The Crows Come

  I

                                                                                         A Proper Burial
 
                Ezekiel Johnson was like any other farmer in Willowcreek. In one word, he was struggling. It was the middle of summer, when his crops were always at their best, when his cattle was strong and healthy, when his mares were fondling their foals. It was the middle of summer, but this summer wasn’t like the rest. This summer was not prosperous.
                The sun glinted off of his bald head as he stood on his front porch. A plump woman stood beside him, her golden hair fell in a braid down the middle of her back. “I don’t know what we’ll do if things don’t change soon, Mara.” Ezekiel cast his eyes on the withered yellow corn stalks. His cash crop was not producing.
                “We’ll get on the food stamps.”
                “No, we won’t.” Ezekiel glared at her. Why would she even suggest such a thing? In all his life, he had not accepted a penny of charity. He’d given freely, but he’d rather starve than take from someone else. “Old Susan is sick,” Ezekiel pointed to the cow, she was thin, and her legs were shaking. Scabs ran down her bulging spine. Her eyes were glassy, Ezekiel knew she didn’t have long.
                “You should put her down. She doesn’t need to suffer.”
                Susan’s eyes looked piteous.
                Ezekiel’s eyes became as glassy as Susan’s. A lump welled up in his throat, and he turned from Mara and went to the bed room. He loaded a single shell into his .10 gauge. A hand was on his shoulder, Mara smiled weakly. That cow meant a lot to Ezekiel, he inherited her from his father. The man had passed from lung cancer. The old man had mortgaged the house to pay for the treatment. Days before he died, he burned it down just to spite the bank. Susan was all he had to leave behind.
                He hid the gun behind his back and threw some hay into the cows pen. She walked to the fence and nuzzled his hand.  Ezekiel pushed her away. Susan let out a low, sad bellow. She saw the guilt, the anger, the fear in Ezekiel’s eyes. “Sorry girl, but the Lord is coming for you.”
                Ezekiel stepped back and put the stock against his shoulders. As he pulled, Susan let out one last bellow, but the crack of the shotgun cut her final cry short. Her body jerked, and then her legs crumpled beneath her. He turned his face from Mara, the warm sun, the warm tears, they only reminded him that nothing good ever lasts.
                He pulled his truck up at the gate. “Mara, call Samuel, tell him to bring the boys.” Ezekiel called out. By the time all four of them showed up on the old blue tractor, the sun would be low in the sky. Ezekiel slid the shotgun between the console and the driver’s seat. He dug in the glove box for an old box of cigars and his lighter.
 
                He heard the tractor coming, puttering and popping on its way up the hill. The dirty black smoke filtered through the grove. Samuel rode on the tractor, his kids, Simon, Solemn, and George walked behind, kicking up the dry red dust. Ezekiel waved to them, Solemn looked up and grinned. His youngest grandson knew to expect a treat. Ezekiel reached into his glove box, all he found was old unpaid bills.
                The tractor idled beside the truck, Samuel stepped down. “How are you, Dad?” Samuel had dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark look. Mara had told him the news, at least he wouldn’t have to. Ezekiel couldn’t hide his grim expression as he looked at his son. Sometimes all he could see was the affair.
                He knew Mara had been unfaithful, but he turned a blind eye. After all, he wanted a son, and they’d tried for years without success. At least now he had someone to carry his name. “Not too well, son. Not too well at all.” Then his eyes passed over Solemn, normally the very face of joy. The boy looked jaded.
                Ezekiel felt the cool, smooth lighter in his pocket. “Solemn, do you know better than to play with fire?” Ezekiel asked him, crouching down in front of his protégé, he let out a soft sigh as the pain shot through his knee. Solemn nodded.
                “Yes sir.”
                Ezekiel palmed the lighter and reached out his hand, Solemn shook it, his eyes lit up when he felt the lighter in his hand. “Thank you sir!” Solemn beamed and looked up at Samuel who patted his shoulder.
                “George, Simon, how about some folding money?” Ezekiel reached into his wallet and passed each of them a worn dollar bill. They smiled and thanked him, but they weren’t as young as Solemn. To Solemn, the world was still new, and every little gift felt like a treasury.
                “Well, I know you didn’t call us over for Christmas in August, Dad. Let’s get this over with.”
                Ezekiel nodded somberly.
                They rolled Susan into the bucket of the tractor and raised her carcass up, then rolled it out into the bed of the truck. The corpse was only just beginning to stink. “You boys each grab a shovel from the shed, and bring one for me and Samuel.”
                “Can’t we just dig it with the bucket?” Simon asked.
                “That wouldn’t be proper.”
 
                They drove out past the fields, past the grove, past all of it. They drove up the mountain and into the woods. Darkness settled over them, nestled them in It’s cool comfort. It wiped the sweat from their brow as they dug, dug, dug.
                They lowered her into the hole. Into the darkest patch in the woods. And Ezekiel took off his hat and bowed his heads, and his children followed suit. “Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name.  Thy kingdom come.  Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us.  And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. For thou art the Power, the Kingdom, and the Glory. Amen.”
                There was a flutter in the darkness. Like the fluttering of a heart in a dying chest. The flutter of a soft breath against grave dirt. And then there was a high, sharp caw. Solemn stepped back into Ezekiel, gripping his denim pants legs. Samuel swore, but Ezekiel did not move.
                “Just a crow.” He said. He took the shovel from the dirt and poured the first scoop. The crow flew away. They all followed suit until the grave was filled. Then they loaded themselves back into the robin’s egg blue Chevrolet and wound down the bumpy path home. Solemn and Simon were soon lulled to sleep, but George was still awake.
                “Why did we bury Susan like that? Don’t you usually just burn the dead ones?”
                “Susan wasn’t just any old cow, George,” Samuel said, “she was like a dog. She was loyal. She was gentle. Hell, I’d of married her long before I’d ever marry your mother again.” Samuel took every chance he could get to insult his last wife. George faked a laugh.
                “Sam, you want to let the boys stay tonight?” Ezekiel asked. He gazed out past the barn threshold into the dark sky. The first  stars were beginning to show, the last twinges of evening sun had drowned themselves in the depths of the horizon.
                “Okay. They can walk home in the morning.”
                Ezekiel carried Samuel in his arms and laid him in the guest bedroom, Simon followed, shuffling like a revenant. “George, you can sleep on the couch if you want, or you can head home with your pa.” Ezekiel said, he didn’t wait for an answer, instead he headed for his own bedroom. “Good night.”