The Four Winds

Loreda looked at her mother over the row of cotton that stood between them.

The structure in the middle of the field was nearly complete. It was easy now to see what they’d been building all morning: a gun tower. Soon one of the foremen would be up there, pacing, carrying a rifle, making sure the workers knew their place.

You see? Loreda mouthed.

* * *

ELSA LAY AWAKE, DEEP into the night, worrying about the ten percent cut in wages.

Across the small, dark room, she heard the other rusted metal bedframe squeak.

Elsa saw the shadow of her daughter in the moonlight through the

open vent. Loreda quietly got out of bed.

Elsa sat up, watched her daughter move furtively; she dressed and went to the cabin door, reached for the knob.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Elsa said.

Loreda paused, turned. “There’s a strike meeting tonight. In camp.”

“Loreda, no—”

“You’ll have to tie me up and gag me, Mom. Otherwise, I’m going.”

Elsa couldn’t see her daughter’s face clearly, but she heard the steel in her voice. As scared as Elsa was, she couldn’t help feeling a flash of reluctant pride. Her daughter was so much stronger and braver than Elsa was. Grandpa Wolcott would have been proud of Loreda, too. “Then I’m going with you.”

Elsa slipped into a day dress and covered her hair with a kerchief. Too lazy to lace up her shoes, she stepped into her galoshes and followed her daughter out of the cabin.

Outside, moonlight set the distant cotton fields aglow, turned the white cotton bolls silver.

The quiet of man was complete, unbroken, but they heard the scuttling of creatures moving in the dark. The howl of a coyote. She saw an owl, perched in a high branch, watching them.

Elsa imagined spies and foremen everywhere, hidden in every shadow, watching for those who would dare to raise their voices in protest. This was a stupid idea. Stupid and dangerous.

“Mom—”

“Hush,” Elsa said. “Not a word.”

They passed the newer section of tents and turned into the laundry—a long, wooden structure that held metal washbasins, long tables, and a few hand-cranked wringers. Men rarely stepped foot in the place, but now there were about forty of them inside, standing in a tight knot.

Elsa and Loreda slipped to the back of the crowd.

Ike stood at the front. “We all know why we’re here,” he said quietly.

There was no answer, not even a movement of feet.

“They cut wages again today, and they’ll do it again. Because they can. We’ve all seen the desperate folks pouring into the valley. They’ll work for anything. They have kids to feed.”

“So do we, Ike,” someone said.

“I know, Ralph. But we gotta stand up for ourselves or they’ll destroy us.”

“I ain’t no Red,” someone said.

“Call it whatever you want, Gary. We deserve fair wages,” Ike said. “And we aren’t going to get ’em without a fight.”

Elsa heard the distant sound of truck engines.