Hold Strong

 

 

 

“Damn worthless piece of shit.”

Heath tried not to wince when his hands were bound tightly to the whipping post.

“Don’t know why we bother trying to keep maggots like you alive.  Waste of time if you ask me.”

Heath heard the crunch of footsteps as the Carterson guard walked away from him and tried to brace himself.  After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d been whipped since his unit was captured by the Confederates and incarcerated in this hellhole of a prison camp.  But the sharp line of pain from the whip still caught him unawares and he flinched involuntarily.

“Useless bastard.”

Another crack of the whip.

“Fucking prick.”

The list of insults went on, punctuated by stripes of pain.  The punishment, for nothing more than sharing a mouldy crust of bread with another prisoner, started to border on unbearable and the pain and hurtful words sent his conciousness back to another place and time.

 

“Worthless little piece of shit.”

A fiery pain exploded in his cheek as his uncle’s slap snapped his head backwards.  The nine year old did his best not to cry.

“Useless bastard.  Don’t know why your mama didn’t leave you out for the coyotes when you were born.”

That made Heath lift his chin defiantly.  He knew his mama loved him; it didn’t matter none to her that he didn’t have a papa.

Matt Simmons snorted derisively as he grabbed Heath’s shoulder and shook him.  “Scrawny little runt like you, probably couldn’t even sell you to work in the mine.”

Heath held back a shudder as he thought of the dark dank tunnels that made up the Strawberry mine.  He hated the damp, the feeling of tons of rock pressing down on him.  He’d run away first.

His uncle gave him a shove, pushing him back against the wall.  “But then again, your mama’s nothing more than a cheap whore.”

That made Heath’s temper boil.  He could take all sorts of insults about himself and his parentage, but his mama was the sweetest woman who ever lived.  He rushed his uncle Matt, pounding him with his fists.  “You take that back, you mean old man!  Mama ain’t no whore!”

This time when he was backhanded into the wall, Heath hit his head hard, slumped to the floor and the world went slowly black.

 

Heath was brought back to reality by the renewed agony in his back, shoulders and arms when he was cut down from the whipping post.  He slumped to the ground, just like the small boy had slumped against the wall and coughed and spluttered when cold filthy water was dashed into his face.

“On your feet, asshole.”

He felt the gashes on his back open further as he was hauled roughly to his feet.  Stumbling, he made his way to the corner of the yard he’d claimed as his own and dropped to his knees.  He pulled the shred of blanket that thankfully hadn’t been stolen while he was being punished around his shoulders.

 

“Don’t listen to any of those hateful words.  My brother’s just a mean-spirited man who has precious little joy in his life, nothing like the joy I have in you.”

Heath heard his mama’s gentle voice as she held a cool cloth to his swollen cheek.

“You’re a better man than he is, Heath, even though you’re not full grown.”

She gathered him into a hug and he smelled the clean scent of soap.

“We can get by without the bit he pays you to clean the hotel if we have to.  But I know some of the miners could use help with their washing, you’d be out in the clear air and they’d treat you a sight better.  You just hold strong that everyone in this world’s not like your uncle.”

Heath burrowed his head against her.  “I love you, Mama.”

 

“You don’t listen to any of those hateful words, either, Mama,” Heath whispered, even though home was over a thousand miles away and he had no way of knowing if he’d ever see his mama or the mountains of California again.  “I’ll hold strong to your good words and you hold on to mine and we’ll get through this together.”