Jack Kursed

Jack Kursed

by Glenn Bullion

Published by Glenn Bullion at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Glenn Bullion

Cover Design Copyright 2012 by
(http://DigitalDonna.com)

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Special Thanks:

Rieland Riggs

Pete Thiel

Dominque Nelson

Liz Weaver

Fate

K. Mathis

CHAPTER 1

Year: 1820

"Excuse me."

John nearly dropped the bucket he was
carrying at the sound of the feminine voice. He turned to see
Angela standing outside the gate on the dirt road that ran in front
of his home.

Angela looked lovely, as always. Dark
hair, emerald eyes, a slightly dirty white dress, a smile that lit
up her face. John smiled back at her. She carried two half-full
knapsacks, one in each hand.

"Angela," he said, putting
a hand to his chest. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

She laughed, a pleasant sound. "You
scare easily then, John. There's nothing frightening about little
old me."

His brow furrowed when he
noticed Angela was on foot. She lived alone deep in the forest, but
visited town once a month to trade. The journey was too far to
walk.

"Where's your horse?"

Her smile vanished. "He died, I'm
afraid, two nights ago."

"How did you get here?"

The corner of her mouth lifted
slightly as she gestured to her feet.

"This won't do at all," he
said. "Are you in town for trade?"

She nodded and lifted her sacks. "Yes.
Just supplies to keep me going."

"When you're done, I'll see if I can
borrow a horse from Thomas."

"Oh, no, that's not
necessary. I'll be in town most of the day. But I was wondering.
Would you know of a place I could stay for the night?"

John scratched his head. "Well, Miss
Elizabeth usually has an extra room or two. But, to be honest,
that's probably not a very good idea."

"Why not?"

He took a deep breath.
"Not many people in town like you very much."

Angela leaned her head
back and laughed. John couldn't help but be drawn to her neckline
and the tops of her shoulders. He never understood why such a
beautiful woman lived alone out in the forest. Her living
arrangement only added to the rumors about her.

"That's why I've always liked you,
John. Very honest. Tell me, does the town still think I'm a
witch?"

He lowered his head and
blushed at the fact she'd heard the rumors. Every month, as Angela
rode away on her horse, the people in town would gather outside
their stores and homes, watching her. They whispered in hushed
tones. Some would giggle, others prayed and read from their
Bibles.

"Among other things, yes,"
he said, smiling slightly. "Our little town still has their silly
superstitions."

"Every town does," she said. She
locked eyes with some of the passersby, and then focused her gaze
on John. "I understand you're not very popular
yourself."

John held in his surprise.
Not only was this the longest conversation he ever had with Angela,
but she was apparently asking about him around town.

"Most of the town simply...leaves me
alone. I'm a private man."

"That's a shame. I have to
go before the day slips away. But I was hoping, since my options
seem to be limited, would I be able to stay with you this evening?
I'll certainly pay for your trouble."

"Of course."

"Thank you, John," she said, smiling.
"I'll try to be back before sunset."

He watched her walk down
the road, moving in and out of the people going about their day. It
was only when she stopped at Mary's fruit cart did he realize what
he'd done.

He agreed to let a woman he barely
knew stay at his home.

Picking up his bucket, he
forced himself to remain calm. He leaned on the fence and looked at
the town around him. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the
sky. Birds danced on the ground as Samuel and his daughter Gertie
tossed them food. The blacksmith Alexander leaned against his wagon
and did his best to win the affection of Emily, the preacher's
daughter.

Their town was small, barely a hundred
people. John knew nearly everyone by name, although not everyone
knew him.

Someone waved to him, just behind
Alexander's wagon in the middle of the road. It was Angela,
laughing and holding up an apple.

John waved back, Angela's
infectious energy taking hold. He needed to tend to his garden,
pull a few more vegetables, chop wood, and then clean. It had been
months since he had company, and that was only a quick visit from
Daniel about possibly buying one of his farm's cows.

His spirits fell when he opened his
front door.

There was no need to
straighten up his home. John simply didn't own much. His home was
nothing more than a shack. His parents raised him here, and left it
to him when they died. John loved his home with all his heart, but
there were times he'd forgotten what it looked like to others. It
was barely large enough for a cot in one corner and a wood stove in
the other. There was no dining table, no chairs. His one luxury was
a tiny bookshelf near his cot with ten or so books, but his reading
skills were quite limited.

"What was I thinking?"

John spent the rest of the
afternoon trying to think of ways to send Angela away. Perhaps he
could speak to Elizabeth at the inn, convince her that Angela's
coin was as good as anyone else's.

There was the good chance Angela would
leave on her own after seeing the inside of John's home. He laughed
at the thought.

The sun had nearly set
when there was a knock at the door. John grabbed one of several
candles lying about.

"One moment."

He opened the door to greet Angela, a
smile on her face. Her knapsacks were full from a day of trading.
Her smile turned awkward as John simply stood there.

"Hi," she said. "May I come
in?"

"Oh, of course. Sorry."

He grabbed the sacks from
her as she stepped into his home. She stood at the doorway,
studying everything.

"It's not too late to find you a
horse. I know I live...very poorly."

"You live like a man who
takes care of himself, and answers to no one. You don't care what
others think of you. I admire that."

"Thank you." He set her knapsacks down
near the stove. "I see trading went well."

"Yes. Most people avoid looking me in
the eye during a sale, but I'm used to that now."

John worked over the
stove, making a stew large enough for two people. Entertaining
guests wasn't a strength of his. He was content to leave the
conversation for another day, but Angela had other things in
mind.

"I see you grow your own
vegetables."

"The best skill my parents taught me.
I'll trade in town, make some coin. I can't ask for much more than
what I have."

She was behind him, almost
uncomfortably close.

"And no woman to share your life
with?"

"That's...personal."

"Most of the people I
talked to today didn't have much to say about you. I'd mention your
name, and they'd look away, or change the subject. May I ask
why?"

John cleared his throat. "I wouldn't
think my name would come up during a sale."

"I'm curious about you."

He turned from the stove.
Angela was a few feet away, her eyes locked with his. So
beautiful.

"There's a plantation a
short ride from here. The town believes my parents rode in at
night, and freed the slaves there. There wasn't any evidence, but
still the town believes what it wants. My parents have been dead a
few years, but it seems hate can live quite a while."

He didn't know why he told
her. It was strange to even speak the words. The town didn't
welcome him, didn't invite him to their dances and gatherings. But
they tolerated him, and that was enough.

"That's what the town believes. What
do you believe?"

John said nothing. That
night was still fresh in his mind, even though he was only a child
at the time. When he woke up in the middle of the night his parents
were gone. Those were the longest hours of his life. He cried in
the corner in the dark, calling for them. When they finally came
back home at daybreak they were excited and emotional. His father
looked like he'd been in a fight, but they were both
happy.

They never talked about
what happened, and John never asked. But the rumors around town
started, and people talked with John and his parents less and less.
They pulled him out of school to help with the garden, and that had
been his life ever since.

When they died, he was all alone.
There was never any woman in town that took an interest in him.
Most wouldn't even address him by name.

"John?" Angela asked. "Are you
okay?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Just
daydreaming there for a minute. Let's talk about you. How is it
that you live in the forest alone?"

She raised an eyebrow. "How else would
I practice my witchcraft?"

He laughed, but quickly
grew quiet as she took a step toward him. The back of his legs
touched the stove as he tried to back away from her.

"I like you, John."

"You...don't even know me."

"I've watched you for a long time. I
know you're better than this town. You deserve so much
more."

Angela leaned forward to
kiss him. Gently, at first, touching his lips softly. Then she
wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

John knew he should push her away. She
was a mystery. He barely knew anything about her. But he was weak,
and it had been a long time since he felt the touch of a beautiful
woman.

He kissed her back, and
was almost surprised when he held her close, and she didn't pull
away. Rejection had been a constant companion all his life. He
almost expected Angela to change her mind. She didn't.

They moved from the stove
to his cot, the stew all but forgotten. They undressed as they
went, Angela's figure almost ghost-like by the candlelight. John
was mesmerized as she forced him onto the cot and straddled
him.

He didn't know her last
name, didn't know where she was from. He didn't know how she came
to be in the forest, or why she had taken an interest in
him.

As he took her in his arms, he didn't
care.

*****

John drifted in and out of
sleep. He didn't remember the last time he shared his cot with a
woman. They fell asleep naked, Angela's leg over his waist. It was
a wonderful experience, the real world blending with his dreams,
her quiet breathing in his ear. Her hair tickled his nose. He would
awaken, brush the hair away with a small laugh, and then fall back
to sleep.

From deep in his dream he
was aware she wasn't at his side. It was still the dead of night
when he opened his eyes. The candles had long burnt out, but
moonlight through the window let him see a shape hovering over him.
Curvy, with hair just past the shoulders.

"Angela?"

"We'll live together forever,
love."

Her hand touched his bare
chest as she put the vial to his lips. The bile, disgusting liquid
poured down his throat. He gagged and lashed out, striking Angela's
hand and sending the vial crashing into the wall.