Last night was Halloween. I don't care for this holiday. Apparently it came from All Hallows Eve or some name like that in Europe. In America it's a time that people think they are excused from normal civil behavior. Blake told me about last year when Monsieur Hardy, an elderly old man that lives not far from Blake, was in his privy in the middle of the night. He heard some laughs, and then the privy was tilted over. The poor old man could not get out. His leg was broken, and he lay amidst that stench, and horror for an entire day before Blake found him, and rescued him.
Acts of mischief include, rotten egging, privy tipping, wagons have been tilted on their sides, wheels have been removed from wagons, or buggies, horses have had their manes, or tails cut off....cruel, malicious deeds such as this. Oh, I forgot when somebody broke off the few headstones in our new cemetery.
I was awakened at about midnight, my heart pounding hard by several loud thumps against the front of my shop/home. I have a large cane that Red carved for me to use to protect myself. I put on my wrapper, picked up my cane and slowly, oh so quietly walked down the stairs to see what the noise was.
On the one hand, I felt like a fool to face this particular fear. After all, what if it was a person that had a gun, and had broken in to rob me of the $100.00 I had put away in a safe place yesterday? I don't usually keep money over night in my shop, but yesterday I was so exhausted, and Blake came and took me to dinner so I didn't get to the bank.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs I heard young male voices laughing, laughing loud and hard. Taking a very long, deep breath I opened my front door and brandished my cane while I yelled, "Go away!!"
Three young boys, probably eleven years of age, scurried away like roaches when a lantern is lit. I was left to survey the damage. They had thrown eggs at my shop front. Rotten eggs to judge by the stench. That was hurtful but I've lived with worse...and then...there was the WORSE...written in something dark, maybe grease, shoe polish, or the black you use to polish your stove, GO AWAY WHORE!
I slid down, way down to the ground. I sat there, on the ground, in my nightgown and wrapper and sobbed. These were just young boys. They probably did not even know what a Whore is! They had to be taught by parents, parents who view me as vile, and worthy of their wrath.
I wanted to saddle up my horse and ride through the night to Blake, to Red, to the ranch. At that moment my heart really, truly broke. I have no right to ride to the Drifting Anchor Ranch. Blake is NOT my fiancé, or husband. I have dated Blake, and he has helped me to get a shop. He has allowed me to love his boys, and help support them. Still Blake is firmly planted in the past with his dead wives, and probably will never leave them.
I wiped my tears, and rather moist nose on my sleeve, stood up, and then stood tall. I went into the kitchen, pulled out rags, and ammonia. Then I went back outside and began cleaning the mess up. I will NOT allow anyone else to see the message of hate. I will NOT give in or give way. I deserve to be here...in this country, in this city. It took me most of the night to clean the mess. Stove black...that is what they used to write...and it was almost impossible to remove. I put "elbow grease," into the job (that's why Blake says sometimes to his hired workers doing a task, "Put some elbow grease into it." Apparently it's an American phrase that means, work harder.
I did NOT want to open my shop this morning. I wanted to climb back into my soft, inviting bed. Instead I washed myself, dressed myself, ate something (can't even remember what), and then turned the sign from closed to open.
Immediately three women rushed into the store. Another busy day, but I found myself watching the women and thinking, Do you agree with those boys? Did you encourage them to do their action of hate? Are they your sons, or yours, or yours?
By the end of the day my head was splitting with pain. I closed the shop, climbed the stairs, and went to sleep...unfortunately, I woke up at 2 a.m. So here I sit with pen in hand, and pain in head. I'm going to take a tiny bit of laudanum (I will NEVER abuse it like Madame did), and get some more rest.
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