Corps a kickback, once they take over here. Gang labor’s cheap and permanent. They’re using it in the Willamette Valley. The Association owns a lot of land it got back on water-foreclosure. You got to buy everything from the boss when you work on a gang, and pretty soon, they own you.”
Amy had signed them on. He had been ten, and Amy had been desperate, scared by how close they’d come to dying as they hitched north from California. He remembered that — how she was always scared.
“Profit.” Dan looked out at the dead falls. “They’ve got the water. They can farm the dirt cheap.”
“You worked on a gang,” Jesse said.
“Right here. The Association provided contract grunt labor for the Pipe. When I was a kid.” The silver glitter of the Pipe down in the dusty bed hurt his eyes.
What’s going to happen to you? Amy had cried, when she had started getting sick and couldn’t work her shift anymore. I told Mom I’d take care of you.
“You’re not going to beat the Association,” he said.
“I’m not planning to try.” Jesse turned her back on him.
*
Jesse was in the field, cleaning silt out of the feeder tubing, when Montoya drove up next afternoon. Dan sat on the porch, shelling dry beans for market and counting the crop rows, figuring yields. The dry pods crackled between his palms. Jesse didn’t have enough land under hoses to get by. Good thing that she had a trucker daughter to bring in scrip. The necklace was back hanging on the picture. It would be worth a lot in, say, Portland. If he wanted to do that again. Steal. He tossed a handful of pale, pebble-hard beans into the pan. He needed to get out of here. Now. Too many ghosts.
Dan nodded to Montoya as he climbed out of the truck. Maybe he could talk Montoya into giving him a ride into town. He could get a hitch there.
“Lo, Sam.” Jesse came around the corner, wiping sweat and dust from her face.
“Sara Dorner came over this morning,” Montoya said, without preamble. “A couple of Association people came out to make an offer on their land. They offered Matt and Sara a job, too.”
“Let me guess.” Jesse tossed her tube-brush onto the porch. “Matt shot ’em.”
“Nope.” Montoya sighed. “But I guess he did cut up rough, threw a few punches. They took off before he could get around to using the rifle. Sara’s pretty upset, afraid they’ll be back to arrest him.”
“Matt’s a short-tempered fool.” Hands on her hips, Jesse glared at Montoya. “I bet Maria’s real happy about you being in the middle of all this.”
“They’ll get around to us pretty soon, so I guess we’d better talk to the Association folks. Jesse?” Montoya spread his hands. “They got to see we’re all together on this. Otherwise they’re gonna pick us off one at a time.”
Jesse glared at him, gave Dan a quick, hostile look. “All right.” Her shoulders sagged suddenly. “I’ll come be a warm body for you, Sam, but it’s not going to work.”
“It will if we make it work. You got to believe that.” Montoya touched her arm. “That’s all we got.”
Jesse shook her head without answering.
“How about you?” Montoya turned to Dan. “Like Jesse says, we could use warm bodies. After market, I’ll give you a ride west as far as Chenowen.”
As if he’d been reading Dan’s mind. “All right,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Dan met the man’s dark eyes. “You know, if you make this work, if you bring everybody together . . .” He paused. “They’ll just shoot you.”
Montoya said nothing and his eyes didn’t waver.
“I’ll get my stick.” Dan turned away.
*
The Dorner place was way south, at the fringe of the irrigated land. A trailer house sat crookedly on the concrete blocks, surrounded by fields of genetically engineered sugar beets, destined for the ethanol stills. The dark green beet tops drooped in the heat, revealing the black-and-gray network of soaker hose and feeder lines between the neat
Amy had signed them on. He had been ten, and Amy had been desperate, scared by how close they’d come to dying as they hitched north from California. He remembered that — how she was always scared.
“Profit.” Dan looked out at the dead falls. “They’ve got the water. They can farm the dirt cheap.”
“You worked on a gang,” Jesse said.
“Right here. The Association provided contract grunt labor for the Pipe. When I was a kid.” The silver glitter of the Pipe down in the dusty bed hurt his eyes.
What’s going to happen to you? Amy had cried, when she had started getting sick and couldn’t work her shift anymore. I told Mom I’d take care of you.
“You’re not going to beat the Association,” he said.
“I’m not planning to try.” Jesse turned her back on him.
*
Jesse was in the field, cleaning silt out of the feeder tubing, when Montoya drove up next afternoon. Dan sat on the porch, shelling dry beans for market and counting the crop rows, figuring yields. The dry pods crackled between his palms. Jesse didn’t have enough land under hoses to get by. Good thing that she had a trucker daughter to bring in scrip. The necklace was back hanging on the picture. It would be worth a lot in, say, Portland. If he wanted to do that again. Steal. He tossed a handful of pale, pebble-hard beans into the pan. He needed to get out of here. Now. Too many ghosts.
Dan nodded to Montoya as he climbed out of the truck. Maybe he could talk Montoya into giving him a ride into town. He could get a hitch there.
“Lo, Sam.” Jesse came around the corner, wiping sweat and dust from her face.
“Sara Dorner came over this morning,” Montoya said, without preamble. “A couple of Association people came out to make an offer on their land. They offered Matt and Sara a job, too.”
“Let me guess.” Jesse tossed her tube-brush onto the porch. “Matt shot ’em.”
“Nope.” Montoya sighed. “But I guess he did cut up rough, threw a few punches. They took off before he could get around to using the rifle. Sara’s pretty upset, afraid they’ll be back to arrest him.”
“Matt’s a short-tempered fool.” Hands on her hips, Jesse glared at Montoya. “I bet Maria’s real happy about you being in the middle of all this.”
“They’ll get around to us pretty soon, so I guess we’d better talk to the Association folks. Jesse?” Montoya spread his hands. “They got to see we’re all together on this. Otherwise they’re gonna pick us off one at a time.”
Jesse glared at him, gave Dan a quick, hostile look. “All right.” Her shoulders sagged suddenly. “I’ll come be a warm body for you, Sam, but it’s not going to work.”
“It will if we make it work. You got to believe that.” Montoya touched her arm. “That’s all we got.”
Jesse shook her head without answering.
“How about you?” Montoya turned to Dan. “Like Jesse says, we could use warm bodies. After market, I’ll give you a ride west as far as Chenowen.”
As if he’d been reading Dan’s mind. “All right,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Dan met the man’s dark eyes. “You know, if you make this work, if you bring everybody together . . .” He paused. “They’ll just shoot you.”
Montoya said nothing and his eyes didn’t waver.
“I’ll get my stick.” Dan turned away.
*
The Dorner place was way south, at the fringe of the irrigated land. A trailer house sat crookedly on the concrete blocks, surrounded by fields of genetically engineered sugar beets, destined for the ethanol stills. The dark green beet tops drooped in the heat, revealing the black-and-gray network of soaker hose and feeder lines between the neat
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