Southern Comfort (shadoweclipse)

[dramamine213]

The damned cicadas were out. OUt and plasting their irritable song. Summer was in full swing and the humidity accompanied the heat. It was very much like breathing through damp cloths. Everything stuck to everything. No amount of powders or cotton clothing would save you from the sweat. Your only savior was swimming. And around these parts, all you had was Mr. Coulter's dry-as-a-bone 'fishing' hole. It seemed rather dreadful.

And it was as long as Mrs. Annabelle Beauclair lived. She wasn't a widower to be messed with. Just ask her husband. Or her previous four. It seemed as if she had a terrible luck with the men folk in her personal life. But only the ones who married the loon. She had several hired hands to do her dirty work around her family's plantation. The cotton and the corn wasn't going to grow themselves, now were they?

Being the type to shun the latest fads, Mrs. Beauclair had been ferried into town on her well kept buggy. Samuel, her house negro as she called him, drove the mixed breed dapple stallion at an even pace, steering around the obvious bumps in the road. The imposing black man, sitting a full head and half taller than his employer, made sure he kept his eye forward. She held her dainty umbrella high over her pale face. If there wasn't one thing Annabelle hated the most, besides them damned Yanks, was the sun. How she loathed it's heat and brightness.

Flipping an errant piece of her dark brown hair from her steely gray eyes, she looked over to Samuel. He was focused on the road as he should be. Arthur, his younger brother, ended up losing an eye for looking at Mrs. Beuaclair when she hadn't asked for his attention. Now, one might think that she was a little crazy and in the same vein think anyone who's work for someone so chaotic would be even crazier. Sadly, Mrs. Beuaclair had a vast fortune that her family had passed along to her when she inheirited the plantation as well as the fortunes of her pervious five husbands. She could afford to pay her workers well and that's why they stuck around. Even through the abuse, her dollars afforded her second class citizens luxuries and necessities for themselves and their families.

The pair reached the slowly modernizing town shortly after 4:00 in the afternoon. Mrs. Beauclair raised her white gloved hand, signalling Samuel to stop. Pulling gently back on the reins, the buggy came to a slow and gentle stop. The people in town knew of her strangeness and her 'violence' so not many were inclined to greet the woman as the passed. Still, there were several who did so out of having been raised right.

Samuel hopped down from his side of the buggy and rushed around it to aid his employer down. Taking a clean cloth from the seat beside her, he offered his clothed hand so she wouldn't dirty her gloves. After inspecting the cloth, she took his hand and made her way down the two steps to the dusty town street. The trip they took today was to purchase some pork and beef as they had nearly drained their holdings back home.

That was another quirk of the older woman. She also disliked going into town. Most days, she'd send one of her hired hands, but when it came to groceries, she had to go. She would only allow the best in her home. The meat had to have the right amount of fat or else it wouldn't store properly. It also had to be fresh and pleasing to the eyes. The woman was picky about several things, meat being one of the most acceptable things.

After a long and heated argument with the butcher, they were back on their way towards her home. She was glad to be out of that rank building. She always swore the butcher never cleaned the floors, much less his counters. Samuel guided the dapple stallion back to their home where they had a curious set of people waiting on her front porch.

Suprises. Another thing the widower hated. Not knowing or being informed was one of her least appreciated things in her life. And here, she not only had the unfortunate suprise of guests on her porch... they were on her porch uninvited. Mrs. Beauclair flared her nostrils and reached in the back of the buggy. Finding the stock to a well kept bolt action rifle. Pulling it from under it's blanket, she hoisted it up to her shoulder and cocked the bullet into the chamber.

"You've got till the count of three to tell me why yer tresspassin' here in my neck uh the woods!" she shouted at the three people standing on the porch. One was a city-type woman, her hair all gussied up. Another was an older man who had a familiar look about him. The third was a young boy with dark black hair. Annabelle thought she recognized the boy, but hadn't seen that brat since he'd been born. Her floozie of a sister had gotten herself all hitched up to a damned Yank and birth a boy. She had brought him around to her place before when he was really little, but this is why Annabelle was confused. Why would that brat and these two people be here?

The city-type woman shouted something and ducked behind the familiar man. The man wore a white face and raised his hands in surrender. "Mrs. Beauclair! Please, don't shoot!" he shouted. As the approached the strangers, Annabelle kept the rifle up and aimed at the trio. "I said you had till the count of three..." she said with venom in her throat. The man, who lowered his arms some out of fatiuge finally spat it out.

"Mrs. Beauclair, I've come to deliver Eric into your posession. His mother, your sister, and father, my brother, both died last month. The house burnt down while-" he was cut off by a laughing Annabelle. She lowered the gun, holding her side. "That bitch finally got it! I told her marryin' a Yank would get her burnin' in Hell!" she shouted through the laughter. The man and the city-type just stared at the widower. They couldn't belive what they had jst heard.

"Mrs. Beauclair, I'm Barbara Davis. I'm from the State. I'm here to inform you that you're the only kin available to take Eric in, unless you choose not to. At which point, he'll be property of the State. Do you wish to take him in." she said trying to get the laughing woman to calm down a bit. With all seriousness, and frightfully fast, Annabelle ceased her laughter and looked at the trio. "Of course I will. As long as the boy can work, I'll spare him the whip." she said in all seriousness.

"So how about it boy? Can you work?" she said to the dark haired boy. She aimed the gun a little lower, not fulling trusting the three here still.

 

[shadoweclipse]

Eric stood motionless as the malevolent laughter filled the air while the two panic induced adults attempted to plead with the furious woman. He had barely anytime to even morn his parents passing along with all of his own possessions as the state had picked him up before even a small funeral could be held. His mind was spinning and numb and this little incident was only adding to his trouble.

Guns were a simple part of society and a boy of his age had held and used one numerous times. But the fear of having one pointed in his direction was a knew one. Especially by the woman who was to be his new guardian.

This woman confused him oh so much. While he could never recall her the few times she visited in his youth, and he mother refused to give out an information on her own sister. The rare times the topic would come up she would immediately hush the boy telling him that it was nothing he needed to worry about.

However know perhaps some warning would have been useful for what to expect. He was not even sure how or even if he should greet her. She was a wealthy dignified woman and his aunt along with his new and only family, so his manners told him to look her in the eye and smile politely and give a warm greeting. Yet his instincts told him to continue looking at the ground and avoid looking at her or the weapon she wielded with a stance giving the impression that she knew how to use it...well.

He debated in his head as to what his options might be staying with this woman who would treat him like another common slave, or go to the state. Unfortunately, going to the state meant two things. Either be placed in a factory where death was always itching to take another child soul, or being thrown out into the streets and left to fend for himself and die in a gutter. No matter where he looked it seemed death was his only option. Oddly enough the one with the lowest risk was the option that included the crazed rifle holding woman.

He braced himself expecting a gunshot or even a slap if his instincts were wrong but he could not force himself to look away from the ground at her feet as he finally spoke. "Y-Yes Ma 'am, I can work, Im not used to it but I can try"

 

[dramamine213]

Annabelle was glad the boy had manners. Manners enough to look at the ground and address her as 'Ma'am'. That was a good start, but she was lying about the whip. It was her ultimate motivational tool. Smiling just a hair, she lowered the gun away from the small crowd. You could see their obvious relief as well as Samuel's. He honestly thought he was going to have to cut up a city worker and feed her to the dogs. Wouldn't have been the first time, but it sure did make him nervous.

"Unload whatever garbage that comes with the boy an' leave up awn the porch. I'll have that brat pick it up later." she said at the two adults. "And you, boy, if you do any less than what I tell ya to do, I'll be sure to mark ya good to remind ya always. You hear'n me, boy?" she said getting down from the buggy with Samuel's help. She uncocked the gun and placed it back in the buggy's cargo area.

Samuel, without a word, got back into the buggy and drove the dapple stallion around the side of the large home, towards the barn. He sure did have something to talk about with the other farm hands, but that would have to be later. Mrs. Beauclair would expect him back at the house soon to help Ellie May with dinner. You could already smell the cornbread cooking from out in the yard.

Annabelle watched the two adults remove anything belonging to the boy. She hardly cared what his name was. It's not like she'd used it anyways. She never liked her sister since they were small children and her harbored hate and angst would be directed to her only son instead. The older woman smiled at that thought of what and how she would go about enjoying this strange revenge of sorts.

"Ya'll are free to leave. I'd do so with the utmost attention to time and speed." she warned them. She would be glad to see the tail lights of their new fangled automobile leave her estate. Looking back to Eric, she pointed to around the side of the house. "Go to the barn and find Arthur. Tell'em yer new and yer lookin' to work." she ordered him. She didn't want to socialize with him for long. It would me much better to get his hands good and calloused.

 

[shadoweclipse]

Eric nodded as her words sharply hit his ears as she demanded him to either work for her or learn the painful sting of a whip. He could already feel the low feeling of being a slave as she placed him on the same level as them and would not even call him by his own name. He could not change his mind now. He could no longer see the dim light from the automobile. He was now stuck on this large plantation.

He had hopped that wherever he went he would feel at home and even some sympathy. His family had died less then a week ago. Within the course of a few days he went from being a model white teenager in a pleasant town. Now he was being sent to the barn to find slave work to do and wearing nothing but old cloths given to him by the state. That is what consisted of his belongings, one suit case with worn out clothing given to him.

He tried to think of where the barn would be. He had seen the buggy go around behind the house so perhaps that would be one place to look. He wanted to ask just to double check where he was going and who exactly he should be looking for. He then just nodded softly again as he kept his head down. "Yes, right away Ma 'am..." he softly spoke as he walked down that stairs. His steps were small and his movement was sluggish. His internal anguish was keeping him from noticing the slow pace.

 

[dramamine213]

Eric would eventually find Arthur feeding the various livestock Mrs. Beauclair kept on her estate. He was dropping hay off to the few horses she owned. Hearing footstpes approaching, the one-eyed negro turned to regard the noise. Looking the boy over, her raise the scared eybrow over the crude eyepatch covering his left eye.

"Ya look down, city boy. What you doin' lurkin' this ol' barn? The old nag in dat house up yonder'll have yeh shot if'n she finds yeh skulkin' round her parts." he said tossing another section of hay to the dappled stallion that pulled said nag. Closing the small window-like door to the manger in the stall, the negro dusted his hands and looked at the boy.

As Eric explained his new position, Arthur shook his head. "She dun sent me refuse an spects me ta make some grand fancy pie outta yer hide. Dumb ol' witch..." he cursed. Looking back to the white child, he handed him a rake and pointed to the stalls. "You goin' to muck'em out. Take it over yonder..." he said pointing to across the large yard to the garden area, "... an' be puttin' it wif the other piles of manure. Yeh got me, boy?" he said picking up a broom to sweep up the hay on the ground.

Arthur would watch and instruct the boy how to much stalls, groom a horse, and properly turn them out for the night when the dinner bell was rung. The negro and Eric would make their way to the home, but only on the back porch. "She dun let me eat in'er house no mo. Dun like me much, but keeps me around 'cause of Sammy. She gots a thing for him, but dun yeh say nothin' bouts it, boy. Lest you wantin' a whoopin'." he said eagerly chowing on the dinner of chicken stew and yeast rolls.

 

[shadoweclipse]

The boy sighed heavily as he held the rake and looked at the disgusting piles. He wanted to resist doing this awful task. But he knew that being new would cause him to have to do the worst tasks. He also knew if he denied doing any tasks asked of him, that insane woman in the house would punish him personally and find some of the scariest enjoyment from it. He sucked up his pride and began to shove out the feces into the manure piles that he was ins instructed to place them.

He followed him up the hill as he took a plate of the food. It wasnt too bad and for being a slave it was actually very good and generous portions of food. He was exhausted and his arms were sore. He wondered if the work shift was over for the night, where is it that he would sleep, would he always be treated like this?

He had trouble understanding the large negro who stood before him everytime he talk to him. He tried to listen as best he could whenever he gave him any instructions. He slowly began to comprehend him easier as he sat on the small porch and ate his food. "Who is Sammy?" he asked as he took a bite from one of rolls on his plate.