“You will take care of the animals out in the barn in the morning then come back and clean up this place. I expect supper to be ready by the time I sit my ass in this chair. Got it, boy?”
I nod while trying to shove spoonfuls of stew into my mouth as quickly as possible so that I don’t get sent to bed hungry.
“And just remember, the nearest neighbor is too far away to hear if I shoot you,” Mister Christian says, pointing his spoon at me.
I look at his spoon because I can’t bring myself to look right at him. I nod slowly, trying to slink back into the chair. I swallow hard and it almost hurts. His spoon waves at me a few times to make his point.
Mister Jacob raps Mister Christian on the knuckles with his spoon then points it at him accusingly. “What my brother means, is that we don’t live close to town. So we don’t get visitors much. It also means we may go off to town at times and we don’t need you running off. There is too much land for you to get lost in.”
Supper goes by slowly after that. Once I finish my stew Mister Jacob grabs my bowl and stacks it up in Mister Christian’s. They glare at one another, having a silent argument until Mister Christian gets up and takes the dishes into the kitchen.
Mister Jacob then taps me on the shoulder and nods his head towards a rickety staircase that goes up into darkness. I follow him to the base. He hands me a small lantern and lights it.
“You’ll sleep up there tonight. There’s a blanket and pillow up there on a cot and a change of clothes. It’s not much, but for tonight it will do.”
He watches me go upstairs. Once I get to the top I hear him wander off. I look around the tiny room and really it is just filled with crates and trunks that are covered in thick layers of dust. I can see the moonlight seeping in from between the planks on the roof.
The cot is sitting almost in the center with a crate next to it as a night stand. On top of that is a simple pair of breeches and a cotton shirt. I sit down on the bed and almost sink down into it with no possible way to escape.
Chapter 3
Somehow I fell asleep on that rickety, creaking cot. I only know that because I woke up to the sound of the raspy crow of that old rooster. Through the holes in the roof I can see the sky just barely being touched by the sun. I guess even though that cock is old, he’s still reliable.
I have to do good by them if I am going to keep myself from being beaten. Ma told me that is what they do. They buy us little black boys so they can work us to the bone and beat us when they’re bored. This always makes me question just how free our freedom is.
Mister Christian told me I have to take care of the animals, clean the house, and make supper. I guess that means I will start with the animals. They need to be cared for quite a bit from what I saw yesterday.
I get up and put on some clean clothes. I have no idea if everything I need will be in the barn or not. When I get downstairs, Mister Christian is already up and awake on the porch. Mister Jacob has left with one of the horses. As I head out towards the barn, I can feel Mister Christian watching me. His eyes are cold and piercing on me.
As I approach the fence of the pen the cow comes walking up with the bell around its neck dinging with each step. It sticks its head between the rails of the fence and tries to lick me with its long purple tongue. I pat it on the head and climb over the fence.
The cow follows me into the barn and tries to lick me again as I climb over the inside fence to get into the main part of the barn. I pat it on the head once more before looking around and trying to get my bearings.
There is a ladder that leads up to the hay loft that has plenty of hay. Looking around it seems like these animals haven’t really been taken care of. Like they were purchased because they got themselves a ranch and not because they needed or wanted them. They have been fed but not as much or as often as they should.
I climb up the ladder and start pulling down hay. The cow watches me and moos loudly. At times I think the cow is going to burst through the fence, it is screaming so loudly. As soon as my feet touch the floor again I run over to the cow and dump an armful of hay in front of it. The cow immediately starts eating the hay and seems like the happiest beast ever.
Soon I see the skinny chickens strutting out of their coop. I look around trying to find some chicken feed. There are crates piled up near the back of the barn so I run over and try to pry them open. After prying about three open, I realize that they probably have had these animals for a long time but haven’t really cared for them. There are so many crates of feed that have been left unopened.
I start wondering if they bought me just to take care of the animals. Am I just a more self-sufficient animals to them? Like a horse that can also cook supper? I guess that is not so bad. Although they are thin, the animals don’t look beaten.
The fourth crate I pry open contains the sacks of feed I was searching for. I pull out a large sack of chicken feed and heft it over to the gathering chickens. The rooster has wandered in and seems almost unaware of what is going on.
I pour out a small mound of feed and the chickens ravenously dig in. The rooster wanders around them a few times before realizing what is going on. Then he crows, flaps his wings, and almost dives into the mound of feed.
Off to one side are the stalls for the horses. The stalls themselves are clean but the horses are still a bit unkempt. I look around in search of brushes for the one horse that is in the barn for the day.
It takes me quite a while to come to the realization that there are no brushes for either the horses or their saddles, no picks for their hooves, and not even blocks of salt for them to lick. I want to ask if there is a brush somewhere I can use, but I’m left here with Mister Christian. I don’t want to ask Mister Christian.
After a long while of searching through the barn for anything that I could use as a brush, I give up and just use my fingers. I stand next to the horse who seems to be watching me out of the corner of his eye.
I extend my hands and curl my fingers, letting just my nails and the tips touch his side. Then I slowly rake my hands down him. He watches me for a moment then begins leaning into me. He keeps leaning. My back is up against the side of the stall and my wrists are almost against my chest.
I don’t have many options. I can be squished by this horse who seems to be enjoying himself, or I can stop and hope he doesn’t get mad. I don’t want to be squished.
I pull my hands back and hear him snort in a derisive way. He shakes his head and steps away from me. After I am sure that I can safely move, I walk around to the other side and repeat my actions until I have to stop or be squished.
It takes me a few hours to feed the animals and get to know them. The chickens, although very motivated by the feed in my hands, will not approach me in the least. They just stare like chickens do and cluck as though asking me to just set down their food. The cow seems happy to have fresh hay and someone to sort of brush it. The horse is the same way.
I start to leave and just barely remember that they don’t have water. I find their buckets and take them over to the pump. Mister Christian is still on the porch, watching me. He watches as I fill each bucket and take it back into the barn.
I get the last bucket filled and take it into the barn. I set it down by the horse who immediately starts to gulp it down. I pat the horse on the head and tell it that I will take care of it. I know it won’t respond to me, but I feel better knowing I said it.
It is at least midday and I haven’t even started on the house. If I want to make supper on time, I better get started. I run towards the barn doors and swing them open to find Mister Christian standing right on the other side of them.
He stares at me and I freeze in my tracks. He looks around and walks inside the barn. I don’t know if I should stay or go. He is over by the horse and it looks like he is examining it. I take the opportunity to run back into the house to start cleaning.
When I get there I stand in the living room, unsure where to even start. Do I just sweep up the dust? Should I even w
orry about the holes in the roof or the walls? Do I scrub the floors?
I figure I should start somewhere and head into the kitchen to find the broom closet. Inside are a derelict broom, wash bucket, and moldering mop. I choke on the stench and decide that cleaning the cleaning supplies was the first task.
After getting the broom to a usable state, I start sweeping. I tie a shirt around my nose and mouth like Ma taught me so I don’t breathe in all the dust. Then I take out all the rugs and try to find decent places to hang them so I can beat them out. There is no line so I find some low hanging branches and hang them there.
It takes me a little while to find the beater and even longer to beat out the first rug. It is clear that these have never been beaten out even though they own the beater. After beating out the second rug I look like I rolled around in a pile of ash. I am covered in dust.
It takes so long to beat these rugs out that I fear I won’t have time to cook a proper supper. I take the rugs back inside, one by one, and put them back. I notice the clear color difference on the floor where each rug had been, and where it has not been. On the one hand it makes it really easy to match up the right rugs and line them up right. On the other, I’ll have to clean that.
Once I can get to the kitchen the piles of dishes remind me of their presence. I grab the wash bucket from the broom closet and run out to the pump to fill it. Then I bring it back in and start to get the piles taken care of. I start washing the dishes I will need to make supper and serve it then I get the rest in order to be taken care of.
Once the cooking dishes are as spotless as I can get them I set up to make supper. Ma taught me how to make a good cornbread so I rummage through the cupboards and barrels until I find everything to make it. Then I remember that I have to get the stove lit. I open the door and there is plenty of wood.
It takes a few minutes to locate a starter. Once I do, I get that fire lit quickly and throw the bread tin in the oven. I try to think of what else I can make. Cornbread is not a proper supper. After searching around I manage to find some potatoes, a decent cut of beef, and a few carrots.
I get the beef prepared and throw it in the oven to roast. Then I peel and cut the potatoes and throw them in a pot to boil. I do the same with the carrots. I give the range a good once over and go back to the piles of dishes.
The sun is starting to go down so I don’t have much longer left until Mister Christian and Mister Jacob are ready for their supper. I am down to the final pile of dishes and I can barely believe it. I get into a rhythm of scrubbing and rinsing.
Then I start to smell something off. I wince, knowing just what it is. While I was washing the dishes I had forgotten to finish up with the potatoes and the carrots. I turn back and the lids of both pots are seeping black smoke, as are the corners of the oven door. I wrap a rag around my hand and pull off the lid to the potatoes.
A billowing black cloud of smoke races up out of the pot like a ghost escaping the grave. I peer inside and at the bottom of the pot are shriveled up husks of what used to be chunks of potato. Inside the other pot, the blackened bits have a bit of orange left on them.
I take a deep breath and open the oven. Smoke billows out of it as well. I pull the bread tin out and it is ruined. The top is black and hard like charcoal. I pull the roast out and there are still some bits of meat in there but most of it has charred to a crisp. The rest is surely dry as the bones it had clung to.
I burnt their supper. They won’t have anything on the table when they sit down to eat. I start to panic. Sweat drips down my forehead and my knees begin to shake. I know they will surely beat me for not only being late with their supper but also wasting their food by burning it. Especially since I burned the meat. Meat costs more than a bag of potatoes.
Tears start running down my face while I try to think of what to do. Then I faintly hear the sound of hoof beats getting closer. I hear Mister Christian greeting Mister Jacob outside. Oh, no. What do I do? Mister Jacob is home.
I look all around the kitchen trying to find a solution to this mess but I can’t think of anything. I have a burnt bread in one hand and a pot lid in the other, scrambling around the kitchen trying to find a remedy.
Maybe I can just chop up some carrots and more potatoes. Maybe I can run out to the barn, grab some chicken feed, and make that edible. I make a few laps around the kitchen in my panic and end up back in front of the range.
My chest is heaving with every shaky breath as the tears stream down my face. I know they are going to beat me now. I ruined their supper. This is my first day here and I have already screwed up this bad.
I hear the front door open and their heavy footsteps come closer. I bite my lip to keep from sobbing. My hands are shaking and my knees are knocking together. I close my eyes and wait for them.
The second they step foot inside the kitchen, the hairs on the back of my neck stand and I can feel their burning gaze upon my back.
Chapter 4
I stand there facing the range and dare not turn around. I know they are mad. They have not said a word. I hear one of them approaching and I clench my eyes harder, getting ready for the first of many hits to come.
“Well, I guess you’re not getting that roast,” Mister Jacob says to Mister Christian. He is standing next to me and from what he said I figure he has already looked over the burnt mess I left out on the range.
I hear Mister Christian approach. He is on the other side of me. I feel my hand holding the tin get pushed down as though one of them was poking the loaf of coal.
Then I hear the most unexpected sound; laughter. The two of them start laughing hysterically. Mister Jacob pats me on the back and I am forced to open my eyes. My shaking is suddenly stopped and overpowered by utter confusion.
Mister Christian starts pulling the cookware off the range and bringing it to the now usable wash basin on the counter. Mister Jacob goes back into the pantry and rummages through it until he has found what he wants. I just stand there watching them, still unsure what to do and still holding the lid and loaf tin.
“Gin, come help me with these,” Mister Jacob says, holding out a small knife and a potato.
I set the lid and tin on the range. Mister Christian looks back at me, glances at the range then back up at me. I grab them off the range and bring them to the wash basin. Beneath his thick mustache and beard I can see the faintest twinge of a smile on the corners of his lips.
I slowly approach Mister Jacob and take the knife and potato. He starts peeling the potato in his hand. I join him and look over at Mister Christian who is scrubbing the burnt on root vegetables out of the pots. I am so confused that I can’t even bring myself to ask what is going on.
Mister Christian and Mister Jacob cook up some hearty vegetables and Mister Jacob asks me to remake that cornbread. Just as I am finished mixing in the last ingredient, Mister Christian hands me the washed tin. I get the tin in the oven and we all sit in the kitchen, waiting.
Mister Jacob leans in the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. Mister Christian leans against the wall looking around at the kitchen as though admiring the cleanliness of it all. I look over each of them trying to better understand them.
“We don’t want you staying up in that cold room for long,” Mister Christian begins. “You’ll have to make up a schedule for staying in our rooms.”
I swallow hard, unsure how to take that. Should I be appreciative that he doesn’t want me up in that cold, drafty room? Or should I be scared that he asking me to stay in their rooms? I want to question everything but I keep my mouth shut. Surely they are just waiting to hit me. I can’t be given that much leeway.
The food is done and pulled off the heat. Mister Jacob and I get the food on plates while Mister Christian sets up the oven for the evening. Once the plates are made, they head out to the porch to enjoy the meal.
I set my plate on the table and start to sit when Mister Jacob asks me to join them on the porch. I am nervous about joining them but I can’t refu
se. I bring my plate out and sit on the steps nearby while they sit in their chairs.
Supper is quiet as we eat. I can hear crickets chirping in the distance. Occasionally the chickens cluck loud enough to be heard over here. As I sit there, I almost forget that I’m not home with Ma and Pa. Granted home was never this quiet. Ma and Pa argued a lot. And really home was never a home to me. Ma scolded me often about my wanderlust.
Mister Christian quickly brings me back to reality by mentioning the schedule again. He starts insisting that I choose for tonight as well. Jacob tries to counter him a few times by saying that I don’t have to sleep with either of them until I am ready.
I almost choke on my cornbread when he says that. He must mean that I will be made to have sex with them. I don’t want that. There aren’t many girls out on the tracks so I didn’t have many options. Really I have never even seen a woman, let alone another man, naked. I know we all got the same stuff but it is different.
Seeing someone in the shower or getting dressed is different from seeing someone when being intimate. So I guess I have seen other men naked, but not in this way. At least not in the way I think they mean.
Besides, they are men. I don’t like men. Ma and Pa always told me that they would find me a nice girl to settle down with. They always told me that I would have to father them some grandkids someday. I may not know much, but I know that two men cannot make a baby.
As we near the end of the meal, Mister Christian gets more and more persistent. I finish my plate and take theirs into kitchen. I hope to use cleaning the dishes as a stalling tactic. They follow me and watch me from the doorway.
I finish the dishes and when I turn around, they are both staring me.
“Well, boy. What is it?” Mister Christian asks.
“Mister Jacob!” I yell out in a trembling voice. I am afraid that Mister Jacob may want me to touch him, or even want to touch me. But I am more comfortable with him than the thought of being alone in a room with Mister Christian.
To Love A Hitman Page 23
