“Right you will.” The shrillness of his angry voice pierced my throbbing head like a needle. And as he removed his cane and pointed it toward Robert Hale, the words he squawked stabbed right through my already aching heart. “This man here has agreed to give me his daughter’s hand in marriage, and I came all this way to collect her, but rather, you shot and killed my precious lead horse and injured two of my best guardsmen. Hank’s eye is completely ruined. He will be blind and worthless from now on. And Jacob lost two teeth. Not to mention that my lovely young mistress is now trembling like a leaf on a tree, and covered in mud like a ghastly little farm pig.”
Mortified by the fact that Robert had offered my sister’s hand to that ugly and mean old land owner, and dreading the punishments he could inflict upon me for the damage I’d done, I tried to think of what I could do to get out of the trouble Robert had gotten me into. With many far from excusable explanations bouncing around in my aching head, I ended up simply saying, “I’m sorry, Lord Beckham. Just let me know the cost and I will find a way to pay you.”
He stared me down like he was appraising me at a market. In his judgmental gaze, it was plain to see that I was nothing more than a coin he could make from my labor. “You, Mason Bentley, will certainly owe me more than your measly life is worth. In fact, I may have to sell this farm to compensate for the cost.” He waved his hand around my property.
No. He couldn’t. There was no way the price of that horse would equate to the worth of this land. He must have been showing off his power. But, he had all the power here, and could squish me like a fly if he wished to do so. Looking at Lace, who was holding tight to the porch post, and imagining what the hell I would do if I lost her or the land where my grandfather had buried his wife and daughter, and where I had buried him, my gut churned to the point of sickness.
After taking a deep breath in attempt to reel in my scattering thoughts, I said, “Please, sir. There has to be something we can work out. You know I have always paid you on time, and without complaint. And I can’t bear the thought of losing my sister and my home.”
I hated the way my voice cracked as I pleaded, and felt even weaker when Abraham’s deep voice spoke up on my behalf, “Please, sir. You must understand that Robert Hale has been over here causing trouble, and Mason was only trying to protect his sister.”
Tom added, “Mason Bentley is a good lad, and is every bit as honest and reasonable as Sterling was. I am sure he will make this up to you however he can. And we will be willing to help in any way possible.” He looked at Abraham. They both nodded at me to let me know they were on my side.
Thankful for their support, I stood up straight as I assured the landlord of my guarantee, “I will, sir.”
A haughty grin crossed the old man’s wrinkled face. While tapping the glass ball on his cane with his long, bony fingers, he said, “I’m taking your sister no matter what. That pretty young girl will give me strong and attractive sons, like your grandfather. As for this lot, well…for a poor old farmer, Sterling Bentley was a decent man and it is due to the longtime, good standing of our business relationship, that I will allow you to keep this land if you can indeed pay me for the damages done.”
Though I was relieved by the thought of him giving me a chance, when he mentioned the amount I’d owe him I resisted the urge to gag out loud. I had just paid my dues and had nowhere near enough money to give him what he needed. As I thought over the things I could do to earn such an amount in a short period of time, Robert stuck his fat head in my personal business and spoke to my landlord, “Listen, sir. I understand that this night went nothing as planned, and to apologize for my part in the trouble, I’d like to make a suggestion.”
“I don’t want to hear your stupid suggestion,” I barked at him.
While my neighbors attempted to dismiss the one legged drunkard from this important discussion, Lord Beckham shushed them, “Silence that bantering or I will take your lots, as well.”
Naturally, they silenced.
After smirking at my friends, Robert Hale stood solid on his one leg and spewed out his heinous plan, “As you can tell by the way Mason has conducted himself the latter half of this eve, he is a very reasonable young man. Also, judging by the condition of this lot, it’s plain to see that he is a hard worker. You know better than anyone how difficult it is to find a good, reliable tenant these days, and you have to admit that it’d be tough to beat the agreement you have with the Bentley family. But being how Mason doesn’t have the kind of money you need on hand, you might consider taking him as a servant to compensate the loss he has inflicted upon you. Then, I could stay here and tend the farm and see to it that the rent is paid while he works off the debt.”
Just as I opened my mouth to tell the landlord why that backstabbing, twofaced, lying, cheating, sodden rat of a devil’s plan would never work, Beckham raised his hand, signaling me to stop. Without as much as looking in my direction, he said to Robert, “And what makes you think I would trust an ill-kempt street urchin like you to take care of this land and pay me my dues?”
“I used to work here, sir. Sterling Bentley was the closest thing I ever had to a father and he taught me all there is to know about farming. It would be my honor to tend his fields and livestock to help see to it that my son is allowed to keep his property, while you also receive your payments. It’s a winning situation for you in all aspects, sir. And such an agreement is the least I can think to offer in exchange for the trouble we have caused you tonight.”
My neighbors and I all raised a fuss, and between the lot of us we offered a few different solutions, but none of them seemed to appease the landlord like the one Robert came up with.
Soon enough, Lord Beckham ordered us all to silence around him. As he tapped on his absurdly large Adam’s apple, humming in thought, I fantasized about taking Robert’s crutch and beating him with it. How dare he come here and do this to us. Now, I plainly understood why Grandfather said his heart would swarm with blackness in that man’s presence. I had been in plenty of fistfights and there were a few times I’d been downright angry with some of the people I had met, but I had not known hatred until tonight.
My visions of vengeance were quickly overridden by the sight of the landlord turning his gaze toward my petrified sister. Though I hated every bit of the way he was looking at her, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. There was nothing I could do about any of this and I hated that most of all.
After Lord Beckham was done indulging himself in the sight of my sister, he returned his attention to Robert. As if I no longer was the one making the decisions concerning my life, my sister, or my home, they went back and forth about the details that would make this accord most profitable to all.
Once they were in agreement, Lord Beckham looked at me, and concluded, “Mason Bentley, if you are willing to work on my land, I will let you return to your home on good graces once the debt is repaid.”
I looked to my neighbors, hoping they would have an idea about how to get me out of this mess, but they both just shrugged their shoulders helplessly. All of our hands were tied. Though I abhorred everything about how this plan would affect my present life, at least I’d get my house back in the end. As for Lace, her fate was sealed and for the first time in my life, there was not a damn thing I could do to save her. But realizing that it would be best to stay on good terms with the bastard that would be marrying her, I knew what I had to do.
I stuck out my hand to shake his.
Surveying the dry blood on my hand—which was most certainly part of the mush from Hank’s eyeball—Lord Timothy Beckham winced in disgust. Realizing how foolish it was to think a lowly peasant like me could agree on a handshake with a lord like him, I simply nodded my battered and bruised head at him instead. “We have an accord, Lord Beckham.”
Speaking those very words hurt me more than the beating I received only moments before, but I tried to convince myself of how it was more of a compromise than surrender as the landlord n
odded to finalize the deal.
Chapter 4
Bare Hands
Digging yet another hole in Lord Timothy Beckham’s yard, I once again cursed myself for losing everything my grandfather worked his whole life for. Sure, I’d get my house back once the debt was paid, but God only knew what condition it would be in with Robert staying there, and though we had only been here two months, the changes in our lives had already taken a heavy toll on Lace.
Early on, that beak-nose bastard deemed her unfit to wed, and after threatening to throw her out with the rubbish, he decided it better to keep her as a servant in order to make a return on the money he paid Robert for her. Though the master’s new wife seemed to be taking good care of Lace, during my short and hushed visits with her, I saw how she had changed. Normally, the springtime sunshine lightened her hair and tanned her skin, but being stuck in that mansion, her hair had become unusually dark and her skin was paler than ever. She’d also lost a great deal of weight, and would not look me in the eyes when I asked how she was doing.
My worries over her condition plagued me daily, but I also had my own troubles to deal with in the fields of Lord Beckham’s manor. The work itself was fine, and the men I was teamed with were good fellows, but I hated working under the threat of Beckham’s whip. I’d yet to see him use it, but hearing the fearful stories the humiliatingly obedient farmhands told of the times that he had, and seeing how their pride withered within its shadow, were enough for me to dread the mere sight of the thing. I hated the sound of it cracking in the air as Beckham reminded us to rush along in our work, and I abhorred the way he twisted his bony fingers around the leather cord as he reminded me, personally, that I owed him every bit of my sweat and strength till we were even.
But whip or not, I worked steadily and without complaint. For all I could see ahead of me was the day this would all be over. And one day, somehow, Robert Hale would pay for what he had done to my sister and me.
Setting the shovel, and my resentments aside, I knelt down and prepared to sow the seeds. Raking my fingers through the cool, damp earth, I looked over to see how the other two farmhands were doing. Watching the way Daniel was carelessly tossing seeds into the trench I’d meticulously dug, and how Isaac was recklessly covering them with dirt, I stood up to stop them, “No, no, no. Daniel, you need to loosen the soil with your fingers before you lay those seeds down, and the spacing needs to be even. And Isaac, you have to think about how much soil you’re laying over them. Enough to keep them shaded and give them space to spread their roots, but not so much that the sprout can’t push through it.”
They both asked a hundred questions while trying to do things the way I had explained. Though I’d only been here for two months, these young men—who’d been here long enough to have been stripped of their identities and robbed of their confidence—followed me around and asked me for advice on everything they did. Sometimes it was annoying, but overall, their company helped to distract me from my woes.
While guiding them through the procedure, I cracked a few jokes to amuse us as we suffered, and also offered compliments to remind them that they were worth a damn in their work.
Moving to the next row, Daniel said, “You know so much about plants and the seasons, and you work so hard in the field. I bet that farm you came from yielded a healthy harvest.”
Thinking back on how bountiful our harvest was, and how much I always enjoyed the fall festivals in town, I resisted the sadness that came over me as I said, “The better I care for my crops, the better my dinner will taste. So, all my life I’ve strived for success in the field. But now…” Bending over in the beating sun, carefully placing the seeds in the dirt, all I could think about was how I hoped Lord Beckham would choke on the meaty pulp of the squash I would harvest for him in the fall.
“But now what, Bentley?” Isaac asked.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
No longer interested in talking, I kept to myself as we finished the row. They respected my solitude as the hour passed, but eventually, Daniel tapped my shoulder. “Look, Bentley, Madam July is coming out to see you again.”
As the master’s lovely young wife walked under the shade tree and in our direction, Isaac mocked her girly voice, “Oh, Mason, I’ve missed you since this morning.”
Daniel acted like her, twirling a curl of her hair. “Why don’t you come give me what that nasty old man can’t.”
Their remarks were followed by some silly kissy faces and stupid jokes, but while sprinkling a layer of dirt over the row we were working on, I said, “You’ll be kissing my shovel if you don’t quiet down.”
Madam July was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, but I couldn’t risk a moment of my livelihood by entertaining the idea of finding interest in the master’s wife, not even through jokes. Yet, I suddenly realized that—just like my fellow farmhands—I had stopped what I was doing and was staring at her like a dumbstruck dolt as she drew near. Her brunette locks shimmered in the sun as she stepped into the light between the trees, and her wide smile brightened like the rays shining on the field as she made eye contact with me and waved me over.
Damn, she was far too young, beautiful, and kind to be stuck with the mean old Lord Beckham.
Snapping out of the trance her beauty held me under, I dusted my dirty hands on my brown breeches, then wiped the sweat from my brow on the sleeve of my ivory shirt, and walked toward the lawn to meet with Madam July Beckham.
Afternoon wind blew cool through the branches of the shade tree overhead, soothing the sweat from my overheated body as I approached the lady of the manor. The clean, white fabric of her frilly dress made me feel extra dirty in comparison, but the gleam in her eyes proved that she wasn’t the least bit offended by my lack of elegance.
Dirty or not, I stood like a proud and respectful gentleman as I greeted her with a slight bow. “Good afternoon, Madam July.”
“Oh, Mason, I keep telling you, just call me July. You might be Timothy’s servant, but I consider you a friend.”
Unwilling to treat her like anything other than my whip-wielding master’s wife, I ignored her statement and asked, “What brings you out here this fine afternoon?”
“Well, I have noticed that Lace is doing much better now that I have her on a good routine. Thank you for letting me know that would help her.”
“I’ve spent my life taking care of that girl and I’m just thankful you’re treating her nice while I’m busy out here.”
She put her hand on my arm. “I simply adore the way you care for your sister.”
Backing away from her touch, I nodded. “My grandfather told me it’s a man’s God-given job to protect his family, so I guess you could say I’m just doing my job.”
She let out a love-struck sigh, then started fanning her pretty face and rosy cheeks with a little white hand fan. “You don’t belong out here, Mason. I know Timothy treats you poorly, and I hate hearing him speak down to you like he does, but don’t ever let his insults get to you. You’re a better man than he will ever be, no matter how much money he has, and I know your future will be much brighter than this.”
Pleased by her kind words, I simply nodded at her, then let her know I had to get back to work.
X
Finishing the day in the field, I headed to the washroom with Isaac and Daniel. We laughed and joked along the way, but when I saw Lace in the window of the study, I told them to go on without me. She was closing the curtains for the eve but I figured I’d walk over there to say hello and see if she needed anything.
Stepping lightly through the bushes, I crept toward the window, and peeked in between the heavy blue drapes.
Scratching her arm like she did when she was nervous, Lace sat down on the desk and slid back where I could no longer see her face. While I wondered what she was doing, I realized Timothy Beckham was in there with her.
With the window closed, I couldn’t make out the words he was saying, but the expression on his pale and wrinkly face
led me to believe he was up to no good.
Just as I wondered what I would do if he intended to hurt her, I watched him step in her direction. My gut churned with inebriating sickness as he pointed at her and whispered some sort of hushed demand. The beating of my heart seemed to cease altogether as he began to reach up her skirts. No. God, no. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be doing this. But he was.
As he moved his lanky body between her legs, I pried the window open and jumped inside. I caught a quick glimpse of his beady eyes widening with shock when he saw me, but before I heard a word he was saying, I shoved him away from her. Next thing I knew, he was on the ground and I was punching his sweaty face, over and over. I felt his nose bust under my fist. I watched blood coat his face. Realizing he was making too much noise, I laid my hand on his mouth to silence him, but he bit me. Feeling his teeth dig into my skin and land hard upon my bone, I resisted the urge to shout out, only to realize he was trying to call for help. I laid my hand on his throat and he started choking. There were words sputtering out between his miserable groans. One solid sentence came through clear enough for me to understand. “You’ll be sorry, Mason Bentley.”
The wrathful cloud fogging my mind cleared just long enough for me to envision how sorry I could be. My livelihood was in his hands. He had the right to takeaway my land and could very well have me hanged for attacking him. Then Lace would be left alone with him...
Hearing him gagging under the force I held on his windpipe, I realized I had gone too far. There would be no walking away from this...for him.
I pressed down harder. His body tensed as his face turned blue. Beneath my hand, I felt the life leave his body and flee the room all together. An eerie chill filled the void.
I’d killed him.
King of My Nightmare (King of My Nightmare, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 6