Chapter 2

It took a second to understand what was going on. The bailiff started to turn, perhaps sensing me behind him, but I was already swinging the hatchet! He put his hand up to protect himself but I caught him by the ear and there was a sickening thump as the hatchet buried its whole head in his. He dropped straight to the ground, dead before he hit it, some severed fingers falling like tossed carrots and his hand pinned to his head by my blade. It was over in seconds. It was all over.

Ma screamed. Ma screamed and screamed and screamed. It was a piecing high pitched scream that hurt the heart to hear. Eliza slipped and stumbled as she rushed to comfort her. Ma just kept on screaming.

In a weird detached moment of clarity I quickly grabbed the bailiff by the feet and tried to tug him out of the door. His boots came off in my hand and I threw them out of the door and turned back to grab his feet a second time.

It’s strange how, now, I can still sense how sweaty and sticky his feet were. I tugged and dragged and managed to heave the mountain of a man outside into the yard.

By now, ma was settling down and just sobbing, and Eliza cradled ma’s head in her arms and rocked her soothingly. I turned from them, embarrassed at Eliza’s nakedness, and started to panic, rlosing the clear, purposeful head that had led me before.

I saw movement in the trees and, realizing it was the kids, ran to meet them and head them off, hoping to keep them away from the body. Johnathon stalled as I approached, and I don’t think he’d seen anything. But he must have heard ma screaming. “What’s wrong?” he asked nervously.

“Go get pa home, go on! Tell them ma’s not well,” I commanded. They looked worried, so to ally them I added, “but she’ll be alright,” and then I waved and flailed at them so they fled away from the yard and off towards the farm that pa was visiting. Satisfied they hadn’t seen any of the truth, I returned back to the yard and pondered what to do.

It was Eliza who took charge. “Bury that damnation!” she cried, a cold edge to her voice as she pointed at the bailiff. Pleased to follow commands and not have to think, I looked around wildly for somewhere to hide it. I rolled the warm corpse across the yard and straight into the ditch on the downstream side of us, near where the outhouse was. With the wooden shovel used only for moving the night soil I managed to stab and hack a ditch in the soft clay river bank and bury the bailiff under just a few inches of soil.

I was a right mess by the time I’d finished. I found Eliza, still topless, scraping the mud floor of the house, getting rid of the last traces of blood there. In front of her broom was a pile of red flaky dirt and some fingers.

Ma was still by the fire, watching but not seeing Eliza’s scrubbing. She looked up at me as I peered in, though, and the look of fear on her face doubled. She trembled more, and started to shake mightily as I entered the house again.

“Eliza, keep that monster away from me!” she shrieked like a banshee. I stepped back, hurt and fearful again. Eliza pushed me all the way back out into the yard.

It was then that dad arrived, panting, having run home when he was fetched. He hardly noticed me as he brushed past and went in and I heard ma crying, sobbing, as he hugged her. Eliza and I looked at each other and I could see my fears for the future mirrored in her eyes.

Five minutes later pa came out and barked at the younger three to go play again. They had been milling about, hovering, trying to work out what was going on but not daring to approach me as I paced by the door and agitated.

Then pa took me firmly by the top of the arm, squeezing me so it hurt, and ordered me to show him where I’d buried the bailiff.

Eliza followed, her hand clutching up the front of her dress for modesty, and dad didn’t seem to notice her. I led the way and pointed the grave out. Dad grabbed the shovel and put a few more heaps of night soil over the mound I’d left, trying to hide some of the tunic that was showing through the shallow grave.

“Dad...” I started to plead.

“You ain’t no son of mine!” dad shouted angrily. Eliza and I both stood back, agape, shocked. How could he disown me now?

“Sorry,” dad weakened, suddenly looking scared. “Son, you ain’t no son of mine, and I mean it. You’re a bastard. That monster, that devil incarnate, see, came over on the same boat as us. Always gambling and drinking and hitting us, he was. And when he lost to me at cards, he got so angry he went into a blind rage and hurt me the only way he could” and pa waved back towards the cottage and ma.

“See, he is your real father. He knew I was sweet on ma, and so he raped her.”

Dad paused, tears welling. “So I had to marry ma to protect her. What would people say? People did talk. But I swore to forever protect her.” He sank to his knees and sifted the soil in his hands as his tears fell on it. “And then, when she needs me, I’m not here!” dad crouched by the grave and shuddered.

That was all that was said on that, but that short explanation expanded in my mind and has become a whole horrid story since.

Pa whispered “Your ma fears you take after him. You’re a killer.”

Now, I understood so much of the distance I had felt growing up. I had been unwanted and feared. It hurt my heart to feel I had somehow let them down and disappointed them just by living. I loved them, and craved that they love me back.

“He was protecting me! He’s my brother! He’s a good person!” Eliza started to shout back. Dad just put up his trembling hand to soothe her and quiet her down.

“That may be, and you can’t say it’s not a better world without that devil in it” dad sighed. He squinted up at me, thinking. “You’ve gotta go, Harvey, do you hear? Chances are no-one is sure where he went today, but a man like this’ll be missed. People will think he’s been robbed for the tax money. Take your stuff, and lead his horse away, and kill and bury it, too. You’ll be a dead man if they find you on his horse or with any of his possessions.”

And so, that evening, I scarpered – alone. Just me and the horse and the boots and the bloody hatchet, which dad never wanted to see, ever again. Eliza had given me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I had kept away from ma, and pa had just given me a nod before he’d turned and returned to comfort her. Johnathon and the twins had kept away from me, too, scared and not understanding, with no idea what had really happened that fateful afternoon.

I turned and went to get the horse that I’d hidden from the kids in a barn, and led that horse away into the darkness. Eliza’s parting words echoed in my mind: “You’re not a monster! You’re nothing like him!”

I had been out overnight, hunting with the braves, just a half dozen times. But it prepared me for my first night on the run. I had never cared for a horse before, nor any animal in harness, but how hard could it be? To this day, I cannot recollect if it was a mare or a gelding or what it was; I never thought to check. All I saw was a way to travel faster, and also a big problem that I had to get rid of as soon as possible.

I removed the bit from the horse’s mouth and tethered it to a tree and left it to graze in the growing gloom as I went to snuggle in my blanket under a nearby conifer. Unfortunately all the leaves around were soaking wet even though it hadn’t rained for days, so there was nothing dry to lie on. In the end, I gave up and crouched under a blanket like an Indian, a big wet patch chilling my back where I had tried having the blanket under me.

Of course, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Whilst packing and running I had the packing and running to think about, so I’d not had time to dwell. My predicament – finding a living or surviving alone in the backcountry – concerned me not a jot; my immediate fear was that I was a monster, just like the brute I had lately found out was my father!

How could my ma have ever brought me into this world? How could my pa have ever let me eat at his table? How could they let me near their precious daughters? I struggled to comprehend all the new truths I’d learned and I sobbed in despair. I spared not a thought for how I’d killed the man, but I worried deeply that I might be just like him.