I feel hands circle my waist and linger before they lift me up into my saddle. I was daydreaming and I didn't hear him approach me. His hands leave me too soon. Jude is already walking away. I watch his strong back hoping he will turn around for me. He does but only for a second. He pushes his hair back but it flops into his face again. His hair looks soft and moves when he does. It isn't proper but who’s going to make him cut it? No one that's who. I wouldn't want him to. I love his hair. The girls in town loved touching his hair. They said he looks like a movie star. Jude never cared about looking like a movie star. He just wanted to get laid. He wasn't funny about religion or reputation either. If she was pretty, clean, and fun to be around, he would screw her. Who was going to stop him? No one that’s who.
“Are you coming?”
I look up and realize everyone else has already ridden off except him. Jude has a child in front and a child in back as he rides past me. I kick my horse into a gallop. He waits for me and I ride beside him.
“Just so you know, you don't have to worry about me and her.”
“You are a man. I can't tell you what to do.” I say quietly so that only he can hear me.
“I thought I was your man.”
“I hope you are.” I hope so with all my heart.
“The first preacher we come across, I’ll make it official.”
“The church won't like it. Father won't like it and he'll hurt my mother.”
“Dumani, we’ll worry about that later. I want you. I want to make love to you. I can't put my dick inside of you unmarried.”
“You laid with other girls. You weren't married to them, Judea.” He has such a dirty mouth.
“Come on, Duma. You aren’t like those girls. You know that. I love you.”
“Men left the church to marry commoners.” I remind him.
“Men left the church to be junkies and drunks.” He scoffs. “They always come back begging for forgiveness and begging for church wives.”
He isn't lying. They always come back. I hide my laugh behind my hand. Buck Williams turns his head when he hears the sound. I am not behaving like a woman of the church. The look he gives me makes me feel like the pit under the outhouse. I lower my head and close my mouth. My sisters were so perfect. They never disobeyed or laughed out loud. They never looked men in the eye or spoke unless spoken to. They never watched YouTube with Jude Hamilton. They were obedient, subservient, and never ever got the cane. Father was already receiving offers for golden-skinned, Hannah by the time she was five years old. Most men wanted her for their young sons. A few were willing to wait a dozen years to have her for themselves. No one offered for me. Who would've imagined the preacher’s son would choose me to be his first wife?
Being the first wife is the highest honor a woman can achieve. We all want to be the first wife. The first wife is a man's first choice. The woman that he desires and has affection for. Sometimes, the first wife keeps his affection forever. Sometimes, one of the other wives steals his heart away from them all, the way Father's third wife did. He had the first two for five years before God blessed him with a pretty virgin. Caroline was a troublemaker on her Father’s farm and he was eager to get rid of her. She had a reputation for not following orders and being useless like my sister Hannah. The men of the church called her lazy when Father wasn’t around. Pretty doesn't mean anything if a woman is lazy. Lazy women have no place on a farm except in bed. Father was desperate and she was lovely. He made us pray for a new wife every day. I don't know if it was God or the devil who sent Caroline, but she wormed her way into Father’s heart right away. I overheard the first wife and my mother once say that it was because of the wicked things they'd seen her doing in bed. Things they wouldn't do themselves or risk the fires of hell. Whatever she did has Father riding a horse 5,000 miles in total to bring her home. Whatever it was, they should have done it too. If I find out what those ungodly things are, I will do them myself. Getting into heaven is a far-off dream for me. I am no longer assured a place. Not after the sins I’ve committed. Loving and pleasing my husband will be heaven on earth. I want Judea to come for me if I get stranded somewhere.
Chapter Ten
Clouds the color of stainless steel roll across the sky like the waves of a silver ocean. A rumble of thunder shakes the ground like a stampede. We pick up the pace. Seeing Jude holding the strange children makes my womb feel empty. He will be a good Father one day. What if I can’t give him children? I’m twenty-four years old. I am way behind the other women. I should already be a mother. A gust of wind threatens to push me off my horse. We aren’t going to make it. The first drops of rain are fat and ice cold. They fall in slow, lazy, plops like they are in no hurry to reach the tainted ground. They fall like icy tears pelting everything I see. It speeds up with each passing second. The wind howls in response. We are in tornado country. My horse is skittish and starts to side step. A hand reaches over and takes the reigns from me. My mare follows the big stallion and calms down some. After ten minutes my visibility is down to zero but Jude is able and he is brave. Father turns on a flashlight as a beacon to keep us all together. Just when I think I can get no colder or wetter, we reach the deserted house. It’s my job to tend to the horses. I don’t want to.
“Take the children and go inside.” Jude says handing them down to me. I put the little girl on my hip and take the boy by the hand. His mother comes over and scoops him up and we run up onto the old porch. The door opens with a turn of the knob. Whoever lived here is still here and they are very dead. I can smell the faint scent of decay coming from somewhere. They’ve been dead for a while. If this was a smaller, averaged size house, it would be rank. This was probably once a very stately mansion that belonged to sadist slave owners.
The children are shivering and the woman looks lost. I walk over to the big fireplace and lay a fire. The wood is covered with a layer of dust but it will burn just fine. I look around for matches or a lighter. There is none to be had. The place has been thoroughly looted for its resources. That is okay, I have flint in my bag outside. I kneel beside the cold fireplace staring into it deep in thought. I am thinking about what that man said about the government looking for people who didn't get sick. People like me. I don't want to be a hero and save the world. I want to go home to New York. I don't want to be experimented on. I want to stay with Jude. A wooden match strikes and it's tossed over my shoulder into the pile of wood, paper, and kindling. It catches with a warm whoosh. I turn my head and catch the object of my affection walking away. He is always here. Always looking out for me.
The men spread out to check the house for hidden dangers. I sit beside the fire warming myself. The other women find spots around me.
“Clean this place up and get dinner going, Duma. These folks are tired and hungry.” Joseph says holding his hands out toward the flames. I am still shivering and wet when I stand up and walk away from the warmth of the fire. None of the other women were sent to work, only me. They are dainty women and I am the work horse. I snoop around until I find the kitchen. It’s not modern but whoever lived here, took care of their old things. They loved their home. It has probably been in their family for generations of slavery. I can almost see the hundreds of black faces out there in the vast fields bent over under the blazing sun and sweating in the oppressive heat as they picked puffs of snowy white cotton. I can see the light-skinned kitchen maids cooking over the old wood burning stove in the corner and turning meat in the big fireplace against the far wall. A few mulatto boys would be standing on the wide porch waving big fans and serving sun tea to their fat, lazy, owners. The history of America is as ugly as ugly gets. The rusted wood stove that the poor slaves cooked on has sat obsolete as a decorative reminder of the disgusting but cherished past. A flick of the light switch tells me that it will be coming out of retirement. I will be slaving over it for the duration of our stay.
A bolt of lightning claps close to the ground outside. The thunder that follows rumbles like an army of troops riding i
nto battle. The storm is growing stronger. I get a chill from the wind coming in through the cracks and crannies of the drafty old house. I lay another fire in here and find a single match on the dusty floor. I strike it on the brick hearth and toss it into the kindling. The cast iron pot hanging in the fireplace is a throwback from the old days. There is one bright side. The water works. It's cold but it's clear. I use a bucket to fill the pot halfway. The pantry is bare. Nothing left but dusty bottles of herbs and spices. I dump some basil and dried onions into the pot. I put another kettle of water on to heat for coffee and cleaning. I jump when the kitchen door is kicked open.
“Drop the Goddamn broom.” Jude looks pissed. I don't argue with him. He takes my hand pulling me out into the warm living room. Everyone looks up at us.
“Duma isn't your damn servant! There are five able bodied women here who can see to the cleaning of this place. She isn't cooking and cleaning. The rest of you can get up and help or go hungry.”
“My girls don't clean, their mother did all of that for us. They are scared and tired.”
“Red, they aren’t children. It's time they learn to fend for themselves. They can earn their keep or keep it moving. Rena, you and Gordon's wife can start cleaning bedrooms for everyone. The men sleep on the same floor. You girls go into the kitchen and start scrubbing.”
“Who are you to give orders to our women? My wife needs something to eat and rest. She isn't cleaning anything.”
“We are all tired. We are all hungry. We all do our part. My daughter isn't slaving for your worthless asses. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all go to bed. Each man is on watch for three hours tonight. Tomorrow we hunt. There are two bodies rotting to bones in a second-floor bedroom. Buck, take Gordon and Red and get them out of there. You can wrap them in the plastic on the bed. Thank God for that plastic or there would be corpse juice seeped into the floor.”
“Why do we have to move them? I have a weak stomach.”
“Your weak stomach is going to be outside in the rain if you don't do what I say, stranger. Get them out of there, now.”
“How old are you, girl?” Father asks Red's oldest daughter.
“Sixteen.” She answers.
“Sandy is still a child, why?”
“She’s old enough to help.”
“I don't want to.” The girl cries hugging her mother.
“If you don't help, you don't eat. We don't take on freeloaders and dead weight.” Buck says standing up walking toward the stairs to tackle the issue of the dead bodies. The two men grudgingly follow him.
“Joe, go outside and carry in the bags.” Father instructs.
“That’s women's work. Duma can carry them in.”
“Carry the bags or help carry the bodies, your choice.”
“I'll get the bags.”
“Me and Jude will tend the horses. After you bring in the bags, carry in more wood.”
Father is a natural leader. Jude is higher on the food chain than any of us. We all know it. He is respectful enough to step back and let my older and more experienced Father lead us. Until the time comes when he thinks Father is putting us in jeopardy. I throw some pieces of the pig into the pot with a few pounds of beans. I add a little salt for taste. The two girls are washing down the wooden countertops. I go back to sweeping the floor. The looters left the cleaning supplies. I have the kitchen clean and smelling good in under an hour. The bodies were carried down the servant’s stairs and the mattress afterward. The smell leaves with them. The storm rages outside and we are calm inside. I’m standing near the fire stirring my pot and daydreaming again when I feel a body press close behind me. I jump away dropping my spoon in the process. Buck chuckles as he approaches me again. What should I do? Kill him?
“Don't act like you’re some innocent. I saw you with the preacher’s son. He ain't your husband and you let him touch you. You’re gonna let me touch you too. Come over here and give Buck a kiss.”
I’m not supposed to refuse an elder. Despite the sickness in my stomach I remain still. Then, I remember what Jude told me. Do not let another man touch you. Kick his ass.
“No.” I back away.
“Those other women are worthless. They don't know nothing about pleasing a man like me. Even with that cut up face, I'd still choose you. A man needs a woman who can get things done.” He says reaching for me again. I jump out of the way. Buck lunges at me and grabs me by the neck of my dress. It tears with a ripping sound.
“What in the hell do you think you are doing? Get away from her.” Gordon says stomping over and pulling me out of Buck's grip before I can gut him. I wipe angry tears from my cheeks.
“This is none of your business, stranger.” Buck warns.
“Anytime I see a man forcing a woman, I make it my business. That boy will kill you for this. Shadrach! Shadrach Dare! Come quick!”
Father and Jude come running into the kitchen to see what the fuss is about.
“What's going on, Buck?”
“I caught him trying to rape your daughter. He laughed about it.”
“You, son of a bitch!”
Father and Gordon grab Judea before he can jump on the older man. Buck grins.
“The law of the church says she's compromised. I have to marry her now.”
“You're damn straight you have to marry her!” Father yells angrily.
“He is not marrying Dumani! Not ever!” Jude is hostile.
“The bastard touched her. He has to marry her now. You are the preacher’s son you can't marry her after this.”
“The fucker is doing this because he caught us together and he wants her for himself. I compromised her years ago, Shadrach. We've seen each other naked. I pushed her down in the woods and I was on top of her when you came looking for her the night you caned her.”
I flush with shame. Oh, my God. He told on me. Father is breathing hard and I can hear his blood pressure rising. I look at Judea like he’s lost his mind. Because he has.
“Duma! Is this true? How long has this been going on?”
“I’ve been sneaking around with her since I was a boy.”
“Duma, answer me.”
I fall to my knees forehead on the floor in submission.
“Forgive me Father.” I don’t have the guts to say yes. I have shamed him in the worst way. He grows silent.
“If you don't want her around, we’ll leave. No one is hitting her and no is marrying her except for me.”
I pull out of Jude’s grasp when he tries to lift me up. I won’t move until Father tells me to.
“Get up, girl. Better Jude Hamilton than Buck Williams. He tried to trick me like a snake. I don't like being made a fool of. I especially don't like him touching you behind my back.”
The men move away from Buck. He’s on his own now. Buck is older, slower, and out of his prime. Jude is a fighter. Fist to fist. Toe to toe. A brawler. The big kitchen allows for room to execute a beautiful windmill kick that cracks the other man’s head and sends him down. Jude's cowboy boots have steel toes and I flinch every time they connect.
“I’m going to kill you, you son of a whore.” Jude says stomping on the man.
“That's enough. Let him up.”
“I warned him. I knew he was going to try some shit like this. He won't get another chance to touch my wife.”
“She isn't your wife and I’m not excusing what you did to my daughter, Hamilton. I knew you were up to no good. You said she was untouched. An honest man would’ve married her before he started using her like a wife.”
“I can marry them, I’m ordained.” Gordon Wright offers.
My heart pounds in my chest. Jude stops his kick in midair. He looks at me and our eyes hold. We can be married if he really wants me.
“You’re a priest?” Joe is skeptical.
“I got my certification online but it’s legal. I’ll marry them and write up a marriage certificate. You can serve as witnesses.”
“I don’t know. We aren’t Chri
stians. Our faith is our own.” My father is suspicious too.
“I’m not a Christian either. I claim no single religion.”
“Go and get your bible, man. What are you waiting for? A cure?” Jude snaps at him. Gordon jumps before he hurries away. Judea wipes his fancy black boots on Buck’s dirty shirt. The blood smears on the material like finger paint.
“Come here Dumani.” He reaches out his hand to me.
“I don't have a dress or nice shoes.” I look down at myself in disappointment. I don’t have anything better.
“Baby, you’re fine the way you are. I just want to be married to you.” Judea takes both of my hands in his. “A new dress isn’t going to make our wedding any more special to me, Duma.”
“I’m dirty and wet.”
I look down at my dress again. What kind of bride looks like this? I almost touch my scar again. I’m trying to break the habit. He tugs my scarf down under my chin revealing my face. I don’t look up. Judea pulls me close. I want to argue that there are people watching. I don’t care. He’s big and warm and he makes me feel safe.
“Dumani, you are beautiful. I've told you.” Jude whispers in my ear. “I don’t care about a cut or your fucking weight. I just want to love you. I want to be your husband.”
He kisses my bad cheek and cups the back of my covered head. I blink back tears and give myself over to the love burning inside of me right now. I find my strength in him. He is everything to me. Judea is my air and my water. I breathe him into my lungs and he pushes my heart to beat. I want to taste him on my tongue when I drink him down to quench my thirst for love. I want to be his wife. He knows it. He has always known it. I don’t have to say it.
The Doomsday Papers Page 10
