Bonds of the Heart

By Matthew Holley

From the time Emma Watts was a little girl, she was taught to be prejudice. Prejudice against black folks. She was taught they were different and something to be afraid of. Emma carried her prejudice with her into adulthood. She avoided black folks at all cost. But life has a strange way of forcing people to face what they fear. Emma finds herself trapped on a ranch after losing her entire family with no one to turn to but an abusive husband and a small band of former slaves who live on the ranch. Through desperation, Emma soon learns that her opinion and views of black folks couldn't be farther from the truth. She learns to trust those she once feared, to depend on them, to want their company, and, eventually, to even love them. Emma learns that the bonds of the heart has no color.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Holley
• Release date: Apr 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310500831

Matthew Holley

I live in Englewood, Florida and own a construction business.I'm 42 and just starting to write. I love it! I write for the love of expressing my thoughts and ideas and for the escapism as I enter my make-believe worlds where anything can happen and nothing is out of reach but the limits of my imagination.

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Bonds of the Heart

Copyright 2014 by Matthew Holley

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER ONE

It was the first week of an unusual cool spring in the town of St. Joseph, Missouri in the year 1867, a year that would change Emma Watts’ views and notions of the world she lived in, her beliefs in her own shortcomings and frailties, as well as her preconceptions and misunderstandings of the black race. But that change had not yet occurred. Emma stepped off a sun-bleached wooden boardwalk that ran parallel to the many shops and stores of the bustling town. She hurriedly walked across the dusty, red dirt street that ran through the middle of St. Joseph; a man sitting high in the riding seat of a stagecoach pulled back on his reigns to slow his horses as Emma crossed his path. With a thankful nod and a smile for the stagecoach driver, Emma stepped up onto the boardwalk and continued toward her destination. In her arms she carried a bag filled with items she had just purchased from Johnson’s General Store: sewing yarn for making a scarf before winter came back around, baking yeast for her first attempt at baking an apple pie, lavender soap for washing the day away, a comb because her old one was missing some of its teeth, and a fancy dress, the first store-bought dress she had ever owned. Emma was heading for the saloon in town where her husband, Saul, was having a few drinks for he had a need to celebrate just getting hitched. He and Emma had just been married by the Justice of the Peace just an hour ago.

Looking down the boardwalk in front of her, Emma promptly crossed back to the other side of the street and stepped onto the boardwalk. The boardwalk she had just left seconds before. A boardwalk that was no different than the one she had just been walking on. She chose to walk on this side despite the fact that the saloon where Saul was socializing was now on the opposite side of the street. She had almost subconsciously, and with little need of debate with herself, crossed the street out of a trepidation for what she had seen up ahead of her. For what she observed blocking the boardwalk. Down the boardwalk she had just left and in front of the town’s lumber mill were three Negro men unloading a wagon full of various lengths of untreated lumber. The three men looked harmless enough, none of them looking in Emma’s direction or showing any signs that they had anything on their minds other than their task at hand. Emma realized that even if the three Negro men did have sinful thoughts toward her, they probably wouldn’t be foolish enough to act upon them, not with so many white folks around to witness their evil deeds, but Emma wasn’t willing to take any chances. She walked along the other side of the street until she was well passed the three men before she crossed back over, letting escape an involuntary breath of relief that no harm had come to her. Her escaping breath was immediately followed by a self-criticizing scoff over how easily frightened she became in the presence of colored folks.

Emma didn’t consider herself a prejudice person, at least not compared to most of the rest of her family, definitely not compared to her father and her brothers. She didn’t believe colored folks should be mistreated or beaten or worse as many she heard had been. She didn’t believe anyone deserved the cruel mistreatment being endured by slaves, especially in the South where persecution still ran ramped for Negros, even after they had been legally freed. Emma was pleased President Lincoln had put into effect a law to abolish slavery. She didn’t feel one man had a right to own another. She quietly opposed slavery, yet she couldn’t ignore her nearly paralyzing, unwarranted fear whenever she came face to face with a Negro. From the time Emma was old enough to understand words, her two older brothers, Erick and Elliot, filled her head with their hatred for all Negroes. A hatred taught to them and imprinted into their young minds by their father. The two brothers would often tell their little impressionable sister such falsehoods as: You must keep a Negro well fed ‘cause if they get hungry enough, they’ll eat their own children or Don’t ever brush up against one of them because their blackness will rub off on you and you won’t ever be able to get it off no matter how much scrubbing you do or Don’t ever look them in the eyes. They’ll put a hex on you that will make you go stiff as a board. Then they can do whatever they want with you. Even cut out your heart and eat it right in front of you. Emma was now old enough to realize that many of the stories her brothers had fed her about Negroes were most likely fictitious, but still, the fear her siblings instilled in her as a young girl lingered stubbornly inside her very being like tree sap stuck to cotton. It was a fear she couldn’t evade. It was part of her. It was who she was. And there was always that possibility that her brother’s stories weren’t all wrong. Black folks did look different from white folks, so, it seemed to reason to Emma that they had to be different.

Emma reached the entrance to the town’s only saloon and stopped before stepping inside the establishment. The green-painted saloon door was propped open with a half-empty whiskey bottle allowing Emma to see inside the ginmill without having to enter inside such a place of ill repute. The overpowering odor of caustic cigar smoke, pungent beer, stale whiskey, and unbathed men forced Emma to scrunch her nose and compelled her to take a few steps backwards into cleaner air. She squinted her eyes and scanned inside the poorly lit saloon, through the thick smoke lingering in the air like a thick early morning fog, until she spotted Saul leaning against the bar on his right arm while his other arm was emptying a glass of beer down his throat. An older man, with a multicolored beard so long that it rested on the surface of the wooden, alcohol-stained bar top, sat to the left of Emma’s husband. The man with the beard enthusiastically talked with Saul, laughing loudly, and periodically slapping Saul on the back whenever he said something he felt Saul should agree with him on.

Emma, not willing to enter the saloon, waited patiently outside wishing Saul would notice she had finished shopping and was ready to start the long trip back home before night fell. She didn’t dare go inside and disturb him. Not when a man was drinking. Never when a man was drinking. She learned that bit of advice from her mother. Emma looked warily over her shoulder at the sun that was hanging low in the sky. She knew it was nearly a two-hour ride back home and she feared night would find her and Saul before they arrived home if they didn’t leave soon. Thanks to her brothers and their stories, Emma also feared the night. It wasn’t only because of the Negro’s ability to become invisible at night and snatch little girls straight out of their beds that she feared the night, it was also because of the savage red-skinned Indians who craved little girl’s flesh.

Miss, are you in need of assistance? A balding elderly gentleman asked, wearing a blue, pin-striped suit like a banker would wear and supporting thick-rimmed reading glasses across the bridge of his nose. He had approached Emma from inside the saloon. The man had a very kind smile across his face. I couldn’t help but notice you standing in the doorway. Are you looking for someone?

Saul Carver. He’s over there at the—.

I know Saul, the man chuckled. I know him well. I lost a bet with him a few months ago. I foolishly thought I could out drink him. Boy, was I wrong. He’s more like a fish than a man if you ask me. Whatcha want with that ole drunk?

I just got married to him, Emma said, trying to conceal the disappointment in her voice.

Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to call your husband a drunk, Mrs. Carver. Please, forgive me. I didn’t know.

Mrs. Carver. Emma noticeably cringed when the man called her Mrs. Carver. That name just didn’t sound right to her. She was Emma Watts. That the name her mother gave her at birth. Emma knew a woman was supposed to take the last name of her husband, but she just didn’t feel like she was married. It wasn’t the monumental event in her life full of joyous celebration she had imagined it would be when, as a little girl, she dreamed of her wedding day. She was not very keen on the idea of whom she had married. Saul wasn’t the handsome, benevolent prince of her adolescent daydreams. Saul and Emma had just been married, yet Emma had no more love for Saul than she did for a stranger on the street. Their union was more a marriage of convenience…of need… than anything else. As a young girl, whenever Emma imagined her future husband, he was nothing like Saul. Her dream husband was more the opposite of Saul as fire was to ice. She had always imagined her husband would be kind to her, loving, treat her with respect, not drink every chance he got, and never ever raised a hand toward her. But life gave her Saul.

When Emma became old enough to have suitors start calling on her, she had always shown little interest for any of them. The young men would come by and Emma would ignore them, disregard their silly complements and their trite words of romance, and she would eventually shoo them away. Emma didn’t want or desire a beau, let alone a husband, in her life. After her father died and her two older brothers, Erick and Elliot, left home to join the fighting, Emma’s life became perfect and placidly calm. She had everything she needed. Her mother, Eda, and her precious little sister, Ellie. She didn’t want to do anything to disrupt the way things were, like getting married.

During her early years, before her sister Ellie was born, Emma’s life had been filled with the drunken tantrums of her often inebriated father, Ebrahim. Several nights a week, after her acerbic father arrived home from working in the coal mines, Emma’s life would become a nightmare. For as long as Emma could remember, she would be forced to spend most nights hiding under her bed, fearful not just for herself, but largely for her mother. Emma couldn’t help but hear, even with her tiny hands held tightly against her ears, the awful, gut-wrenching sounds of her father beating on her mother. The horrible sound of fists hitting flesh slipped through the little girl’s tightly closed fingers. The frightening sound of a body being thrown against the bedroom wall filled her head. The terrifying sound of Ebrahim’s voice yelling at Eda, telling her how worthless she was, reverberated inside Emma’s skull. But never once, in all those many nights, did Emma ever hear her mother’s voice. Not a cry. Not the slightest whimper. And never a word about it the next morning, as if it never happened. But Eda’s face prominently displayed the night’s secrets. Emma so desperately wanted to know why. Why did her father beat her mother so? What did she do to deserve such? Why did her mother take the abuse so readily? Almost seeming to welcome the abuse; even sometimes initiating it? But even at such a young age, Emma felt she knew why her mother took the abuse without complaint. A few years prior, during one of Eda’s beatings, Erick, the oldest brother, had bravely, but foolishly, entered his parent’s bedroom and defiantly ordered his father to stop hurting his mother. Eda was saved that night from the abuse, but Erick endured the full wraith of his father. The bruises and lacerations that normally adorned Eda, now covered Erick, in addition to a broken arm. After that night, Eda did everything she could, anything she had to, to ensure that she would always be there for Ebrahim to abuse. To be the one he could take his frustrations out on. She willingly became his punching bag. Anything to keep him from hurting one of her children again.

The day Emma found out her mother was pregnant with her little sister, Ellie, she hoped the beatings would stop, but they did not. They persisted with Eda trying to ensure every blow from Ebrahim’s heavy hand fell to her face and not to her stomach where her unborn child grew. Eda’s face would become so bruised and swollen by the next day that Emma barely recognized her own mother. By now, Erick and Elliot had grown a bit older and a bit braver. They told their mother they would no longer allow their father to hit her anymore, but Eda fervently begged her sons to stay out of it. She argued that despite their father’s angry nature, he did provide for them, and they should show him respect if only for that reason alone, but the real reason she didn’t want her sons to confront Ebrahim was out of fear of what Ebrahim might do to them. Because her boys were older now, she feared a confrontation between her sons and their father would end up resulting in more than just a broken bone. Ebrahim’s anger had grown stronger, bitterer, and increasingly more intense over the years. She feared what her husband was capable of. Despite their strong desire to protect their mother, Erick and Elliot reluctantly promised they would not confront their father. In order to keep their promise, both boys would spend their nights out in the woods whenever their father came home from work, far from the sounds of abuse Emma was forced to hear, far from the temptation to break their promise. Emma desperately wanted to join her brothers on those horrid nights when her father was home, but the guilt of leaving her mother alone in the house forbade her from such luxury, even though she could do nothing to help her mother. Nothing but hide and pray for her mother and unborn sister.

Just about a month before Ellie was born, Erick and Elliot joined the Confederate Army in the battle against the Union. Eda feared for her sons fighting in such a dangerous war, but what she feared more was her son’s growing resentment toward their father which she knew would eventually boil over into a confrontation with no chance for a pleasant ending. Both her boys had a temper like their father and if either one ever engaged in a physical conflict with Ebrahim, it would surely not end until someone was dead. Eda felt her sons had a better chance surviving a war than surviving their father. She ambivalently sent her boys off to become soldiers, fighting for a cause she was opposed to, praying she would one day see them again. She never did.

Ellie was born on the coldest day anyone in Missouri could remember. She was the most beautiful thing Emma had ever laid eyes on and Emma instantly and emphatically fell in love with her newborn sister. Ellie was unique. The first thing one noticed about Ellie was her piercing blue-gray eyes that seemed to penetrate into the depths of one’s very soul given Ellie a sort of sixth sense to know all that was good about someone and all that was bad. The second thing one noticed about Ellie, after spending some time with her, was that the child never cried. She didn’t cry when she entered into the world as most infants did. In fact, she never made a vocal sound…ever. The third thing one noticed about Ellie was her ever-present smile. She smiled from the time she woke to the time she fell asleep and sometimes she smiled while she slept. It was an infectious smile. If one was having a bad day, they only had to look at Ellie and the troubles of the day would melt away. Try as one might, they couldn’t stop a smile from forming across their own face whenever they looked at Ellie. Ellie smiled for everyone she encountered…everyone except her own father. In the presence of Ebrahim, which wasn’t very often, Ellie’s smile fell instantly. She only stared expressionlessly at her father. But this was of little concern to Ebrahim. He had wanted another son. A real man had sons, not daughters, he would say. A daughter is perk-near worthless and, when she grows up, she’s only good to a man for cooking and making sons.

By the time Ellie was two, she still hadn’t uttered a sound. The doctors in town classified Ellie as a deaf mute and informed Eda that her daughter would never hear nor speak. This infuriated Ebrahim. Not only had Eda given him a second purposeless daughter, she had given him one that was broken and that no man would ever want. Ellie would be their burden until the day they died. Having a daughter who was disabled filled Ebrahim with embarrassment and shame and he was as silent with her as she was with him. Just the sight of Ellie would flood Ebrahim with rage and Eda paid many nights for giving her husband such an abomination.

In contrast, Emma’s love and admiration for Ellie grew stronger with each passing day. Despite Ellie not being able to speak, Emma understood every word her sister didn’t say. Emma knew what every gesture Ellie made meant and what every facial expression implied. The two sisters could converse with each other all day without saying a word. They invented a sign language between the two of them that only they could understand…that only two sisters in love could comprehend. The two of them were inseparable, spending every waking hour together, doing everything together from their chores to engaging in Ellie’s favorite past time, chasing butterflies through the wild flowers that grew plentifully behind their house. Ellie had a fascination with butterflies. She often wished she could turn into one for just a day and fly over the many colorful wild flowers and float through the sky on top of a cool summer’s breeze. She especially liked the orange colored butterflies with the red-tipped wings. If it wasn’t for having such an abusive, mean father, Emma felt she would have had the perfect life, but the unpleasant reality was that her father ran her brothers away, beat her mother, and was ashamed of his own daughters. Sometimes, Emma selfishly wished her father would just leave them alone.

Then one day, Emma received her wish. It was early on a Friday morning when Emma answered a knock at the front door. Standing on the porch was a clean-shaved man of about forty years of age with a thick mustache that ran down both sides of his chin. Behind him, standing beside their four well-maintained horses they all had rode in on, were three more unidentified men. Before speaking, the man on the porch removed his brown Stetson hat while opening up the left side of his leather vest to show a six pointed, star-shaped, silver badge he was wearing. He was a lawman.

I’m sorry to be bothering you so early in the morning, the lawman said. Are you Mrs. Watts?

Yes, Emma said. What’s this about?

Eda Watts?

No, I’m Emma. Eda’s my mother.

Is she home?

Yes, in the kitchen.

May I have a word with her? the man asked solemnly.

Emma knew by the tone of the man’s voice that something was wrong. She left the lawman standing on the porch and went to retrieve her mother.

Mrs. Watts, I’m Sheriff Brady from St. Josephs. I’m sorry for bringing you such awful news, but—.

Ebrahim’s dead. Eda interrupted matter-of-factly with no emotion in her voice.

Somewhat surprised by Eda’s lack of emotions, Sheriff Brady stood on the front porch with his mouth hanging open. He had expected he would be consoling a grieving widow in his arms. Emma, who was standing just behind her mother, was not only caught off guard by her mother’s unemotional response, but astonished by her own lack of emotions. Emma had just found out her own father was dead, yet she felt no sorrow for the man. She felt ashamed and guilt-ridden to not be crying over the loss of her father while, at the same time, a huge sense of relief had flowed over her the instance she had heard the news about her father. She knew her feelings couldn’t be morally right. How could she not feel sorrow for her own father? Yes, he was a monster, but did he really deserve to die? Emma wasn’t sure how to answer that question. All she knew for certain was that her mother would never be beat again. Emma was glad about that.

How’d it happen? Eda asked. Emma wasn’t sure if her mother really cared about what happened to her husband or if she was simply curious.

Your husband and a few other men from the mines went into town late last night for some drinks. Your husband became very drunk and began threatening a man by the name of Moses Carver. From the statements of the eyewitnesses, Mr. Carver asked your husband to leave the saloon, but this only infuriated your husband. He attacked Mr. Carver with a Bowie knife. Mr. Carver shot your husband in self-defense. I have several witnesses that will verify this story.

I have no doubt it happened as you said, Eda stated.

Eda had heard the name Moses Carver before. Moses was well known by many around the region. He was known for being the richest man in town, but he was even more infamous for being a man everyone knew not to anger. Many men had crossed Moses in the past. Many men were dead as a result. Moses never was the type to go looking for trouble, it just always seemed to find him. Most who knew him considered Moses a fair man. A man to respect. The men who went looking for trouble with Moses Carver…well, they got what was coming to them.

Um…Mrs. Watts… the sheriff awkwardly said while rubbing the back of his neck. If you don’t mind, Mr. Carver wants to have a few words with you. He’s the older gentleman standing behind me. He wasn’t sure if you would be willing to speak with the man who killed your husband.

Eda looked over the sheriff’s shoulders at Mr. Carver and nodded her head. Mr. Carver removed his hat before stepping onto the porch and addressing Eda. Moses Carver, a tall and stout man, was approaching sixty years of age, although most would have trouble guessing his age, figuring he was much younger. He had a head full of grayish-brown hair and a beard to match. His eyes were narrow but bright and his face void of the many wrinkles most men his age wore. Only the deep crow’s feet around his eyes gave away any indication of his real age. When he spoke, Moses spoke as if he had carefully chosen each word before allowing them to leave his mouth…slow and smooth.

Mrs. Watts. My name is Moses Carver. The sheriff has informed you about the events befalling your late husband. I can’t say I regret what I did, but I do regret that who I did it to had a wife and a daughter.

Two daughters and two sons, Eda informed him.

I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of the number of children you have. Do they all still live with you?

My sons are soldiers. Away at the war.

That’s…commendable. Are your two—-?

Why are you here, Mr. Carver? Eda impatiently asked.

Right to the point. Very well. Mrs. Watts, I’m a very rich man and I would like to see to it that all your needs are taken care of. It’s the least I can do. Will you accept my hospitality?

For the first time in a long while, Emma saw a hint of a grin form across her mother’s face. Eda nodded her head and accepted Moses’s offer.

Moses Carver was a man of his word. Two days after visiting with Eda, Moses sent his youngest son, Saul, to Eda’s cabin with a wagon full of supplies and a few dollars for spending in town for clothes and such. Saul was known by most around town because of who his father was. Saul had three older brothers: Isaac, Aaron, and Benjamin. Saul was the runt of his siblings. He tried to make up for his small stature with a huge, often irritating, many times disrespectful, and most of times, mean personality. As much as folks respected Moses and his older sons, no one respected Saul. The most common word used by people to describe Saul was weasel, but none dared say it to his face out of fear of angering Moses, although Moses would have agreed with people’s assessment of his son, if only secretly.

Upon first laying eyes on Emma, Saul immediately took a liking to her, but, as usual, when a boy came calling on her, Emma showed no interest. Saul smiled his best smile and complemented Emma on her beauty, but got nothing from Emma but a polite Thank you. However, Saul was determined not to let Emma’s constant rejections deter him. He promised to return every week with more supplies and he would bring a gift for Emma each time. She begged Saul not to bring her anything, but, on arrival the following week, Saul presented Emma with a box of the most expensive chocolates he could find. Emma refused the gift at first, but Eda ordered her daughter not to be rude and made her accept the gift. Partly because Eda just loved chocolate and knew her daughter would share with her. But, now Emma felt indebted to repay Saul. So, she allowed Saul to take her for a walk down a trail that ran passed a spring-fed pond, but she insisted Ellie go with them, just in case Saul had thoughts of trying to woo her. Emma’s presumption was right. Shockingly, during the walk, Saul asked for Emma’s hand in marriage. Emma only scoffed and told Saul he was being silly. She pointed out to him that they had only known each other for a short while, just a few days, and that she was not interested in being his or anyone’s wife. Undaunted by Emma’s rejection, Saul arrived the very next week with more supplies, more chocolates, and, this time, he brought a couple of his friends, two boys, Jason and Robert. After unloading the supplies, they all hung around Eda’s house for several hours. The boys engaged in a few games of horseshoes, they spent some time target practicing with a 22-caliber rifle Saul had brought with him, and they enjoyed swimming in the crystal clear water of the spring-fed pond. Emma didn’t mind the boys hanging around. It reminded her of when her brothers were home. She missed them and often wondered if they were all right. When it was time for Saul and his friends to go home, Saul again asked for Emma’s hand in marriage. As she did before, Emma kindly rejected him.

The next time Saul showed up with the supplies, he had a wagon full of people, twelve in all. Eight boys and four girls. They were all singing the praises of Saul as they jumped from the back of the wagon. Their praises of Saul seemed a little rehearsed to Emma. She couldn’t help but wonder if these friends of Saul’s were really his friends or were they just attracted to his money. From the way they catered to Saul’s every whim and were so quick to laugh at his every joke, Emma figured the latter was correct. Saul and his friends spent the whole day playing games and swimming in the pond. They included Ellie in their activities which pleased Emma immensely. She enjoyed seeing Ellie play with the others. Ellie was having so much fun. Emma watched Saul as he played with Ellie. It was obvious that Saul was making sure that Emma saw him playing with her little sister. Saul twirled Ellie in the air ensuring they were in Emma’s direct line of sight. Emma knew what Saul was doing, but it didn’t matter. She saw how massive Ellie's smile was and that was all that mattered. Ellie’s happiness made Emma feel warm inside. Perhaps, she didn’t give Saul enough credit. Maybe Saul wasn’t as bad a person as she first assumed.

As dusk began falling, and with Eda’s permission, a large camp fire was built. Eda’s two small dining room tables and the chairs that sat around them were brought from inside the cabin and placed around the fire. A fiddle and a banjo were brandished by a couple of the boys who began playing every song they knew. Saul sat in one