Message-ID: <23182asstr$952945802@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail Reply-To: "Jack of all trades" <tradesjackofall@hotmail.com> From: "Jack of all trades" <tradesjackofall@hotmail.com> X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200 X-Original-Message-ID: <qYZy4.4026$cg4.157495@news4.giganews.com> NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 12 Mar 2000 22:16:22 CST X-Abuse-Info: Please be sure to forward a copy of ALL headers X-Abuse-Info: Otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly Subject: {ASSM} Revised "Sometimes Love Is Not Enough" (Jack) (mf, rom, Mf, inc, violence) Lines: 1820 Date: Mon, 13 Mar 2000 06:10:02 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/23182> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: Lambchop, IceAltar This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in locations where it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, don't read it! This work is copyrighted. Reposting or any other use is strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder. E-mail me, I'll probably give you permission. I just want to know and control where it is posted. This story may be posted as part of a review or to the ASSM archive. My thanks to Ruthie for her editing and suggestions. Any errors you find are my fault not hers. Tell me what you liked, or didn't like. Please! E-mail address: tradesjackofall@hotmail.com My stories can be found at my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/ Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades I posted this over on alt.fiction.original and received a number of suggestions that helped to improve the story. Mainly to many similar sounding names and cleaning up the timelines. I also received some suggestions that weren't as helpful. For some reason they hated the incest with the father. Imagine that! It wasn't written to be liked but to provide the reader with the hell that Patience was living through. Most suggestions were to remove the incest. I couldn't and keep the story the same. C'est la vie. Other than cleanup, the story is the same. Ruthie as always pulled yeoman duty in cleaning up any nits left over after the changes. Sometimes Love Is Not Enough Chapter 1 Mike Sanders bent over his horse's neck and gave him a well- deserved pat. It was a glorious day. Not a cloud in the sky, the temperature a comfortable 70 degrees, and 15-year-old Mike was doing something he loved dearly, his best friend under him, eating up the distance with long loping strides. It wasn't a full gallop, his horse, Patrick, had one more gear if Mike needed it but they weren't in a hurry, just having fun while they kicked up their heels, raised a little dust. They were on a long straight stretch of the path, the river lay to their left, dark blue-gray water reflected the bright morning sunshine and hadn't been fully warmed by the impending summer's heat. Patrick tossed his head, gave off a whinny as if to say, "You having fun?" Mike clicked his teeth and the horse responded instantly, flat out they rode down the path, wind rushing by. Patrick's breath came in snorts, his hooves pounded against the ground. Mike laughed in sheer joy as they approached a bend. He pulled lightly against the reins, and dropped into a canter as they took the turn and came face to face with the girl. Mike reined hard and they skidded to a stop. The horse tossed his head and snorted at Mike's heavy-handedness. "Easy, fella," Mike murmured. Patrick stomped his hoof and blew out a sigh. Mike dismounted, flipping the reins over the horse's long neck. The girl had jumped back in surprise and was picking herself up from where she fell. Mike led Patrick over, "I'm sorry Miss, we didn't mean to scare you." He was prepared for her to yell, tell him what an irresponsible louse he was, instead she smiled at him. "He's beautiful," she said. Patrick nickered, he knew when someone was complimenting him. He was beautiful, a Palomino quarter horse Mike jokingly referred to as "the blonde in my life." He had gotten him for a song, his previous owner felt he was too wild, couldn't be tamed. The two of them just clicked. Patrick tested Mike and found he wouldn't be unseated. Mike tested Patrick and found a friend. Others could ride him but would never own him. He belonged to Mike and Mike to him, a once in a lifetime horse. Patrick rubbed his head against Mike's back, then flicked his head up, sending Mike stumbling against the girl. His arm wrapped around her to keep them from falling. "Ornery, too," Mike said when he recovered his balance. He felt the softness of her body pressed to his, looked into the purest blue eyes he had ever seen and was lost. She squirmed in his arms, bringing him back. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he let her go. She took a step back, putting distance between them, her eyes appraising him. "It's alright," she said, stepping past him toward the horse. "Aren't you pretty?" she cooed. Mike was used to it by now. Every woman he ever met while he was with Patrick ignored him and went directly to the horse. It gave Mike a chance to study her while she stroked Patrick's forehead and talked softly to him. She wasn't tall, about 5' 2" if Mike had to guess. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail that hung to the small of her back. The t-shirt she wore was sheer enough that he could see the straps of her bra through the material. She had on black shorts and her legs were slender, a runner's legs. She was jogging when they almost rode her down. "His name is Pat, short for Patrick," Mike said. "Hello, Pat, I'm Pat, too, short for Patience." The horse bobbed his head up and down and was rewarded with the beginnings of a smile from Patience. The damn horse is better with women than I ever will be, thought Mike. Patrick nuzzled her neck. "He sure is friendly," she said. "He can be when he wants to. Can't you, fella?" he said, stroking the horse's neck. "I'm Mike Sanders, my parents own a farm about a mile back that way," Mike said pointing. He smiled his most ingratiating smile, hoping to catch her interest. She smiled back, not a full smile but pleasant enough. Something about it tugged at Mike, an underlying sadness, if a smile could be sad. "Would you like to ride him?" Mike asked. Her face brightened, then turned sad again. She appeared nervous, as if his invitation scared her. "Yes, that would be nice, but I have to get home... I can't, I have to get home," she turned and jogged off without a backward glance. "Not very friendly, is she?" Mike said to the horse as he tossed the reins over his head. They rode down the path at a more sedate pace while Mike thought about Patience. She seemed almost frightened of him and the way she had squirmed against him when he held her, it was like she couldn't bear his touch. Mike shook his head, clearing the thoughts, and rode back to the farm. ------ William Garvin closed the loan file he was reading. He glanced at his watch. It was after five but he knew he had no reason to rush home. Karen, his wife, had called earlier in the day and told him she was going shopping with Patty. The bitch better be careful how she spends my money, he thought. Even though his transfer here had resulted in a pay increase he was under no illusions about what it really meant. Any time you were transferred out of the main office to a bumfuck town like Thomasville it was a death sentence, even if it was the largest bank in the county. His manager had buttered him up, told him how he would be in charge of the entire lending department, waived the raise in front of his face, but he knew it was what was unsaid that mattered. They wanted him out of Conway and were even willing to pay to accomplish it. He seethed inside at the thought that he had been found wanting. He took off his glasses, rubbed his nose, and thought, God I need a drink. He locked the files away in the storage room, then locked up the bank. On the way home he stopped at a liquor store and bought a liter of Wild Turkey. He could almost taste it, and he rushed home. Without even changing his rumpled suit, he went to the kitchen to fix his drink. He splashed a generous portion of bourbon on top of a few ice cubes and recorked the bottle. His hand trembled as he took a healthy swig. The bourbon quieted his nerves and he felt himself relaxing. He snagged a half-eaten bag of chips and the bottle of whiskey in one hand, carried them and his drink into the den, and flipped on the TV, tuning into a baseball game. Settling onto the ragged couch he sipped his whiskey and ate chips while he watched the game and waited for them to come home. By the time Karen and Patience walked into the house, the bottle was half empty and Bill Garvin had worked himself into a lather thinking about all the money his bitch wife and daughter had spent. He heard the kitchen door shut, the sound of their voices. He got up to give them a piece of his mind. The two women were talking happily together until they saw Bill standing in the kitchen doorway. Experience had taught them to be silent around him when he was this way, they both could smell the whiskey halfway across the room. "How mush you shpend this time, bitch?" he slurred. Karen kept her eyes down, not wanting to challenge him. "Not much, just got a couple of blouses for Patience, they were on sale." "Let me see 'em." Patience pulled the blouses out of the bag she was holding and held them up for her father. "Put 'em on." Patience jumped at the chance to escape. "Sure, Daddy, I'll go change." "No, here!" he demanded loudly. Patience felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Bill, let her change..." Bill's hand flailed out, backhanded Karen across the face, and sent her slumping against the kitchen cabinets. "I wasn't talkin' to you, bitch!" he shouted. Karen cowered against the cabinets, she could taste blood where he had split her lip. "Do it," he screamed at Patience. Patience's fingers worked the buttons of her blouse, tears streamed down her face. "Hurry up," he demanded. Patience shrugged the blouse off and put a new one on. "It's pretty. The other one." She put on the other blouse. "I like the first one better, take that one back." He turned around and stomped back to the den. The terror had passed for now. Karen got up sobbing softly and started to make dinner. Patience grabbed her clothes and ran to her room. She hated him. Hated what he had become, the things he made her do. At times she even hated her mother for being too weak to stand up to him, for not protecting her. Patience wanted him dead. She prayed that he would have an accident, slam into a tree when he was drunk, but so far none of her prayers had been answered. She sobbed into her pillow until her mother called her to dinner. Bill drank through dinner and Patience hoped he would drink enough to make him pass out. No words were spoken as they ate quietly and the two women hoped he wouldn't explode again. Patience retreated to her room as soon as she finished. She heard angry words though her door, the sharp smack of a hand slapping flesh, and her mother's sobs. She undressed hurriedly, put on a nightgown, then turned off the lights and climbed into bed. She heard his heavy footfalls coming down the hallway. "Not tonight, please God, not tonight," she prayed. She heard him go into the dingy bathroom next door, and through the thin walls the sound of him urinating. Patience relaxed slightly but knew the danger wasn't over yet. Keep him away, God, keep the monster away, she thought. The toilet flushed, she heard the bathroom door open, then light spilled into her room from the hallway. "Hello, Patty," he said, walking to her bed. "How 'bout a good night kiss for your Dad." He planted his lips against hers. His tongue, bitter with whiskey, invaded her mouth. God, help me, she pleaded silently. Bill sat on the bed, his fingers stroking her hair. "Take it out," he hissed. Patience didn't move. His fingers fisted her hair, jerked her head. Tears came to her eyes from the pain. "Do it or I'll hurt you worse'n this." Her fingers fumbled at his zipper, tugged it down. Her small hand reached inside and pulled his flaccid cock out of his pants. "Tha's better, now play with it." Patience's fingers fondled him, felt him growing in her hand. She wished she could just rip it off his body. "Stroke it," he demanded. Her hand slid up and down his shaft. "That the best you can do? Christ, yer worthless." He jerked her head into his crotch. "Use your mouth," he said as his hand roughly mauled her breast. ------ A couple of miles away, Mike was lying in his own bed, replaying his meeting with Patience in his mind. Patience with the pure blue eyes. I wonder what she's doing now, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. Chapter 2 Bill Garvin awoke to the buzzing of the alarm clock. His hand reached out and slapped the top, activating the snooze setting. He went into the bathroom and started his morning ritual. He was in the shower when the clock went off again. Karen hurriedly rolled over and shut it off. She got out of bed, her cheek burning where Bill had struck her last night. She stopped in the bathroom across the hall from Patience's room and looked in the mirror. Her eye was black and her lip swollen. She had seen worse, but that didn't make it hurt any less. She touched her lip and winced at the pain. Karen went into the kitchen and began fixing Bill's breakfast. She fried some eggs and bacon and was just putting them on a plate when Bill came into the room. "Morning," he grunted. He sat down at the table and Karen put the plate in front of him. She had gotten the morning paper off the porch while the eggs were frying and Bill read the paper, ignoring her. He finished his meal and put down the paper. "You look like shit, do something about your face," he said, then got up and left. Patience heard her father start the car and knew it was safe for the time being. She dressed in a t- shirt and shorts, then went into the kitchen. Her mother was seated at the table, her head in her hands. "Mom, are you okay?" she asked. Karen looked up at her daughter and nodded. Patience fixed some cereal and came over to the table. She saw her mother's badly bruised face and lip. "He's getting worse," Patience stated. Karen nodded silently, tears welled up in her eyes. "Can't we just leave? Go someplace where he'll never find us?" Karen had thought about leaving him but where would she go? She didn't have anything in her name, no money, and no family to go home to. Her parents were gone - killed in a car crash years ago - and now the only thing she had left was her husband and Patience. She didn't have any skills. Bill had insisted she not work, stay home, keep his house, and raise their child. She was worthless. Bill pointed that out to her constantly. The only friends she ever had were also Bill's, she wouldn't feel safe going to them. If they left, they would only get as far as a few tanks of gas would take them. And then what? What would she do? How would they survive? There may have been a time when she could have left but he had beaten it out of her long ago. "We can't," she said simply. Patience banged her spoon in the bowl. "Fine, I'm going running." She stomped off and soon Karen heard the front door slam shut. Running was Patience's way of coping with her problems. Karen's was under the sink and she could feel herself drawn to it. She got up and fixed herself a drink from the bottle of vodka she kept hidden there. The alcohol burned her throat and stung her lip as she drank it. There was another option, she thought. One that would end all this forever, but she couldn't do that to Patience, wouldn't leave her to face her father alone. ------ Mike dumped the last load of silage into the trough, then put the wheelbarrow away. The steers jostled for position and fought over the food behind him. He left the feedlot and walked over to the equipment shed, glad that the morning chores were done. "They're all fed," he told his father when he got to the shed. "Good. I need to go into town this morning and meet with the new loan officer at the bank. I want you to start raking the hay at eleven. I ought to be back around noon and I'll start baling as soon as it's ready." "Can I go for a ride until then?" Mike asked. "I suppose so, but you make sure you're back here to start raking at eleven. It's supposed to rain later this evening and I want that hay in before it does." "Thanks," Mike said and took off running for the paddock to get his horse. Jim Sanders grinned to himself as he walked to the house. He washed up and collected Martha, his wife, for the trip into town. They could see Mike riding down the lane as they came out of the house. "That boy sure does love that horse," Jim commented to Martha. "I wonder where he got that from," she said smiling wistfully. She remembered a boy about Mike's age who used to come visit her on his horse. Eventually she had fallen in love and married him. Jim remembered courting Martha too, and they both had smiles on their faces as they drove off for town. "I wonder why the bank wanted to meet with us?" he asked his wife. "Probably just wants to get to know the customers." "Probably." They gave their name to the receptionist at the bank and she told them to take a seat. They waited, Jim fidgeted. "Steve Walker never made us wait like this," Jim whispered to Martha. "Steve isn't here anymore, dear," Martha said calmly. Jim glanced at his watch. They had been waiting for 45 minutes. He fidgeted some more. Finally a man came out. "Mr. and Mrs. Sanders," he said. They stood up and walked over to him. "I'm Bill Garvin, if you'll follow me." He guided them back the hall and into his office. Closing the door behind them, he gestured toward chairs in front of his desk then sat down. "Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, we're here because your loan is up for renewal this year," he began. "I've been reviewing the documentation in your file. I assume you're aware that your payments in January and February were late." "Yes, but we caught them up..." Jim began. "Yes you did, but according to the loan terms, by being late the bank has the right to demand payment on your loan." "But Steve told us it would be okay to make the payments late." "If he did, and I have no reason to doubt you, he didn't document that in the file. I can see that you have been good customers with us and we really don't want to call the loan. What we propose is to renew the loan but because of the late payments it will have to be at two and a half percent over prime instead of the one percent you are paying now." He sat back and waited for Jim Sanders to explode. He wasn't disappointed. "Now wait a minute!" Jim said loudly. "You're telling me you're gonna jack my loan rate up by one and a half points because Steve forgot to put some damn document in the file? That's not right. We called and told Steve it was going to be late, he told us it wasn't a problem." "Jim..." Martha said, trying to calm him. "No, Martha! We've been banking here for twenty years. We've been late before and never had a problem. Just what the hell is going on here?" Bill loved it, loved making them squirm. The goddamn bank played hardball with him, well he would just pass it along. "Mr. Sanders, I can't do a thing about what Mr. Walker did or said. I was brought here to bring the lending department into compliance with the bank's policies. The fact remains you were late with your payments. Under the terms of the loan agreement we have the right to call the loan. Now I'm offering you a renewal on the loan at what is a fair price, given your payment history." Jim was furious. "A fair price!" he shouted. "You jack the rate up like that and call it a fair price! You're out of your mind. We won't renew, I'll find another bank that's willing to work with me instead of against me!" "You certainly have that right, but I can't imagine there are many banks willing to lend to a debtor in default. Your loan agreement runs until the end of the year and the bank is willing to honor it as long as your payments are on time. If you haven't renewed by then or paid off your loan we will have to foreclose." He watched Jim's face turn almost purple with rage. "C'mon Martha," Jim spat, "we're done here." He yanked the door open angrily and left, Martha trailing in his wake. "I don't think he's a happy camper," Bill said to himself, chuckling. He got up and shut the door. Returning to his desk, he slid open the bottom drawer and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the cap, took a healthy swallow, then screwed the cap back on and returned it to the desk. The Sanderses could, probably would, take their money out of the bank. He wasn't worried about it, what was in their accounts wasn't much. It had been fun to jerk them around. He found himself looking forward to his afternoon appointment with another farmer in similar straits. ------ Mike couldn't really explain why he decided to ride along the river for a second day. Usually he rode different places each time. Patrick had let him know he was breaking tradition when he pointed the horse down the path toward the river. He balked at first, and then gave in when Mike turned him back onto the path. They rode along the river at a nice easy jog. Mike's eyes searched ahead looking for something, he wasn't sure what, until he spied the figure of a solitary runner, her long blonde hair flapping behind her, jogging along the path. He sped the horse into a trot to close the distance and shortly came alongside her. "Hello, Patience," he called out. She ignored him, kept running. He held the horse even with her, he could see she'd been crying. Tears streaked her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. "Go away! Leave me alone!" "What's wrong?" "Nothing, now leave me..." He had distracted her and she didn't see the rut until her foot landed awkwardly. She sprawled to the ground and clutched her ankle in pain. Mike stopped and jumped off the horse, flipping the reins over his neck. He rushed over to her and squatted beside her. "Are you okay? Here let me see," he said as he reached for her ankle. She slapped his hand away. "Keep your hands off me," she moaned. "I'm just trying to see if it's broken." "It's not!" "Let me look." "No, just go away." "I can't just leave you here like this! Now let me look." His hand reached out slowly, she pushed it away. "Damn it, Patty, let me look at it." "Don't call me that!" she screamed. "I hate it." She cringed, slid herself back away from him on the ground. "Okay, I won't!" he shouted, "but you hold still." She tried to push his hand away again but this time he wouldn't let her. His hand grasped her leg and she moaned. He could feel her shaking. He untied her running shoe and slid it carefully off of her foot. "Just leave me be," she whimpered. "When I know you're alright," he replied. His fingers carefully felt her ankle, it was already swollen and would get worse, but he didn't think anything was broken and didn't see any blood. "I think it's just a bad sprain," he sighed in relief. "Let me help you up," he said as he stood up and offered her his hand. She stared at him, not moving a muscle. "Look," he said in exasperation, "I can't help you up without touching you. You'll just have to trust me. I promise I won't hurt you." She stared at him for a moment more, then reached out tentatively with her hand. Mike grasped it and pulled her gently to her feet. She winced as she placed weight on the ankle. "Yeah, I didn't think you would be able to put any weight on it. Let me put you on Patrick and we'll give you a ride back to your house." She shook her head. "No, I can manage." "No you can't. Try to walk on it." She took a few steps, but all she could do was hop. "You see you'll never get home like that. Now let me put you on the horse, I promise he won't hurt you either." He led Patrick beside her. "I have to touch you again," he said as he bent his legs and grasped her waist before she could protest. He lifted her easily above his head and guided her onto the saddle. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She shook her head no. He talked to her as he led the horse down the path. She just nodded or shook her head when he asked her something. Occasionally she would say yes or no. As they approached the town, though, she had to give him directions and abandon the silent routine. He led the horse up to her house then helped her down. "Thanks," she whispered, then hopped toward the house. "You're welcome," he replied. He caught a feeble wave from her before she went inside. Mike mounted the horse and looked at his watch. Oh God, I'm going to be late, he thought. Instead of going back to the path he cut through town to try to make up time. They galloped alongside the road and up the lane to the house. He looked at his watch as he dismounted. It was five after eleven. Jim had watched his son gallop up the lane. Still in the throes of anger, he took it out on Mike. "You're late, I thought I told you to be raking at eleven!" "But Dad, I was..." "I don't want to hear it, boy! I told you eleven and it's after that. Put the horse away and get on the tractor. You're grounded for a week. No riding, no nothing, you understand me?" Mike nodded and led Patrick to the paddock. He walked the horse inside and quickly removed the tack. He couldn't understand why his father would be so mad over a measly five minutes. Chapter 3 Bill Garvin felt like celebrating. He had convinced two farmers today that foreclosure on their loans was imminent if they didn't agree to renew at the higher rate. The best part was that the stupid clodhoppers actually thanked him for being so understanding. Christ, they don't come much dumber than those guys, he thought. Yes, he felt like celebrating and stomped on the brakes of his Lincoln as he passed the sign for the Roadside Bar. He stepped inside, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. He took a seat at the bar and ordered Turkey on the rocks. He drank quickly, and signaled the bartender for another. "Let me get this one for you," a voice said. Bill turned and saw a man in faded blue jeans and t-shirt, a dusty old Redman cap on his head. The man held out his hand, and Bill took it. "Dave Handelman," the man said. "Bill Garvin." Dave nodded. "You're the new loan officer at the bank, aren't you?" Bill nodded. "Thought so." Dave knew who he was, his friend Angus Caldwell had pointed Bill out one day. Dave figured it couldn't hurt being drinking buddies with the bank's lending officer - especially given the amount of debt he had outstanding there. Bill drained his drink and waved for another. Dave pushed some money at the bartender when he brought the drink back. "Thanks," Bill said. "Don't mention it. So how you like Thomasville so far?" "It's okay, a little quiet though." "You got that right," Dave laughed. "Too fuckin' quiet if you ask me. There ain't nothin' to do in this town. This heah bar is the only damn nightlife for miles." "You're right," Bill agreed. They talked for a while, taking turns buying each other drinks as the evening faded into night. Bill told Dave stories about Conway and Dave regaled Bill with tales about the titty bars in Madison, the closest small city. "Ya know, I saw your daughter the other week, she's a pretty little thing," Dave said. Oh? Where was that?" "She was ridin' a horse with Jim Sanders' boy. They were goin' through town when I saw 'em." Bill slammed his drink to the bar and got up. "Hey, what's wrong?" Dave asked. "Nuthin', just remembered somethin' I gotta do." Bill walked unsteadily to the door and left. He managed to get the Lincoln home without hitting anything or anybody. He got out of the car, a dangerous combination of anger and whiskey coursing through his veins. He stumbled through the door and walked unsteadily back to his bedroom. He ripped off his clothes and threw them in the corner. The loud snoring of his wife told him she was passed out in bed, something that was happening more and more. He seethed, wanted to beat her for not knowing what their daughter was up to, but he had something else to take care of first. He stumbled down the hall and entered his daughter's room. Patience awakened immediately. "No, no, no!" she pleaded silently. Bill sat on the bed. "You know what I want, Patty, don't make me hurt you." Her small hand reached out slowly and wrapped around his flaccid cock. "Make it hard," he demanded. She fondled him and felt it grow slowly in her hand. God, she hated him. "Use yer mouth, suck it!" he demanded, grabbing her hair and pulling her head to his cock. He felt her soft lips slide over it and reveled in the sensations and the power he had over her. "Tha's it slut, suck it good." Her eyes opened wide and she knew it was going to happen again. The horror was going to happen again. "I think you got it wet and hard enough, slut." He yanked her head off his cock and threw her onto her back. He climbed between her legs. "Daddy, no!" she shouted. He slapped her hard across the mouth. "Shut up, bitch." Her legs flailed under him. "Stop kicking me or so help me God I'll beat you 'til you can't move." Her legs still kicked, and he backhanded her hard across the face. She gave up then and lay there sobbing as he placed his cock against her opening and drove himself inside her. She always screamed at the pain, he liked that. He clapped his large hand over her mouth. "Shut up, whore, you think I don't know 'bout your boyfriend? You spreadin' your legs for any boy you meet? Are you, bitch?" he spat while sawing back and forth inside her. "Here, whore, this is for you," he shouted and came inside her. He climbed off her, but not without a final swat at her small, heaving breasts. "You stay away from that boy, you hear?" She nodded, her face streaked with tears. "Good," he said as he stormed out of the room. She lay there sobbing into her pillow until she fell asleep exhausted. ------ Mike finished up his morning chores and walked to the equipment shed. His father was working on the tractor, changing the oil. "The chores are done," he told him. "Thanks." Jim straightened up, wiped his greasy hands on a rag. "Can I..., am I done being grounded?" Mike asked plaintively. It tugged at Jim and he remembered the angry words he had spoken to his son last week. "Mike, I shouldn't of... I mean last week I was mad about something else, something that had nothing to do with you being late, and well, I shouldn't of taken it out on you. I'm sorry, son." "It's okay," Mike said, his mood noticeably brighter. "Does that mean I can go riding?" Jim laughed. "Yeah, I don't need you for the rest of the day, go have fun." "Thanks, Dad," he shouted as he ran to get the tack. Patrick was at the far end of the paddock and Mike whistled to get his attention. The horse's head came up and seeing his friend at the fence he took off at a gallop to meet him. Mike laughed while the horse nuzzled him. "I know, I've missed you too, fella." He saddled him up, put on the bridle, and mounted the horse. "We have all day," Mike told Patrick as they jogged through the trees. He guided the horse down the path that led to the river. They rode for hours while Mike searched for a glimpse of Patience. He could feel Patrick getting antsy under him. He wasn't used to riding the same path over and over again. "I know, fella, be patient," he said. Something wasn't quite right and he worried about her. Maybe her ankle hadn't healed yet and she couldn't run. Heck, he had all day. He would just ride over to her house and see how she was doing. He turned onto the path toward town and the horse tossed his head in agreement, as if saying "About time." Mike guided Patrick through town, struggling to remember the way to Patience's house. He sighed in relief when he found it and slid out of the saddle to the ground. He tied the horse to a tree, then walked to the front door and knocked. He heard footsteps and a woman answered the door. "Yes?" she asked. "Hi, I'm Mike Sanders, is Patience home?" The woman turned inside. "Patience! There's someone at the door for you." Mike saw her coming out of the kitchen and noticed she wasn't limping. Patience was shaking her head at him as she came to the door. Panic raced through her. "Go away," she hissed. Mike saw bruises on her face, her swollen lip. "Oh my God, what happened?" he asked in alarm. "Nothing! Now go away, don't ever come back here." "Patience, what's wrong?" "I told you, nothing! Go away, I don't ever want to see you again," she shouted and slammed the door in his face. He could hear her sobs on the other side of the door. He felt crushed, as if the whole world had come crashing down on top of him. He plodded back to Patrick, untied him and mounted up. He turned the horse back toward town and rode slowly back to the farm. Jim saw them coming up the lane and noted the lack of spirit in both the boy and horse. He watched Mike unsaddle Patrick slowly then turn him out in the paddock. Mike brought the tack back into the shed and put it away. "Is everything alright?" Jim asked. "Huh? Yeah... no... it's something I need to work out on my own." Mike replied. "You aren't in any trouble, are you?" "No." "Okay then, sometimes it helps to talk things out, if you want to talk about it, I'm willing to listen." "Thanks.... Dad, I met this girl..." Jim laughed. "I'm sorry, son, if it's about a woman, well there ain't enough talking in the world that's going to help you figure them out. I ain't got your mama figured out yet and I've known her over twenty-five years..." He saw a big car speeding up the lane, dust billowing behind it. "Now who the hell is that?" he said out loud. The car skidded to a stop in front of the shed. Bill Garvin got out, slamming the door shut. "What the hell do you want?" Jim spat angrily. "I want you to keep that snot-nosed brat from sniffing around my daughter, that's what the hell I want!" Bill shouted. "You keep him away from her or I'll start the filings to foreclose on this farm, you understand me?" "Get off my property!" Bill smiled wickedly, "The bank has the right to inspect the property anytime it wants, it's in the loan agreement." "You're not inspecting, you're threatening, now get off my property." "You can forget about the bank renewing the loan. You keep that punk away from my daughter or I swear to God I'll have the papers filed so fast it'll make your head spin." "The boy has his own mind, he'll do what he wants and you can't stop it. Now get off my goddamn property before I call the sheriff." Bill retreated to the car. "I mean it, keep the fuck away from my daughter," he shouted at Mike as he got in the car and drove away. Jim gazed fondly at his son. "This girl you met, is it his daughter?" "I guess so," Mike replied. Jim shook his head, "Well now, I guess this just made it a hell of a lot more complicated, didn't it?" "Yeah," Mike sighed. Chapter 4 Despite his best efforts Mike didn't see Patience for the rest of the summer. He rode the path beside the river daily, abandoning his other riding trails. He changed up times but it didn't matter, it was as if Patience had dropped off the face of the earth, or at least never set foot outside. He considered going to her house, but given his last visit and the threats from her father, he felt it best not to antagonize him. The only bright spot in the summer as far as Mike was concerned was his sixteenth birthday. With it came the opportunity to get his driver's license. He had been driving vehicles on the farm since he could reach the pedals, so he passed the exam easily and now had the freedom to go anywhere. His Dad told him to keep as his own an old pickup truck they used to haul stuff around on the farm. Mike spent a lot of the remaining summer vacation fixing the truck and cleaning it up. ------ Jim belonged to the Grange, an organization that promoted agricultural activities and legislation to protect rural heritage. His chapter met once a month and Jim made it a habit to attend all the meetings. The speaker at this month's meeting was Leonard Miles, the soil conservation director for the county. His speech featured the latest planting techniques to minimize soil loss. Most of the farmers in the county belonged to the Grange and tonight had a good turnout. When his speech was over, the farmers milled about and talked to each other. It was apparent early on why turnout was so high. Everyone was discussing Bill Garvin and not a single farmer had anything good to say. Practically everyone had been called into his office and threatened with foreclosure if they didn't renew their loans at above-market rates. The more Jim heard the angrier he got. He decided to take action. Jim walked to the lectern and tapped the microphone. The loud thump told him it was still on. "Gentlemen, can I have your attention?" he announced. Farmers, friends for the most part, turned toward him, the conversation in the room died down. "Thanks. It appears most of us have had the opportunity to meet with Bill Garvin, the new loan director at the bank. Those of you that haven't can consider yourselves lucky." Angry laughter responded to the statement. "In most cases, Mr. Garvin has threatened us with foreclosure on our loans unless we renew at inflated rates. In my case his excuse was I made a couple of payments late. I haven't heard what he told all of you, but I can guess it was pretty much the same. We all know farming is a tough business, and cash flow is a constant problem. For years Farmers First has been the best bank to deal with. Steve Walker understood the farm business better'n most. If you were going to be late, as long as you called him, he understood and was patient. When Steve retired I expected some changes, but nothing like this. So the question is what are we going to do about it?" "Kill him!" somebody shouted. "I don't think that's a viable option," Jim chuckled, "although it would be satisfying. Anybody have any other ideas?" "Why don't we start our own bank?" Bill Chalmers yelled. Murmurs of "good idea" rippled through the crowd. "It is a good idea, but the problem I see is we all need to borrow, none of us has more in the bank than what we owe, so where would we get the capital?" Jim pointed out. "Has anyone talked to Steve Walker?" Lane Birdsong asked. "I know I haven't, have any of you?" Jim asked. Nobody said anything. "I know Steve about as well as anyone here, I guess. How about I ask him to speak to all of us?" There were shouts of assent amongst the gathering. "Okay, I'll do that. One idea I thought of was all of us banding together to take our loans to a single lender, I think we'd get some attention from some banks with that large of a package." Again the gathering agreed it was a good idea. "I'll talk to Steve about that, too. Anybody have anything else? No response. "Okay, thanks for your attention, I feel better knowing we're doing something." Jim walked away from the lectern and rejoined his friends. People came up to him and thanked him for taking the lead. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he drove home from the meeting. The next morning he called Steve. He explained what was happening at the bank and how upset the farmers were at the Grange meeting. Steve expressed shock at the way Bill Garvin was operating. Jim said the farmers would like to meet with him to see if he had any ideas on how to proceed. He warned Steve everyone was pretty upset and he would have to be at his diplomatic best. Steve laughed and thanked him for the warning. ------ Mike was sitting in homeroom talking to Eric Bellows about his summer when Patience walked in. He hadn't seen her since the day she slammed the door in his face. She sat down next to Eric. She still hadn't seen Mike or if she had, she didn't show any signs of recognition. Mike motioned to Eric to lean closer, then asked in a whisper if he would change seats with him. Eric agreed and they switched seats. "Hello, Patience." She looked at him and he could see surprise in her pure blue eyes, those same eyes he had fallen into when Patrick pushed him against her on the path by the river. "Come on, the least you can do is say hi back," he cajoled her. She sat there silent while the teacher called the roll. Mike tried to get her to talk, to say anything, but she remained silent. The bell rang for the first class and Mike lost her in the shuffle to change classrooms. He didn't see her for the rest of the morning. At lunchtime he got his tray from the cafeteria and was looking for a place to sit when he saw her sitting by herself. He made his way over to her and sat down beside her. "Hello again." He waited for a response. Patience looked around for someplace to get away from him. "Patience, I'm not going to bite, I haven't ever hurt you, why won't you talk to me?" She looked down at her tray and said nothing. "Patty, I'm not..." "I told you never to call me that," she hissed. He could see tears welling up in her eyes. She stood up and Mike stood up with her. "Well at least you're talking." She looked at him in surprise, he had a small smile on his face. "I thought maybe you had been struck mute," he joked. "Why won't you talk to me? Why'd you slam the door in my face?" "You wouldn't understand." She sat back down and Mike sat beside her. "Probably not, but it would have to be better than not knowing." She was talking for the moment and he planned on drawing her out. "I looked for you everyday after that, but you never were out running." "I wasn't allowed." "Why not?" "Because of you." "Me? What did I do?" "Nothing, but my father found out from someone that you took me home when I sprained my ankle, and I wasn't allowed to run anymore." "Still, what did I do?" "Nothing, you didn't have to, my father doesn't want me seeing boys." "He needs to get you blinders then. The world's lousy with them, it's kind of hard not to see them." Patience cracked a smile. "Was that a smile," Mike asked in feigned amazement. "No," she said looking away. "It was too, I know a smile when I see it." "Then why'd you ask?" "To see if I could get another." He didn't. "Why won't you leave me be?" "I can't. Since the first day I met you I've been thinking about you every day, wondering about what you are doing. I don't know why, but I do. I want to know everything about you, Patience." "No you don't," she insisted, getting up and leaving hurriedly. Mike sighed in exasperation and ate his lunch. Mike didn't give up easily. He managed to talk to her every homeroom before the bell rang to start classes. He'd tell her about the new tricks he was teaching Patrick, how the horse missed her. Mainly she ignored him, but occasionally something he said would strike her funny and a hint of a smile would appear on her face. He'd find her at lunchtime and sit beside her. The fact that she let him encouraged him. It wasn't much different than homeroom but sometimes she would talk to him. She never talked about her family. Mike told her all about his, how his Dad had inherited the farm from his father and gradually built it up to the size it was now, how his father and mother had fallen in love, or at least the version they told him. He was running out of topics and worried about what he would do when that happened. They were seated in the cafeteria and he was telling her about a trail he liked to ride when she interrupted him. "Don't you ever stop talking?" "I would if you talked to me." "How am I supposed to talk to you when you're talking all the time?" "Good point. Okay, I'm listening." She didn't say anything at first, then took a deep breath and began. She told him safe things about herself, things she liked and hated. Then she told him about Conway and the high school there. He listened and looked, fascinated with the way she moved her hands when she talked and the sound of her voice. The bell rang and it was time to go back to class but the wall had been breached and he was elated. The next morning she didn't ignore him in homeroom, and they talked about classes and things happening at school. At lunch they continued their conversations. Before they knew it they were friends and Patience was amazed to realize that she looked forward to their talks together. ------ The meeting with Steve Walker and the farmers went well. After hearing the complaints the farmers had about Bill Garvin he was convinced something was very wrong at the bank. He thought the idea to package all their loans together had merit, but he felt the best method would be to take their complaints to Conway and the bank's main office. Steve called a friend who was a vice- president at the bank and asked to be put on the agenda for the next directors meeting. The friend agreed, and Steve and Jim drove up for the meeting. Steve addressed the board first and explained how things had operated at the bank while he was in charge of loans. He then asked Jim to address the directors and tell them what happened after Bill Garvin took over. Jim explained how Garvin called him to ostensibly go over their loan and get familiar with bank customers. When they got to the bank he not only made them wait 45 minutes before meeting, but then threatened foreclosure unless they renewed the loan at a rate he could never pay. "The thing that struck me," Jim concluded, "was Mr. Garvin telling me the bank hired him to clean up the lending department at Farmers First and he had to comply with bank policies. It wasn't the bank's policy when Steve was our loan officer, and hasn't been the policy for the last twenty-some years I've been banking there. So I wonder, is Mr. Garvin speaking for the bank? If so, then we need to look for a bank that understands farming like Farmers First used to." On the ride back Steve and Jim talked. Steve felt Jim's speech had impressed the board and told him so. Jim didn't think it had and went over with Steve the steps they could take to solicit other banks with the packaged loan portfolio. ------ After Steve and Jim left, the directors discussed what they heard. While some of the directors felt it was good policy for the bank to force the farmers into strict compliance with loan policies, most had an agricultural background and knew the bank had been built on lending to farmers. By a vote of 6-3 they decided to start an internal investigation into the lending department at Farmers First bank in Thomasville. Chapter 5 Bill took a drink from his flask and put it back in his desk. Christ what a day! His wife had gotten so goddamn drunk the night before she passed out on the bed and hadn't moved since. He had showered and gone through his morning ritual. When he came out of the bathroom, the damn alarm was buzzing loudly and she just slept through the damn thing. Well he had given her a wake up call she wouldn't forget soon. Christ, the only responsibility she had was to take care of him and their daughter and she couldn't even do that right. Then he had arrived at the bank to find a team of auditors waiting for him. They were conducting a surprise inspection of the bank's loan portfolio. Bill called Victor King at the main office to confirm that the auditors should be there. King was the vice president in charge of Garvin's bank. King wasn't there but his assistant told Bill it was strictly routine. The bank was instituting new procedures in response to regulatory changes with which they had to comply. As the day wore on and he answered questions from the auditors, he began to wonder. It appeared they were concentrating on the farm loans, and their questions seemed anything but routine. He struggled all day to keep his anger in check while he answered question after question. They had finished just a short time ago and Bill had heaved a sigh of relief as he showed them out of the bank and locked up behind them. He stopped at the Roadside Bar on his way home. He had become a regular patron of the establishment over the past few months. Dave Handelman was there and they sat on adjacent stools. The two talked and drank and as Bill's tongue loosened, he told Dave about the audit he had just gone through. Dave commiserated with him until Bill left to go home. Bill thought about the audit as he drove home and the more he thought about it the angrier he got. He was in a drunken frenzy as he walked through the front door. Karen was sprawled on a chair, still dressed in the same nightgown she wore when he left that morning, a half-empty glass in her hand. Rage coursed through him as he walked over to her and slapped the glass against the wall where it exploded in a shower of fragments and liquor. She looked up at him bleary- eyed, her mind not registering the danger she was in. "You fucking cunt," Bill shouted as he slapped her across the face. "Goddamn you, you're shupposed to be takin' care of this house and our daughter. Instead you lay around all day drunk out of your mind. I thought I straightened you out this morning," he shouted, then backhanded her across the face. Karen fell out of the chair against a table, tipping it over and sending the lamp crashing to the floor. She lay there sobbing, blood dripping from her nose onto the dirty floor. Patience heard the shouting and cowered on her bed. She heard the crash of the lamp and despite her fear she got off the bed and cracked open the door to see what had happened. Her father was standing over her mother, kicking at her and screaming. Her mother was lying on the floor, a puddle of blood in front of her face. Patience ran over and grabbed her father. "Daddy, stop, you're killing her!" she screamed. "Get off me, bitch," he yelled. His arm flailed out and caught Patience across the face, sending her into a crumpled heap on the floor. Bill kicked at Karen again, then his anger spent, he shuffled to the bedroom and passed out on the bed. ------ Dave Handelman told a friend about his conversation with Bill in the bar, who told a friend, who told another friend. It didn't take long for the word to get back to Jim and the other farmers that the bank was starting to act on the information they had given to the board of directors. ------ When Patience walked late into homeroom the next day, Mike's eyes widened in surprise. She sat down beside him. "What happened to you?" he whispered as the teacher called the roll. "Nothing," she replied curtly. "That doesn't look like nothing." "Just drop it, please," she asked plaintively. Mike didn't want to let it drop, but the bell rang, cutting off his next question. At lunch he found her sitting at a table staring out the window. "Come on," he said holding his hand out to her. "Where to?" "To talk." "I don't want to talk." "I know, but we have to." She didn't want to go, but something compelled her to take his hand. He led her outside, away from the crowds milling around the entrance to the school, taking advantage of the Indian summer day. He sat down on the grass, his back against the building. He patted the ground beside him. "Sit down." She sat beside him. Mike sighed. "Patience, how did you get the bruises?" She shook her head. "Please, I'm your friend, I want to help you." She started to sob and Mike wrapped her in his arms and held her to his shoulder while she cried against him. He thought he knew the answer but he needed to hear it from her, so he patiently waited until she got herself back under control. "Was it your father?" he asked softly. He heard a little gasp, then felt her head nodding against his shoulder. "Your father did this to you?" he asked, his voice rising in surprise. She nodded, then started crying again. Mike heard the bell ring for the end of lunch. He kissed the top of her head. "Patience, we need to leave, classes are starting and someone will be out looking for us." She looked up at him. "I know a place we can go where no one will find us." He stood up and offered his hand. "Trust me," he said. Patience put her hand in his and he helped her to her feet. He led her to the truck and drove to his home. He parked the truck beside the equipment shed. "Wait here for a second." He walked inside the shed. His father was there, working on the tractor. "You're supposed to be in school," he said. "I know, but something important came up, don't ask me any questions, I'll explain tonight." "Son, I can't..." "Please." "It better be a good reason. Go on." Mike grabbed the tack for Patrick and carried it to the paddock. He whistled and the horse came running. He saddled and bridled the horse, then led him over to the truck. "Come on," he said to Patience. She got out of the truck and he helped her onto the saddle. He climbed on behind her and clicked his teeth to the horse. They rode across the fields to a small stream. Trees grew along it and Mike turned to follow the stream. "Where are we going?" Patience asked. "You'll see," Mike replied. They trotted alongside the stream, sometimes through it. Water splashed up in small tiny drops that glistened in the bright sunlight. Mike stopped the horse beside a dense stand of trees. He dismounted and helped Patience down. He led them through the trees into a secluded clearing. Mike loosened Patrick's saddle, replaced the bridle with a halter, snapped a lead to the halter, and tied it to a tree. He took a soft woolen blanket out of the saddlebag and spread it on the ground, motioning for Patience to join him. "Now tell me all about it," he said simply. She did. In a tremulous voice she told him everything, the drinking, how her father abused her mother, the awful things he would call her. She broke down in tears as she spoke and Mike held her close to comfort her. Then she told him about how her father started abusing her years before, at first physically, and then sexually. It shocked Mike that a man could do those kinds of things to his family, and especially to his daughter. She sobbed as she described the scene last night when her father was kicking at her mother as she lay passed out on the floor. "I thought he was going to kill her!" she wailed. "And when I tried to get him to stop, he hit me. That's how I got the bruises." She turned into his shoulder and sobbed some more. Mike stroked her hair while holding her and whispered, "It will be okay," over and over to her. He wasn't sure whether it was to comfort her or convince himself. He thought about what he could do. Patience couldn't go home, not to that. He warred with his anger over a solution to the problem. Anger wanted him to kill the man who hurt and violated the girl in his arms. Rational thought told him there had to be another solution. He kissed Patience's head and realized she had fallen asleep in his arms. What about her, what would be best for her? Getting her out of her home was the first thing, but then what? She needed more than he could give her, more than Thomasville had to offer. Madison probably had something, but he wouldn't know where to go. He needed to talk to his parents. Would they help? Yes, they would be as shocked as he was, when he'd tell them what was happening. They couldn't not help, it wasn't in their blood to turn away someone who needed help. Mike felt Patience stirring in his arms. Patience looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Thanks for the shoulder," she said as she kissed his cheek. "You're welcome." "Mike... I'm sorry you're caught up in this mess." "Don't be." She sighed deeply. "Do you hate me?" "God, no, Patience, I love you." It just came out, but the moment he said it, he knew it was true. He loved her and wanted to protect her. She had a look of shock on her face. "You love me? After all I just told you, you love me? Why?" "Because I do," he said simply. "I don't know why, or how, or exactly when, but I do." He was certain of it then, and awed by it. Her hand reached up and stroked his face. He kissed her palm. "You're amazing," she whispered. "Nobody's ever loved me." "I'm sure your parents did, or at least your mother." "Maybe, but if they did, I don't remember it. They certainly never said it." "I love you," he said again. She laughed, it felt so good to hear the words, to know someone loved her. She hugged herself tightly to him, felt him stroking her hair and back. It felt good to be held and stroked. To be loved. "Mike... would you kiss me?" He bent his head to hers, their lips pressed lightly together. Neither was prepared for the sensations, the thrills that pressing their lips together generated. Patience gasped in wonderment and Mike broke the kiss. She had never felt anything like it, and was curious whether she could feel it again. He stared into her soft blue eyes then Patience pressed her lips to his again. The feelings were still there, still ran through her, excitement and pleasure and love. She pressed her lips harder against him and felt something else, a longing to touch him, hold him, love him. She pressed tighter against him and Mike lost his balance, falling to his back. She followed him, her chest pressed against his, their lips moving against each other's. It was so different with love, it felt so good, so pure. There was no panic, no feeling of being forced. They broke their kiss and sighed. "So different," she murmured. Mike's hand stroked her side, her back, her hip. She caught his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing it softly. She felt safe here, with him, and she wanted more, to feel more, to feel the difference between being loved and being used, to erase the pain and humiliation with gentleness and love. What else would be different? she thought. She placed his hand on her breast and watched his eyes widen in surprise. "Please," she whispered. His touch was so light, almost like a feather, as his fingers traced over her breast. She felt her nipple harden when his finger brushed over it and gasped in delight at the sensation. She had known only rough mauling that brought only pain. His touch brought only pleasure and an empty, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach that demanded more. She sat up abruptly and pulled her shirt over her head. She reached behind and unfastened her bra, sliding it off her arms and displaying her breasts to Mike. She lay back down beside him, and Mike's fingers explored them. They were beautiful, so soft and silky, her nipples hard pink buds. He bent his head to her breast and kissed them. Patience gasped at the hot liquid warmth of his mouth on her breast. His tongue teased gently at her nipple, sending jolts of pleasure streaking through her. It was heaven and she never wanted to leave. She cupped his head to her breast, her fingers softly stroking his hair, relishing the silkiness. Each stroke of his tongue took her higher, made her crave more. She pulled his head from her breast and kissed his lips hard. She felt his tongue press against her lips. She hesitated for a moment and then opened her mouth to receive it. Even that was different, no taste of whiskey, no feeling of slime, only passion and pleasure, and a need to feel everything. She broke the kiss. "Make love to me." "Are you sure?" Mike asked, but she was already removing her jeans, kicking off her shoes. He hurriedly undressed beside her. She lay back on the blanket, her arms open, waiting for him. He had never done this before, but he knew what to do. He knelt between her legs, guided himself to her opening, and slid slowly inside her. She expected pain, it hurt terribly when her father did it to her, what she got was pure pleasure, a sense of fullness and completeness. Her hands reached up and locked behind his head, pulling him tight to her chest, her lips pressed against him. He slid out and she moaned her displeasure, then he slid back in and she groaned in pleasure. He made love to her slowly, gently, filling her with love until they couldn't contain it anymore and they burst into orgasm. They held each other tightly, not wanting to move, to let go of what they had found. Mike broke the silence. "I love you," he whispered. "Don't go home, stay at our house until we can find someplace safe." "I love you, too. I can't, if I don't come home, he'll come searching for me. If I go home he'll never know." "Let me take you to Madison. There must be someplace there where you could go and be protected from him." "What sort of place?" "I don't know, I need to find out, just please don't go home." "Do you... if I can get my mother to come will you take her too?" "Of course." "Then I need to go home, I need to talk to her. Tuesday we'll go. Daddy always has meetings on Tuesday and he doesn't get home until late. You find someplace for us to go and let me know about it in school, okay?" "God, Patience, Tuesday's four days away, he could hurt you, you'll be around him all that time." "I know, but I have to try and help Mom. I'll be careful, I promise." She started to get dressed. "I don't like it," he stated. She bent down and kissed him. "I know, but it will work out, you'll see." He tried to change her mind as they rode back to the farm, but she wouldn't budge. He picked up his truck and drove her home, stopping a block from her house so her mom wouldn't see him dropping her off. She kissed him softly. They whispered, "I love you," to each other, then she got out of the truck and Mike left. ------ That afternoon the lead auditor presented his findings to the board of directors. The pattern was obvious to everyone in the room. All but one of the farm loans renewed at the bank had been done at substantially higher interest rates. Interviews conducted with the farmers who had renewed told the same story. They didn't have a choice. Bill Garvin had threatened foreclosure unless they renewed at the rate he specified. Legal counsel informed the directors his actions exposed the bank to lawsuits from the borrowers. The board voted to demand Bill Garvin's resignation. They called in their vice-president, Victor King, and told him their decision. Victor said he was going to Thomasville for meetings on Tuesday and would demand the resignation then. The board agreed doing it that way made sense. Chapter 6 Mike drove home after dropping Patience off. His father stood at the door of the shed, waiting for him. "Well?" he asked. "I need to talk to Mom, too. Let's go in the house." They found Martha in the kitchen. "I love her... my friend Patience... she's a wonderful girl," Mike blurted out. "I don't know how to tell you this, but here goes." He took a deep breath. "Her father is abusing her physically and... sexually. He abuses her mother, too. They're in real danger every day. I've gotta do something." "Jesus," Jim and Martha gasped together. "Son, why'd you take her home, you should have kept her here," Jim said. "I know, I tried to get her to stay, but she wanted to go home to talk to her mother. I told her I'd take them to Madison to get them away from him." "Mike, you saw Garvin when he was mad, I don't think it's wise for you to get in the middle of this," Jim said. "They should have a shelter for abused women in Madison," Martha said. "That's where they need to go. I can find out, I'll look it up in the library tomorrow." "Thanks, Mom. I'm taking them away on Tuesday." He looked at his Dad, Jim was shaking his head no. "Good God, son! Why Tuesday? They need to get out now! I agree with your Dad, you shouldn't be in the middle of this." "Patience says he has meetings all day Tuesday. She feels they'll be safe enough until then as long as they act normal. Since he'll be away all day, I'll never see him, nothing will happen to me. I really need to do this for her, by myself, please?" "It makes sense," Jim said. "I don't like them being around him any longer than absolutely necessary, but if he's tied up in meetings, he won't know anything is up until you're long gone." His parents grudgingly gave permission for him to take Patience and Karen to Madison on his own. The next day Martha went to the library. She found a shelter in Madison that took care of abused women and copied the information for Mike. She gave it to him, saying "Make sure you get them settled good, and then get yourself back here." ------ Patience waited until she heard her father drive off. She found her mother in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a drink in her hand. God, she's gone downhill fast, Patience thought. "Mom, I need to talk about something important." Karen looked up at her daughter. "Mike Sanders is going to take me someplace in Madison where I'll be safe from Daddy. Mom, he said he'd take you too, if you want to come. Please come, Mom! Daddy's going to kill you if you stay!" Tears welled in Karen's eyes. She knew her daughter was right. Bill was getting more violent and it was only a matter of time before he killed her. She nodded her head. Patience hugged her mother tightly. "Oh, thank you," she said joyfully. "We're going to get away from him, he won't ever be able to hurt us again. I told Mike we'd leave on Tuesday. We'll have time to pack and get to Madison before Daddy even knows we're gone." "Tuesday," Karen thought, "all we need to do is hold on until Tuesday." She sat the drink on the table and pushed it away from her. "Thank you, baby," she whispered and hugged her daughter back. "I love you." Patience gasped and hugged her mother harder. During the next few days, Karen cut back her drinking. She couldn't stop totally - she got the shakes when she tried - but she managed to limit herself to only a few glasses of vodka each day. Bill noticed the improvement and felt he had finally found a way to solve the problem. There was nothing like a good beating to bring a woman in line. He had little to be angry about at home, and the weekend passed peacefully. Patience told Mike the good news in homeroom on Monday. At lunch he told her about the women's shelter. They ate quickly then took a walk outside. The Indian summer days had passed and the weather was turning colder. They walked around the corner of the school to get away from prying eyes. She pressed herself tightly against him and they kissed, softly at first then with increased passion. "I love you," Mike told her. It was still thrilling to hear the words, and to say them. "I love you, too," she replied. Mike held her against him and shielded her from the cold. "I want to leave as soon as we can tomorrow." "Daddy leaves for the bank a little after eight, then Mom and I need to pack our stuff. Is eleven alright?" "You can't be ready any sooner?" "Not and pack our stuff. Don't worry, Daddy will be in meetings all day, we'll be out in plenty of time." The bell rang and they hurried back into the school. ------ Tuesday morning started like any other day. Bill awoke at the sound of the alarm and shuffled into the bathroom for his morning ritual. Karen shut the alarm off and made his breakfast, setting it before him when he came in the kitchen. He read the paper while he ate, skipped the usual caustic comments, then left for work. Karen sighed, relief washed over her. Patience was already up and showering. Karen tapped on the bathroom door, yelled a cheerful, "Mornin', Baby," and went to the attic to get their suitcases. She dropped one off in Patience's room, carried the other to her bedroom, and began to pack. It was going to be a beautiful day. ------ Bill saw the bottle of Wild Turkey in the back of the car and remembered he needed to refill his flask at lunchtime. He hoped he would have time to do it then, the flask was almost empty. He drove to the bank in what was a pleasant mood for him, and thought about the things he wanted to discuss at today's meeting. Victor King was already there, waiting for him. Something was up, he knew it, Victor usually didn't arrive until well after nine-thirty, yet here he stood, waiting for him at eight-thirty. "Hello Victor, you're early." "I made good time on the drive down. I hope you don't mind, but this way we can get an early start." Bill unlocked the door, and let Victor inside. "No I don't mind, maybe we can take a long lunch." "We'll see." "Let me get some stuff off my desk and I'll join you in the conference room." "Okay." Bill walked to his office. He slid open the drawer of his desk and took out the flask, taking a quick nip before replacing it. He gathered some papers and a few files and carried them to the conference room. He sat down across from Victor. "So what do you want to talk about first?" Victor had thought about this moment the entire three-hour ride to Thomasville, and hadn't come up with a gentle way to break the news. How do you tell a man he's been fired without just saying it? "Bill, the board of directors has gotten some disturbing reports about your bank. They have requested that you resign." "What?" Bill shouted. "The board has requested you resign," he repeated. He took a letter from his briefcase and handed it to Bill. Bill glanced at the letter. He saw the word resignation and it was signed by the Chairman. "You, you can't do this to me," he shouted. "On what grounds?" "The audit of your loans uncovered that almost all of them have been renewed at rates higher than is customary for these types of loans. The auditors interviewed the borrowers and to a man they reported that you threatened them with foreclosure if they didn't renew at the inflated rate." "But they were all late, the increased rate was perfectly justified." "On the face, yes it was, but these are farm loans, and the bank has never forced penalty rates on farmers who are late with a payment now and then. If that were it, you probably would have gotten off with a reprimand, but there was more. The one loan that should have been foreclosed on you let be, you haven't even attempted collection. Dave Handelman hasn't made a payment on his loan for months. When the auditors asked around about him they were told the two of you were drinking buddies. What you've done is open the bank up to all kinds of lawsuits from the borrowers. For that, they've requested your resignation." Bill was livid, "I won't do it. I demand to meet with the board." "I was told to tell you if you didn't tender your resignation immediately, you would be fired for cause. There would be no severance pay, no continuation of benefits, and any reference provided by the bank would specify the reason for your termination. Be smart, resign." He took another paper out of his briefcase and pushed it over to him. Bill snatched up the paper and read it. The bastards had even typed up his resignation for him. "You fuckers have been looking for an excuse to get rid of me. You don't think I know that? You waived this job under my nose, told me what a great opportunity it was, all the time you were just waiting for a chance to screw me." He grabbed his pen, scribbled his signature, and tossed the paper to Victor. "You tell the goddamn board that if they were worried about borrower lawsuits the one I'm going to bring against them will make those look like peanuts. The whole bank conspired against me, and it will come out in the trial." "You need to clean out your desk." "Don't you tell me what to do, you fucking toady! I'll clean it out when I'm good and ready. You tell those pansies on the board that I was cleaning up the mess Steve Walker stuck me with. The only thing I ever did for this goddamn bank is make money. I was completely within my rights as loan officer to call those loans. Fifteen years, for fifteen fucking years, I've worked for this bank, and this is the way you treat me. I'm going to have the fucking chairman's head on a platter after I'm done, you just watch." He slammed his fist to the table and stormed out. He got some boxes from the file room, returned to his office, and started packing. Fifteen fucking years. He had worked his way up from teller, to junior officer, to loan officer. Fifteen years of kissing ass, for what? Goddamn them! In the bottom drawer he saw the flask. He drank what little remained, then tossed the bottle into the box and continued packing. By nine- thirty he was done cleaning out his office and he marched back to the conference room. Victor King was standing there looking uncomfortable. Bill slammed the key ring on the table hard enough to leave a mark. "Here's the goddamn keys," he shouted then stormed back out. He put the box in the trunk of his car and drove off, squealing his tires. At first he drove around aimlessly, anger coursing through him while he tried to come up with a plan of action. Then he spied the bottle of Wild Turkey on the floor in the back seat. He drove to the river and parked the car, taking long pulls at the bottle, while he contemplated his life and what he was going to do now. Goddamn them, his life was wasted, he knew that. The bank had ruined him. He opened the glove compartment. The metal of the Colt 45 gleamed at him in the morning sunshine. His hand reached out and grasped it. He took another pull at the bottle to get his courage up. Those motherfuckers had just thrown him away. He'd be lucky to get a job as a janitor after the hatchet job they would do on him. Well he'd show them. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash, "10:35, as good a time as any," he said to himself. He brought the gun up, pressed it to the side of his head. His hand shook... NO! Goddamn it, no! Why should he die first? The sonofabitchs that did this are the ones that need to die! He remembered Dave Handelman telling him that Jim Sanders had gotten the farmers at the Grange up in arms over his renew-or-else policy. That's who started this mess. He sat the gun on the passenger seat and started the car. He'd start at the beginning, then he would kill himself. He drove toward the Sanders farm, filling the car with chilling laughter. Jim Sanders was about to have his loan collected in a big way. That's it; he would start at the beginning, and make every one of the bastards that ruined him pay. Then the thought struck him and he whipped the wheel around. The big Lincoln fishtailed through the U-turn and he sped back toward town He had to do this right. If he was to start at the beginning it had to be Karen. His life had been shit ever since he married her. The fucking cunt had to die first, then his whore of a daughter. ------ Karen and Patience finished packing at ten-thirty. Karen was pleased at Patience's happy, joyful mood. It was something she hadn't seen in a long time. They talked about Madison and what it would be like when they got there. Their suitcases waited in the living room for when Mike would get there at eleven. ------ Mike stood beside the pickup truck, mentally going through a checklist to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Martha came outside with a basket. "Something for them to eat along the way," she said smiling. Her hand caressed his cheek. "I'm proud of you, son." "Thanks, Mom." Jim came over from the shed. "You be careful, you hear? There's no telling what that man is capable of." "He won't even be there, he's in meetings at the bank." "Still, be careful." He tousled Mike's hair. "You call us once you get them settled." Mike climbed into the truck. "I will," he said as he closed the door. "See you tonight." He started the truck and drove down the lane. ------ The women heard the car pull into the driveway. Patience squealed with excitement. It was finally going to happen, she was going to be free of the monster. Their mouths hung open, their eyes wide in terror as Bill Garvin burst through the door. He took it all in with a sweep of his eyes. Their bags were packed and they were dressed to go out. Patty should have been in school. They were leaving him, the bitches were leaving him! "Bad news travels fass, I see," he slurred, waiving the gun at them. "Sit down," he ordered. The women sat quickly. He walked over to Karen and backhanded her across the face as hard as he could. "Yer gonna leave me!" he thundered. "You fucking cunt, after all the things I've given you, yer gonna leave me! I don't think so!" He brought the gun up and leveled it at her head. Mike had just turned onto the street where the Garvins lived. He saw the Lincoln sitting in the driveway. "Oh, God, no," he moaned. His foot jammed the accelerator to the floor, then he slammed on the brakes as he stopped in front of the house. He jumped out of the truck and heard ear-splitting voices. "Daddy, no!" Patience screamed. Bill wheeled around, "Shut up, you stupid bitch!" "Patience, run," Karen shrieked as she jumped at Bill. He wheeled back around, pulled the trigger. The barrel of the gun was inches from Karen's forehead when it went off. She slumped to the floor surrounded by splattered blood and tissue. Patience jumped out of the chair and ran toward the door. Bill saw her and before another thought came into his head he pointed the gun and shot. The bullet slammed into her back, sending her crashing against the wall. Take that, bitch, he thought. He laughed and brought the gun to his mouth. He opened his lips and pulled the trigger. It was all over in less than a minute. Mike was running for the door when he heard the first shot, followed almost immediately by the second. "Oh my God," he moaned. He burst though the door, no heed to the danger, when the last shot went off. He saw Bill Garvin's head explode and looked to the floor where he saw Patience lying in a pool of blood. He dropped to his knees beside her, wrapped his arms around her. "Patience, oh God, Patience," he moaned. Her eyelids fluttered open. Her pale blue eyes looked up at him, they were almost cloudy. She smiled a small sad half smile. "I love you," she gasped. Her hand squeezed his wrist softly and went limp. ------ Epilogue He had dialed 911 immediately. The ambulance crew got there quickly but it didn't matter. They were all dead. He held Patience until the last minute, then the crew pushed him away while they tried to save her life. The bullet that ripped through her back had taken a piece of her heart. She didn't have a chance. The sheriff asked him questions and he answered to the best of his ability, his voice a dull monotone, devoid of emotion. His parents arrived and took him home. He went to his room, wanting to cry but the tears wouldn't come. He went to the funeral and stood by her grave as they buried her, buried his love. Still the tears wouldn't come. He went home and changed his clothes. He grabbed the tack from the shed and whistled for Patrick. He saddled the horse and rode him down the path to the river. When they got to the open stretch he clicked his teeth and Patrick took off in a gallop. He clicked again, and they were flat out. He tried to ride away from the pain, the ache in his gut that was tearing him apart. They approached the bend where he first saw her and he eased into a canter. They rounded the turn, and the path was empty. The tears came then, great racking sobs, as he mourned the loss of his love. ------ "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13 ..... But sometimes love isn't enough. -- Jack of all Trades E-mail: tradesjackofall@hotmail.com My stories can be found at my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+