Southern Horror

by Ron Shiflet

“And I’m mighty appreciative of that fact,” answered Tom, getting down from the horse. He extended his hand and smiled as the woman took it in a firm steady grip.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Bowden.”

  He grinned more broadly and said, “Just call me Tom. Mr. Bowden is who you’ve been seeing after.”

  “About that ... Tom. Seeing your uncle might be a shock since you ain’t seen him for a spell.”

  “I expect so,” he answered. “Let me go in first and surprise him.”

  “Sure, Tom,” replied Naomi in a voice that made him warm inside.

  Tom tried to put a good face on his uncle’s condition but it had been difficult. The once strapping man was little more than skin and bones and only a shell of the person he had once been. Uncle Willard was pleased to see Tom, and Naomi later related to him that the old man hadn’t been so animated in weeks. The two men talked of old times and old friends while Naomi prepared supper and smiled at their entertaining banter. “Yep, Tom,” said Uncle Willard, “She cooks as pretty as she looks.”

  “You must be feeling better, Mr. Bowden,” laughed Naomi.

  Later, after a meal of cornbread, ham hocks, and beans, Tom went to the barn to check on Amos and see that the horse was secured for the night. Naomi walked in while Tom was giving the horse a cube of sugar. She smiled broadly and cleared her throat to announce her presence. Tom turned, returning her smile as he took out his cigarette makings.

  “I ain’t seen him so happy in weeks,” said Naomi. “Your showing up has done him a world of good.”

  “He’s the closest thing to a pappy that I got. My own father was killed when I was a baby. I got no recollection of the man.”

  “I’m sorry, Tom,” replied Naomi. “But I’m happy you had someone like Mr. Bowden to raise you. He’s a good man.”

  “That he is,” Tom answered. “If I got any good qualities, I reckon I got them from him.”

  “’Course you got good qualities, Tom.”

  He smiled thinly and said, “Most folks around these parts might beg to differ.”

  Naomi became solemn and said, “It takes a brave man to stand up for his beliefs when his friends and neighbors turn against him.”

  “Or a stupid one,” Tom said. “I just couldn’t march off and play Johnny Reb so some rich bastard, if you’ll pardon my language, could lord it over other men.”

  “Like I said,” Naomi replied, “You’re a good man. It ain’t none of my business but I can see that you’re a troubled man as well. If you ever want to talk about it I’d be glad to listen.”

  “I appreciate that, Naomi. Maybe some other time.”

  Naomi smiled. “You know your own mind. Let me know if you change it.”

  “I’ll do that. And thanks for offering.”

  Three weeks passed in what seemed the blink of an eye. Tom spent hours of pleasant conversation with his uncle and had developed strong feelings for Naomi. Naomi had a beautiful face and body but it was much more than such superficial features that attracted Tom. Her ready smile, compassion for others and the melodic lilt of her voice had all played a role in capturing his heart. Tom knew that falling in love with her was a dangerously illogical act but when did love ever heed the dictates of logic? He wasn’t a religious man but he agreed with the biblical teachings that every man and woman were equal in the eyes of God. He knew many of his neighbors didn’t share his feelings and it had led to trouble on more than one occasion.

  Uncle Willard was failing fast and Tom grew tense as the days inched closer to the time of the full moon. Naomi was a Godsend and Tom eventually related to her the strange behavior that worried him. Her face took on an expression of fear and concern as Tom described his dreams and unaccountable behavior. “Let me think on it,” she said, promising to consult someone who knew more than her about such things.

  Tom learned other things during the three weeks since his arrival in Pine Top. Things that disturbed and angered him. He had kept his word to Sheriff Teague and had, so far, avoided trouble with Buck Trent. However, the things told to him by Naomi insured that trouble was going to be unavoidable. Trent, for all his hate-filled talk of niggers, lusted after Naomi and had made it clear to her that one way or another he would eventually get what he was after. Prior to Tom’s arrival, Trent had made frequent visits to the Bowden cabin, ostensibly to check on the elder Bowden’s health. During these visits, he always managed to corner Naomi and convey his intentions. He had tried sweet talk, offers of money and finally threats but had managed to make no headway with the attractive woman. Naomi despised the man and shuddered upon recalling how he once caught her unaware at the edge of the woods one morning as she traveled to the Bowden cabin. Only the unexpected arrival of Sheriff Teague had saved her from a loathsome fate. Trent released her before she could scream but had warned her against saying anything to anyone about the incident. “Remember gal,” he told her, “no one’s going to take the word of a nigger bitch over that of a white man.”

  Tom seethed in fury when he heard the story. He planned to leave Pine Top following his uncle’s death but had no intention of leaving Naomi at the mercy of scum like Trent. Taking care of Trent was one way in which he could repay the woman for her kindness. And repaying debts was something he believed in strongly.

  Tom sat at the kitchen table, finishing his coffee and smoking. Uncle Willard was worse and slept in the bedroom. Tom was feeling antsy, aware that the moon would be full in three nights. He didn’t want to leave his uncle during this time but was worried about what might happen if the strange transformation came over him again. He reached for the coffee pot, almost dropping it as someone knocked on the door. Damn fool! It’s probably Naomi. I need to get a grip.

  Tom opened the door. The welcome sight of Naomi and an older black woman met him. “Morning Naomi, morning Ma’am,” he said, removing his hat to the gray-haired and wrinkled woman.

  “Tom, this is my Auntie Salome.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Tom said. “I see who Naomi gets her fine looks from.”

  The woman frowned at Naomi and said, “He best not let folks hear him talking like that in public. Wouldn’t do for him or you.”

  “Auntie!” exclaimed Naomi. “Tom is just being friendly.”

  “Being too friendly with us could cause him trouble.”

  “No disrespect, Ma’am,” replied Tom, “but I ain’t one to let other folks choose my friends. It don’t sit right with me.”

  Salome barely repressed a smile. “I’ve heard that about you, Mr. Tom.”

  He grinned and said, “And probably a lot more.”

  Tom ushered the two women inside and poured coffee for them. Naomi checked on Uncle Willard and the three of them made small talk for a few minutes. Silence settled over the room as Salome stared intently at Bowden for a minute before saying, “Loup garou.”

  Tom looked puzzled and said, “Loup garou?”

  Naomi lowered her eyes but Tom caught the glint of a tear. “A curse is upon you, Mr. Tom. A sad and terrible thing.”

  “I don’t understand,” replied Tom, scratching his head. “As for curses and such, I wasn’t raised to put much stock in them.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” replied Salome, sadly. “I have the sight and can see clearly the curse of the shape shifter on you. The sight can be a blessing or a curse, depending on a body’s way of thinking. My old granny had the sight and I guess she passed it down to me. There’s a beast inside you, Mr. Tom. When the moon is full, you change into this beast and can’t control your actions. Naomi told me of your time out west and it sounds like the curse was passed to you during the attack in the mining town.”

  Tom started to interrupt but Salome waved him to silence. “The truth can be an unfair thing but it is still the truth. If you look in your heart you can’t deny it.”

  “I ain’t ready to say I believe you, but if this is true then what can I do? How can I get rid of the curse?”

  Salome frowned and said; “Only one t
hing can free you of it. Death.”

  Naomi started to cry and Tom lowered his head. “Damn,” he whispered. “Are you saying I must live with this for the rest of my life?”

  “I’m afraid so. Until you die or until someone kills you. As you grow older, the curse will become stronger and you’ll have even less power over it. Have you killed during the times that you walked as the beast?”

  Tom thought of awakening, covered in blood and shook his head. “I don’t think so, at least nothing human.”

  “That is a blessing. You will, in time, if you ain’t stopped. It would kill me if something was to happen to Naomi.”

  “Damn!” Tom yelled, pounding his fist on his leg. “Nothing’s going to happen to Naomi! I won’t allow it.”

  Salome looked sadly at her niece and sighed. “You can’t stop it, Mr. Tom. It has already happened.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Tom, his face reddening in anger.

  Salome took Tom’s hand into her own and spoke. “Naomi is in love with someone she can never have. A doomed man. I’m sorry for you both, I truly am.”

  Salome stood slowly and walked to Naomi’s side. She whispered something to her and kissed her on the cheek. Turning, she left the cabin and headed home.

  Naomi spent the remainder of the day taking care of Uncle Willard. Tom made himself scarce for the better part of the day, returning an hour before supper. He had given much thought to Salome’s words but was confused and angry. Tom didn’t want to believe what Salome had told him but he somehow knew it was true.

  What the hell can I do? I don’t want to die but I sure as hell can’t place Naomi and Uncle Willard in danger. Of course as bad as I hate to admit it, Uncle Willard is about finished. Somehow I’ve got to control this thing until he passes. Then, I can light out from here and figure something out. I have to kill Buck Trent before I go. God, I can’t bear the thought of leaving Naomi.

  “Tom?”

  “Huh, what’s that?”

  “Mr. Bowden is asleep now. Do you think we could go outside and talk?”

  “Sure, Naomi,” replied Tom. “I was just doing some heavy thinking.”

  Tom and Naomi walked in the cool October evening and talked of options. “So according to Salome, silver is what it takes to put me down when the shape of the beast is on me.”

  “Yes. But Auntie’s old ... she could be wrong about you.”

  “Do you believe that? She don’t strike me as the kind of woman who is often wrong. Besides, the things ya’ll talked on before reaching the cabin pretty much fits. The nightmares, the restlessness when the days approach the time of the full moon ... all of it.”

  They gazed silently at the sky, seeing the large pale object and knowing that the time was drawing near. Tom leaned against the barn and rolled a smoke. The night was still and deceptively peaceful. Naomi looked at Tom and then at the barn as if she had seen it for the first time. “I’ve got an idea, Tom,” she said excitedly.

  “I could use one,” he answered morosely.

  “This may sound crazy to you but hear me out.”

  “Shoot, Naomi, let’s hear it.”

  He listened to the woman and smiled thinly. “I just don’t know. I suppose it might work in the short run.”

  “We’ve got to try,” said Naomi. “It only has to hold you for the one night ... when the change comes.”

  “Hell, I’m willing to give it a try,” replied Tom. “I ain’t leaving here until I see this thing through with Uncle Willard. I owe him that much.”

  Tom placed his arm around Naomi and pulled her close. “Truth is, since being near you for the past few weeks, leaving here is the last thing I want to do.”

  “I know, Tom. I know.”

  The next two days passed quickly. Tom reinforced the barn door and spent the remainder of the time helping Naomi attend to Uncle Willard’s needs. The dying man had lapsed into a coma and could die at any time. Naomi and Tom talked of many things over the course of those days but avoided discussing the most important. They both knew what had to be done and everything was prepared for the moment. And then the moment arrived.

  “Remember,” he said, “You’re going to lock me in the barn, check on Uncle Willard for the night and ride Amos back to your place.”

  “But Tom ...”

  “No, I won’t hear any argument on it. That’s what needs to be done. I’ll admit to being scared and I still ain’t sure anything will happen but I won’t take a chance on anything happening to you.”

  “Someone ought to stay with your uncle.”

  “Look,” he replied , “It ain’t like I don’t care but there’s nothing you can do for him at this point except pray that he makes it through the night. If that happens then we’ll both be around for him at the end.”

  “Well,” replied Naomi, “your mind’s set on it so there’s no use in arguing with you.”

  “That’s right,” he answered. “Maybe everything will play out all right.”

  “Maybe,” said Naomi hopefully.

  “Well, I guess it’s about that time,” said Tom, nodding toward the reinforced door.

  Naomi smiled and nodded her head bravely.

  “Remember, you’re to ride home and not come back until morning. Right?”

  “Right, Tom.”

  The tall dark woman placed her hands on Tom’s broad shoulders and squeezed. Her head moved forward and they kissed deeply, hugging each other tightly in the dim light of sundown. “God I wish things were different,” she sighed, a look of profound sadness on her face.

  Tom started to speak but Naomi stopped him. “Don’t, Tom. Neither one of us can change the way things are. It ain’t meant to be in this world. We both know what’s in our hearts and that has to be enough for now.”

  There was something important that she wanted to tell Tom but decided that it would have to wait. He had a right to know about the child she was carrying though she didn’t really believe it could change things. Still, she would tell him. But not before this trouble was behind them.

  He nodded and turned his back to the woman in order for her to tie his hands. When finished, he turned around to look at her once more. Stepping into the barn, he forced a smile and said, “Now get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “God willing, Tom,” she replied. “God willing.”

  Naomi closed and bolted the door, leaving Tom in the darkness of the barn’s interior. Leaning her forehead against the rough wood, she whispered, “I love you.”

  Naomi lit the oil lamp and sat nervously at the kitchen table. Her strong slender fingers drummed uneasily on its wooden surface.

  Tom, you’re crazy if you think I’d leave you and Mr. Bowden out here alone. Let the world be damned. I’ll not abandon a friend and the man I love. Love? How could this have happened? Why, God? Why have you done this to me?

  She looked at Tom’s Army Colt on the table and frowned. Whatever happened, she doubted her will to use it against Tom, not that it would probably do any good. Leaving the table, she walked to the bedroom to check on Uncle Willard. Reaching to wipe his brow, Naomi realized that the old man was gone. Her eyes filled with tears as she covered him with the sheet. Mr. Bowden had always been good to everyone, regardless of color. He had been rightly proud of Tom and had raised him to be a good man. You should be proud. Now go to our loving father who is proud of you. My prayers go with you.

  Returning to the kitchen, she sat and waited. She listened to the steady ticking of the clock. It had been Mr. Bowden’s most prized possession outside of Tom. Time passed slowly and she began to nod, work and worry beginning to take their toll. She had ventured to open the cabin door earlier but had heard no commotion from the barn. Perhaps Auntie Salome was wrong ... perhaps Tom had misconstrued his own behavior. The bloated yellow moon hung mockingly in the sky, bathing the timbered countryside in its pallid glow. She closed the door and uttered a prayer. It was all that she could do.

  The door flew open with a thunderous crash, c
ausing her to gasp. A huge shadow was cast on the wall but it didn’t belong to Tom. Buck Trent passed through the open doorway and grinned. “Well, gal, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  Naomi backed away from the table, placing her back against the wall. Belatedly, she looked to Tom’s pistol on the table as Trent strode into the cabin. “Don’t even think about it, bitch!”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “What do you want here? You can’t come barging in here like this ... Tom will kill you!”

  “Tom?” Trent asked. “Well ain’t you two right chummy? Nigger, ain’t you got no more sense than to call a white man by his first name? I reckon I’ll have to teach you some manners since you don’t seem to know your place.”

  “Tom’ll kill you! You’re nothing but trash.”

  Trent’s eyes narrowed in anger and he stepped forward. “That’s another thing. I know for a fact that Tom Bowden is locked and tied in the barn.”

  “How did you ... ‘

  “I was watching from the edge of the woods,” replied Trent. “I know something queer is going on out here but I ain’t quite got it figured yet. Bowden is crazier than a shithouse rat and what I saw just proves it. What’s the matter, gal? Did you have to lock him away to keep from wearing out that play-pretty you got under your dress?”

  “Go to hell, you bastard!”

  Trent leaped forward and a sharp backhand sent Naomi crashing into the wall. Stunned, she slumped to the floor and stifled a sob.

  “I told you I was going to teach you some manners.”

  Naomi gazed defiantly at Trent.

  “Where’s old man Bowden?” Trent asked.

  “Dead,” whispered Naomi.

  “Well, that’s right thoughtful of him. Looks like you and me won’t have to worry about being disturbed.”

  Naomi said nothing but continued to glare at the man.

  Trent leered and said, “You’re quiet for now but once I start on you they’ll hear you clean into Pine Top.”

  “I’m not afraid of you!” hissed Naomi. “You ain’t half the man that Tom Bowden is.”