The End of Hell(part two)

     As the water began to recede, I breathed a sigh of relief.  As in the past, the water never rose above my ability to breathe.  I knew that for a few days or even weeks, everything would return to normal.  The stench would be gone, slowly to return.  I would still be chained to the wall, not able to escape, but things were better.  For a while anyway.  I could function within my constraints.  Then I could return to happier times, growing up on the farm, where the day started out cool and damp.
     By mid-morning, the sun had dried the dew and warmed up the soil.  While grandpa and his hired hands picked cotton, mother laid me down for a nap.  What a glorious bed it was; the trailer was half filled with fresh picked, fluffy white cotton.  Quite a contrast with where I am now.  When I awoke, I was hot, thirsty and irritable.  All the hired hands were at the end of the rows, more than a quarter mile away.  All that I could see were the mules standing patiently.  Half asleep, resting one back leg and still hitched to the wagon.  The only sounds were the gnats buzzing in my ears and landing on my eyes.  The mocking birds were singing their song in the small trees close by at the edge of the field.  Thinking I was by myself, I started to cry.
     Just as I did, Benny came out from under the wagon where he had been playing in the sandy soil.  He climbed up the front wheel, looked over the side and smiled at me.  I was embarrassed, but shouldn't have been, cause he was lonesome too. 
     "Come on", he said, "I'll help you out and we'll play some marbles."  I was too young to play, but he didn't seem to mind.  He walked over to the shade of the large oak tree at the edge of the field.  From under the bush he picked up the "Daddy Bucks" gallon jug, filled with water.  It had been filled with ice and wrapped with yesterday's "Dothan Eagle" newspaper.  As he brought it back to me, I took a drink of the cool refreshing water.  We could not drink out of the jug, because that would not be sanitary, so he poured it into the metal dipper.  Everyone drank out of that.  By the time he put the jug back, everyone had returned to the wagon.
     Grandpa had nailed a set of cotton scales to the sideboard of the wagon and let it extend behind the wagon.  It was a chore to lift the heavy sacks of cotton onto the scales.  Some of the men and a few of the women had over a hundred pounds each of cotton in their sacks.  A few had rocks and cotton boles mixed in with their cotton, but grandpa would throw it out and chastise them.  After the weigh in, he would go to Boonie's store and get everyone a R. C. Cola and a moon pie.  By the time he returned, they had made a round and were ready to weigh in again.
     When I reached up to scratch my head, the chains clattered against the stone and woke me up.  I was irritated to be back here.