by G. S. Carr
No! She couldn't give in to such thoughts. She had to continue fighting her demons, both inner and outer, until she breathed her last.
Shaking off the cloud that always accompanied a run-in with Beatrice, Deena squared her shoulders and marched on. She had work to do and no time to waste fretting over futures that might never happen.
***
Overcrowding. Horrible living conditions. Astronomical prices for basic living expenses. There were so many reasons for a person to hate living in New York City. But for each one, Deena had also had a reason to love it. Her favorite being the architecture. Elaborately designed brick and stone buildings reached toward the heavens. Each one was an exquisite example of true craftsmanship. No such grand buildings could be found anywhere near the rural plantation where she'd grown up.
Deena walked along the sidewalk, heading south on Broadway, marveling at the buildings. Some were five stories tall, occupied by various shops selling everything from clothing, to toys, and jewelry. In the distance, the steeple of Trinity Church peeked above the surrounding properties.
She should be surveying the surrounding crowd for an easy target from whom to pilfer a few items that would fetch a good price. Not ambling along like someone who didn't have a crushing financial burden weighing on their shoulders. Before she could chastise herself too much, a commotion started up behind her. Men and women shouting in displeasure, mingled with the sounds of fast-approaching footsteps.
"That's her," a man sneered. "That's the woman who stole from me."
Deena froze. There was something familiar about that menacing gruff voice. She glanced over her shoulder and every function of her body came to a grinding halt. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs stopped drawing in air. And her legs stopped moving, failing in their duty of carrying her away from the blatant danger headed in her direction.
It was Scar! The man with the dead, white eye and scar that ran across his face, whom she'd robbed yesterday. He had another equally terrifying and even larger man with him. They picked up their pace, sprinting and knocking innocent pedestrians out of the way in their haste to ensnare her.
"You're dead," Deena's victim-turned-assailant snarled.
His abrasive threat broke through the haze of terror, keeping Deena immobile. She did an about-face and took off running. The fabric of her skirt swished about her ankles, bunching and hampering her from racing ahead at full speed. She gathered the bulky material, hiking it nearly to her knees.
Gasps roses from the bystanders who made no attempt to detain the men chasing her. No doubt, they were more outraged by the indecency of a woman exposing her bare legs than the fact that two sinister-looking men pursued her. Clearly, with the intent to inflict injury.
"Pardon me. Please move. Out of the way," Deena shouted, dodging through the individuals she ran past.
"You won't get away. When I catch you, I'm going to wring your neck."
They were gaining on her. Deena didn't glance back, but the ominous threat came from right behind her. Digging deep within her reserve of strength, she forced herself to run faster.
Dear Lord, if you are there, please help me. I'm not ready to die today! I swear I'll never steal again.
Deena swallowed, the action causing her burning throat to throb. She needed a plan of escape. She had to think. How could she get these men off her trail?
Straight ahead, she spotted the sign for Cedar Street. If she took a left on Cedar, it would take her to Trinity Place, from which she could get to Thames Street. There was a perfect restaurant tucked away on Thames that most people didn't notice unless they knew what to look for. Making it there would be her best chance at giving them the slip.
Changing course, Deena made a hard left, diving headlong into the tide of carriages, trollies, and horses traveling up and down the busy road. Coachmen shouted and cursed her stupidity, demanding she move out of the way or be trampled. Thankfully, she made it across the street without coming to harm, although there were many close calls.
Cedar Street quickly ended, bringing Trinity Place within view. She'd arrive at her refuge in no time. Don't look back. Eyes forward and keep running. Wise words. Ones she should have heeded. Deena glanced over her shoulder.
Her heart shriveled and rattled down into the black void where her hope used to reside. Large hands reached out and grabbed the back of her skirt. She weaved to the left, avoiding the goon’s grasp. Unfortunately, her luck didn't last long. Scar came up on her right and rammed his shoulder into the side of her body, knocking Deena into the wall of a building.
The side of her head smacked against the brick surface with a sickening crack. Everything went dark, then slowly faded back into focus, white dots flickering before her blurry vision. Before she could reorient herself, two pairs of calloused hands clamped down on her arms with bruising force.
"Let go of me, you brutes!" Deena shrieked. She thrashed about like a wild animal, but it only served to make the men tighten their hold.
The men dragged her from the sidewalk, down a deserted side street the devil himself must have conjured for them to exact their hideous revenge. Refusing to give up, Deena screamed until her throat stung, then screamed some more.
No one came to her aid. Individuals walking nearby changed their course, some crossing the street, others turning around completely to avoid the disturbance unfolding before them.
Deena's entire body trembled, and hot tears stung the back of her eyes.
These men were so fiendish, they’d brazenly abducted her off the street in broad daylight. Men like that didn't fear consequences because life had taught them that there were none. At least none that they couldn't bribe, lie or kill their way out of.
They were barely off the main road and hardly out of view when one of the men slammed Deena's back against a wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. Scar leaned in, bringing his face so close to hers that their noses nearly touched. Each of his hot breaths blanketed the small space between them. Deena turned her head to the side to avoid inhaling the overwhelming stench of tobacco and alcohol.
"Do you know who I am?" Scar sneered.
Deena shook her head. It was all her aching lungs would allow her to do.
"Pete Bloodlow. And you stole something from me that I want back."
All the blood drained to Deena's feet, then evaporated from her body. Her eyes went round with terror.
The corner of Bloodlow's mouth curled into something akin to a grin, but ten times more terrifying. "So, you've heard of me." It was more a statement than a question.
It took a special kind of degenerate to strike terror in the hearts of others with just their name. Pete Bloodlow was such a man. Deena's entire body trembled like a withering leaf in a gusty autumn breeze. She'd stolen from the Grim Reaper himself. A man who brought death and destruction wherever he went. There had yet to be a person alive who'd crossed Pete Bloodlow and lived to tell about it. Deena was of the mind that she wouldn't be the first.
"Yesterday, you stole a..."
"I'm sorry. So sorry," Deena whimpered. "Please, please, please have mercy."
Deena begged without shame. If there was a possibility that she could make him feel a scarp of sympathy, she had to try. She no longer had anything to bargain with. Everything she'd stolen from him had been sold. Perhaps she could convince Benny to give it back. How she didn't know. The money had already been spent.
"Yesterday, you stole a piece of paper from me," he growled above her whimpering.
"A piece of paper?" Deena repeated, a bit too shocked to fully comprehend what he was talking about.
"Yes. I want it back."
Deena took several deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to remember everything that happened in Benny's shop. Her life depended on it. Had she seen a piece of paper among the other items? She squeezed her eyes shut, visualizing the countertop.
Her eyes popped back open, and for the first time since seeing Bloodlow's face again today, she felt a glimmer of relief. "Yes.
I have the paper. I can get it to you. I know where it is."
"Hey now," someone shouted from the entrance to the ally. "What are you two doing to that woman?"
Deena and her two captors turned their heads to look at the newcomer.
To her relief, not just one, but three men stood at the entrance of the alley. For once, someone had decided they wouldn't keep walking. For once, someone decided to help her. Deena sobbed, hot, joyful tears spilling freely down her face. She'd never been more grateful to another human being in her life.
The man at the front of her rescue group gripped a baseball bat. His crouched stance indicated he wasn't afraid to use it.
"Do you know who I..."
In a last-ditch effort to survive another day, Deena tossed a right hook, connecting with Bloodlow's chin. His head snapped back, and his grip loosened.
"Help me. Please help," Deena screamed.
Needing no other provocation, the three men charged down the alley, attacking Bloodlow and his crony. Their hands fell away from Deena. Not wasting time, Deena ducked beneath the fray of swinging fists and weapons and ran for her life. Continuing with her original plan, she ran to Trinity Place, took a left then continued to Thames Street.
Deena never slowed her steps, even when she saw the restaurant that she planned to make her hideout for the next hour or so. Hoping for a better outcome than the last time, she chanced a look over her shoulder. No one followed her. Her legs wobbled, weakened by the surge of relief.
"Thank you!" she cried out with her face lifted to the sky.
She ran on, not stopping until she reached her destination. Yanking open the door to the restaurant, she slipped inside and restrained herself from collapsing into an incoherent mass of blubbering relief. Although just barely.
CHAPTER FIVE
Deena slouched in her chair and loosened the bonnet ribbons beneath her chin. Her elevated body temperature, galloping heartbeat, and restlessness made it hard to stay seated without squirming. She jumped every time another patron scraped their fork across their plate too loudly or set their cup down with a thud.
Shortly after sitting down, a young serving girl in a simple navy-blue dress and crisp white apron strolled over to the table. Her pleasant, genuine smile helped to allay some of Deena's anxiousness.
"Good day, miss. What'll you have?"
"Tea, please," Deena replied, returning the girl's smile. She didn't need to peruse the menu. She couldn’t really afford the tea, but she couldn't sit here without purchasing something.
"Coming right up." The girl dipped her chin in a short bow, then ambled away to fulfill her order.
Deena scanned the cozy interior of the dining establishment. A handful of square tables were arranged in two neat rows and adorned with pressed white linen tablecloths, polished silverware, and folded cloth napkins. Paintings of families picnicking in the park, beautiful landscapes, and other lovely scenes hung on the walls, illuminated by the natural light streaming in through the large front windows.
Two women sat directly behind Deena, tittering with excitement about someone's impending nuptials. A group of men were a few tables away, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Overall, none of the other customers had taken notice of Deena. They were all too absorbed in their conversations.
That realization helped Deena to relax further. She'd done it. At least for now, she'd escaped the infamous Pete Bloodlow without losing any limbs or her life. Her next challenge would be figuring out how to make the getaway permanent.
Bloodlow owned the streets of New York City. His networks of thugs stretched from Harlem all the way across the East River to Brooklyn. He counted former members of the Daybreak Boys and the Bowery Boys as some of the top leaders in his gang. Even the Whyos gang steered clear of him.
Deena wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead and chin. If she were going to get clear of Bloodlow, she'd have to leave New York and probably the entire East Coast.
The serving girl came back before Deena could spiral too far down into the chasm of despair. "Here you go, miss." She placed in front of Deena a white teacup trimmed with silver along the base and handle, then tipped the teapot, pouring the steaming golden brown liquid into the cup.
Deena forced a smile. "Thank you."
"Will you be needing anything else?"
"No, that will be all for now."
"Please let me know if that changes."
Deena nodded. It was all she could do to keep from shouting at the girl to leave her be. Fearing for one's life made it hard to devote much energy to the niceties of polite society. But the girl had a rather pleasant disposition and was only doing her job.
Deena reached for the tea. Her fingers shook so hard the liquid sloshed in the cup, almost spilling over the brim. She closed her eyes and took several calming breaths.
Don't lose your head. There is a solution.
She'd figure her way out of this somehow. She always did.
To her dismay, the blathering of the two women behind her grew louder. Deena couldn’t think over their noisy conversation. She leaned back in her chair, listening for the perfect moment to interrupt and tell them that the volume at which they conducted their dialogue was rude.
"Again, thank you so much for this wonderful news, Mrs. Crenshaw," the younger woman said.
"As I've said before, please call me Millie. And I am more than happy to tell Asa you'll be along in two months. I'm sure he will be more than understanding."
"I do hope so. He is such a wonderful man. I've been carrying some of his letters around with me in my reticule. If my grandmother weren't so sick, I'd come straight away. I hear the Dakota Territory is lovely in a wild, rustic sort of way. A land with plenty of opportunities. Asa and his brother have done quite well for themselves. Oh dear, I'm rambling," the younger woman paused, no doubt blushing, or doing something of the like. "Please excuse me. That's what happens when I'm excited."
"No problem at all, dear. Seeing you this pleased affirms why I started my Matrimonial Agency in the first place. The Lord set me on this path to help young women like you find good men that will provide for their families. Men that you can be delighted to wed. I'm glad I'm able to carry out that mission through you and Asa."
"Thank you, Millie. I truly mean that. You are..."
The rest of their exchange faded into a low buzz on the edge of Deena's consciousness. From what she could piece together, there was a man named Asa in the Dakota Territory waiting on a woman to come wed him. They must have one of those correspondence-courtships Deena had heard about. Men and women were putting ads in the paper, or engaging agencies, to help them find spouses. Never meeting and only communicating through letters until they agreed to marry.
A new plan began to form in Deena's mind. What if she pretended to be the bride? She'd have two months to lay low out West. That would keep her well out of Bloodlow's reach and give her plenty of time to formulate a plan for the rest of her life. Maybe she'd continue west out to California.
As the woman had said, the West was supposed to be a land of opportunity. Like the North was supposed to be after colored people got their freedom. Deena scoffed at the cynical thought. Life in the North had proven to be nothing but hard work for little to no pay and with few opportunities to better one's circumstances.
But perhaps this time, it really could be different. She'd have a man taking care of her, temporarily eliminating her need to worry about money. She could spend her time learning a trade. Save enough to start her life over. When she left, she'd be equipped to find a respectable job wherever she ended up.
The more Deena thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.
What about the marriage bed?
Deena grimaced into her tea at the thought. She drummed her fingernails on the side of the teacup, brooding over this new shortfall in her plan.
Asa would have certain expectations of his wife, same as any other man. There was no way she'd be able to honor those expectations. But she
could make him think she had. Valerian root was the basis of a wonderful sleeping draught. One she could use on the nights he wished to exercise his rights as a husband. In the morning, she'd pretend their night involved matrimonial intimacy. It was a brilliant idea.
Deena lifted her chin and took a confident, steady sip of her tea. She was going out West. She's been wanting to leave New York City for a while now. This wasn't the push she’d envisioned, but it was the push that she needed to take hold of her destiny finally.
Now all she had to do was get her hands on those letters, which should be easy enough. Relieving a woman of her reticule was almost second nature at this point. Then she could find someone to read them and tell her where Asa lived. She’d send him a telegraph stating there’d been a change of plans and that she was ready to come to him now. All he had to do was pay the fare for her travel.
What about your promise not to steal?
Deena groaned. Leave it to her conscience to choose the most inopportune moment to remind her of her hastily made promise in the heat of desperation. She’d requested for God to help her escape Bloodlow, which he had, for now. Holding up her end of the bargain meant refraining from stealing. Which meant she couldn't assume this woman's identity.
Or perhaps, God was still working to make her escape permanent. What if he was presenting her with this opportunity to take the other woman's place as a mail-order bride? To fully free her from Bloodlow’s terror? And she wasn't actually stealing anything. She was merely pretending to be someone else for a short while. Carrying out an act the other woman already intended to do.
So, she wasn't actually going back on her promise.
This was her chance at a new life. She'd be a fool not to take it. A slow smile built on Deena's lips. Each passing second increased her excitement. She shifted slightly in her chair so that she could fully see the two women.