Cadence

Twenty-one

Twenty-one

 

Lawless Langstons had been the title of Kathleen Morris’ gossip column that morning, and between thewoman’s gossip and the perpetual fighting with his insufferable father who so easily made him feel a complete failure, Curtis needed time to vent his frustrations. After entrusting his wife to the very welcoming and kind hands of his stepmother and sister-in-law he’d set to work in one of his two Charleston warehouses. Physical labor had always been a favorite outlet for his anger and while he had not grown into the towering giants his brothers had, he was twice as strong.

With sheer brute force he hauled a heavy barrel away from the east wall of the warehouse. That woman, that bitch, he mused,would have the whole of Charleston, including his father, believing his wife was a murderer and the Langston family was using their good name to coerce a cover up! The whispers that he and Cadence had been in on the murder together were already soaring. Kathleen’s gossip column would do nothing but compound the suspicion.

He should never have come back.

Hate was a strong word. Hate was a word he didn’t use lightly, but Kathleen Watson-Morris was a woman he was truly coming to hate. He’d always disliked her. While Curtis may have acquired a miserably black heart, he was not intentionally mean spirited. Kathleen, he’d been convinced for quite some time, had been born without a conscience. It was a conviction he’d come about during his school days with her…

School had come easily for David, Craig and Jacob Langston but not Curtis. And in truth he wasn’t bothered by this. He was forever in trouble at home it had been a natural transition to be trouble in school. The trouble had begun his very first day and all for his being left handed.

What was wrong with being left handed anyway? Apparently it was very wrong because each of the fourteen teachers he’d run clear out of the job with ruthless, if terribly clever, pranks had been far more concerned with rapping his knuckles for refusing to write with the “correct” hand, than realizing he couldn’t read.

Truth was, he hadn’t learned to read until he was sixteen years old, hell, even eight years later he struggled to read the newspaper headlines. He usually had to read a sentence three times before it made any sort of sense, and even then he couldn’t be sure if he was reading the words correctly. Sometimes the figures looked backward and other times letters looked exactly the same! E’s and C’s proved particularly troublesome for him…

Numbers were different. He could calculate large sums in his head faster than most people could sign their name to paper. He could build things too. See things in his mind and then make them happen. It was an ability which had proven especially useful in outmaneuvering the Yankee fleet and enemies in battle.

To Miss Watson’s credit he’d tormented her in the classroom and she’d been the first teacher not only to last more than a matter of weeks, but to discover his secret. Not that she’d helped him. She’d laughed until her face was blue and tears streamed from her eyes. She’d capitalized on Curtis’ established reputation as a hell raiser and made a public example of him for her own selfish ends. By speaking out against the Langston’s she’d found herself in the sudden favor of any who’d resented the city’s famed family for even the smallest of perceived slights or infractions. Now, years later, she was out to do it again, only this time it was Cadence swinging at the end of Kathleen’s rope.