Nazareth

by Tony Masero

  ‘We’re about to take a swing in the weather,’ he heard Joab whisper. ‘That would be a good time.’

  ‘Obliged to you, Joab, I won’t forget.’

  ‘I ain’t a murderer, Mister LaBone. It’s just that Burk has me in hard debt, that’s why I had to come.’

  ‘Appreciate it,’ Billy Lee answered.

  ‘What you two whispering about?’ bawled Boulder, pulling himself upright.

  ‘Watch yourself! Sit back down!’ Joab cried urgently. ‘We’re coming about.’

  He swung the tiller and the boat heeled over, the sail boom swinging around catching the unsuspecting Boulder across the shoulder blades and knocking him face down into the well of the dory.

  Billy Lee tilted himself over with the lean of the boat and as he heard Crone bellow a query he allowed himself to drop over the side.

  Then all sound was lost as he plunged under the surface of the sea. In the solid blackness beneath the waves he fumbled desperately with the knife, working the blade two-handed against the ropes binding him to the chair. The knife was sharp and made from good steel and Billy Lee felt the tight ropes around his chest give way under his attack and the chair loosen its hold on him. He could see nothing and had no idea which way was up but the descending chair as it slid away gave him the clue and he kicked from it in the direction he hoped was upwards towards the surface. Still struggling to cut the bindings at his wrist, Billy Lee felt the tautness in his lungs closing in as the need for oxygen threatened.

  His kicking was of little use and he felt the pull of water dragging him down. All about him was sluggish darkness and an overwhelming sense of drift. He needed to breath and his lungs ached to suck in air. Billy Lee fought against the sensation struggling all the while with his bonds as nature took its hold and despite all his wriggling he slowly descended into even darker depths.

  He kicked desperately and fought with the knife, holding it awkwardly in his hands and tilted towards his wrists. He could feel the knife cutting his jacket sleeve and shirt and its sharp point slicing his flesh. At last the rope parted and desperately, Billy Lee lunged out using both hands to pull himself upward.

  The dark sea pressed against him, its turbulent force pushing like an unseen and invisible weight determined to keep him down. Bubbles of expended air rushed from Billy Lee’s mouth and he followed their silver passage as they streamed above him. He dug with spread fingers grasping at the almost tangible density of the salt rich liquid.

  Suddenly, he was breathing air as he broke surface.

  With a splash he erupted from the deep and sucked in gasping mouthfuls, the sound unheard amongst the movement of the waves.

  He floated, lying on his back and relishing his escape. Somewhere in the night he could hear shouting and he rolled over to see the light of a lantern some way off and figures in its glow as they searched over the side of the dory.

  ‘Got you, you sorry pair of bastards,’ Billy Lee grinned to himself.

  He looked towards the landward side but the waves flapped over him and blurred his vision and he felt the tug of the surface stream pulling at him. It was cold and Billy Lee knew he would not last long in the chill water. The light from the dory was falling away fast as the tide carried him further out and with a sinking heart he realized he was being swept away from land and into the waters of the deep ocean.

  It was a rip tide that held him and he floated like a rubber ball on the vicious current as it carried him swiftly out past the scattered lights of the fishing fleet. He hollered as loud as he could for help but his cries went unheard and nothing moved in his direction. The lights diminished and then the faint twinkle of Nazareth disappeared and all that was left was the flashing signal of the lighthouse. It was then that Billy Lee knew that he had escaped one certain death only to face another one.

  Chapter Three

  Minnie crouched in a corner of the empty rat-infested grain shed where they had thrown her. The little creatures scurried and rummaged boldly about, scattering wildly only when she thrust out a foot at them.

  Her mouth hurt her bad and she was sore between the legs from the brutal treatment handed out by Crone and Boulder. She had managed to swallow some water from a canteen they had left her. It had been a painful process but it done something to slake her raging thirst and at least take some of the thick iron taste of blood away.

  A chill wind leaked through the cracks in the bolted door and it carried the dank smell of the sea and the hint of rain on its breath. It was still dark outside on the cliff top and she wondered if all was quiet now in The Broken Wing. She crawled across and rattled the door but it was hopeless, there was a firm bolt fitted and a padlock holding it and she gave up and returned to the corner.

  She was dry of tears but in the darkness of her despair the desperate pity of her situation flooded up to fill her thoughts with resentment. No more singing, no bright words would ever leave her lips again only a strangled gargle that meant nothing to anybody. She gently touched her bruised lips with her fingers feeling the encrusted flakes of blood and the tender soreness of the swelling. Probing in her open mouth only caused greater pain and yet she struggled with an almost obscene curiosity to touch the stump of her missing tongue. It was unbelievable to her that a body could survive such an act, she here she lived, her brain worked and she was not about to surrender.

  Minnie understood the fate that awaited her, Crone had been only too pleased to fill her in on the details of all that awaited and how she was to be offered as a cut rate prize to any buck with a few dollars to spare. Burk’s vengeance was cruel and absolute and she wondered at her foolishness in tempting his anger. She had thought herself too immune she realized, much too full of herself to realize she could not control such an evil creature.

  But through it all Billy Lee had seemed more of the man for her. The attraction had been instantaneous and the temptation too great as she realized she could win him over. In her instinctive way she had known he had wanted her as much she had him. It had been good with him too, she had to admit it, not good enough to lose your tongue over but good all the same.

  She guessed Billy Lee was gone now, Burk would not have allowed him to survive such an insult to his personal manhood. It was a strange thing, she considered, how a few moments of pleasure could bring down the wrath of heaven so soundly.

  Idly she sharpened the strip of wood she had managed to lever from the old wooden door and rubbed it against the flagstone floor. It was a long pointed spike and her honing had brought the point at the end to a dangerous needle. Minnie intended to sell herself dearly to any ass that came in on her now. She had nothing left but survival and that was what she intended to do, to survive and stab the stake through the heart of James Burk if she could.

  The padlock rattled as a key was turned in the lock and then the bolt was drawn back and the door swung open.

  A figure loomed in the doorway.

  ‘Evening, girl,’ said the man.

  Instinctively, Minnie went to ask who he was but she had forgotten and the words would not come out other than unintelligible throaty hisses.

  ‘Yeah,’ said the man. ‘Not a word to offer now, have you, dearie? I’m the new boss around here, courtesy of Mister Burk. The name’s Cyrus Obedah and you’ll do as I tell you, or it’ll be the worse for you. Understand?’

  Minnie growled in reply, her hand grasping the sliver of wood tightly behind her back.

  ‘That’s it, I can tell we’ll get along fine.’

  Obedah stepped inside, allowing the door to bang shut as the wind caught it.

  ‘You shouldn’t have been such a naughty girl, now should you? Playing fast and loose with the hired help, it was bound to end in sorrow.’ His breath was rasping urgently and Minnie could smell the sweat on his body as he neared her. ‘But when I seen old Billy Lee taking his pleasure with you, why, I have to admit I was a tad jealous. You sure are a pretty little thing.’

  In that moment Minnie realized it was Obedah who had betra
yed them, the rat of a barkeep seeking to advance himself by informing on them. The hate rose in her.

  ‘Guess I get to sample the wares first off, huh?’ he said dropping to his knees before her. ‘Come along, Minnie, show me what you’ve got.’ He reached out a hand towards her and she could see the glint of his eyes and the show of his teeth in the gloom.

  It was a mighty blow she delivered. A blow full of all the pain she had suffered, of the humiliation and anger that filled her small frame. With a strangled cry she swept the sharpened stick up and plunged the pointed end into one of Obedah’s glittering eyes.

  He wailed a plaintive cry and clutched at his face as Minnie withdrew the wooden dagger and began in a frenzy to strike again and again at the silhouette before her. The face, the throat, the neck any part of the features that came into her wild aim. The ghastly sound coming from her lips joined with the screams that Obedah made and filled the small shed with their noise.

  Outside the wind howled over the cliff top and muffled the sounds. No one amongst the drinkers and whores inside The Broken Wing heard anything above the babble of their own voices and the rattle of whiskey glasses.

  Gingerly, Minnie pushed the door to the shed open. She glanced back once to see the ravaged and still body of Obedah, soaked with dark blood and spread-eagled dead on the floor.

  - That’s for Billy Lee, you dirty sonofabitch - she thought the words in her mind for she could no longer say them.

  Then with grim determination she turned her attention to The Broken Wing.

  There was no one about on the cliff top only five horses tied off at the hitching rail outside the saloon and Minnie did not hesitate. She left the cover of the storage sheds and went straight to the rail, unfastening each pony she quickly mounted the nearest and, with the reins for the others in her hand, she walked them all out of earshot.

  Once clear of the building, Minnie laid in her heels and with all the other ponies behind she raced off into the night. It was a wild ride and she took it following the coast road along the cliffs, she headed south in the direction of the town of Ellsworth but broke off once the small Narraguagus River barred her way and then she headed inland at the gallop. After a few hours riding she knew she needed a place to rest and gather herself and found it in a sheltered stand of trees beside a small lake. There she pulled up and dismounted.

  Tying up the ponies she threw off their saddles and busied herself going through each of the stolen saddlebags. A Winchester rifle was in the scabbard of one saddle; in another she found a gun belt and pistol. A third held clothes, a shirt and pants that she swiftly changed into, throwing aside her torn and bloodstained shift. It was cold and the woolen shirt and pants gave her some warmth and a sense of wellbeing once her body was covered. They were a mite large for her but she rolled up the pants legs over the lace-up boots she still wore and tucked the shirt in to keep the pants up.

  The gun belt was too large to go around her tiny waist so that she slung crosswise over her shoulder. There was no hat, but a large bandana sufficed bound around her head. Another poke held bread and cheese rolled in muslin and pounded to a pulp mixed with water from a canteen she managed to swallow some of it. Not an easy task without a tongue but hunger was a hard taskmaster and she managed it as she considered what to do next.

  They would come after her; there was no doubt of that. A wanted murderer now and Burk would put a good price on her head she was sure. She had to get as far away as possible. She thought of Augusta, a big town where she could get lost amongst the population but discarded it quickly as she considered a woman without a tongue would stand out even in such a dense crowd. No, first she must get some money and then go where no one would know her or care whether she had a tongue or not.

  Maybe far to the west, maybe even to the Frontier beyond the Missouri. They would not care that far away, lawmen were an entity found few and far between and the people too rough to worry what a body had done or care where she came from.

  She would get cash and equip herself and make the journey deeper into the country and away from the coast and all it represented. It would not be easy but she was hardened now, ready to do anything and woe betide anyone who tried to stop her.

  It was with that thought that she curled up and with one of the horse blankets thrown over her and a mackinaw beneath her on the bare ground, she slept an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

  Next morning and icy cold though it was, she stripped off and washed her aching body in the lake. Sluicing off the blood and taint of all she had suffered and painfully rinsing her wounded mouth. Looking at her reflection she could see that her cheeks and mouth looked a mess, they were still swollen and bruised an ugly purple. There was no way she could yet appear in public and so determined to head into the open country that lay before her. It was not too far to the mountains, she could make her way down the chain of the White Mountains, the country there was little populated and once out of Maine she reasoned she would be safer.

  Tying off the ponies in a string and taking only what she needed from the bags she left the saddles behind in a heaped pile. She knew feed was essential for the horses and had allowed them to crop the plentiful grass beside the lake but the sooner she was rid of them the better. Aside from one she used as a pack animal the rest followed on docilely enough as she set off.

  An adulteress, murderer and horse thief - Minnie laughed to herself at the thought, it had not taken very much for her to leave the straight and narrow and become a villain in the eyes of society. It was then that she decided she might just as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb and determined to brook no opposition in future. If anyone stood in her way they would rue the day, she might have lost her tongue but gained the will to speak in other ways and if it came to it, it would be from the mouth of a gun barrel.

  The sky was overcast and gray, the disc of the sun shining white through the cloud and by the time it was directly overhead Minnie came in side of an isolated settlement. It lay amongst the undulating hills of the mountain foothills in a green valley surrounded by pine on the hilltops above. She could hear the lonely call of whip-poor-will from amongst the trees and see signs of moose droppings on the ground as she approached through a waist high bed of ferns.

  A few simple buildings, wood-built with canted tiled rooftops and the longest house had a porch the length of the building with an outhouse attached at one end. Smoke was coming from the chimney and Minnie sat her pony and considered her options. She needed supplies desperately and knew she would have to take a chance at some time soon, what better time than now?

  The decision made, she urged the train of horses on.

  People came out onto the porch, hands shading their eyes as they tried to identify their visitor. Minnie could make out two men and a woman on the porch. One of the men went inside and came out with a shotgun; he held the weapon broken open over his arm as he walked down the hillside to approach her.

  He was a tall fellow dressed in open necked shirt and suspenders. He wore a drooping mustache on his face and a floppily brimmed high crowned hat on his head. To Minnie he had all the attributes of a hick farmer.

  ‘Hello there!’ he called in a strongly accented voice. ‘Can I help you, please?’

  Minnie pulled up before and realized this was where communication became her first priority. She waved a hand in front of her mouth.

  ‘You are hurt?’ the man asked, seeing her damaged face. ‘You cannot speak?’

  She nodded affirmation.

  ‘Come,’ he said, waving her in. ‘Come to the house.’

  The strong accent sounded Germanic to Minnie and she reckoned these people must be some of the so-called Palatines that were beginning to emigrate from Southern Germany and come over in large numbers just now.

  ‘Come,’ he repeated. ‘You come, are welcome.’

  He seemed genuine enough to her and she followed his lead up to the house. The woman smiled at her warmly and the man introduced her as his wife and the other fellow as some
kind of hired help called Freddie. He told her his name was Hans and that she was to come in and eat with them.

  The hired man Freddie, came forward as she dismounted, bowing politely, he took the reins and indicated he would take the horses to a corral out back of the house.

  It seemed that the others had almost no English and that only Hans had any understanding of the language as he did all the talking. She was seated at a table and the wife busily began to lay bread and coffee on the table before her. Minnie indicated that she could not eat the new baked and crusty bread and the woman clucked sympathetically and brought a jug of milk to the table.

  ‘What is happened?’ asked Hans, taking a seat opposite and pointing at her face. ‘Is this wild Indians that have done this to you?’

  Minnie nodded, thinking it the simplest solution to any protracted explanation.

  ‘Verdamnt!’ spat Hans. ‘The beasts, I am most sorry. But where do you go? A woman all alone in the country, this is impossible surely?’

  Minnie thought quickly and brought out a bill of sale and stub of pencil she had found in the saddlebags and began to scribble a reply on the blank back of the sheet.

  ‘Ah!’ cried Hans reading the note. ‘You go to sell these horses but this is wonderful. We have need of horses, as you can see we set up a trading post here. We will deliver mail with these horses, mail and goods.’ Proudly he indicated the shelves around the room that sported a variety of foodstuffs in sacks, jars and tins. ‘You will sell them to us?’

  Quickly, Minnie wrote out her selling price at sixty dollars a head and that she needed some supplies offset against the bill.

  ‘Yah,’ agreed Hans. ‘This we can do. Cornmeal, beans, sugar, flour and eggs. Soap we have too. Maybe fifty cents for all these things.’

  It all sounded remarkable fair to Minnie and they settled on a final price of two hundred dollars for the four horses which suited Minnie fine.

  ‘How are you called, Mistress? May I ask?’ asked Hans.