Abandon: Chapter 11
The Abernathy Trilogy
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abandon
Chapter 11
Justin
The sound of horse hooves on the road causes me to start, and I bolt up from the table, sending my pens and inkwell clattering to the floor. But I haven't the mind to pick them up now; Brian is back!
I hurl open the door, ready to rush out and into his arms, but I am stopped short by the presence not of Brian, but of two strangers dismounting their horses. One of them--a large, boorish looking man, takes the horses and ties them to the gateposts, while the other approaches me, an unpleasant glimmer in his eye. His long black hair is slicked and fastened back in a tie, suggesting importance.
"You must be Justin," he says, standing before me on the step.
"Yes, sir," I reply, confused by his familiarity. "How may I be of service?"
"May I come in?" he asks, looking to push past me. I stand firm in the doorway, placing one hand on each jamb.
"My master is not at home."
"Indeed," he smiles. "Is there anyone else in the house?"
"Only the servant William...he is in the fields."
"Shall I fetch him?" says the larger man from the yard.
"No, Sydney. Go have a look around the house," Black Hair orders. "I will have a word with Justin alone."
"Sir, I can't let you in while my master is out," I explain, not trusting his demeanor. "You'll have to wait until he returns."
Black Hair leans in, conspiratorially. He smells of leather and pomade. "He's not returning. He was arrested yesterday."
"Arrested?" I cry in shock.
"Yes, my boy. Now, will you let me in?" I stand aside, numbly. He pushes past me into the sitting-room and seats himself at the head of the table. In Brian's chair.
I push shut the heavy door and blandly notice all the air escape from the room as it closes. Turning around, I stare at the man who has now made himself quite comfortable at our table. I can do nothing but fear the next words that come from his mouth.
"Sit, Justin," he gestures to the chair next to him, as if he were the owner of this house and I, the guest. "My name is Hoskins." I stumble weakly to the bench and sit down.
He sighs deeply, as though considering how to begin. "We arrested your master yesterday, based on testimony from your housekeeper, Josephine Murray. You know her, of course."
"Yes," I whisper, my voice having long since retreated into my chest.
"She reported to us that she had witnessed some behavior of a...wicked...nature involving you and Mr. Kinney. At first, we had misinterpreted her account, and had presumed you both to be guilty. Mr. Kinney of course denied any such doing." He chuckles to himself then and looks to my response. I stare down at my hands, held tightly together in my lap to conceal their shaking.
"I explained to him," he continues, "that the case against him was so sound that he had no chance of pardon, and that it would be in the best interest of his Christian soul to admit his guilt. Seek penance. And under my skillful interrogation, he cracked, and has confessed to it all--to more even than I expected! He professed to assaulting you on numerous occasions, in a vile and...detestable...fashion, and to threatening your life if you told anyone.
"His is a base--depraved--corruption, Justin, and you need no longer fear his tyranny. He stands to be hanged in two days."
The last thing I remember is the floor rushing up to meet my head.
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abandon
Chapter 11
Justin
The sound of horse hooves on the road causes me to start, and I bolt up from the table, sending my pens and inkwell clattering to the floor. But I haven't the mind to pick them up now; Brian is back!
I hurl open the door, ready to rush out and into his arms, but I am stopped short by the presence not of Brian, but of two strangers dismounting their horses. One of them--a large, boorish looking man, takes the horses and ties them to the gateposts, while the other approaches me, an unpleasant glimmer in his eye. His long black hair is slicked and fastened back in a tie, suggesting importance.
"You must be Justin," he says, standing before me on the step.
"Yes, sir," I reply, confused by his familiarity. "How may I be of service?"
"May I come in?" he asks, looking to push past me. I stand firm in the doorway, placing one hand on each jamb.
"My master is not at home."
"Indeed," he smiles. "Is there anyone else in the house?"
"Only the servant William...he is in the fields."
"Shall I fetch him?" says the larger man from the yard.
"No, Sydney. Go have a look around the house," Black Hair orders. "I will have a word with Justin alone."
"Sir, I can't let you in while my master is out," I explain, not trusting his demeanor. "You'll have to wait until he returns."
Black Hair leans in, conspiratorially. He smells of leather and pomade. "He's not returning. He was arrested yesterday."
"Arrested?" I cry in shock.
"Yes, my boy. Now, will you let me in?" I stand aside, numbly. He pushes past me into the sitting-room and seats himself at the head of the table. In Brian's chair.
I push shut the heavy door and blandly notice all the air escape from the room as it closes. Turning around, I stare at the man who has now made himself quite comfortable at our table. I can do nothing but fear the next words that come from his mouth.
"Sit, Justin," he gestures to the chair next to him, as if he were the owner of this house and I, the guest. "My name is Hoskins." I stumble weakly to the bench and sit down.
He sighs deeply, as though considering how to begin. "We arrested your master yesterday, based on testimony from your housekeeper, Josephine Murray. You know her, of course."
"Yes," I whisper, my voice having long since retreated into my chest.
"She reported to us that she had witnessed some behavior of a...wicked...nature involving you and Mr. Kinney. At first, we had misinterpreted her account, and had presumed you both to be guilty. Mr. Kinney of course denied any such doing." He chuckles to himself then and looks to my response. I stare down at my hands, held tightly together in my lap to conceal their shaking.
"I explained to him," he continues, "that the case against him was so sound that he had no chance of pardon, and that it would be in the best interest of his Christian soul to admit his guilt. Seek penance. And under my skillful interrogation, he cracked, and has confessed to it all--to more even than I expected! He professed to assaulting you on numerous occasions, in a vile and...detestable...fashion, and to threatening your life if you told anyone.
"His is a base--depraved--corruption, Justin, and you need no longer fear his tyranny. He stands to be hanged in two days."
The last thing I remember is the floor rushing up to meet my head.