"Good!" he grunted. "This 'un's got you locked down, ain't she?" I instinctively hemmed and hawed, and Oscar laughed - something unprecedented; it too... real humor, usually gallows humor, to get Oscar out of the grumps. Vickie must have drained him, good! "Go ahead!" he grunted, "Lie about it! If ya can, ya poor bastard!" I conceded defeat, and Oscar grunted "'Bout time! See ya at seven thirty!" and hung up. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed that Vickie's car was no longer in Oscar's. Almost at once, the door opened a crack and one of the black girls tip-toed in wearing just her shift."You want com'ny?" she asked."Not tonight," I told her. "Plum wore out." Shit," she said and left, closing the thin door firmly.On my third day as a farm hand, making vittles for Washington's army with the sweat of my brow, some Redcoats with a commissary wagon appeared. I paused out in the field, squinted and hoped I had properly stashed my musket in the loft. I went back to haying, hoping. More

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