Listen to the Wind- Part Two
Listen to the Wind
Ryan woke up in the middle of the same night, overheated and itchy. His feet felt as if they were on fire and when the first thing he saw was the flames in the hearth, he had a small panic attack before he realized it wasn’t actually touching him.
Spencer was still awake and instantly reached out for Ryan when he heard his quickened breathing. “Ry?” he asked and Ryan grasped onto his hand tightly. Spencer felt like the only solid thing in his swimming mind.
Ryan struggled to sit up and throw aside the covers Brendon had so neatly wrapped him in, but once he managed, he sat panting on the rug a moment before either boy said anything.
“I thought I was being burned,” Ryan whispered at first. Spencer wasn’t sure if Ryan was whispering because it was night or if his voice was really that hoarse. He simply squeezed Ryan’s hand for support. When Ryan was far enough out of the bleary state he‘d awoken in, he leaned on Spencer heavily. Ryan had never been a particularly heavy person, but Spencer knew he should feel sturdier than he did and he reached both arms out from his blankets to wrap around Ryan’s thin frame.
Ryan murmured, “How did I get here?”
“Brendon found you,” Spencer said as if it should be obvious. “Said he found you out by the woodpile. Thought you were dead. Your lips and fingernails were blue and your feet were frostbitten.”
“It’s impossible to keep them dry without some kind of shoes,” Ryan lamented softly. He reached down to run his hands over the reddened skin. He jerked back swiftly and sighed. “They feel like they’re on fire.”
Spencer squeezed his arms around Ryan’s body a little tighter before saying, “Well, your feet always have been ridiculously big. Maybe we could get Brendon to cut off the most damaged parts and they’ll be normal sized when he’s done.”
It took Ryan a second to realize Spencer was joking with him. When he did, he didn’t comment on it exactly; only said, “He must be being good to you for you to be comfortable.”
That reminded Spencer and he pulled back his hand and reached into his pocket. In it were the bread scraps and mostly dried carrots that he’d tried to give Ryan through the window the night before and also a bit of potato that he’d sneaked earlier at dinner. “They probably taste like they’ve had an abundance of pocket seasoning on them now, but they should still be edible.”
Ryan sat up and all but snatched the pieces of food from Spencer’s hand. He shoved a piece of stale bread into his mouth and was fitting another piece in with it when he looked at Spencer. “You’ve eaten?”
“I’ve eaten plenty. You enjoy it,” Spencer assured as Ryan chewed hurriedly.
The piece of potato was almost past his lips when he spoke around his mouthful, “We should save some.”
“I have more,” Spencer replied. “One pocket for you. One pocket in case we end up needing it.” Ryan seemed to take the news slowly before consuming the potato at a more acceptable pace, though not by much.
“Something took the food I had hidden for us,” Ryan whispered. “I had put aside some of the corn we’d gotten, but I guess some animals like corn too. It was gone when I went back. That’s why I left you. I had to try to find us something to eat. I didn’t know anyone would find you. I figured I’d get food and be back before too long. I came back with some pecans, not many, but it was all I could get. The snow had gotten terrible and when I returned you weren’t there. I thought you‘d been found.”
Ryan was trembling. He wasn’t even eating the carrots in his hands. He was holding them very tightly and leaning on Spencer again. Spencer had his arms locked around Ryan securely, letting him take in his presence more than anything.
“I’m here,” Spencer finally said. “I’m here. You’re here. And Brendon doesn’t know. He thinks I live around here and got lost in the blizzard.”
“You’re dressed in farm help clothing,” Ryan commented. “He must be dense.”
“Sir, you must be mistaken. Can’t you see I am finely dressed?” Spencer replied with a small smile and Ryan returned it. Blind or not, he was pretty sure Spencer could tell it was there.
*==*==*==*
Ryan watched Brendon care for his feet the next morning. Brendon rubbed a creamy lotion in to them as he attempted to drag a story out of Ryan.
“And you’ve been of age how long, George?” he asked as he lathered more cream into the palms of his hands.
“Two months, Sir,“ he replied. “I just wish I’d turned of age during the springtime instead. It must be easier to find work then and room and board should be much simpler to come by with a little money to pay in return. You‘re the first person who’s been willing to take in someone so meager and bothersome.”
“I assure you, George” Spencer spoke as if he knew Ryan no more than any other man in town, “Brendon has taken in more troublesome guests than yourself.”
“Nonsense, James. You’ve been a splendid guest to have around,” Brendon claimed before turning to Ryan. “You should have knocked and asked to come right in,” Brendon grinned. Brendon’s smile lit up his whole face, his eyes, his entire countenance. “I don’t have much to offer and I make a poor host, but I wouldn’t leave someone out in the cold either. Look at James, here. I didn‘t know him either, but the man needed some shelter during the blizzard last week and he‘s staying until the weather is better. As long as you‘re half as polite as he is, my home is open.”
Ryan’s face told Brendon he was grateful so Brendon made sure to look away before he admitted anything to him. “When I first found you,” he said sheepishly, “I thought you were a runaway slave.”
If Brendon had been watching, he would have seen Ryan’s complexion pale, but Brendon was focused on the strips of linen he had prepared to wrap around Ryan’s feet, ashamed that he’d thought Ryan so lowly when in fact he and Ryan had come from such similar backgrounds they were practically the same. Next to him, Ryan caught his stammer before it escaped his mouth and took a second longer to compose himself before he replied.
“I look that bad, huh?” was all he said, making himself force a smile that he hoped looked less like baring his teeth than he felt it probably did.
Brendon looked up a moment and made himself smile in return, feeling some of the embarrassment from his mistake seem to settle in him. He took a moment to pull a fresh breath of air into his lungs before going back to his work on Ryan‘s bandaging.
“I came of age in the spring,” Brendon said when he finally returned to the conversation. “I just didn’t grow up here in Wildelow and the Ashbourne orphanage doesn’t immediately rid themselves of anyone who’s turned eighteen. I was allowed to find proper work first.”
“You’re from Ashbourne?” Ryan asked and Brendon nodded. Ryan only said, “I think I must have gone there when I was young. Sometimes I think I vaguely remember it.”
Brendon knew enough of his own childhood as an orphan that he didn’t inquire anymore into Ryan’s.
*==*==*==*
The next day Brendon made porridge for breakfast before announcing, “I suppose if we want to eat dinner tonight with any reasonable amount of seasoning on it, I should go to the store. Think the two of you can manage the place on your own for a short while?”
“I uh-” Ryan began, but Brendon kept talking.
“And my brother should be here soon. I’m not sure if he’ll be getting in today or tomorrow, but if he comes while I‘m gone, just tell him I said everything’s on him to care for.” Brendon made a face and grabbed his coat. “Otherwise, you shouldn‘t have to worry about a thing.” He tugged on his coat, pulled on his boots and opened the door before adding with a smile, “And if Bogart tries to get you to let him outside, tell him to forget about it.”
He had left right after lunch and had only been gone a few hours, but the winter sun set early so it was dusk by the time Brendon walked back up the icy path toward his small cabin. The long walk home had given him time to process the things he‘d discovered while in town, but his head was still in a flurry.
He stopped on the porch, hoping he hadn’t made too much noise climbing the steps. He knew what he’d probably find, but the sight still seemed to make him chilled inside in a way that the weather around him couldn’t.
Through the window, he could see his guests were curled into one another’s sides. They sat with their backs to the hearth, leaning against it and speaking softly to one another. Bogart slept in Spencer’s lap and Ryan kept a hand steadily smoothing over the dog’s head and ears. Both of their heads were inclined a bit toward one another and Ryan’s was almost resting on Spencer’s shoulder as Brendon had not seen anyone do before in public display. He noticed Spencer’s arm wrapped around Ryan’s waist and almost couldn’t drag his eyes away from the gentle way they seemed to simply mold around one another. Their legs were out straight, pressed against one another at their thighs and calves and separating before their feet where Spencer had been careful not to get too near to Ryan’s bandages. They looked more comfortable than Brendon had known either of them to look in the short time he’d known them and suddenly an overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over him.
Brendon’s eyes watered and he wasn’t sure if it was from the sight or the cold wind breezing past him. He stepped back from the window and took a deep breath of the icy air. Then he tightened his grip on the small, brown paper bag he held in his hand before setting it down at his feet to find the key. Brendon cringed and he made himself clearly jolt the lock around a bit before fitting the heavy key all the way in to the keyhole. Even once he had done that, he still had to rest his forehead against the door and regain his composure for a moment before he could bring himself to enter the house.
Brendon had worked hard to get to where he was. His life hadn’t been an easy one and though he’d always been provided for as a young boy, life at the orphanage had been far from ideal. He’d not known a lot about life and had experienced even less. Everything Brendon had, he’d worked for and was proud to call his. While others may not view his lifestyle or possessions as much, Brendon knew his riches and he didn’t part with them easily. His options in life had always seemed so limited, but the right paths had, at least, usually been clearly laid out for him to take and Brendon had taken every one of them.
He stood up straight and shivered before he gripped the front door handle and pulled it open.
As Brendon expected, inside the house his two guests sat a few feet away from one another. Spencer scratching the neck of a now awake Bogart and Ryan staring into the fire. Neither were speaking, but the feeling of contentment they both tried to force was so obvious Brendon hated to even consider if he would have fallen for it had he not known better.
Brendon closed the door firmly behind him and Ryan looked up and nodded a bit in greeting as Bogart made his way to his master. Brendon ignored the terrier and stood inflexibly before both his guests, gripping his bag tightly and not removing his coat or boots. His heart was beating wildly, but his face was steadfast and his voice was even when he said to them, “So, you lied to me.”
Ryan and Spencer both looked startled and their bodies instantly tensed.
“You do know each other, after all,” Brendon continued firmly.
Spencer cleared his throat before Ryan could and replied, “We do a bit now, yes. We‘ve spent the day together after all.”
“Actually, James and I are getting along quite well,” Ryan added, trying to sound as convivial as he could instead of showing how scared Brendon knew he must be inside.
Still, the name set Brendon off and before he even knew what was happening he was all out yelling at his trembling guests, “Don’t lie to me, Ryan!” he ordered and took a step closer to them both, “I know the truth about you! About you and Spencer! You both lied!” His free hand was raised and his eyes were dark. “After I took you in and trusted you in my house, you do this to me? Do you know what the penalty for this is? Do you have any idea? Did you even care?”
Brendon hadn’t even realized his voice was raised so loudly until it registered that his guests were no longer seated near the hearth as they had been, but were instead both in front of him, kneeling with their heads down by his snowy boots.
He could see that they were shaking and Brendon knew this time that the cold had nothing to do with it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Bogart sat beside him and sent him a sad, pathetic look before Brendon’s eyes watered over and he couldn’t see him anymore. He wiped them quickly and made himself turn around and take his coat off. He hung it by the door and then went to work removing his boots. Behind him, not a noise was made.
When he was settled, Brendon turned back toward Spencer and Ryan. He stepped directly back in front of them before gently settling himself down cross-legged in front of them. Bogart stepped closer as well, taking the opportunity to lick at Spencer’s hair before Brendon shooed him away.
From this close, Brendon could see the little things he’d missed before. Their skin was unhealthy from malnourishment. They both had scars creeping up their necks from underneath their shirts. Their hair was cut a bit haphazardly and their clothes were much thinner than he‘d initially thought. Both of them had their hands out, palms flat down and placed up by their heads. Scars wrapped about all four of their wrists from numerous restraints cutting into them in the past. And at this angle, the light reflected just enough to see the light bruising of a handprint left around Spencer’s throat. It was mostly healed, but Brendon knew what he was looking for now enough to not be able to un-notice it even if he tried.
Brendon sighed heavily and reached out to his terrified guests. Both of them jumped when his hands fell gently on their shoulder blades and Brendon was sure he felt his heart break when their shuttering bodies resonated into his fingers.
“It’s okay,” he whispered and tears suddenly slipped down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Spencer nor Ryan dared to move. Brendon wasn’t even sure if they were breathing.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told them as softly as he could manage. “I’m not going to hurt either one of you.” Brendon lifted his hand from Spencer’s back a little and moved it to his shoulder. “James, Jame- Spencer, please,” he sniffed, “Look at me. I mean, uh, just, just lift up. I’m sorry.”
Hesitantly, Spencer lifted his head enough to be facing Brendon fairly directly.
Brendon wiped his eyes quickly. He smoothed his hand from Ryan’s back to his shoulder and gingerly tugged for Ryan to sit up as well. Ryan did as directed, but kept his face downward, watching Brendon’s hands as they returned to his lap and Brendon wrung them together nervously.
“I’m sorry,” Brendon apologized again with a waver to his voice. “I’m just scared. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”
Puzzled expressions covered Spencer and Ryan’s faces. Something about that statement seemed backwards.
“They have signs up for you both in town. A lot of them, actually.” Brendon swallowed and looked them over as if he were seeing them for what they were for the first time, “Apparently, you two are worth a great deal of money.”
They were both rather remarkably striking boys. It wasn’t the first time Brendon had noticed, but it was the first time he’d truly thought about it. Neither boy was built or very toned, but were instead both lean and most likely would have made poor farm hands in the conditions they were in. Brendon felt he should have noticed Ryan’s feet weren’t tough enough to have been those of even an average boy his age, but were instead the feet of someone who hadn’t had the opportunity to use them often. Someone had paid a great deal of money for these two to work in more “delicate” situations and according to the signs in town, someone was willing to pay a great deal to have them back.
“They said you’re missing from Caoldale. That’s- that’s a good ways from here. Did you walk?”
Ryan and Spencer nodded mutely.
Brendon didn‘t even take time to try to consider it. Of course they‘d walked. Other forms of transportation would have been too dangerous and the risk of being caught that way would have been even greater than staying in the house of a poor stranger three provinces over.
“Who is this man that wants you back? How long have you belonged to him?”
Ryan looked up with his eyes and Brendon was startled by how he, someone who had never owned a slave, knew the look in Ryan’s eyes was asking permission to simply speak. Brendon couldn‘t help the way his hands reached out and braced themselves on the arms of both Spencer and Ryan.
“Please, talk to me. I want to know the truth.”
Spencer spoke up first. “Three years, I think, or close. We were gifts to him when he took over his father‘s estate. He owns nearly half the province, which affords him anything he wants. He has half a dozen other pleasures.”
Pleasures. Brendon knew that’s what bed slaves were usually called, but it was hard to see Spencer and Ryan like that now that he’d already considered them common freedmen. The word “Pleasures” seemed to suggest there was something magical about them or that they contained the ability to make it so that any man who so much as looked at them would be powerless against his desires for them. But Brendon had looked at them many times and up until that moment, he’d never thought about them naked. In fact, he was sure he was only imagining them that way now because that was how they were always presented in the advertisements, in the markets, in clandestine places Brendon had heard of before but had certainly never been himself. He shook his head free of the thoughts.
“Those aren’t your clothes,” Brendon said as the revelation dawned on him.
Ryan shook his head tersely and lowered his eyes again.
“Where were you headed?” Brendon asked Ryan directly as he sensed that Ryan must have been leading the duo.
Ryan only shrugged. “Anywhere. Far away. You were never exactly a part of our plans.”
“I would imagine not,” Brendon replied shortly. “The market only burned three weeks ago. You’ve been making great progress. Who would have thought you‘d be discovered this far from the market in Caoldale? Besides the one who put up those posters in town. Obviously someone knew you were smart enough to make it all this way.”
“We weren’t at the market,” Spencer told him, “The market is just near where we lived. The blaze made everyone run out without thinking clearly. There was little security and we were able to get away.”
Brendon nodded a bit to himself and seemed to take it all in. It hadn‘t settled with him yet- the idea that he was harboring runaways. He was sure he‘d never broken the law before. In fact, he‘d done everything he could to keep on their good side so that he could maintain his job and keep himself well-provided for. He looked over at Bogart who was sitting a few feet behind the slaves looking concerned. Brendon had to admit that it had been nice having someone besides just the dog in the house, but the company most likely wasn‘t worth the expense of his freedom. Even worse, he felt helpless. There was no way to rectify the wrongdoings immediately.
“Well, you’re here now regardless,” Brendon said, taking a deep breath and standing up. “And there’s nothing we can really do about that tonight. Don’t just stay there on your knees. That won’t change anything.”
Both Spencer and Ryan got to their feet awkwardly. Ryan tried to breathe through the pain of the pressure on the frostbitten areas of his soles, but Brendon didn‘t seem to notice and Ryan wasn‘t about to show weakness when it so quickly could be used against him.
Before, when Brendon had thought they were free men, they had felt safer around him. The laws protected free men and Brendon couldn’t have hurt either of them without serious consequences. Now, they knew all too well how the law protected them. The only protection it held for them was that if Brendon were to hurt them in a way that they could no longer perform their duties to their master, he would have to repay their master for his labor losses. Spencer was a walking testimony to the fact that their master would still allow a slave with considerable damage to continue in his everyday work as if nothing were wrong. They doubted anything Brendon would possibly do to them wouldn’t stop them from having to work as usual once they were returned to Caoldale.
“Give me time to think,” Brendon told them both before walking across the open room to the stove area and starting to prepare for dinner.
“Let me help you,” Ryan said as he began to make his way over to where Brendon was adding more pieces of wood to the stove.
“Sit down, Ryan. You’re going to make your feet worse,” Brendon said. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words were firm and Ryan knew an order when he heard one.
“I could-” Spencer began, but Brendon laughed despite himself.
“You could do what? You can’t see anything!” Brendon snapped.
Both boys seemed to cower back a little and sink into the floor next to one another. They linked hands and waited silently with their hearts beating so loudly they weren’t sure they could have heard anything had one of them even decided to speak, but no one said a word anyway.
*==*==*==*
It was hours before Brendon came over and sat plates of food down in front of them on the floor. He left and returned a moment later with hot drinks for them all before settling down onto the rug.
“I know people usually use a table for this sort of thing,” he commented, “But alas, we are below other ordinary expectations here tonight. Why bother with that one?”
Ryan and Spencer only waited patiently for Brendon to say more. They weren’t sure of their places anymore and silence seemed the best option in such an uncertain circumstance.
They ate in complete silence as well, but when Brendon had cleared the dishes, he didn’t wash them as usual. Instead, he went back over to the hearth and sat down near the two runaways.
“Spencer, come here,” he spoke and Spencer immediately knelt down a little and moved toward Brendon’s voice. Brendon grabbed his arm and guided him into a sitting position in front of him with Spencer’s back facing him before he took a deep breath. “How long have you been pleasures?”
“Since we were small,” Spencer began as if it were no big deal, “I guess we were-”
“I don’t really want to know,” Brendon cut him off. “I’m not sure why I asked that. That was stupid.”
Brendon reached down and pulled Spencer‘s shirt up from where it was neatly tucked into his trousers. Ryan looked down. They were at Brendon‘s disposal now. He could do whatever he wanted. Ryan had learned well enough from past experiences what could happen if he tried to intervene. He knew better than to even attempt anything, but that didn‘t mean he had to watch either.
Brendon raised Spencer’s shirt up to his shoulders and Ryan glanced up at Spencer‘s face. Spencer looked resigned. It was nothing they weren‘t used to, it was just something from which they’d hoped they‘d finally escaped.
Then Brendon ran his hand slowly across Spencer‘s back. No one said anything, but Brendon let out a defeated sigh. That’s when Spencer realized where Brendon was touching. He was running his fingers along the freshest scars left across Spencer’s back from his master’s games. The freshest scars were over a month old, but they were still pink and puffy around the edges. Brendon pulled Spencer’s shirt back down.
“You too?” he asked Ryan, but it didn‘t really make much of a difference at that point. Brendon backed up from Spencer’s personal space and looked lost. “They were supposed to be all old marks, faded by years and something I couldn’t do anything about,” he expressed miserably. “If they’d been old, had a former master given them to you, I could just return you to this man in Caoldale with a clear conscious.”
Brendon had known nothing could be that easy, but it only made it worse when Ryan reached out slowly for Spencer, his fingers creeping over the back of Spencer’s hand until Spencer flipped it over and let Ryan lock their fingers together. Brendon watched openly.
“I’ve never had a slave,” Brendon began, “Not out of some arrogant idea that I’m too good for them or some novel one that the entire industry should be done away with. Given the extra income it would require to sustain a slave, I most likely would go about getting one. As it is, I’ve just never been able to afford such a thing nor would I, at the present time, have much use for one. But I would imagine that if I did own one, that I’d have to grow callous before I could see them as someone I could hurt to get what I wanted out of them. I‘ve watched you two. Spencer a lot, but even you, Ryan, quite a bit these last few days. Mostly I watched you because I didn‘t trust you.” Brendon huffed a small mocking laugh to himself. “But I’ve watched you and learned about you and I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I know for sure that we’re the same. We feel the same things and want the same things.”
Ryan would have interrupted, said that he most likely wanted far less than Brendon presumed, but he felt it wasn’t his place to cut in on whatever Brendon was trying to tell them.
“And I, if I were in your place, would feel frightened right now. Hell, I feel frightened just being in my place, but I know that you two must be terrified.”
Terrified was probably the best way to describe it because what they felt was far beyond frightened. Ryan felt his brow furrow and suddenly it was hard to swallow. He looked over to Spencer who was clenching his jaw and looking somewhere between scared and utterly crushed.
“And I don’t want you to feel that way,” Brendon told them. His voice changed into almost a soft, concerned tone when he spoke. “I don’t want you to be scared here or around me. And,” he motioned toward Spencer as if Spencer could see him and then looked Ryan in the eyes, “I don’t want you to go back somewhere where I know that’s all you’re going to feel.”
Spencer and Ryan held their breaths and said nothing. Brendon wasn’t sure they understood so he clarified. “I’m not sending you back.”
There was no noise besides the snaps of the fireplace and the ragged sounds of Ryan and Spencer’s breathing. Somehow Brendon had imagined more hugging and less awkward silence when he’d played this out in his head. Despite the lack of emotion from the two, he didn‘t let himself get discouraged.
“I’ll help you get wherever you want to go or at least to get out of Wildelow safely,” Brendon said, “But we have to be very careful. If anyone finds out- finds out who you are, finds out that I’m helping you- it’ll be back to where you came from and this time I’ll probably end up with you or on some chain in a field or mine somewhere down south. The penalty for hiding you is slavery myself, but the penalty for running away is-”
“-hanging,” Spencer finished.
Brendon blanched. The penalty was whipping, branding, and the stocks; he was sure of this.
“Our master has enough money. He doesn’t need us. Slaves who run away are given a second chance, but we‘ve tried to run away once before. The second time, a slave isn’t considered worth the trouble. We’ve seen it happen before. He only wants runaways back so he can deal with them himself.”
“But, but-” Brendon sputtered, “He’s willing to pay all that money for you back. Surely you must mean something to him. He must want to keep you-”
“He’s rich,” Ryan whispered. “He’s very, very rich. He paid for the return of his favourite pleasure this past spring. He’d allowed her even a third chance, but after he’d found her trying to break free the last time, he had her hung like any other runaway. Her children watched.”
“Children?” Brendon’s eyes were wide. “Were they his children?”
Ryan scoffed before Spencer replied, “Children born to pleasure women are fatherless. They were sent to the market that same day and he brought home a new pleasure in exchange for them.”
Spencer and Ryan both had their heads lowered as they spoke. Brendon felt sick. He couldn’t help but to imagine if that was what they would look like if they were hanged- heads sagging down and bodies very still. The only things missing were the ropes around their necks, cords lapping over scars from previous punishments.
“Look at me, “Brendon said when he couldn’t stand the mental image any longer. He sounded more resolute than he had expected himself to be and both boys raised their heads. “I’m not sending you back. You’re safe from him. You don’t have to be cautious of me or worried that I’m going to turn you in. You can sleep soundly, okay?”
Both nodded ever so slightly before hoof beats and bells were heard coming down the way toward Brendon’s house. Instantly, a huge grin broke out across Brendon’s face. “Jon and Cassie are here!” he announced with excitement that would rival that of a child’s.
Ryan and Spencer were both wide eyed though.
“Calm down. They’re good people,” Brendon assured, “We’ll just tell them you’re my guests. Other friends who’ve come for Christmas.”
Their faces looked skeptical.
“Oh, don’t even act like you two can’t spin stories!” Brendon warned. “We’ve got this handled. They‘ll be gone in a few days and they won‘t suspect a thing.”
*==*==*==*
Warily, Ryan walked on his knees over to the window and sat below it, listening carefully as Brendon greeted the guests. Ryan needed to know exactly what Brendon was going to say to these strangers about him and Spencer. He had to know precisely what story to play along with and the extent of the details Brendon would give them. He needed to know how safe they were with these people and that all rested on how easily they would believe Brendon, buy in to his story. For this to work their stories had to match seamlessly. The freedom they’d worked so hard for was now within reach and whether they’d be able to reach out and grab it or have it snatched from their grips was hanging solely in their ability to sell this story to Brendon’s relatives.
The greetings sounded innocent enough. Brendon’s voice was high-pitched and excided as he bound down in the snow to welcome them. Ryan was fairly certain it didn’t sound as if Brendon had just discovered runaways in his house only earlier that evening or that he was in fear of all three of their lives. Then he took a deep breath and tilted his head so his ear was as close to the glass pane as possible as Brendon began to explain the situation.
“I have two friends staying with me this year, but they’re sleeping in front of the hearth so the loft is still open for all of you,” Brendon rambled as he helped Tom get the packages off the wagon. Cassie peered out of the back and offered Brendon a cheerful smile, but she kept still as little Willa slept settled in her arms.
“My goodness, she’s getting so big,” Brendon spoke gleefully and he craned his neck up to get a better look at his niece. “Doesn’t seem as if she should be five years old yet.”
Ryan blinked in surprise. Was that it? Was that really all Brendon was going to say about them? No one was going to question him about it or anything? It all seemed much too easy.
“And she grows like a weed,” Jon interjected. “I tell her to stop and she shoots up even further overnight.”
“She’s up to my waistline now,” Tom added ruefully, but smirked right after. “How’ve you been since last winter?”
Brendon smiled, “Still making no money and spending most of my spare time with a dog, I‘m afraid. My children, however, are doing well. Or at least they were last I saw of them. They’re shooting up like little weeds too.”
Ryan’s brow turned quizzical. He looked to Spencer across the room and whispered, “Has Brendon mentioned anything to you about children a family? Does he have a wife we know nothing about? He just mentioned his children to them.”
Spencer shook his head. “I’d ask, but first I’d have to admit you’re an eavesdropper and second, it may be a sad story. And third? If we were really his friends we’d already know that.”
Ryan huffed a bit and turned back toward the window.
Back outside, Jon extended his arms toward Cassie who placed Willa, blankets and all, in them and laughed as Jon became instantly weighted down by her limp form.
“She’s sleeping like a doll,” Cassie admired, but Jon turned to Brendon and made an exasperated face.
“A sack of bricks is more like it,” he corrected and Cassie shook her head. Brendon extended his free hand up to his sister-in-law and Cassie took it graciously as she climbed out of the wagon.
“I’ll be back to get the tree and to put the horses and everything away,” Tom assured them and no one replied, knowing Tom would take care of things.
“My guests,” Brendon warned as they walked toward the house (and inside, Ryan’s attention perked and his heart sped up), “are . . . um.” Brendon stopped on the top step and seemed to try to find his words. Ryan realized then that Brendon had brought the conversation nearer to the house with the hope that they would actually overhear it after all. It made something settle a little in Ryan’s stomach that had been churning since they’d been found out.
“They didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with so I told them they could spend it with us. They promised not to impose, but I uh, I couldn’t just let them-”
“I’m sure they’ll be delightful to have around, Brendon,” Cassie said with a smile and Brendon was reminded of how much he loved his family coming to visit. Jon’s family were all of the relatives that Brendon knew, but he was sure he was more blessed than some people who had a whole household of relatives packed in tightly and arguing and complaining about one thing or another.
When Brendon made sure to take a few seconds fumbling with the door handle, Ryan shuffled back over to Spencer and the hearth. Something about the idea of Brendon protecting them made him a delight to see when he walked back through the door. It made it easy for Ryan to grin at him as if they were truly the friends Brendon claimed they were.
“Jon,” Brendon introduced once they were inside and everything had been settled into place, including little Willa on a stuffed mattress in the house’s small loft. “This is my dear friend James and seated next to him is my good friend George. They‘re only here for the free sugar plums.”
Spencer and Ryan both smiled slightly and Spencer even held out his hand to the area where he knew Jon was standing. “How do you do, sir?” he asked and Jon took his hand and shook it before stepping over to Ryan to do the same.
The boys greeted back kindly, but Ryan would be lying if he said he didn’t think the way Jon looked at them was a little suspicious. Jon had looked at Spencer at first as a stranger, but almost immediately, he’d looked back as if he were trying to determine where he’d seen him before. It set Ryan on edge. Jon and Cassie seemed friendly enough, but Tom had walked in a few minutes later with a small fir tree for the table and even though he spoke to everyone as another member of the family, Ryan had no problem discerning what Tom really was. Unlike Brendon, Ryan knew a slave when he met one.
*==*==*==*
They had stayed awake, tying little ribbons to the tree limbs and cutting out paper stars and decorations for ornaments until late. Brendon had made coffee and the group had mostly been quiet, content to listen to the brothers exchange stories of things they’d missed over the last year. Jon and Brendon wrote letters to each other a few times throughout the year, but they only saw each other for the winter holidays. Generally, it meant there was much to catch up on and Ryan was relieved that it meant he and Spencer didn’t have to delve into another fabricated story about who they were or how they’d ended up at Brendon’s for Christmas when most people would have done whatever they could to be home with their families.
Brendon’s nimble hands kept cutting out small stars and snowflakes before passing them to his brother. Ryan had caught Spencer almost smiling to himself as he threaded ribbons through the small holes Jon was putting in the paper trimmings and Ryan was tying the ribbons before passing them to Cassie who placed them on the tree appropriately. Tom was mostly sitting there drinking up all the coffee as far as Ryan could tell, but no one seemed to mind.
At first, it surprised Ryan that Tom wouldn’t have to do some of, if not all of the work, but then he considered that this was the family’s Christmas tree. In homes where Ryan and Spencer had been kept before, they’d known slaves to be struck just for touching the tree so it made sense that even though this one wasn’t anywhere near as fancy or large as the homes where that had happened, that Jon maybe still didn’t want a slave to touch it. Ryan wondered how Jon would react if he knew the truth about him and Spencer.
Another thing that kept Ryan’s mind unsettled was the fact that Jon could not seem to keep his eyes away from Spencer. Every time Ryan so much as glanced at him, Jon seemed to be trying to hide the fact that he’d just been watching Spencer. Something in Ryan’s stomach churned at the thought. Jon had come a long way to get there for Christmas. Even though it was the opposite direction, Ryan had no doubt that wanted signs for them could have been posted between Brendon’s house and Ashbourne. If they’d posted them three provinces over in Wildelow, chances were that they’d continued posting them right on into Ashbourne as well.
When the tree was finished, or as finished as it would be before Christmas Day, they all said their partings and bid each other goodnight. Jon, Cassie and Tom climbed the ladder to the small loft and Brendon looked over and gave his two remaining guests an encouraging smile. The loft was open so there wasn’t anything Brendon could say that someone up there couldn’t still hear, but he hoped the message would carry all the same with the smile.
Ryan smiled back a little and the two boys went to settle on their pallets by the fireplace. Brendon breathed deeply as he retired to his room and closed the door. It had been an exciting day to say the least and there was nothing he wanted more at the moment than sleep.
Ryan however, had just been settling in a few feet away from Spencer when he’d glanced up into the loft to find Jon and Tom watching them back carefully. Both seemed to be watching them with intent and for a moment, Ryan was sure it was obvious on his face that he was panicking inside. He tried to school his face into a cordial smile and nod goodnight, but he had a feeling it looked as forced as it felt.
Ryan took a deep breath and went to whisper to Spencer that he didn’t think they were safe anymore, but about that time, Spencer made a familiar noise softly across the wooden boards on the floor. It sounded like the mixture between a rub of his fingertip and a scratch of his fingernail back and forth across the floorboards. It had been a comfort for them for years. It was a sound they had decided to use when they’d been much smaller, a sound that one could use and the other could respond with even when they couldn’t see each other or couldn’t speak. If one scratched lightly on a surface, the other could hear it and make the same sound back. If one listened closely enough, the sound could be heard across rooms and through walls. That way, no slave trader, no overseer and no master had to know what they were doing, but Spencer and Ryan could sleep better, rest easier knowing that despite distance the other one was safe.
Ryan understood what Spencer was trying to do. Spencer was trying to calm him down. Ryan hadn’t even said a word about how sick he felt over the house’s new additions, yet Spencer had been able to read something Ryan was giving off enough to tell that he was uncomfortable. Spencer had looked out for Ryan all of their lives and Ryan wanted to cry as he settled down into his pallet and tried to forget about everything long enough to sleep. He needed to be rested in case they had to make another getaway. Steadily, Ryan reached his finger over to the wooden boarded floor and softly scratched back.
*==*==*==*
Brendon was sure he’d been asleep no less than half an hour when he awoke to Ryan crawling persuasively onto his bed. He would have thought he was dreaming if not for the fact that Ryan was trying to act as if he were not in pain from having just walked on his frostbitten feet to get there. Dream-Ryan would probably be sexier than that, Brendon thought. Ryan pulled back the covers on Brendon’s sleeping body and reached to push up his shirt. The small fire that had been in the room was down to embers and smooth skin was barely visible through the tiny beams of moonlight that came through the small window above Brendon’s bed, but it was enough for Ryan to know where he was aiming. He leaned down and tentatively began to place soft kisses on Brendon’s abs and waist, trailing lower until he reached the top of Brendon’s thin, cotton trousers. Without a moment wasted, Ryan placed his fingers under the upper band and began to tug them down. It took a second for Brendon to wake up enough to figure out what was going on, but once the cool air hit, his mind was alert enough to push Ryan away, even if the first bit of contact pushed Ryan’s head more into Brendon’s bare crotch than away from it.
“What are you doing?” Brendon sputtered as he sat up and pulled his trousers back up in one swift motion.
“Please,” Ryan whispered. His body was held back a little more than before, but despite being hoarse, his words were bolder than Brendon would have expected from someone as seemingly fragile as Ryan. “What do you want? I’ll do anything, please.”
Brendon blinked and rubbed at his eyes a moment. It was possible he missed something in the time he’d been asleep, but he doubted it. Mostly, he was just sure of the fact that his guest who he barely knew had just climbed into bed with him and began making uncomfortable advances on him in his sleep.
“What happened?” Brendon managed to ask because surely something had set this off. Ryan hadn’t previously displayed any signs of being unable to control himself sexually.
“I’ll do anything. Just, please,” Ryan was still saying and Brendon had to reach out and grab his shoulders. Ryan cowered in on himself as Brendon reached forward and it made Brendon feel horrible even if he were doing nothing to feel guilty over.
“Ryan, Ryan, talk to me,” Brendon spoke and Ryan tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down. His body was shivering either from the chill in Brendon’s room or from fear, Brendon wasn’t sure.
“I have to protect Spencer,” Ryan managed to get out, but by that point tears had managed to surface and spill down onto his cheeks. “I’ll do anything you want. Just tell me,” Ryan spluttered out and made a shaky motion toward his body. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just promise me you won’t turn us in, Brendon, please, Sir. I‘ve-”
“Ryan, we’ve been through this. I’m not turning you in,” Brendon spoke calmly. His even tone sounded so grounding interjected with Ryan’s shaking one. “I gave you my word.”
“Jon knows,” Ryan told him and Brendon’s eyes widened.
“How?”
“I don’t know, but he does. He knows and-”
Somehow the dam holding back Ryan’s emotions seemed to break and suddenly everything was spilling forth- the truth along with tears, snot, and hiccups. Ryan wasn’t exactly the attractive boy he’d been just moments before, but Brendon didn’t try to comfort him. He could tell Ryan was trying to say something important.
“I’ve worked too hard and I’ve come too far to get us killed now. I told Spencer- I told him when we left that I would take care of him. He’s always taken care of me. He’s done everything for me for years. Always done everything for pathetic, weak Ryan. He’s looked after me if I‘ve been hurt or unwell, given me his food, even taken a few of my punishments. It’s my turn to look after him. He hasn’t always been blind. He’s only been that way since Summer.” Ryan gasped a bit and his eyes went wide as he tried to explain while choking on sobs. He was beaten one day and they hit his head really hard. Harder than usual and then he said his sight kept flashing in and out and a few days later he couldn’t see anything at all.” Ryan was wiping his eyes with his long fingers, but it wasn’t doing much good at this point. “When the family’s children came over for the harvest holidays, they made fun of him and played games that left him with welts and bruises all over his body and I knew they’d be back for the winter holidays. I knew I had to get him out of there or it would just happen again. I had to take care of him this time. And when I told him we could get away, he said to go without him. He said I was in better shape than he was so I should escape while I still had the chance. He said he would slow me down and we’d be caught. And I made a promise-”
Ryan had to stop to catch his breath and Brendon took the opportunity to reach and get a handkerchief from the dresser for Ryan’s face.
“I made a promise to him,” Ryan continued once he was much more put together, “that I would look after him. I’m not- I can’t let anything happen to him now. If we get sent back we’re dead, and then instead of saving Spencer I got him hanged. I can’t repay him like that. He deserves better.”
Ryan’s voice broke on the last bit and Brendon wanted to reach forward and hug him, but when he moved forward Ryan pulled back.
“Jon won’t turn you in,” Brendon whispered. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle me harboring runaway slaves, but I promise you, he isn’t going to turn you in. I gave you my word that I’d help you get out of Wildelow and I will and I don’t mean in chains.”
Ryan nodded, but his whole body froze the moment there was a knock on Brendon’s door. Brendon seemed to freeze up as well before Jon’s voice was heard saying, “Everything okay in there, Bren?”
The house was only two rooms. They should have known they couldn’t be that loud without waking someone, but no one could have known that Jon would have such exceptionally poor timing.
“Let me handle this,” Brendon whispered to Ryan. Ryan nodded nervously. Brendon got up and wrapped a sheet around Ryan’s shoulders before opening the door to his brother. Jon looked right past Brendon into the dark room to see Ryan sitting incriminatingly on Brendon’s bed.
“I need to tell you something,” Jon whispered to his brother in the doorway before looking past Brendon. “George, would you give us a moment alone please?”
Ryan nodded and moved to get up, but Brendon spoke up for him. “No, Jon, he needs to stay, I think.” Jon and Brendon eyed each other quietly for a moment. Jon looked dark from Brendon’s view, but Brendon was partially illuminated by the firelight across the open room. He hoped he didn’t look as unsure of himself as he felt.
“These men-” Jon started, then lowered his voice, “These men that you have staying with you. You introduced them as your friends. Do you know anything about them?”
Brendon took a deep breath. “I know enough,” he countered.
“You know where they’re from? Their pasts?”
“I do. Jon, they told me.” Brendon motioned into the room behind Jon where Spencer slept soundly. “They aren’t hiding anyth-”
“What are they even doing here?” Jon asked, his voice rising and more force behind it than Brendon had expected.
“They’re having Christmas,” Brendon replied. He shrugged a bit as if to say there was no other way to answer. It seemed obvious enough. “They’re having a good Christmas. With us.”
“A good Christmas with us? That one out there?” Jon motioned over his shoulder to where Brendon had just gestured. Ryan hoped they weren’t waking Spencer. “Christmas here? How did they even end up here, Brendon? This is huge!”
“I know! I know!” Brendon replied, trying to hush his brother. His hands were up and his palms were out toward Jon’s chest as if to get him to settle down. Jon took a step back.
“How long have they been here? Haven’t you even told anyone?” Jon accused and began pacing a bit in front of Brendon’s door.
“Told anyone?” Brendon cried and surely, if everyone had had not been before, they were awake now. “Why would I tell anyone Jon!”
“Oh, I don’t know Brendon!” Jon was yelling back now too. “Maybe because many people have been looking for them! Maybe perhaps because it’s the right thing to do! Perhaps even because you need the money?”
Brendon looked horrified. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from Jon at all. He and Jon could usually agree on almost anything of consequence.
“I couldn’t send them back,” Brendon finally confessed. “I just couldn’t send them back, okay?”
Spencer was awake and sitting up now, his arms and legs all folded up close to him as if to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Tom was peering down the ladder from the loft, watching the confrontation. He hadn’t heard Jon yell in a long time.
“Why not? Brendon, there’s no logic in that whatsoever! They belong back with-”
“No, no!” Brendon was shaking his head and his hands had become quite animated to go with his words. “I promised them that I wouldn’t send them back and I’m not going to and I’m not telling anyone they‘re here either! If we send them back now, they’re just going to get hurt, or worse end up dead somewhere, and I can’t sleep at night knowing I did that to someone. I refuse to do it! They’re in my house and they came to me for help and I’m not sending them anywhere or turning them over to anyone!”
Jon watched Brendon for a moment. In the middle of his declaration, Brendon had taken a few steps out into the open room toward Spencer. He kept glancing at him as if he were going to have to throw himself in front of him to protect him. A few feet off, Jon stood looking at Brendon with the most perplexed look Brendon had ever seen on him.
“Brendon,” Jon asked after he’d lowered his voice. “Brendon, what are you talking about?”
Brendon looked around his own home as if he were lost in it or had never seen it before. “I didn’t know their backgrounds when they came to me,” he said more calmly. “I just knew they needed my help. I may not be a doctor like you, but I remember enough that I can help people who need me. That‘s all I was doing. Then when I found out the truth, I wasn‘t dealing with strangers anymore. I was dealing with my friends. And I couldn‘t send them back. I don‘t care if it‘s the right thing to do or the legal thing to do. I have to help them. I promised I‘d help get them out of Wildelow so they‘d be safe.”
Jon’s brow creased. “Why wouldn’t they be safe? Is someone after them?”
Now it was Brendon’s turn to look puzzled. He tried to start a number of different sentences, cutting each one short and getting more and more frustrated with himself, before Ryan sighed from the doorway of Brendon’s bedroom. He made his way carefully over to Spencer and sat down next to him, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand. Spencer grasped his back tightly.
Ryan looked resigned. “Just tell him, Brendon. It’s okay. Don‘t let us come between you.”
“What else do you want to know?” Brendon asked as he walked over to stand near to Spencer and Ryan. From where he stood, he could see Cassie awake in the loft and holding a scared little Willa.
“Who is after them?” Jon asked, “Someone bad?”
“The master they ran away from,” Brendon said sadly. “He’s not like you with Tom. He’s abusive and cruel and they have the marks to prove it.”
“Master,” Jon mumbled to himself in an awed voice. Then he stepped closer to the rug where the three all waited and pointed to Spencer, forgetting that it made no difference. “Are you not Spencer Smith? From the Smiths of Ashbourne?”
Ryan looked at Spencer and Spencer’s face flashed over with a confused expression. “I uh-” he replied, “I honestly don’t know.”
“Ashbourne?” Ryan asked, but it was Brendon who looked the most baffled.
“The family you work for?” Brendon asked Jon and Jon nodded eagerly.
“Are you not the son that went missing from the Smith family in Ashbourne a decade ago? Spencer?”
“My name is Spencer,” he replied. “But I don’t know this family. I’ve been a slave since I was-”
“You’re nineteen? Twenty?” Jon asked and Spencer nodded.
“Are you saying you know his family?” Brendon asked in disbelief. He dropped down next to Spencer and Jon followed to sit near to them as well.
“I know his family, yes” Jon nodded. “I know them quite well. I’m their doctor. And they want him back very much.”
Ryan was looking at Spencer as if trying to take it all in. Spencer turned toward Ryan and Ryan caught him in a hug. “You have a home,” Ryan whispered into his hair and Spencer just held onto him tightly.
Brendon wanted to hug them both as well, but held himself back. He knew what it was like to finally have a home, but he figured to Spencer and Ryan this was something more, something he wasn’t a part of. And when he crawled back in bed a little while later, he fell asleep with the image of Ryan and Spencer embracing one another tightly in his head.
Continue to part three.
.
Ryan woke up in the middle of the same night, overheated and itchy. His feet felt as if they were on fire and when the first thing he saw was the flames in the hearth, he had a small panic attack before he realized it wasn’t actually touching him.
Spencer was still awake and instantly reached out for Ryan when he heard his quickened breathing. “Ry?” he asked and Ryan grasped onto his hand tightly. Spencer felt like the only solid thing in his swimming mind.
Ryan struggled to sit up and throw aside the covers Brendon had so neatly wrapped him in, but once he managed, he sat panting on the rug a moment before either boy said anything.
“I thought I was being burned,” Ryan whispered at first. Spencer wasn’t sure if Ryan was whispering because it was night or if his voice was really that hoarse. He simply squeezed Ryan’s hand for support. When Ryan was far enough out of the bleary state he‘d awoken in, he leaned on Spencer heavily. Ryan had never been a particularly heavy person, but Spencer knew he should feel sturdier than he did and he reached both arms out from his blankets to wrap around Ryan’s thin frame.
Ryan murmured, “How did I get here?”
“Brendon found you,” Spencer said as if it should be obvious. “Said he found you out by the woodpile. Thought you were dead. Your lips and fingernails were blue and your feet were frostbitten.”
“It’s impossible to keep them dry without some kind of shoes,” Ryan lamented softly. He reached down to run his hands over the reddened skin. He jerked back swiftly and sighed. “They feel like they’re on fire.”
Spencer squeezed his arms around Ryan’s body a little tighter before saying, “Well, your feet always have been ridiculously big. Maybe we could get Brendon to cut off the most damaged parts and they’ll be normal sized when he’s done.”
It took Ryan a second to realize Spencer was joking with him. When he did, he didn’t comment on it exactly; only said, “He must be being good to you for you to be comfortable.”
That reminded Spencer and he pulled back his hand and reached into his pocket. In it were the bread scraps and mostly dried carrots that he’d tried to give Ryan through the window the night before and also a bit of potato that he’d sneaked earlier at dinner. “They probably taste like they’ve had an abundance of pocket seasoning on them now, but they should still be edible.”
Ryan sat up and all but snatched the pieces of food from Spencer’s hand. He shoved a piece of stale bread into his mouth and was fitting another piece in with it when he looked at Spencer. “You’ve eaten?”
“I’ve eaten plenty. You enjoy it,” Spencer assured as Ryan chewed hurriedly.
The piece of potato was almost past his lips when he spoke around his mouthful, “We should save some.”
“I have more,” Spencer replied. “One pocket for you. One pocket in case we end up needing it.” Ryan seemed to take the news slowly before consuming the potato at a more acceptable pace, though not by much.
“Something took the food I had hidden for us,” Ryan whispered. “I had put aside some of the corn we’d gotten, but I guess some animals like corn too. It was gone when I went back. That’s why I left you. I had to try to find us something to eat. I didn’t know anyone would find you. I figured I’d get food and be back before too long. I came back with some pecans, not many, but it was all I could get. The snow had gotten terrible and when I returned you weren’t there. I thought you‘d been found.”
Ryan was trembling. He wasn’t even eating the carrots in his hands. He was holding them very tightly and leaning on Spencer again. Spencer had his arms locked around Ryan securely, letting him take in his presence more than anything.
“I’m here,” Spencer finally said. “I’m here. You’re here. And Brendon doesn’t know. He thinks I live around here and got lost in the blizzard.”
“You’re dressed in farm help clothing,” Ryan commented. “He must be dense.”
“Sir, you must be mistaken. Can’t you see I am finely dressed?” Spencer replied with a small smile and Ryan returned it. Blind or not, he was pretty sure Spencer could tell it was there.
*==*==*==*
Ryan watched Brendon care for his feet the next morning. Brendon rubbed a creamy lotion in to them as he attempted to drag a story out of Ryan.
“And you’ve been of age how long, George?” he asked as he lathered more cream into the palms of his hands.
“Two months, Sir,“ he replied. “I just wish I’d turned of age during the springtime instead. It must be easier to find work then and room and board should be much simpler to come by with a little money to pay in return. You‘re the first person who’s been willing to take in someone so meager and bothersome.”
“I assure you, George” Spencer spoke as if he knew Ryan no more than any other man in town, “Brendon has taken in more troublesome guests than yourself.”
“Nonsense, James. You’ve been a splendid guest to have around,” Brendon claimed before turning to Ryan. “You should have knocked and asked to come right in,” Brendon grinned. Brendon’s smile lit up his whole face, his eyes, his entire countenance. “I don’t have much to offer and I make a poor host, but I wouldn’t leave someone out in the cold either. Look at James, here. I didn‘t know him either, but the man needed some shelter during the blizzard last week and he‘s staying until the weather is better. As long as you‘re half as polite as he is, my home is open.”
Ryan’s face told Brendon he was grateful so Brendon made sure to look away before he admitted anything to him. “When I first found you,” he said sheepishly, “I thought you were a runaway slave.”
If Brendon had been watching, he would have seen Ryan’s complexion pale, but Brendon was focused on the strips of linen he had prepared to wrap around Ryan’s feet, ashamed that he’d thought Ryan so lowly when in fact he and Ryan had come from such similar backgrounds they were practically the same. Next to him, Ryan caught his stammer before it escaped his mouth and took a second longer to compose himself before he replied.
“I look that bad, huh?” was all he said, making himself force a smile that he hoped looked less like baring his teeth than he felt it probably did.
Brendon looked up a moment and made himself smile in return, feeling some of the embarrassment from his mistake seem to settle in him. He took a moment to pull a fresh breath of air into his lungs before going back to his work on Ryan‘s bandaging.
“I came of age in the spring,” Brendon said when he finally returned to the conversation. “I just didn’t grow up here in Wildelow and the Ashbourne orphanage doesn’t immediately rid themselves of anyone who’s turned eighteen. I was allowed to find proper work first.”
“You’re from Ashbourne?” Ryan asked and Brendon nodded. Ryan only said, “I think I must have gone there when I was young. Sometimes I think I vaguely remember it.”
Brendon knew enough of his own childhood as an orphan that he didn’t inquire anymore into Ryan’s.
*==*==*==*
The next day Brendon made porridge for breakfast before announcing, “I suppose if we want to eat dinner tonight with any reasonable amount of seasoning on it, I should go to the store. Think the two of you can manage the place on your own for a short while?”
“I uh-” Ryan began, but Brendon kept talking.
“And my brother should be here soon. I’m not sure if he’ll be getting in today or tomorrow, but if he comes while I‘m gone, just tell him I said everything’s on him to care for.” Brendon made a face and grabbed his coat. “Otherwise, you shouldn‘t have to worry about a thing.” He tugged on his coat, pulled on his boots and opened the door before adding with a smile, “And if Bogart tries to get you to let him outside, tell him to forget about it.”
He had left right after lunch and had only been gone a few hours, but the winter sun set early so it was dusk by the time Brendon walked back up the icy path toward his small cabin. The long walk home had given him time to process the things he‘d discovered while in town, but his head was still in a flurry.
He stopped on the porch, hoping he hadn’t made too much noise climbing the steps. He knew what he’d probably find, but the sight still seemed to make him chilled inside in a way that the weather around him couldn’t.
Through the window, he could see his guests were curled into one another’s sides. They sat with their backs to the hearth, leaning against it and speaking softly to one another. Bogart slept in Spencer’s lap and Ryan kept a hand steadily smoothing over the dog’s head and ears. Both of their heads were inclined a bit toward one another and Ryan’s was almost resting on Spencer’s shoulder as Brendon had not seen anyone do before in public display. He noticed Spencer’s arm wrapped around Ryan’s waist and almost couldn’t drag his eyes away from the gentle way they seemed to simply mold around one another. Their legs were out straight, pressed against one another at their thighs and calves and separating before their feet where Spencer had been careful not to get too near to Ryan’s bandages. They looked more comfortable than Brendon had known either of them to look in the short time he’d known them and suddenly an overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over him.
Brendon’s eyes watered and he wasn’t sure if it was from the sight or the cold wind breezing past him. He stepped back from the window and took a deep breath of the icy air. Then he tightened his grip on the small, brown paper bag he held in his hand before setting it down at his feet to find the key. Brendon cringed and he made himself clearly jolt the lock around a bit before fitting the heavy key all the way in to the keyhole. Even once he had done that, he still had to rest his forehead against the door and regain his composure for a moment before he could bring himself to enter the house.
Brendon had worked hard to get to where he was. His life hadn’t been an easy one and though he’d always been provided for as a young boy, life at the orphanage had been far from ideal. He’d not known a lot about life and had experienced even less. Everything Brendon had, he’d worked for and was proud to call his. While others may not view his lifestyle or possessions as much, Brendon knew his riches and he didn’t part with them easily. His options in life had always seemed so limited, but the right paths had, at least, usually been clearly laid out for him to take and Brendon had taken every one of them.
He stood up straight and shivered before he gripped the front door handle and pulled it open.
As Brendon expected, inside the house his two guests sat a few feet away from one another. Spencer scratching the neck of a now awake Bogart and Ryan staring into the fire. Neither were speaking, but the feeling of contentment they both tried to force was so obvious Brendon hated to even consider if he would have fallen for it had he not known better.
Brendon closed the door firmly behind him and Ryan looked up and nodded a bit in greeting as Bogart made his way to his master. Brendon ignored the terrier and stood inflexibly before both his guests, gripping his bag tightly and not removing his coat or boots. His heart was beating wildly, but his face was steadfast and his voice was even when he said to them, “So, you lied to me.”
Ryan and Spencer both looked startled and their bodies instantly tensed.
“You do know each other, after all,” Brendon continued firmly.
Spencer cleared his throat before Ryan could and replied, “We do a bit now, yes. We‘ve spent the day together after all.”
“Actually, James and I are getting along quite well,” Ryan added, trying to sound as convivial as he could instead of showing how scared Brendon knew he must be inside.
Still, the name set Brendon off and before he even knew what was happening he was all out yelling at his trembling guests, “Don’t lie to me, Ryan!” he ordered and took a step closer to them both, “I know the truth about you! About you and Spencer! You both lied!” His free hand was raised and his eyes were dark. “After I took you in and trusted you in my house, you do this to me? Do you know what the penalty for this is? Do you have any idea? Did you even care?”
Brendon hadn’t even realized his voice was raised so loudly until it registered that his guests were no longer seated near the hearth as they had been, but were instead both in front of him, kneeling with their heads down by his snowy boots.
He could see that they were shaking and Brendon knew this time that the cold had nothing to do with it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Bogart sat beside him and sent him a sad, pathetic look before Brendon’s eyes watered over and he couldn’t see him anymore. He wiped them quickly and made himself turn around and take his coat off. He hung it by the door and then went to work removing his boots. Behind him, not a noise was made.
When he was settled, Brendon turned back toward Spencer and Ryan. He stepped directly back in front of them before gently settling himself down cross-legged in front of them. Bogart stepped closer as well, taking the opportunity to lick at Spencer’s hair before Brendon shooed him away.
From this close, Brendon could see the little things he’d missed before. Their skin was unhealthy from malnourishment. They both had scars creeping up their necks from underneath their shirts. Their hair was cut a bit haphazardly and their clothes were much thinner than he‘d initially thought. Both of them had their hands out, palms flat down and placed up by their heads. Scars wrapped about all four of their wrists from numerous restraints cutting into them in the past. And at this angle, the light reflected just enough to see the light bruising of a handprint left around Spencer’s throat. It was mostly healed, but Brendon knew what he was looking for now enough to not be able to un-notice it even if he tried.
Brendon sighed heavily and reached out to his terrified guests. Both of them jumped when his hands fell gently on their shoulder blades and Brendon was sure he felt his heart break when their shuttering bodies resonated into his fingers.
“It’s okay,” he whispered and tears suddenly slipped down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Spencer nor Ryan dared to move. Brendon wasn’t even sure if they were breathing.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told them as softly as he could manage. “I’m not going to hurt either one of you.” Brendon lifted his hand from Spencer’s back a little and moved it to his shoulder. “James, Jame- Spencer, please,” he sniffed, “Look at me. I mean, uh, just, just lift up. I’m sorry.”
Hesitantly, Spencer lifted his head enough to be facing Brendon fairly directly.
Brendon wiped his eyes quickly. He smoothed his hand from Ryan’s back to his shoulder and gingerly tugged for Ryan to sit up as well. Ryan did as directed, but kept his face downward, watching Brendon’s hands as they returned to his lap and Brendon wrung them together nervously.
“I’m sorry,” Brendon apologized again with a waver to his voice. “I’m just scared. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”
Puzzled expressions covered Spencer and Ryan’s faces. Something about that statement seemed backwards.
“They have signs up for you both in town. A lot of them, actually.” Brendon swallowed and looked them over as if he were seeing them for what they were for the first time, “Apparently, you two are worth a great deal of money.”
They were both rather remarkably striking boys. It wasn’t the first time Brendon had noticed, but it was the first time he’d truly thought about it. Neither boy was built or very toned, but were instead both lean and most likely would have made poor farm hands in the conditions they were in. Brendon felt he should have noticed Ryan’s feet weren’t tough enough to have been those of even an average boy his age, but were instead the feet of someone who hadn’t had the opportunity to use them often. Someone had paid a great deal of money for these two to work in more “delicate” situations and according to the signs in town, someone was willing to pay a great deal to have them back.
“They said you’re missing from Caoldale. That’s- that’s a good ways from here. Did you walk?”
Ryan and Spencer nodded mutely.
Brendon didn‘t even take time to try to consider it. Of course they‘d walked. Other forms of transportation would have been too dangerous and the risk of being caught that way would have been even greater than staying in the house of a poor stranger three provinces over.
“Who is this man that wants you back? How long have you belonged to him?”
Ryan looked up with his eyes and Brendon was startled by how he, someone who had never owned a slave, knew the look in Ryan’s eyes was asking permission to simply speak. Brendon couldn‘t help the way his hands reached out and braced themselves on the arms of both Spencer and Ryan.
“Please, talk to me. I want to know the truth.”
Spencer spoke up first. “Three years, I think, or close. We were gifts to him when he took over his father‘s estate. He owns nearly half the province, which affords him anything he wants. He has half a dozen other pleasures.”
Pleasures. Brendon knew that’s what bed slaves were usually called, but it was hard to see Spencer and Ryan like that now that he’d already considered them common freedmen. The word “Pleasures” seemed to suggest there was something magical about them or that they contained the ability to make it so that any man who so much as looked at them would be powerless against his desires for them. But Brendon had looked at them many times and up until that moment, he’d never thought about them naked. In fact, he was sure he was only imagining them that way now because that was how they were always presented in the advertisements, in the markets, in clandestine places Brendon had heard of before but had certainly never been himself. He shook his head free of the thoughts.
“Those aren’t your clothes,” Brendon said as the revelation dawned on him.
Ryan shook his head tersely and lowered his eyes again.
“Where were you headed?” Brendon asked Ryan directly as he sensed that Ryan must have been leading the duo.
Ryan only shrugged. “Anywhere. Far away. You were never exactly a part of our plans.”
“I would imagine not,” Brendon replied shortly. “The market only burned three weeks ago. You’ve been making great progress. Who would have thought you‘d be discovered this far from the market in Caoldale? Besides the one who put up those posters in town. Obviously someone knew you were smart enough to make it all this way.”
“We weren’t at the market,” Spencer told him, “The market is just near where we lived. The blaze made everyone run out without thinking clearly. There was little security and we were able to get away.”
Brendon nodded a bit to himself and seemed to take it all in. It hadn‘t settled with him yet- the idea that he was harboring runaways. He was sure he‘d never broken the law before. In fact, he‘d done everything he could to keep on their good side so that he could maintain his job and keep himself well-provided for. He looked over at Bogart who was sitting a few feet behind the slaves looking concerned. Brendon had to admit that it had been nice having someone besides just the dog in the house, but the company most likely wasn‘t worth the expense of his freedom. Even worse, he felt helpless. There was no way to rectify the wrongdoings immediately.
“Well, you’re here now regardless,” Brendon said, taking a deep breath and standing up. “And there’s nothing we can really do about that tonight. Don’t just stay there on your knees. That won’t change anything.”
Both Spencer and Ryan got to their feet awkwardly. Ryan tried to breathe through the pain of the pressure on the frostbitten areas of his soles, but Brendon didn‘t seem to notice and Ryan wasn‘t about to show weakness when it so quickly could be used against him.
Before, when Brendon had thought they were free men, they had felt safer around him. The laws protected free men and Brendon couldn’t have hurt either of them without serious consequences. Now, they knew all too well how the law protected them. The only protection it held for them was that if Brendon were to hurt them in a way that they could no longer perform their duties to their master, he would have to repay their master for his labor losses. Spencer was a walking testimony to the fact that their master would still allow a slave with considerable damage to continue in his everyday work as if nothing were wrong. They doubted anything Brendon would possibly do to them wouldn’t stop them from having to work as usual once they were returned to Caoldale.
“Give me time to think,” Brendon told them both before walking across the open room to the stove area and starting to prepare for dinner.
“Let me help you,” Ryan said as he began to make his way over to where Brendon was adding more pieces of wood to the stove.
“Sit down, Ryan. You’re going to make your feet worse,” Brendon said. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words were firm and Ryan knew an order when he heard one.
“I could-” Spencer began, but Brendon laughed despite himself.
“You could do what? You can’t see anything!” Brendon snapped.
Both boys seemed to cower back a little and sink into the floor next to one another. They linked hands and waited silently with their hearts beating so loudly they weren’t sure they could have heard anything had one of them even decided to speak, but no one said a word anyway.
*==*==*==*
It was hours before Brendon came over and sat plates of food down in front of them on the floor. He left and returned a moment later with hot drinks for them all before settling down onto the rug.
“I know people usually use a table for this sort of thing,” he commented, “But alas, we are below other ordinary expectations here tonight. Why bother with that one?”
Ryan and Spencer only waited patiently for Brendon to say more. They weren’t sure of their places anymore and silence seemed the best option in such an uncertain circumstance.
They ate in complete silence as well, but when Brendon had cleared the dishes, he didn’t wash them as usual. Instead, he went back over to the hearth and sat down near the two runaways.
“Spencer, come here,” he spoke and Spencer immediately knelt down a little and moved toward Brendon’s voice. Brendon grabbed his arm and guided him into a sitting position in front of him with Spencer’s back facing him before he took a deep breath. “How long have you been pleasures?”
“Since we were small,” Spencer began as if it were no big deal, “I guess we were-”
“I don’t really want to know,” Brendon cut him off. “I’m not sure why I asked that. That was stupid.”
Brendon reached down and pulled Spencer‘s shirt up from where it was neatly tucked into his trousers. Ryan looked down. They were at Brendon‘s disposal now. He could do whatever he wanted. Ryan had learned well enough from past experiences what could happen if he tried to intervene. He knew better than to even attempt anything, but that didn‘t mean he had to watch either.
Brendon raised Spencer’s shirt up to his shoulders and Ryan glanced up at Spencer‘s face. Spencer looked resigned. It was nothing they weren‘t used to, it was just something from which they’d hoped they‘d finally escaped.
Then Brendon ran his hand slowly across Spencer‘s back. No one said anything, but Brendon let out a defeated sigh. That’s when Spencer realized where Brendon was touching. He was running his fingers along the freshest scars left across Spencer’s back from his master’s games. The freshest scars were over a month old, but they were still pink and puffy around the edges. Brendon pulled Spencer’s shirt back down.
“You too?” he asked Ryan, but it didn‘t really make much of a difference at that point. Brendon backed up from Spencer’s personal space and looked lost. “They were supposed to be all old marks, faded by years and something I couldn’t do anything about,” he expressed miserably. “If they’d been old, had a former master given them to you, I could just return you to this man in Caoldale with a clear conscious.”
Brendon had known nothing could be that easy, but it only made it worse when Ryan reached out slowly for Spencer, his fingers creeping over the back of Spencer’s hand until Spencer flipped it over and let Ryan lock their fingers together. Brendon watched openly.
“I’ve never had a slave,” Brendon began, “Not out of some arrogant idea that I’m too good for them or some novel one that the entire industry should be done away with. Given the extra income it would require to sustain a slave, I most likely would go about getting one. As it is, I’ve just never been able to afford such a thing nor would I, at the present time, have much use for one. But I would imagine that if I did own one, that I’d have to grow callous before I could see them as someone I could hurt to get what I wanted out of them. I‘ve watched you two. Spencer a lot, but even you, Ryan, quite a bit these last few days. Mostly I watched you because I didn‘t trust you.” Brendon huffed a small mocking laugh to himself. “But I’ve watched you and learned about you and I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I know for sure that we’re the same. We feel the same things and want the same things.”
Ryan would have interrupted, said that he most likely wanted far less than Brendon presumed, but he felt it wasn’t his place to cut in on whatever Brendon was trying to tell them.
“And I, if I were in your place, would feel frightened right now. Hell, I feel frightened just being in my place, but I know that you two must be terrified.”
Terrified was probably the best way to describe it because what they felt was far beyond frightened. Ryan felt his brow furrow and suddenly it was hard to swallow. He looked over to Spencer who was clenching his jaw and looking somewhere between scared and utterly crushed.
“And I don’t want you to feel that way,” Brendon told them. His voice changed into almost a soft, concerned tone when he spoke. “I don’t want you to be scared here or around me. And,” he motioned toward Spencer as if Spencer could see him and then looked Ryan in the eyes, “I don’t want you to go back somewhere where I know that’s all you’re going to feel.”
Spencer and Ryan held their breaths and said nothing. Brendon wasn’t sure they understood so he clarified. “I’m not sending you back.”
There was no noise besides the snaps of the fireplace and the ragged sounds of Ryan and Spencer’s breathing. Somehow Brendon had imagined more hugging and less awkward silence when he’d played this out in his head. Despite the lack of emotion from the two, he didn‘t let himself get discouraged.
“I’ll help you get wherever you want to go or at least to get out of Wildelow safely,” Brendon said, “But we have to be very careful. If anyone finds out- finds out who you are, finds out that I’m helping you- it’ll be back to where you came from and this time I’ll probably end up with you or on some chain in a field or mine somewhere down south. The penalty for hiding you is slavery myself, but the penalty for running away is-”
“-hanging,” Spencer finished.
Brendon blanched. The penalty was whipping, branding, and the stocks; he was sure of this.
“Our master has enough money. He doesn’t need us. Slaves who run away are given a second chance, but we‘ve tried to run away once before. The second time, a slave isn’t considered worth the trouble. We’ve seen it happen before. He only wants runaways back so he can deal with them himself.”
“But, but-” Brendon sputtered, “He’s willing to pay all that money for you back. Surely you must mean something to him. He must want to keep you-”
“He’s rich,” Ryan whispered. “He’s very, very rich. He paid for the return of his favourite pleasure this past spring. He’d allowed her even a third chance, but after he’d found her trying to break free the last time, he had her hung like any other runaway. Her children watched.”
“Children?” Brendon’s eyes were wide. “Were they his children?”
Ryan scoffed before Spencer replied, “Children born to pleasure women are fatherless. They were sent to the market that same day and he brought home a new pleasure in exchange for them.”
Spencer and Ryan both had their heads lowered as they spoke. Brendon felt sick. He couldn’t help but to imagine if that was what they would look like if they were hanged- heads sagging down and bodies very still. The only things missing were the ropes around their necks, cords lapping over scars from previous punishments.
“Look at me, “Brendon said when he couldn’t stand the mental image any longer. He sounded more resolute than he had expected himself to be and both boys raised their heads. “I’m not sending you back. You’re safe from him. You don’t have to be cautious of me or worried that I’m going to turn you in. You can sleep soundly, okay?”
Both nodded ever so slightly before hoof beats and bells were heard coming down the way toward Brendon’s house. Instantly, a huge grin broke out across Brendon’s face. “Jon and Cassie are here!” he announced with excitement that would rival that of a child’s.
Ryan and Spencer were both wide eyed though.
“Calm down. They’re good people,” Brendon assured, “We’ll just tell them you’re my guests. Other friends who’ve come for Christmas.”
Their faces looked skeptical.
“Oh, don’t even act like you two can’t spin stories!” Brendon warned. “We’ve got this handled. They‘ll be gone in a few days and they won‘t suspect a thing.”
*==*==*==*
Warily, Ryan walked on his knees over to the window and sat below it, listening carefully as Brendon greeted the guests. Ryan needed to know exactly what Brendon was going to say to these strangers about him and Spencer. He had to know precisely what story to play along with and the extent of the details Brendon would give them. He needed to know how safe they were with these people and that all rested on how easily they would believe Brendon, buy in to his story. For this to work their stories had to match seamlessly. The freedom they’d worked so hard for was now within reach and whether they’d be able to reach out and grab it or have it snatched from their grips was hanging solely in their ability to sell this story to Brendon’s relatives.
The greetings sounded innocent enough. Brendon’s voice was high-pitched and excided as he bound down in the snow to welcome them. Ryan was fairly certain it didn’t sound as if Brendon had just discovered runaways in his house only earlier that evening or that he was in fear of all three of their lives. Then he took a deep breath and tilted his head so his ear was as close to the glass pane as possible as Brendon began to explain the situation.
“I have two friends staying with me this year, but they’re sleeping in front of the hearth so the loft is still open for all of you,” Brendon rambled as he helped Tom get the packages off the wagon. Cassie peered out of the back and offered Brendon a cheerful smile, but she kept still as little Willa slept settled in her arms.
“My goodness, she’s getting so big,” Brendon spoke gleefully and he craned his neck up to get a better look at his niece. “Doesn’t seem as if she should be five years old yet.”
Ryan blinked in surprise. Was that it? Was that really all Brendon was going to say about them? No one was going to question him about it or anything? It all seemed much too easy.
“And she grows like a weed,” Jon interjected. “I tell her to stop and she shoots up even further overnight.”
“She’s up to my waistline now,” Tom added ruefully, but smirked right after. “How’ve you been since last winter?”
Brendon smiled, “Still making no money and spending most of my spare time with a dog, I‘m afraid. My children, however, are doing well. Or at least they were last I saw of them. They’re shooting up like little weeds too.”
Ryan’s brow turned quizzical. He looked to Spencer across the room and whispered, “Has Brendon mentioned anything to you about children a family? Does he have a wife we know nothing about? He just mentioned his children to them.”
Spencer shook his head. “I’d ask, but first I’d have to admit you’re an eavesdropper and second, it may be a sad story. And third? If we were really his friends we’d already know that.”
Ryan huffed a bit and turned back toward the window.
Back outside, Jon extended his arms toward Cassie who placed Willa, blankets and all, in them and laughed as Jon became instantly weighted down by her limp form.
“She’s sleeping like a doll,” Cassie admired, but Jon turned to Brendon and made an exasperated face.
“A sack of bricks is more like it,” he corrected and Cassie shook her head. Brendon extended his free hand up to his sister-in-law and Cassie took it graciously as she climbed out of the wagon.
“I’ll be back to get the tree and to put the horses and everything away,” Tom assured them and no one replied, knowing Tom would take care of things.
“My guests,” Brendon warned as they walked toward the house (and inside, Ryan’s attention perked and his heart sped up), “are . . . um.” Brendon stopped on the top step and seemed to try to find his words. Ryan realized then that Brendon had brought the conversation nearer to the house with the hope that they would actually overhear it after all. It made something settle a little in Ryan’s stomach that had been churning since they’d been found out.
“They didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with so I told them they could spend it with us. They promised not to impose, but I uh, I couldn’t just let them-”
“I’m sure they’ll be delightful to have around, Brendon,” Cassie said with a smile and Brendon was reminded of how much he loved his family coming to visit. Jon’s family were all of the relatives that Brendon knew, but he was sure he was more blessed than some people who had a whole household of relatives packed in tightly and arguing and complaining about one thing or another.
When Brendon made sure to take a few seconds fumbling with the door handle, Ryan shuffled back over to Spencer and the hearth. Something about the idea of Brendon protecting them made him a delight to see when he walked back through the door. It made it easy for Ryan to grin at him as if they were truly the friends Brendon claimed they were.
“Jon,” Brendon introduced once they were inside and everything had been settled into place, including little Willa on a stuffed mattress in the house’s small loft. “This is my dear friend James and seated next to him is my good friend George. They‘re only here for the free sugar plums.”
Spencer and Ryan both smiled slightly and Spencer even held out his hand to the area where he knew Jon was standing. “How do you do, sir?” he asked and Jon took his hand and shook it before stepping over to Ryan to do the same.
The boys greeted back kindly, but Ryan would be lying if he said he didn’t think the way Jon looked at them was a little suspicious. Jon had looked at Spencer at first as a stranger, but almost immediately, he’d looked back as if he were trying to determine where he’d seen him before. It set Ryan on edge. Jon and Cassie seemed friendly enough, but Tom had walked in a few minutes later with a small fir tree for the table and even though he spoke to everyone as another member of the family, Ryan had no problem discerning what Tom really was. Unlike Brendon, Ryan knew a slave when he met one.
*==*==*==*
They had stayed awake, tying little ribbons to the tree limbs and cutting out paper stars and decorations for ornaments until late. Brendon had made coffee and the group had mostly been quiet, content to listen to the brothers exchange stories of things they’d missed over the last year. Jon and Brendon wrote letters to each other a few times throughout the year, but they only saw each other for the winter holidays. Generally, it meant there was much to catch up on and Ryan was relieved that it meant he and Spencer didn’t have to delve into another fabricated story about who they were or how they’d ended up at Brendon’s for Christmas when most people would have done whatever they could to be home with their families.
Brendon’s nimble hands kept cutting out small stars and snowflakes before passing them to his brother. Ryan had caught Spencer almost smiling to himself as he threaded ribbons through the small holes Jon was putting in the paper trimmings and Ryan was tying the ribbons before passing them to Cassie who placed them on the tree appropriately. Tom was mostly sitting there drinking up all the coffee as far as Ryan could tell, but no one seemed to mind.
At first, it surprised Ryan that Tom wouldn’t have to do some of, if not all of the work, but then he considered that this was the family’s Christmas tree. In homes where Ryan and Spencer had been kept before, they’d known slaves to be struck just for touching the tree so it made sense that even though this one wasn’t anywhere near as fancy or large as the homes where that had happened, that Jon maybe still didn’t want a slave to touch it. Ryan wondered how Jon would react if he knew the truth about him and Spencer.
Another thing that kept Ryan’s mind unsettled was the fact that Jon could not seem to keep his eyes away from Spencer. Every time Ryan so much as glanced at him, Jon seemed to be trying to hide the fact that he’d just been watching Spencer. Something in Ryan’s stomach churned at the thought. Jon had come a long way to get there for Christmas. Even though it was the opposite direction, Ryan had no doubt that wanted signs for them could have been posted between Brendon’s house and Ashbourne. If they’d posted them three provinces over in Wildelow, chances were that they’d continued posting them right on into Ashbourne as well.
When the tree was finished, or as finished as it would be before Christmas Day, they all said their partings and bid each other goodnight. Jon, Cassie and Tom climbed the ladder to the small loft and Brendon looked over and gave his two remaining guests an encouraging smile. The loft was open so there wasn’t anything Brendon could say that someone up there couldn’t still hear, but he hoped the message would carry all the same with the smile.
Ryan smiled back a little and the two boys went to settle on their pallets by the fireplace. Brendon breathed deeply as he retired to his room and closed the door. It had been an exciting day to say the least and there was nothing he wanted more at the moment than sleep.
Ryan however, had just been settling in a few feet away from Spencer when he’d glanced up into the loft to find Jon and Tom watching them back carefully. Both seemed to be watching them with intent and for a moment, Ryan was sure it was obvious on his face that he was panicking inside. He tried to school his face into a cordial smile and nod goodnight, but he had a feeling it looked as forced as it felt.
Ryan took a deep breath and went to whisper to Spencer that he didn’t think they were safe anymore, but about that time, Spencer made a familiar noise softly across the wooden boards on the floor. It sounded like the mixture between a rub of his fingertip and a scratch of his fingernail back and forth across the floorboards. It had been a comfort for them for years. It was a sound they had decided to use when they’d been much smaller, a sound that one could use and the other could respond with even when they couldn’t see each other or couldn’t speak. If one scratched lightly on a surface, the other could hear it and make the same sound back. If one listened closely enough, the sound could be heard across rooms and through walls. That way, no slave trader, no overseer and no master had to know what they were doing, but Spencer and Ryan could sleep better, rest easier knowing that despite distance the other one was safe.
Ryan understood what Spencer was trying to do. Spencer was trying to calm him down. Ryan hadn’t even said a word about how sick he felt over the house’s new additions, yet Spencer had been able to read something Ryan was giving off enough to tell that he was uncomfortable. Spencer had looked out for Ryan all of their lives and Ryan wanted to cry as he settled down into his pallet and tried to forget about everything long enough to sleep. He needed to be rested in case they had to make another getaway. Steadily, Ryan reached his finger over to the wooden boarded floor and softly scratched back.
*==*==*==*
Brendon was sure he’d been asleep no less than half an hour when he awoke to Ryan crawling persuasively onto his bed. He would have thought he was dreaming if not for the fact that Ryan was trying to act as if he were not in pain from having just walked on his frostbitten feet to get there. Dream-Ryan would probably be sexier than that, Brendon thought. Ryan pulled back the covers on Brendon’s sleeping body and reached to push up his shirt. The small fire that had been in the room was down to embers and smooth skin was barely visible through the tiny beams of moonlight that came through the small window above Brendon’s bed, but it was enough for Ryan to know where he was aiming. He leaned down and tentatively began to place soft kisses on Brendon’s abs and waist, trailing lower until he reached the top of Brendon’s thin, cotton trousers. Without a moment wasted, Ryan placed his fingers under the upper band and began to tug them down. It took a second for Brendon to wake up enough to figure out what was going on, but once the cool air hit, his mind was alert enough to push Ryan away, even if the first bit of contact pushed Ryan’s head more into Brendon’s bare crotch than away from it.
“What are you doing?” Brendon sputtered as he sat up and pulled his trousers back up in one swift motion.
“Please,” Ryan whispered. His body was held back a little more than before, but despite being hoarse, his words were bolder than Brendon would have expected from someone as seemingly fragile as Ryan. “What do you want? I’ll do anything, please.”
Brendon blinked and rubbed at his eyes a moment. It was possible he missed something in the time he’d been asleep, but he doubted it. Mostly, he was just sure of the fact that his guest who he barely knew had just climbed into bed with him and began making uncomfortable advances on him in his sleep.
“What happened?” Brendon managed to ask because surely something had set this off. Ryan hadn’t previously displayed any signs of being unable to control himself sexually.
“I’ll do anything. Just, please,” Ryan was still saying and Brendon had to reach out and grab his shoulders. Ryan cowered in on himself as Brendon reached forward and it made Brendon feel horrible even if he were doing nothing to feel guilty over.
“Ryan, Ryan, talk to me,” Brendon spoke and Ryan tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down. His body was shivering either from the chill in Brendon’s room or from fear, Brendon wasn’t sure.
“I have to protect Spencer,” Ryan managed to get out, but by that point tears had managed to surface and spill down onto his cheeks. “I’ll do anything you want. Just tell me,” Ryan spluttered out and made a shaky motion toward his body. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just promise me you won’t turn us in, Brendon, please, Sir. I‘ve-”
“Ryan, we’ve been through this. I’m not turning you in,” Brendon spoke calmly. His even tone sounded so grounding interjected with Ryan’s shaking one. “I gave you my word.”
“Jon knows,” Ryan told him and Brendon’s eyes widened.
“How?”
“I don’t know, but he does. He knows and-”
Somehow the dam holding back Ryan’s emotions seemed to break and suddenly everything was spilling forth- the truth along with tears, snot, and hiccups. Ryan wasn’t exactly the attractive boy he’d been just moments before, but Brendon didn’t try to comfort him. He could tell Ryan was trying to say something important.
“I’ve worked too hard and I’ve come too far to get us killed now. I told Spencer- I told him when we left that I would take care of him. He’s always taken care of me. He’s done everything for me for years. Always done everything for pathetic, weak Ryan. He’s looked after me if I‘ve been hurt or unwell, given me his food, even taken a few of my punishments. It’s my turn to look after him. He hasn’t always been blind. He’s only been that way since Summer.” Ryan gasped a bit and his eyes went wide as he tried to explain while choking on sobs. He was beaten one day and they hit his head really hard. Harder than usual and then he said his sight kept flashing in and out and a few days later he couldn’t see anything at all.” Ryan was wiping his eyes with his long fingers, but it wasn’t doing much good at this point. “When the family’s children came over for the harvest holidays, they made fun of him and played games that left him with welts and bruises all over his body and I knew they’d be back for the winter holidays. I knew I had to get him out of there or it would just happen again. I had to take care of him this time. And when I told him we could get away, he said to go without him. He said I was in better shape than he was so I should escape while I still had the chance. He said he would slow me down and we’d be caught. And I made a promise-”
Ryan had to stop to catch his breath and Brendon took the opportunity to reach and get a handkerchief from the dresser for Ryan’s face.
“I made a promise to him,” Ryan continued once he was much more put together, “that I would look after him. I’m not- I can’t let anything happen to him now. If we get sent back we’re dead, and then instead of saving Spencer I got him hanged. I can’t repay him like that. He deserves better.”
Ryan’s voice broke on the last bit and Brendon wanted to reach forward and hug him, but when he moved forward Ryan pulled back.
“Jon won’t turn you in,” Brendon whispered. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle me harboring runaway slaves, but I promise you, he isn’t going to turn you in. I gave you my word that I’d help you get out of Wildelow and I will and I don’t mean in chains.”
Ryan nodded, but his whole body froze the moment there was a knock on Brendon’s door. Brendon seemed to freeze up as well before Jon’s voice was heard saying, “Everything okay in there, Bren?”
The house was only two rooms. They should have known they couldn’t be that loud without waking someone, but no one could have known that Jon would have such exceptionally poor timing.
“Let me handle this,” Brendon whispered to Ryan. Ryan nodded nervously. Brendon got up and wrapped a sheet around Ryan’s shoulders before opening the door to his brother. Jon looked right past Brendon into the dark room to see Ryan sitting incriminatingly on Brendon’s bed.
“I need to tell you something,” Jon whispered to his brother in the doorway before looking past Brendon. “George, would you give us a moment alone please?”
Ryan nodded and moved to get up, but Brendon spoke up for him. “No, Jon, he needs to stay, I think.” Jon and Brendon eyed each other quietly for a moment. Jon looked dark from Brendon’s view, but Brendon was partially illuminated by the firelight across the open room. He hoped he didn’t look as unsure of himself as he felt.
“These men-” Jon started, then lowered his voice, “These men that you have staying with you. You introduced them as your friends. Do you know anything about them?”
Brendon took a deep breath. “I know enough,” he countered.
“You know where they’re from? Their pasts?”
“I do. Jon, they told me.” Brendon motioned into the room behind Jon where Spencer slept soundly. “They aren’t hiding anyth-”
“What are they even doing here?” Jon asked, his voice rising and more force behind it than Brendon had expected.
“They’re having Christmas,” Brendon replied. He shrugged a bit as if to say there was no other way to answer. It seemed obvious enough. “They’re having a good Christmas. With us.”
“A good Christmas with us? That one out there?” Jon motioned over his shoulder to where Brendon had just gestured. Ryan hoped they weren’t waking Spencer. “Christmas here? How did they even end up here, Brendon? This is huge!”
“I know! I know!” Brendon replied, trying to hush his brother. His hands were up and his palms were out toward Jon’s chest as if to get him to settle down. Jon took a step back.
“How long have they been here? Haven’t you even told anyone?” Jon accused and began pacing a bit in front of Brendon’s door.
“Told anyone?” Brendon cried and surely, if everyone had had not been before, they were awake now. “Why would I tell anyone Jon!”
“Oh, I don’t know Brendon!” Jon was yelling back now too. “Maybe because many people have been looking for them! Maybe perhaps because it’s the right thing to do! Perhaps even because you need the money?”
Brendon looked horrified. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from Jon at all. He and Jon could usually agree on almost anything of consequence.
“I couldn’t send them back,” Brendon finally confessed. “I just couldn’t send them back, okay?”
Spencer was awake and sitting up now, his arms and legs all folded up close to him as if to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Tom was peering down the ladder from the loft, watching the confrontation. He hadn’t heard Jon yell in a long time.
“Why not? Brendon, there’s no logic in that whatsoever! They belong back with-”
“No, no!” Brendon was shaking his head and his hands had become quite animated to go with his words. “I promised them that I wouldn’t send them back and I’m not going to and I’m not telling anyone they‘re here either! If we send them back now, they’re just going to get hurt, or worse end up dead somewhere, and I can’t sleep at night knowing I did that to someone. I refuse to do it! They’re in my house and they came to me for help and I’m not sending them anywhere or turning them over to anyone!”
Jon watched Brendon for a moment. In the middle of his declaration, Brendon had taken a few steps out into the open room toward Spencer. He kept glancing at him as if he were going to have to throw himself in front of him to protect him. A few feet off, Jon stood looking at Brendon with the most perplexed look Brendon had ever seen on him.
“Brendon,” Jon asked after he’d lowered his voice. “Brendon, what are you talking about?”
Brendon looked around his own home as if he were lost in it or had never seen it before. “I didn’t know their backgrounds when they came to me,” he said more calmly. “I just knew they needed my help. I may not be a doctor like you, but I remember enough that I can help people who need me. That‘s all I was doing. Then when I found out the truth, I wasn‘t dealing with strangers anymore. I was dealing with my friends. And I couldn‘t send them back. I don‘t care if it‘s the right thing to do or the legal thing to do. I have to help them. I promised I‘d help get them out of Wildelow so they‘d be safe.”
Jon’s brow creased. “Why wouldn’t they be safe? Is someone after them?”
Now it was Brendon’s turn to look puzzled. He tried to start a number of different sentences, cutting each one short and getting more and more frustrated with himself, before Ryan sighed from the doorway of Brendon’s bedroom. He made his way carefully over to Spencer and sat down next to him, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand. Spencer grasped his back tightly.
Ryan looked resigned. “Just tell him, Brendon. It’s okay. Don‘t let us come between you.”
“What else do you want to know?” Brendon asked as he walked over to stand near to Spencer and Ryan. From where he stood, he could see Cassie awake in the loft and holding a scared little Willa.
“Who is after them?” Jon asked, “Someone bad?”
“The master they ran away from,” Brendon said sadly. “He’s not like you with Tom. He’s abusive and cruel and they have the marks to prove it.”
“Master,” Jon mumbled to himself in an awed voice. Then he stepped closer to the rug where the three all waited and pointed to Spencer, forgetting that it made no difference. “Are you not Spencer Smith? From the Smiths of Ashbourne?”
Ryan looked at Spencer and Spencer’s face flashed over with a confused expression. “I uh-” he replied, “I honestly don’t know.”
“Ashbourne?” Ryan asked, but it was Brendon who looked the most baffled.
“The family you work for?” Brendon asked Jon and Jon nodded eagerly.
“Are you not the son that went missing from the Smith family in Ashbourne a decade ago? Spencer?”
“My name is Spencer,” he replied. “But I don’t know this family. I’ve been a slave since I was-”
“You’re nineteen? Twenty?” Jon asked and Spencer nodded.
“Are you saying you know his family?” Brendon asked in disbelief. He dropped down next to Spencer and Jon followed to sit near to them as well.
“I know his family, yes” Jon nodded. “I know them quite well. I’m their doctor. And they want him back very much.”
Ryan was looking at Spencer as if trying to take it all in. Spencer turned toward Ryan and Ryan caught him in a hug. “You have a home,” Ryan whispered into his hair and Spencer just held onto him tightly.
Brendon wanted to hug them both as well, but held himself back. He knew what it was like to finally have a home, but he figured to Spencer and Ryan this was something more, something he wasn’t a part of. And when he crawled back in bed a little while later, he fell asleep with the image of Ryan and Spencer embracing one another tightly in his head.
Continue to part three.
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