insisted. Apparently he owed Mr. Wainwright some sort of favor. But now the owners blamed Jeb for the boy’s running away.
Mattie was left to sit for hours without food or water as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. She feared what was to come. Her lips moved in a silent litany of prayers, “Dear Lord, it me, Mattie. Please watch over my son and make sure he all right. And dear Lord, if it not too much, give me the strength to make it through this day.”
In the middle of the day, Mattie saw Mr. Wainwright’s carriage drive away. A hot wave of fear washed over her, sucking away her breath. Her hands gripped the bench she sat on. She had been left behind.
As the sun descended toward the horizon, long shadows marked the earth like a stain. Just as Mattie felt some relief from the beating of the sun Jeb came to deal with her.
“In,” he said sharply as he pointed to the cabin door beside the bench. Mattie fumbled with the metal latch to open the door. The young overseer did not follow behind, but rather pulled the door firmly closed, leaving Mattie alone in the dark, empty cabin. She heard the sharp echo of metal against wood as the door locked behind her.
This space felt familiar, but somehow wrong. It was constructed like the Quarters at Fair Oak with walls made from unfinished split-logs and a dusty dirt floor. The eight-by-eight-foot square dwelling was entirely empty with no window openings. Bits of light shone through the cracks in the boards, illuminating the particles of dust floating like stars in the empty space. The hard-packed dirt floor had a tight, circular path worn in the middle made by the pacing of earlier occupants.
When Mattie’s eyes adjusted to the dark she noticed carvings and dark brown images on the walls. They were covered in stick figures, stars, animals, and abstract patterns. Mattie’s eyes snaked over a particularly compeling pattern of five circles surrounding a center circle that bordered the entire room snaking up and down across the boards. The artist must have taken days to complete it. She moved in closer to examine the image. A slow, painful realization crept over Mattie: fingers and blood had made these patterns. Images of cut flesh and severed limbs filled her mind. Fear washed through her body.
Mattie sank down onto the ground, curled up her body, pressed her eyes hard into her knees, and struggled to breathe. She rocked back and forth, mumbling a quiet prayer, asking for strength and faith. Hours later her prayers and dreams were interrupted by the kick of a well-worn black boot.
“Stand up.”
The light of the moon came through the open door, throwing Jeb Martin into silhouette. He towered over her as she struggled to awareness. Before she managed to get herself up, he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up.
“Unbutton your dress.”
The acrid taste of fear filled Mattie’s mouth, a cold sweat sprang from her pores, and her heart pounded so loudly she could hear the swish, swish, swish of her own blood. She willed her arms to move, to do as the man staring at her asked, but they were frozen by her side.
“DO IT NOW!” he raged at her.
Large and imposing, his gaze bored into Mattie. She could not see, but rather felt the intensity of his stare. Reaching toward her neck with shaking hands, she clumsily unbound the buttons along her gown. An eternity passed getting each button to loosen from its noose. Jeb focused harder as she exposed more of her dark, shiny flesh in the moonlight. She heard the sounds of his deep breath and felt his exhalations on her clammy skin.
“Stop!” he yelled suddenly when she finished unbinding the button at her navel. “Turn around.”
She turned slowly. The instant Mattie faced the wall Jeb grabbed the neck of her gown and jerked it off her shoulders. Without a pause he quickly and proficiently lashed her three times, cutting into the skin at her shoulder blades. She cried out in pain. Tensing her shoulders in preparation
Mattie was left to sit for hours without food or water as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. She feared what was to come. Her lips moved in a silent litany of prayers, “Dear Lord, it me, Mattie. Please watch over my son and make sure he all right. And dear Lord, if it not too much, give me the strength to make it through this day.”
In the middle of the day, Mattie saw Mr. Wainwright’s carriage drive away. A hot wave of fear washed over her, sucking away her breath. Her hands gripped the bench she sat on. She had been left behind.
As the sun descended toward the horizon, long shadows marked the earth like a stain. Just as Mattie felt some relief from the beating of the sun Jeb came to deal with her.
“In,” he said sharply as he pointed to the cabin door beside the bench. Mattie fumbled with the metal latch to open the door. The young overseer did not follow behind, but rather pulled the door firmly closed, leaving Mattie alone in the dark, empty cabin. She heard the sharp echo of metal against wood as the door locked behind her.
This space felt familiar, but somehow wrong. It was constructed like the Quarters at Fair Oak with walls made from unfinished split-logs and a dusty dirt floor. The eight-by-eight-foot square dwelling was entirely empty with no window openings. Bits of light shone through the cracks in the boards, illuminating the particles of dust floating like stars in the empty space. The hard-packed dirt floor had a tight, circular path worn in the middle made by the pacing of earlier occupants.
When Mattie’s eyes adjusted to the dark she noticed carvings and dark brown images on the walls. They were covered in stick figures, stars, animals, and abstract patterns. Mattie’s eyes snaked over a particularly compeling pattern of five circles surrounding a center circle that bordered the entire room snaking up and down across the boards. The artist must have taken days to complete it. She moved in closer to examine the image. A slow, painful realization crept over Mattie: fingers and blood had made these patterns. Images of cut flesh and severed limbs filled her mind. Fear washed through her body.
Mattie sank down onto the ground, curled up her body, pressed her eyes hard into her knees, and struggled to breathe. She rocked back and forth, mumbling a quiet prayer, asking for strength and faith. Hours later her prayers and dreams were interrupted by the kick of a well-worn black boot.
“Stand up.”
The light of the moon came through the open door, throwing Jeb Martin into silhouette. He towered over her as she struggled to awareness. Before she managed to get herself up, he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up.
“Unbutton your dress.”
The acrid taste of fear filled Mattie’s mouth, a cold sweat sprang from her pores, and her heart pounded so loudly she could hear the swish, swish, swish of her own blood. She willed her arms to move, to do as the man staring at her asked, but they were frozen by her side.
“DO IT NOW!” he raged at her.
Large and imposing, his gaze bored into Mattie. She could not see, but rather felt the intensity of his stare. Reaching toward her neck with shaking hands, she clumsily unbound the buttons along her gown. An eternity passed getting each button to loosen from its noose. Jeb focused harder as she exposed more of her dark, shiny flesh in the moonlight. She heard the sounds of his deep breath and felt his exhalations on her clammy skin.
“Stop!” he yelled suddenly when she finished unbinding the button at her navel. “Turn around.”
She turned slowly. The instant Mattie faced the wall Jeb grabbed the neck of her gown and jerked it off her shoulders. Without a pause he quickly and proficiently lashed her three times, cutting into the skin at her shoulder blades. She cried out in pain. Tensing her shoulders in preparation
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