The Glistening of a Blade: Based on the Mystery of the Servant Girl Murders

By C.A. Donica

The year 1885 ushered in dramatic changes for the utopic city of Austin. Dramatic racial lines blurred from the Civil War and the introduction of the railroad brought new challenges and excitement to those who ventured into the rolling hills of Texas. Yet, there was evil lurking, watching in the shadows, waiting to pounce on the defenseless. A h

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.A. Donica
• Release date: Mar 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9781088286500

Book preview

Glisten

Chapter 1

His body was on fire. A rush of adrenaline distracted his attention, his heart pounded in sync with his footsteps. He took deep haggard breaths as he ran through tangled stalks of tall grass that taunted him, threatening to trip his stride. Bare feet, cold and damp, carried him further away from the chaos. Sticky blood splatters riddled his body were now hardening on exposed areas of flesh. He hastily wiped pieces of cloth and small fragments of bone and tissue from his forehead and chest. He felt sick, not from his what he had done but from the surges of hormone that continued to assault him as he sprinted through open fields and onto rural dirt roads.

He was euphoric, giddy, and almost childlike. A god in his own right and master of his domain. He had spent his seed in pure ecstatic pleasure for the first time as he took revenge for years of torment and pain. Experiences that left him cold, emotionless. He had not even been swayed by the look of shock and agony in his victim’s eyes. All he felt was rapturous delight.

It was meant to be. This is my destiny, Nathan thought to himself as he continued his trek. The thought made him unremorseful of his brutal act. He focused on the metallic smell of blood. Its sharpness was perfume to him, flooding his senses and feeding the sense of power. He was dizzy in the trance of his successful conquest.

Morning dawn would expose him soon. His dark ebony skin was an effective camouflage in the night, but the sun would offer up evidence of his violent escapades. Early risers would soon prepare for work and his only escape route left him exposed to any who ventured by.

Nathan emerged from a low-lying ravine and began to jog along the dirt road well worn by years of rolling wagon wheels and pounding horse hooves. The path was a prime route to and from Austin and fully exposed him. He increased his gate and crouched lower, giving the illusion of animal rather than human form.

Stables and dwellings of varying sizes dotted the landscape. They blocked little of the cold air that blasted across the riverbank nearby. Yet his exposed feet remained warm caked with dirt and the drying crimson of blood. Although being shoeless was not unusual for a servant, his naked frame splattered with body fluids would draw attention. He sprinted faster now, trying to dart among the tumbleweeds and sagebrush that lined the road.

Once he passed the river’s bend, he was offered a reprieve from the possibility of approaching passersby and was able to slow his pace. He paused to wash away some of the blood and fragments from his arms and legs, unaffected by the frigid water.

Beside the entrance to the freedman’s community was a large boulder that marked a safe point along his path. He knew the chances of him being seen were very almost nonexistent now and feeling confident, he retrieved the shirt and pants hidden under a slight overhang of bush beside the stone. Dressing quickly, he once again proceeded on his way. Slower now and with his head up, as any freedman would walk when preparing for a day of work.

Then, in a fleeting moment, it was gone. The euphoria, the commanding control, the god-like presence, all faded into the darkness. Now he only felt the cold of the air that seemed to blow right through him. It mocked him, rekindling the feelings of that vulnerable fumbling juvenile he had thought were extinguished. He knew then he was still a slave, held captive by haunting nightmares of childhood neglect, beatings, and cursing. The abandonment of his father to a tyrant stepmother who hated his every breath.

His act of revenge changed nothing about the contempt he held for himself. The only thing it had accomplished was the birth of something new he now struggled to control, an overwhelming craving for blood and vengeance. It engulfed his senses as if he had fallen into a marshy quicksand pit of desire. He knew he would pursue it until he found peace, until his troubled nights were free of the tormented memories.

Beads of sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging mercilessly. He lost his footing and stumbled, almost going down. He stopped and bent over to wipe some of the tears that now flowed freely.

Catching his breath, he cursed at the wind and his loss of control.

He fought the urge to return to town, to find another victim. He knew all too well the fate that awaited him if he was caught. They still hanged black men in the South, and he had no intention of being the next one swinging from a rope!

He focused instead on the anticipation of his work being discovered. The thought made him smile. He had gotten away without a trace, he was invincible. Evil satisfaction glistened in his eyes. No longer was he the abandoned black boy, hated by the shrew who took pleasure in his suffering.

He could still see her rage, hear the screeching of her voice, and feel the sting of her wrath.

§ § §

Young Nathan grew up knowing the shame of being a slave to his situation. Even though it had been almost 15 years since the end of the Civil War, and he had not experienced a lifetime of beatings or back-breaking work like his older relatives. He understood what it felt like to serve a cruel taskmaster. How it felt to have a whip cross your bare back when you weren’t fast enough to get away. What it was like to go to bed hungry at night for some chore that was not completed to the level required. He had been a whipping boy for his evil stepmother, a beast of burden she tortured with her serpent’s tongue.

When that wasn’t enough, she made sure to express her wrath in other ways. Horrible ways. Using a belt buckle, she would beat him. It’s metal rim glistening in the light as she swung wildly in a sadistic fury. It was all he could do to shield his face during these times. Curling up in a tight ball to protect the soft spots she targeted. Her shrill screams piercing the air around him.

Jus’ look at-chu. She would shout lunging forward without warning. You nuthin’ but a lazy piece o’ shit!

The first blow landed hard across his ear, knocking him over.

She would laugh when he fell. Uh huh, you ain’t neva gonna ‘mount to nuthin’.

Her lips would crinkle over long white teeth, showing her contempt for him.

Aside from her ability to swing a belt, there were two things Susan did well, cook and torture him with food. Her ability to prepare a delicious meal was almost legendary in their small community. She could make even the most unappetizing meat taste like it came from the fanciest restaurant, and she knew it. The delicious aroma emanating from the kitchen led to numerous tormented nights for Nathan. Being allowed so much food for the day, his meals were meticulously portioned out and swaddled tight in a cloth bag on the counter. He would grab the bag quickly each morning and run outside before she could change her mind. He had learned that lesson the hard way and knew better than to oversleep or hesitate to get the bag before she could snatch it away from him. It had become a game for her. One that she seemed to enjoy immensely.

Today was Saturday and Susan was once again cooking for the church potluck. The house smelled like heaven. Nathan’s stomach rumbled with anticipation, but he knew that if he tried to take anything outside the apportioned bag, his beating would be merciless. He touched the back of his arm where it was still healing from the last thrashing. One of the many times he had not been ready for it.

Singing her favorite hymn as she worked, she had even smiled at him when he entered the house. He assumed it was alright to reach inside the small wooden bowl for a small piece of potato she left enticingly just within his reach, but she had baited the trap and nothing could have prepared him for the wrath that erupted when his fingers met one of the perfectly diced chunks. His hunger had made him careless and he neglected to remember one of her many house rules, never touch any food other than what is in the bag.

In a fraction of a second, she had him. Grabbed him by the wrist and squeezed hard. Her face contorting like a demon as she brought the long metal spoon down. The cold hard handle met flesh with a loud Crack! just above his ear, knocking him off his feet and jerking his wrist free of her grasp. He crashed into the table that held the ingredients she needed for the church dinner, spilling some onto the bench and floor.

Suddenly, he heard a quick intake of air when Susan saw the bowls tumble to the floor and he knew it was going to get even worse for him. Laying there, vulnerable to her punishment, he pulled in his legs and pushed himself away from another swing of the spoon. Shrinking in fear as he reached the hard surface of the wall, he could only stare at the black eyes and devilish scowl that terrorized his nightmares. She laughed and mocked at his attempts to flee. What’chu thinkin’ lil shit? Dat ya can get away from me?

Then he felt it.

The all-too-familiar tickle of the liquid trail that dribbled down his leg and the overwhelming shame that followed. She laughed then. Shaking her head in disgust. She had humiliated him, and he hated her more at that moment than at any other time.

Ya better clean up da mess, ya hea’ me! She yelled over her shoulder as she stomped into the living room.

Maybe I should tie you up wit dem hogs out dea! Susan pointed to the pigsty at the far end of the fenced yard.

Only pigs pee they’selves.

She knew Nathan was afraid of the pigs. He had heard stories of men who were torn to shreds by wild hogs. Eaten while they were still alive! His youthful mind did not understand the difference between wild and domestic pigs, and Susan used this naïve thinking to dig deep into his fears.

The following Monday, Susan had left for town early, allowing Nathan time to complete a few chores early. Though he knew she was never happy with his work, he somehow still tried desperately to please her. As he finished up a repair on the fence, she returned from her shopping spree and jubilantly bounced toward him with her hands in her dress pocket. Nathan had hoped his diligence around the house would offer him some leniency but her expression dashed his hope immediately.

Come hea, lil shithead! She yelled and then chuckled heartily. I got sumthin fo ya.

She waved a small gadget in the air. It had been in her pocket. It was small and round and he could not recognize what it was from where he sat. Nathan slowly got up and walked over to where she stood. Once he got within a few feet, he stopped short, wanting to stay far enough away so she couldn’t get her hands on him. The move immediately angered Susan and she snorted in contempt.

Hea. She said thrusting out her hand toward him with the small item in it.

Nathan could see now that it was a round band, small and rubbery, taken from one of the paper bundles at the drug store.

Next time ya feel the need ta pee yo’sef, you best put that ‘roun yo lil pecka. She smirked at him. Caus’ if I see ya pee yo’sef again, I’m gonna tie ya up out thea wit’ dem pigs!

Nathan shrank away from her. He had no doubt she would do what she said if he peed himself again.

Put it on! she shrieked.

He looked at her questioningly, not sure he heard right.

She bent down toward his face and hissed, I told ya ta put… it… on.

Nathan never cried in front of Susan, but he was struggling to keep it in now.

The desire to turn and run was almost unbearable, but he knew if he did, he would pay much more later.

His stomach tightened and he could feel the weight of humiliation pressing on his throat, threatening to choke him. He gritted his teeth and glared at her. Pulling his pants down, he tried to shield his privates with one hand while he tied the band around his penis with the other, trying not to twist it too tightly.

She stared at him the entire time, not even blinking.

Once the band was on, she straightened herself up and put her hands on her hips.

Now, that’s mo like it. She smiled at her own ingenuity.

Ya betta hold onta that, caus ya gonna need it.

Then she turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the yard with his pants around his knees. His small penis turning purple as pressure from the band began to restrict circulation.

Nathan wasn’t sure how long he had stood there after Susan left.

His mind suddenly snapped to attention, and he grabbed his pants. Pulling them back up in one swift tug, he left the rubber band in place and ran to a small shack just east of a trickling creek he once played in. He could feel his member throbbing by the time he got inside the building. Taking off the band, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall and began pulling on his aching man-part, trying to get the blood to circulate. Once the tenderness eased, Nathan thought hard about the rubber band. He stepped over to the ground where it landed and reached down. Retrieving it, he noticed his penis grew hard, its little head standing straight out in front of him. Feeling a sense of pleasure he had not known before, he thought, maybe I will hold onto this, and he tucked the band inside his front pocket.

As the years passed, Nathan’s nights were consumed by Susan. Her screeching voice blended with pig squeals that chased him in his sleep. Her face would shift from scowling lips to a sow chomping slop and blood dribbling from its face. Other times he could see her enormous breasts bouncing behind him as he ran through tall grass. Blades reached out, attempting to trip his step, lashing at his legs until they bled. The broom his father had so lovingly carved from the old oak in their backyard was her weapon. He could hear her cursing after him as he fled. Then his father would appear, sitting on the edge of a stool on the front porch. His favorite tobacco pipe dangling from the side of his mouth. Wisps of smoke twirling overhead as he focused on his carving. Nathan lost himself in his father’s memory, when suddenly Susan’s shrill voice pulled at him like a magnet. Away from the porch, away from his father who continued whittling unaware of his cries for help as they drifted apart. He would wake with a start. Sitting on the small, thatched cot, he could still smell the tobacco. Only then would he allow himself to cry.

Cursing his father and his brothers for leaving, the tears flowed freely. They knew he had no choice but to remain, that he had nowhere else to go. Why didn’t they take him with them? Didn’t they love him? Why did Mama have to die?

§§§

So engrossed in his memory, Nathan was unaware of his jaw clenching until the metallic taste of his own blood brought his attention back to his escape. Descending the back of a low ridge west of the awakening town, Nathan disappeared into the ebbing darkness. A forgotten remnant of cherry candy was still tucked between his cheek and gums, he pulled it onto his tongue and swirled it around as he walked, relishing the tangy flavor and rush of sugar.

Nathan smiled.

Chapter 2

A delicate dust of snow fluttered to the dried grass and bare branches on the chilly Tuesday evening of December 30, 1884. Mollie Smith, a 25-year-old black cook, and her 30-year-old husband, Walter Spencer were just settling in for the evening. They lived in a small cottage behind the main house of their employer Walter K. Hall. The house was located on West Pecan Street which was considered one of the most prestigious and well-traveled roads in the Austin area.

Mollie was a lovely, petite woman with large dark brown eyes and smooth ebony skin. She was known for her sweet demeanor and shy nature. Mr. Hall had commended her on several occasions for her ability to get everything done in a timely fashion. She would beam with pride every time he mentioned it but was too humble to gloat. Walter was a tall, rugged man who had worked hard labor since his childhood years. Although he appeared somewhat brutish to those who did not know him, his personality was jovial and polite.

Mollie worked dutifully around the Hall home, finishing up her chores for the day. Once evening arrived, she returned to her and Walter’s small house and began preparing for the next morning. She pressed their clothes and tidied up their living space.

Finally, after a few finishing touches, she realized that there was just enough time to treat herself to a hot sponge bath. She placed a pot of water over the fireplace, set up the ceramic pitcher and basin beside her stool, and retrieved the small bar of perfumed soap Mr. Hall had given her as a holiday gift. Soap was a luxury that other black servants rarely received, and she was grateful for his generosity.

Mollie took a moment to relish the scent and feel of the gardenia soap in her hands as she waited for the water to boil. The soothing calmness was a welcome incentive but mostly she enjoyed the way Walter would inhale deeply as he hugged her, as if trying to pull her into himself. The thought made her smile as she draped a small cloth over the kitchen stool. Sitting her bare bottom on the wood seat in front of the warm fireplace, she filled the basin with steaming water and dipped a small, knitted bathing cloth.

Once it was saturated, she rubbed a little soap onto the cloth and then squeezed it over her shoulder allowing the hot liquid to trickle down her back. Feeling the heat loosen the tense muscles, she sighed with contentment and closed her eyes, dreaming she was sitting in a lavish porcelain tub. She took a moment to reminisce on the events of the day, marveling at how much work there always seemed to be done.

She thought of Walter and smiled. He always rose in the morning without hesitation, ready to get his work done. His face would beam with a smile as he kissed her good morning and then went to the main house. There he would stoke the fireplaces before feeding the animals and chopping enough wood for the remainder of the day. Finally, he would make a point to sweep through the kitchen one final time before heading off to the market. Today, Mollie had saved him a small biscuit and piece of ham for breakfast. He smiled broadly at her as she handed it to him, a smile that always made her heart skip a beat. He snuck a kiss on the cheek making sure none of the family were downstairs. The Hall’s had strict rules about public displays of affection from staff, so Walter had gotten very skilled at completing his work in time to get a little cuddle before leaving.

Go on now, get out, I have a lot to do this morning. Mollie admonished as she giggled at his boyish guile.

She thought about how he had grabbed her hand and squeezed it a little and then bound out the door, light on his feet.

As she continued to wash, she lightly hummed her favorite hymn and lightly dabbed the lathery cloth down each arm. Her mind continued to wander, and she thought of how wonderful life was and how she anticipated the night with Walter holding her in his arms.

§ § §

Walter hopped lightly down the back steps exiting the kitchen. He glanced down and smiled when he saw at the biscuit. Mollie always knew how to make his morning special. He took a big bite, relishing the salty taste of ham against the sweet buttery biscuit. He grinned again as he chewed with appreciation and trotted over to the stable. The horses were just finishing up the small amount of hay he had given them earlier, so he gathered their tack from the wall for the trip to town. Once the horses were finished eating, he geared them up and led them to their respective positions. Knowing the routine, each horse complied willingly and stood while Walter hitched their harnesses. He then checked the wagon for any broken spokes or other damage. Feeling confident all was in working order, he led them out of the yard and stepped up the side to sit on the bench. Seeing Mollie through the kitchen window, he grinned at her and tipped his hat. She returned his smile as he drove the team toward the main street.

Town merchants knew that when Walter arrived with the wagon, they could count on a big spending day. Mr. Marrow stopped sweeping when he saw Walter coming toward his store and called to his son, Scott. William Marrow wasn’t a large man, so he counted on Scott’s help with loading the wagon.

Good day, Walter. He said as he placed the broom handle in the doorway. What can I get for you today?

Walter halted the horses. Good day, Mr. Marrow. He answered. I have quite the list for you! We are getting ready for spring and are running low on a number of staples.

Well, you have come to the right place! Said Morrow. Scott will help you with anything you need.

As Scott arrived by the wagon, he smiled at Walter and offered his assistance. Walter placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, I hope you had a good breakfast today because we have our work cut out for us. He chuckled.

Scott laughed, Yes, sir! he answered as he collected the list from Walter and started skimming its contents.

William knew competition for customers was getting more intense with the influx of new business owners, so he appreciated customers like Walter and the Hall family. They had been regulars for years and he made sure they always got the best prices and service. The store owner stepped away as the two started pulling bags from shelves.

Once everything was loaded onto the wagon, William and Walter shook hands and said their goodbyes. Sometimes, William would offer a little something extra free of charge for the ladies of the house. Today, he handed Walter a small bag of individually wrapped hard cherry-flavored candies. Walter’s eyes opened wide. He knew this would make Eunice Hall very happy indeed. She loved the special cherry candies that were shipped in from Europe.

Marrow told Walter they had arrived later than expected so he saved them for his best customers. He also had a few for Mollie. Walter thanked him profusely and turned to mount the wagon. He thanked the keeper again before snapping the horse’s reigns lurching the wagon forward.

Walter whistled as he rode the wagon along the marketplace. He could visualize the expression on Mollie’s face when he presented her with the sweet treats he held in his pocket. She was always glad to see him, but this would make her smile even brighter. He planned to surprise her with the tiny foil-wrapped packages just after dinner. He always enjoyed how her face would go from questioning to elated, her eyes lighting up the room. He also thought this would get him a little special attention at night. This thought brought a new gleam to his eye. He and Mollie had been together since childhood, but he could never get enough of her attention.

Arriving at the house, Walter traveled around back to the root cellar door. He unlocked and swung the heavy wood panels aside, noting how much mustier the air was in the cellar. Mollie must have been down there earlier to arrange the older supplies forward so the new items could be placed behind them. She knew the importance of rotating stock and maintained the cellar better than any professional market keeper. The shelves were impeccable, and Walter was able to set bags along each shelf without any problems.

Once the wagon had been unloaded and all items put away, Walter started his evening chores. He spotted Mollie heading toward their home after the Hall’s dinner with a moderate bowl of their helpings from the meal. Today she made her special beef stew and homemade bread with churned butter. He had smelled it each time he moved past the kitchen window during his rounds and his mouth watered at the thought of eating it before nightfall. Even though the stew was reheated, it never lost the special flavor Mollie lovingly made it with.

Walter moved the wagon to its resting place beside the barn and unharnessed the horses for the night. Once they were safely in their stalls, he poured a hefty portion of grain into each trough. They had worked hard today and deserved an extra portion for the evening. Patting each on the nose, he spoke soothing words to them and hung the harnesses in their respective places. He then closed the doors latching them