Thank you to the people who read & liked the beginning of my story! Such support often serves as my number one means of motivation. Thank you for reading.
Daisy would not see the Hatfield boy for three long years. In fact, she made it her mission to avoid any and every Hatfield. It started with the fervor of her father's words, and the way he would go on at night, especially if he had been drinking. He painted the Hatfields as wicked and sinful creatures with little wit and even less decency. Having never talked to a Hatfield, but only feeling the sharp burn of their judgments on her, Daisy coupled her ideals of them with the accusations of her father. In the end, she made a vow to avoid any sort of interaction with the scheming Hatfields; she would leave the feuding to the men.
The girl's mistrust of the opposing family was made all the more pronounced by Johnse Hatfield's advantageous corruption of her most beloved of sisters, Roseanna. Daisy remembered the night that Roseanna had gone missing, and the following day, when Roseanna, seemingly safe and sound, had stood before her father and pleaded with him to consent to a Hatfield and McCoy union. Daisy had watched from behind her father, studying her sister closely, listening to each and every word. She saw the tears of joy and then despair well in her sibling's eyes; saw the way her face brightened like the sun when she spoke of the love between Johnse and herself. Daisy had wanted to believe that the feelings and emotions she had read of in novels were real, and that Roseanna, good and sweet sister of hers, was lucky to know what it meant to love. Surely there were married folk in the world who were happier than her ma and pa.
But after her father's rejection of the marriage, things spiraled downward, until Roseanna, pregnant with a Hatfield bastard, was almost unrecognizable. And the lowly Johnse, who had offered shelter to Roseanna all for the benefit of "sowing his wild oats" (as Daisy's father put it), would no longer marry the woman who carried his child. To Daisy, it seemed that Johnse wanted only to produce more little Hatfield fools on any woman who was stupid enough to couple with him. For those reasons, Daisy could not help but revel in the kidnapping of the treacherous Johnse by her brothers. The decision was brash and idiotic at best, and the boys had been beaten black and blue by their father afterwards, but Daisy had to smile when she thought of the treatment Johnse must have endured at the hands of a hothead like Tolbert. Sometimes, late at night, when she missed Roseanna the most (for the poor girl had been sent off to live with their aunt), she dreamed that Johnse was still held in her uncle's old and unused cabin, being tortured for his sins. The dream intensified after the family learned of the marriage between Johnse and a member of their own family, Nancy McCoy. Did cousin Nancy know what had transpired with her new husband in the place where her father was murdered? Daisy sincerely hoped so.
On the rare occasions that Daisy and Roseanna were allowed to be together, Daisy assumed that her older sister was too embarrassed to ever verbally address her past. It was only after the baby had come and gone, leaving Roseanna as dry and empty as an old husk, that she had uttered a single word about her feelings towards Johnse. It had been late one night, after dinner, as the two washed dishes in the sink at their aunt's house. Roseanna began to sob uncontrollably, free of provocation, clutching at the sides of the sink and hovering over it as if she were going to be sick.
"Roseanna!" Daisy had been frightened over her sister's lessening health and the probability of an untimely death. She feared that her sister was having another fit of pain, but when she tried to offer comfort, Roseanna violently shook her head back and forth.
"Boy, did I love him," she whispered through the tears, almost smiling at the remembrance of that small bit of joy in an otherwise sorrowful life. As quick as a flash of lightning, the smile was gone, and she frowned at the nothingness of what she had become. She turned to Daisy then, her eyes flickering in the candlelight. "Whatever you do, Daisy McCoy, don't ever love a Hatfield man."
X X X
Every fall, there was an apple festival for all the folk of both Kentucky and West Virginia. Daisy knew that the event, like so many others, would be a melting pot of Hatfields and McCoys, who would spend the day drinking and fighting with one another. She had considered skipping the thing all together and staying at home, enjoying the prospect of an empty house where she could read in peace and quiet. But there would be a special boy there, a boy who had recently caught Daisy's attention. His name was Thornton, and he was tall, taller than any man in her family, and wildly handsome, with a square jaw covered in black stubble, and eyes the same clear blue as the sky. Daisy felt, at times, that Thornton was too perfect to be real, incredulous of both his looks and his mutual affection of her. Truth be told, Daisy had a hard time believing that any man could find her worthy of being a wife, although such had been the case in the last year or so. For Daisy had grown a good four inches in height, stretching and smoothing away the awkward lumps and bumps of her adolescence. She was still full, that was true, but in a pleasingly feminine way, her weight held in her breasts and hips and thighs. The bones of her face seemed to elongate, too, the cheekbones high and flush with her deep green eyes. And what once was considered by some to be a piggy mouth became full and lush and pink, illuminated against her white skin and ebony hair. Despite all of this, Daisy did not consider herself pretty, for she did not like to define herself in terms of the superficial. But many a man found her pleasing to look upon, including Thornton.
The day began as expected, with Daisy watching the younger children as they played games and socialized, free of the confines of family grudges. She admired them from the sidelines of races and apple-bobbing, smiling and laughing as proudly as if she were their mother. Ma and Pa had been strolling and weaving their way in-and-out of the niceties of seeing many distant relations, and Daisy was happy to be free of such expectations, as she was happy to be free from her older brothers, who lurked about the booze, seeming to prepare themselves for a fight as if it were a planned event. Daisy only cared to see one man on this day, and that was Thornton, who had yet to make his presence known to her.
As the afternoon wore on, a bite of frost working its way into the air, causing Daisy to pull her wrap tighter about herself, a chill raced up her spine, entirely unrelated to the weather. As she sat at a decorated table, her large eyes cast out towards the rambunctious children, she felt the inexplicable pressure of a gaze upon her back. She thought it be Thornton, who was merely spying on her from afar, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, it was not so.
On the far side of the grassy expanse, through dozens of other people and faces, Daisy saw the Hatfield boy, the same one from the courtroom all those years back, staring solidly at her. She knew enough about the family now to know that he was called "Cap," the knowledge of his identity validated by his infamous milky eye. So that's what was underneath the bandage, Daisy thought to herself, never breaking the gaze that locked between the two as if held together by a rope pulled taut. Daisy had heard folk talk of Cap and his ghost eye, of the way it incited unnerving chills in women and children, but she had never thought to put the rumor of his affliction together with the boy across the aisle who had been so open and honest in his appraisal of her. As she gazed at him now, the face as detailed as if he were sitting beside her, Daisy found that she was not disgusted or disturbed by the eye. If anything, she was fascinated by the frankness of it, and how it seemed to serve this boy, this man, Cap, as well as two good eyes on any other man. When she pulled her stare from the mismatched eyes, the face was as handsome as she remembered it, but older now, with stubble and facial hair and the ravages of living life. Cap shifted his shoulders, his upturned collar moving back and forth with the motion, and pushed his hat back and off of his face. Daisy was certain that he intended to walk over to her –
"Daisy!" A deep voice broke the spell, and a startled Daisy dragged her eyes from the Hatfield boy. It was Thornton, hovering over her in the failing sun so that his shadow wrapped around her. He was so large and square that the darkness swallowed her whole, and Daisy felt herself longing for the sun and its warmth, for the feel of its yellow glow upon her skin. Without meaning to, she imagined the hot orange rays falling over Cap, striking his hair like a crown, brightening that eye and whatever hid beneath it.
"Thornton!" she gasped, holding a white hand to her heaving chest. "You scared me. Where have you been?"
"Now don't you worry about that," Thornton replied, giving Daisy a good once over. He was slightly swaying where he stood, his eyelids heavy. It was late in the day, and Daisy knew that most of the men would be nearing drunk. She didn't want to believe such of her flawless Thornton, especially after hearing one or two nasty rumors of his drunken temper, but Thornton was, after all, a man, entitled to drink as he pleased. Daisy began to question the liberties of men in her mind, but was again interrupted by Thornton's booming voice.
"Where do you go when you get like that, you pretty little bird?" his speech was slightly slurred.
"Get like what?" she asked, smiling up at him.
"You get this look in your eyes, like you're not here, but like you're somewhere far away," he belched and laughed at the sound. "Where do you go?"
"I don't know," Daisy replied. "I guess I'm just thinkin'." Thornton laughed at that answer, clutching his belly with his two meaty paws.
"Now don't you go thinkin' too much, honey – it ain't good for a woman's delicate sensibilities." Daisy knew well enough that this was the way that most men thought, but she had never heard such come out of Thornton's mouth. She thought to chastise him, to tell him that she was allowed to think when and what she wanted to. But she knew that it would only cause hurt on both of their parts, and she did not wish to quarrel with the man she hoped to marry. So she simply smiled, a sad and complacent smile that did not reach her eyes. Thornton, believing himself to be in the right all along, returned the smile, proud of his assertion. His drunken eyes drifted down Daisy's face, over her plump lips, to rest on her breasts.
"Why don't you and I take a walk, sugar?" Thornton extended a hand to Daisy, and she hesitated only slightly before accepting the offer. As she slipped her hand inside Thornton's large and soft palm, she marveled at the way it swallowed her tiny bones, almost crushing them as he wrapped her arm through his.
X X X
The two talked amicably as they strolled further and further into the woods. The daylight was soft and diffused, the sun sinking lower with every step they took. Daisy had felt a sort of fear in taking a walk with a highly drunk Thornton, but he was proving to be as much of a gentleman as she knew him to be. He guided her easily along the path, pushing branches out of her way, even grabbing hold of her around the waist to lift her high above a long and deep puddle. She had laughed, breathlessly, safe on the other side of the obstacle, reveling in the comforting press of his grip around her small middle. The Hatfield boy was all but forgotten.
When at last the sounds of the festivities had all but faded away, Thornton stopped Daisy in a clearing under a low hanging branch whose red and orange leaves served as a canopy above their two heads. He boldly placed one hand back around Daisy's waist, his fingers fanning out to brush the top of her full rear. Daisy felt flushed with excitement, too dizzy with the hope of a kiss to be indignant towards Thornton's roaming hand. Slowly, Thornton leaned his big head down towards Daisy's, where she became momentarily choked by the stench of alcohol rolling off of his breath. She began to cough against the smell, placing her palms flat against Thornton's solid chest in an attempt to distance herself from the stink.
"Thornton, how much have you had to drink?" She asked without thinking, turning her head to the side. Thornton froze, his pursed lips falling slack, his sleepy eyes becoming dark and angry. He pulled away from Daisy, but his hand remained in place.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, and Daisy panicked, afraid that one wrong move had jeopardized their entire relationship.
"It's just that – your breath…" Daisy let her voice trail off, casting her eyes down towards the forest floor where the leaves crunched and shifted under her weight like prismatic sheets of paper. She couldn't bear to see the ire in Thornton's eyes, or the way his brow fell in disappointment. "We should go back…" she began to say, pulling away from Thornton to walk back towards the path. He violently clenched her upper arm, yanking her back towards him.
"We go when I say we go," he insisted, his face now black with malice. A war was raging inside of Daisy: a battle between her fear and anger and disbelief, all against the requirements of duty and love. She thought that she could have loved Thornton, and that the rest of their happy life together would grow from that love: a home, a family, a place to call their own, quiet and hidden from the incessant feuding of the Hatfields and McCoys. Where would her life go now? How could she rectify this problem?
"Thornton, please. You've just had a little too much to drink is all. Let's go back to the festival and get you somethin' to eat." The suggestion sounded reasonable to Daisy, but Thornton's expression only deepened. She felt his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm, like red embers of a fire. He was burning her alive. "Thornton, you're hurting me…"
"You women are all the same," he said through clenched teeth. "You tease us with your charms and your smiles, and then you say we can't have what was promised to us. You are just like you're whore sister…"
Daisy's free hand connected with Thornton's face, not in a meek and simple slap, but in a punch like her brothers had taught her. She heard the smack of skin against skin, like meat on a slab, and felt the impact reverberate through her entire arm, up into her small shoulder that began to ache. Thornton's heavy head fell back and away, and he relinquished his grip on Daisy's arm. But in a moment he was renewed again, quickly shaking himself back into place, the thick bones of his face unmoved by her attack. His visage was obsidian, deadly, obliterating what small shred of confidence Daisy had left in the good and kind Thornton that she had remembered.
Daisy knew that she had to run, that she had to free herself from this threat. In a split second she was gone, holding her skirts high as she swished through the leaves. Her shawl fell away from her and she let it go, not wanting to hinder herself. Even so, Thornton caught up to her in easy and long strides, wrapping his arms around her and throwing all of his weight into the hold so that the two fell to the ground in a heap of limbs. Daisy screamed and kicked and scratched, digging her nails deep into the tender flesh of Thornton's cheek. He howled in pain and pushed himself onto her, in the same motion pulling his fist back and then down again to connect with her own cheek.
The world stopped spinning, everything that had been racing now slowed to a dull and relentless motion. Daisy could no longer hear the birds in the trees, the people at the festival, the leaves as they crunched underneath her. There was only a muted ringing in her ears, and the knowledge that a man lay atop her, taking advantage of her prone form. She felt him fondle her breasts, tearing open the buttons of her blouse to get at the skin underneath. She felt his hand between her legs, working through the layers of skirts to reach the most delicate part of her. She felt his breath against her neck, putrid and hot, and the whispers he fed to her ears.
"This'll teach ya, you stupid bitch. I'll show you how a man fucks a woman…" Daisy heard all and knew all, and yet her limbs had filled with lead, just as her head had filled with cotton. She could do nothing but scream from inside of the shell of her body as Thornton clumsily tried to take his pleasure of her. I'm going to end up just like Roseanna, she thought. Who will love me now?