Freedom in Marriage: A Southern Historical Romance ✅

Chapter Four

**This has not been edited or proofread.**

Easton

It was barely four in the afternoon when I got home, but that didn't matter to a drunk bastard like my father. I could hear the yelling from outside when I came to a stop. Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and tucked away all of the warm, fuzzy feelings spending time with Catherine had given me. Then, I stepped out of the carriage, passed the reins off to the young man waiting, and headed into the house to deal with whatever was wrong.

My mother was holding her cheek when I walked inside, but otherwise, she seemed unaffected by the hateful words my father was spewing at her. My little sisters and Ethan were missing, so I could only assume Ethan had taken them somewhere safe so they weren't faced with his wrath.

Because when he got angry and drunk, everyone was a target. And my little sisters didn't deserve that.

"What is going on?!" I barked. I latched my hand around my father's frail wrist when he raised his hand to smack my mother again. She quickly took the opportunity to escape and made her way up the stairs to her room. I released Father's wrist, glaring at him. "I could hear you all the way from the street."

"Caught your mother eye-fucking one of the workers," he sneered.

I scoffed. "You think you have any right to judge her for what she does when you have another woman pregnant with your child?" I demanded. "You think she doesn't know that? Mother knows everything. You haven't figured that out after all these years of marriage?"

He waved me away, stumbling toward the stairs. "This is none of your business," Father muttered.

"My house, my business," I reminded him. "Don't walk up those stairs. You'll break your damn neck." He ignored me, still determined to walk his drunk ass up them. "Pa!" I snapped, calling him the name I hadn't called him since I was a mere boy. "Stop!"

He raised another foot, and that was all it took. He swayed, and I couldn't move in time to catch him. The audible snap of his neck rang through the room just as my brother emerged at the top of the stairs. He stared in horror at the crumpled form of our father before quickly rushing back to the room I could hear the girls chattering in.

"Stay in here," I heard Ethan tell the girls as I stared at my father's lifeless form on the stairs.

Mother came to the top of the staircase and shook her head, muttering, "Good riddance," before she made her way down, walking past his body like it was just another day in the Abernathy house.

Years of abuse had made her indifferent to just about anything happening. Ethan and I had never been deaf, and the walls in this house were thin. We heard every time he raped her. Every time he beat her. Every time he yelled at her.

And as I stared at him, I realized I didn't feel much different than she did. Though there was a sense of relief at having him gone, the weight of my family now rested heavily on my shoulders. The countdown for me to get married was now ticking loudly inside of my head. Courting Catherine would become tougher since I now had to work more. Ethan was good at handling it, but it wasn't his responsibility.

Ethan came to stand beside me, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "What do we do?" he quietly asked me.

I sighed and stepped forward. "Help me get his body into his room," I told him, keeping my voice down so Emma and Evangeline wouldn't overhear us. "Then, I'll head into town and get this taken care of."

Ethan moved to grab Father's feet, and I grabbed his shoulders. Grunting, I lifted him up, and with Ethan's help, we got him laid out on his bed. I shut the door behind us, and Ethan followed me to the front door.

"Keep the girls out of that room," I told him. "I'll break the news to them when I get back. And keep Ma away." I shook my head. "She's doesn't need to be around them anymore. Just because we have years of abuse hardening us doesn't mean our little sisters do, and she will ruin his image in their eyes."

Ethan nodded in agreement. "I'll keep them occupied," he assured me. "Stay safe, brother."

I nodded, clapped a hand to his shoulder, and slipped back out into the hot summer sun, heading for the stables at the back of the property.

"Heading out, Mr. Abernathy?" Jule, our stable worker, asked me as I walked into the shaded area.

"Yes. Any chance Blue is saddled up?" I asked him, referring to the horse I'd gotten on my fifteenth birthday. It was the last gift Father had ever gotten me. Blue was a stallion—big, black, and sleek. He could've been a prize-winning horse, but I refused to run him ragged like that.

Plenty of men enjoyed it, but I just found it to be cruel.

"Sure is," Jule told me. He unlocked Blue's paddock and led him out by the reins, handing them to me. "Ride safely now, you hear?"

I smiled at him, surprised it came easy with everything that had happened in the past few days since I'd been home. "I will. Thank you, Jule."

He tipped his hat at me as I slung myself up into the saddle, and then I headed into town, going straight for the coroner to get my father's body out of the house.