The following is a continuation of Chapters 1 and 2. This continues the story of a seasoned man in a rural setting. But it's about how his beliefs have shifted due to factors and experiences beyond his control.
This one is dark and has no sex. It does have an after-rape sequence that may offend some readers, please don't read if you will be offended. Justice on many levels is provided in this story. But justice is served in the end.
This is a historical drama from the turn of the last century. In an odd way it is the same as it is today. Social upheaval, technological shifts that dwarf the social structure of the times, and religious shifts that play against the changes in society in Europe and the USA.
Take time and understand the changes taking place back then.
These changes are happening now with the same potential impact on society.
Instead of Steam engines and huge mechanized factories (think weaving/sewing and Grain processing...not cars) we have AI, the internet and social media (yuck).
Being a fledgling historian, I will be keeping this accurate to the times. This means racism, misogyny and at times domestic violence. They were not only tolerated but expected in certain stratum of our society. If you do not believe me watch a movie from the 50's THIS century. John Wayne and Scarlet O'Hara where he fights for 'love' and is handed a branch by an elderly neighbor woman to beat his new wife. Plus, John Wayne was a womanizing, racist too.
While my beliefs are opposite, I have spent time in various parts of our beloved country (USA), and have found misogyny, racism and hatred of the 'others' to be alive and well. They (Perpetrators and beliefs) may live in the shadows and darker corners, but they are there. They have peaked their heads out, as of late, but nowhere near what they once were...yet.
This story travels back to the 'Once were'...1906.
***
Changing Times Chapter 3.
He heard the water closet flush in the bathroom. A head poked out of the doorway to the trophy room and Sam looked half asleep still as she half leaned in the doorway.
"What ungodly time is it?" she asked with a bit of attitude and a lot of unpleasant tone.
"Half past breakfast, at least out here in the country Ms. Samantha." Drew responded, partially chuckling to himself.
"How long have you been up?" she questioned again with only a small amount of attitude.
"I usually awaken at 5 and feed the chickens, goats, and sheep. The dairy cattle are my cousin's responsibility unless he is off galivanting on 'vacation'." Drew shook his head. He had enough 'vacation' and travel during his war and Europe years.
"He will be here in an hour or so. He is out feeding his main herd at his place down the way."
"Five in the morning? Why?" she asked again, still standing in the doorway wrapped in the ring quilt.
Drew kept looking at her and could see honest confusion in her eyes. Like a 5-year-old that did not comprehend.
"The animals do not care if you are sick, tired, or grumpy. They need to be fed and watered twice a day. It is a simple responsibility, and one that you will have to get used to.
Then something snapped a bit in him,
"Your country prison has many positive and negative aspects. As Teddy once told me, "Embrace the positive!"
*
Drew sat on the edge of his mother's gravestone. It was not placed next to his father's grave, at her insistence...on her deathbed.
The last 20 years of their marriage had been something out of Old Testament biblical stories, fire and brimstone. His father had always loved her younger sister but was forced by circumstances to marry the older sister, his biological mother. The youngers death during one of the many waves of 'Russian Flu' had not shaken his love for her. Each Sunday he would walk to the youngers grave and place flowers, if they were available.
Toward the latter years of the marriage, the quiet 'proclaiming' of his love for another, soured any version of patience or acceptance within his mother. The last 20 years were a sad, cold, brutal life for his father. Being a stoic, his father braved constant comments and whispered belittling, from his mother, with quiet fortitude.
His mother had been buried at the back of the graveyard at Leatherwood Church, again her choice. Her grave was accompanied by the markers of the Grand Army of Republic (Union Civil War soldiers). Not many came back in any fashion that could be identified. In some cases, just bags of bones wrapped in a tattered uniform. They were all buried next to each other in formation with her grave to the right and set aside under the shade of an old oak.
He had come up to her grave to smoke his pipe and contemplate the last hour... and his future.
He had known it would be bad. Sure, there were lots of well-wishers and pats on the back after the sermon was done and Drew and Sammantha had 'renewed their vows.'
But he could see it in their eyes...they knew.
He could not fathom how the story was discovered.
He did not know who had passed the gossip.
He knew many in his community now understood his deep sadness.
He pledged to himself that he would find out who had caused the trouble today, and the pain that was spreading into his future.
The damage would not reflect on him as a member of the community. Marring a 'tainted woman' to provide a mother for his boys was nothing new. Even if they knew the whole story, he would carry no blame. He was male, a 'war hero', a good neighbor, and a steadfast businessman in the community.
In their eyes he was being a 'Godly and Christian man' by taking in this 'unholy woman.'
"If they only knew," thinking to himself. 'His Samia would have been looked down upon because of her orthodox Catholicism and the beautiful color of her Mediterranean skin.'
He knew he could hear the future sermon now, "Drew taking in this tattered woman that had been beguiled by Satan. This tainted woman that has slept with a 'colored heathen Muslim."
"Nigga Lover." would be whispered out of his ear shot.
*
He watched a starling swoop down and pick at the fall leaves.
"Drew," he heard called out. He turned his head and watched the Reverend walk up the slight slope until he stood quietly next to Drew.
"Did you tell?" Drew asked quietly.
"No Drew, I would never violate the sanctity of the confessional."
"Then how?" Drew asked quietly.
"I just cornered the oldest Gorley boy. He said he heard it from your cousin Joshua Kinley over at the Frog Town tavern. Joshua seems to have just been released from military prison. He just made it home a week ago."
"I won't even ask what that young man was doing at that house of ill gain," Drew commented.
"But I did." The Reverend paused looking at the same scavenging starling.
"He was making a delivery of corn mash for his father." responded the Reverend.
"So, its family," Drew commented and then paused, "I'll handle it."
"Curses on the navy and their inability to not gossip." Drew commented to himself.