W.R. HAMMONS .COM. THE MAN. THE LEGEND. THE WEBSITE.
“Morning, Jim,” Ann and Deborah cried out in sisterly union to the farmhand who blocked one of June’s early sunrises streaming through the porch windows upon his return to the Darcy household after an overnight journey to the city.
“Mornin’ ladies, Mister Bayer.”
Wally looked up from the egg yolk he had just broken with the jagged edge of a slice of bacon. “Morning, Jim. I’ll say it again, just ‘cause I own the farm now doesn’t mean you have to call me ‘Mister.’”
“Anything you say, Wally.” Jim smiled as he approached the table covered with plates of food and with three settings for Wally and his two sisters-in-law. He placed a cash-filled envelope in his employer’s hand and a copy of the New York World next to the same man’s place setting. “I got the Sunday edition just as I started back here.”
“Thanks.” Wally couldn’t keep himself from smiling with the pleasure of anticipation as he reached inside the newspaper for the Sunday magazine supplement that held the weekly crossword puzzle. “Get in the kitchen and get you a plate and silverware.” He re-closed the newspaper and returned his attention to his breakfast, separating a bite of gravy-smothered biscuit with the edge of his fork and raising it to his mouth.
“Already there,” Sally announced as she entered the dining room from the kitchen and handed Jim his breakfast utensils. “Glad you got back so early.”
Jim started for the chair next to Deborah’s. “So am I. The city’s just not right from some men, and I was eager as a beaver to get back on the road. ‘Sides, there’s more than enough farm work to do.”
Wally’s eyes caught a penciled scribbling above the headlines on the front page of the newspaper: Mission not accomplished. Too risky to try again. He looked up and across at Jim as his fork motioned to the paper. “What’s this all about?”