Day One by Bill Cameron

before.
    The horse snorted behind her and she turned. “Thank you, Jack.” She patted the animal’s long, wet neck. “Go ahead and drink. You did good.” She kicked her dress into the bushes. Jack led her along the stream, dipping his head and gently nuzzling the water. She entered downstream from the horse. She didn’t want to muddy water he was so careful not to muddy himself. She moved with care across rocks slimy on the bottoms of her feet. In the blistering heat, the cold water offered the only indication winter would soon be upon her. Last season’s finisher hogs had been sold. Only the gilts, sows, and boars remained in her father’s barn. Work around the farm would slow down. Stuart would have more energy.
    He’ll want to fuck all the time now. She gazed down at her body, at the round smoothness of her stomach, at her heavy breasts, at the tangle of pubic hair below her navel. “You got more hair down there than a gorilla.” Stuart had offered this keen observation a week before the wedding. He’d demanded an inspection, insisted they try things out, “just so we know the plumbing works for the big night.” Romantic. She didn’t think she’d ever forget her first glimpse of his long, thin penis. Twisting, purple veins stretched along its length like a disease, a violent worm. She had seen other penises, her brothers’ penises. They had seemed smooth and healthy in contrast, not so cruel and thin. Of course, she’d seen her brothers’ under the most harmless circumstances: down at Little Liver Creek swimming, in the bath at night. Stuart’s penis strained tall while she and he lay on a blanket under the moon outside her house, and it wanted inside her. All it wanted was inside.
    “I don’t think we should, Stuart.”
    “What do you mean? Come on.” He moaned and slid up closer to her, stroked her hair, ran a hand over her breasts. She caught it, pinned it to her side.
    “Wait till we’re married.” She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at the house.
    “It’s just a stupid ceremony. This is the real stuff. Come on.”
    The penis gleamed in the moonlight, almost seemed to stare at her. She wanted to turn her head away. “I can’t. Not yet.”
    “You like Luellen better than me.” He sat up. “You’re not a lezzie, are you?”
    His eyes lost their gleam, and she moved away from him. “I have to go.” She tried to climb to her feet, but he reached out and grabbed her.
    “Wait. I’m sorry.” He gripped her hand, but she twisted away from him and ran into the house. Later that night she made her way to Luellen’s and told her about her decision not to marry Stuart after all. Luellen was supportive, but the next morning at breakfast Ellie’s mother had little sympathy.
    “You shouldn’t have led him on.”
    “I didn’t lead him anywhere. Stuart finds his own way.”
    Her father chuckled from behind his cup of coffee, but her mother frowned at him.
    “Immanuel, you’re too indulgent of this girl.”
    “Hiram thinks I’m more likely to sell if we’re in-laws. Maybe just as well if—”
    “Don’t interfere.” She turned her frown on Ellie. “What were you doing out late at night when you’re not even married then?”
    Ellie had no response. She sat with her hands in her lap, quiet and brooding, glancing only at her father in time to catch his tightlipped submission before he pushed away from the table and left. Her mother ignored her, accustomed to her silences. Finally Ellie spoke up. “I’m not going to let you force me into this.” She stalked off, secure in her decision.
    It didn’t last. Over the next few days the whispers started: strange goings-on between Ellie and that friend of hers, Jewellen. Elliwalked into the church kitchen during Wednesday soup supper just in time to hear the pastor’s wife tell her mother, “It must be so hard having a child so willful. No one blames you, of course.” The words knocked the air out of her, and in that moment she