The Evil that Men Do

Grover was as good as his word. He wasted no time showing Benjamin he was the boss. That night he confronted him in the barn. Benjamin had brought down some treats for his favorite mare. Glory was getting too old to ride, but she had been Benjamin’s first horse and he cherished her. The old horse nuzzled Benjamin’s pocket for another piece of carrot.

“We don’t have enough food for you to be wasting it on some good for nothing nag. Especially with two new mouths to feed. It’s time to get rid of that horse.”

“No. My Papa gave her to me. She’s mine.”

“Ain’t nothing yours.

“Glory is mine. He picked her out special for me.”

“Ain’t like he was a great judge of horses, boy. Couldn’t even stay astride one.” Grover laughed and turned to leave the barn.

Benjamin picked up a galvanized pail and threw it at his back. It bounced off the stall, narrowly missing his stepfather.

Grover picked up the pail and walked back to where Benjamin stood. He swung the pail, slamming it hard against Benjamin’s cheek. Then with his free hand he landed a blow on the other cheek.

“You raise a hand against me again, boy; you won’t walk out of this barn.”

Grover’s attitude toward Benjamin didn’t change. Irene’s heart ached as she silently watched her son struggle with chores that would have challenged a grown man. She sent him off to school in mended overalls. Grover refused to spend money to buy him new ones. “You don’t see me spending good money on frills, do you?”

Benjamin didn’t complain as he pulled on the patched clothes even though his sleeves were too short and the cuffs of his pants ended inches above his ankles. “It’s okay, Mama. They ain’t no worse than the other boys wear.”

“Aren’t any worse,” she corrected him.

Irene never fully regained her strength after the birth of the twins. The little energy she had was spent on her daughters. In the evening she read them to sleep. From the time they were babies Irene read to her children from leather bound volumes of the plays of William Shakespeare that her father had left her. Benjamin had once sat in her lap as she read to him. Now she read to the twins and hardly spoke to him unless she was correcting his grammar or giving him another chore. She saw the abuse he received from Grover, but she never spoke of it to either of them.

Little by little the eager young boy disappeared and was replaced by a sullen, withdrawn teenager. The change was so gradual that by the time Irene became aware of the transformation, it was too late.