Blake Calkin....THE central male figure in my series that all the women orbit around like the planets orbit the sun. Blake is driven in every area of his life. Ordinary is NEVER good enough for Blake.
He grew up in a seriously dysfunctional (a word that they didn't use in the 1800s) family. His father was an alcoholic. After drinking all evening he would come home and beat his wife. Blake's mother would lock Blake's door by putting a large knife in the top of the door. In his drunken stupor his father never could open the door. He had tried a few times.
From his earliest memories Blake hears his Father beating his Mother. He hears his mother's cries, and pleading. He tries, more and more as he grows older to open that locked door. He wants, actually needs, to break free to protect his Mother. It's an age old primal demand to protect your Mother. In a perfect world Mother is creator, protector, and friend. Listening to the battering of your Mother night after endless night is a hideous nightmare.
When Blake is in his early teens his Father's beating of his Mother ends when he kills her. Blake hears but doesn't actually witness the heinous act.
Now Blake's life which had been barely tolerable because of his Mother's selfless love becomes a living nightmare. There is no loving hand to lock his door. In the absence of his Mother his Father begins beating Blake.
Blake does not think to alert the police. He has been taught by both his parents that the police are the enemies. As a small child he was frequently coaxed to obey by being told that the police would come with the paddy wagon and take him away never to return.
The abuse continues night after night, week after week. Finally Blake realizes that he simply will not survive much longer if he doesn't find a way out. He gets a job that allows him to hide there. He sleeps in a stable with horses.
The day dawns bright when he knows that he must leave. He has left his pitiful poor savings in a rag under one of the floorboards in his bedroom. He thinks that his Father will be sleeping off yet another alcoholic stupor in the afternoon.
After retrieving the money he makes a hasty dash for the front door. Too late. His Father is awake, and angry. He doesn't understand why Blake has abandoned him. He begins a tirade about Blake's worthlessness. Then his greedy eyes drop to the rag in Blake's hands.
He rips it from Blake. Discovering the money he begins a tirade about Blake's selfishness, about his duty to support and help his family. Blake driven to desperation punches his Father in the face.
He is no match for his Father even in his drunken condition. His Father has spent his lifetime in barroom brawls. With a fearful roar his Father attacks Blake and knocks him unconscious.
Blake awakens to find his Father in a drunken stupor on the couch. Asleep he is still holding an almost empty bottle of whiskey. He cradles it as a baby would hold a bottle. Blake tries to stand up and his legs will not hold him. He realizes that one of his eyes is swollen shut. His balance is completely gone. The world begins to reel faster than Blake's aching head will comprehend..
Too weak and dizzy to stand Blake crawls to his Father. Carefully he draws the rag from under his Father's leg. The suspense is awful as he slowly, oh so carefully pulls out the rag to find, one small coin left. Blake seriously considers taking the bottle out of his Father's hand and smashing his head with it.
It doesn't take long for Blake to realize that he can't kill his Father. If he does he will be no better than the miserable human being snoring on the couch.
Oh so quietly Blake crawls into the kitchen. He opens the cupboard and find a mouse contentedly chewing on a stale mold covered crust of bread. Nothing more. Blake opens another cupboard and discovers a half eaten can of beans. This is also growing strange life forms.
Sighing he pockets the one coin that he has. He looks around at the only home he has ever known. He realizes that since his Mother's death it has been more hell than home. He slowly, painfully, crawls out the door.
Crawling is so painful that he passes out several times before he reaches the place where he works. As he crawls into the yard he sees his boss speaking his wife. Before he can say anything Blake passes out again.
When he awakens this time he is in a bed. The bed is goose downy and beyond any comfort of his imagination. He finds that he is in a clean nightshirt. He tries to stand up and has to lie back down. Weakness fills his body. He feels as though his heart is barely beating.
Mrs. Boss comes in the room with a tray. Blake says, "I didn't mean to make any trouble for you and your family. If you'll just give me back my clothes I'll be on my way."
"The hell you say!" The ladies brown eyes flash with anger. "Who beat you like that young man? He needs to be put in jail for the rest of his life! Why you're just a kid."
"My Father. My drunken, miserable, no good Father." Suddenly the years of sorrow come tumbling out of his mouth. He speaks so quickly that the good lady with the tray has to keep slowing him down to understand his words.
When he finally finishes the woman pulls up a chair next to his bed. She hands him the tray but stays in the chair.
Jamie suddenly realizes that he is starving. He looks at the tray and finds soup, pudding, bread and butter. Ravenous he tears into the food.
"Slow down boy. You will make yourself sick. I promise nobody is going to take the food away from you. Where is your Mother son?"
Blake stopped all at once. He put down the bread that had been in his hand. "My Ma was killed by my Father. She would protect me, lock my door so that Pa couldn't hurt me. He killed her several years back."
"Why didn't you get the police?"
"Because I didn't see him kill her. She had locked me in like she did every night. This night I heard the normal screaming, slapping, and shouting. Then there was one long drawn out scream from my Ma. I broke the door down, I wish I had done it sooner. There was Pa standing over Ma with a confused look on his face."
"Ma was like a broken doll. I tried to wake her up but she was still, lifeless." Tears began to run down Blake's face. "It was my fault she died. If I had just broken that damn,.oh ma'am sorry for my language, door down sooner well, Ma might still be alive."
"Blake Calkin, you can't possibly blame yourself for something hideous that your Pa did! You did NOT kill her. He did. So please don't waste any more time feeling guilty."
She continued quickly, "I will call on the police first thing this morning. They will want to hear this story from you..."
Blake cut her off. Bitterly he said, "The police will do nothing. Neighbors called them out before when they heard Pa shouting at Ma. The police said, "Unless the lady is willing to swear out a complaint there is nothing that we can do."
"Well things are different now," the kindly woman said.
"How is that?" Blake's head felt like it was filled with fog. He couldn't think clearly, not at all.
"Your Ma isn't here. I am. My husband and I will swear out a complaint for you."
Blake sat looking far off. "I guess that's right but I can't let you do it?
"Why not?
"'Cause he'd kill you and your family."
"Never mind that Blake. My husband and I are very good at protecting ourselves. I've been hunting since I was knee high to a grasshopper. I can shoot a rabbit poking his nose above the ground before I can actually tell it's a rabbit."
Everything changed. The police came and took his Pa to jail. Blake moved back into his home. He still worked but he slept well at night for the first time in his life.
He scraped and saved every penny that he could. Finally one evening he came home and looked around. He realized that it had never been home. His Mother had been his home. Since she was killed the place had been hell on earth.
He packed his pitiful few possessions. Next he poured coal oil all over the house. He lit two matches and threw them into the place. He felt peaceful watching it burn. He didn't even react when neighbors came to see what was burning.
Finally, the volunteer Fire Department arrived. Before they started to spray the inferno with water Blake stopped them with three words. "Let it burn!"
The fire chief tried to reason with him, "Young man you could sell the house and get money from it."
Blake turned and looked down at the man who was shorter than him. "It's my house. Let it burn."
Blake watched the fire until everything had turned to ashes. By then everyone had gone home. The novelty of someone burning their own home had worn off.
Blake walked through the ashes. In the middle of the foundation he kicked a burned timber to the side. He was stunned when he saw that underneath that timber was a bowl filled with coins.
There was also a note.
"Son, if you are reading this note I've died. People always asked why I stayed with your Pa. They didn't know the man I married. He was decent, kind, and a good provider. I don't know why he changed. It was like there was a switch flipped in him that turned him from good to dark and evil."
"Every time I could I put money in this bowl. I hid it under the floor so that your Pa couldn't find it. I figured that at some point you would find it. I love you Blake. I'm sorry that I did you wrong by staying with your Pa. I hope that someday you can forgive me."
"Marry a good woman Blake. Then do your damndest to not become the monster that your Pa became. Love Ma"
Blake stood in the ruins of the house that he had grow up in with tears running down his face. After a long time he brushed the tears off his face with his sleeve. Then without looking back he began to walk. He didn't even own a horse.
Walking into the closest bar that he could find he walked in and sat at the bar. "A bottle of whiskey please."
The bar tender looked at him hard. "Ain't you kind of young to be drinking whiskey kid? You ain't even grown a beard yet."
Blake plunked a $10.00 gold piece down on the bar. "I think this is enough to calm your dubious conscience barkeep. The bar tender didn't say one more word. He put the bottle of whiskey in front of Blake and walked away.
Blake started to drink. He drank, drank, and then drank some more. The world began to feel warmer, kinder, fuzzier. When he had finished the entire bottle he said to himself, "So this is how Papa felt on a drunken binge. I can see it's benefits."
Then Blake threw up on the bar. The barkeeper swore as he came running.
Blake stepped wobbily back from the bar. Suddenly the ground below him was gone and he was free falling into nothingness. He wondered if death felt like this. There was no fear at the idea of death, of annihilation. It was living that he feared, not dying.
He fell a long way. When he landed it was with a hard crack on a concrete floor. He was in a very dark room. He walked to the door and found that it wouldn't open. Pounding on the door with his fists he cried out, "Help, help someone. Get me out of this place!"
The door was opened by one of the most beautiful women that Blake had ever seen. "So, this time we have a kiddie, barely finished nursing at his Ma's teats. What do you call yourself lad?"
"Blake, and I'm not a kid. I'm a man!"
"Well Blake, lucky for you that you're a man. Where you're going now you need to be as manly as possible."
"What do you mean 'Where I'm going?'" Blake's eyes widened in sudden apprehension. Everybody in Portland, Oregon knew about shanghaiing. Men were taken from saloons, the street, one report was a man taken coming home from church.
"Wait, you are shanghaiing me?"
"You catch on quick kid. That will also be an asset for you! Unless... Unless your Pa or Ma has a great big amount of money. If they paid a big ransom I could see my way clear to letting you go."
Blake eagerly pressed forward. He held out his Mother's legacy to him. "I have $100.00 dollars. That should buy me my freedom!"
"Big Sal is what they call me kid. I'll go talk to the others and see what they think."
Blake sat on the cold floor shivering from fear more than cold.
It wasn't long before three men came in the room. They picked up Blake and started to carry him. "What a minute. Where are you taking me?"
One of the men laughed nastily, "Where do you think? It's to the water with you son. Don't worry, you'll learn to love the briny salt water that dries out your skin and cracks your lips open. You'll begin to enjoy shoveling coal into the burner all day and night. It's a hell of a life kid and you've just joined our ranks!"
"But I gave Big Sal my money. She was supposed to use it to buy my freedom."
The men looked at each other and then burst out laughing. "You give money to Big Sal? That's money you'll never see again. Big Sal wouldn't care if she had Midas himself land here. She'd shanghai him AND keep his money."
Blake started to strike out at the men. One of them said, "Hey there sonny. We all have guns. This is NOT a fight that you can win."
"Why, why do you do this? Taking away freedom from another human being? That is almost worse than murder!"
"Tsk, tsk," one of the men said. "So young, and yet so judgmental. There is only ONE reason we do this."
All three men spoke in unison, "Money." They laughed out loud.
Blake's heart sunk into his boots. He realized that he had actually gone as the old quote said, "From the frying pan into the fire."
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