Chapter

The Ties that Bind

He kept his bleeding hand tucked into his shirt. His first fear when Tom entered with him was that the despotic was about to show him what he'd found in here; but he didn't. He just kneeled before Joe wordless as if reading him. His next fear was that Tom would see the truth in his eyes or catch some glimmer from behind the steps. Young Cartwright kept his gaze, thinking that it was better than giving Tom a reason to survey the room. For it wouldn't take much, he feared, to catch sight of what was at his back.

It was one long, nerve-wracking, hair-raising, skin crawling, painful moment later before Tom stood up and walked out, with the parting direction to 'stay'. Joe gulped and looked past him, up, at the sealing door.

This time Tom left the blanket off. The soft light illuminated his surroundings. He was grateful for this. He released the breath that he didn't know he was holding on to. The darkness, he knew, could be unnerving. He recalled the frightful memories of the first two times he was down here and praised the light now. There was another painful memory of that first time that came to resurface; but he knew he had nothing to fear in that regard. He had water and food… hadn't he?

The fear arose all the same then that what he thought was there to help him through what might be another miserable couple of days was not really there. Perhaps Tom really had found what he had endeavored to stash away. The pater was sure that Joe would once again thirst and starve, which was why he was confident in his actions in putting him in here again. Maybe that really was what the stare was about. Tom did this because he found what Joe tried so hard to hide and he was to find out the hard way that what he thought was there for him was not really there.

He scrambled to the back side of the steps where he had hidden the items. With his good hand he felt about for the decanter of water and bowl of gathered berries. He melted in relief when his hand tipped the vessel and he felt its weight. Both were just as full as he had left them.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't give into the taking of them right away. He set them back in their place. Deep underneath so they could not be seen by unsuspecting eyes. He felt the sin in his deception but did it anyways. This was a necessary evil. Necessary for his own survival, he justified.

Just then he heard commotion at the door. The master of the house was returning. He had changed his mind. He was letting Joe out. He scrambled back out and to the first step. He wasn't sitting on it. He'd been caught instead with one foot on that bottom step looking up at the pater who paused a moment to look down at him. This wasn't how he'd been told to stay but Tom didn't call him out on it. He didn't move aside so Joe could come out. Instead, he descended back down, this time carrying an armful of supplies.

"Sit." He ordered Joe back down to the bottom step. Joe did as he was directed and the man kneeled before him placing the supplies in the dirt. He rinsed Joe's hand first then proceeded to wrap it with cheesecloth.

"I don't know why you continue to challenge me boy." He grumbled. "This is your fault this happened. It wouldn't have happened if you'd just stayed out of things. I wasn't even angry at you and you had to go involving yourself. Sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. Maybe some time in here to think about what you've done will serve you some good." Joe gulped. He felt the weight of desolation. He was hoping Tom would let him out. Although he knew he had what he needed to survive down here, ultimately, he'd rather be out than in. Out tromping the countryside (as Tom would put it), out taking in the fresh air; rather than being cooped up in this constrictive environment.

He hated this place.

When Tom had finished, he gathered the supplies and left Joe alone, sealing him back inside.

The boy rested cradling his now cleaned and wrapped hand back into his shirt which had been soiled with blood.

He was alright. He'll be alright. He told himself. He could make it through this. Tom had again left the blanket off and for this he was grateful.

As he looked about himself things were mostly the same as the last time he was down here but not entirely. Something had caught his eye. There were a few baskets on the middle and lower shelves that weren't there the last time. Taking a closer look, they contained a fresh plethora of fruits and vegetables. Where the pater had been keeping them until now, he couldn't begin to guess. As he considered he thought of that newspaper once again. The new one he'd seen Tom reading and smiled bitterly. That was a week old now, almost. Looking at these vegetables, they gave the appearance of being that old. Come to think of it they had been eating more vegetables in the last week but he didn't remember them being here yester morning. That's because it was dark. Tom had put the blanket over the door then. Plus, he was too lost in his own pity then to pick up on their scent.

Kind of made stashing away food redundant now. No. It was better to have his own stash. Who knows what Tom might notice was missing?

This fresh produce was a mixed blessing. Of course, it was good to have fresh food in the house again but to think of the conditions in which he and Scotty had been left in order to get them was where the bitterness derived.

Wait a minute. As he put these threads together, he had a sudden wave of enlightenment. Was that the case now? He shot his head back to the doors. There was a new fear that arose at the idea of being kept in here with no one around. A lot could happen to Tom while he's away. If something delays him or God forbid, he never makes it back, then they could die down here. They could be lost in here forever. He trembled as he thought. Was he planning on leaving again? Was he going to trap Scotty up just to leave them? He didn't see why he wouldn't. He didn't see why he would. They've already got the fresh food they'd been lacking. What more could they need?

He put his ear to the door to listen, not really sure what he was listening for. After some moments when nothing came to his ears, he collapsed back down on the steps and mulled.

~.~

He had spent the rest of the day down here only partaking in some of the food and water near late-evening. More water than food. He'd been here even into the night taking in a bit more after the sun went down. He had to pace himself. He hadn't known how long this stay would last and he didn't want to go through his resources too quickly.

A new problem arose as the light faded. He was foolish not to have foreseen this. He felt it the last two times he was down here too but at least in regards to the first time as thirst became dominant that other problem sort of resolved itself, for whatever water was in his bladder absorbed back into his body. The second time he was here it hadn't been long enough for it to have been a problem. Now that water was not scarce, he felt the weight within. It wasn't bad now just uncomfortable. He'd just have to be careful with how much more water he'd take in. Only when he needs it and only in small doses. He could get through the night.

This confidence betrayed him though. He slept for a few hours but his circumstances weren't exactly ideal. Hours before the sun woke up the earth the weight in his bladder became painful and kept him from getting anymore sleep.

He sat up on the steps and hugged himself. The pain had only worsened with time. He felt ease when he vibrated his leg. In time even this wasn't enough. As the room lighted he jumped up to find himself walking back and forth in this small space. He kept wiping at his face as if he could sweat it out.

He'd alternate between sitting down and vibrating his leg, to doing circles on the floor; swiping at his face all the while. This was how he'd spent the next few hours.

He was thirsty again but dared not take a sip. Not until he could find some way to relieve himself. He dared not make a mess right there on the floor, even if it was made of dirt. That would be fine to try to justify. Right there in Tom's pantry next to the food. What if he went behind the steps? Next to his own food and water? He sneered. Not that it would make a difference. Tom would still know he did it by the smell and it would draw the attention right to this area. He couldn't do that. Not if he wanted to continue to hide the rations.

Oh, why didn't he bring something to piss in? There's got to be a container around here somewhere. There was enough light now to look around. There has to be something around here to hide his urine. What did Tom expect them to do when he keeps them locked away for so long? He thought of Scotty and the blanket lining the floor.

My God! He expects us to just piss ourselves and sit in it?

He sweated in this. Would he submit to this? Would he let Tom come in and find that he had soaked himself? What would he say to this? Would he beat Joe for this? Does he beat Scotty for it? Would Tom look down at him and sneer in disgust or smirk in satisfaction?

Why was he in this predicament? Why couldn't he foresee this? Why was he letting Tom win? Because that's what this was. Either way Tom was winning.

He settled on a plot. There were empty jars here, just like the full ones. If there were more jars with yellow tinge liquid up there next to the firsts, would Tom notice? Joe stared at those jars again with the yellow tinge liquid. Was he really considering pissing in one of Tom's jars? Yes. He had to take his chances. There was no way around it. He had to relieve himself and there was no way he was going to let Tom catch him with soaked trousers.

So many emotions he felt as he let the stream flow into the jar, filling up the glass. Relief first and foremost, fear of being caught followed quickly behind. Mischief as if this was just another misdeed. Anger for being put in this situation. Requite as this was something Tom deserved, but what did it matter? Tom would never know. He could never know. Fear again of getting caught. Humiliation at being brought to such desperate and primitive means.

Screwing the lid on to conceal the sharp stench he placed it on the top shelf adjacent the other jars and stepped back to examine his deed. It was hidden in plain sight and he prayed Tom hadn't counted the jars. Even in this light it was obvious that the colors didn't quite match up but to somebody that wasn't looking for it, it did blend in. He could get away with this. If Tom didn't know to look. He prayed Tom wouldn't know to look.

~.~

He was sitting on the second step to the bottom with his back to the door when Tom finally decided to let him out. It was late morning on the second day. He scanned the room as if sensing some oddity but Joe stared back at the knave with an angry disposition.

He stepped aside permitting Joe to exit.

Out in the open air again, Joe waited for him to close the door feeling, only then, as if he'd gotten away with his crimes. He was still angry at Tom for making him do it. He followed the fiend who didn't take him into the house through the kitchen door. "There's food on the table for you." He said as they walked past and on towards the front door. Tom breeched the doorway and stopped, waving inside for Joe to squeeze uncomfortably past. Scotty was in his seat at the table with his head drooped.

"When you're done eating get your chores done." He directed before leaving to head across the courtyard and on into the shed.

Joe took his seat first but at Tom's absence he stood again and began to serve the plates. Scotty only looked up a moment to catch sight of Joe's wrapped hand. Perceiving what the boy saw Joe stopped mid-serve wondering what he was thinking. Just as quickly the boy lowered his eyes. Joe took an irritated breath and continued serving up Scotty.

He kept his angry disposition. The same disposition that Tom had found him in. He was angry at Tom still, but Tom wasn't there to experience his wrath. Who was he kidding? There was no wrath at all for Tom to experience. There could never be. He knew he had to be smarter than that. He could never let Tom know how he truly felt about him; but Scotty was here and the way he sat all mopey like, pretending that what his father does to him was not a big deal, irritated him to all get out. He was headed down those same tired thoughts and he had to get himself out of them. He had to remind himself that Scotty was just as much of a victim in this as he. It wasn't his fault what his pa does to them.

He served up his own plate and retook his seat.

He had trouble holding his fork with any real finesse. The blood, he could see, had soaked through his bandage. It hurt some but he wholly did his best to not draw any further attention to it. Even with his troubles he had still finished his meal before Scotty. With his hands in his lap now, he remained there until the boy across from him had finished his.

He eyed Scotty who'd kept his head lowered through the entirety of the meal. Considering the boy's naturally timid disposition, he wondered if isolation was a large part as to why the little one was so quiet all the time. Had he really been in that closet in the hours that Joe was in the hole? He could just come straight out and ask him. He sighed giving up on the idea. What was the point? It could serve him no good knowing for sure. It would only build on the ill-feelings he already had of the pater. Emotions he didn't need.

Minutes later Scotty put his fork down and looked up.

"You ready?" The boy nodded subtly.

Joe got up from the table and reached across to take Scotty's plate but Scotty stilled his hand. In one motion the smaller boy had gotten to his knees on his own chair while engulfing Cartwright's hand in his own. Put off step, he wondered at the intentions of the younger one. With Joe's hand captured in his, Scotty ran tender fingers along the stained bandage. There was a pang in the heart of the older boy at the attention Scotty showed him that knotted in his throat. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had allowed himself ill-thoughts over the younger one. The boy's deep and caring nature was bleeding through.

Keeping hold, Scotty got down from his chair. He guided Joe into the kitchen and over to the sink. Standing before it he took Joe's hand and carefully unwrapped the bandage. Joe had let him, curious as to how far this would get. The blood had dried and scabbed over in an ugly way. He let Scotty stick it under the faucet, giving it a pump or two, which stung but effectively washed the wound anew. Some of the scab fell away and began to seep again. His hand still in the smaller boy's, he was led over to a wooden cabinet against the back wall. Opening a large drawer at the bottom where the rags were kept Scotty took the top one from the pile and dabbed Joe's hand dry. Resting it on top their combined hands, he opened a lower cabinet and pulled out a mason jar of lard, unscrewing the lid. He took the rag off that he had rested on their hands and proceeded to take a bit of the lard on his fingers. Opening Joe's hand, he rubbed it over the nasty gash. Joe's icy heart had been effectively melted away by the care he took of him.

He was such a quiet child. There was a beauty to his serenity but a sadness and darkness in his eyes. All his thoughts and feelings on the matter, on the situation they were in, whatever they may be, was kept so close to his heart.

He pulled out a clean cheesecloth and proceeded to rewrap the wound. It was a crude job but the effort was there and so was the love behind it. When this was done Scotty placed his other hand on top, once again engulfing Joe's hand in his own. He looked up at Joe then as if asking for his approval. The moment between them was so pure. Joe gave the boy a soft smile to let him know how grateful he was. A smile in which Scotty returned but Scotty didn't leave it at that. Glancing down at Joe's garment he knew more had to be done.

He left Joe standing in the kitchen. A moment later he was coming back in with one of Joe's clean shirts in his hand. Yeah, perhaps it was time to get out of this bloodied thing.

As Joe was changing out and cleaning himself up of the excess remnant that had soaked through his shirt and onto his torso, Scotty had disappeared again, this time coming back in with both breakfast plates. Taking them to the sink where Joe now was, he got right to rinsing them up. Joe chuckled at his efforts. Placing them to dry, he went back out for the serving dish coming back in and washing that up too, then heading back out to wipe down the table.

When it was time to begin their chores, the small boy took the lead on that too. He struggled with the weight of the buckets as he always did, but when Joe went to help, Scotty would only let him take one bucket at a time and it couldn't be in his injured dominant hand. Scotty could only ever carry one bucket himself, and even though he attempted two this time, it could not be done. He just wasn't strong enough. It took them both a bit longer to finish their chores because of it.

~.~

Two hours later both boys were at the back of the house wondering now what to do with their time. Though the morning had been a good one (not accounting those early hours when they were both still locked up) a great sadness met them when they looked out at those despairing trees. They were away from Tom so there was no real reason to be sad but nothing about that sight invited them in this time. So, Joe was genuinely surprised when Scotty proposed.

"Do you want to pick more berries?" The half bucket which they had collected days ago had been thrown out for the birds to pick at. (That is, what hadn't been rationed out and hidden away in the hole.)

"Not really." Joe answered. His proposal curious to Joe. His response though was more in-line with Joe's own feelings.

"Neither do I." Joe looked down upon him with an ache in his heart before pushing it away and staring back out. What they could do with their time without upsetting Tom was a mystery. Their options had become more and more diminished.

Joe found some shade under the eaves and sat looking out into the trees. Scotty filled the spot next to him. Both boys were quiet for a long time. There was a time (Joe recalled his first meetings with the boy) when he was annoyed at the silence. He hated it. Now it was like family to him. He found comfort in it. He found comfort in Scotty. It saddened him to think of how he had come to this. How a boy like he would ever come to revel in silence. How he had come to be this kid? But it was easier to understand Scotty now. How he had come to be this kid.

Joe had been unable to get the events of these passing days out of his mind. He kept dwelling on them, replaying one until it rolled into another, wondering how it had come to be this bad. Was it him? Was he the cause of Tom's behavior? Was he really that bad of a kid? At times it seemed that Tom was really trying to be patient with him. He'd get rough with Scotty sure, with the both of them (he sure did have a heavy hand) but if Joe just kept from trying to involve himself it wouldn't be that bad. Scotty would be punished and they'd all get over it; but Joe was the type of kid that couldn't let things be. The 'budding vigilante' who stuck up for the little guy. The one who always seemed to find himself in a mess of trouble because of it. Maybe his pa was right. Maybe he did just go around looking for fights at every opportunity.

While all this was running through Joe's mind Scotty had something else on his.

"Do you miss your mom?" He asked breaking the older boy from his self-reproving thoughts. He glanced over at the question. Scotty as if ashamed for having asked kept his head lowered into his drawn-up knees. It had been a few days since they were last out here together. Had this been on his mind since then?

"Yeah of course I do." Scotty met his gaze with fluttering eyes before dropping them again as if he wasn't sure if he should say more. "It's okay to miss your mom too." The older boy coached.

"Pa doesn't like me to think of her." He summoned meekly. "He says I should move on."

A wave of anger washed over the protective boy. This was just one more mark on Tom's character.

He wouldn't know what he would do If he was not allowed to miss his mother. If his pa had been the controlling type? So overbearing that he controlled even his thoughts and feelings. Even to the point where you weren't even allowed to grieve over your own dead mother.

God how awful.

He was fortunate to have the pa he had. As much as his pa grieved for his own loss, he had never tried to stifle Joe in his own grieving process. Maybe, He thought, Tom was dealing with his pain in the only way he knew how. By trying to forget. Maybe he fears the boy conjuring up old feelings by talking about her. Wouldn't make it right, but that was at least a reason.

"Do you think he misses her?" He asked, to which the boy shrugged.

He didn't think he'd get more of an answer than that, but then the boy adduced.

"He and mom used to fight a lot." Joe gulped down some impending worry. "I don't think they were friends." He inhaled a breath and held it, wondering how bad these 'fights' might have gotten. Just what this boy may have seen, what he'd experienced before her death. He let the breath go as he mourned for the boy. The boy who's probably seen and experienced too much in his short lifetime. Way more than a boy like him should ever have to experience. He put his own chin in his knees reflecting on that.

"I do miss her." He summoned, recalling Joe's attention. "I miss the way she used to hold me."

This panged the older boy to hear. Remembering that feeling. How it felt being in his mother's arms. The feeling of her warm embrace. He remembers how safe and loved he felt there.

For this boy, he could imagine how much more that embrace might have meant to him. Just how much that embrace might have comforted him or what that hold really protected him from. Alternatively, what it was like, having that protection, no longer.

His heart broke for him.

The boy had just divulged more in these short statements then he had in the entire time he has known him. Somehow Joe felt he got a deeper understanding of the boy and his relationship with his father. He got a deeper understanding of Tom and the woman they left behind.

Still there were questions that arose in his mind. Questions that Joe didn't really need answers to. More just whimsical thoughts. What was important to Joe was that the boy finally, after all this time, felt safe enough to tell him something pure, something raw, something he kept close to his heart; something that challenged the thoughts he was just starting to allow himself to believe. That this boy didn't need protection.

Of course, he knew he did. Deep down in his gut he knew; but Tom's resolve challenged that thought. Tom's resolve did one more thing. It made him realize just how inadequate he was. He wished he could be the one to change things for Scotty but that could never be. This problem was way beyond him. Way more than he could ever handle by himself. It was proven to him just how inept he was every time he tried to step in. He knew that he would never be enough.

He sat in this slump knowing that there was nothing he could ever do for him to make this nightmare he lives go away.


A word from the author:

I'd just like to say thank you to Judi and Bloodedwolf for the kind reviews.

I'd like to hear from more of you. Let me know what you think of the story so far.