Through a Glass Darkly by Kay Thomann

Author:Kay Thomann [Thomann, Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781449752088
Publisher: WestBow Press
Published: 2012-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

A false balance is abomination to the Lord: but a just weight is his delight.

Proverbs 11:1

Chapter Seven

The Protesters

Standing outside their pickups, farmers lined both sides of the street leading to the steel gates of the Montray packing plant. They were young and old, all shapes and sizes, held by a common bond of urgency.

The fall rains had finally come. Cold hard drops pelted their bodies and soaked them to the bone but did not dampen their determination. These were men used to the outdoors.

One of the men shouted, “Well, I was wet before I was dry!”

“I love it, I love it!” Another man opened his raincoat and let the rain hit him full on his face and chest. Some of the tension broke. Laughter followed.

Police flanked both sides of the gates. News reporters smiled their warmest smiles from under their umbrellas and tried to get someone, anyone, to speak in front of their cameras. The farmers declined, having learned that the warm smiles and sympathetic questions could easily be twisted into innuendo that could, and more than likely would, be used against them. There was bantering among the men, designed to reinforce their bravado at a party that no one wanted to attend.

“Hey, Billy,” someone shouted, “where’d yuh git the new bibs?”

“Eeeoow! Them things are so new they hurt my eyes.”

“Yeah, you farmers, all you do is bellyache, and then you come out with fancy new duds.”

Billy strutted down the sidewalk. “Boys, in just six, easy, low-cost government payments, me and my wife will be sole owners of these pants. The bank is holding the mortgage on my farm till then.”

“You better stand out of the rain then. Them things are bound to shrink the first time you wear ’em, and you’ll be paying interest on shrinkage.”

“Yeah, besides that, I’d hate to see what he’d look like in skin tights. He’s ugly enough already.”

No one was certain how the next hour would go. Picket lines formed. Signs came out. Opinions were voiced and the crowd began to heat up.

A stock truck loaded with squealing hogs rolled up the drive. Several men stepped out to block its progress and waved to the driver to pull over. The driver ignored the command and continued a slow deliberate roll while the crowd held its breath. Two farmers stood their ground until the screeching pop of the air brakes jerked the semi to a dead stop within an inch of running them over. A policeman strode over to keep close watch.

“How many hogs you got on there?” one of the men asked, holding out his tally sheet.

“Who wants to know?” The driver was a stocky man. It appeared his attitude could go either way.

“Look mister, we don’t have any grudge against you truckers.”

The other one, a young, red-faced man stepped up. “All we want to know is how many hogs are going into this plant. We ain’t aimin’ to stop you. All we need are the numbers.”

The driver stuck his head out and motioned the two to come closer.

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