Page 4 of Damnation (Gallows Hill)

Chapter Three

Thomas

“ W here has thou been?” Ann interrogates the moment I step foot onto our land.

Irritation rises inside me as I move past her without a word.

“Has thou become hard of hearing, or simply too daft to understand the words I speak?” she sneers.

“Silence!” I command. “You hold no right for my agenda, nor the time spent achieving it. Though you often forget, I am your husband, you are my wife, and you will be silent !”

I am a better man than my father was, I have always tried to be, at the very least. My father would often speak to my mother like so.

Watching as a young boy, I saw how it hurt her, and I vowed to treat my own wife better when the time came.

If I had known I’d have married so painfully, I might not have made such insurmountable promises.

Moving through my home, several of my children are spread around in the main room.

Ann is pulling on Elizabeth’s hair before shoving her to the ground.

Sisters fight just as brothers do, but those two are the most nuisance of our bunch.

Pair Ann and Parris’s daughter together, and ‘tis a frightful time indeed. My wife has much to teach that girl before she is ready for marriage, which is a feat I am unsure she will achieve on account of the likeness she shares with her mother. Had my father not struck a deal with Ann’s involving a small fortune, I would not be in this position.

Ann’s father knew what an ache his daughter was, just as I know my own.

You will not see me wasting away money to marry her off, though. She must learn to be better.

Stepping through the doorway of my bedroom, I pause for a moment before reaching for the whiskey jar.

I rarely take to drink in my home, but an exception must be made for this moment.

Opening the top, I take three large mouthfuls before resting it on the table.

The harsh sting is accompanied by a soothing warmth that tempers…

everything. My irritation, my exhaustion… my desire.

Pulling out my journal from my coat pocket, I flip open the black leather book, reaching for a feather and ink as I begin.

I saw her again this day. Instead of averting my gaze as I often do, I held it. I held it for so long that my feet carried me to her, as if I were not of my own control. As if God himself had thrust me towards her. As I shared the very air she had just exhaled, I reveled in being so near to her.

My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my own ears.

My eyes roamed over her from top to bottom, from her well worn blue and white dress to her bare feet.

She has close to nothing, yet she embodies…

everything. She is warmth and kindness; she is perseverance and strength.

She is light…a light I hath found myself drawing dangerously close to with little to no moral confliction.

What has thou done to me? As if she had commanded I am hers and, just so, I have no qualms or opposition.

God, forgive me for the sinful thoughts that ravage my mind when I am near her. Forgoing all that I know about her situation as well as my own, I want her. In every way God has created possible, I desire her more deeply than a man starved desires nourishment.

Taking a breath for a moment, I shake my head.

I must banish these sinful notions. I am, after all, a Puritan man first and foremost. A man of God, and a married one at that.

Just as she too is married. No woman is worth an eternity swimming in rivers of hellfire.

Though, dare I be so bold to think that Sarah Good very well falls close.

The closest this land has ever seen, I have no doubt of it.

From her shining green eyes to her skin as smooth as milk, she is perfectly made in God’s image, and I cannot stop the way I yearn for her.

The way I always have. The moment my skin touched hers, though, I knew my strength would be tested.

My morals. My faith. Sarah Good will no doubt be my greatest rise and my sharpest of falls. If I allowed her so.

I cannot allow this of her.

I oversee my staff as they harvest this year’s crops when a figure catches my attention yonder.

My feet are moving before I command them to do so, carrying me closer to the road and further from my responsibilities.

I ought not know how my gut knew it was her before my eyes could so plainly see.

Somehow, I just knew, and now Sarah Good is a short stone’s throw away, walking from door to door, though she misses my own as well as my brother’s.

I watch as she approaches the Abbey home. My ears do not catch their conversation, but I can hear well enough the argument they are having before Jonathan Abbey slams the door inches from her face.

Sarah turns away, muttering something beneath her breath as I cross the road, inserting myself into her path. She startles for a moment as her eyes come to me.

“Mr. Putnam. My apologies, I did not see you.”

“You need not apologize for the path I have chosen to walk, though I will accept one in honor of your excessive formality,” I say, giving her a barely there grin to show my playful intent.

She accepts it with a smile of her own as she nods.

“Thomas,” she whispers, so sweetly ‘tis like sugar to my ears, no matter the ridiculousness of that thought.

“What adventures does this day bring to you?” I ask.

Her smile slips away as a far off look takes over her face.

“The same one I walk each day, I suppose.”

The air between us hangs heavily for several moments before she looks back to me once more.

“And you?”

I slip my hands into my pocket, not attempting to hide the golden pocket watch tucked inside my coat.

Her eyes move to it, transfixed by the glinting metal in the shining sun.

I am not a modest man, and I have never attempted to convey such.

I am proud of what I have earned, of what I have built, and I do not hate the position and favor it gains me from others in return.

“The usual duties. Overseeing this year’s harvest, preparing for sale and shipment to Boston.”

“A farmer’s life is nary dull,” she says with that smile I have grown to adore returning once again.

“Especially when it sprawls across the distance my own does,” I boast.

Am I being too arrogant? Perhaps. Something in me seeks her approval desperately, though. As if a beggar woman’s opinion matters at all. It does, though. Hers does, to me.

“You are a blessed man indeed.” She nods in agreement.

“Not in all the ways that count,” I say, unable to stop myself as the truth of my life spills from my lips.

Sarah tilts her head in curiosity when a voice calls out down the road.

“Sarah! Damned woman! Get your arse over here now!”

We both turn to see William Good approaching with haste, fury rolling off him in waves as he closes the distance. I take note of the fear that fills her body as she sees him, tensing as his hand reaches out, yanking her closer to his side.

Without considering the consequences, I take a step towards her, as if I were ready to free her from his grasp at a moment’s notice. William looks to me with a sneer, despite knowing better.

“Putnam, I did not notice thee.”

“Good,” I greet stiffly, not offering a single nicety to a man who deserves no such thing.

When he understands he will not be receiving any further greeting, he turns to his wife, increasing his hold onto her.

“Come, I have no patience to chase you all over the village.”

“I was trying to collect, as you commanded,” she says, snapping back far more than I’d expect for a woman in her position.

Irritation flickers upon his face as he raises his hand as if to strike her before he thinks better of it, casting his gaze to me. Well. The savage knows how to behave in good society when forced to.

“I am sure you have made not a single pence. You waste your time with looks as such,” he says, gesturing to her.

Perhaps if he would not mar her face with welts and bruises, she would be able to look more favorably.

He begins to drag her away as I call out to them.

“Good.”

They both turn, tears beginning to build in Sarah’s eyes as I step forward, reaching into my pocket and holding out two pence. William’s eyes widen with surprise as Sarah gently holds her hand out for me.

“God be with you,” I say, speaking only to her.

“God be with you,” she repeats, nodding with the sentiment.

In a moment, William snatches the coins from her grasp, pocketing them as he continues dragging her down the road. I watch them walk until they disappear beyond the horizon.

It be the next nightfall when I take to a walk to the creek. My property holds most of the land to gain access to the creek, so it is all but my own. There are small alcoves you can slip through from the other side of town, but most take to other means for their water.

Ann is putting the children to bed after yet again raising her temper with me over her allowance of all things.

The woman is the richest in all of Salem, yet she still takes ire with me.

I could not speak, so irate with her that I stood from the table and made my way to the cool, brisk air, gaining much needed relief.

To my understanding, a fabric merchant from Boston had come through town, attempting to sell his finest silks. The cost was too much for even Ann to afford on her allowance, and therefore, she blames me for her embarrassment.

I cannot help but scoff at the notion. That woman has never known struggle, known suffering.

I hand her a shilling and ‘tis not enough, but I hand Sarah Good five pence as I did the other morning and…she looked as if she were on the verge of tears. As if all her life would somehow come together. Do not mistake me, five pence is the equivalent of what Ann receives in two weeks’ time.