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The Whip

Page 6

by Kondazian, Karen


  At the stable, Miss Haden pushed Charlotte in front of her and through the doorway, soft lantern light seeping out as they entered.

  The horses munching, looked up.

  Jonas, the groom, looked up from the harness he was cleaning, quiet surprise in his dark eyes. A girl? Here at the stable, at night? Then Miss Haden loomed in…her right hand closing, talon-like, on the shoulder of the girl. She pushed her forward. The girl stumbled.

  Charlotte, entranced, had stopped to look all around.

  The horses were nickering and shifting their flanks…their hooves stamping on the resonant, straw-strewn floor. The groom, his coal black skin burnishing in the glow of the candle lamp, smiled at her. Multiple parentheses of wrinkles appeared around his eyes. He had salt-and-pepper hair cropped close.

  “Jonas,” said Miss Haden, “allow me to introduce you to your new stable boy.”

  Jonas regarded Charlotte with curious sympathy.

  Miss Haden glanced at the horses in their stalls. “Which of these creatures is most difficult to control?” she asked.

  “Why, ma’am,” responded Jonas without pause, his voice a soft even keel, “I’d have to say that’d be Beelzebub.”

  “Beelzebub,” she said, delighted at the name. “Where is he?”

  Jonas, who was used to swiftly sizing up horseflesh—their stance, their spirit, their nature; who had long ago assessed the headmistress, and was now already almost finished sizing up the girl, turned and indicated a fine looking black stallion. The horse appeared calm enough at the moment, but his eyes were feral and untrustworthy.

  “Yes. Perfect. Beelzebub, chief of the devils,” said Miss Haden. She turned to Charlotte. “Everything that goes into that horse, and everything that comes out is to be your responsibility. If he is difficult, if he disobeys…you, not he, are to be punished.”

  Charlotte could not take her eyes off the great black horse.

  “Now, I am nothing if not reasonable,” continued Miss Haden. “Be informed that you may return to us at any time, under condition that you deliver to me a profound and heartfelt apology for your unruly and disruptive behavior, and that you vow to dedicate yourself to the acquisition of the womanly arts.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Charlotte murmured, her eyes still transfixed on Beelzebub’s lustrous dark coat.

  Leaving Charlotte with the horses, Miss Haden walked out, inclining her head empress-like for Jonas to follow her. They stood outside.

  “Now Jonas, I expect you to do as I have instructed. Do not go easy on her. She is too stubborn, too rebellious, and too independent, for her own good. We must help her find her way.”

  “Yes’m,” said Jonas nodding.

  He was noticing something, a sound that wasn’t the wind, a tree branch, or the motion of an animal. He turned his eyes towards the sound without moving his head: he could just make out a shadow that didn’t belong. It might have been that of a boy or young man. It was stepping back into the woods. It was gone now. Miss Haden was still speaking.

  “Don’t be concerned,” she said, granting him a painful little crease of a smile. “She shan’t be with you more than a night or two. One taste of shoveling manure and she’ll be begging for a needle and thread.”

  “Yes’m,” said Jonas, inclining his head in outward agreement. Had Miss Haden been a reader of eyes, she’d have seen that he wasn’t so sure. In any case, Jonas was now looking over to where the shadow had been. He couldn’t see it now. He’d warn her anyway.

  “Ma’am, I…”

  “No complaints, Jonas. I trust that everything is clear and that there is no need for us to prolong this unpleasant conversation any longer. She is your responsibility. I am leaving her in your care, and I am leaving now.”

  “Yes’m, Miss Haden.”

  She swept off, pleased with her handling of it all.

  Inside the stable, Charlotte was walking around peering into the different stalls. It was so cozy in here she thought…the warm musky smell of horse and hay.

  Charlotte entered Beelzebub’s stall. Cautious, she approached him. She stood in front of the stallion, looking him in the eye. She raised her hand up toward his nose.

  “There now,” she said. “You’re not so mean, are you? Can I pet you?”

  The horse lunged his head down and nipped Charlotte’s hand hard.

  She cried out, falling backward into the hay.

  Jonas entered the stable, ran into the stall and kneeled down next to her. “Are you alright? What happened?”

  “He bit me,” said Charlotte, confused. She started to sob. And once she started she was unable to stop, her thin shoulders shuddering.

  He laid a gentle hand on her back and she winced in pain. He then noticed the tear in the back of her blouse and beneath it; he saw her back covered with angry purple welts. Jonas, who was past being shocked by anything other people did to the creatures in their care, knew what to do. He stroked her head comforting her, letting her weep.

  Unseen by either of them, Lee was standing in the shadows of the doorway, watching. Charlotte was laying her head on the groom’s chest. He was stroking her hair, murmuring something to her. She was sobbing in his arms. He was holding her close and she was letting him.

  In a furor of conflicting emotions Lee turned and ran away into the darkness.

  Jonas heard a sound and looked up, but seeing no one, he turned his attention back to Charlotte.

  “You will like it here, missy,” he said to her. The headmistress hadn’t even told him her name.

  Sixteen

  It was dawn of the following day. Charlotte was dressed in some of Jonas’ old clothes, a wrapping of bandage around her hand. She stood there for a moment watching Jonas, who was humming a soft tune as he brushed Beelzebub. With great care, she cut a wide berth around them, moving from stall to stall feeding the horses just as Jonas had instructed her. She finished with the last horse, placing the feed bucket down and touched her wounded hand, flinching. Seeing all of this out of the corner of his eye, Jonas stopped his work and went to her.

  “Alright now Charlotte, if you are going to be around horses you got to understand something. When a horse don’t know you yet, never stare ’em in the eye. And make sure when you offer your hand to a horse, it’s curled into a soft fist with your palm facing down. He led her over to Ginger, a good natured mare and demonstrated.

  “Why do you have to do that? she asked.

  “Otherwise, the horse might think your hand is a claw…that you are being aggressive towards her. That’s what old Beelzebub must have thought. That’s why he bit you. Horses are just looking for safety. If they feel safe, then you’re safe. When you approach them, you must be calm, always respectful and have the horse’s well-being in mind. They’re just like people.”

  Charlotte wanted to feel the mare’s soft coat. She closed her eyes to calm herself and thought of what Jonas had just said. She took a deep breath and began to pat Ginger’s neck.

  Jonas stopped her. “No, not that way Charlotte. Horses hate to be patted. What you need to do is rub on them firmly; stroke them following their hair. They like that.”

  Charlotte’s small hand copied Jonas’ strong stroking movement. The horse began licking and chewing.

  “There you go. Old Ginger’s relaxing. That’s how horses show they’re comfortable; they lick their mouths and chew.”

  Charlotte began to giggle, “It’s like she’s smiling, isn’t it?”

  How easy it was to make a horse smile Charlotte thought…to make them happy. Easier than people. She grabbed a handful of oats and held it up to Ginger. The horse nuzzled Charlotte when finished…pushing her lips against her with great eagerness, almost knocking her over.

  “Now what’s she trying to tell you, that mare?” asked Jonas.

  The horse’s mouth was still inspecting Charlotte’s hand. “Oh,
she wants more,” she said.

  She gave her another handful of feed and stood there breathing along with Ginger. The mare raised her head and smelled Charlotte breathe, her huge nostrils working like soft bellows.

  “See there. You’re doing right,” said Jonas. “You know, everything in God’s creation has a language, and its own ways. Animals, crops, people—even the stars in the sky—all of them, shouting out their secrets every minute to anyone got eyes to see and ears to hear with. Trick is you got to pay attention. It’s like, how can you tell if that dried up old prune of a headmistress is mad at you?”

  “Well…her lips go together in a straight line, and her eyes go kind of pink all around like a rabbit, and her nose, her nose goes out like this. And she starts her sniffing.” Charlotte imitated her as best she could.

  Jonas laughed. “You got it right, much as I know. I seen her look like that as well. Now, would you go up and give her a pat on the cheek if she looked at you like that?”

  “No.”

  Jonas nodded. “Well, that’s what you did with old Beelzebub last night. He was telling you plain as day he’s not no easy friend. You just couldn’t read the signs, because they was in horse.”

  “Can you teach me horse?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Some things can’t be taught. Some you have to be born with. And some of it Charlotte, is up to the horse.”

  So Charlotte stayed under Jonas’ tutelage—for a day, then a month, and another, and another, until a year had passed.

  She approached Beelzebub with trepidation at first—learning to read him, letting him read her, allowing her body to tell him she was his friend…that she was safe. Given both their histories, that took time.

  Seventeen

  Another Sunday morning and another church service Charlotte had been able to elude. Jonas came back from his church to find Charlotte brushing Beelzebub in his stall.

  “Hey missy. You didn’t go to church again this morning did you?”

  “Nope I didn’t. Much prefer the company of horses than Miss Haden and the stupid tattletale girls. Don’t believe in that stuff anyways.”

  “You don’t believe in God?”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t figure out who God is anyway. The minister says that he’s up there in the sky…looking down on us, taking care of us. I don’t believe him. Otherwise, Lee and I would have parents. And awful things wouldn’t happen…like Lee being tied to the tree. How come you believe in God?”

  “Well, I just do I guess. Always have…makes me feel safe. It’s called faith.”

  “Why did my mama leave me then? Was I bad? Was that God punishing me because I did something wrong?”

  “I don’t know why those things happen Charlotte…why your mama did what she did. That was a terrible thing. But I bet it didn’t have anything to do with you. She must not have felt like she had a choice. Everybody is just trying to do the best they can with what they got. I think God sometimes gives us trials and tribulations to see what we do with ’em. But I don’t believe for a second that God punishes you.”

  “Well maybe he doesn’t, but that’s what it feels like. I wish I could feel safe like you.”

  “You know Charlotte, God isn’t just up in the sky. He’s down here too. I see him in my horses. I see him in you. That’s what makes me feel safe.”

  Charlotte scrunched up her nose. “That’s funny. You see God in me? In Beelzebub? What about in old Miss Haden? Do you see God in her?

  Jonas chuckled. “Well, maybe not Miss Haden. But even when we don’t like someone, we gotta treat them with respect. With compassion. Humans and otherwise.”

  “I’ll never respect Miss Haden. Not ever.”

  “All comes down to treating people the way that you want to be treated. It’s the old do unto others…like the Bible says? Miss Haden doesn’t understand that. Maybe you will though someday…Come on now missy, guess you just got your church for today. Let’s wash up for lunch.”

  Eighteen

  Two years later Charlotte was still at the stable, waking in the cold mists of the morning, washing herself in the frigid water of the barrel, mucking out the stalls, exercising the horses, currying them, feeding them. She’d learned to ride. She could ride Beelzebub now; she could ride him with effortless grace—stallion and girl, one coursing creature.

  The horse had tested her and found in her a likely student of himself, and then with a delicacy and mystery, he’d instructed her. In the end there was a deep and wordless communion between them, borne out of a hard-won trust. Jonas saw it come to life out of nothing. He watched it. It deepened and widened and then swirled around the two of them so palpably that you had to stand back if you were not to be pulled into the powerful vortex of it.

  And Miss Haden? Any inkling of a thought about the boyish girl approaching and she willed her mind to go blank. Let her stay in the stable and sling the horse manure. If that’s what she wanted her life to be, then so be it. She was Jonas’s problem. The same could not be said of Lee…that wretched boy was still hanging around the main house. Headmaster Meade had inexplicably given him a job as handyman. She was sure that damn man gave him the job just to spite her.

  And Lee? Lee never stopped thinking of Charlotte. At seventeen his thoughts had been murky and sultry. At eighteen they grew precise. They grew urgent.

  One afternoon, Lee was leaning against the stable door, watching Charlotte ride up on Beelzebub.

  “Let me get on,” he said as she approached.

  “I don’t think so. You’ll get hurt.” She swung down in a dismount.

  Lee grabbed the reins from her.

  Beelzebub whinnied in protest, tossing his head.

  “No,” shouted Charlotte, grabbing the reins back. “Don’t pull on him like that. You’ll wreck his mouth.”

  “What do you know?”

  “A horse’s mouth is very sensitive, just like yours or mine.”

  They were standing very near each other. Lee leaned into Charlotte, his gaze traveling down the curve rising in the front of her shirt, then up to Charlotte’s lips. “Oh?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “You should always ride with more legs than hands. If you yank too hard on the bit it hurts him. He won’t feel the feel anymore. His mouth can get numb and pretty soon he’s no good because he won’t respond to the reins. ‘Cold mouth,’ is what Jonas calls it.”

  “Your mouth ain’t cold…is it?”

  “Stop it, Lee. I’m busy.”

  She stepped back. She could feel the rough stable wall behind her.

  “You weren’t too busy last week for it. Let me see if your mouth can follow the feel.”

  Lee stepped forward to kiss her. He was staring at her mouth as if hypnotized by it. Charlotte turned her head away and licked her lips. She saw its effect on him: a wild agitation that seemed to flicker all through his body. Curious to test her powers, she licked her lips again, slower this time. He seized hold of her wrists with a pincer grasp.

  “Charlotte,” he groaned.

  She tore her arms away from him. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

  Jonas heard Charlotte cry out. He appeared from inside the barn, taking it all in.

  “You come to help today, Lee?” he asked.

  “Nah.” Lee turned and shuffled away, pausing to give Charlotte one last quick glance over his shoulder. She met eyes with him and for a moment they stared at each other. Then he turned his head down, spat on the ground and left.

  Nineteen

  That night, Charlotte slept as she always did, with Beelzebub. She slept under a blanket on a small pile of hay in one corner of the stall. The stallion snorted from time to time. Under his lids his eyes were moving back and forth, back and forth. Charlotte’s sleep was also restless that night; something in her dreams of Lee kept not happening.

  Just short of
midnight she woke to the sound of a low melodious whistle nearby. She opened her eyes and saw light. Looking down at her over the front of the stall, grinning his lopsided grin, was Lee, lantern in hand. She realized at that moment that she was not surprised. Hadn’t she been waiting all night for him? Hadn’t she known he was coming?

  Awake now, Beelzebub’s nervous hooves started to dance towards Charlotte’s head.

  “Beelzebub,” she hissed. She rolled out of reach just in time to avoid being stepped on by the stallion. She let herself out of the stall.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Lee placed the lantern on the ground. She saw he had a small bundle with him, tied together with rope. He gave her a wan champion’s smile.

  “They finally kicked me out. No more work here. Let’s go,” he said.

  “Go? Where?”

  “Anywhere.”

  Charlotte slumped against the stall, her blanket wrapped around her.

  “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Didn’t I always take care of you?”

  “I can’t,” she said in a tiny voice. It had all just washed over her, the dreams she’d had, what she’d thought of doing with him.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t leave Jonas and Beelzebub and the horses,” she added.

  “Who the hell cares about them?”

  “I do. I’m not going to run away.”

  Lee turned around and punched the stall door hard with his hand. The stallion pinned his ears and whinnied. For a moment it looked as if Lee might hit Charlotte too. But instead the intensity drained from his face and was replaced by an icy casualness. He leaned in very close to her. “You owe me,” he said.

  He reached out his hand and pushed it under the blanket and touched her long nightshirt, an old man’s nightshirt, where one of her breasts strained against the fabric. At this he sucked in his breath. When he released it, it was a moan. “Oh, Char—”

  He took her shirt and ripped it all the way down the front. He put his hands on her naked body and began to knead her breasts.

 

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