We made it to my room. We kissed all the way. In the room, she kicked off her boots. She sat on the edge of the bed. I also kicked my boots off. The spurs would have been murder on the bed. I took of my coat and then my shirt. She looked up at me seeing the scars across my chest. She started to ask when I said, “let’s leave the sad stories for another time.” I sat down as she stood up and pulled her dress off. Underneath she was every bit as beautiful as I imagined. Not that her sweat soaked nights working her press left much to the imagination. She was bare breasted with just some cotton drawers on. She climbed into my lap. She first bucked saying. “your gun is poking me.” I said, “my guns are over there.” I pointed to the table.
I caressed her left breast. Instead of the reaction I expected she seemed to tense up. She pulled my hands away from her chest. Candice reached down to my pants. I stood up and unbuckled the belt. She looked frightened from the sound. She backed away a little. My pants dropped. She started to shake. I stopped and sat down. I could see the terror in her eyes. I remember that look from the veterans of the war. Men who had seen the worst side of the war. She slid over next to me then hugged me. I don’t know why I said it but I said to her, “I will never hurt you.” I know I shouldn’t make promises I might not be able to keep. She put my shirt on and got under the covers. I went over to a high back chair. She turned to me and said, “tell me a sad story.”
I told her about my father. When I was twelve my father decided I had enough of an education. He said, “all that book learning was wasted on you boy. You need a real education.” By brother was set to inherit the farm. If I was lucky I would be able to stay and work as a hired hand. My brother had no interest in the farm and told me he would sell it as soon as the old man was cold and in the ground. My father always wanted to kiss up to the neighbors. They had an actual plantation with slaves and everything. We were poor white trash in comparison. He sent me over to the neighbors to teach me a lesson. The lesson was how to work hard for nothing. I spent about three months digging ditches, cutting firewood and working on the fences. He didn’t want his slaves to work on them just in case being close to the border gave them ideas.
Candice asked me, “what was his name?” I said, “I don’t remember.” He called me over and said I should learn my place. He called a couple of slaves over to us. Both men were shirtless and riddled with scars. He told them they weren’t working fast enough. He then took the whip and struck both with it. The lash was quick and nasty. They just stood there as if it was nothing new. He then turned to me and handed me the whip.
Candice gasped. She said, “you didn’t.” I said let me finish. I looked at the whip then back to these men. Both were older than me. One was maybe in his sixties. The owner said, “show them who is the boss.” I looked back to the whip and handed it back to him. I said, “you are the boss.” One of the men laughed just a little. He looked up angrily at them then he struck me with the whip.
I said, “I will never forget that feeling. The look of alarm in their eyes. This was something they had never saw before.” He struck me seven times then he struck them at least ten to fifteen time more. With one strike, he took the eye of the man I thought was in his sixties. I laid on the ground and watched this. Like a coward. That man was named Thomas and he was only forty-four. The owner later hung him by the neck to show what happens when he is disobeyed. They fined him for killing a slave so he used the money he was to pay me for the fine. I didn’t want his money.
My father however was enraged. I insulted the neighbor. A better. I spent the rest of my time on the farm sleeping in the barn. I heard that near the end of the war when the Yankees were approaching he locked his slaves in a smokehouse then set it on fire. He then went inside and killed his wife, children and then himself. No one made it off the plantation alive.
I looked over and saw Candice was nearly asleep. I just started to say anything that came to me. my goal was to keep an even tone to help her sleep. I said something I remember from when I was young. I said, “a man needs to be an immovable object. A man needs to be strong in resolve and fair in his attitude. A man needs to stand for what he believes is right while understanding he may be wrong. A man needs to pet the bunny. A man needs to feed the bunny beans.” Ok, she was asleep when I went into the bunny part.
These stories will be based in the old west and an attempt at a modern western (later on).
PDFs are on new Story PDF page
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