Read Online Bitter Eden by Sharon Anne Salvato - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Anne Salvato
Ads: Link
down to w r ait for the coach that would remove the problem of Callie Dawson.
Callie remained locked in the little room that had looked so welcoming when she had first arrived. In the beginning she was hurt that Mrs. Peach hadn't trusted her to stay in her room and had locked the door. As the hours passed and the sounds of girlish laughter mixed with that of men, Callie began to understand. She knew little of white slavery other than what she had read secretly in the newspapers. She collected her few scraps of knowledge, putting them together in a horrifying reality. She tried to open the door, using what she could find in the room as a substitute key. Nothing worked.
She tried something simpler. She knocked lightly on the door. It was opened to her. Shyly, she said she had
to tend to herself. A nodded assent, and Callie walked magnificently free toward the back staircase on the outside of the house. At the top of the staircase, Callie looked tentatively at the dark stairs, then back at the man standing guard near her room. She gathered up her long nightgown and ran, leaping downward into the darkness. The wooden steps were cold and clammy against her bare feet; the damp winter wind billowed inside the thin fabric of her nightgown.
"Where you think ye're goin', girlie?"
Callie stifled a frightened scream. At the bottom of the stairs stood a tall, burly man dressed as a footman. His big hand caressed her shoulder before he gripped her arm like a vise.
"Out back," Callie stammered.
"Mrs. P. makin' her girls go out back in the dead o' winter? Not likely, girlie. What I oughter do is let her think ya ran, an' keep ya fer myself. That's what I oughter do."
"Let me go. . . . Please, I'll only go 'round back. I ... I promise."
He laughed. In a quick move he ducked down and grabbed her behind her knees, his shoulder jolting into her stomach as he carried her back upstairs like a bundle of potatoes.
In the upper hall he punched the man Callie had fooled into letting her free. "Ya damned fool, she nearly bolted. Hadn't been fer me, Mrs. P'd have your arse. Go get her. She'll see to this baggage."
"Don't tell her. Please, I won't try . . ."
He threw her onto the bed and leaned over her, his broad, pockmarked face thrust into hers. "Here's where you belongs, girlie—on the mattresses. Fergit it, an' next time I'll not be worryin' how fast I gits you up here."
Callie turned her head from him. He grasped her
face, spittle glistening on his lips as he pressed his mouth against hers, forcing his tongue between her teeth. The man fumbled with the placket of his trousers. His exposed flesh burned hot against her thigh. Under his groping hands Callie squirmed, kicking and clawing at him.
A sharp crack sounded. The man bellowed in quick pain and rage, arching against Callie. He rolled over her across the bed, gaining his feet. His face was red and contorted, his hands clenched and ready to attack. His trousers sagged ludicrously around his hips.
Mrs. Peach stood steely-eyed and unintimidated, staring him into docility.
Callie jumped from the bed, seeking safety -anywhere. "Mrs. Peach! He tried . . ."
The cane whistled through the air and came down on the girl's shoulder. She screamed, her arms raised to protect her face and head. "Obedience, you little bitch! Defy Mrs. Peach! My girls are obedient!" She struck Callie's back and buttocks repeatedly with the ebony cane. Callie backed away, crying and stumbling, trying to put the chair between herself and her tormentor. The cane came down on her upper arm.
"Stop! Please! It hurts me!"
"Obedience! All my girls are obedient!"
"Don't! Please!" Callie screamed, tears choking her.
Twice more the cane whistled and struck, once on her back, once on her head. Then Mrs. Peach straightened her dress and hair and walked out of the room, taking the footman with her.
Callie huddled where she stood, stifling sobs, afraid to make a sound. She hurt And there was no escape. This was to be
Callie remained locked in the little room that had looked so welcoming when she had first arrived. In the beginning she was hurt that Mrs. Peach hadn't trusted her to stay in her room and had locked the door. As the hours passed and the sounds of girlish laughter mixed with that of men, Callie began to understand. She knew little of white slavery other than what she had read secretly in the newspapers. She collected her few scraps of knowledge, putting them together in a horrifying reality. She tried to open the door, using what she could find in the room as a substitute key. Nothing worked.
She tried something simpler. She knocked lightly on the door. It was opened to her. Shyly, she said she had
to tend to herself. A nodded assent, and Callie walked magnificently free toward the back staircase on the outside of the house. At the top of the staircase, Callie looked tentatively at the dark stairs, then back at the man standing guard near her room. She gathered up her long nightgown and ran, leaping downward into the darkness. The wooden steps were cold and clammy against her bare feet; the damp winter wind billowed inside the thin fabric of her nightgown.
"Where you think ye're goin', girlie?"
Callie stifled a frightened scream. At the bottom of the stairs stood a tall, burly man dressed as a footman. His big hand caressed her shoulder before he gripped her arm like a vise.
"Out back," Callie stammered.
"Mrs. P. makin' her girls go out back in the dead o' winter? Not likely, girlie. What I oughter do is let her think ya ran, an' keep ya fer myself. That's what I oughter do."
"Let me go. . . . Please, I'll only go 'round back. I ... I promise."
He laughed. In a quick move he ducked down and grabbed her behind her knees, his shoulder jolting into her stomach as he carried her back upstairs like a bundle of potatoes.
In the upper hall he punched the man Callie had fooled into letting her free. "Ya damned fool, she nearly bolted. Hadn't been fer me, Mrs. P'd have your arse. Go get her. She'll see to this baggage."
"Don't tell her. Please, I won't try . . ."
He threw her onto the bed and leaned over her, his broad, pockmarked face thrust into hers. "Here's where you belongs, girlie—on the mattresses. Fergit it, an' next time I'll not be worryin' how fast I gits you up here."
Callie turned her head from him. He grasped her
face, spittle glistening on his lips as he pressed his mouth against hers, forcing his tongue between her teeth. The man fumbled with the placket of his trousers. His exposed flesh burned hot against her thigh. Under his groping hands Callie squirmed, kicking and clawing at him.
A sharp crack sounded. The man bellowed in quick pain and rage, arching against Callie. He rolled over her across the bed, gaining his feet. His face was red and contorted, his hands clenched and ready to attack. His trousers sagged ludicrously around his hips.
Mrs. Peach stood steely-eyed and unintimidated, staring him into docility.
Callie jumped from the bed, seeking safety -anywhere. "Mrs. Peach! He tried . . ."
The cane whistled through the air and came down on the girl's shoulder. She screamed, her arms raised to protect her face and head. "Obedience, you little bitch! Defy Mrs. Peach! My girls are obedient!" She struck Callie's back and buttocks repeatedly with the ebony cane. Callie backed away, crying and stumbling, trying to put the chair between herself and her tormentor. The cane came down on her upper arm.
"Stop! Please! It hurts me!"
"Obedience! All my girls are obedient!"
"Don't! Please!" Callie screamed, tears choking her.
Twice more the cane whistled and struck, once on her back, once on her head. Then Mrs. Peach straightened her dress and hair and walked out of the room, taking the footman with her.
Callie huddled where she stood, stifling sobs, afraid to make a sound. She hurt And there was no escape. This was to be
Similar Books
