King of My Nightmare (King of My Nightmare, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  “Ah, we’re doing fine. He always told me his job was to teach me to live without him, and so far I’d say he did all right.” As I explained to her the things I’d been doing, I realized I was handling my situation much better than I gave myself credit for.

  While eyeing the projects I was pointing out to her, she said, “Looks like you are taking good care of things. Your grandfather certainly raised you right. It must have been so nice growing up in a good home.”

  Having never imagined living any other way, I suddenly felt bad for her having grown up with her drunken ol’ father. “It has been nice. I guess it still is in a different way. So, how are things going for you?” I asked, hoping something had improved in her life since we’d last spoken.

  Her shoulders drooped and her expression saddened. “Well, my father arranged a marriage for me. Maybe the livestock he is trading me for will like it at his shack better than I do.”

  Figuring anything had to be better than spending another night with that mean old man, I asked, “Who’s the lucky fellow?”

  “His name is Paul Jones. I only met him once, but I guess I’ll be getting to know him well when he comes to move me away next week.”

  “Next week, huh? Time flies by. Speaking of, I have to feed the pigs. Do you want to join me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” she giggled, and walked with me down to the stable.

  Following me around as I worked, she kept me company by asking questions and telling me silly little stories. Remembering how cute she could be, I started wondering why everyone spoke so poorly about her. There were plenty worse things a woman could do than the things she did. While washing my hands off in the ice cold water, I decided that I didn’t care what anyone else had to say. I liked Bridget Dudley.

  While rubbing my hands together to warm them, I asked, “What do you have planned for the day?”

  Hopping off the hay bale she was sitting on, she swayed in my direction. “I am hoping to spend it with you.”

  While I attempted to rearrange my busy schedule in my mind, she reached in my coat and started rubbing on my chest. “You’ve gotten taller and bigger since I last saw you. I didn’t think it was possible, but you are even more handsome, now.”

  The feel of her touch sparked a desire so hot in my body that the cold wind blowing through the door was no longer a bother. Something about the flirtatious glimmer in her eyes reminded me what it was like to feel happy and playful. But the sound of the pigs snorting in their pile of slop, reminded me of how much work I had to do. While part of me wanted to forget about my responsibilities, and give her what she seemed to be craving, I ended up thinking about all the shit my grandfather had said about marriage, and babies, and thinking things through. Yet, as she moved her hands into my shirt, and tickled down my belly—her fingertips drizzling across my skin like warm drops of water—I let my passion over ride my sense. Putting my hands on her cheeks, I gazed deep into her pretty brown eyes and kissed her.

  Instantly enchanted by the fluid movements of her tongue, I shielded her from the wind with my embrace and slowly backed her into the corner. Lifting her up on the work bench, I moved my hips between her legs and pulled up her skirts. She let out a sensual sigh as she wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me closer. In contrast to the sharp and cold weather, she was soft and warm inside. The wind howled through the rickety stable door as I moved in and out of her but her breath was like a summer breeze.

  No wiser than the animals in the stable behind me, I continued to follow my desire without a lick of thought in my mind, but the lustful haze clouding my sense cleared a bit when she said, “I love you, Mason. Make me yours and keep me forever.”

  Love? Oh, shit. I hadn’t seen that coming. But something about the moment got me wondering...Could this be love? The cadence of her sigh and the feel of her arms wrapped tight around my neck made me think I might have crossed that line. As she lifted her hips and kissed on my neck, I was tempted to tell her I felt the same. Maybe it was time to take a wife and make a family of my own. Rubbing my hands over her soft, white breasts, I figured it wouldn’t be so bad doing this for the rest of my life. She was pretty and she was sweet, and it sure would be nice getting loved on like this after a long day of work…

  “Mason!” I heard Lace’s voice harmonizing with the ghostly winds outside.

  Pulling out without finishing what I’d started, I buckled my belt and shooed Bridget off the counter. “Holiday’s over.”

  “What?” She winced. “You act like she’s going to whip you if you don’t heed her orders.”

  Annoyed by her words, I snapped, “Don’t worry about what I act like. I’ve got shit to do.”

  Hearing Lace call for me again, terror ringing in her tone, I rushed Bridget towards the door. She whined about my actions as she followed me toward the gate, but her nattering complaints were lost in the sound of the wind when I spotted Lace walking across the snow covered yard in her nightgown. She looked as lost as could be.

  I called for her, “It’s all right, Lace. I’m over here.”

  Glancing in my direction, her light eyes brightened with relief. She ran to me. Throwing her arms around my neck for a second, and then retracting, she patted my cheek and tapped on my shoulders. “There was no fire. No fire. I was cold. No fire.”

  As I tried to console my sister, I heard Bridget huff, “Aye, we’re all cold. It’s winter time.”

  Without ever acknowledging Bridget’s presence, Lace stepped away from me and started scratching her arm. “No fire. You were gone. So cold.”

  Bridget pulled on my arm, “Oh, good Lord. Can’t you just make her go back inside?”

  I looked at Bridget. “She can’t go inside because it is freezing in there. I never started the fire because I came out to greet you.”

  Distracted by the sounds of Lace rambling behind me, I tried to focus on Bridget’s words as she rolled her eyes. “Then she should have started a fire. I have been warming my home while my drunken father sleeps since I was five years old.”

  “Maybe you have, but my grandfather raised me to take care of her and—”

  “Mason.” Lace patted my arm. “Here. You’re here.”

  When I turned to face Lace, Bridget snipped at her, “Can’t you see we are in the middle of a conversation?”

  They were both starting to annoy me. Feeling torn between the two of them, and trying to hear and care about what both of them were saying, I finally snapped. “Quiet down, Lace! And you, Bridget, you need to go home.”

  Lace did not quiet down, and rather than leaving, Bridget said to Lace, “Thanks for ruining everyone’s day, you loony little witch.”

  No longer wondering who to side with, I nudged Bridget toward the gate. “Go. Go now.”

  Cursing under her breath, she moved along. Once we got to the road, I pointed at her face. “You will never again talk to my sister that way at her house.”

  “Her house? Ha! This is your house, and if you don’t get rid of her soon you’re going to be living here all alone for all your life. No woman in her right mind would want to marry a man who’s housing his lunatic sister.”

  Stung to the core by the truth in her statement, I tightened my fists and clenched my teeth. “And no man in his right mind would want to make a wife out of a slut like you. So, good bloody luck with the horse’s arse that’s coming to get you next week.”

  Sticking her nose up in the frigid air, Bridget turned and walked away. “Good riddance, Mason Bentley.”

  Feeling shitten for speaking so harshly to her, but still too angry to take it back, I kicked the gate open then slammed it behind me.

  Setting sight on my sister, I thought of all the trouble she’d been causing me lately and shouted at her, “What is the matter with you?” My anger intensifying with every word, I stormed in her direction.

  As I approached her, she stuttered, “Grandfather said—”

  “Don’t tell me about what Grandfather said. I hang on to e
very word he ever spoke, never once forgetting a thing he taught me, but apparently, you have.” Hands flailing, I unleashed all the things that had been weighing heavy on my mind. “All you do now is lie in your room, crying like a baby, while I do all the jobs he taught you to do around here. Do you think I like dusting the shelves, or washing the clothes, or making shitty stew to keep us fed? No! I don’t like it one bit. In fact, I hate it!” I ripped off my hat and threw it across the yard. “I’m tired, Lace. This is all too much for one man to handle and if you don’t start helping me around here I am going to lose my damn mind!”

  Her light green eyes filled with tears. As they began flowing down her cheeks, she fell to her knees, laid her face in her hands, and sobbed like a blubbering baby.

  There was no denying the relief I felt after the verbal unleashing of the distress I’d been harboring, but overall, I felt like shit for yelling at her and making her cry. Grandfather would have slapped me upside the head if he had seen me treating her this way.

  After taking a deep breath, I apologized, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” While helping her up I realized how cold she was. “It is freezing out here. Let’s get you inside and we’ll talk about the rest once you are warm.”

  When she nodded to agree, more tears fell out of her eyes and ran down her icy cheeks. Putting my arm over her shoulder, I pulled her close and walked her up the stairs. Once inside, I sat her down in front of the fireplace, covered her with a blanket, then hurried along to start the fire that should have been burning steady long before any of this shit happened.

  As the kindling lit, she held her pale hands out to absorb the heat. Her teeth were chattering and her lips looked blue. Letting her take some time to warm up and rest, I made us something to eat.

  When I handed her a bowl of porridge, she looked at me with sad eyes.

  Sitting next to her, I said, “I understand that you miss Grandfather, and I know it’s hard to carry on without him, but it’ll be easier for us both if we work together. And I’m sorry for upsetting you, too. Beyond leaving you in the cold, I know how important our routine is to you and I never should have strayed from it.”

  “Not for her,” she sneered and then shivered with disgust. “I saw her. I saw her with other boys.”

  Thinking back on my morning with Bridget, I figured she was just looking for someone else to marry her so she wouldn’t have to move away with that Mister Jones. Feeling like an idiot for falling under that wench’s spell, but also glad I was smart enough to not say the dumb shit she had me thinking, I said to my sister, “Well, don’t worry. After the way she talked to you I don’t want to see her anymore, either. But, more women are batting their eyelashes at me than ever before, so you’re going to have to get used to me spending time with the ones I find interest in.”

  “I know.” She hugged her knees. “They all like you. All of them. Don’t leave me for them, Mason.”

  “Ah, I’m never going to leave you, Lace. Grandfather told me it was my job to find you a good man who will love and care for you, and I promise I won’t go anywhere without getting you taken care of, first.”

  She exhaled heavily. “They’re all getting married. I don’t want to, Mason. I’m sorry, Mason.”

  Lowering my face into my hands, I let out a long sigh. Though I never liked the idea of her being married off, the thought of being responsible for her forever led to a whole new world of worry. She was as pretty as a flower, and her heart was as sweet as honey, but her mind was just...different. Her moods were shifty like sand, her emotions were as fragile as thin ice, and the way she distanced herself from the outside world assured me that I could never leave her to face it without me.

  Chapter 3

  Unusually Cold Rain

  Brutal rainstorms and harsh winter winds kept us home most of the season, which wasn’t so bad. It allowed me to hold off on future plans for Lace, and with the other girls in town being kept inside where it was warm, I didn’t have to worry about anyone seducing me into making stupid decisions. Plus, Lace was cooking and cleaning again, so after my day of work I was able to enjoy a tasty meal and unwind by the fire.

  One Sunday night after dinner, while Lace was busy stitching one of my shirts, I lay on a blanket by the fire and listened to the rain. Since I was a young boy, I had always loved the rain. The sound it made when falling onto the earth and rooftops seemed to me like a lullaby, and the smell of it meshing with the elements was like a mystic perfume. Whether pouring, drizzling, or just misting up the air, rain had a way of soothing my soul like nothing else in this world.

  Eased by the melody of nature’s tune, and comforted by the warmth of the fire, I nearly fell asleep right there on the floor, but in between blinks, something caught my eye. The Holy Bible on the shelf. Though Grandfather couldn’t read, he treasured that book. While looking at the words on the cover, I got an idea. Getting up, I took it off of the shelf. After grabbing a few other supplies, I sat at the table and called Lace to join me.

  As she plopped down next to me, I said, “I think we should learn to write.”

  She kinked her head to the side. “Can we read and write?”

  “We know a few words. I mean, some of them are just plain obvious. Like, this wooden letter grandfather hung on the wall is a B, for Bentley, and this book is called the Holy Bible, so I reckon that’s what it says right here. That means Bible starts with B, like Bentley. See, we are already learning.” I flashed a silly grin then passed her the quill. “Why don’t you try to write something?”

  “You go first.” She twiddled her fingers.

  “Are you scared?” I teased.

  “No, only rich people know how to write.”

  “Maybe that’s why they are rich, eh? That upper hand of knowledge can go a long way. Just look at this big, heavy book, full of the word of the Lord. People who can read it can get closer to God themselves, but the people who can’t just got to trust the man telling them what God says. Well, I don’t want anybody holding that knowledge over my head, so I’m going to learn to read and write.”

  I spent the next week of my life attempting to decipher the words in the book, in comparison to the things I’d been taught in church. Finding it far more difficult than I had imagined, I ended up doing extra work around the church yard in exchange for occasional lessons with Mister Smith. He used to be a tutor, and was more than willing to feed my desire to learn with the great many things he knew.

  Determined to become literate, sleep became less and less important to me, and I’d stay up late into the night studying like a man obsessed. Teaching Lace the things I was learning helped me to focus on the little details, and as winter came to its end I was able to read to her every night before bed.

  After spitting out another sloppy attempt at the book of James, I said goodnight to my sister and headed out to my writing desk. I had been working at the supper table, but I felt like a smart old man when I called it my writing desk.

  With an unusually cold rain falling outside, I threw another log on the fire and sat down to write a letter. Come spring time, we’d be making our annual trip to Bristol, and I wanted to let Mister Nathan Huxley know we were planning on staying at his Stone House Inn. On one hand, I wanted to write to him simply because I could now, but on the other hand, I thought it’d be good to build a relationship with the man who had shown interest in my sister.

  Insisting on achieving a level of handwriting that no longer looked like the scribbling of an idiot boy, I ended up using the better half of my minimal stack of parchment until the letter looked just right. Soothed by the pleasant sound of raindrops beating on the roof, along with the crackling of the fire within my warm home, I found myself feeling grateful for all that I had. Grandfather left us a nice place, and I was finally feeling good about my ability to follow in his footsteps.

  As I sealed my finished letter to Nathan Huxley, I heard a thump on the porch. First, I thought a plank came loose in the wind, but then I heard it again, and again. The
repetitive sound was soon followed by a knock on the door. Night fell early this time of year, so it wasn’t very late, but it still seemed strange to get a visitor at this hour. Grabbing my axe, I stepped lightly towards the door and attempted to peak out the window from where I would not be seen. Whoever it was, the darkness of his shadow proved that he was big, much bigger than anyone familiar to me.

  Attempting to tame my increasing heartbeat, I called out, “Who goes there?”

  “It’s me, Robert. Robert Hale. Your father. Please let me in, my son.”

  My father? Damnation. With all the shit I’d been dealing with, I’d clean forgotten about this reoccurring problem. “No. I’m not letting you in.”

  “Come on, my boy. Don’t deny me like your grandfather always had.”

  Since Grandfather had always denied him, all I’d ever seen of the man was through this very window, and the mere sight of his massive silhouette assured me that I never wanted to see him on this side of the wall.

  “Go away, Robert,” I snarled, unwilling to grant him the title of father.

  Stepping towards the window where I stood, he spoke through the closed curtain, “Please, Mason. Please. It is freezing cold and I have nowhere to go.”

  “That isn’t my problem.” I held tight to my axe, trying not to shiver in my skin.

  Big and dastardly as he appeared, I was surprised to hear him release a pathetic weep, “You don’t know the whole story, son.”

  “I know you abandoned my mother before we were born, and that’s all I need to know.”

  Tapping on the window like a hapless fool, he cried, “That isn’t the truth, son. Please let me in and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Are you calling my grandfather a liar?”

  “No. I had nothing but respect for the man, but there are some things he didn’t know. Please, I’m injured and it’s mighty cold out here. If I have to hobble back to town I might die.”