Women and Other Monsters Read Free

household’s seamstresses fashioned a wide skirt for her wedding dress that would hide the contraption when she stood.  She used a cane to walk down the aisle to where Francis Jennings stood waiting, passing a long line of attendees who attempted not to look at her with pity. 
     
    Mr. Rutherford was barely strong enough to stay awake during the dinner after the ceremony.  It was a sparse affair, attended by the white members of the house and several rough-looking men that Francis had brought over from his family’s company to help run the plantation.  Clarissa heard Mr. Paul say to another overseer, “Look at these bastards.  They think nothing of handing out beatings until our darkies are half-dead.  But our slaves have been through worse, and they don’t fear much.”  He glanced in Clarissa’s direction and said, “Unless she’s around.”
     
    Clarissa turned to him and said, “Why is that, Mr. Paul?”
     
    Paul smiled nervously and said, “I am sure I have no idea what you mean, Mrs. Jennings.” 
     
    Clarissa found him later in the stable, catching her breath as she balanced against the wall.  “What is it about me that the slaves are afraid of?”
     
    Paul continued stroking the mane of one of the horses and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
     
    “Is it my deformity?”
     
    Paul turned and looked at her sharply, “You check your tone around me, young lady.” Paul had worked for the Rutherford’s since he came off the boat from Ireland, when Clarissa was still a child.  He’d taught her to ride cart horses and slid her sips of whiskey during long, boring holiday dinners.  These things crossed his mind as he said, “You are still a beauty, leg or no, aye?”
     
    “Well, what is it then?”
     
    “Some old witch is saying you’ve made some sort of compact with one of their African devils.  It’s getting the others all stirred up.” 
     
    Clarissa laughed quickly and touched her chest when she said, “What rubbish.”
     
    “Don’t fret about it, love.  I put a beating on the ones who were making the most noise about it.  I don’t expect any more trouble.”  
     
    ***
     
    The next day, one of the youngest field negroes was caught stealing a chicken from the hatchery.  He was not even twelve but he fought like an animal as Francis’ men dragged him toward the chopping block.  A crowd of hardened, dark-skinned faces looked on, speaking to one another in urgent voices.   
     
    The workers held the boy down and stretched out his arm across the stained wooden surface of the block.  One of them picked up an axe and pumped the pedal on the sharpening stone, filling the air with the sound of screeching metal and sparks that popped in the disappearing daylight. 
     
    Mr. Paul broke through the ranks and shoved the man with the axe away from the stone, “This is an outrage.  You touch that axe to that boy and I’ll kill you myself.”
     
    The axeman grinned at him and told him he had the permission of the master. 
     
    “Mr. Rutherford would never disable his own worker.  It makes no sense.  The boy will be useless.”
     
    “Aye, but Mr. Jennings is in charge now,” the axeman said.  “And he is willing to sacrifice one thieving darkie to keep the other scum under control.”
     
    The boy’s mother pushed Paul out of the way and went after the axeman.  “Don’t you hurt my boy!  Don’t hurt my boy!”
     
    Paul grabbed her and dragged her back toward the others.  “They will do worse to you next.  Stay back!”
     
    The axeman lined up his weapon just below the boy’s elbow.  The boy gritted his teeth and cursed at the men as the axe blade touched his forearm.  He raised the axe high overhead and was about to swing it down when Clarissa’s voice boomed “Stop!”
     
    Henry Jim hurried across the field with Clarissa on his back.  He huffed and caught his breath while the slaves parted to allow him through.  “Let go of that