HARDSCRABBLE
Some people see a farm and see home. Others see what it’s worth. Ellen may be young. That doesn’t mean she’s helpless.
SHORT FICTION
By J. R. Lindermuth
9/3/2026
“You’ll sell then?”
Aunt Carrie laughed. “I’m not sentimental. You come up with the right offer, and I’ll sell.”
Ellen clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a building sneeze. The dust in the closet where she hid threatened to give her away. She’d ducked into the closet when she heard Aunt Carrie and the gas company man approaching Granny’s bedroom.
“What about your niece?” the man asked. “Won’t the girl have anything to say about it?”
‘I’m her guardian now. What I say goes.”
Ellen clenched her fists as a wave of anger swept over her. She’s acting like my opinion means nothing. Tears burned in her eyes with the realization her opinion was meaningless. She hadn’t seen Granny’s will or Uncle Dave’s. Even if she had and was given rights in either, it would be meaningless until she turned eighteen. And that was still months away. Aunt Carrie had been appointed Ellen’s legal guardian till she was of age.
“How long until probate’s settled?” the gas man asked.
“Can’t be soon enough for me,” Carrie said. “I’m prodding that hick lawyer. Soon as I sign the papers I’ll be calling you.”
Ellen listened until their footsteps receded down the hall before leaving her hiding place. I’ve got to stop her. But how? She opened the window, climbed out, and strode across the yard to the barn.
In the loft of the barn, redolent with the good scent of warm hay and animals, Ellen had a good cry. She’d lived all her life on this farm which had been in the family for more than a century. It wasn’t much as farms went—60 arable acres squeezed between wooded hills and a high pasture. But it was home. The big garden and the sheep Granny ran had provided for their needs as long as she could remember. Granny said her father and other men of the family had timbered a bit on those hills. “Those oaks, maples and other hardwoods is like money in the bank, if we ever need ‘em,” Granny told her more than once.
Ellen had been just a child when her parents were killed in an auto accident. Granny raised her. They’d been happy on the farm. “Between the garden, my sheep and maybe a hog or two, we have all we need right here, girl,” Granny always said. “Let other people lust after money for things that won’t bring you more happiness than we already got.”
Uncle Dave and Aunt Carrie came last year when Granny got sick. Uncle Dave wasn’t a farm-boy. He couldn’t wait to get back to the city. But he’d promised the farm would go to Ellen after Granny passed. Now he was gone, too, and Aunt Carrie planned on selling.
Ellen sighed. How can I stop them?
The gas drilling company had been after the property for years. Granny told them she’d never sell the place. “I don’t need your money and you ain’t gonna poison my water like you done down in the valley,” Granny told the gas-leeches when they came around.
What am I to do? Ellen asked herself. Then she thought about Kevin, the farm agent who lived on the next property. He also was a hold-out and opposed fracking. “I’ll never sell either,” he’d told Ellen. “They drive all those poisonous chemicals down in the earth to force up the natural gas. They tell farmers how rich they’re gonna be. They don’t tell them how the methane and toxic chemicals contaminate the water.”
That scared Ellen. “But, if they poison our water…”
Kevin had laughed at her naivete. “The valley water comes from up here. It don’t flow uphill to us. We’re the source and, as long as we keep it clean, we have nothing to worry about.”
Though nearly twice her age, Kevin was a handsome man and Ellen thought she might be in love with him. He must love me, too. He’d been telling people since she was a little girl he planned on marrying her someday. He’d actually proposed last night. Ellen had been shocked speechless. Kevin said he didn’t want her answer right away, she should think about it a day or two. Said he didn’t want to rush her into anything.
Maybe that’s what I should do.
Ellen rose and brushed straw from her skirt. Aunt Carrie will be wondering where I am.
Coming out of the barn, Ellen got a surprise. Kevin’s truck sat in front of the house. What’s he doing here now? Normally this time of the day he’d be out making calls on other farmers, offering advice on the latest technology and scientific methods of improving their crops and land.
Ellen skirted around to the kitchen entrance. As she passed under the window, his voice drifted out to her. He was talking to Aunt Carrie. “I got her convinced to marry me,” he said.
Aunt Carrie laughed. “What do you wanna do a fool thing like that, for? There ain’t no need.”
“But she’s in the old lady’s will. The property will go to her.”
“Not till she’s of age,” Carrie told him. “Meantime I’m her guardian. I can sell and say I’m doing it in her best interest.”
“What about our deal?” Kevin said, his voice taking on an edge.
“Don’t worry. You’ll still get your split—just like we agreed. You still want to marry the little bitch, be my guest. Means nothin’ to me.”
“This isn’t what we agreed, Carrie. We were supposed to sell both properties together.”
“Look, I’m makin’ it better for you. I just want to get out of here. I’ve had enough of this hardscrabble life. Sure, I wouldn’t mind having a bit more money like we’d get by pooling our land. But I’ve had enough of country life. This way you get a piece of my profit, all of it from your land and the girl thrown in as a bonus. What you got to complain about?”
“That’s all well and good. If we hold off, I’m sure I can find a buyer for the timber, too.”
“I don’t wanna wait that long. Maybe you can figger a way to sell the timber before the gas company starts drillin’. You could always send me a cut if you like.”
“You want me to do the risky part again. Just like I did dropping that tree on your husband. I’m not sure I trust you anymore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’m gonna tell somebody I made a money deal with you to kill my loser husband?”
Ellen couldn’t believe what she heard. They were in it together. Kevin had murdered her uncle? Bile rose in her throat, and she feared she might throw up. Ellen squeezed shut her eyes and ran back to the barn.
****
“Can I make you a nice cup of tea, Aunt Carrie?”
“Why that’s so sweet of you, honey. I’m the one supposed to be taking care on you.”
Ellen had the pot already heating on the stove. Right. She takes care of me. Carrie had been content from the start to let Ellen do all the cooking, cleaning, and other household chores. Ellen had done it without complaint before. Now she knew better.
But she smiled as she brewed the tea. Granny knew all about herbs and wild plants, which were good for cures, and which could cause harm. She’d taught it all to Ellen. And now the cup of tea she carried in to her aunt would cure one of Ellen’s problems.
The other would wait a little longer. She wasn’t quite ready to be a widow. After all, she and Kevin had only been married that afternoon by the justice of the peace. A honeymoon might be nice before having to suffer another loss.
Aunt Carrie laid her cigarette in the ashtray and gave Ellen a lovely smile as she accepted the cup from her niece.
END
Bio: A retired newspaper editor, J. R. Lindermuth has published about 20 novels and numerous short stories in such magazines as Mystery Magazine, Crime & Suspense, Mysterical E, Mouth Full of Bullets, and others.
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