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A naughty glimmer then came to her eyes,
she grabbed her man’s wrist, and led him inside,
and for a month this arrangement went smooth,
sure, some people talked, but naught could they prove,
until Preacher John saw things with his own eyes.

Three weeks later came that stern and tall man,
frowned when he saw Amos clearing the land,
he said nothing, but went straight to the house,
and coldly called for Joanne to come out,
glaring as if she were already damned.

“Who is this man on my own son’s farm plot?”
He growled fiercely, shoulders is a knot.
“Just a farm-hand I hired to do tasks,
qith Gunther gone, my finances do lack,
and all our acres have been left to rot.”

John just frowned, said, “It’s not appropriate.
people will talk, they ill call you a slut,
alone with a man, no husband about,
I think that you should get rid of him now."
He crossed his arms with a defiant huff.

She shrugged and said, “Then you’ll lose much income,
since you own this land, profit from work done.
So many think that my Gunther is dead,
and I admit at times I have been lead,
to think the same, and from my duties run.

“But when he returns, he’ll see his lands tilled,
to take up the plow, and I’m sure he will.
Should I just let trees and weeds grow up thick,
when this young man vows to take care of it,
asking only food and board as his bill?”

John stood awhile, just grinding his teeth,
said, “I’m not convinced he isn’t a thief…
but if for my boy you’ve set to this task,
I suppose it’s best that I let it pass,
so long as fifty percent comes to me.”

Joanne didn’t fight, considered it rent,
John gave a scowl, then away he went,
Amos kept working, hacking through the brush,
smiled at the thought of Joanne’s sweet touch,
for her he would farm, again and again.

She smiled, seeing her in-law vanish,
knowing that for now, she would have her wish,
no more loneliness, cast off in this world,
a man around whom at night she could curl,
after six long years, she much wanted this.

Just to be safe, she waited an hour,
he knew just why, so he was not dour,
when night was falling, the preacher long gone,
Amos went to her, like siren’s song,
and in their passions were both devoured.

For months on this arrangement did proceed,
Amos worked the land, tilling and pulling weeds,
did the laundry, except some times
when Amos snuck down, his love to find,
and in their cove steal time to slake their needs.

CONTINUES IN PART V.
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