The Pretty Horses

By Laurie Davidson

Morven is desperately afraid of two things: the mad old man who wanders the neighbourhood and Social Services who has the power to tear his family apart. When he realizes that the old man is merely a pitiful victim of teenaged bullies, he does his best to help him in practical ways while continuing his struggle to keep his family together, despite the fact that Morven is only eight and his mother is abusive. Neither Morven nor the old man see the world as it is. But eventually, the struggle is too much for Morven. He is forced to face reality. Almost. The pretty horses remain a symbol of hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426994128

Laurie Davidson

Laurie Davidson grew up on a backwoods farm in Peace River Country in British Columbia, Canada. She began teaching when she was twenty and taught for forty-two years in both rural and urban schools. She was also as an exchange teacher for one year in in England and a principal of elementary and secondary schools in Canada. She is the mother of a son and two daughters.

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© Copyright 2011 Laurie Davidson.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-4269-9411-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-9410-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-9412-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011915805

Trafford rev. 08/29/2011

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Keegan, run! He’s coming! Hurry . . . or he’ll catch you! Keegan!

Wait . . . the little boy wailed. Morven, wait for me!

Oh, why are little kids such pests? Morven sobbed in mingled fear and exasperation. He lunged back, grabbed his little brother by the wrist and yanked him down behind some garbage cans in the litter-strewn alley.

Shut up! he muttered through clenched teeth. Don’t dare make a sound, or he’ll get you . . . and if he doesn’t, I will, he added in a hiss as the little boy whimpered.

They huddled, shivering in the raw spring dusk, hardly daring to breathe as they listened to the slow, shuffling footsteps, the rasp of harsh breathing and the ominous tap, tap, tap of a stick. The sound stopped as the footsteps paused beside the overflowing garbage cans.

He knows we’re here, Morven thought, agonized. If he were by himself he could run, but little Keegan, even though he was known as the fastest five year old on the block, would probably freeze with terror. With good reason too, Morven thought, being fair. He too was scared of that crazy man, the way he stared and waved his stick around and talked to himself. The big kids in the neighbourhood said he caught little kids, took them to that ugly house with no proper doors or windows and did horrible things to them. What things, the big kids would never tell, but they looked at each other and said in a creepy way that Morven wouldn’t want to know.

He’s gonna get us! Keegan tugged at his brother’s arm.

Shh! He’ll hear you. Morven hissed. He grabbed Keegan, clamped his hand roughly over his brother’s mouth and tried to crouch lower, waiting for the footsteps to continue their slow shuffle, the stick to resume its tapping. But nothing happened, and something in the quality of the silence made him glance up quickly - into Crazy Seamus’ bloodshot eyes. Yellowed teeth showed under a scraggly moustache and Morven could practically smell his awful breath as a thin, purpled hand reached towards them . . .

Too terrified to make a sound, Morven twisted his body back out of reach, scrambled frantically to his feet, and ran, mindless, sobbing, until he realized that he was no longer holding his brother’s hand.

Keegan! He whirled, his heart pounding. Had . . .?

But the little boy was leaping off in the opposite direction, his thin legs a blurr. Morven relaxed a little, feeling a small stir of pride. No need to worry about Keegan, he thought, turning to put as much distance as he could between himself and the old man. His brother might be only five, but he could take care of himself.

And so can I, he thought proudly. He slowed to a walk, turning once to see if he was being followed, but the old man was still standing in the alley, waving his stick. Morven paused a moment, wondering if he had been silly to be so scared, but then he remembered the outstretched, clawlike hand and he shivered, frightened all over again. What made that hand such a horrible colour - was it blood? And his awful eyes with that queer look in them . . .no, he had been right to be scared. He must never, ever let those hands touch him, or touch Keegan. And what if - horror of horrors - the old man found out where they lived and went in when he and Keegan were at school and Mom was sleeping, and took the baby? The thought sent him running again for home. When he approached the compound in front of the town houses where they lived, he stopped to look apprehensively up and down the street. He drew a ragged breath of relief as he saw that it was deserted. Pale light from the street lamps gave an eery look to the scene, making it feel much later than it was. The smell of food pervaded the air, reminding Morven that he was so hungry he felt sick. They’d had a piece of toast at six, before Mom had sent them out to collect bottles.

Bottles! Morven stopped in his tracks. The bag of bottles were still behind the garbage cans two blocks away. Well, they would have to stay there until morning. Mom had promised to cook them a proper supper when they got back Morven’s mouth watered, thinking of it. When she was happy she made them mashed potatoes, corn and hamburger. It was the best, but Mom hadn’t been in a good mood for a long time now, not since Patsy was born. She hadn’t wanted another baby; she said two kids were plenty. Then why did she have babies, Morven wondered. And how could anybody not like Patsy with her round blue eyes, her round pink face and her soft little mouth? She always kicked and smiled whenever Morven went near her. But Mom said babies cost too much. Morven thought that was silly because all the baby ate was milk and the Welfare paid for that. They even paid for a crib for the baby to sleep in and they had given Mom money to buy a bunk bed for him and Keegan. Mom said the bed would have to wait because there were other things they needed, so the boys still slept on a mattress on the floor. Sometimes Morven wondered what the other things had been, because nothing was added to their place, but he never dared to ask. Morven heaved a great sigh. There was really no possibility of hamburger and mashed potatoes - more likely macaroni and cheese. They ate a lot of that - the cheap brand. But right now he could eat anything.

He opened the door a crack and waited, warily, alert for trouble. He noted with disappointment that there was no smell of food.

Where have you been all this time! And where are the bottles? his mother yanked the apartment door wide open and stood in it with Patsy perched on her hip. Morven backed into the poorly lit hall. She would not hit him unless he was in the apartment.

I said, where are the bottles?

I . . . left them just down the street.

You left them down the street? Where somebody else can bloody pick them up? her voice rose in fury. You can just damned well turn around and go back and get them! God, what a useless little . . . her voice broke off as a door across the hall opened and a wizened little brown face with eyes as beady and inquistive as a squirrel’s peered out at them.

Something wrong? the beady eyes darted from the woman to the shrinking little boy. A smile as malicious and evil as a troll’s twisted her face into a mass of wrinkles.

No. Nothing’s wrong. What’s it to you ? You old bitch. she added under her breath.

Noise is what. I’ll call the landlord. And don’t you go calling me no names.

I never called you nothin’. Can’t a person get mad at her own son because he ran off and left his little brother out in the dark, without some old busy-body stickin’ their nose in?

The old woman grinned again, evilly. Looks like the little brother just arrived. What I want to know is why little kids are out at this hour in the dark when they should be in bed sleeping. Eh? Looks like the devil is after that kid. she snorted gleefully as Keegan shot past into the apartment.

Get in here, Mom hissed, grabbing Morven’s shoulder and pulling him in the door. She kicked the door shut and tightened her hand viciously, shaking him as hard as she could with the baby in her other arm.

How many times have I told you not to run off and leave him? Do you want some busybody getting the Social workers after us again? You know that old . . . snoop is just waiting for a chance to call them. I’ll be very surprised if she doesn’t call them now, and if she does, it will be all your fault.

I’m sorry, Mom! I didn’t mean to . . . he broke off as his mother shoved him away from her so violently that he stumbled and fell.

Get up! And take the baby. I’ve got to get ready to go out.

Again? Morven asked in dismay, before he thought.

What do you mean, again? his mother snapped. Anyone would think I went out every night! I haven’t been anywhere for ages. I can’t stay stuck in this dump for another second! Day after day . . . nobody knows what it’s like . . . I’m just going out for a hamburger, and then we’ll go to a dance later. Todd will be here at eight - thirty, so you won’t be alone for very long.

Why does he have to come? Morven scowled, blinking back the sudden stinging tears. Mother had so been out just the day before last; that wasn’t long. We don’t need a babysitter. I can look after things. I do all the time.

I’d get in trouble if the Social Services knew you were here by yourself, and after tonight, thanks to you, I’ll have to be real careful.Remember what happened last time.

Can’t you get somebody else instead of Todd?

What’s wrong with Todd? He’s a nice boy. Are you going to change the baby or not?

He took his sister and went in to find a diaper.

Mom, her sleeper’s wet and so is her bed.

They’ll have to stay wet. I don’t have any money left to do the laundry. Why do you think I sent you out to get bottles? And you couldn’t even manage to do that for me.

I’ll get them and sell them tomorrow, Morven said. He pulled the sodden clothes off the baby, found a dry diaper and a T-shirt belonging to Keegan. His mother stood watching him and then in one of her inexplicable mood changes, she swooped on him and smothered him in a hug.

I know you can take care of yourself and your brother and sister, Sweetie, but it’s against the law to leave children under twelve by themselves. In just three years you’ll be old enough to be legal, and then, thank goodness, I won’t have to pay for a babysitter.

She smiled, gave him another quick squeeze, and whirled, loosening her pony tail as she moved so that her honey coloured hair fell in a rippling stream to her waist. Morven gazed at her in awe. No one else had such a pretty mother - such a young mother. She didn’t seem any older than Todd and his friends, and they were just teenagers.

Todd. Morven sighed as he picked up the baby, fussing now, and went to get her a bottle out of the fridge. He wished Mom would get a different babysitter. He wasn’t really sure why he didn’t like Todd, except that he looked at Mom in such a funny way when she wasn’t noticing. But whenever he said anything about Todd, his mother got mad, and said that he was being nasty and ungrateful. Didn’t Todd wash the dishes, help Morven with his homework and take good care of them? Why, he even read stories to them at bedtime. Who else had ever been so nice to them? Well, who?

And Morven had to admit that no one else had ever done so much for them. But he still wished Mom would get someone else.

Where’s Keegan? Mother stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her hair still loose in a cloud of gold. She was wearing skin - tight black pants, a tight black top, high boots, and was pulling her hair back to put it in a pony tail that she would fasten with a black scrunchie.

Mom, leave your hair loose. It looks so nice like that.

She smiled indulgently. Thank you, Sweetie, but it would get in my way. I’ll let it loose once I’m actually dancing. Where’d you say Keegan is?

He’s playing in the sandbox.

At this time? I thought he was afraid of the dark.

"It isn’t dark in the yard. The street light is on. Mom, who are you going with?

Hm? Oh, Greg Johnson.

I thought you didn’t like him.

Oh, he’s O.K. He’s just kind of old, but at least he pays my way.

He looks like an ape. Morven muttered.

What? Oh, there he is now . . . don’t forget that Keegan has to be in bed by eight-thirty and you should be in by nine. Be a good boy - and leave a little milk for breakfast.

Yes Mom. But Keegan doesn’t have school tomorrow, remember.

Hm, oh yes . . . damn, I forgot my lipstick. Get it for me, there’s a good boy.

After she had gone, he put the baby in her crib with the bottle and went to the kitchen to make peanut butter sandwiches. He poured two glasses of milk and then went into the bedroom and got down to peer under the bed. You can come out now, Mom’s gone.

Keegan crawled out, flushed and dirty. After he had eaten his sandwich he curled up on the couch and sucked his grubby thumb as he rocked back and forth, every now and then giving furtive glances at the window as if he expected someone to peer in at him.

The Crazy man can’t look in the window. Morven tried to reassure him. It’s too high up here for him to look in."

Oh. Aren’t we gonna have a baby sitter?

Mom said Todd is coming.

Todd came a little after nine.Sorry I’m late, he said breezily, throwing his coat on the chesterfield. I got held up, but everything’s fine, right?

I hope you aren’t going to make Mom pay you from six o’clock, Morven muttered.

What’s that? Hey, Keegan, you want to wressle?

Morven watched them rolling around on the threadbare carpet, his lip curling in disgust; a disgust that he could not have explained, except to repeat that he did not like Todd.

He looks like a girl! he had said once to his mother, who had at once flown into a rage.

Just because he has long hair! If you don’t sound just like all the other narrow minded, red-necked males in this hick town!

There had followed a tirade on how she expected more of her son than to judge someone just because they didn’t follow the steriotyped rules of the typical male and female. Morven stopped listening after a moment or two. It wasn’t because Todd’s hair was long, and he wore it back in a pony tail that he didn’t like him. And anyway Todd did look like a girl with his too full lips, his narrow body, and his long, girlishly soft hands.

Bed time! Todd stood up.

Aw . . . I don’t hafta go to school tomorrow. I can stay up. Keegan whined.

It’s almost nine-thirty an’ Mom said you’re s’posed to be in bed by eight.

"I never go to bed at