White Gate Heart

• Chapter Two •

CHAPTER TWO

It was dark by the time I had placed Jamie into a paddock. I looked down at my bruised arms and saw the bite marks and blood trickling down my arm. Looking back up, I saw her kick up her heels in glee and freedom. She whinnied a greeting to Delilah, our work donkey. Delilah pinned her ears at the loud new mare, then returned to her grazing safely on the other side of the white fence. She was just like an old woman whom hated to be bothered by boisterous youngsters.

The lead rope was still tied around her dark sweaty neck as she lay down with a grunt. I shook my head and smiled, weighing all of my pain as worth it to see the mare truly happy in her small freedom. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Lydia.

"Father will be angry with you," she spoke softly. I nodded, turning around to focus back on Jamie.

"The worst he would do would not feed me supper," I snarled jokingly.

"Do not jest, Rebekah. He's in a horrid mood today. He whipped Thomas with a wooden stick  ten times, then sent him out to the shed to sleep for tonight."

"Why would Father do such?" I questioned with fury, my full attention now given.

"Thomas had stolen four apples off of the Daniels' apple tree. They didn't care, but Father thought of it as a crime he could not bear in the 'household of Wills,'" she replied with a sad sigh near the end. We were all growing with deep concern and fear of our father's increasing resentment for all we do. With all the thoughts running through my mind, I was unaware of Lydia's sorrow until she started sniffling. Her green eyes, a distinct copy of Father's, were overflowing with tears. 

Last week, Lydia was given a whack by Father for talking to a Rebel boy. It was just a casual conversation, one that had no intention of becoming anything more. But Father forced her to take the Loyalist's pledge in front of the entire village to prove her loyalty to the King. He had too much to drink, as usual. 

I shook my head and cradled my it in my hands, resting it on the fence post.

"She has a beautiful spirit, but I strongly suggest that you return her before Father sees her," Lydia noted with finality, wiping away her tears in an attempt to appear tough.

"No. No one else would take her. She needs a home, and a chance."

Lydia groaned in pity for me, then silently crept away, leaving me in the night darkness. I finally turned to face the house and walked up the hill. It was curfew and I had better get inside.

As I opened the door, Father was waiting for me at the door with Willson at his side, both with arms crossed and brows furrowed in my direction. Taking deep breaths, I stepped forward and gave them a polite smile. Willson's eyebrow perked up at me, daring me to speak. I glared in his direction then glanced over towards Father.

"F-Father. How was your day?" I asked, stuttering over my words from pure nerves. My breathing grew ragged at the sight of Father's eyes, wide and slightly red; evidence of the alcohol. 

A maniacal laugh erupted from his jowls. I flinched in response and avoided his eyes, looking to Willson instead. At least he was a more sober man to resort to. I felt nauseous as Father took a step forward and grabbed my chin firmly in his rough hands, turning my face towards his. I gagged at the overwhelming scent of whiskey infiltrating my senses.

"Good, very good. How about yours?" he questioned me. I cringed at his calm tone, then smiled weakly, wiping my sweaty palms on my apron.

"Um very well Father. I.. I.. got a horse for myself, using the money I saved up," I said softly.