Chapter

On Bended Knees

Joe startled awake to Tom barging through the bedroom door. He knew already that his son had wet the bed again. He yanked Scotty away and forced the soaked boy to stand before him. Joe scampered back then pushed himself up and out of the bed fearing the same treatment of the small boy as he had seen on the day prior.

"I just don't get it with you boy. Every day. Every day with this. I just can't help but thinking that you must like the feeling of lying in your own piss. You like pissing yourself?" The father griped as he shed his boy of his urine-soaked garment. "You like it so much you can wear it." He put a piece of soaked cloth over his son's head like a hat. He didn't whip the boy though. The kid hid his face in his hands as he broke into tears. Standing there wet and shamed. He wasn't sure that this was any better. He hated Tomlinson for this. It's bad enough if he did this to his son when no one was around to see, but Joe was here. He imagined how mortified Scotty might feel being shamed in front of a friend. An older boy.

"You don't have to be so mean."

"What did you say to me?" The boy gulped. At that moment he realized he'd forgotten himself again.

"I was only saying." He faltered timorously, even lowering his eyes so as not to appear confrontational; as he now found himself in the crosshairs.

"Are you challenging me boy?" When the despot stood Joe couldn't help but recoil.

"No. I was just saying." He grabbed a fistful of Joe's hair. Joe felt he knew Tom's plan was to put him into the hole. With all God's good graces, he 'd been wrong. They locked eyes but didn't move from that spot.

"I warned you before not to get in the middle of me disciplining my son."

They stayed in this deathly stare. Joe doing his best to squash his fear which was difficult in the way Tom eyed him. If he had made to great of a move, this would be enough of an excuse to drag him to the hole. When Joe was just about ready to crawl from his own skin to escape, Tom was satisfied.

"I'll deal with you in a moment." Pushing Joe's head away and going back to his son, taking up his arm to drag him down the steps.

A moment later, Joe could hear Scotty splashing feverishly in the water. Paul's cursing an evil harmony to the sound of his son's panicked cries. Scotty's room only had one window which faced towards the side of the house. The water basin was at the front of the house. He couldn't see them so he wasn't sure, but it sounded as if Tom was drowning Scotty again. Now he wondered, did he cause this? Did he cause Tomlinson to act out on his son in this manner? To consider that, he had to wonder whether this was something that Tom does to Scotty already. Was this what he was hearing the first time he had heard Scotty splash about in this manner? Had this happened before? Somehow, thinking of the ease in which Tom had held Scotty's head under the water the last time, Joe got the feeling the answer was 'yes'. But that begged the next question. How often does this happen? When nobodies around to see. To stop him. A disgusting feeling began to crawl up his spine. Joe didn't want to think about it. What could he do?

He was glad he couldn't see. He was afraid to look. Afraid of seeing something he did not wish to see. Because if he did see, he wasn't sure he wouldn't try to do something to stop him and he knew by now how bad of an idea that was, so instead he just sat on the bed and listened… and waited.

Things went quiet for some time and Joe sat… and waited… and wondered.

He heard them coming into the house and up the stairs and he breathed out a sigh of relief. Relief that he hadn't just sat idly by and let Tom murder his son. This was before his breath hitched again at the fear this man caused. What more could he do if he wanted to? Tom did say I'll deal with you later before he left. Was this later? Was it Joe's turn to suffer under this man's hand?

"What? You got something to say?" He said to him right as he came in. Joe's tongue had been stripped from him. He just shook his head subtly instead. You couldn't even strip the bed?" He flung the boy whom he held by the arm in, whom landed against the mattress and onto the floor. Grabbing the linen himself whence his hands were free again. "The least you could do is get him dressed."

There was relief once again whence they were alone. The boy reached up smally pulling the green knitted blanket atop him. The only linen that had been left behind. Looking at the pitiful boy with buttermilk hair, which looked darker now as it was slicked down and pasted to his head.

The boy was shaking all over, hugging himself, wrapping himself tight within that oversized towel. His eyes locked into the floor. His heart just broke for him. Joe knew the water was cold but he got the idea now that there was more to Scotty's trembling than just that.

"Are you okay?" He knelt to his level placing a concerned hand on his shoulder. The boy kept his stare into the floor without word. "Come here." He dropped next to him wrapping his arms around him, hoping his body heat would provide him some comfort. To his astonishment, the boy hugged earnestly back. A great expression of will for the boy who expresses little. The boy, with his small words and gestures, his small way of expressing himself was not above tears. This was one thing in which he was still very much capable of. Though even this he did smally. Joe wasn't positive but he thought that the boy might be crying now. He just held him, wanting him to believe that everything would be alright, but he wasn't sure if it ever would. After a moment when the trembling lessened, he pulled away looking down to see if the situation had improved. Though Joe's shirt had soaked up most of the moisture Scotty's face was still wet. His downcast eyes, reddened. He wiped away the excess moisture with the blanket.

Joe wished he could hide all day up here with Scotty. If he knew it would keep them both from Tom's wrath, he would. Somehow, he felt that it would only invite more trouble if he tried. They would have to go down and face him sooner or later. Later would only invite trouble. Especially if Tom had to come up to retrieve them. That would not be in their best interest.

"Come on." Joe said with a small voice to match Scotty's. "Let's get you dressed."

~.~

"I take partial responsibility for your behavior." Tom addressed them over breakfast. "Your pa left me in charge to rear you up in his absence but I haven't been doing my job like I should. You're disrespectful, you talk back to me whenever you can, and when I leave you to your own devices you cause nothing but more work for me. I've done a lot of thinking on this and have determined that I'm just not challenging you enough. I've got to do more to keep you busy and make your body tired. Give you less energy for defiance and mischief. The problem with this is that I can't be watching you at every moment. I've got my own work to do. I thought that you were old enough so that we wouldn't have these problems but you seem to be proving me wrong at every opportunity. I think that giving you too much time to yourself is the real problem. You need more responsibility. Therefore, I'm making feeding and watering Mule your daily chore. You will also be watering my trees. Every morning I want you to do this."

"Yes sir."

"When you are done with this, I want you to meet me in the shed." Joe couldn't help but gulp. He drooped his head and responded.

"Yes sir."

~.~

It had taken a little over an hour to complete these tasks. Apparently too long for Tom's liking because he went out to find them in their work.

"What's taking so long?" The pater interrupted Joe from his thoughts.

"Nothing. We're doing what you asked."

"I thought I told you to meet me in the shed."

"When we're done." Joe reminded, trying not to come across as sarcastic. "We're not quite done."

"You're stalling."

"We're almost done." In fact, they were. They were halfway through their final row.

"You've got five minutes. If you're not in the shed by then, they'll be more trouble then you'll know what to do with."

He let out a feared breath as Tom walked away from them.

"Come on." He encouraged Scotty to move. Joe heeded to this threat finishing up his task in record time.

~.~

Not five minutes later both boys found themselves standing before the pater like soldiers to their commander.

"You want to tell me what you were really doing out there, Joe?"

"I told you, we were finishing up our work."

"Really? It took you this long?"

"We just wanted to make sure we were doing it right."

"You were stalling Joe. Admit it."

"No."

"How about yesterday? Hm?"

"Yesterday?"

"Yes, yesterday. When I caught you coming in from outside." He trembled at the memory.

"I told you. I was dumping the bucket." He stumbled over his thick tongue.

"That wasn't the only thing you were doing was it. What else?"

"That was it. Really." That wasn't it and Joe knew it, furthermore he knew Tom knew it. A slap fell across his cheek. His face throbbed but this pain was not enough to get him to go back on his story. He held a cool hand to his hot cheek.

"You're a liar Joe."

These words stung deeper than the slap. Deeper than any insult he's given him so far. Out of everything this was the furthest from the truth. Normally. Joe had never been known as a liar. He'd faced down his own pa admitting to some of the most awful misdeeds and spoken truth to the best of his knowledge. Same with his teacher, or the lawmen, or any other adult in his life; or child for that matter. He's never once lied to his ma or to Adam or Hoss that he could remember. No matter how difficult the truth is to admit to sometimes, his word was his virtue and he wore that like a crown. But this man, the scariest of them all, he stood here and lied to him. Straight to his face. An obvious one too. He wasn't very good at farces because it wasn't in his nature. He hadn't had enough practice. It was only reasonable that Tom would see right through him. But what could he do? This lie could end up saving his life one day.

"You want to tell me what you were really doing?" He grabbed Joe by his hair just as he had done that morning, and stared him down. At that moment Joe really wished his hair wasn't so long. His pa would always get on his case about not wanting him to look like a riverboat gambler, whatever that meant. Right now, he despised his own long hair and how powerless he felt whenever Tomlinson grabbed a fistful of it.

"I know that you know what I'm capable of." That was the problem. Joe wasn't rightly sure what Tom could be capable of. Just how far he was capable of going. Telling Tom the truth, Joe wasn't entirely sure wouldn't kill him right now. That might be an exaggeration, but with how irrational he knew Tom could be, he couldn't be sure that, that wasn't entirely possible. He had to remind himself that he almost died just days ago. Tom might have wanted to act like it wasn't a big deal but it was. He had to do this. He had to keep up this farce. No matter the cost. "You don't want to tell me? Fine; but if you think I won't find out; and when I do, you'll wish you told me when you had the chance." Joe had no doubt about that. He just had to make sure Tom never finds out.

He held Joe and scanned down his length attempting to read him.

"Get on your knees?" He flung the boy forward but Joe got his footing.

"What?"

"I don't feel like I can trust you out of my sight. All you do is make more work for me. Now, get on your knees." He said again with anger rising. Scotty was already humbly obeying, showing Joe just what it was that was expected of him. Joe thought it best not to push this man further. Taking the cue, he lowered himself next to the boy and looked up, his eyes asking 'now what?'. Satisfied Tom righted himself. "Now, I want you to stay like that." He ordered before walking away.

"Wh-?" Joe began to remark but was cut off when Tom turned back.

"You want to argue with me boy?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "You stay like that. You don't talk. You don't move."

"For how long?"

"Boy, I ought to slap you down right here for disobeying." Raising a backhand as a show of force. "Didn't I just say no talking and you go smarting off? You'll stay like that until I say otherwise. How about that? When you can prove to me that you can behave. When I can start trusting you to act like normal human beings and not get into trouble every time I turn my back. That's when you can get up." Before walking away, he said one more thing. "You get up or move from that spot without my say-so and we'll just see what happens. You want to know how much worse this can get for you? Try me."

This started out as a power play. Joe kneeling upright just to prove that he could. That Tom wouldn't get to him; but Tom could care less because ultimately, he was getting what he wanted. Realizing that did nothing to prove him the better and feeling the debilitating pain take over, it didn't take long for Joe to slouch. His knees really began to ache. Almost 10 minutes of being in this position, Joe sat down on his ankles. Tomlinson immediately stopped what he was doing, got up and charged over. Seeing the man's fast approach he tried to get back up in time but was met with a slap to knock him down. He couldn't get his arm up in time to protect himself.

"You want to test me?" Joe coward on the floor protecting himself now.

"No."

"Get up." He began to get to his feet and another slap this time across his face knocked him down.

"You know what I mean. Don't be smart with me boy. Get up." He said again. Lip throbbing, heart racing, Joe shakily did as he was told and pushed himself back to his knees.

"I told you that if you were to move, you'd get this. I warned you and you just had to go testing me."

Joe felt his lip may have been busted. There was a strange taste from it anyhow. He used his tongue to play with it. It hurt but also felt a bit fat and numb. Tom cared nothing for his pains. He went right back to his shoes, picking up where he'd left off.

Joe kept his face up watching Tom as he worked. Tom would look out at Joe now and again. Joe loved these moments, when he recognized them. When Tom, Joe hoped, would recognize what he was doing to them. The rocks digging into his knees. Losing feeling in his legs. Back and neck aching. He hoped his lip had been busted so Tom could see that too. He kept this stare, in defiant annoyance.

"Stop looking at me." Tom said after some time. Lower your eyes. The boy knew he had to obey or risk another slap. He bitterly broke his stare. This was the worst thing he could do. He was admitting right there that he was less than this man. That this man owned his every being. All his control forfeited. Every once in a while, he'd steal a glance. Tom unmoved by their pain kept at his work.

After some time, he stopped working and looked at Joe. "You just can't help yourself. Can you boy? That's it. Turn around. I don't want you to face me anymore. Turn yourself around and face out." Joe had stiffened to his current position and moving felt like lead. "Turn around. Face out." He repeated. "I don't want to look at you." Sluggishly, he did as he was told, facing the opposite direction now.

~.~

He wondered what time it was. His stomach grumbled for food. It seems that they had spent hours on their knees. The room became miserably warm. Stuffy. It became almost difficult to breathe. He needed water. Each breath parched him that much more. Was he even allowed to ask for water? He wasn't sure. He was guessing by the days in the hole without it that it was probably not a good idea to ask now, but how much was too much? Would Tom know the answer to that before it became too late for them? He was sweating and doing his best to catch his breath.

He turned his head to look at the boy next to him. Scotty was keeping his head lowered and staring into the floor. Gosh! He was a good boy. It didn't look like he was affected at all. Sure, there was sweat on him too but whatever aches he was feeling, if any at all, he didn't let it show in his face. Joe was dying over here. He wasn't used to this at all.

He could hear Tom approaching them and the hair rose on his neck.

What had he done wrong? What fault had Tom found in him? He was trying. God he was trying. Trying to be a good boy. Were his efforts not enough? He braced for the strike. Tom grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked back so he was facing up at him but Joe kept his hands up to protect his face.

"What was that thing you said to me the other day?" He asked as cool as ever. "'It's a lot different being in a shed rather than being out in the hot sun.' How about now boy? You still feel the same way?" He asked with a cruel smirk. He was baiting the boy but the boy didn't bite. Still, his words twisted like worms in his stomach.

"Get up. Get to the table. It's time to eat." He let him go and walked out.

~.~

Their bodies ached. All they had the energy to do was to crawl to the dining table and sit until Tom had brought out their meal some twenty minutes later. They had skipped over lunch that day but supper was an early one, eaten sometime in mid-afternoon.

There was a slight tremble to Joe as he ate. His body felt heavy. Something about his muscles he couldn't quite get them to work the way he wanted them to. Was Scotty feeling the same way or had he done this often enough that he was used to it?

The only indication that Scotty was affected at all was when he went to take a drink. Joe noticed the water tremble as he tipped his glass to his lips. Joe went back to his plate stabbing a bite full but was taken from his repine at the fall. Scotty while placing his cup back in its spot had miscalculated and spilled it over, some of it landing in Tom's plate watering down his potatoes. The majority of the liquid ran across the table and dribbled onto Joe's lap. He slid back to avoid the main pool. Tom slammed his own cup down.

"You damned clumsy child! Look what you've done!"

"I'm sorry." The angered father wiped his mouth with the rag and screeched his chair back as he stood. Joe jumped up with him and looked on. "I'm sorry pa. I'm sorry." The kid dropped off his chair. Joe thought that was a strange response. He knew Scotty's pa could get angry and most likely would at this because that's the kind of man he is, but clean it up. At least do that much. He was smart enough to know that when you make a mess even accidently, clean it up. Let his pa be mad. He'll be less mad if he just cleans it up but Scotty wasn't doing this. He was just cowering and Tomlinson was getting angrier and angrier, resorting to cursing and spurning his 'damned clumsy' child.

"It's okay. Mr. Tomlinson, we'll clean it up. I'll help him." The older boy tried to encourage the younger one into action while simultaneously placating the father. He began moving the dishes aside, taking the rag and sopping up the moisture. Tom without acknowledging Joe in the slightest unbuckled his belt and stripped it from his waistband. Oh no! This was getting real serious real fast. "It's okay Mr. Tomlinson." Joe kept trying. He went around the table to get in between. "I got it." He mollified, lifting the tipped glass to wipe underneath it. The strike came down anyways and Joe flinched at the snap and flung around to face them, doing nothing more now to clean the spot. His focus full on the towering figure and the cowering bundle at his feet. He watched as Tom swung down another strike onto his crying child.

"Tom stop! Please! We'll clean it." He beseeched trying to get between without appearing challenging.

Too close for Tom's liking he shoved the older boy causing him to stumbled back. Hitting the table, and falling down, the glass had fallen to the floor and shattered beneath his hand. Tom had fire in his eyes when he heard the shatter. He eyed Joe and what he had done.

Great! He was angry at Scotty for tipping the glass and now Joe goes and breaks it.

A sharp pain draws his focus from Tom. Lifting his hand to see that one of the larger pieces had embedded itself in his palm. Grimacing through the pain, he pulls the piece out slowly and cast it aside, tucking his palm into his shirt. Looking up at Tom now, pleading for mercy, praying he would not act upon him; that he would just leave the wounded cub alone. Tom, seeing what Joe had just done, stared down at him as if contemplating his next move.

"I warned you not to get in the middle of me and my son. You did that to yourself."

The boy didn't seem that blame was the right response. As if in agreement that action needed to be taken, he lifted Joe up by his shirt. He began to panic not knowing what was to come and knowing that he was in no condition to fight this man. The brutal man turned towards the door dragging Joe behind him. They were heading towards the cellar. He cradled his hand against his wildly beating heart, lump in his throat, though he told himself he had nothing to fear. He had prepared for this. It was better than a beating at any rate. He pleaded not a word. Tom didn't throw him down this time. He took the effort to descend with him, swinging him around and forcing him to sit on the bottom step.