Don't forget to vote :)

The back steps of the house rattle as I thunder up them. I pass through the slave's hall and through the kitchen. The slave women watch me as I burst into the room and run across the floor, blood stains showing on my white shirt. I know they won't say anything though, most slaves are trained to keep quiet about what goes on in their owner's houses. I emerge from the kitchen into the back parlor. Taking the side door, I stumble into the library where Mason always spends a part of the afternoon to work.

"Mason," I yell the second I lay eyes on him. He turns from a bookshelf he was pulling a book from while holding a small stack of papers in his hands. His annoyed expression disappears when he sees the blood on me.

"Zeke, you're bleeding. What happened?" He crosses the room to me, taking my neck in his hands to try to find the wound.

I push his hands away. "It's not my blood. It's the man's."

Mason frowns, distracted by the blood splattered across my fingers. "What man?"

Hot tears brim my eyes and that stupid headache is back. I have to tell someone what I did. I need help and all my life Mason has been the one to save me from the messes I've made. If anyone can fix this my brother can.

"I-I- was walking and there was a man and a black girl in the field. He was trying to rape her and I couldn't watch and I went to help and I hit him and he hit me and-and--," I swallow my throat so dry it hurts. I push my fingers through my hair, pulling hard enough for the roots to ache. "I killed him. Mason, I killed him." I fall into a chair with my elbows pressed into my knees. My head falls in between my legs and I wonder if I'm finally going to vomit. "I didn't mean it. It was an accident, I swear."

"You what?" Mason's question comes out in a breath. Silence envelopes the two of us inside the library. I watch the hardwood tiles beneath my shoes. Without warning, I'm yanked to my feet by the top of my collar. I try to turn to look at Mason, but he shoves me toward the side door of the library and up the back stairs. He stays silent until he pushes me out of the stairway, and across the hallway to my room. He shuts the door quietly behind us before turning to face me.

"Now," he takes a deep breath, bringing his eyes up to meet mine. "Tell me exactly what happened. Every detail."

I tell him the entire events that led up to me killing the man. When I finish, he runs his fingers through his hair—a habit we both share—and starts pacing the

room. "Zeke, Zeke, Zeke," he chants under his breath as walks back and forth.

Watching his worried face makes my stomach turn. "Well? What are we going to do?" My voice cracks. "You have a plan, right? I'll be hanged if we don't do something. I can't die, Mason. You've got to help me. We-we have to fix this."

"There is no 'we' Zeke," my brother suddenly shouts. The anger voice surprises me and I jump a little, my nerves already on edge.

"Not this time," my brother continues. "You did this, by yourself. There's no way I can fix it, how can I?" He rubs his face with both hands. "Dear God, how could you be so stupid?"

Despair filling me, I sit on the edge of my made bed. Mother must have sent up one of the slaves to do it for me. I rock back and forth on the comforter, struggling to keep the bile down. Sweat drips into my eyes and my vision blurs—I'm not sure if it's from tears or the strain in my head.

"But-but you have to help me, Mason," I mutter weakly. "I don't want to die." I lean over and bury my face in my arms. The tears come, hot and fast and I'm glad Mason can't see my face. I've always been a problem to the family, now things were going to get ugly. Not just for me. Having a murderer in the family would disgrace our name, Father might even lose his job as mayor and Mother would be an outcast in her social groups. It would have been better if I had died as a baby, after all, then I could save my family the embarrassment of my drinking and now the crime of murder.

"Who knows you killed the man, besides the slave girl?"

I tilt my head back to look up from my arms. "What?"

Mason scowls and marches over to me. He takes my arms out of my lap and pushes me into a sitting position. "Now's not the time to shut down and cry, you idiot. Who else knows?"

I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. "Uh, nobody I guess. Those men didn't see my face, but if they're from around here, they might have recognized me. That field was right next to our property."

Mason nods, hands gripping his hips. "Then we don't have much time." He goes over to my closet and yanks the door open.

"Much time for what?"

"Don't be stupid. To get you out of here."

My slow brain tries to catch up. Mason pulls out a backpack from the closet and starts stuffing clothes from my dresser drawer into the bag. "Change out of your clothes and hide them under your mattress. I'll come back and burn them with the trash later. Put on something dark."

I slowly stand to my feet, my legs feeling like weights are tied to them.

"Hurry up, Zeke."

Raising my arms above my head I rip my shirt off. Mason tosses me a brown shirt, a pair of dark pants, and a hooded cloak. I change into them as Mason finishes packing my clothes. He stuffs the two hunting knives that were on top of the dresser into the bag as well. While I fasten the cloak around my neck, Mason runs out of the room, he comes back a few minutes later his hands full with a gun, a shell case, a loaf of wrapped bread, and a wad of money.

"This is all you can take without Father noticing. When you get to the next town, buy food and whatever else you need."

A lump forms in the back of my throat. "You're helping me. How come you're always helping me?"

"Of course, I'm helping you, you're my little brother. Here."

He hands me the bag and I adjust it over my shoulder. "I guess Father was right. I'm the worst thing that could have ever happened to this family."

"He didn't say that," Mason corrects. "Listen, killing that man—stupidest thing you've ever done, but I know it was an accident and I know you were doing what you thought was right. If I didn't think that, I would take you to the sheriff myself. You're an idiot, but you don't deserve to die." He surprises me by pulling me into a tight embrace.

"You know I've always kinda hated you," I blurt out. I didn't mean to say that, it just slipped out.

Mason chuckles lightly. "Yeah I know."

"But it's not your fault," I fumble for words. "I mean not really. You were being you and it's not like it's your fault that Father likes you better."

Mason pulls away from me. We're eye to eye; we have been since I was seventeen. But for some reason, the habit of tilting my head back to look at him has never gone away. "He loves you, you know. You're way more like him than I am."

"You trying to make me go ahead and throw up on your boots?"

Mason takes a hasty step back. "Do that and I don't care if you are my brother, I'll knock your lights out."

I laugh a little, for the first time today. "Thanks, Mason. And for the first I mean—,"

I'm cut off by the pounding at the front door. "Silver, you home?" Cold panic grips my limbs and I almost choke on my own saliva. "It's the sheriff, those men told him about the body."

"Okay, okay," Mason's breathing quickens. "I'll answer the door before Father does. I'll tell the sheriff you haven't been home in a couple of hours and you get out through the back door and take the side path to the woods."

Nervous energy runs into my toes. "Where am I going to go?"

Mason shakes his head, heading for the door. "As far away as you can. They'll put a bounty out on you. Canada."

"Canada?" My voice rises. "That's too far. I'll never see you or Mom again."

"We'll figure that out later." He's standing in the hallway now. "I'll meet you in Lincoln in a few days. We'll plan more than."

"Well, how am I supposed to get there?"

"You can't take a horse. Stay off the roads and away from people as much as possible." Mason turns and starts down the stairs. I run to the top stair, almost tripping down them before I grab the railing. "Mason!"

He looks up from the middle of the staircase. "Keep your voice down."

"W-what are you going to tell Mom?"

His eyes cloud over and become even more troubled if that's possible. "I don't know. Even if I lie, she'll find out the truth soon. Consequences, Zeke." He sighs, his eyes searching my face. "Be safe. I love you." He turns and leaps down the stairs to answer the front door.

That might have been the last time I ever see him again. I pull the pack over my other shoulder and run to the side staircase door down into the library. I creak the library door open and make sure Father or Mother aren't in the halls, then dart through the house back into the kitchen. The slaves watch me as I run by, my cape billowing behind me. I trip into the backyard and follow the side path like Mason said. As I near the woods voices reach my ears.

"I already told you, he hasn't been home. He got mad and huffed off at about two hours ago. He didn't even go in the direction of that field you thought you saw him in." That's Mason. He's arguing with someone. I veer off and move into the bushes on the property line of our house. Peeking over the limbs and leaves I'm able to see Mason standing on the front porch talking with the sheriff and another man. "Well, Mr. Smith said he saw your brother running away from the area where Billy McGraw's body was found. If we can just talk to the boy we can get this whole mess straightened out."

"Sheriff you know how he is. He's probably somewhere in the corner of the bar."

"He's lying," shouts Billy's friend, a man wearing a ten-gallon hat and holding a long arm rifle. "I saw that Silver boy running."

"You don't know that, Smith," the sheriff argues. "You said you didn't get a clear view of the man's face."

"I know that boy killed Billy. He's hiding his brother." He starts trying to push his way past my brother.

Mason shoves him back with one hand. "Hey, watch yourself. What do you think you're doing?"

"Settle down, Smith," the sheriff says. "He said he's not home. Let's wait for a spell and-,"

I choose that moment to lean too far forward and snap a dry branch under my weight. The noise in the otherwise silent yard, causes all three heads to swivel in my direction. I leap to my feet and turn away right before they can get a clear look at my face. I'm glad the hood is shrouding my face as I take off into the woods.

"Hey, that's him," Smith shouts. His words are followed by buck shots being fired. 

"Hey, hey!" Mason shouts. "That's the hired hand, you idiot. Don't fire on my property."

My brother's voice is the last one I hear before the sound of crunching leaves becomes a roar.

~

A/N: I liked writing and Mason and Zeke's relationship. Leave a comment if you would :) And add to your library for future updates.