A Captive in Time

by Sarah Dreher

  It can’t get much more interesting than this.

  The pig house roof collapsed. She wondered why she hadn’t heard Billy scream. Smoke inhalation, maybe. Unconscious.

  Oh, God, Billy.

  Not now. Think about it later. You have to save yourself.

  Save yourself. With the tines of a pitchfork digging into your neck and a crazy person on the other end.

  “Wouldn’t you like to hear my plans?” Parnell asked.

  “I suspect...” she choked “...you’ll let me in on them in time.”

  “First the fire. You’ll enjoy that. Hearing your flesh bubble. Smelling the odor of your cooking skin.” He smiled. “Human flesh smells like roasting oxen when it burns. Yours will smell like pig.”

  She was shaking down to the marrow of her bones.

  She shot her eyes right, then left. They were alone, in the dark. Dark except for the remains of the pig house, still flaming, reminding her that Billy was still somewhere inside.

  “But you will live a while. And watch me destroy your Master.”

  “My Master?”

  The man threw back his head and shook his finger at her. “I will set you free, Oh Slave of Satan.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me, setting me free.”

  “I will free your SOUL.”

  “Oh, that.” She twisted a little, to test his concentration on the pitchfork.

  He pressed harder into her neck. “Don’t try to trick me,” he growled. “It’ll be worse for you.”

  “Hey, just checking to be sure you had the situation under control.”

  Parnell laughed. “I’ll show you more control than even your Master.”

  “Listen, what’s all this ‘Master” stuff?”

  “The Devil,” Parnell sneered. “Satan, who even now writhes in agony in the flames.”

  He was talking about Billy. Billy? Satan?

  Billy?

  But Billy was gone, somewhere beneath that pile of charring wood.

  Billy was gone, and there was no one around to help her.

  The crazies win again.

  A flash of anger shot through her. “If you’re going to kill me, get on with it. Cut the fucking around.”

  He stared at her for a moment. Seemed to be considering… Made up his mind.

  “It’s time to begin,” he said smoothly.

  She closed her eyes.

  She felt the minute drawing-back movement of the pitchfork as he got ready to plunge.

  Waited.

  Nothing happened.

  She forced her eyes open.

  There was a sound of something cutting through air. A dull “thud”. The pitchfork flew from his hands. The torch rolled off into the darkness and set fire to a few blades of stubble.

  Billy stood in front of her, holding a length of lumber. She reached for Stoner’s hand.

  “I thought you were dead,” Stoner said.

  “I thought you were.”

  She looked at the man’s body. “Think he is?”

  “I doubt it,” Billy said. “I couldn’t manage to do in my father with a half-full whiskey jug.” She hefted the length of lumber. “This thing doesn’t have one quarter the weight.”

  Stoner checked the man’s position and calculated the direction of his fall in an instant. “Not bad. The Red Sox could use a good left-handed batter.”

  “What’s the Red Sox?”

  She looked back at Billy, and wanted to go on looking at her forever. She laughed. “How did you get out of there?”

  “Fire makes holes.” Billy looked down at their interlaced hands. “I think you just broke my ring finger.”

  “God,” Stoner said, and dropped her hand. “I’m really sorry.”

  Billy threw her arms around her. “I was only kidding. Stoner, I was so afraid for you.”

  “So was I. I thought you were dead.”

  ”I knew you weren’t. Too much talking out here for anyone to be dead.” She looked down at Parnell’s crumpled body. “You know what we really ought to do, don’t you? To be sure we’re safe?”

  Stoner nodded. “Kill him.”

  “You want to do it?”

  “Not particularly,” Stoner said. “Do you?

  “Not particularly.” Billy glanced up at her. “I think you should.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s your turn. I already killed one man. Or thought I did.”

  “So did I.”

  “But I did it more recently.”

  “I did it more successfully.”

  They both contemplated the heap of black clothes. The sky to the east was beginning to muddy with dawn. The fainter stars withdrew.

  Silence flowed in. Through the silence came a faint, muffled bang.

  “What’s that?” Billy asked.

  Stoner listened, and traced the sound from inside the barn. “Someone’s in there. Or something.”

  “Jeez. You don’t think there’s two of them, do you?”

  “Better check it out.” She looked around for a weapon, and found Billy’s gun where Parnell had dropped it. She picked it up. “If he wakes up, sock him again.”

  Billy took a firm left-hander’s grip on the lumber.

  Carefully, she pulled the barn door open a crack and peered inside. It was too dark to see, but there was the thumping sound again.

  Okay, what would Cagney and Lacey do in this case?

  She tightened both hands around the gun, took a deep breath, kicked open the door, and aimed straight-armed into the darkness. “Police! Freeze!”

  “Huh?” Billy said.

  Nothing attacked her from inside. She gave her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the deeper darkness, and stepped through the door.

  Caroline Parnell lay against the far wall, bound and gagged.

  Stoner ran to her. “Hang on,” she said as she tore at the ropes. “I’ll have you out in a minute.”

  “God bless you,” Caroline Parnell said when she could speak. “I was sure he was going to kill me.”

  “He probably was,” Stoner said. She helped the woman to her feet. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be all right in a minute.” Caroline leaned heavily on her shoulder. “Just let me catch my breath.”

  Stoner walked her around a little.

  “That dreadful man,” the woman said. “I can’t imagine what you think of me, marrying a dreadful man like that.”

  “Hey, it happens.”

  “Blue Mary tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen.” Caroline started to sob, a little hysterically, Stoner thought. “I was never very pretty, you see. He flattered me, then he took advantage of me.” She gave a great, heaving sob. “Oh, what’s-your-name...”

  “Stoner,” Stoner said. “Stoner McTavish.”

  “I’m so humiliated.”

  “Listen, you’re not the first. You should see some of the stuff that goes on on ‘Unsolved Mysteries’.” She smiled at the woman until Caroline was forced to smile back. “I’ll bet I could get you a gig on Geraldo.”

  Mrs. The Reverend Henry Parnell gawked at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. But at least she had gotten control of herself.

  “Hey, Stoner,” Billy called. “The Old Booger’s moving.”

  Stoner eased Caroline Parnell toward the door.

  They looked down at the twitching body.

  “Miz Parnell,” Billy said, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to kill your husband.”

  “That’s all right,” Caroline said distractedly. “Whatever you think best.”

  “It’s your gun,” Stoner said. “You do it.”

  Billy hesitated.

  Stoner hesitated.

  The man was beginning to get up.

  “One of us better do it,” Stoner said.

  They looked at each other.

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Caroline Parnell said. “I’ll do it.”

  “You don’t have to...” Billy began.

  The woman took the gun from St
oner’s hand. “Oh, yes, I do.” The woman’s face was tight and gray with hard anger. “I owe it to the town to. He’s a cruel, heartless individual.”

  “A little nuts, too, if you want my opinion,” Stoner said.

  Caroline Parnell turned to her. “My dear, you have no idea of the depths of this man’s depravity. The things he planned to do to you...” She shuddered. “I can’t even say them.”

  “That’s okay,” Stoner said quickly. “I don’t need to know.”

  The man was getting to his knees, gasping for breath, shaking his head back and forth in a confused, dog-like way.

  “You’d better leave,” Caroline Parnell said. “Take the wagon. It belongs to Mrs. Gillette, anyway. Tell her… tell her I’m sorry about the saloon.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Billy said.

  “I knew he was going to do it. I could have warned her. I hope she’ll forgive me.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Stoner said. She turned toward the wagon, then turned back. Parnell was trying to get to his feet, stumbling and falling in the dust. “He’s coming around. Maybe we should stay, just in case.”

  Caroline Parnell waved them away. “I have a few things to say to him first. But I need privacy.”

  They hesitated.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let him get away. I’ve come to my senses.”

  “Well, okay,” Stoner said. “Careful. He’s tricky.”

  The woman smiled in a frightening way. “I know all his tricks.”

  Billy was trotting toward the wagon. “Come on.”

  Stoner followed her. “Don’t you want your gun?”

  “Nah. Thinking of giving up my life of crime.” She hopped up into the wagon and took the reins. “Move it, mule.”

  Stoner swung up onto the seat beside her. “I don’t know what we’ll find back in Tabor. It was a mess when I left.”

  “Then we’d best make tracks.” Billy stood up and slapped the reins. “Hee-YAH!”

  The sky was fading to water color blue when they heard the shots at last, back on Parnell land.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  Cullum Johnson came into the parlor with his hat in his hands. “Ladies,” he mumbled.

  Cherry turned on him. “What do you want, white man?”

  May Chang put a calming hand on Cherry’s arm and turned to the bounty hunter. “She’s upset,” she said.

  Cullum nodded. “It’s all right.” He looked around uncomfortably. “I wonder if I might sit in here with you ladies while...” He gestured vaguely toward the store room. “I’d give them a hand, but it seems kind of personal.”

  “Of course,” May said.

  “No!” Cherry snapped. “You ought to be out looking for the person who did this.”

  Cullum shifted from one foot to the other. “Trouble is, everyone I talk to says the same thing. They think it’s that boy who worked for you.”

  “Billy?” Cherry looked hard at him. “Billy wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

  “I’m not saying he did, Ma’am. I’d like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

  Cherry sank into a chair and put her face in her hands . “Anybody in this town could have done it. They all think we’re trash.”

  “Even so,” Cullum said, “not everyone goes around setting fires. From what I’ve been hearing, these fires started not long after the boy arrived.”

  “Well, it’s a pack of lies,” Cherry said as May poured her a cup of tea. “And if that’s what you think, you can get on that horse of yours and ride back to wherever you came from.”

  “Miss Calhoun,” Cullum said in the softest, most respectful voice he could manage, “I don’t necessarily believe those stories.”

  “People in this town just can’t tolerate anyone who’s different, is all.”

  “Well,” he said, “that’s the way of the world, I’m afraid. Trouble is, I can’t seem to come up with a better explanation.”

  May came forward and steered him toward a chair. “Please, Mr. Johnson. We have to put everything out on the table, no matter how bad or improbable it looks. Then maybe we can reach the truth.” She turned to Cherry. “Are you willing to set your anger aside long enough to do that?”

  “All right,” Cherry grumbled. “But I’m telling you it isn’t Billy.”

  Johnson took the cup of tea May offered him. “Miss Calhoun, I know how you feel about the boy, but...” He cleared his throat, trying to make time to find the right words. “Well, I’ve been thinking it over, and… well, I’m not so sure he’s even a boy.”

  Cherry stared at him, and the color rose to her cheeks. “Of course he’s a boy. Just because he doesn’t act like some old puffed-up, cussing, tobacco-spitting, swaggering, mangy, stinking peacock, that doesn’t mean he’s not a boy.”

  “That’s true,” May Chang said. “In San Francisco, where I come from, there are men who aren’t like that at all.”

  “I agree with you ladies,” Johnson said, “and I hope I don’t fit Miss Calhoun’s description. But...” He paused to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief, and cursed the life that had brought him into this particular conversation. “Forgive me, but I have a hard time expressing myself.”

  “Perhaps,” May Chang said, “if would be better if you just spoke out.”

  He nodded to her gratefully. “You probably know why I’m here.”

  Cherry gave a snort. “Bounty hunter.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Not an admirable occupation, I know. But I have a certain talent for it, and not much for anything else.”

  “Well,” Cherry said grudgingly, “I guess I have to sympathize with that.”

  He took a deep breath and pushed on before he lost his nerve. “I was hired to find a young woman…”

  “A woman,” Cherry barked. “You’d track down a woman? Know what that makes you? The scum off a cess pool, that’s what it makes you.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Cullum said. “But this woman tried to kill her father. Succeeded, as far as she knows.”

  “What’s so awful about that?” Cherry demanded.

  “The father doesn’t quite see it that way. Anyhow, I’ve been following the trail for quite a few months now, and it leads here to Tabor. Now, the only person new in town… other than that strange English woman in the funny clothes… or whatever she is… is your boy Billy.”

  “And that makes him a father-killing woman?” Cherry said derisively. “First time I ever heard of hanging a person for being new in town.”

  Cullum took good tight hold on his temper. “He also,” he said firmly and evenly, “matches the description of the young lady in question, allowing for his clothes and short hair. Furthermore, I’ve watched him shoot a pistol, and from the looks of it, it doesn’t come naturally to him.”

  “I suppose you were born with a Colt .45 in your hand,” Cherry said. Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  Cullum Johnson sighed heavily and got up. “All right, ladies. I can see I’m not going to get much help here, so I’ll go back out on the street and see what I can pick up.”

  “Wait,” May said. “I have another suspect for you.”

  They both looked at her.

  “Your preacher.”

  Cherry burst out laughing. “The Old Booger? All that turkey knows how to do is shout Scripture and play with himself, not necessarily in that order.”

  “Listen to me,” May insisted. “I came here looking for the man who killed my father nearly two years ago. I recently received word through relatives that the man is here, and he’s the town preacher.”

  “That has to be a joke,” Cherry said, round-eyed.

  “No. He bragged about it to them himself. There’s no mistake.”

  “Why would he brag about murder?” Cherry said with a disbelieving snort.

  “He’s not afraid of Chinese. He knows he’s safe in the white man’s world.”

  “Well,” said Cherry, “that’s true, but it doesn’t count for beans in the Chinese community, I’ll bet.”

>   “Exactly,” May said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Cherry smiled a little for the first time. “You came to kill our preacher?”

  May nodded.

  “I’ll be damned,” Cherry said. “A girl after my own heart.”

  Cullum Johnson shook his head. “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.”

  “No doubt you are,” Cherry muttered.

  “I don’t know that he set your fire,” May went on. “Or, if he did, why he did it. But I do know the man isn’t in his right mind. Don’t you think it’s a possibility?”

  Cullum looked around the room, taking in the dimness, the heavy brocade curtains, the mingled odors of incense and laundry soap. Yeah, it was a possibility. A damn good possibility. But that still didn’t solve his problem about the boy—the girl, if the boy really was the girl—and he was just about certain of it. Logic and instinct both pointed that way. If he had really found the girl, and didn’t take her in, he’d be guilty of accepting money under false pretenses. Not all the money he’d been promised, of course, just the half he’d taken up front to cover his expenses. But stealing was stealing, and didn’t sit well with him.

  On the other hand, judging from the Calhoun woman’s reaction, he had a pretty good idea, if he took this girl back to Tennessee, he’d better forget about ever seeing Dot Gillette again. And he didn’t know if he could bear that.

  So there you are, old man, he thought. Caught between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. Not that Mrs. Gillette has given you the slightest reason to believe she has any feeling for you. But she could, in time. If you treated her real nice and didn’t make a nuisance of yourself. Maybe she could learn to like you just a little.

  And wouldn’t that make the long, cold winters feel like spring?

  They were looking at him, waiting for him to speak. “Yep,” he said, “it’s a possibility worth considering.”

  The curtains into the store room parted, and Dot looked in. “Cherry,” she said softly, “would you like to help dress her?”

  Cherry hesitated, the skin going pale beneath her olive complexion.

  “She looks fine,” Dot said. “Mary says you should see. It’ll help you remember the good times.”

  Cherry straightened her back, nodded solemnly, and left the room.

  Dot watched her go. “Poor kid,” she said. “Her heart’s broken.” She sat in a chair and accepted a cup of tea from May.