“I can handle living on my own, Bruce,” Becky said in a low voice. He always made her feel so stupid. “I’m not a child anymore. Far from it.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leavin’. I had to give up my place on the outskirts of town to come back here to this house. You can’t venture out on your own because you got no skills, you got nothin’ a man would want. You might as well accept this is the best it’s gonna get for you.”
Becky turned away from him, shaking her head. “It’s pointless talking to you. You always think the worst thing is going to happen. I don’t want to let your negativity spoil my life anymore.”
“Your choices are limited, girlie,” Bruce said.
She was beginning to detest the term, “girlie”, which, at least right then, Bruce could not keep from saying with every sentence.
He chuckled darkly. “As in, you don’t have any. You’re stuck, girlie. Stuck here with me until I let you leave.”
Becky was not going to keep from crying. She bolted past him and dashed down the hallway to her room. She opened the door, flew through, and slammed it behind her. She ran to her bed and jumped on it, burying her face in the thick quilt. She pressed the fabric against her eyes, but they were stinging with tears that were coming out, whether she liked it or not.
Why did she let him hurt her so much? She reached toward the head of her bed, where her stuffed animals were lined up against her pillow. She had made each of them by hand. Her favorite was the tiger. He had four flexible legs that could be placed up on her shoulders as if he was giving her a hug.
She dragged the tiger down the quilt and pressed him against her chest. She cried into him, clutching him against her chest with all her might.
CHAPTER THREE
FLASHBACK
FLASHBACK
Becky didn’t typically fall asleep in the middle of the day, but her tattered emotions drained her of energy and she cried herself to sleep.
She dreamed of when she was much younger. She must have been around seven. Her older brother, at seventeen, had already started working. Though he was a rebel and had a reputation in town, he was well-liked in many circles and seemed happy. The dream played out like a memory. It was vivid, making her feel as though she had traveled back in time.
Bruce smiled as he took her hand. “Do you want to go to the town festival with me, pumpkin?” he asked, beaming at her. She was delighted, clapping her hands together. She turned to her mother.
“Mama, can I go? Can I go?”
Her mother smiled at her. “It’s ‘may’ I go and, of course, you may.” Mrs. Dupont closed the space between them and gave each a kiss on the top of their heads. “My girl is always safe in the hands of her older brother.”
“I won’t let her get hurt, you know I won’t, Mama,” Bruce turned his smile to his mother before tugging lightly on Becky’s hand. “Come on, pumpkin! Let’s go!”
Before she knew it, Becky was seated in front of her brother on his horse and they were headed into town. She was excited for the festival. She was sure there would be a friend of hers there. Wickenburg was a small town, but it was growing quickly. Several families had come, providing her with several children her own age to play with. Surely they would be there.
She chatted softly while they rode to Main Street. Bruce said nothing, answering with a series of yeahs and grunts to acknowledge he was listening.
When they reached the festival, he slid down and reached up for her, helping her down. He tied the horse to the hitching post and they walked through the gate into the park, where many people were gathered, milling about talking to each other. Some of the residents had set up booths and were selling various wares, baked goods, and other items one might find intriguing on a bright spring day.
“Do you want a cookie, Becky?” Bruce asked, squeezing her hand. She looked up at him, smiling and nodding. He grinned back. “What do you say?”
“I say… please.” She drew the word out and giggled.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right.” Bruce nodded. “Good girl. Okay, come on.”
He led the way to the nearby booth selling cookies and purchased a large sugar cookie. He handed it to her. “Here you go, pumpkin.”
“Thank you, Bruce!”
The sugar cookie practically melted in her mouth.
Before the afternoon was out and they were headed back, she managed to gather several sewing goods for knowing the answer to a mathematics quiz question (she would later come to realize the question was tailored to her age, so it was not a spectacular event like it was made out to be by Wickenburg residents), a small stuffed animal – her very first one – and two red balloons.
She was so happy as they left the festival, she could barely feel her face from smiling so much.
She talked about how exciting it had been all the way back. Again, Bruce didn’t speak. He let her talk and barely acknowledged he was listening.
She didn’t stop talking when they reached the house. She had to tell their parents all about the wonderful time she’d had with her brother. The family laughed together as she recounted the adventure she’d had.
Becky woke up wide awake and sat up in bed. She looked around, confused. She rarely took naps during the day. Waking up and seeing the sun still shining in the sky made her wonder if she had slept the whole night through and it was actually the next day. The thought gave her a weird feeling.
She slid out of bed and went to the window. The position of the sun gave her an indication it was late afternoon, probably around 3pm. Most definitely not early in the morning, as she had suspected. She breathed a sigh of relief.
It was unlikely Bruce would have let her sleep through dinner anyway. He would have come busting in and probably drag her out of bed by her hair. That sounded like something he would do to her.
She turned around, wondering where he had gone. She was somewhat surprised he had even let her sleep at all. When she stepped out into the living room and glanced around the silent house, she knew why Bruce had let her sleep. He wasn’t even there.
There was only one place Bruce would go on his day off. The Horse N Saddle Saloon. Sam, the bartender, was accommodating and patient with him. He’d only been kicked out a few times and wasn’t barred from entering yet. Probably because he knew it was one of only two saloons in all of Wickenburg.
For a time, he had talked to Becky about opening up his own saloon. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the resources to venture into that business. It was for his own good anyway, Becky figured. If he was constantly around liquor and beer, he would drink up his profits.
She pictured what he would be like when he returned. She went out on the porch, forcing herself to think about something else. Her mind went back to the time when he’d been told he needed to return to the family home to care for his eleven year old sister.
He’d made no effort to hide his reluctance from her. At her tender age, she was looking up to him, needing support and comfort after the loss of their parents. However, Bruce treated it much like a business transaction. He didn’t want to care for her. He wanted to live his life free and clear, with no responsibilities other than himself and his own path.
She sat on the porch chair, putting both arms up on the armrests and letting her head fall back a bit. The memory was burned into her mind like a proverb set in stone. She could still see the look on his face when the Pastor told him there was no other choice. There were no orphanages in Wickenburg and their nearest relatives were across the country, in Virginia and New York. It would be weeks before they would even find out about the loss of the Duponts. There was no time, the Pastor had said. She is your sister. She is now your responsibility, your moral obligation.
Becky recalled the words exactly. She could still hear the Pastor uttering them.
The look on her brother’s face when he looked at her… to this day, it made Becky shudder. It was a clear and distinct hatred that shot out of those dark brown eyes in her direction. She knew it then and she co
uld still feel it to this day. It was the first time she had seen a scowl on her brother’s face so deep it made his young face look old and mean.
“There are no services provided by the church for this type of situation?” He eyed the Pastor. The older man shrugged and shook his head.
“Not here in Wickenburg, son,” he replied.
“Anywhere close by?”
The Pastor knew what Bruce was doing. He gave Becky a sympathetic look and shook his head again. “No. The important thing right now is that Becky gets the care, love, and support she needs. You are a young man now. She is still a child. She loves you because you are her big brother. I know you will do what’s right, son. Move back into the home so that Becky can stay where she has always been. You grew up there, as well. Perhaps you will find comfort in being in your parents’ home again.”
Bruce didn’t say anything. Becky remembered how red his face got and how his hands gripped his arms where he had them crossed so tightly that his knuckles were white. It was like he was being told he would be going to prison.
Becky came out of her thoughts when she saw movement at the Lewinsky home. Something was in the yard. She was sure of it. There were many plants in the yard now. Old Man Lewinsky had kept it all plain and bare, no plants, no shrubs, or flower beds. The young lady Lewinsky cared about the outer appearance of her home and so had planted all of those things.
She focused on the movement of the tall trees and shrubs surrounding half of the front yard. She narrowed her eyes to focus in as much as she could. She leaned forward and finally stood up and took a few steps toward the edge of the porch.
When she saw what she was sure to be a pair of men’s boots through some of the shrubbery, she moved to the steps and went down quickly.
The boots didn’t look familiar. They weren’t Bruce’s. If it was Bruce, why in heavens name would he be stalking around the Lewinsky home?
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she crossed the street. She breathed in and out as quickly and quietly as she could.
She rounded the corner of the shrubs and looked directly into the eyes of a scruffy-but-kind-looking man. He was bent over and appeared to be burying something.
She stared at him, blinking.
He stood up straight and smiled at her.
“Why, hello there.” His voice was smooth and sounded like music to Becky. He was exceedingly handsome in her eyes. His hair was blonder than hers, nearly yellow-white and it hung down to his shoulders. It was pulled back in a leather band. He took his hat off and tipped it in her direction. Then he put it back on, set down the shovel, and came toward her, holding out his hand. “Oh, wait a minute.” He stopped and wiped his hand with a kerchief he took from his pocket. Then he extended his hand again and flashed a wide grin at her. “I’m Kenny Abramson. It’s good to meet you.”
“You… you know the Lewinsky’s?” She took his hand gently and felt warmth go through her like she had not felt before. Her heartbeat had not slowed but now it beat for a different reason. She hoped to God he knew the Lewinsky’s.
“Oh, yes, of course!” He nodded. “They are in Louisville visiting some cousin or other. We are actually related if you want to go way back but suffice it to say we’re family. And you are?”
“Becky Dupont. I live in that house,” she turned and pointed behind her.
He looked in the direction she was pointing and nodded, quickly moving his eyes back to her. She noticed he was still wiping his hands with the cloth, as if he, too, was nervous. “I’ve seen you coming and going. Heard you a few times.”
“You’ve heard me?”
Kenny shrugged. “Oh, you know, I hear him more often because he likes to yell.”
Becky giggled weakly, embarrassed that her brother could be heard across the street. “Yes, he does.”
“And I hear you sometimes, too.” Kenny took a step closer to her. His eyes never left hers. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You do?”
“Yes.” He took another step closer. “Sometimes when you are hanging clothes on the line, you sing to yourself. I hear you singing all the time. You have a very nice voice, by the way.”
“Oh my goodness,” Becky lifted one hand and covered her mouth. Her cheeks were red and hot. She lowered her eyes.
He shook his head and put two fingers under her chin, lifting her face so that he could get eye contact with her. “Don’t be embarrassed. I find it soothing sometimes. It is a pleasant sound and I’m grateful for it. I hope that you will continue to do that while I am here.”
“Why are you here?” She didn’t think about how inappropriate it was to ask about his business until the words were already out.
“My friends, the Lewinsky’s, the distant relatives,” Kenny laughed. It was the most beautiful sound Becky had ever heard. She gazed at his face, noticing how blue his eyes were. They were like ice. “They asked me to watch the house for the summer. I told them I would. I’ve been here a couple weeks already. They wanted to leave during late spring and spend about six months there. In Louisville, I mean.”
“I did not mean to pry into your business,” Becky said quickly. “I apologize.”
He shook his head. “Again, there’s no need. I understand how surprised you must be, seeing some strange man living in the house across the street. But all is well.”
“Are you enjoying your stay so far?”
He smiled. “I am enjoying it.”
“Do you know anyone other than the Lewinsky’s?”
“I do. I have many friends in Wickenburg. I lived here for a time a few years back until…” he trailed off, his eyes becoming distant for a moment. Then he seemed to come back to reality and smiled, looking directly at her. “I just want you to know, Miss Becky Dupont. If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to ask me. I know you have your brother and he is a big man, a force to deal with, I would say. I’m not quite certain, though, that he can be depended on to protect you.”
Becky couldn’t find the words. He was right. She thought about the most recent yelling rants Bruce had offered up. She always felt like he was verbally throwing up on her. He would get drunk and rant and rave about something trivial until she could not stand it anymore and went to her room. There she could cuddle up with her handmade stuffed animals and forget about the world. If she could still hear him, pressing her animals against her ears helped muffle the sound. Sometimes she could even get to sleep that way.
CHAPTER FOUR
TRIES TO HELP
TRIES TO HELP
Several days later, Becky was delighted to see a horse and buggy coming down the road. There was a brightly- dressed woman driving it, with a hat that flopped around her with its wide brim. It was Alice Collins, one of the ladies who had offered her motherly services to Becky after the loss of her own. She and a few other women in town had taken the girl under their wings to help her understand becoming a woman. She considered Alice and the other women as her personal angels of mercy.
The horse and buggy came to a stop in front of her house and Alice climbed down excitedly. “Becky, Becky, my dear! It is so good to see you! It’s been too long.”
The two women met in the middle and hugged tightly. “Miss Alice, thank you for coming! I wasn’t expecting a visitor though. My home is a mess.”
Alice gave her a look of doubt and shook her head. “Oh no, my dear, your home is never a mess. That can be counted on like the moon coming out at night. I wanted to have a picnic lunch with you, dear. I packed us some nice food and brought along some sweetened tea. All you have to bring is your pretty little face.”
Becky turned around and linked arms with her friend to walk back into the house.
“Now, Bruce is at work, right?”
Becky nodded. Alice looked relieved.
“I’m sorry to say I’m glad to hear it. I know he doesn’t miss any work, does he?”
“No. He doesn’t want to be without a paycheck that will keep him in the lifestyle he enjoys.”
> Alice nodded. “The whiskey. I know. Sam has stories about him that will make your skin…” she looked at Becky, regretfully. “I’m sorry. Let’s not talk about Bruce. How have you been?”
Becky looked bashfully at her feet as she walked. “Oh, everything is the same with me, Alice. It is true and I must say it’s not something I enjoy. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Alice nodded.
“I am almost thirty years old. I have never been anywhere or experienced anything exciting in my life. It’s consumed with taking care of Bruce.”
“He doesn’t compliment you, does he? He doesn’t thank you for all you do for him.”
“Oh, no,” Becky shook her head. “I’ve told you before everything I do for him is an expectation that must be met. He says I owe him for the years he wasted raising me.”
Alice frowned deeply. “You do not owe him a debt. If you did, it would have been paid off long ago. He has never treated you with respect, Becky. If you want to go do something with yourself, maybe learn a trade or find a husband, you should do it. You shouldn’t hesitate.”
Becky looked down at the steps as she went up them. “I don’t think I can. I have no skills. I have no talents.”
Alice put one hand on her friend’s small shoulder. “My dear, you sound like you heard that from someone else and I can reckon who that might have been. You can’t let his opinion of you change who you really are. You are a sweet and kind young woman. You have a good head on your shoulders. You are smart, funny, and witty. You have many talents!”
Becky opened the front door and let Alice pass in front of her to go in. Alice knew her way around. She visited randomly to check up on Becky’s well-being. Always during the day when she knew Bruce would not be home. She avoided Bruce at all costs. She’d heard some stories from Adam about how rough Bruce could be. She wanted nothing to do with him.
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