Luke pulled the curtain in front of the room’s sole window, then stood back. He looked around the room, dimly lit by the dying fire in the fireplace. This was his home, the room where his family sat and ate, where he had slept for all nine years of his life. One night of troubled sleep shouldn’t be enough to cause him to be afraid in this place. Shaking his head at his silliness, he walked to the fireplace and used the hearth shovel to turn the coals over and extinguish the flames.
Late that night, Luke woke once again to thickened air and a feeling of dread that caused his heart to jump. He told himself that it was just his mind playing tricks. Resisting the urge to hide under his blankets as he had the night before, he cracked open his eyelids and peered into the darkness. Though he saw nothing, he was sure that he heard the soft shifting of clothing.
Once again, two glowing eyes like softly burning coals opened up in the air over his bed. Luke’s nose caught a whiff of foul smoke and a third coal appeared just under the other two. A third eye? Then the beast inhaled and the third coal flared and Luke understood that it was the tip of a lit cigar.
The gleam of the cigar’s tip briefly illuminated a face that was scarred and horrible. Surely this was the face of the Devil. Luke was frozen with fear, unable to move as the beast’s gleaming eyes looked down on him. It let out a low chuckle and its form shifted. A long-fingered hand came in to view, reaching for him.
Luke tried to shout, but nothing came out. He strained against the spell of fear that immobilized him and, just before the beast’s hand touched him, something inside his mind flexed. His hand lashed out, knocking the beast’s hand aside. He would have screamed, but his vocal chords seemed to still be paralyzed.
“Hmph!” grunted the ember-eyed thing softly. It leaned in closer until its gaze was level with his. Its voice was deep and gravelly and full of disappointment as it said with smoky breath, “Not quite yet.”
With that, the eyes closed and the cigar’s glowing tip dimmed. Then, as abruptly as it had arrived, the feeling of dread evaporated. The air lost its thickness and the smell of cigar smoke vanished. Luke pulled the covers back over his head.
He huddled there for a long time, shivering, wondering what to do. There were very few options open to him. Most children would have immediately run to their parents. They would have done so the first night this had happened. Then again, most children saw their parents as a comforting bulwark between them and the rest of the world. Luke’s relationship with his parents was a bit more complicated.
He lay in bed sleepless the rest of the night, his mind churning. Just before dawn, his stepfather entered the room and quietly started a fire in their small stove. Luke pretended to sleep, knowing he couldn’t speak to Jeremy Payne about this.
For much of Luke’s young life, he had been certain that his stepfather hated him. It wasn’t that Jeremy was an abusive man. He wasn’t. He was a hard worker and an attentive husband and had never overstepped his bounds with Luke physically or verbally in any way, but he and Luke had never been close. In fact, he avoided Luke as much as possible.
It wasn’t until he was a few years older that Luke would come to understand. Jeremy Payne fulfilled his duties as a parent only as far as he was allowed. In their household, everyone kept to their proper place and Luke’s mother decided what was proper. At a young age she had taught him to call his stepfather “Jeremy” and Jeremy was careful never to refer to Luke as “Son”. There had certainly never been any talk of Luke taking the Payne name for himself. He was well aware that he would forever be a Bassett in his mother’s mind.
Luke listened as Jeremy went through his morning routine. He quietly lit the lamp and got the coffee brewing, then pulled on his boots and warmed his hands at the stove. Then Luke’s mother came in and fried up the slew of eggs that would serve as both breakfast and lunch for the family. Jeremy ate quickly, kissed Luke’s mother on the cheek, and headed out to work on his current job.
Luke stayed silent until he was sure his stepfather was gone. At the sound of the front door closing behind the man, Luke pulled back his covers and sat up. His mother was sitting at their small table, her back to him as she ate. He grimaced as he pulled up the courage to speak.
Rebecca Payne was the town school marm and a highly intelligent woman. She was a believer in reason, dignity, responsibility, and the pursuit of knowledge and, as a teacher, she took that last belief very seriously. Her son was expected to learn twice as much as the other children and she wasn’t satisfied until he did. But her strict adherence to reason wasn’t what made Luke hesitate to tell his mother what had happened to him the last two nights. Rebecca was also highly religious.
When Rebecca had come to Luna Gorda she had been both alone and very pregnant. This was a scandalous position to be in, especially for a prospective teacher, and though she claimed that she had been left in this state after being widowed in the war, there was still talk. Her only defense to these rumors was public devoutness and she clung to it with desperation. She was the first to enter the church each Sunday and the last to leave and when it came to the subject of sin or evil, she had a hair trigger that could turn her reason to anger.
Luke worried that his mother would not take the news of his demonic guest well. The prospect of telling her about it was almost as frightening to Luke as the visitor itself. Nevertheless, that seemed his only option.
Luke cleared his throat. “Mother-.”
“I was about to wake you,” she said without turning around. “Up and dressed.”
Luke did as he was told, gathering up the courage to speak. By the time he had tied his shoes, Rebecca had finished eating her breakfast and was cutting thick slices of bread. He licked his lips and finally blurted out, “Mother, I woke up in the night and-and there was this . . . thing.”
“Thing?” She began to put together the egg sandwiches that would be their lunch, not even looking at him. “We’ve talked about this. Be concise when speaking to adults, son. Jabbering makes you sound foolish.”
He winced. This was often the way conversations with his mom went. “Sorry. I had a hard time getting back to sleep so I’m still kind of tired.”
She stopped what she was doing and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Are you trying to avoid going to school?”
“No!” he said, his courage deflating. Instead of explaining what he had intended, he found himself adding lamely, “I was just letting you know.”
“Hmm. Well push through it. And don’t try to nap later. The best cure for a bad night’s sleep is a hard day’s work. If you go to bed tired, you’ll sleep the night through,” Rebecca said sagely. She turned back to the table to finish wrapping up their lunch in paper. “Now, come and eat. We must leave for school soon.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Luke replied.
She pointed at the cupboard and he fetched a plate, frowning. The last thing he felt at that moment was hungry. He looked at the scrambled eggs and the crusty end of the bread his mother had set aside for him and slouched onto his stool. Luke took an unenthusiastic bite and chewed glumly, hoping his stepfather would find a better job soon.
Jeremy Payne was a carpenter by trade, a profession that could bring in decent money when a town was growing. Unfortunately, Luna Gorda was not in the middle of a boom. For the past six months, most of the family’s income had come from his mother’s modest teaching pay.
When times were slow like this, Luke’s stepfather was forced to do odd jobs as a general handyman. The local folks didn’t often have much in the way of extra money to spend on repair work so they would often pay him in trade. For the last two weeks he had been working on Mr. Sampson’s chicken coops, which meant he brought home fresh eggs.
Luke shoved the food around the plate with his fork unenthusiastically as he tried to think up a way to bring up the night’s visit again.
“Quickly,” Rebecca admonished. “And don’t you make that face at me, Luke Bassett. Undoubtedly you wish Jeremy was bringing home roasts or pies, but you
should be grateful for the food you have.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said and forced down the rest of the eggs quickly, saving the crust of bread for last. That was at least something he could chew on the way to school.
As soon as he had finished, his mother handed him his jacket and school books and ushered him out the door. They stepped out the front door to a brightening spring morning. There was a refreshing chill breeze and Luke could hear the chirp of birds.
“Blasted birds again,” his mother grunted. She retrieved a broom and headed towards the framework of wooden beams and rafters that Luke’s stepfather called, ‘The Unfinished Wing’.
Jeremy had big plans for expanding their small home, often bragging about the fine additions he would make. He had started over a year ago, using lumber left over from several local building projects he had been in charge of. He claimed that, once it was done, his family would have a house as fine as any other in town. But once the big jobs had dried up, his side project had languished. For now, the ‘Unfinished Wing’ stuck out from the side of the house like a sad skeleton.
Rebecca approached a tangle of grass and twigs in the corner of one of the joists and used the bristled end of the broom to shoo the two busy birds away. She then flipped the broom around and used the handle to knock their half-finished nest to the ground. She stomped on it, then kicked it into a nearby puddle.
“There! Let that teach them to stay gone this time,” Rebecca said, then turned and marched away.
Luke stared at the soaking remains of the birds’ hard work for a moment, then hurried after her, his stomach in knots. She was in a harsh mood this morning.
Their house was just outside of town and a ten-minute walk to the schoolhouse. Rebecca walked with purposeful strides. Luke walked fast to keep in step with her, his fists thrust into his jacket pockets. He knew that if he was going to speak to her he needed to do it before they arrived at the school. Once there, she would have no conversation. She would put him to work and he wouldn’t have a chance to bring it up again until dinner time.
Rebecca glanced back at him and misinterpreted the look on his face. “Do you think I was harsh to those birds, Luke?”
“Huh?” He shrugged. “Well, I guess they weren’t hurting nobody.”
“Anybody,” Rebecca corrected. “And what do you think would have happened if I had left them alone?”
“I don’t know.” This was not the discussion he was looking to have. “Finished their nest?”
“Exactly. They would have finished their nest. Then laid eggs. The eggs would hatch and we’d have baby birds chirping up there in the unfinished wing,” she said as if that explained everything.
He wrinkled his nose. “So?”
She raised an eyebrow at his tone. “So, when it came time for Jeremy to finish his roof, he would have to get rid of the nest. Baby birds can’t live when their nest is destroyed. Their parents abandon them. So what is crueler? Destroy their nest now or kill their babies later?”
“I guess you’re right,” Luke said.
“You guess?” She frowned. “People belong in houses, Luke. Birds belong in trees. There is a natural order to things and when we stray from that, the consequences are never pleasant.”
“Yes, mother,” Luke said quickly. She was getting worked up and that did not bode well.
He was quiet for the next several minutes to let her cool down. Then the large tree that stood in front of the schoolhouse came into view and he couldn’t delay anymore. Licking his lips, he blurted out, “Mother, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?” She didn’t slow down. “What on earth do you have to be afraid of?”
“Well, when I woke up last night, I . . .” He planned to describe exactly what he had seen, tell her the details, but all that came out was, “There was someone by my bed.”
Rebecca stopped walking and turned to face him. Her expression was pensive. “A person entered our home last night? Did you forget to bar the door before you went to sleep?”
He should have known that would be her first question. Luke shook his head. “No, mother. I’m pretty sure it was barred, but it wasn’t just a normal per-.”
“Pretty sure it was barred? You must have forgotten. How else would someone get in?” She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything being out of place, though I don’t know what we have that anyone would want to steal.” Her calculating eyes looked him over. “You seem unharmed. This person didn’t try to hurt you, did he?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” he said. “But-.”
“You don’t know?” she scoffed.
“It tried to grab me but I hid under the blankets until it went away.”
Her eyes widened. “Well, why didn’t you shout out, young man? How are your stepfather or I supposed to help if you stay quiet?”
“Look, it wasn’t just a person!” he said and added quickly before she could interrupt again, “It was something else! Something evil!”
She froze. “Evil?”
The mixed glimmer of anger and fear that entered her eyes made him immediately regret his choice of words, but he forced himself to press on. “I-I think it was the Devil.”
She raised one hand to her chest. “Nonsense. The Devil cannot come into my house. The pastor blessed it himself. No, the only way evil could get in is if it were invited.” She paused a moment and an accusing tone entered her voice. “Did you invite evil into my home, Luke?”
“No!” Luke protested. He wouldn’t have known how to do such a thing if he wanted to. “I was just asleep. I woke up and it was there. Then I hid and it was gone.”
Slowly, her hand moved up from her chest to tug at her bottom lip, a gesture he had only seen her make a handful of times. Her voice trembling, Rebecca asked, “This thing you saw . . . Did it have glowing eyes?”
How had she known that? Luke opened his mouth to tell her yes, but the look of anticipatory terror on her normally stern face stopped him. Unbidden, a lie formed on his lips. “Uh, no. No. Its eyes were normal, I think. But it was scary.”
She let out the breath she was holding in and her fear faded. Her hand dropped to her side. “Then think about this rationally, Luke. Isn’t the most likely explanation that this visitation of yours was only a dream?”
Luke winced. He wanted to deny that possibility, tell her about the vividness of it, the smell of the cigar smoke, the thickness of the air, but he knew he would get nowhere. He sighed. “I guess you’re right. Just a dream.”
Rebecca nodded curtly. “There is no guessing about it. Children have frightening dreams. That is to be expected. Now, come along. We have work to do.”
On trembling legs, Luke followed her past the trio of rope swings that hung from the tree’s thick branches and up the short stairs to the schoolhouse door. He was relieved that none of the other children had arrived yet. He didn’t feel like faking a smile. The conversation with his mother could have been worse, but it hadn’t gone well either. Nothing had been resolved.
Rebecca opened the door and ushered Luke inside. The one-room schoolhouse was a squat building with a small steeple where the school bell had been installed. Inside were five rows of benches for the students to sit on and Luke’s stepfather had built long narrow tables in front of each bench where the students could place their books and slates.
Together, they began preparing for the school day. While his mother retrieved books and papers from the supply cabinet, Luke retrieved water from the well and set to cleaning all the children’s writing slates. It wasn’t long before he heard the chatter of the other students arriving outside. Once his mother had finished setting out their books, she rang the bell and opened the front door.
The town’s children began streaming in and taking their seats. Predictably, Tom and Sandy didn’t enter until the last possible moment. The two of them came in just before Rebecca rang the tardy bell. They looked like an odd pair to be friends. Sandy was ten-years-old and tall for his age, with light brown hair and dressed in modest but
clean clothing, while Tom was just eight and short with black hair, dark complexion, and wearing trousers that had been patched multiple times.
They gave Luke smiles brimming with excitement as they took their customary seats on opposite ends of the room. Luke gave the two of them exasperated looks in return. He wanted nothing more than to walk over and talk to them at that moment, but his mother would not allow it. Rebecca had learned early on that it was a bad idea to let the three boys sit together. To avoid putting up with their constant snickering and messing about, she had assigned them seats as far from each other as the small room allowed.
The school day crept by. Most school days did, but today was worse. Rebecca taught children of all ages and intelligence level and since Luke was ahead of most of the other students, it was his job to help them with their work. He wasn’t supposed to talk to his friends while helping, but he managed to creep over to Tom when his mother wasn’t looking.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” Luke whispered.
“Me too!” Tom replied, a little too loud in his excitement.
Luke’s mother’s head turned in his direction and shot him a stern glance. Luke was forced to retreat. “After school,” he added quickly and retreated to the side of an eight-year-old girl who needed help with her spelling.
When Rebecca finally released the students to go home, Luke was the last one to leave. It was his job to make sure that the rest of the students had put away their books and slates properly. He finished as fast as he could. Then, while his mother was occupied, he darted out the door.
Luke’s two friends were waiting for him next to the big tree. They were arguing about something. Sandy standing with his arms crossed while Tom swung around, one leg hooked through the loop in the rope swing. A bit of the gloom left Luke’s mind as he approached, eager to tell them what had happened. Surely, they would understand.
Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western Page 18
