Fred explained that she patrolled the timber as they cleared it, looking for wild bees.  She captured the hives, which he supposed she sold or kept for her own use.  Fred had heard of her but had never seen her in person.

“Come on up here,” she said.  “And bring that ice chest.”

“What about those bees?”  Fred asked.

“I got ’em settled,” she said.

“When that dozer starts moving again, they won’t be settled,” Fred said.

Prentiss considered going on down the river.  But he was curious about the bee lady.  A pretty girl?   From a distance she looked good in those jeans and t-shirt.  So he towed the canoe over to the bank and beached it.  He picked up the ice chest containing fish and beer and turned to start up the bank.  The bee lady had disappeared.

“No bra,” Fred said.  “They said she’s hot.”

“Too hot to touch,” Prentiss said.  “That’s a big pistol for a little lady.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mess around with her.  But she won’t shoot you for looking.”

He made his way up the bank with the ice chest, the soil dry and crumbly under his feet.   When he came over the lip of the bank, he saw Fred standing in a clearing, fallen trees scattered about everywhere.  He was watching the bee lady who was over by the Rome plow.  She bent over and directed a few puffs of smoke from her smoke can at the trunk of a fallen tree.

“Get that bulldozer out of here,” she yelled to Fred.

Fred did not move.

“These bees are tame,” she said.  “It’s a real nice hive.  Not mean at all.”

“You sure?”  Fred asked.

“I’m sure,” she said.

“Could I have one more beer?”  Fred asked.

Prentiss gave him a beer.  Fred picked his way through the fallen trees to the dozer and mounted it.  Prentiss could tell that he was expecting to get stung at any moment, his body stiff and tensed up.  He settled himself at the controls and opened the beer.  He took a long drink and put the can on the seat beside him.  Then he looked at Prentiss and grinned.  He put the dozer in gear and steered it off along the edge of the standing trees.

The departure of the Rome plow revealed the bee lady’s ATV, which had been concealed behind it.

“Hey, bring that ice chest over here,” she shouted.

***

            He walked out of the sunlight and into the shade of a big pin oak.   She stood there, the smoke can at her feet.  Her face was sunburned, her nose a little misshapen, the only flaw in an otherwise pretty face.  He wondered if she had been in an accident or been beaten by a drunken father or lover.  He set down the ice chest and opened it.

            “Didn’t you bring anything to drink?” he asked.

            “Plenty of water,” she said.  “But when I saw you and that dozer man drinking beer I knew I had to have me one.  I’ll be pleased to pay you for it.”

            “You calmed those bees down.  That’s enough pay for me.”

            He reached into the ice chest and handed her a beer.

            “I think maybe bees like you,” she said.

            “How would you know that?” he asked.