by Tonia Brown
“I don’t want to go with them,” I said over her. I heard the whine in my voice, yet couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go. I couldn’t go with those men. Especially not with the one that kept staring at me.
Mab sighed. “I know this isn’t ideal, but neither is you being stuck out here alone to begin with. He might not seem like it, but Stretch is a decent man. I don’t know about his friends. I can’t vouch for them. I’ve known Stretch for a long time, even before he ended up over the border. He’s not as bad as most of the folks you’ll find out here. If he says you’ll come to no harm, I believe him, and that’s as good as it gets in this place.”
Her faith in the man didn’t change my mind. “I don’t want to go with them. I want to go with you.”
Mab gave a soft laugh. “Oh, no. That is not happening. Like I said, Wooten is a bit wild, but they should keep you safe from the undead until I can come back for you. I should return in a few weeks—”
“Weeks!” I shouted. “You said you would only be one week.”
Her face grew hard, and all at once I knew I had gone too far. She had come across me in a moment of complete vulnerability and instead of taking advantage of my situation, she showed me kindness. She barely knew me, yet offered to travel with me, even arranged care for me until she could return to escort me to the border. And how did I repay her? With whining and complaining and refusal to cooperate.
“Look little man,” she said, a growl creeping into her voice. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t know you from Adam’s housecat, and you certainly don’t know me. I went out on a limb for you, stranger, so try showing a little respect. Stretch is good folk. You’re lucky we came across him. Take his offer or leave it. You can twist in the breeze for all I care.”
That said, she shoved me to one side, snatched my bag from Lilly’s back, and tossed it to me with a strong heft. I barely caught it before it hit the ground.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said.
“You should be,” she said. Mab mounted her horse and stared down her nose at me. I looked up to her, hoping the contrition was as visible as the hot shame on my cheeks.
“Will you still…” I couldn’t ask the rest. I was too embarrassed.
She looked at me for a long, quiet moment, Lilly huffing and pawing impatiently at the ground the whole while. At length she said, “I meant to only be a week or so, but my circumstances have changed. I don’t know how long I will be now. If you’re still at Wooten when I return, I will escort you the rest of the way to the border. Deal?”
I nodded, grateful and groveling. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t thank me until you get to Wooten. You might consider cursing me after that.” Mab looked beyond me and raised her voice a touch as she said, “He’ll join you. Keep an eye on him for me.”
I turned to find Stretch and his companions enjoying the drama of my self-induced disgrace.
The tall man lifted his hat with a nod. “Sure will. Anything for you, darlin’.”
“Thanks, hon,” Mab said. Without another word to me, she clicked her tongue, setting her mare into motion.
And so I found myself in the company of three strangers on my way to the settlement of Wooten.
* * *
The first day’s travel to Wooten was filled with troubles and worries. My old issues returned; that of maintaining my image as a young boy instead of a young girl. Letting my guard down for my mentor, as well as our stay in Convergence, had thrown me out of practice. My toiletries became an immediate problem, though I explained my need for privacy away with my traditional tale of shyness. The worst of my charade came from hiding my recent surgery. Now that Mab had told Stretch my sad tale of wandering woe, I had to stick with the narrative of a negligent mentor. A recent surgical procedure—with fresh, pink, still-healing stitches—did not lend well to that narrative. I kept my pain to myself, which in turn kept me silent and introspective. A state Mab had requested of me anyways.
My silence wasn’t difficult to maintain, for as it turned out Dave and Stretch both were quite the chatterboxes. Each of them took it in turns to tell long and involved stories, accounts of burglaries and love conquests and the likes. They took great pains and delight in one upping each other, every tale more and more extravagant and boastful than the last. I suspected they were showing off for my sake. I didn’t mind. They were good speakers, and their mindless yammering helped to take my mind off other worries.
Namely, the continued glowers I received from Gerald. He didn’t pay me attention outright for the entire afternoon. No, he was far more subtle than the full five minutes he spent staring at me in the ruins of Convergence. He spent the journey cutting me sly glances and occasional glares. I would feel the palm of his eyes all over me, and turn in time to see him looking away.
Just as the sun set, Stretch announced we were ready to set up camp for the night. Each of us were to take it in turns as a lookout for a few hours, with the middle hours being mine since I was the new kid. We spread out our bedrolls and blankets while Dave built us a small cook fire and took the duties of chef for the night. One poorly heated pot of old beans later, our bellies were full and we sat around the campfire shooting the breeze.
“What’s your story?” Stretch said.
It took me a few moments of awkward silence and nervous glances to realize he was talking to me. “I don’t have a story.”
“Of course you do,” Dave said. “Everyone’s got a story.”
“Not me,” I said. I drew my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. Not a storyteller’s pose. I hoped it conveyed my dislike of telling personal tales.
“Maybe he doesn’t have a story,” Gerald said. “Maybe he’s got a secret instead?”
My heart fluttered at his words. What did he know?
“Sure he’s got a secret,” Stretch said. “Ain’t much a secret now though, since Mab shared it.”
I was beyond confused. I sat up straight with a jerk. “What did she tell you about me?”
Stretch chuckled. “Calm down, boy. She told me all about your late date with Boudreaux.” He winked.
I relaxed at the sound of his laugh. Mab hadn’t shared my real secret. Of course she hadn’t! She didn’t even know it. I needed to stop being so paranoid. Mr. Theo once told me paranoia made secrets hard to keep. I had to calm down.
“The Frenchman?” Dave said. He turned to me. “You were supposed to meet up with him or something?”
“Yeah,” Stretch said. “Seems the bastard stood up our Sammy here.”
“Boy you dodged that bullet,” Dave said.
“Sure did,” Stretch said.
I hadn’t only dodged the proverbial bullet they spoke of; Mr. Theo planted that bullet square in Boudreaux’s evil heart. Still, I needed to feign ignorance to keep up my tale of abandoned woe. “I spent almost a week wandering this place on my own. I don’t call that dodging anything.”
“Trust me,” Dave said. “Spending a whole month running around this shithole on your own would’ve been a lot better then what that man had planned for you.”
Cocking my head, I asked, “What did he have planned?”
Dave looked to Stretch, who gave his head a quick, curt shake.
“He had a habit of getting his hired hands killed,” Stretch said.
“You mean killing his hired hands,” Dave said.
“Dave,” Stretch said in a warning tone.
“What? He’s gone now. Ain’t like he’s gonna come and git me for badmouthing him. Besides it’s true.”
“Ain’t true no more,” Gerald said. “Now that he’s gone.”
“Good riddance,” Stretch said.
“Yeah,” Dave said. “Jackson really stuck it to him.”
“He sure did. And that to that bastard, Dillon.”
; Dave spat in the fire, setting off a soft sizzle. “Good for Jackson. Good for anyone who gets one over on Dillon.”
“Who is Dillon?” I said.
Stretch and Dave shared another laugh at this. Gerald snorted and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
“Who is Dillon?” Dave said in a gentle mocking tone. “Boy you ain’t from around here, are you?”
“Dillon is bad news,” Stretch said, reaching out with a long arm to and pat me on the shoulder. “He isn’t the kind of roughneck you want to get mixed up with. That’s all you need to know.”
“If you’re lucky,” Dave said, “you’ll get back across the border before you can find out who he is.”
“He might just be lucky enough. He spent a week out in the open by himself and survived. And it sure was good luck running into Mab. I didn’t think I’d see her again.”
Dave gave a sly grin. “You mean you didn’t think you’ve get your hands on her again.”
“Aww, shucks,” Stretch said, a light heat rising to his cheeks as he thought about Mab. “It ain’t like that between us. I respect her and all that sweet stuff.”
“Sure ya do. Respect the sight of her frilly undies.” Dave broke into a raucous laughter, elbowing me the whole while. “Know what I mean, Sam?
I turned nearly as pink as Stretch. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What I’m talkin’ about?” Dave huffed. “Come on, young’un. You had your hands all over that body of hers. I’ll bet you could barely keep from poking her in the back by the time your ride was done!” He laughed again, Stretch joining him this time.
Gerald even smiled at my discomfort.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, sure, she’s pretty and all…”
“Pretty?” Stretch said. “Son, I ain’t seen a proper woman in a long time, and even I know Mab is more than just pretty. That is one fine woman. Now, come on, tell us if you put your hands where it counted when you were on the back of that mare.”
“I bet ya did,” Dave said. “I bet you cupped her puppies and she slapped you silly.”
My mouth fell open in shock. Regardless of all of my time spent in the company of rough and tumble men, I had never been to spoken directly in this capacity. In other words, I had never been addressed as one of the boys in a sexual way. Sure, I had heard my share of bawdy talk in the bordello, some from customers and some from the other girls. This, somehow, was different. Mab had been so kind to me. So generous. To hear her reduced to an object like that, well, I think it called to my past, and how I felt when men treated me in the same manner.
It made me angry.
“You see here,” I said, raising my trembling finger at the laughing men. “Maribel was good and kind to me. She didn’t know me from Adam’s housecat, but she showed me nothing but respect and generosity. I tried to show her the same. I won’t sit idly by and listen to you slander her with such, such, loose language.”
By the end of my speech, the men had all went silent. Three pairs of eyes stared at me in silence across the dying flames. We sat there in that awkward silence for a few heartbeats, until Stretch’s mile wide grin returned.
“Yup,” he said. “You grabbed her. Didn’t ya?”
Stretch and Dave started laughing again.
“Maybe he didn’t grab her,” Gerald said over their chortles. “Maybe he don’t know what to do with a women.”
That silenced the laughing men.
“Well darn,” Stretch said. “I never thought of it like that.” He nudged me. “Is that is? You never been with a gal?”
I looked to my lap as I folded in on myself again, unsure how to handle this situation. This brought on a series of nods and knowing winks from the men. The irony was, I probably had more experience in the bedroom then all of them combined. That information wasn’t something I planned on sharing, however. No matter how embarrassed I looked.
“I’ll be damned,” Dave said at my refusal to answer. “That’s a right shame, son. You need to get yourself back over the border, ’cause you ain’t never gonna remedy that condition out here. I mean we got us a woman at Wooten…” his words trailed away as he scratched his chin and thought about this. “Well, I say woman, but you gotta keep in mind what passes for a woman out in these parts.”
“Delilah will make a man out of ya,” Gerald said.
“She should,” Dave said. “She knows enough about what makes up a man.”
The three men guffawed together, enjoying my perceived innocence.
I wasn’t sure what to say. If I continued to keep quiet, they might’ve gotten suspicious. Such talk amongst men was only natural. I needed to engage the conversation, not avoid it. “Is Delilah pretty?”
“Oh, yeah,” Stretch said. “Delilah is a lovely gal. Just ignore the beard, and you should be fine.”
The men laughed once more.
“Facial hair on a woman is not all that uncommon,” I said. “I’ve known more than one woman with a beard.”
“Sure ya do,” Stretch said. “But did they have hairy dangly bits down below to match?”
This set all three men laughing again, and try as I might, I couldn’t help joining in. The conversation turned to more mundane topics after that, and I found myself growing comfortable in their company. Even Gerald seemed to leave me be, paying far less attention to me than even an hour before our embarrassing dialogue. In time I began yawning, stretched out by the dying embers, and soon enough I fell into an uneasy slumber.
Though my body slept, my mind went to a dark place, haunting my dreams with terrible visions. I dreamt I was back in the bordello, chained to my bed in the most literal sense. A thick, rusted shackle lay clamped about my ankle, attached to a long, fine silver chain. The chain led back to the bed, where it was wound around the post tight enough to cut into the wood and kept in place by a giant padlock. I tried picking the lock, breaking the chain, even tearing at the bedpost, but to no avail. I was stuck fast to my bed, and to my life in the brothel. I would never escape again. As I wept a river of hot tears, Mrs. Fathom announced my first client of the evening, and to my dismay it turned out to be Mr. Theo! He came to my bed chamber, hat in hand, repeating the same mantra he echoed the day I told him about my awful employment.
“You’re just a child,” he said, over and over.
I woke drenched in a film of sweat with Gerald shaking my arm.
“Wake up,” he said.
With a groan, I sat up and rubbed what little grit had gathered in my eyes. “Is it my turn to watch?”
“It’s your turn, all right,” Gerald answered. “Your turn to die.”
It was then I saw the flash of a blade in the moonlight. “What are you—” I started to say, but Gerald hushed me into silence.
“Quiet,” he said. He tossed me a small spade. “Get up and start walking. Don’t make a fuss, or I’ll cut your throat right here and be done with you.”
I gathered up the spade and got to my feet. I had no idea what direction I was supposed to go, so I just started walking. I don’t think Gerald cared where we went, as long as it was away from the others. Once we had some distance between us and the sleeping camp, Gerald called to me to stop. He lit a small lantern, grinning wickedly at me in the soft halo of light. In his right hand he held a hunting blade at least a foot long, if not longer.
“I know who you are,” he said as he turned the blade back and forth in his hand.
My blood turned to ice, slushing through my veins with a chilled dread. I swallowed the hard lump rising in my throat. “You do?”
“Sure. I thought I recognized you when I first saw you at Convergence. It took me long enough to place you but I knew if I kept thinkin’ on it I’d figure it out. It was the sex talk that did it. After that, I remembered just where I’d seen you before.”
He didn�
��t know me. He couldn’t know me. How did he know me? “Where have you—”
“Shut up!” he shouted over my question. “You don’t get to talk. All you get to do is dig.”
I looked down at the spade in my hands. “What?”
“You heard me. Dig.” He point to the ground between us with his impressive knife. “Can’t leave you laying around for Stretch to find, can I? Not when I tell him out how you ran off into the night by yourself, during your watch, leaving us all unguarded. Dig. Now.”
I got it then. He wanted me to dig my own grave. “Why should I? You’re obviously gonna kill me whether I dig a hole or not. Why should I make it easier for you?”
“You mistake me,” he said as he waved his blade at me. “I’m making this easier for you. If you don’t dig first, I will cut you up in a way that will make you bleed out real slow like. Then I’ll dig the hole and bury what is left of you alive. If you dig first, I’ll cut your throat and make it quick. Not painless, mind you, but quick.” He turned the blade to the dull side and made a swiping motion across his own throat. “Understand?”
I had to admit, it was a compelling argument. “Can I ask one thing?”
“No. Dig.”
“I just want to—”
“Dig!”
At his shout, I got to my knees and started stabbing at the dry dirt with the small shovel. The thing was no longer than my arm with a dull head about the width of my palms held side by side. This didn’t prove to be much help, and I ended up pawing at the dirt as much as I employed the tool. It was slow and tedious work, not to mention tiring. My wounds, though healing at a surprisingly rapid rate, began to ache after ten or so minutes of those repetitive movements; pushing the spade through the soil, gathering up a shovelful, then tossing it to one side. At the twenty minute mark, I had myself a hole of about two or so feet deep and three feet wide and couldn’t dig another bit. My shaking legs gave out from under me and I collapsed onto the side of the hole, using the ledge as a seat for a few moments as I tried to catch my breath.