Chapter
The Belly of a Cow
His body felt heavy as he opened his eyes. He was forced to come in to his senses quickly as Paul was in the process of ripping Scotty from the bed. His nerves were doing acrobats beneath his skin. Watching the abuse of the young son, he couldn't figure why this was happening again. Realization flooded in. He had slept in. It was his job to wake Scotty early so they could take care of the sheets before Tom could catch them but they had slept right through the early hour.
God, how late was it?
His body felt heavy and to add to this weight was the heavy burden of guilt he had in watching Scotty being whipped for his own sloth. The boy was being punished because Joe had done exactly what Tom was always accusing him of doing. Being lazy and sleeping in.
When the boy was drug out of the room Joe was only partially relieved. For although the beating had subsided Scotty's torment wasn't over. He'd seen enough to know that.
He spent this time stripping the bed while waiting for their return. What else could he do? Still, he couldn't help but feel that what was happening to Scotty was his fault. Balling the sheets, a terrible shrieking reverberated through the walls from the outside. The kind of cry that called him from his repentance and into action. Flinging the linen aside, he bolted from the bedroom and stormed his way down the stairs heading for the front door. Expecting them to be at the horse trough, they were not. The water was agitated though as if they were just there.
The shrieking which echoed across the morning grounds was coming from his right. Just on the other side of the kitchen door. Scotty was clinging to his pa like a cat fighting bath water. Tom, peeling him away with full intention of putting him in that hole in the ground. Joe's stomach twisted knowing just how terrifying that hole could be, especially knowing you were going in there with the full intention to thirst and starve and to be dejected and forsaken. The way Scotty fought his pa's efforts was as if this was a feeling that he'd experienced before and was hell-bent on not ever feeling it again.
The boy tried but he could not overcome his pa's efforts.
The moment was surreal.
For the first time Joe got to see what it was like from the outside looking in. Recalling what it had been like when he had fought so terribly. Imagining it were he now, thrown down, discarded like detritus. Imagining that it were his soul scrambling up, reaching for the light as the doors closed above his head. Imagining it were he, locked in the darkness and his heart twinge.
The wafting cries forcing him to come back into the moment. Reminding him that it was not he tucked up underneath this earth. There was another unfortunate soul being tormented now. The soul of a wretched child and he was watching it happen. Invisible himself now to Tom's wrath. Staring on like no more than a hallowed specter.
It was as if Scotty had taken Joe's punishment. Joe had slept in and so was unable to wake Scotty to change the bedding on time. Joe had slept in because it had taken him so long to fall asleep on the night prior. It had taken so long to fall asleep because he had been caught for his misdeeds and was afraid of what punishment he would have to face. The punishment that never came. The punishment that came to Scotty instead. Joe felt ill just in the effort it took to keep his composure.
It may not have been him tucked up in that hole but when Scotty was buried a piece of Joe's heart was buried with him.
~.~
Breakfast had been bitter that morning. Tom was leant back in his chair with his cup by his lips. His paper resting over his lap. An occasional blow and sip from the dark liquid. On the whole ignoring Joe and his turmoil but for every once in a while, looking up to gauge the boy's opinion on the matter. Joe kept thinking that at any moment Tom would bring up the bowl and decanter. That he would confirm what Joe was already thinking, that Scotty was down there because of him, but he did not.
He had lifted his paper and escaped behind that. Joe looked out across the table at the empty chair and mourned. He knew that boy down there was hungry, as he had been. He couldn't quite enjoy his portion thinking of him or of what Tom knew.
"I expect you can take care of the linen?" He finally broke the silence before getting up.
"Yes sir."
"Don't forget your regular chores, Joe. Those trees need your attention."
"Yes sir." Then Cartwright was left alone.
As was expected of him he cleaned the table and the dishes. Then went up to take care of the linen. He tried to push his thoughts away from the fact that Scotty was locked up because of his carelessness.
With him at the horse trough and that cellar some 30 feet at his back, his thoughts remained on that boy in the ground. He had some reprieve upon hanging the linen at the back of the house, then tending to Mule whom was behind the shed; but when he had to come back and water those trees which took twice as long without the aid of his companion. He had to walk back and forth in front of that cellar with each bucket load. He couldn't help but eye that door at each pass.
Finally, he had finished with the last pour and crossed back over to put the bucket's back in their place which was adjacent the basin. He had some time to himself before lunch. Looking about at the empty yard he breathed in the suffocating freedom. It just wasn't the same without that boy by his side.
He knew there was only one thing he could do with his time. He felt that it was finally safe enough to approach. Even still he took each step with deliberate caution, feeling as if the very air would come out and get him. He eyed that lock as he was above it. Gosh he wished he could pry that thing open. He didn't think Tom would be too pleased about that. Kneeling before the door he pressed his ear down into it. He heard scuffing and whimpering. Scotty was right on the other side perhaps on the top step in a state of readiness for someone to open the door for him and let him out. Joe couldn't do that but he could do something else. He could keep him company. Do his best to make his stay a little less miserable.
"Hey, Scotty. You doing alright?" The whimpering ceased. "I could imagine not so much." He repined with a breath. "Listen, I know it's tough being in there but you'll get through it. I know you will and when you get out everything will be back to the way it was. I promise it will." Scotty only replied with sniffles. Joe couldn't help the guilt that built up in him for what he had done. "Look, I'm sorry for not waking you. I just slept in." He was about to say, 'I don't know why' but that would have been a lie so he refrained. He knew it was his fault but admitting so was so painfully difficult. Letting Scotty know that he was down here because of him. What was the point? It didn't change his circumstances.
His friend was so scared of being put in here. Of all he has seen Tom do to his son, this place was a place of terror for him.
"Listen, I got to say, that was a mighty ferocious battle you were having with your pa there. You may be small but you have some big fight when you want to. Oh, there's nothing wrong with being small." He was afraid by the boy's silence that the compliment might not have come off as well as he intended. "I'm small for my age too. But that doesn't mean small people don't have fight. ...Scotty, can I ask you something? The reason why you fought your pa so hard, you were scared of being put down in here, weren't you? You've been put down here before, haven't you? You know what it's like to be in here. You didn't want to experience that again." Maybe he was just projecting but somehow, he thought not. That terror was real. "I think it's okay to be scared. I know what it's like to be in here." He had depressed even himself with these thoughts. He was supposed to be helping. "Listen, I'm going to be here with you as long as I can. Okay? We'll get through this together."
He settled himself prone atop the door and stretched his mind for a way to cheer him.
"Hey, you know why cowboys make the best company? ... Because they're always horsing around." He chuckled at his own joke until he realized it were just he laughing. "No? Not funny? Okay, How about this one? What did one cow say to the other when she was taking up too much room in the corral. ..."Moo-ve over." What did the other cow say back? "You got beef?" Not a laugh?" He did the funny voices and everything. "That's okay. Sorry. All I got are range jokes. Oh, like this one. You know why mountain ranges make such good comedians? Because they're Hill-arious. How about this one? You know what they call a calf that's too small to feed himself? Udder-ly Short. You know because it can't reach its momma's udders. Never mind. That was a short joke. That may have been a bit over your head. You know cause we're short." He giggled at his own humor. "That was another short joke." He wasn't getting anything from the boy though and took a contemplative sigh. He still wasn't helping.
"You know it isn't all bad being short. You know the good thing about it is? When I get too tired to walk, my big brother will just put me right in his handy little pocket and carry me home. What was that? Was that a laugh? There you go." He smiled with him. "That one I didn't make up. That's been told to me more than once in my lifetime. By both my brothers and even a few ranch hands.
Hey, you know something people like us are really good at? This one isn't a joke. I'm just thinking here. Hide and Go Seek. I'm serious. I could tuck myself into the tiniest corners. My brothers would spend hours looking for me if I let them. Ooh and rock climbing. You might think you need to be tall for that but not true. I mean sometimes it helps to have longer arms. Sometimes I'd get myself into some pretty tough scrapes and I think, man if only I had longer arms, but for the most part I could do just what my older brothers were doing and more so. I could get myself into places that they couldn't. I could crawl in and out of the smallest spaces, under the lowest rocks, making friends with the caterpillars. I'd give my brother's the slip all the time. They be madder than hornets trying to come get me." He smiled warmly at the memory and ached just a little bit thinking of them. Fearing a tear would come in place of laughter he fought the pain back. He wasn't with them now and he would just have to accept that.
"Do you know any stories?"
"I'm hungry." Those words were enough to get that tear that he was holding onto to fall.
"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know how to get you any food." He wished he could tell him to go behind the stairs, that there was a surprise there waiting for him but that just brought him back to the same tired circle of why Scotty was in here to begin with. If he could take this from him, he would. Then he considered. "Hold on." He might not be able to get him food but he could get him water. He just had to make sure he didn't get caught.
A moment later he was back with a full glass in hand. "Open your mouth. I can pour it in." He wasn't sure where Scotty's mouth was but maybe he could find it if he poured towards the middle. A little at first to make sure he got it. "How's that? Is that good?"
"More." Joe tipped the glass again same spot. It went on like this until the glass was near empty and Scotty said stop.
"Is that good?"
"Thank you." Came the meek reply. Little fingers peeked through the cracks and his heart ached seeing them. Joe set the glass down and reached back. He could squeeze in enough just to make contact. Enough to touch the tips of the first two fingers. The energy that passed between that simple touch was astounding. His mind went back to those dark days of despair. How much one could grow to crave this contact when deprived of it to this degree.
It was like being in the belly of a cow. That was a weird analogy even he could admit. Where that thought came from, he wasn't sure. Some memory. Not his memory. A story. A part of a story which saddened him and resided with him. He didn't think it was right when he read that part. It was unbecoming of the great man that happened to. What a sour part of the story but he liked the story nonetheless.
That's a story he could tell. He knew that one by heart. He's had it read to him time and again when he was small and read it himself a few more times after. Somehow it just seemed to fit now. He was the perfect sized hero.
"Say, have you ever heard the story of Tom Thumb the Great?" He presumed a "no" by the silence. "Oh, he was a great and mighty warrior. He took down a race of giants you know. People called him Tom Thumb because of his punitive size. He was a small sort of chap. I picture him to be about you or me. People would make fun of him though. Refer to him as pocket size. Like my big brothers make fun of me. That's how he got the name Thumb. As a mockery, but it really became a badge of honor. You see because even though he was really small, he had very big fight. He's a legend. Actually, there's different versions. All kinds of tales about Tom Thumb. He was one of King Arthurs Knight's. The version I have is written like a play.
"Let me see." He thought back to the book he used to read. 'His martial prowess Caesars' far exceeded." He recited. "Thumb freed his country and could have won himself a crown needed.'
If you're wondering what 'martial prowess' means, it means military skill. I didn't know that one on my own. I had to ask my brother. He's the one that read this book to me.
And so, he began his narrative. Telling the story as he remembered it. Getting in to some of the characters voices himself. Describing the looks and personalities and motive's of each character just as had gotten stuck in his brain. He had gotten to the part where the cow had swallowed up the hero when he stopped to make the correlation.
You know, I suppose that being in that cellar is like being in the belly of a cow." That was as far as he had gotten.
"What are you doing there?" He startled upwards. Tom was coming over from the shed.
"I was just talking to Scotty." He said with a gulp.
"Why? What are you doing?"
"Nothing?" They had both looked down to see the glass that Joe had used earlier tipped over in the dirt.
"You were just talking huh?" Joe gulped again. "Are you allowed to be talking to him?"
"Yeah?"
The slap fell across his cheek. He really wished he'd quit doing that, he fumed as he held his face.
"Are you? When he's in the middle of being disciplined?"
"I didn't know I wasn't allowed to be."
"Really Joe?"
"You never told me it was against the rules."
"I have to tell you every little thing? You couldn't figure this one out on your own? Tell me, has Scotty ever been out here while you were being disciplined?"
"No. I just assumed..."
"What Joe?"
"Nothing."
"What Joe?"
"That you had him locked up too."
Tom entered into a strange state of quietude. Joe was looking for some sort of confirmation that he'd been right about thinking this or an astounding no but neither he got. Just a strange quietude met him.
"I assumed you would be in the kitchen by now whipping up lunch. It's way after the hour." The pater had averted the subject and the eyes of the boy. "Perhaps all that sleeping in had thrown off your timeline." His tone low and dismissive. "Here I thought we were making progress."
"I'll make lunch."
"Do me a favor, Joe. Get that glass out of the dirt."
"Yes, sir. Mr. Tomlinson?" He recalled his attention. "Am I to make lunch for Scotty too?"
"No and he is to get no more water either. We've got to do something to get him to stop wetting the bed. I'm starting to think he's getting too much of it throughout the day. Oh, and Joe; you leave that boy alone while he's in there. Unless you're expecting the same treatment."
The portent caused his stomach to twist; knowing what it was like down there and just how easily it could be him, again.
~.~
Though hungry, the twisting in his stomach took its toll when it was time to sit down and enjoy the sandwich he had made for himself.
Right, it should. It wasn't right for him to be eating without the boy anyways.
The rest of the day Joe was stuck in his head. The guilt he had only worsening to the point where it made him physically ill.
Things would get better once Scotty was released. Until then Joe would inadvertently suffer with him.
~.~
Scotty was let out that evening looking worse for wear. His appearance caused Joe to wonder, was this how he looked every time he was brought out?
Sitting around the supper table the boy was drawn in. His face was paled and eyes darkened. Scotty looked (by all appearances) like a specter. The boy made small, calculated movements while eating his meal, wholly doing his best to not draw the pater's attention. Joe paid more mind to Scotty than his own food. He would find himself staring, probably uncomfortably so, upon him. He'd catch himself, take another bite, glance at the pater, or rather the parchment wall that he hid behind then glide his eyes right back to the small boy. Why he did this he couldn't say for sure. It's just that Scotty's appearance had been so changed in that short epoch of time, it was hard for him to believe that he was still alive. Oh he moved around like he was, though his movements were small and calculated. Maybe he was looking for something from the boy. Some life, some spark within him, to let Joe know he was still in there somewhere.
Forty minutes later they were readying themselves for bed. Scotty was quiet and drawn in then too. Making small movements. He kept long stares as if his mind was still down there in that hole. Joe with gentle prodding had to help the boy change into his night-ware. It was almost as if Joe was afraid of breaking Scotty if he pushed him too hard to snap out of it, so he matched his demeanor guiding him softly into bed.
Even the way he positioned himself on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling only compound Joe's worry. He crawled in over and settled himself at his side putting an arm over him to give him comfort. The boy had his eyes open staring at the ceiling, not directly above him but off to the right, away from Joe. He still seemed to be so far away. Joe swallowed his worry. Glancing down at the green woven blanket at their feet, he took ahold and pulled it over the both of them hoping to give Scotty the comfort of something familiar and tucked it up under the chin of his companion. That was when a single streak strolled from his eye which the moonlight illuminated. That was all it took for Joe to know, Scotty was still with him.
"Oh Scotty."
At those words the petite boy rolled into Joe, tucking his head into his breast and wept. Joe wrapping his arms around him to let him know it was safe to do so.
~.~
Through all this Scotty had never brought up what it had been like for him down there (not that Joe needed him to as he was well-versed) but for his own sake so as to not bury it within but this was just what he did. He'd wept himself into sleep that night and when he'd awoken he'd never spoken of it again. This day would fall away into the pile of unforgiving days and new days would arise bringing with them new troubles.
One more thing had yet to be mentioned. The entire day Tom hadn't brought up to Joe what he'd found in the cellar. Just what it was that led to these events unfolding the way they did.
