Vengeance Is Mine

CHAPTER ONE

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You’re a piss poor wife, Macie.  But that’s the devil in ya.  I don’t reckon it’s all your fault.  Your daddy should have beaten him out of you when you were a child.  Now it’s up to me.  You are weak and Satan has a strong hold on you.  But know this Macie, I will beat him out of you, if it is the last thing I do in this life.  I’m not going to let you bring another child in this world full of the devil like the last one you bore.

Macie Jones lay in a heap on the tiny kitchen floor.  She knew the belt would come down again and again before her husband’s tirade ended.  The words she had heard repeatedly and the beatings were almost daily events.  All she could do was try to protect her belly from the lash of the belt.  Maybe if she could give birth to the perfect son, things might be different.  At the least, she would be safe from his touch for six weeks, as she would be unclean in the eyes of the church.

When JimmyJoe had spent his energy, she was barely conscious.  Yet awake enough to hear him say,

Get up and get yourself ready.  We’re due at church in less than an hour.

She knew she must find the strength to comply or it would be worse for her.  Missing church services was considered a cardinal sin, no matter what the circumstance.  It was just another torture she would have to endure silently.

Macie unwrapped her arms from her large belly and carefully pushed herself up from the floor.  Using the table for support, she tried to steady her steps toward the sink.  Using the cold well water from the hand pump, she washed away the running blood from the welts on the back of her legs.  Her thin cotton slip was plastered to her bleeding back.  The slip was the only one she owned so she knew it was useless to try to pull it away; instead, she decided to use it as a bandage for her wounds.

Almost trancelike, she walked toward the small bedroom and took her only Sunday dress from the hook.  Made of brown cotton, she winced as she maneuvered her arms and head into the dress.  With shaking hands, she fastened the buttons from the waistline to her neck.  Putting her feet into her shoes, she pulled her coat from the next hook.  Although the coat was only corduroy, it was better than nothing against the bitter winter wind outside.

The walk to the church was only a half a mile, yet Macie knew she’d be bone chilled by the time they got there.  She walked out of the bedroom and stood silently by the front door, signifying that she was ready.

The wood burning stove in the Church did little to warm the building.  Situated on the men’s side, it seldom radiated enough heat to reach the women and children.  All of the women and girl children in the church were dressed exactly like Macie.  Simple brown cotton dresses, brown loafers and no stocking or socks.  The boy children wore brown corduroy britches and white cotton shirts.  All the women and children had the same brown corduroy coats.

Macie and JimmyJoe were close to the last to arrive.  Macie sensed her father-in-law's expression without having to look.  She knew he wasn’t pleased and that she’d be blamed for their lateness.  As quickly as she could, she made her way to the child-sized stool in the corner.  For not the first time, she was being shunned by the community and therefore could not sit among the women in the pews.  It made no difference to Macie, as the women were not allowed to talk within the church walls anyway.  Her father-in-law, Brother Joseph Jones, the spiritual leader of the High Gap Community, took the bible verse of First Corinthians 14:35 very literally.  "And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church."  Any infraction of this rule would lead to chastisement by the church and further discipline by the husband or father for the embarrassment caused.

The wooden stool was hard.  Harder still was trying to stay balanced upon it after the beating she had received earlier.  Every part of her lower body ached and she knew there were welts still bleeding beneath her dress.  She felt the baby move inside her swollen belly.  Another two weeks and this child would be due.  If it were a boy child, Macie knew that many of her problems would be lessened.  Only once in twelve pregnancies had she given birth to a live child.  That child had died three years ago at age seven.  The death had been blamed on her although the actual cause was the beating given to Little JJ immediately after his fall from the barn loft.  JimmyJoe had never forgiven her for allowing their son's disobedience, which in his mind was the reason the child had died.

Macie attempted to listen to her father-in-law preaching from the pulpit, yet she found it impossible to pay attention.  She had heard it all before.  How the women and children of the community were out of control, disobedient to their husbands, fathers, and even worse, disobedient to god.  Macie no longer believed in god or anything else for that matter.  All she could hope for in life was a day without pain.

Once again, her father-in-law preached from the book of Ecclesiastes 7:26  "And I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands: whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her."  Macie knew that many of the women in the room would suffer this afternoon because of the sermon.  Never mind that it was Christmas Eve.  Macie only hoped that at least for today, the children would be spared.

Although she kept her head bowed, she stole sneaky glances around the room.  Anything was better than focusing on her own pain.  First, she looked at the children.  They all looked older than their years sitting in the pews on their hands, backs rigidly straight, eyes on the floor.  Each of them knew the sting of the belt for inappropriate behavior.  Children in High Gap were raised on two principles: Children were seen and never heard and Spare the rod and spoil the child.  By the time a child was two, they had full understanding of both concepts.

Next, she looked at the women.  Macie knew that many of them were in the same muscle and skin scarred pain as she.  Yet their eyes never left the floor in front of them.  They were her examples, these women, the good wives of High Gap.

She wondered, not for the first time, if the original women who helped form the community knew what the future held for them.  Brother Joseph Jones, known as Brother Joe to the men only, ruled the community of High Gap.  The women referred to him, as Brother Jones.  This rule applied to all men in the village they were not related to by blood or marriage. 

Nestled deep in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, High Gap consisted of a single six hundred and forty acres, a single section of land.  The land now owned solely by the church and the people controlled with an iron hand by Brother Joseph.

A single dirt road leads into High Gap. The road continues past the community to the top of the mountain and to an old hermit’s shack.  The village’s end is signified