a generous game
From the weathered plantation house a light shown dimly from a downstairs window, where a woman stared boldly at the face on the mantel. It was an attractive frame, mahogany stained with carved vines that covered its corners. The black and white picture appeared more faded than before, perhaps from too much heat or that she couldn’t remember clearly enough from the passage of time. Regardless, her eyes pierced with raged showed little remorse as she took it in her hand and flung it across the room. It landed next to the overturned end table on the floor, amongst the pillows that had been torn from the navy settee.
Emmett, a boy of thirteen, tall and lanky with curly blonde hair, ran into the living room.
“What happened, Mama?” he asked. “I thought the house was struck by lightning!”
She turned to him, swiping the disheveled brown hair away from her eyes, and pinned it back in place. There were no tears resonating from the pain.
“I’m just tired of the arrangement is all,” she huffed. “Go on to bed now and never mind my undoing.”
He knew at times like these that it was best to leave her alone. Somehow she managed to work through her madness like a caged animal, having finally been let loose after being pent up for too long a time. Theirs was a relationship of understanding, with simple words and knowing nods. All would be well enough in the morning, so he headed back down the hallway, passing the staircase that led to the upstairs rooms.
Suddenly, the dogs started howling and barking at some disturbance. She ranted to the front door and shoved it open, as the screen door beat against the side of the house and began yelling at them. “Shut up before I beat you every last one with a big stick! Good for nothin’ muts!”
Then she picked up an open gallon sized tin, half-filled with white paint, and threw it at them. Most of it splashed onto the porch and down the front steps as the dogs tarried after the noise. She stood for a moment and reached back inside the house, where a single barreled shotgun leaned against the casing. As soon as she took it by hand, a man sized shadow slipped inside the barn. The dogs, a mix of border collies and hounds, disappeared behind him, baying on with a fever.
Emmett rushed out the front door and gripped the gun by the barrel.
“Let me go, Mama! I’m a better shot,” he pleaded.
She pried his narrow fingers from the barrel and argued.
“Nothin’ doin’! If one of us is gonna hang for this, it’s gonna be me!”
He didn’t budge, but was absolute in his position as he tried to pull it from her again, twisting the stock as though to force her hands loose.
“I’m not gonna let you do it..,” he insisted once more. “You don’t know who it is!”
She steadied her voice for a moment and took a deep breath, speaking above a whisper. “It’s somebody prowlin’ around,” she reasoned. “No tellin’ what they’re up to. Now go on back inside!”
At once, he did as commanded by returning inside the house, but only to get a lantern and a large cleaver from the kitchen.
Slowly she crept down the front steps barefoot, the puddle of paint swelling between her toes until her feet touched the soppy grass.
“Come out with your hands up,” she yelled, “or I swear I’ll shoot you deader than dead. You no good sonofabitch!”
There was nothing. She looked around the area and was afraid to venture any further. Then she heard Emmett running up behind her with the lantern. The rain had let up into a drizzle, but the fog was heavy upon the ground. There was no response at first as the dogs continued to growl, and then a horse bucked at the wooden planks of its stall and neighed violently, shaking the side of the barn as it bolted from the opening with the rider on its back.
Startled, she fired one shot and the man went down, falling from the saddle like a fly from a window stoop. He rolled onto the grass and the horse circled the yard saddle-less, before returning to the barn.
Her hands were shaking as the steam drew upward from the barrel and she handed the gun to Emmett, taking the lantern instead. “Stay here,” she insisted. “I’m gonna get a closer look.”
Emmett remained behind only by a few paces as his mother shined the light on the thief, as he held onto the gun
and the cleaver in the event that both were needed.
“Please miss..,” the man groaned. “I’m not armed. Robbers took me on the road.” Daniel tried to peek up, but the flame was so bright that it blinded his view, and he was choking and wheezing for air.
She hesitated to go near him, but then another shroud of lightning blanketed the sky. It was obvious he had taken a beating, besides the tumble from the horse. His shoulder was hemorrhaging from the wound, and his shirt was drenched, matted with blood and shredded at the seams.
“Come on then and let’s get you inside,” she postured to think about it, but then bent down to help him up. “But I’m warning you, you’re not out of danger yet!”
Emmett continued to aim the gun at the stranger, as he walked a straight line behind them.
“One wrong move, and your ass is one black buckeye!” he added with a deepened voice, as his mother glanced at him in surprise.
Before they made it to the porch, the rain came down again in torrents, whipping at their backs as she strained to support him while the dogs darted back and forth, hindering their pace and sniffing around their feet.
Once inside, they trailed a wet path mingled with paint into the living room where she let him drop onto the settee.
With the pillows on the floor, it was hard as wood beneath his back, but he didn’t complain, only from the pain that started at his collar bone and throbbed the length of his arm.
“Go get a blanket and hurry now,” she said to Emmett as she inspected the torn ligaments and muscle.
“I was taken by bandits,” Daniel moaned again, making every effort to communicate clearly.
She took the quilt from Emmett and tossed it over his legs and then pointed to a knife that was stabbed into the knot of a log on the hearth. “Heat up that knife in the fireplace. We’re gonna be needin’ it,” she said.
Emmett picked up the cleaver and held it to the flame, when Daniel caught sight of it. With a stuttering thrust, he arched up and complained, “Oh, hell no!”
She turned to the boy in disbelief and repeated, “The knife over there on the hearth, son. And for goodness sake, put that thing back in the kitchen!”
Daniel gave a sigh of relief as he eased back down and tried not to agonize too much, while Emmett followed his mother’s orders.
“Don’t try anything stupid now,” she warned him again. “I’ll be right back.”
She stood and headed into the kitchen, with nary a word in return. Then she poured some water into a kettle and grabbed a couple of dish clothes. Emmett had just placed the meat cleaver onto the cutting board on the counter when they both returned to the task at hand.
As Emmett stoked the fire and heated the blade of the knife inside the flame to sterilize it, she placed a kettle of water onto a hook to boil.
Daniel tried to shift his body and winced as he spoke. “I don’t mean you no harm.”
She looked at him only slightly and took the knife from Emmett, raising the blade to touch it. It was hot to the touch and she quickly put her finger in her mouth to soothe the burn. Then she placed the knife onto one of the cloths and turned to him.
“I’m not at all surprised,” she said sarcastically, as she poked around at the wound. “It’s a wonder you made it this far. It’s a mean bunch that lives up the road and I feared you were one of ‘em.”
His shirt was soaked in blood where his sleeve was torn, but it didn’t seem as bad as she had expected.
“It’s gotta come off,” she said flatly.
Daniel got concerned and questioned hastily, “My arm?!”
She smirked in amusement, “No, dammit. Your shirt.”
He nodded his head as she unbuttoned the f
ront and lifted him up enough to remove it. Then she handed the bloodied rag to Emmett as he gave her a couple of dampened cloths. She blotted down the wound and then picked up the knife again.
Daniel was nervous and it was heard in his voice. “Are you sure you know how to use that?” he asked.
She grinned for the first time and replied, “Let’s hope so, because I’m all the help you’re gonna get.”
He turned his head and gritted his teeth as she pricked inside the shaft of skin.
“It’s unsightly, but I do believe you’ll live,” she said while wiping her brow and giving him a chance to exhale.
“By the way, I’m Annabelle,” she said flatly with her thick southern accent.
Daniel took a deep breath and then clenched his muscles tightly, before she moved in again.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he clenched his teeth and his butt in agony. “Daniel.., Stone,” he replied in a high pitched whimper.
She attempted to conceal a laugh as she dug a little deeper at the wound.
“Ahh! What are you trying to do, make the hole bigger?!” he exclaimed out of exhaustion.
She laughed, allowing her guard down somewhat, as she laid the knife on the sofa table behind her. “You’re one lucky trespasser,” she smiled as beads of sweat streamed from both their foreheads.
Then she took the dampened cloth and wiped it, smoothing it across his forehead and chin. The side of his face was swollen and bruised and his eyes were bloodshot and weary. She continued to pat down the wound even though it was sensitive to the touch. Then she dipped the cloth into the kettle and wrung it out, cleaning his neck and chest.
He noticed the way her wet skin illuminated against the backdrop of flames, and the gold in her brown hair that lit with the stems of fire. Her blouse was buttoned to the crease of her breast, but her nipples were pressed round and hard against the clinging wet pale fabric.
There was concern in her eyes when she caught him watching her, with each stroke of the cloth that lapped across his chest, he breathed in as though every inch was a nerve. His eyes followed her every move, and his thoughts too hidden behind his discomfort to show what he was thinking.
She removed his glasses. “Bet you can’t see a damn thing without those,” she spat the words knowingly, as she pondered curiously.
For the first time he grinned and closed his eyes, “Damn near blind,” he responded as Emmett handed her a ladle of water.
She placed it against his lips and he sipped from the side. Then he continued to breathe slow and deep until he was halfway relaxed, while she tied some shreds of cloth around his wound.
“What are you doin’ around these parts, anyway?” she asked.
Daniel pulled his hand to his face and felt the bruise on his cheek that was swollen, before resting his hand on his head. His hair was still thick with blood and mud, and he imagined how he must look to her.
“Prospecting,” he replied.
Annabelle stood up and wiped her hands down the pleat of her skirt, which was weighted down with the rain, and coated with his blood.
“Boy, did somebody send you in the wrong direction,” she replied. “Not much of anything gleams in Louisiana.”
“It was never meant to be my destination,” he spoke out of frustration, disturbed by the days’ events.
She took his glasses from the floor and wiped them with a cloth and then put them back on. “Life is just full of twists and turns,” she said empathetically as she began to pick up the pillows from the floor and tossed them onto a winged back embroidered chair.
Though still in pain, he was moved by her nurturing nature. He noticed the angle of her face with its rounded soft features, and luminous green eyes. She had a slender frame and her hair, half-way loose and disheveled, swayed when she bent down.
Emmett had been quiet and quick to his mother’s direction. All was well for the moment, but it seemed odd the way that this stranger was staring at her. So he propped his arms over the back of the settee and watched him watching her.
Daniel tried clearing his throat, realizing that he had been caught, but didn’t seem diverted by the added attention.
“Sounds like you’ve had your feel of the land as well,” he said as he glanced around the room that looked like a brawl had taken place in it.
Annabelle got up and began picking up the area, and placed the picture back on the mantel, even though the glass had been cracked into.
“The land, the air, the people.., you name it,” she admitted.
“Mostly the life, though. You spend your days dreamin’ of somethin’ better, but they slip away into nothin’ really.”
He tried to sit up, to feel some strength left within him, but his weakness was evident.
Then she grabbed a couple of the pillows and wedged her hand behind his back, helping him to lean forward as she propped them behind him.
“That should be better. I’ll get some elixir for the pain,” she said as she went into the kitchen and started mixing some ingredients from various bottles into a tin. Emmett followed behind her.
“What are we gonna do with him?” he asked, still too untrusting to have him remain.
She kept her voice low so that Daniel couldn’t hear. “I think he’s gonna be just fine, but we’re gonna let him sleep here tonight. He should be able to leave on his own tomorrow.”
Emmett peered around the corner into the living area and then back to his mother. “Good idea. I’ll keep a watch on him,” he said.
She agreed that they would take turns in shifts, so that they could both get some sleep just to be safe. Then she told Emmett to go outside and check on the horses, while she walked back into the living room with the herbal remedy in hand.
Annabelle went over to the sofa and handed Daniel the tin.
“Drink this,” she said. “It’ll help you to rest.”
He took a swig, holding onto the bottle and looked around at the formal setting still in disarray. She began gathering up the soiled linens.
“Looks like your hands got up and left you,” he remarked, although it sounded more like a question.
Her eyes followed his. “It’s all my undoin’,” she replied matter-of-factly.
Daniel nodded, satisfied with the answer for now, but asked what her husband might think if he came home and found him lying there in his condition.
She didn’t answer him right away, but let him ponder the thought while she tidied up the room a little more. Then she replied that it wasn’t too likely to happen, since he had passed away five years ago and left her with the legacy of her mother-in-law, who by the way, sympathized with no one. She explained how she was off to help generate funds for the war effort, but could return at any time.
Daniel’s expression changed altogether, and he gave an insincere smile, thinking about the possibilities, and yet delegating his response.
“I appreciate you nursing my wound. You are most kind,” he said.
She left the room for a moment and came back with another blanket and tossed it over his upper torso, leaving the rest for him to do on his own. Then she stood back and refrained from speaking to him more than seemed necessary.
“Look” she said firmly, “you can stay tonight and I’ll show you a way out of here in the morning. But it’s best you know we sleep with our eyes open.”
He adjusted the blanket, and draped it around his waist and then patted his pillow in place as it became soiled and dirty from his wounds.
“You don’t need to miss any sleep over me, Annabelle,” he said in too eager a manner.
“Yeah, well,” she replied. “I’m a quick judge of character and I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, even though you did try to steal my horse.”
Daniel appeared embarrassed, but not too ashamed when he teased, “If I had known it was yours, I would’ve went next door.”
Annabelle poked at the fire, removed the kettle and sat it down on the hearth. She pla
ced the knife inside her apron pocket.
“If you had, you’d be dead for sure. Get some rest now,” she smiled defiantly as she headed for the front door.
“Much obliged,” his voice rang out, as Emmett stomped his way inside.
There was words between them before the boy he went and settled into the wing-backed chair. Then he sat there, with his feet up and gave Daniel a stern stare.
As the hours went by Daniel had succumbed to a deep sleep, where all of his thoughts of the days events played on his mind. Everything seemed distorted, surreal and his subconscious allowed him to remain there, to feel the emotions, the anger and the relentless pursuit of trying to rise above it all. He kept attempting to rise higher still.., but his thoughts couldn’t take him there, until suddenly he began to plummet as though the security beneath him had all but dissolved and he fell rapidly.., until his body jolted awake and his eyes opened. He looked around and Emmett was asleep, his head cocked against the arm of the chair and snoring.
It was getting close for her time to keep watch, as Annabelle sat in front of the dressing table, combing out her long dirty blonde hair with brownish strands that conformed like an aura around her face. Her nightgown was sheer white layers, with a rounded swooped collar that cupped her breasts, and made her look ghostly and willing next to the dimly lit oil lamp that burned on the table beside her.
The rifle was propped against the side of the table when the door to the bedroom creaked open.
It was Daniel, standing there in the doorway, with his arm propped against it. His ribs were shadowed dark from being bruised, and his pants hung low against his stomach so that his pelvic bones showed. He was muscular with broad shoulders and looked full of strength, even though he was dirty from the battle. He didn’t seem as pained as before, but stood there as though entranced by the vision before him, and not too eager to speak.
Slowly, she placed the silver plated brush down and reached for the rifle as she dragged the wooden stock slowly across the floor. Then she lazily cupped the barrel with her left hand and aimed it at him.
“You make yourself at home real easy, now don’t you?” she affirmed with a smooth calm drawl, as she cocked it from where she sat.
Daniel took a deep breath and stepped back, but held onto the casing for support as he shifted his weight onto one leg.
“I just wanted to thank you again for taking me in like this is all,” he replied in a nervous gesture.
She held the gun steady and her voice was unwavering with a hint of sarcasm when she replied, “Why, it’s the least I could do. After all, I am the one that shot you, remember?”
Daniel nodded with a nervous grin as he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Then he gently mumbled to himself, “It’s a generous game she plays.., generous indeed.”
He stumbled his way back into the living area, shifted around on the settee and tried to fall asleep, with a whirl of pain upon his chest and more waiting for him in the morning.