Campbell Farm and the Migrant Murders

By Margaret McCulloch

When Cody Campbell hires migrant workers for his shipping business, he has no idea how much trouble hes just brought upon himself. Even so, Ricardo Lopez is hard working, as is his crewincluding the beautiful Anita Lopez. Although Cody already has a relationship with his secretary, he quickly drops her for his exotic new employee.

When Ricardo Lopezs brother is murdered, he and Anita return to Mexico for his burial rites. They return a few months later and Anita is pregnant with Codys child. Their happy reunion is interrupted when she and Ricardo are arrested for bank robbery. All is not as it seems as the trial commences.

Everyone is a suspect as the bodies pile upeven Cody, who struggles to care for his newborn son with Anita in prison. Are the migrant workers behind all the crime in Codys small town, or is someone more nefarious at the reigns? Hopefully, the case will be closed before they all end up dead.

Thanks to my family and friends who believed in me and encouraged me to publish my work.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Mar 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781458214904

Margaret McCulloch

Margaret McCulloch grew up on a small farm near Milan, Georgia. She earned her master’s degree in education from Georgia Southwestern State University and taught for more than thirty years at Dodge Elementary and in the Telfair County School System in McRae, Georgia. She is the author of Campbell Farm and the Migrant Murders.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

C ODY CAMPBELL OWNED CAMPBELL FARM, the biggest peach shipping industry in the South, located near a small town called Sunny Dale. Cody got up before sunrise every morning and went to the warehouse. He checked the machines and went to his office to work. He read his mail, answered letters, checked shipments for the day, and figured his cost and profit.

Cody’s workers came in at eight every morning and machines hummed until five in the evening. Some of the workers packed peaches and vegetables, while others worked in the orchards and fields.

Cody’s inspectors checked the packed boxes before shipping them, because complaints from his customers pulled dollars out of his pockets. He had learned from experience that shipping crushed peaches or tomatoes compared to finding Spanish Onions in a Vidalia box.

Cody liked to party, but his business came first, especially during spring and summer. In the spring, field hands planted; in the late spring they gathered vegetables and peaches; in the summer they gathered more vegetables and peaches.

In spite of the hot fields and stuffy packing plant in June, shipments at Campbell Farm went out on time. At twelve o’clock, Cody came out of his office and walked through the plant. The Vidalia Onions out-smelled the peaches. He watched the graders as they grabbed peaches from the rolling belts, and listened to machines hum to a halt. The packers grabbed their lunches; brown bags rustled; and coke cans popped. Cody swallowed a hungry lump with thoughts of fried chicken for dinner. Then the smell of sardines hit his nose and turned his stomach.

On the way out, Cody asked Pedro to tell Mrs. Diaz that he wouldn’t be there for lunch; he had to go to Sunny Dale to buy more bags and boxes for the shipment going out the next day. He also told Pedro to tell Mr. Diaz to make sure he checked the machines before he locked up the plant and pulled out with his load.

Pedro rushed through dinner and hurried back to his duty. The familiar sound of air brakes trailed around the bend, and Pedro swung back the iron gates for the Mack trucks to drive through. The drivers honked at Pedro and took the narrow paved road to Campbell Farm’s packing plant. Pedro clamped the gates and walked back up the hill to the warehouse.

Before Pedro reached the loading ramp, the truck drivers had backed up to the ramp and waited for their trucks to get loaded. Pedro rushed up the ramp and the truck drivers followed him to the cool room to give him a hand with the boxes of peaches.

Later that evening, they finished loading and inspecting the trucks. The trucks got ready to pull out and the workers lined up before the time clock to call it a day.

Mr. Diaz walked out on the loading ramp and told the other drivers that he would get a late start, since he had to close the plant for Mr. Campbell. He added that he would catch up with them the next day at Bubba’s Truck Stop.

As the trucks eased away from the ramp, Pedro rushed ahead of them to open the gate. The drivers let out a loud honk at Pedro as they sped away. Pedro walked back to the warehouse to talk to his daddy before he left. As he rounded the corner, he heard angry voices. He inched his way around the building and walked toward the ramp.

Where is my shipment? the man said.

I told you I was not going to make a run this week, Mr. Diaz said.

You are lying, the man, said, You owe me $10,000.00 from the last haul.

Before Pedro reached the ramp, a loud blast stalled his feet. He turned to see a man dart around the truck and run toward the fence surrounding the warehouses. Pedro got a good look at the brown van on the other side of the fence as the motor roared and disappeared.

Pedro ran to the loading ramp and saw his daddy lying on the ground next to his truck. He knelt next to him, held tightly to his hand, and cried, Who shot you? Daddy, talk to me. Please do not die.

Minutes later, Cody pulled up to the ramp and saw Pedro hovering over his daddy’s body. Oh my God, what happened? Cody said as he knelt next to Pedro.

Blood streamed from Mr. Diaz’s temple, dripped from his ear lobes, and puddle around his head on the cement parking lot.

Cody ran into the warehouse and called an ambulance. Back at Mr. Diaz’s side, Cody pulled Pedro into his arms and told him the ambulance would be there in a few minutes. Then he pulled out his handkerchief, pressed it to Mr. Diaz’s wound, and tried to stop the blood that flowed from his head. Mr. Diaz’s dark hair fell around his rough bloody face; blood ran down his neck and soaked his collar. Cody grabbed his hand and held it tight. His hand felt like a rough pineapple, and his limp stillness made Cody cringe with fear. He tried to shake words from him. Who shot you, Mr. Diaz? Mr. Diaz never murmured a sound, and Cody looked at Pedro with a blank stare.

Pedro cried so hard he shook as he tried to get his daddy to talk to him.

Cody lifted Mr. Diaz’s shoulders and strained his muscles, but he finally moved him from the puddle of blood. Mr. Diaz had broad shoulders and a big belly that stretched the buttons on his shirt.

Minutes later, an ambulance screamed to a halt before the ramp, and Cody pulled Pedro to a stand. The paramedics checked Mr. Diaz’s vital signs, and quickly lifted him onto the stretcher and put him into the ambulance.

Cody asked the paramedic about Mr. Diaz’s vital signs, and he said they would do everything they could to keep him alive, but he had a weak pulse.

As the paramedic started to close the doors, Pedro pushed him aside and jumped into the ambulance. He sat next to his daddy, held his hand, cried, and begged him not to die.

The doctor pronounced Mr. Diaz dead at the hospital, and Pedro tried to be brave for his mama’s sake.

Mrs. Diaz stared down at her husband with shock. When they pulled the over her husband’s face, she broke down with sobs.

Pedro answered the cops’ questions with a shaky voice. He told them everything he had heard. The killer had asked his daddy what happened to his shipment and told his daddy that he owed him $10,000.00.

Cody told the cop that the killer had some other shipment in mind, because all shipments at Campbell Farm belonged to him.

The police questioned Pedro for another hour about the murder. Pedro gave them a description of the get-away van and told the detectives the same story over and over again.

The next morning, Cody closed the plant and the investigators took over. A crowd gathered outside the lines and huddled in groups to whisper about the murder. They trampled the lawns, bent the hedges, and broke flowers in bloom.

The investigators on the case seemed to think the killer wanted something in Campbell’s warehouse. They took pictures, dusted for fingerprints, and searched the warehouses and packing plants for the murder weapon. They bagged worthless evidence and left without a clue or a motive for Luis Diaz’s murder. They merely had a description of the suspect and the vehicle he drove.

Cody thought of the times he had sat at the same table with Mr. Diaz and his family. He could see his brown eyes twinkle as he leaned back and bragged about having lived with the same woman twenty-five years, because he liked her biscuits. He often used slang words, cursed a little, and repeated his answers at least twice, but everybody liked him. He worked hard and always put his family first. He had hauled fruits and vegetables for Campbell Farm to different states for more than five years, and Cody missed him already.

The Diaz family had moved to Georgia from Mexico to find farm work. Cody’s daddy had hired Luis Diaz as a truck driver to haul produce. After Cody’s parents were suddenly killed in an automobile accident, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, as well as Pedro, had been a life saver for a bachelor without parents. Mrs. Diaz cooked Cody’s meals, kept his house clean, ironed his clothes, and ran errands for him, while Mr. Diaz drove one of his trucks and help him in the warehouse. Pedro worked in the fields and the plant, while Cody worked in his daddy’s office and the plant. After Cody took up where his daddy left off, he trained Pedro to grade, pack, and load shipments.

Cody still missed his mother. She had been a good mother and kind to every one she met; she had many friends, especially church friends. Cody missed his father, too, but he had an entirely different outlook on life from his mother’s. He didn’t talk much about his faith. In his father’s younger days, he had earned the reputation for drinking liquor and loving women, but Cody remembered his father as a likeable man with a strong will. He worked hard and provided well for him and his mother. His father had taught him the tricks of the trade in running the shipping business and had left him a wealthy man. Cody couldn’t ask for a better father. He wanted to walk closely in his father’s footsteps.

Worn to a frazzle, Cody sat down in his chair and picked up the Macon Telegraph. As he read the obituaries, the news blared from the television: "An unidentified man murdered Luis Diaz at Campbell Farm late yesterday evening. The crime lab reported that Mr. Diaz died of a single gunshot wound to the head. The forty years old truck driver had worked for Campbell Farm for more than five years. Pedro Diaz found his father, and saw the killer run away from Campbell’s warehouse, climb a fence, and drive away in a 1965 brown Chevrolet van. Cody Campbell, who owns Campbell Farm, had left his warehouse right after lunch; he returned after the murder took place. The murder suspect is a white male, around six feet tall, and weights more than two hundred pounds.

Cody sat down at the table with Pedro and filled his plate with food that the neighbors brought. The large plate filled with apple tarts sitting in the center of the table looked delicious.

Mrs. Diaz had taken pains to iron the white shirt Pedro wore. His arms had grown an inch below his black linen coat sleeve, and his pants hung above his ankle. When Mrs. Diaz pointed out the tight suit and white socks bunched around Pedro’s bony ankles, Cody carried him shopping and bought him a new suit, shirt, and tie to wear to his daddy’s funeral. The Diaz family didn’t have much money, but they had been happy.

Cody hated funerals. He only visited his parent’s graves once a year. All funerals were sad, but this funeral made him relive his parent’s deaths. He had found Mr. Diaz to be a true friend, and Pedro seemed like the brother he never had.

Cody thought they would never reach the front bench. When they did, the stuffy church made him squirm in his seat. When they finished the graveside service, Cody didn’t hang around; he walked toward his truck and took off his tie before he cranked up the truck.

Later that evening, Cody walked through the warehouse. The aroma of fermented fruit and thousands of bruised peaches made him turn red in the face. The investigators had dumped his peaches from one box to another to search beneath them for the murder weapon. They had also moved his machines from their usual place. His loss would take his usual profit for the month of June. Worst of all, he had lost a good friend and the best truck driver he had.

Cody moved the field hands from the orchards to clean up the warehouse. By the end of the next day, they had cleaned up the fermented fruit and moved the machines back in place. Cody slapped Pedro on the back and told him the field hands had finally finished cleaning the warehouse and they were back in business. He added that the best shipment picked in months would be ready to go out the next day.

Pedro seldom smiled since his father’s murder. Cody slapped Pedro on the back and told him that he missed his daddy, too, and he knew exactly how he felt, because he had lost his parents, but time would help him heal, and he had to take one day at a time.

As Pedro walked toward home, memories of his daddy came to mind. He had always included Pedro in his talks about his experiences as a truck driver and his trips to different states. He had carried Pedro with him on several hauls. He missed his daddy’s attention and affection.

Before the next day ended, the usual red fuzzy streaks gleamed through the cracks on the stacked boxes. Cody felt proud of the Georgia Belles.

Mrs. Diaz’s eyes filled with tears when she saw Pedro walk in with Cody. She forced a smile and bragged that her Pedro had grown up to be a handsome man like his father.

Pedro held his head down with sadness

To stop Mrs. Diaz’s forthcoming words of grief and death, Cody quickly added humor to the conversation. He told them to take a look at his handsome face, and bragged about his being the most eligible bachelor in Sunny Dale

Pedro and Mrs. Diaz laughed and Pedro told him that he must not brag, because he might grow ugly with age.

Mrs. Diaz pushed a hand across her gray streaked head and grabbed her composure with a good breath. She said she would never get over her Luis’s death, but she had faith and the Lord would show her the way through the dark days ahead. She said she had always heard that the Lord would provide if one kept his faith.

Cody told her that he didn’t understand why the Lord looked after drunks and fools; they had no faith in the Lord or anybody else. He added that the fool who killed Luis didn’t have a conscience or a brain.

She said no one should question the Lord’s work. Then she talked about how she lived right; she went to church and lived by God’s word. She explained that God’s Ten Commandments said thou shall not steal, lie, or kill, and the Bible said one should forgive his enemies and turn the other cheek to those who did us wrong.

Cody told her he believed the devil got behind the man who killed Luis.

She said she believed the killer lived in Sunny Dale and his sins would find him out; he would pay for what he had done, and everything he had taken would be taken two fold.

Cody told her that no one could take a man’s life two times.

She said a rich man’s possessions would be stripped from him, and he would die a little every day.

Silence fell around them like a still winter night. Cody told her she sounded as if she knew who killed Mr. Diaz.

She nervously moved around the stove as she turned the frying chicken. Then she turned to him, blotted her brow, quickly came down her face with the faded apron, and said she believed the man who killed her Luis knew him well, and she also thought that many knew the killer, but they feared for their lives and would never tell. Then she almost broke down, but she straightened up and said the law would never know who killed her Luis. She added that Luis did not know his enemies. She turned back to the stove and kept her eyes on her dinner. As if talking to herself, she said she thanked God that her girls had grown up and married; she could not raise four children by herself. She turned to Pedro and told him that he must be the man of the house now that his daddy had passed. She took up the fried chicken, set it on the table, and told them to get to the table.

After dinner, Cody pushed his chair back and told Pedro they had a long, hot evening ahead. He wanted to get that shipment ready before closing time.

At six o’clock, Pedro pulled off his cap and wiped his sleeve across his brow. The smell of his own sweat made his see lather. When he reached home, he sat down on the steps, pulled off his shoes, and wiggled his toes.

When Cody walked up the back drive, he thought he had seen a ghost. Peach fuzz filled the wrinkles around his eyes and caked his nose.

Cody told Pedro the pickers finally finished with the Elberta orchard. They would be ready to ship the next day, and could start on the Hale orchard next to the road.

Cody pulled off his hat, shook it, slapped it back on his head, and said the watermelons were as ripe as a red hen and the best Jubilees New York would ever taste. He wanted to start shipping watermelons by the end of the next week. He clicked his shoes to get the dust off, walked up the steps, and said he wanted to hit the shower before going to eat.

Pedro smiled with thoughts of that big watermelon he had watched the last two weeks. His mouth watered for a big slice of that watermelon.

July brought even higher temperatures to the South, but the workers continued to pick and pack. As Cody climbed the hill, heat waves surrounded him like a blazing hell. The white house beyond the orchard looked like a giant ghost that hassled for a cool breeze. He neared the drive and a Brown Thrasher sailed over his head with a splashing surprise. She made her way to the birdbath sitting in the middle of the lawn, and perched like a queen. He looked at the purple and white splatter on his shoulder and took a breath of disgust. The bird had forced him to take a bath and change clothes before he ate dinner.

Cody could hardly wait to sink his teeth into a piece of Mrs. Diaz’s cubed steak. When he walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Diaz fussed as she moved pots around on the stove. She said she didn’t like to serve cold biscuits, and she wanted to get out of that kitchen. She wiped her mottled face with the tail of her apron, looked at Cody and asked why Pedro had not come to lunch.

Pedro appeared in the doorway and said, I like cold biscuits, Mama.

Cody said, I don’t especially like cold biscuits, but I can eat cubed steak right out of the refrigerator. He moved his long legs across the kitchen and took his place at the end of the table. After Mrs. Diaz blessed the food, Cody poured his glass to the brim with the bottle of wine sitting next to his plate. From the corner of his eye he could see that Mrs. Diaz watched him. She fussed about his drinking and smoking. She often told him that he should only drink a small amount of wine, because too much wine hurt the heart as well as the soul. Cody had once told her that he had taken after his daddy, and he never worried about his heart or his lost soul.

On the Fourth of July, Cody closed the plant. The packers as well as the pickers wanted to celebrate, and Cody had some celebrating of his own to do.

When the last shipment of watermelons and peaches went out, the workers started picking peanuts. Campbell Farm shipped raw peanuts in bushel bags to big cooperation’s all over the United States.

The workers picked, pulled, inspected, and packed through November. Then December brought a chill like the South had never seen. Wind whistled over the hills, swept the tips of the pines with a chill, and howled at the chimneys as it passed over Campbell Farm. The fire crackled with warmth, the tree glittered with ornaments, and the lights sprinkled brightly on the presents under the tree.

After dinner on Christmas day, Cody went with Mrs. Diaz and Pedro to their house to open presents. They lived near Cody in one of his rental houses. Mrs. Diaz had beautiful Christmas decorations, and a perfect tree. Candles on the mantle flicked shadows around Mr. Diaz’s face framed in gold above the mantel. His face shined with an unusual radiance, and his mouth parted with a slight smile.

The year had come and gone with the good and the bad. Like his daddy had always said, death, taxes and the bad weather come with life, profits, and the good weather. This year had been no different than the years before. Farmers worked and sweated, wished and worried, whittled and waited for the rains, and the rains didn’t always come at the right time. Farming seemed to be a bigger gamble with every passing year. Prices swung like a cat’s tail, back and forth, but Cody believed he had the best shipping business in the South.

In January, they groomed the orchards, fertilized the trees, cleared new ground, and plowed the land for a new crop.

CHAPTER TWO

S PRING COLORED THE ORCHARDS AND filled the air with the sweetness of flowers and twittering songs. Cody walked toward the orchard and stretched his arms to the heavens as his baritone voice rang out with a made tune. The beauty of the blooming dogwood trees reminded him of Easter. Easter brought back memories of his mother. She had told him a story about the Roman soldiers who killed Christ, and that story remained in his memory.

The Roman soldiers used a dog wood tree to make the cross used to crucify Jesus Christ. They nailed him to the cross, but he arose from the dead. This is why the dogwood trees bloom every year at the time Jesus arose from the dead. The most interesting thing about the blooms of the dogwood is the mark of the rusty nail scars on each of the dogwood blooms.

Everything his daddy told him about religion made sense. On the other hand, he could not take his mother’s story lightly; he couldn’t deny the existence of a God watching over the world when he examined the nail scars on the blooms of the dogwood.

Cody walked to the orchard and checked on Pedro before he went to his office. Pedro seemed to have the sprayer set perfect; he didn’t bother to stop him from working and walked on toward his office.

Pedro worked until dinner time to finish spraying the orchards. After he climbed down from the tractor, he still felt elevated. As he made his way to the house, the hot rays of the sun peeped through the dust that clouded the orchard with beautiful colors.

During the night, Cody awoke to the sound of rain hitting the tin roof. Pedro would have to spray the orchards again, and he couldn’t get into the boggy fields with the tractor for two or more days. Nature had her way and forced him to do other things from time to time. While he waited for the field to dry out, Pedro used the field hands to clean the packing house and warehouses.

Two days later, the earth had drunk the water, leaving the ground favorable for planting. The grass that had slumbered with the rain came back to life with the early morning sun. Pedro got an early start and sprayed the orchards again. Beyond the orchards, green machines tumbled the dark, rich earth and made rows for planting the fields.

After dinner, Pedro plowed rows for planting a garden. Cody always planted a separate vegetable garden close to the house.

In no time, blue Jays flew and sang above the fields covered with tender, green plants that had to be hoed. The cabbage curled and the carrots pushed their way through the dirt to sprout green leaves. In the distance, shadows lifted and lowered hoes as they slowly moved down the long rows and carefully softened the earth around the young plants. With the setting sun, they rested their hoes on tired shoulders and trudged toward home. Pedro made slow, determined steps behind them. Before he reached the back porch, the smell of fried ham hit his nose. He liked nothing better than fried ham, rice, red gravy, and biscuits.

Orders for vegetables piled in, and Campbell Farm’s shipping business boomed. Cody had hired additional graders and packers to get the shipments out. He had more paper work than he could do and his secretary had picked a bad time to go on maternity leave.

Cody put an ad in the paper for a secretary, and a woman answered his ad right away. He had to cut his lunch hour short to interview the applicant. Before leaving the table, he cut a large piece of apple pie, and Mrs. Diaz topped it with vanilla ice cream.

In the meantime, Carrie Robbins drove toward Campbell Farm for her interview. She passed three packing houses, where the workers graded and packed peaches and vegetables for shipment. She turned up the lane in front of Campbell Farm and turned her head when she saw the magnificent colonial home sitting on a hill beyond the plant. She wondered why a bachelor without any family lived in that huge house all alone. Carrie wanted to climb the steps and see the inside of the house.

As Cody walked back toward his office, a woman drove through the parking lot and parked in front of his office. She got out of her car and walked toward the entrance of the brick building bordered by hedge. She looked as if she had stepped out of Vogue Magazine, and the blond curls falling around her shoulders were the blue ribbon poodle of the sixties. She disappeared through the front door and Cody followed close behind her.

In the foyer, Cody extended his hand and introduced himself.

She nervously twisted a Kleenex in her left hand as she held out the right and said, I am Carrie Robbins. I am interested in your secretarial position.

Come with me to my office, Cody said.

She bogged across the beige carpet and moved her eyes around the room. File cabinets and a copy machine took the wall on her right. A huge green plant centered two leather arm chairs on the left, and a gray metal desk took up space before the double windows. Expensive drapes covered the windows, and a large green plant sat beyond the drapes below a large, colorful painting by Robert Wood.

Cody offered Carrie an armchair, moved his tall frame behind his desk, and sat down.

Carrie moved her eyes from the muscles in his arms down his fantastic body, and settled on his face. His blue eyes took her in with magnetic warmth that sent a flush of excitement from her head to her toes.

Miss Robbins, before I start my questions and take up your time, I should tell you that this position will only be temporary. My secretary is going on maternity leave and she says she might want to take off from work for a year or more. If you don’t want a temporary position, I will understand.

If I meet your qualifications, I will take the position and work as long as you need me, Carrie said.

Very well, Cody said. Can you type and take dictation?

I can type eighty words a minute, take dictation, and use an adding machine, she said. My accounting skills are very good. I feel proud to be an honor graduate.

Do you have any references? he asked.

Ed Harris will give you a reference, she said.

Ed Harris? he said, raising his brow with interest.

"Ed Harris is my uncle. He is married to my mother’s sister, Blanch. My mother is Sarah Robbins. As she explained her mother’s social position, Cody thought of what an asset she would be to his business.

His smile came and went as he introduced her to the clerks and carried her through the warehouse and packing plant.

Carrie hated the smell of Vidalia onions; she hated all onions. On the other hand, fast hands moving fruits and vegetables from the rolling tables impressed her. Cody Campbell impressed her more than anything else she had seen.

Cody felt her eyes on him, and he returned her gaze before he showed her the office where she would be working.

She liked the idea of her office being right next to Mr. Campbell’s. Afterwards, she followed him back to his office and sat down. He asked when she could start working. She smiled and told him she could start on Monday. Cody walked her back to the foyer and told her to have a nice day.

When Carrie told her mother that Cody Campbell hired her as his secretary, Sarah Robbins raised hell. She didn’t like the idea of Carrie working for Cody Campbell. Her resentment stemmed from gossip she had heard. She warned Carrie that Cody Campbell went with every woman that looked his way; he had a new girl friend every week; he didn’t care if his women wore a skirt or came on to him in the nude; if his women wore skirts, he pretty soon talked them into coming out of their skirts. She added that Cody Campbell should paint lady’s man and Romeo on his shirts to warn women. Sarah took a breath of disgust and told Carrie that Cody Campbell’s money talked.

Carrie told her mother that she wanted to hear what Cody Campbell’s money had to say.

Sara told her she didn’t want her to ruin her reputation, and asked why she had not asked her Uncle Ed for a job at the Sunny Dale Bank. She reminded Carrie that her Aunt Blanch had already encouraged her to get a job at the bank; she could advance in no time and make a good salary working for her Uncle Edward.

Sara’s lecture made Carrie want to scream. She told her mother that she didn’t want to work for her Uncle Edward. She reminded her mother that she wanted to attend Harvard, but she couldn’t afford to send her.

Sarah wouldn’t shut up. Carrie heard the same words over again. She told her that Blanch offered to pay her tuition to any college in Georgia, and she should take her up on the offer, since she had a natural talent for art; she needed to get her degree in art and teach. Then she started naming over the colleges in Georgia that Carrie could attend.

Carried told her mother she wouldn’t attend college at all if she couldn’t go to Harvard. She hated her mother’s poor mouthing; she talked about the bills she had to pay and she couldn’t afford to pay a penny more than she already paid. She got up, walked toward the kitchen, and turned back at the door to tell Carrie she needed to take on some responsibility.

Carrie heard those same words every few days. Her mother made her furious. She went to her room, slammed the door, and sat down on her bed. Pictures of Cody Campbell flashed in her mind and she couldn’t wait for him to ask her for a date. If her mother knew the real reason she had gone to work at Campbell Farm, she would have heart failure.

Sarah lay her head back on the chair with defeat. She had lost all control of Carrie when she turned sixteen. If she could have saved her marriage, maybe things would have turned out differently, but Carrie acted as if she hated her after she divorced her father. Carrie took after her father; he had always been a selfish, money hungry fool with no feelings or compassion for anyone.

Carrie got excited about her first day on the job at Campbell Farm. She wanted her appearance to be perfect. After she got dressed, combed her hair, and fixed her face, she looked in the mirror to check her