My Trough Runneth Over

Submitted for C.D. Campbell. Blame him.

            

            My Trough Runneth Over

                          about 1100 wds.

          Kincaid spat and watched the spittle raise a tiny cloud in the road dust; perfect weather, absolutely perfect.  A spindly oak with crisp leaves gave a little shade for Kincaid and the mule. There was enough water left in the barrel to clean himself up and the mule could drink the dirty water he left in the basin.  It was important to be somewhat clean.  Travel dust was acceptable, even expected, but the general impression must be presentable, and the mule had to make the last leg of the trip.

 

             Kincaid set to work at the signs on the wagon sides.  Heavy flat head screws held the painted boards flush against the wagon.  The top three boards that began just under the curved roof line he left alone, so his advertisement began: Professor Henry Canaan, Boston, Rome, Berlin and Cairo, followed by a painted illustration of the Seminole, Osceola, complete with feathered turban and looking remarkably like the George Catlin rendering.   He removed the boards touting the near magical qualities of Professor Canaan’s Indian Elixir and reversed them until the sign revealed that Professor Canaan of Boston and points east was the acknowledged master both the Ancient Occult and Modern Scientific Methods of Metrological Manipulation.  The last board, perhaps for the benefit of the unwashed, was in plainer script and said simply: Rainmaker.

 

            After he washed and shaved he brushed his suit and hat.  He took a starched, folded white shirt and a fresh collar from the trunk in the wagon and laid them on the wagon seat.  When he finished dressing and the mule had drunk the last of the bath water he backed the mule into the traces and mounted the wagon for the ride down into the dry valley.  

                                      *

 

            The water trough in front of the Grange Hall was inhospitably dry.  “You want some mule water Mister?”  A freckled boy looked up at Kincaid.  “I can fetch a bucket for two bits.”

            “A lot of money for water son, you can get a bucket of beer for that in San Francisco.”

             “ Yessir, and it probably rains some in big cities like San Francisco.  But we’re mighty dry here.”

             Kincaid fished a coin out of his watch pocket.  “Give him all he’ll take, and don’t worry, you can’t founder a mule.”

             “I know about mules all right, you cain’t tell me nothin’ about a mule I don’t already know.”

             “Water him and hang around.  When I finish my business at the Grange I’ll tell you something you don’t already know, something worth a lot more than a quarter.”

 

                                *

            “So Chairman Evers, we have an agreement?”  Kincaid had taken notes of the conversation in his ornate Spenserian penmanship, and now turned the paper to Oliver Evers the Chairman of Locust County Grange.”

             “You get the hall for your show but, I take the tickets, and count the house.  We split the take at the end of the show.  Put that in there.”  Evers didn’t touch the pen or the paper just leaned back and stretched his suspenders away from his belly.

             “Fair enough Chairman, fair enough.  With your permission I will use “funds” in lieu of “take” and refer to the gathering as a Chautauqua rather than a show.  Just sign there on behalf of the Grange and please use your full title not just your name.  Press hard please; there is a carbon copy beneath.”

 

                      *

 

             “So Edward the prospect of ready cash, easy money holds some attraction for you?  Focuses your attention? “

             The boy looked up at Professor Canaan as if he had just heard Greek for the first time.  “My name’s Eddie not Edward. You gonna pay me a quarter for ten minutes work, about two dozen times a day.  Is that what you said? “

             “In a nutshell that’s the arrangement, er deal Eddie.  You want the job or not? “

             “Sure I want it.  What do I do? “

             “I’ll teach you twenty or so magic words that begin: ‘Hello sir, or Madam my name is Eddie and I am employed by Professor Canaan.’ Think you can remember twenty or thirty words in a row Eddie?  Of course you can, any lad that knows all there is to know about mules can remember a few words.”

            “So I gotta sell something?”

            “Eddie you just say the words, do ten minutes of very easy work and hold out your hand, then easy peasey, lemon squeezey, money will fall into it.  Half of which is yours to keep.”

            “And the work Mister?

            “Professor, Eddie, always call a man by his title, that’s just good business.  But the work is simple.  I’ll show you.  See these little clamps?  Hold one in each hand. That’s right, but holds them loosely because you’ll want to put them down in just a second.  Now this device is my patented lightning rod charger, when you crank it a polarizing charge flows up the ground wire into the rod.  I’ll crank it slightly now.”

            Eddie jumped straight into the air and flung the clamps to the ground.  “Jesus wept and s**t, you b*****d, what was that?”

            “That Eddie was the beginning of your fortune.  Now I’ll begin teaching you your lines.”

                            *

            The Chautauqua was a sell out and a raging success, by the end of his presentation the audience was demanding the Grange to contract with Professor Canaan to relieve the county of the “loathsome and pestilential drought” just as he had done for Cairo, Delhi, and lower Mesopotamia.  Half the house came to $128 and Eddie’s efforts brought in an initial $28.  That figure rose to $38 after the Professor intimated that the patented rod charger, which was in fact only a magneto scavenged from a hand cranked telephone, had a built in counter which only a Professor could read. Eddie handed over the $10 with a few muttered excuses. He wanted to keep his lucrative job right up to the minute the Professor “wrought forth the thunder and lightning.”

            “Not to worry Eddie, as soon as I receive my down payment from the Grange I will begin to fill every well, cistern, horse trough, lake, pond and pothole in the county with life sustaining and restoring cool clear water.  As part of your duties you make sure my mule and wagon are ready to go at a moment’s notice.  When all that rain hits I want to be far away and on high ground.  But, I don’t have to tell a smart boy like you about mules and high ground, do I?”

 

 

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

Author's Note

A quick write for fun. Not much proofing or rewrite. A suggestion by C.D. Campbell.

Reviews

[Vera Anne Wolf]

I think the opening sentence sets the tone of the story wonderfully. The personality of your character also shines through clearly in this 3rd person narrative.

Its confusing to me that he starts to wash in the first paragraph ( I think ) stops to set up his wagon, then continues to wash. Almost like the 2nd paragraph was added in later. That being said, the 2nd paragraph really does a lot of plot set up. I think the best term for your character is "charlatan".

Misplaced (") at the end of "Oliver Evers the Chairman of Locust County Grange."

Not sure what part numerically, but when your charlatan is talking to Eddie again the quotations at the end of the dialogue start acting funny. Think the spacing is throwing them off. Small stuff.

In lieu of the knowledge that one of his signs read "Rainmaker", this town is "parched for water" and now he's messing with some device that simulates lightning (I think-details as to what made Eddie jump were a bit absent), I was certain he was there to con them out of their money by pretending to make it rain. No surprise really given the opening of this story.

I am surprised that just the display of lightning would convince these people that rain would follow. Especially if the sky is missing a familiar weather indicator called "cloud formation" but I enjoyed "shamelessly" the way his character never changed. To the very end, he lied to them all, even the boy he employed to work for him. Clever. Wicked. An honest portrayal of humankind.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for reading. C.D. Campbell had asked (challenged) me to write something about a horse trough. This and a poem you reviewed were the result. You are right in all respects about this piece. I rushed to get it done in one evening and didn't proof it. Had I the time there would have been no asterisks indicating time lapses and unwritten text. It probably would not have been much longer though. My attention span fades at anything over about 2000 words.

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Delmar,

Not sure if you know who old Cowboy was--only because we have not conversed but a short time on different topics but, your writing style and small community rural setting, that is if I comprehended correctly, of this bit of Flash Fiction well written--reminds me of the late Elmer Kelton, who possessed a style of western writing like no other, even the great Louis L'Amour, and lived and died just south of my home of Smalltown in the San Angelo, Texas area ... If you don't know of him, he is well worth the reading, a master craftsman of the quill in penning some of the finest western novels ever written, though my personal favorite is a novel set in the mid 50's, a time of a seven year drought, called, The Time It Never Rained ... a Marvelous book that immediately came back to mind in reading this excellent little tale of yours ... Very poetic in narrative descriptiveness, even if not intended so, but which helps paint a panoramic image within the minds of your readers ... Perhaps, you should consider more story writing along this line, a continuation maybe ...

[Delmar Cooper]

I've probably read something by Kelton. I certainly recognize the name. The seed of this story I stole from the "Old Farmer's Almanac." They had a story about a bogus rainmaker who charged for rain and when, luckily, it actually fell he charged to make it stop. This is not a very good story although I thought it was a dandy answer to the prompt. My favorite of the very shot stories I have posted is "American Money" also set in the west, way north of Texas, but still west. Try that one.

[Lyn Anderson]

Pretty imaginative from horse trough prompt. Nice character development. The piece has been thoroughly dissected, and I see, edited with the asterisks... over all an interesting piece

[Delmar Cooper]

Your visit is much appreciated.

[AlphaGemini]

Really enjoyed that just the tone and language used in the dialogue was used to place the setting as much, if not more that the actual descriptive parts. Gotta love that western twang, especially with the young assistant, I could really hear their accent and it painted the picture all the better.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for reading and your comment. This story was an exercise and response to a prompt a pal of mine offered me here in WC. The most consistent criticism I receive about my stories is that I give little description. The most consistent criticism I make of the stories of others is too much description and too many adjectives and adverbs. This will tell you a lot about what kind of writer I am.

[AlphaGemini]

If you can paint a picture using only what your characters are saying, i feel like you are doing better than alright. Everyone has their own style of telling or showing

[Papaya]

I loved this story. Has the feel of a classic Steinbeck, the style of writing and the story itself is so cleverly done. Immature Papaya giggled at Eddie's cussing of course. And as I am writing it occurs to me how gifted you are at developing characters and dialogue. I can see this turning into a series of adventures along his travels.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for reading and your more than generous comment. Yeah, I like Steinbeck too.

[Papaya]

You're welcome, it was a pleasure. :)

[Chris]

Brought back old times... good shows, better scripts.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for reading , even though you do make me feel a bit like "The Old Ranger." If you remember him.

[Chris]

Wait a sec... wasn't he that young boy neighbor we had when we were moving toward San Antonio back in '68? No wait a min - that was Tonto...

[Great Aunt Astri]

OOOOOh this made me laugh! American initiative (and consmanship lives on!) but this story had a real bite in it , or should I say electric bolt. I am not familiar the references, and I presume you refer to the rainmaking ceremonies of the Indigenous Indians? And wow, wasn't that magneto powerful! I am not surprised Kincaid wanted to do a runner after he broke the weather system! I don't understand the meaning in the last line. But I expect Eddie did. I think you must be a perfectionist in your writing as i could only find one error ....holds should be hold (I think) Lovely story to read last thing at night ...although I might have electric dreams of my house getting flooded!

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for reading, it was fun to write and although it's a little abbreviated I think the character of the Prof. at least comes through.

[CD Campbell]

I'm not used to reviewing short stories. I did find that this one was well written and entertaining. I didn't have to click on the go back button on my browser after reading the first paragraph. Which for my short attention span is a thumbs up. I want a mule now. You have schooled me good sir. CD

[Samuel Dickens]

I enjoyed the old style of writing you employed and the skillful story-telling. Now I must read up on mules.