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Willard planted his cotton. It grew, was picked and taken to the gin - another function of
the Miller, the industrialist of the community. By December the fibers had been carded by
the women and made into a roving. By the end of that month they were busy with the
spinning from whence came thread. From the thread they would then make the cloth by
weaving and thence, by cutting and sewing, the finished wedding dress. In Dentonsville the traditional celebration of New Years Eve consisted of the building of a large bonfire in the Mission Square where the people congregated and there was dancing and singing and the surreptitious consumption of weak beer prepared for the occasion in the enclave of the 'Men Apart'. On the night of December 31, 2469 these celebrations were considerably disrupted by the weather. Wet air flowing up from the Gulf rose above freezing air to the north forming a temperature inversion above the town. A freezing mist descended and settled on the trees as ice - a thick glassy coating which slowly bent their boughs until they bowed with drooping heads and looked forlorn. The next morning the world was white. Cold north air pushed the wet air back and the ice stayed on the trees all day. As a result of this not uncommon development in the weather the Shopkeeper had a busier New Year than he had anticipated. Two large trees fell that night - one upon a house - and since he was responsible for the direction of labor he was kept busy with requests from those who needed debris cleared away and with chasing up lazy drunken laborers. It was therefore late in the afternoon when he arrived at the mill to oversee the spinning. He had visited the mill every day for the last few weeks, although he had no need to. The women were conscientious and enjoyed their work. By the time the Shopkeeper arrived they had finished for the day and only the Miller, Jacob Harding was there, inspecting also. 'They've done very well,' said the Miller. 'They're nearly finished with the spinning now and looking forward to going on.' The Miller too had a hard day clearing the ice from his water wheel and sluices. 'Your son was here today. He was a big help. Worked real hard. He's a fine lad you know. Coming on well. Saved me from having to ask for extra labor. Had to promise to show him the operation of the mill when things got better, though. Fair enough exchange, I'd say.' The Shopkeeper's eyes strayed to the tables where the spools of cotton were laid out. He became lost in admiration for their whiteness. 'Pretty, aren't they?' said the Miller. 'Seems things are looking up.' The Shopkeeper was so proud of his cotton that he decided to walk home, not by the quickest way, but via a path which would take him by the field where the cotton was grown, just so he could look at it. A field of picked cotton plants standing in the red earth is a mess. The scrawny, stumpy plants - in winter a mass of black aimless twigs with a few odd drops of white fiber still clinging to them - is hardly pure or virgin. The field was on a low hill. There were no trees visible beyond it. The path to it approached from the northeast and the top of the field formed the horizon with its veneer of dead and useless cotton plants. Normally the field would appear black and dismal but now there was a coating of clear ice on every single twig. As the man approached the field was white and stark. The sun was above and to his right, a hard red winters disc, a flaming ball in the clear air setting into the horizon. He shielded his eyes from the glare and peered at the field. At the precise inclination of the falling star the ice on each twig caught and turned its image. The suns rays were thrown at the man, hurled from a milliard facets, from the junctions of the ice and air; and the world - the field - was pink with blood. That day Becky caught a chill. She was ill for a few days with a bad chest cough but she soon recovered. |
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