“But Captain,” Ed argued.
“You are dismissed,” DeKlerk ordered.
“Yes, sir,” came the sullen reply.
Mary heard a shuffling of boots outside, followed by the second voice saying, “Ma’am, Sergeant Turner will no longer trouble you. I am Captain DeKlerk of occupational forces. I would be pleased to discuss our new regulations with you and clear up any misunderstandings you might have.”
Cautiously, Mary slid the bolt and lifted the latch.
A tall, handsome man stood outside. He had a disarming smile. Tipping his hat, he bowed low and asked, “May I have the pleasure?”
Mary felt rather self-conscious. “Pleased,” she said, giving a slight half curtsy.
“Is there a place we might talk?” DeKlerk asked.
Mary turned and led him to the kitchen. He slid the bolt on the door and followed. Silently she gestured to a chair. She couldn’t offer him tea or anything to drink, for she was out of water.
Taking the situation in at a glance, DeKlerk settled easily into a chair and motioned that she should do the same. “Ma’am,” he said easily, “I’m glad you locked your door. That is a good habit to get into.”
There was a long pause, for Mary said nothing.
Captain DeKlerk tried again. “Did Sergeant Turner trouble you?”
Color rushed to Mary’s cheeks, but she still said nothing.
“I see!” DeKlerk said with finality. “I assure you, he will not trouble you again!”
“Thank you,” Mary said a little stiffly. “Captain,” she suddenly blurted, “why am I being held a prisoner?”
“A prisoner?” DeKlerk’s eyebrows arched. “You are not being held prisoner, Miss …” He paused, clearly waiting for her to give him her name, but she said nothing. “I placed guards here to protect you, my dear lady.” His voice was smooth.
“Protect me!” said Mary. “From what?”
“Men like Turner!” DeKlerk said flatly. “I have a rather unruly bunch of men. They have been deprived the pleasures of home for a long time, if you know what I mean.” He looked knowingly into Mary’s eyes.
She could feel her cheeks burn, and she quickly turned away.
“I want everyone to remain safe during our stay,” DeKlerk said. “Do you have any needs?”
Mary met the captain’s eyes. “Yes,” she said boldly. “I will need water each day, and my larder is nearly empty. Captain Armonson always sent a few potatoes each day with a lad named Walley, but you apparently have a different use for the food and for Walley’s services.”
Jan DeKlerk rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know a lad by that name. Someone must have prevented his coming, but food and water I can supply.”
Mary’s eyes brightened. Maybe this man wasn’t so bad after all. “Thank you, Captain,” she said.
“Why don’t you call me Jan?” he said. “All my friends do.”
Mary blushed, but a smile crept to the corners of her mouth. “Very well, Jan. Thank you!”
Jan DeKlerk kept his word. Every morning a man arrived with two large pails of water and a basket of produce. Mary could scarcely believe her eyes.
Captain DeKlerk came to call nearly every day, and though his visits were brief and formal, they always left Mary feeling uncomfortable.
One evening she heard a knock at the door. “Ms. Cotton!” She recognized the captain’s voice. “May I come in?”
“Just a moment,” she called, wiping her hands. She untied her apron before slipping to the back door. Sliding the bolt, she lifted the latch.
“Evening, ma’am!” Jan DeKlerk looked so very tall and handsome with his hat in his hand and a smile upon his clean-shaven face.
“Good evening, captain,” Mary said politely. “Would you like to come in?” She felt a nervous tension growing within her.
“Thank you.” DeKlerk stepped past her and strolled toward the kitchen.
Nodding at the guard outside, Mary latched and bolted the door.
Jan inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma of freshly baked bread and boiling corn on the cob. “Ah, I’ve come at a bad time! You haven’t eaten!”
“Would you care to join me?” Mary asked, feeling a blend of emotions as she did so. She would enjoy the company, but her preparations were rather short for two people.
“Do you have enough?” Jan asked pleasantly.
“Yes,” Mary lied. “I fixed too much for myself!” She carefully removed and broke the ear of corn in pieces and sliced several thin slices from her small loaf of bread. Glancing around, she spied Captain DeKlerk’s hat hanging casually on the hall tree. That was not a problem, but she felt her stomach tighten.
“I haven’t any meat,” she said. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Jan said, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever you have prepared will be fine.”
Mary quickly laid plates and silver on the table. Setting out the food, she said, “Now we are ready.”
They spoke little as they ate, and Mary cleared the table soon after they finished their meager meal. She was nearly finished with the dishes when she felt movement in the room. Turning, she saw Jan rising from his chair, lines of concern etched on his face.
“Miss Mary,” he said softly.
Mary was stunned. No one had called her that since Walley’s last visit.
Jan noticed her reaction, and he reached out to hold her shoulders. “Do you remember asking about your husband’s status?”
Mary nodded. Captain DeKlerk looked so grave that a cloud passed over her heart.
“I am sorry to inform you,” Jan said. “Your husband was killed in heavy fighting some miles north of Green Meadow.”
Mary felt the room spin. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the man before her. When the full impact of his words struck her, she gasped, “Oh, no!” Suddenly her knees buckled, and she fell heavily into Jan’s strong arms.
The bedroom was still quite dark as Mary watched Jan button his shirt with swift, sure fingers. He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled on his boots.
“Nobody around here can handle the smallest problem,” he grumbled. The gray hues of dawn cast strange shadows about the room. “Lock the door behind me,” he said as he stomped out the door.
Mary listened to him clomp down the stairs and out the back door. She lay quiet for several minutes, anger building within her. Silently she slipped from the bed, stepped to the wash basin, and began scouring her skin roughly. She wiped a tear from her eye.
Why do I feel so dirty? she wondered. Bill is dead! What does it matter?
The night she had learned of Bill’s death, she’d felt so alone. Jan’s strong arms had given her the comfort she thought she needed. It had been easy to let him stay. But now she angrily splashed water in her face. “It isn’t right,” she fumed. “He should at least say he loves me!”
Mary grabbed the wash basin, marched to her window, and hurled the contents outside. Marching back, she finished dressing.
Below in the street, a man wearing a red coat had taken a sudden and unexpected bath. Swearing softly, Ed Turner looked up at Mary’s window and smiled a terrible smile.
It was late morning, and Mary was consoling herself with a cup of hot coffee. Maybe it wasn’t wrong to let Jan in each evening. He had been kind to her. She glanced at the ample supply of bread and produce on her counter.
She heard sounds at the back door. Why do they always use the back door? she thought to herself. Suddenly she remembered that she had failed to follow Jan down this morning and bolt the door behind him.
Mary’s guard had discovered her unlocked door, retrieved her empty pail, fetched water from the town well, and returned. He’d left the pail just inside and had discreetly closed the door.
There’s nothing to worry about, Mary thought. The guard is still at the door. Still
, something troubled her. She rose from her chair and slipped into the hallway.
Mary froze. She could hear the unmistakable voice of Ed Turner saying, “Get away from that door, or I’ll cut you in half.”
“Turner, get out of here!” Mary didn’t know her guard’s name, but he had a pleasant, boyish voice. “Captain DeKlerk will have you thrown in the brig if you cross this threshold.”
“Captain DeKlerk!” Scorn filled Turner’s voice. “He can’t keep her all to himself!”
“Put your blade away, Turner. The rest of you, get out of here.” A note of fear made the young man’s voice tremble slightly.
Mary stood frozen with horror. She heard the rasp of metal and then a thump against her door.
She flew to throw the bolt, but it was too late. The door came crashing open, nearly knocking her down. A grisly scene met her eyes. Her young guard lay across the step in a growing crimson pool.
“Well,” Ed Turner mocked, holding his stained sword aloft, “if it isn’t Captain DeKlerk’s woman!”
“Ed Turner,” Mary stormed, “you get out of here!” She tried to slam the door, but he was too quick for her. Stepping over the fallen guard, he grabbed Mary’s arm and pushed her into the kitchen. “Come on, fellows,” he called. “I smell coffee.”
Once in the kitchen, Mary twisted free of Ed’s grasp and turned to face her tormentors. Ten rough-looking men stood facing her. “What do you want, Ed Turner?” she shouted.
“Now, that’s not very neighborly,” Ed said, trying to caress her cheek.
Mary jerked away and fled to the other side of the room. There was a chuckle from one of the men.
“We’ve been doing some hard riding for Captain DeKlerk,” Ed Turner drawled. “And since we just got into town this morning, we thought a cup of coffee for the men would be a gracious thing for you to offer.”
“There’s coffee in the pot,” she said, pointing to the stove. “Help yourself.” Silently she prayed that Jan would appear and throw these no-goods out of her house.
“That’s not what I had in mind,” Ed said, pointing with his darkly stained blade. “Why don’t you get some cups and serve us?”
Mary shivered. Maybe she could get the guard’s attention at the front door, but Ed read her mind. “No, missy,” he said. “We finished him off before we came to the back door. One of my men is stationed there right now, so everything looks nice and cozy.”
“What do you want?” Mary asked again, glaring at Turner.
“Coffee,” he said pointing his sword at the stove.
Mary grabbed a potholder and lifted the heavy pot. She spun quickly, but the flat of Turner’s blade struck her arm, and the pot splashed noisily to the floor. Scalding coffee spattered around the room.
“That wasn’t a bit nice, Mary,” Turner chided. “You soaked me once this morning, and now you’ve tried again. I guess I’m going to have to teach you a lesson. Upstairs!” he demanded.
“No!” Mary retorted, rubbing her arm gingerly.
The tip of Turner’s blade touched her throat. He motioned the men behind him to step aside. “You threw water from your window this morning and soaked me. Now, I think you are going to pay for your insolence.”
“You’re a swine, Ed Turner,” Mary seethed.
Turner only smiled, yellow teeth protruding from his grizzled lips. “Maybe I am,” he said, “but I’ve been called worse. Now, I need something only you can provide, missy.”
“Men,” Turner ordered. “Block the doors! We don’t want the little lady to bolt on us, do we?” Turner lowered his blade to the top button on Mary’s dress and severed the thread. The button fell to the floor and rolled under the table. “Now, get upstairs,” he ordered. The motion of his blade was so subtle that Mary didn’t realize he had pricked her skin. Something warm ran down her neck.
Near tears, Mary brushed past Ed Turner and walked to the staircase. She could hear coarse laughter behind her. Reaching her bedroom door, her fingers touched the latch. Memories of her loving father crossed her mind. “Oh, Daddy!” she sobbed.
She could hear boots lumbering up the stairs. “Oh, no!” Alarm filled her mind. “They wouldn’t really go through with this!”
She slipped through the door and quickly swung it shut. The latch clicked, and she desperately wished she had a bolt on this door as well. Her eyes frantically searched the room for something to block the door. She took one step toward the dresser, and a terrible crash resounded as the door flew open and knocked her to the floor.
Mary closed her eyes, but she could not block out the sound of laughter or the scrape of boots as men shuffled into the room.
“I hate you,” she breathed through clenched teeth. She turned to see Ed Turner’s eyes flaming with lust. His sword pinned her to the floor. “No more tricks!” he roared.
“I hate you, Ed Turner!” She hurled the words at him.
Turner suddenly laughed and turned to the men filing into the room. “Well, isn’t it nice she appreciates the finer things in—”
He never finished his sentence. In his moment of inattention, Mary saw her chance and made her move.
Brushing his sword to one side, she leaped up with all the fury of a wildcat. Screaming, clawing, kicking, and biting, she tore not only the sword from his hand but the sight from his eyes.
Time passed slowly, and rough hands finally shook Mary awake. “Why didn’t you lock the door behind me this morning?” a voice was asking.
The room was dark, but through the one eye that was not swollen shut, Mary could see Jan towering over her.
“I warned you about my men!” Jan shouted. “Why didn’t you lock the door? Now look at you! You’re a mess! You’re of no use to me now.”
Mary began to sob as she awakened to the pain that filled her body. “I’m hurting, Jan. Please help me!”
“I’ll get a pail of water, but you’ll have to do the rest. I don’t have time to play nursemaid to people who don’t follow orders.”
Jan stomped from the room and slammed the door. Mary heard him tramp down the stairs. She tried to shut out reality. At first she did not think about Ed Turner or the men with him, but the longer she lay there, the more she remembered. Hatred filled her heart when she thought of her abusers.
Her hair was matted to her face and neck, and she shook from the cold, but she was far too weak to seek warmth beneath a quilt. A clock ticked somewhere in the room, and the sound seemed to swirl around her.
Remembering the button Ed Turner had cut from her dress, her fingers painfully sought the other buttons. Her cheeks began to burn. Her collar was gone, and her dress had nearly been ripped from her body.
She tried to move but nearly fainted from the pain that overwhelmed her. She wondered if Jan would return, but quickly decided he would not.
Sometime later she heard the scrape of boots on the stairs, and presently Jan appeared with a bucket of water. He stood towering above her, pail in hand. “You lazy wench,” he spat. “You haven’t moved an inch since I left. I ought to …”
Mary heard the water slosh as he set the pail down, and then she heard the scrape of steel as he drew his sword.
“Go ahead,” Mary whispered. “Surely a big strong man like you can kill a defenseless woman.” Though she had enough spunk to taunt Jan, something inside her died. Jan didn’t care what happened to her. No one cared.
Self-pity washed over Mary. She wished she could die. Jan had begun her mockery, and it was only fitting that he should finish it. Her affair with Jan was probably known all over town. She would be an outcast from anyone who cared about anything. Let Jan kill her. Her life was over anyway.
She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Jan shouting until she caught the end of his words: “And may your saucy tongue perish with you!” She watched Jan turn his back and shout, “Goodbye and good riddance!
”
Startled into reality, Mary wondered what Jan might have said, but she doubted it would have made her feel any better. She was alone now, really alone.
As the evening brought darkness, visions of terror crept through Mary’s mind. Shadowy ghouls and monsters filled her room. Slowly the monsters melted into one great demon. His eyes captured the last rays of sunlight, and he laughed hauntingly into her soul.
One day drifted into another. Mary had little strength and no will to move. Jan had never returned. I wish I could die, she thought. If only Jan had run his sword through me, my suffering would have ended, but even if I were to rise from this bed now, where would I go? Who would accept me after what I have done? No one! Well, Jan failed to end my suffering, but I won’t! I’ll refuse to move, eat, or drink. I’ll die right where I am. People will find me and realize they could have saved me, and they’ll blame themselves for my death.
But as Mary grew weaker, she began to fret. What if people only find a skeleton? Will anyone ever know how badly I have been treated? If they didn’t know, it would ruin her fantasy.
Mary had been hurt badly. Worse, she was now dehydrated and half starved. A fever caused her to sweat profusely one moment and shake with chills the next. For the first time in days, she realized that the clock on the wall no longer ticked. It’s all over, she reasoned. Time has run out for me.
She closed her eyes in resignation, and from somewhere in her mind, she thought she heard Walley’s voice. Mary drew the quilts around her. She couldn’t let Walley see her in this condition.
Once again she thought she heard Walley speaking, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Talk to me, Walley, Mary silently pleaded. I really need someone!
Am I losing my mind? Mary wondered. But when she listened a third time, she thought she heard Walley say, You can have peace in Jesus. Faith is the key.
The moment passed, but Mary continued to wrestle with what she’d heard. How could she ever find peace and rest now?
As the sun sank in the western sky, shadow monsters reappeared in her room. She tried to ignore them, but they grew and multiplied in her muddled mind. A whisper slid through the room. “There is no peace for you,” it hissed.
Beyond the Fire Page 48