by Jeff Mann
“Nice and cozy in here. Smells good too,” George says, snuffling the air. “Looks like we’re just in time for supper.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“The big one’s strong as an ox, and the little one’s fast, with a nasty set of fists. Dave, keep covering them with that pistol, and Will, you tie ’em tight.”
George shucks off his greatcoat and takes a seat at the kitchen table. Selecting a slice of ham, he gnaws greedily. “Use lots of rope. I don’t want them wriggling loose before I’m done with them.”
“You’re the newest member of this band, son. I don’t know why you’re the one giving orders,” the man in the drover growls. He waves the pistol at us. “You two get over there by the fire.”
Reluctantly, we sidle out of the kitchen’s confines. The black-bearded man George addressed as Dave gives me a hard shove as we pass. “Get on with you, boy.” Losing my balance, I fall to my knees.
Drew pulls me up. “Don’t hurt him,” he snarls at the two armed men, “or you’ll regret it.”
“Shut up, you fucking Yankee,” says the brown-bearded man called Will. Leaning his rifle against the wall, he pulls lengths of rope from his greatcoat’s pocket. “You think you’re in any position to threaten us? You’re about to get what your kind deserves.”
“That bluecoat never knew when to keep silent.” George sniggers, chewing ham. “Did that nigger woman cook this? It’s very tasty. I think we’ll take it with us when we go.”
Dave strides over and presses the pistol against Drew’s temple. “You going to keep still now, right, boy?”
Drew closes his eyes and nods.
I stand helplessly watching as Will jerks Drew’s arms behind him and binds his wrists together. He uses yards of rope, clearly determined to leave my big Yank no chance for escape. Drew grunts with discomfort, his teeth set, his face flushed. He stares at me, then at Dave’s shiny pistol. His blue eyes are full of the same feeling that floods me. No, God, no. Don’t let us be parted like this.
Finished binding Drew, Will shoves him across the room and down into the love seat. “Your turn, little man,” he says, moving to me. “Scrawny as you are, I can’t imagine that you’d pose much of a threat, but George does know you better’n me.”
Seizing my arms, Will wrenches them behind my back. Despite my determination to retain a stoic façade, I whimper as sharp pain jolts through my shoulder-joints. Soon, yards of rough rope wrap my wrists. Will pulls and knots the length so tightly it cuts into my flesh. By the time he’s done, the cord’s layered several inches thick, from my thumbs nearly to my elbows.
“There you go, George.” Will tugs hard on my bonds, testing them, then grabs my arm and drags me toward the love seat, pushing me down beside Drew. “All trussed up for you. Neither one of ’em’s liable to get loose now.”
“A dream come true. Yes indeed. About damn time I found you two.” George plucks a slice of potato from the serving dish and nibbles it. “Got some nice fried taters over here, boys, and smells like there’s something sweet in the oven. Whyn’t you tie the prisoners’ feet? Then you can lay down your arms and join me at table.”
“Sounds like a fine plan to me,” says Dave. “I’m so goddamn hungry I could eat a mule’s balls. Rope their feet, Will.”
From his greatcoat’s pocket, Will pulls more rope. Bending, he ties Drew’s feet together. In a few minutes, having secured Drew, he does the same to me, once more pulling the rope so tight it makes my ankles ache.
“There,” says Will. “Let’s eat.”
“Hell, yes,” says Dave, holstering his pistol. Both men pull off their coats and join George at the table.
Drew stares at me. His blue eyes are wild, his big chest heaving. He licks his lips and then, leaning forward, glares at George. In the firelight I can see his hands working frantically behind his back, fingers clawing at knots, wrists twisting around in an attempt to wiggle free.
“You came for me, I guess. Leave Ian out of this.”
“I came for both of you, Yank. You’re going to share the same fate. Been following you for quite a few days.”
George forks up another slice of ham, then doles out fried potatoes among the three plates. Dave takes a hearty swig from Tessa’s bottle of whiskey, grunts with approval, and passes it around. Will gobbles potatoes as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks, then rises and opens the oven. “Goddamn, look at this dessert.” Grinning, he pulls the bread pudding out with a bunched towel.
Behind my back, I begin trying to work free as well. Damn, so tight. “We thought you were dead, George.”
“Yep, I counted on that. You never thought a ghost would suddenly materialize high up this valley looking for his revenge. Give over that bottle, Will.”
“How’d you find us?” Already my hands are going numb.
“The good preacher at Eagle Rock was kind enough to tell us you’d been through town. And we got quite an earful from a lady who runs that hotel in New Castle. I always suspected you boys were unnatural, so sweet on each other. Turning on your own kin, your own country, Ian, all for a piece of Yankee ass? I always thought you were a miserable little runt—you certainly didn’t deserve to have a fine man like Sarge to favor you—but this…just disgusting.”
“Where’s Miss Tessa?” Drew snarls. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”
“The nigger woman?” George sniggers. He takes a long draw from the whiskey bottle. “I knew y’all were whoremongers—holding company with Jeremiah’s slut in Lexington. Then we hear that y’all are indecent sodomites. Now I find you two cohabiting with a nigger. Sodomites or nigger lovers, which is worse, boys?”
“Sodomites,” says Will in between bites. He seems to be far more interested in the victuals than the conversation. “Sodomites. Christ!” He spits on the floor before taking a big bite of ham.
“Sodomites,” says Dave. “Against nature, against God. At least nigger women you can fuck when you ain’t got nothing better. Sodomites, that’s another matter. They deserve to hang. We gonna hang ’em, ain’t we?”
George smiles contentedly. He takes another long swig from the bottle. “We’ll see.”
Drew and I exchange quick sideways glances of alarm. His head droops. Inside the glorious bush of his golden beard, his lower lip quivers. “Oh, no,” he whispers.
“You didn’t answer D-Drew’s question,” I say, trying not to imagine such an ignominious end but failing completely. The sudden drop, the sudden jerk about the windpipe, the cracking of neck-bone, the sudden departure of breath… Soldiers deserve a more dignified end than hanging, but if there’s anything wartime’s taught me, it’s that death is rarely just or timely and that few men get to choose their ends. “What did you do to Tessa?”
George belches, wipes grease from his mouth, and sits back, the picture of satisfaction. “We caught her in the stable, knocked her out, and locked her in the woodshed.”
Dave sniggers. “Great big tits. I might have to treat her to a visit before we leave tomorrow.”
George makes a face. “You’re welcome to it. She gave us some trouble. That darkie’s strong. Her damn dog bit me, so I kicked it in the head. That’s a mighty fine stallion she’s got out there. Or is that yours?”
“That’s hers,” I lie. Maybe George is less likely to include Walt Solomon in his implementation of vengeance if he thinks Tessa owns the horse.
“I don’t believe you. The New Castle folks said you all rode out on a horse.”
“It slipped its tether the night after we left New Castle,” says Drew. “We’ve walked since then.”
“Well, don’t matter. We’ll take that pretty mount with us when we leave tomorrow.”
“And what do you plan to do with us?” Drew grits his teeth and tugs at his wrist-bonds. “You going to hang us like your buddy said?”
“What d’you think? We’re going to give you what you deserve. Thanks to you two, I was captured by Yanks after that bombardment at Purgatory, after y’all made your escape. It
’s time to even the score.”
“A prisoner of war, huh? Too bad you didn’t stay that way. Guess you found out some of what I suffered then.” Drew smirks.
“Yes, I did.” George glowers at us, fingering a loose tooth. “The bastards roughed me up some. Go ahead and smile, Yank. Pretty soon you won’t be smiling no more.”
“How’d you escape?” I ask. “You always were as cunning as a weasel.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Ah, the Yanks are so goddamn confident at this point in the war, especially up and down the Valley, that they only posted one guard. The second night I was there, I’d bashed his head in with a rock and got out of that guardhouse. Child’s play for an old veteran like me. Even stole me a Yank’s gelding. I fell in with these gentlemen soon thereafter. They agreed to help me track you two down. Y’all got a lot to pay for. My imprisonment. Sarge’s death.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. “So he is dead then.”
“Yes! He is! Thanks to you. I helped pull what was left of him out of the crater that shell left. I helped bury him before those fucking Feds led me off. He was your kin, and you murdered him.” George spits on the floor, then takes a slug of liquor, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing, as if trying to rid himself of a foul taste. “Ain’t many men lower’n you, Ian Campbell. A kin-killer, a nigger-lover, a sodomite. Christ, you’re hell-bound for sure.”
“I never meant for Sarge to die.” No tears, dammit. I won’t give George the pleasure of glimpsing my guilt.
“Well, thanks to you, he died nonetheless. Dish out that dessert, Dave. And bring over that sweet sauce a’bubbling atop the stove.”
“Stop bossing me around, damn you.” Dave grouses but obeys.
“George, what about the rest of the band? Who survived the bombardment? Did anyone else—?”
“To hell with them. They’re all gone now. And why should you care? You and your big sweetheart here abandoned us. Shut up, Ian. You always had too much to say. I’m getting the last word this time.”
“We’ll see about that,” Drew mutters beneath his breath.
For a while, our captors ignore us, focusing on their food. They devour big bowls of bread pudding. George tips back the bottle of whiskey, finishes it, then lobs it against the wall. The sound of its shattering makes both Drew and me jump. Next they noisily gobble second helpings of dessert. When Will produces a flask, they start into that. Every now and then, George stares at us and gives us a sharp-toothed grin. He’s growing drunker and drunker. I recognize the signs: the flushed face, the glazed eyes, the loose movements. That fact fills me with dread. Drew and I both well know how much George’s cruelty increases with drink.
While the men carouse, argue about their route tomorrow, and discuss the site of their next raid, Drew and I sit side by side, hunched over by the tightness of our bonds, releasing occasional grunts of deep discomfort. Drew struggles, quietly but steadily, against his wrist-ropes. I do the same. We watch our captors, waiting for what’s likely to come next. Exchanging words of encouragement and looks of caring are the only comforts within our reach now.
Drew gives me a weak smile, pressing a trembling thigh against mine. “God, I’m scared,” he whispers. “But I’ll be damned if I let those bastards see that.”
“You know how much George would relish our fear. Try to stay strong.”
Drew chews his lower lip. He shakes his head and glares at our captors, his beautiful eyes brimful of anger. “Fuckers. I’d regret it all my days—if I have any days left—if Tessa didn’t survive this. If she died because she was kind enough to shelter us.”
“Me too. But if Tessa can get out of the shed, maybe she can help us. That may be our only hope, Drew.”
“All our weapons are upstairs, right?”
“Yes. My fault. So stupid. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s my fault too,” Drew mutters. “This place seemed so remote, so far from the war. And to meet her! Someone like us. It made us feel so safe…”
“If I could just get my hands loose, maybe I could hop over and get hold of her rifle. She left it just inside the closet. It’s likely to be loaded.”
“Keep wiggling your hands, and I’ll do the same. Meanwhile, look…you know I love you, Ian. I really, really do. Best thing that ever happened to me was meeting you. If we can’t get loose, I just want to make sure that—”
My eyes grow moist. I shake my head and laugh softly. “Don’t be saying your goodbyes just yet, boy. Or you’ll make me cry. And George would really love that.” I muster a smile and nudge his shoulder with mine.
“Okay. I just wanted there to be no doubt…”
“I know. And you know how much I love you, right?”
Drew chuckles. “You’ve sacrificed just about everything for me. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for all you’ve done for me. Yeah, I know.”
“I don’t regret any of the things I’ve done for us to be together. I’d do it all again.”
Drew eyes our captors long enough to make sure they’re still occupied with each other, then gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. He wipes his wet eyes on my shoulder; I do the same on his.
“Guess I’m just a big ole sentimental sodomite.” Drew’s chuckle is sad.
“Lovers are always sentimental, buddy. Probably because we’re the ones with the most to lose.”
“That’s for damn sure. Guess that’s the price for feeling so much for someone. I’d rather lose everything else than lose you.”
“I feel the same. Well, we’re soldiers. We’ve both faced death many times. Don’t give up hope. Keep at it.”
We fall silent. Our captors keep drinking, their boisterousness slowing, then shifting into a drowsy ease. Determinedly, Drew and I keep working our wrists around.
“No luck,” Drew whispers after long moments. He exhales a deep sigh of frustration. “I’m tied too damn tight. I’ve barely shifted these ropes.”
“Same here, dammit. I—”
“Y’all are doing a lot of whispering over there, boys.” George voice is loud and triumphant. “Figured out how to get out of this yet?”
“Hell, they ain’t going nowhere. Not with all those knots I made. Not after all the calves I’ve hogtied. And castrated.” Will drops his fork on his plate with a clatter. “Best meal I’ve had since my Mommy’s back in Iron Gate. Boys, I’m beat. There’s bound to be a bed upstairs, and I’m ready for it. I’ve spent enough nights on the hard ground.”
“Not yet,” says George. “You boys need to help me with the prisoners, and then you all can retire.”
“Help you?” Dave groans. “With what? I’m wore out too.”
“In a minute, boys. Let’s us finish Will’s flask first, and chat a bit more with our friends here.”
“Did you say Iron Gate?” Drew lifts his head and scrutinizes them. “You the Iron Riders?”
“Yes, sir.” Dave gives us a proud grin. “You heard of us?”
“Yes,” Drew says. “Heard you were an evil bunch of ruffians who preyed on your own people.”
Will guffaws. “Our own people? We ain’t got any people, other than the few kin we have left. And each other.”
“I heard there were five of you. That’s what the hotel owner in New Castle said.”
“That one-legged man?” replies George. “Well, his wife was helpful, but he was less so. Not very hospitable. We evened him up, so to speak.”
“What?” Drew gasps. “You mean—?”
“Will here shattered his thigh with a ball when he wouldn’t put us up for the night. Then Dave got real friendly with his wife. Not that he needed to do that to get information on your all’s whereabouts from her. She was more’n eager to send us after you. I’m surprised, after what that lady said she saw, that she wasn’t blinded for life. I told you in that tavern in Buchanan that you were degraded and damned, Ian. An insult to the Creator. Which makes us, I suppose, God’s scourge.”
George stands and stretches. He
takes another swig from the flask, as does Dave, then Will.
“Yes, there were five of us. Till a few days ago.” George walks over to us, examines our bonds, then sits heavily in Tessa’s rocking chair. Pulling out his customary bag of tobacco, he crooks a finger and stuffs his cheek with a wad. “There was a trio of Yanks who’d been tracking us. Cavalrymen.”
Yawning, Dave scrapes his plate. “The lady at the hotel told me they’d come by looking for you all and chased you out of town.”
Will yawns as well. “We finished all three. A shoot-out along the creek, ’round Oriskany. The bastards got Harris and Clifton before we downed their mounts and they ended up all a’tangle in the dirt. We wanted them to beg for their lives, but they wouldn’t oblige. Brave men for Yanks. Then the big-built one with his arm in a sling got to cussing George, and so they all died right quick.” He shakes his head and frowns. “Hell, poor ole Harris and I were planning to raise tobacco together once the war was over.”
“Will and I got those fine blue greatcoats off them,” George adds. “Yanks always have such nice clothes. Too bad the third coat was too bloody for you, Dave.”
“I don’t want to wear any fucking Union blue.” Dave stands. “So, George, what’s this favor you need? Let’s get it over with, goddamn it. I’m ready for bed.”
“I’m tired too.” George rises, chewing. “So, Yank, you asked me earlier what we were going to do with you two. I said we were going to give y’all what you deserve. I was being general. Let me be more specific. There’s an ole apple tree out back of this house, right near that shed where we got that darkie locked up. Come morning, after a nice breakfast of more ham, and eggs, if this nigger lady has any, we’re going to hang you both from the branches of that tree. Thing I can’t figure out is who dies first. Do I want to watch Ian’s face while you kick and gasp and shit yourself, or do I want to watch your face while he does the same?” George rubs his chin. “I think you go first, Yank. I know how much Ian here has risked for you. His expression while you die will be priceless.”