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Michael Atencio
atenciomike@yahoo.com
318 927-4156
2698 words
Horror

The Widow Black’s Mansion

By

Michael Atencio

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Samson woke early. The sun was rising and the air already hot.

Shara lie next to Samson. He sat up and looked at his pregnant wife. A soft smile crossed his

face as Shara opened her eyes and turned toward him.

“You working again for that old lady?” Shara asked?

Samson nodded.

“Let me fix you some food to take with you.” She rose from the bed and went to the other room

of the shotgun house.

The house was your traditional shotgun, two large rooms with a passage way in between. One

side a bedroom and the other the kitchen area to cook and dine in.

The design of the house was such that even the slightest breeze would flow between the rooms

drawing the heat out and cooling the rooms naturally.

Samson walked back to the outhouse pulling a suspender up over a shoulder.

Upon returning, he saw Ted riding up on his horse. Ted waved at Samson, Samson didn’t wave

back. He was still irked about yesterday.

“I see you up early today.” Samson spoke as he climbed the porch and went into the house.

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“Yes I am. And you?”

“Just woke up.” Samson mumbled.

A half hour had passed when the men arrived at the Widow Black’s Mansion.

They no sooner reached the front porch than the Widow appeared. She startled Samson because

he didn’t hear her heels on the wood porch.

“Good Morning Mrs. Black.” Samson said.

“I don’t have time for that nonsense. I have a list of things I want you and the worthless nigger to

do while I’m away. I’ll settle up upon my return. Here is a list of chores that must be completed

before Friday. Saturday will be a big party here and it must all be finished by then.” She said in

her strict tone of voice.

Samson took the list and looked it over. He couldn’t read well but he knew most of the words

enough to do the job. He looked back up at her from the top step of the ornate staircase.

“I’ll have all of this finished upon your return Mrs. Black.”

She turned to walk away took a step and then stopped and turned back to Samson.

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“You’ve always worked hard for me and I have been terse with you every time you have worked

here. I wanted to tell you I greatly appreciate your assistance all these years. An old woman must

be strong you see. However, I find that perhaps I went too far at times and I thought it best to

clear the air. Do you understand?”

Samson was taken aback by this. Twenty years of working for the Widow Black and not once

had he ever been complimented.

“Yes Mrs. Black. And thank you for allowing me to work all these years.”

She tilted her head down at Samson looking him in the eye. Something she had never done

before.

“I have provided my attorney in town with a letter of great importance. If something were to

happen to me, he has been instructed to keep you working on my estate until such time you can

no longer do the work. You have a baby due soon and must take care of your family.”

Samson’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Thank you Mrs. Black. That’s very kind of you. Very kind. But no need to talk of that. You’re

going to outlive me I’m sure.”

She looked at Ted. Do you think you’ll have problems with that one?”

Samson turned and looked back at Ted standing by the horse.

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“No ma’am. He’s just that way but he’s a good man and works hard, with a little

encouragement.”

Mrs. Black went in the house then came out again a few minutes later. Samson was talking to

Ted but she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Samson... would you and him carry my bags down to the train depot?”

Samson hustled back up the walk to the porch. Mrs. Black pointed to her bags by the door.

Samson picked them up and carried them down the steps handing the heavy bag to Ted.

“You two take them to the depot. I’ll be there shortly. Just tell the train master I’ll be there

shortly”

“Yes Ma’am.” The men took the bags to the depot as requested and told the Station Master what

Mrs. Black told them to do.

Samson and Ted returned to the Mansion and started working on the list of chores.

Three days had passed. The men worked hard. Ted joked how great it was that the Widow Black

wasn’t sitting on the porch scowling at them and threatening them. Samson didn’t say much. He

just worked getting everything done as promised.

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Samson made sure the work was up to the Widow Black’s expectations. Even if she weren’t

here, he took pride in his work. Samson inspected the chore list one last time. Then he inspected

Ted’s work.

Samson yelled. “Ted, come here.” Samson was waiting at the side of the house where Ted had

been pulling weeds and raking the undergrowth out.

“Samson?” Ted took his time walking over to Samson. Samson seemed tense.

“Theodore, I was checkin your work an I noticed you didn’t do like you were supposed to.”

Samson pointed to the area. It didn’t look like the work had been done at all.

“Sam, that old lady ain’t never know we didn’t do this here. Bet she ain’t never been out to look

at it before even.”

Samson took a slow, deep breath. Thought for a minute then began.

“I work for the Widow Back. You work for me. You not doin this work is like stealing from her

an me. If you want to get paid, you get these chores you did right fore sundown. Works got to be

done by then. You understand?”

Ted was angry inside. He felt the anger well up inside of him.

“I asked you if you understand?” Samson leaned forward slightly, as an intentional threat.

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“Yessir Boss, I understand Boss.” Ted left and retrieved the tools he needed to finish his work.

Sundown approached. Samson walked the property inspecting Ted’s work. It was much better

now. Both men walked around the house one last time checking everything before leaving.

As Sam locked up the tool shed, Ted noticed something that caught his eye. The Widow Black’s

estate was a sprawling area covering a half block.

The back half of the house had a large glass atrium. Inside were Mrs. Black famous rose bushes.

Every year they won the county fair for the most beautiful. And she had many varieties of roses.

Samson would help her prune roses and keep the atrium tidy. Mrs. Black would tend to the roses

mostly alone but throughout the years, she had taught Samson about the upkeep and care

the roses required.

“Whatcha you lookin at?” Samson asked Ted.

“Back there, I seen Mrs. Black in the rose garden.”

Samson looked hard, then he saw her too. It was hard to see inside the atrium from the humidity

on the glass yet there was no doubt about it, it was her walking around tending to her roses.

“She must have come home and we didn’t see her.” Samson wiped his brow. The sun was setting

now and it was a long walk to the house. Shara would have some good food cooking and he

couldn’t wait.

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A light knocking sound woke Samson. He grabbed his gun and carefully opened the door

peeking out.

Mrs. Black stood there in the dark dressed all in black like she always did.

“Mrs. Black! What you doing out here in these woods this time of night?”

“I promised I would settle up with you but I need you to do one more thing for me and it can’t

wait.”

Shara heard the voices and joined her husband at the door just as he closed it.

“Sam, who you talking to?” She pulled the blanket tight to cover up and turned up the oil lamp

by the door.

Samson quickly pulled his pants and shirt on then his shoes.

“It’s Mrs. Black. She needs my help for something at her home. I’ll be back in a few hours. Go

back to bed.”

“Why does it have to be done this time of night? It must be three.”

“I promised her I’d have everything ready for her party today. She wouldn’t never come out here

if it weren’t important.”

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He kissed his wife and headed out the door. When he got to the front of the house, Mrs. Black

was nowhere around. She must have started walking back on her own... he thought.

Quickly he jogged down the road to town. Then when he could go no further, he stopped and

took a rest to catch his breath. That’s when he could see her dark outline on the road. He called

out to Mrs. Black. She stopped and waited.

Samson fast walked until he caught up with her.

“Mrs. Black, you shouldn’t be out at night. Not out here. What is so important you need me?”

“Come, we haven’t much time.”

She hurriedly walked towards the town. Samson took note of the clickity clack Mrs. Black’s

heels made on the road as they waked. A few minutes later they arrived at her house.

She stopped when they reached the front door and unlocked the door. Samson pushed the door

open for her.

“Let me make some tea. Would you like some Samson?” She asked in the dark as Samson lit the

oil lamp on the side table.

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Black.” She hurried off to the kitchen. A few moments later she returned.

“Samson, I need you to go upstairs to my room and check it for me. There’s something you have

to see. It’s all rather important and we’re running out of time.”

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Samson looked at her puzzled.

“Ma’am?

“Please go up and make sure it’s safe for me. I’m rather afraid and didn’t want to be alone.”

“Well yes ma’am. I’d be happy to look upstairs and make sure you’re safe. I’ll check down here

first and then go up.”

She nodded and poured her and Samson a cup of hot tea. Florence sat in a chair near the

fireplace. She sipped from her tea cup.

Samson walked through the mansion holding the lamp to see. He completed the downstairs

check and let her know everything was safe. Mrs. Black had started a fire in the fireplace and lit

a second oil lamp. Downstairs is fine Mrs. Black. I’ll go check upstairs. Mrs. Black smiled and

nodded to him as he began the climb up the red carpeted stairs. He placed his hand upon the dark

polished rail and began the climb. Carefully, he checked each room until he came to Mrs.

Black’s room. The door was shut. He turned the ornate knob and pushed the heavy door open.

The room was large and it had the usual furniture a bedroom would have. A bed, side table,

dressing table and armoire wardrobe. The heavy curtains blocked the now rising sun completely.

Samson went to the windows blew out the light and pulled back the curtains.

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Turning around, he was shocked by what he saw. It scared Samson so bad that he ran down the

stairs two and three at a time until he reached the ground floor. He stopped. There in the parlor a

fire burned, two cups of tea were set out, still steaming from being brewed. He walked cautiously

into the parlor and called out to Mrs. Black. She didn’t answer. He called out a second time and

again, there was no answer.

With great haste, Samson ran from the mansion. Ran hard till he reached the town Marshal’s

house. The lights were off, as he expected being the early hours of the morning. He hesitated to

knock. Samson had apprehension knowing full well the Marshal would never believe a poor old

Negro, but he knew he had to wake him. This was too important to wait.

The town Marshal, the doctor and several men stood around the bed in Mrs. Black’s bedroom.

Samson waited below in the parlor with the Deputy Boudreaux.

The Marshal came down and entered the parlor where Samson waited. The tea cups set out just

as they were when Mrs. Black set them and poured her and him a cup of tea.

“It appears that Mrs. Black passed in her sleep - at least that’s what Doc Gordon states.

Apparently she’s been dead for several days, since Monday night as close as the doc can guess.”

Samson stared at the tea cups in front of him.

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“I’m telling you she came to my house last night and asked me to come check her house because

she was afraid. Said she had to hurry. She poured these cups of tea when we came in this

morning. She lit a fire in the fireplace and I went to checking the house for her. She was sitting

right there where the Deputy is sittin now.”

Boudreaux quickly stood as if a hot coal landed in his lap. Marshal Mills and Samson were

startled by the deputy’s reaction and looked at the now uncomfortable deputy putting distance

between him and the chair. The Marshal turned back to Samson.

“Impossible. I examined her myself and she’s been dead for more than three days. That puts her

time of death around Monday night Tuesday morning, as close as I can tell.” The doctor asserted.

“I’m tellin you. I saw her, spoke to her. Even had a cup of tea with her!” Samson declared.

The Marshal nodded to the men on either side of Samson. “Mrs. Black having you in for tea?

Hard to believe.” Mills raised a hand to the other men in the hallway. “Get him up and take Mr.

Samson to the jail.”

The men lifted Samson up under his arms. They held tight.

“I didn’t do nothing wrong!” Samson declared.

“Sure you didn’t. You’re breaking and entering into the Widow Black’s home in the middle of

the night and I’m arresting you for it. Lock him up.”

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Three days had passed since Samson had been arrested for being in Mrs. Black’s mansion. “It

seems like you’re in quite a pickle Mr. Samson.” The judge said.

“I’m innocent judge.” Samson spoke. Shara in the back of the courtroom watching on, hands

folded over her nose and mouth holding back emotions.

The judge took off his spectacles and cleaned them with a soft cloth. He looked at Samson for

several moments than leaned forward and began to read the paper in front of him.

“Another matter has come before me regarding you and Mrs. Black. One that I will address first

as it has bearing on the second case before this court.”

The judge sipped a glass of water then continued.

“Before me, I am in possession of the last will and testament of Florence J. Black. I’ll skip the

legal language as I think it would be wasted upon you. Therefore in short, I find you not guilty of

burglarizing Black’s Mansion and do hereby order you set free. Upon reading the will of the Late

Mrs. Black, it appears she died childless and has no heirs to her estate. Her final wish requested

that you and your wife become the new owners of all of her possessions and estate worth more

than one million, seven hundred thousand, five hundred and thirteen dollars and some cents plus,

her financial holdings of the factories and railroads her husband owned prior to his passing. Her

will further states that upon her death, you are responsible for insuring her roses are well cared

for as well as the house and grounds. Do you understand what I have told you Samson?”

Samson stood stoic for a few moments taking it all in.

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“Mr. Samson, do you understand what I have said?” Samson looked up at the judge and nodded

yes. The judge slammed his gavel down on the block. “Case dismissed.” The sharp bang of the

gavel caused Samson to jump. Shara ran up the aisle throwing her arms around his big shoulders

crying.

The judge stood and waited for the couple to unclench. “Mr. Samson, you now have a great

financial responsibility. I suggest you come by my office later to sign everything. I’ll have the

bank manager stop in and discuss your windfall. I’m sure he’ll have some additional papers that

require signing to transfer everything over to you.”

Samson still embracing his wife nodded to the judge. “I thank you Judge. I’ll be there shortly.”

It had been a long week for Samson. So much had happened so fast that he felt overwhelmed.

Shara came out of the house and brought Samson a cool glass of lemonade. He sipped it and

smiled.

Shara sat beside Samson. She sipped her lemonade and put a hand on top of his hand, squeezing

it. “You know, there’s a box in there with ice in it. The box keeps food cold. I ain’t never seen

one before.”

They laughed at the absurdity of it all. A man on a horse trotted up to the front gate. It was

Theodore.

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Theodore got down and tied the horse to the fence.

Samson waved at him.

“Would you like some lemonade Ted?” Shara asked.

He looked up at her and nodded. Shara went into the house to get another glass. As soon as she

was out of sight, Ted spoke.

“We saw her in the garden in back Samson, How she be dead three days before that?”

Samson didn’t say a word.

“You and I both carried them bags to the train station for her. Remember?”

“Yes. I remember. But the Station Master said she picked them up and took them home. He

figured she changed her mind. I found them upstairs in her room... Don’t know what to make of

that. Not sure I want to.”

Shara came out with the glass and poured Ted lemonade. She set the glass on the table. Ted

reached for it and the glass flew off the table into the yard.

All three sat stunned. Finally, Samson spoke. “Did you see that!”

Ted shook his head, eyes wide and nervous. “What the Hell was that?”

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Samson nodded and shook it off. “That…” Samson began. “was, Mrs. Black I believe.”

Ted tilted his head at Samson questioningly. Samson continued. “She was right about you. You

lazy and gotta be watched cause you be wandering round and drinkin that corn whiskey all the

time.”

“What you care. Ain’t never your mind.” Ted said indignantly. There was a tone of anger in

Ted’s voice. “Nigga, you ain’t no different than me. Now you think you Mr. Fancy Pants all

dressed up in the big house.”

Theodore reached into his waistband in the back of his pants and produced a pistol. He pointed it

at Samson.

“Now hold on Ted. No need for that.” The big man raised his hand pointing at the gun.

“You gonna give me money or I’m going to shoot you. All I want is enough to git me’s and

mines some where’s a ways from here. You got mo money than you needs an you’re going to

give some it to me else I’m givin you this!” He punched the old revolver towards Samson.

Samson started to rise from his chair when a cold breeze swept through. Suddenly, Ted was

lifted and thrown from the porch landing at the bottom of the stairs. The pistol bounced and

landing on the porch near Samson’s foot.

Samson stood. He took the gun and pointed it at Ted.

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“You’re on my property and you gonna think you gonna come and kill me after all I done for

you? Better git. Go on. Git! You come back, I’ll use this here on your ass!”

Ted heard the last part as he ran as fast as he could, mounted his horse and rode off.

Samson and Shara never saw him again. The baby was born, just a few months later. A strong

baby boy. Samson and Shara named him Flore, after Florence Black.

Shara handed Samson the baby. “He sure is gonna be strong when he grows up, just like his

father.”

Samson smiled as the baby wrapped his tiny fingers around Samson’s index finger.

“I think so, Shara. And you know why?” Still playing with his baby.

“Why?” Shara asked.

“Cause Mrs. Black’s looking out for us. After what she did to Ted, I ain’t got a worry in the

world about us in this house.”

Shara took the baby in to be changed. Samson leaned back in the chair. The fire burned in the

fireplace. The tea cup rattled enough for Samson to hear it. He took it as a sign that Mrs. Black

was saying she’s going to protect them forever.

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