“Well, my dear, I don’t know how much I can do for you, but I do know that your young man is entitled to bail, as long as he has not been brought to trial as a horse thief. Can you afford to pay bail?” Netty quickly shook her head yes.
“I will do my best to find out how much it is. I suggest you round up the funds and meet me back here tomorrow. We will go to the sheriff together to post his bail. Once he is out of jail we can find a good lawyer and think about his defense.” Reverend Penny appeared to have recovered from the incident at the altar as he suddenly awarded her with a genuine snake oil salesman smile.
As Netty left the reverend’s sanctuary she felt his eyes boring into her from behind, his change in demeanor fostering a premonition, forcefully banished as she hurried home.
Chapter 8
Wil tried to roll over on his cramped metal bunk bed. He shared his dismal nondescript cell with two other men. His first cellmate stupidly tried to sell his homemade moonshine to a saloon owner already supplied by Robert Doyle’s men. He got a severe beating for his efforts and sixty days in jail. Wil wondered what they charged him with. The other man was new, moved suddenly into Wil’s cell the night before. The big ugly guy kept his silence, sitting on the edge of his bunk staring at Wil, unnerving him.
Wil constantly worried about Netty. He was convinced she was in danger. Why go to these lengths to frame him? And if Netty was in danger, so was Baby. It became clear to Wil, that Robert Doyle wanted the farm, finding it expedient to get Wil out of the way first. He wondered about Netty’s mental state. He should never have left her side. In the almost three weeks since his assault and Maggie’s murder, time passed as fast as a snail running a foot race. As of yet, no one bothered to take the time to inform him of the charges against him. He figured it must have something to do with the gold coins they found in his back pocket while they searched him after Doyle’s men dragged him to the local sheriff’s office. God only knows how the coins got there. He offered nothing when questioned about them. He did not doubt for an instant that Robert Doyle concocted a tidy fairy tale for the sheriff after he planted the coins in his pocket. Sadly, no one wanted to hear anything about Maggie’s murder. They just ignored him. He still cried whenever he thought about her. In his heart, he knew he bore the responsibility. He tormented himself with the knowledge that his poor judgment and immaturity led to her death and this cell, leaving Netty and Baby vulnerable. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Twenty one years old and sitting in jail with his life still waiting to be lived. His mama would be ashamed.
Underestimating Robert Doyle, the twisted and pernicious bastard, might cost them their lives. But how could they keep him in here forever? Sooner or later, he would figure out how to get a message to Netty. Maybe he could work something out with his bunkmate when he finished his sixty day sentence.
It was almost time for their dinner. Meals were the only time Wil felt close to Netty and Baby in this cheerless, oppressive lockup. He was reminded of Netty’s laughter, her lovely face, her worshiping trust as she stood in the kitchen cooking for him. And boy, everyone knew Netty could sure cook. It became the nicest part of his day as he reminisced about how they loved to linger over their tea, dreaming big about their plans for the farm, watching Baby wobble around, laughing at his antics before they retired to the bedroom to lie in each other’s arms, marveling about their chance meeting in the woods that led them to such complete contentment, even as they fumbled with the problems associated with their body’s changes. Fate is a wonderful thing.
Wil heard noise in the corridor, presumably the trays for dinner. The bailiff appeared at the door to his cell, opening it up with his noisy ring of keys. Surprisingly, he shouted for Wil’s bootlegging cellmate, ordering him to accompany him, refusing to disclose further information. Wil casually wondered at the significance of the unusual time chosen to remove his cellmate. The guards knew better than to come between a prisoner and his chow.
Wil’s cellmate never returned, nor did they get their dinner. Wondering what was up, Wil turned over in his bunk, lying flat to alleviate the constant ache in his lower back, his tail announcing its growth. Staring up at the drab grungy ceiling, he lost himself in his memories of Netty and Baby.
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Wil was so deep in thought that he failed to notice the bailiff quietly returning to silently slip something lethal and shiny to his remaining new cellmate. He also failed to notice his cellmate creep slowly over to his bunk, raising the arm that held a glittering butcher’s knife, bringing it down solidly on Wil’s arm, severing his hand below the wrist, quickly exiting through the cell door and clicking it shut behind him.
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As Wil fell out of his bunk, incomprehension overriding shock, he discovered his severed hand lying on the dirty cement floor. Stumbling to the cell door, he watched the blood stream out of his arm. Sliding down to the cold floor, he held his arm up, hoping to slow the gushing blood.
“Help, I need help. Bailiff … guard, please help, I need a doctor. It’s urgent. I’m bleeding. Help me.” Wil screamed for help for twenty minutes. No one came. As he slipped further down to the floor, he felt the darkness intrude into the edges of his vision. His thought process slowed, blood loss causing him to forget where he was, his arm, now down in his lap, cold and painless from shock.
He thought he could smell the warm organic odor of Netty’s barn. It must be time to saddle Maggie and turn out the Jerseys. Where was Baby? He couldn’t leave without his little buddy in the saddle.
He called for his mama, feeling the urgent need of her soothing hands and loving voice. Slipping into darkness, the last thing reflected in Wil’s dimming eyes was the unusual iridescent color of his blood as it finished spilling his life onto the cruddy concrete floor of his cell.
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Netty hurried home after leaving the Baptist Church. Relief and hope coursed through her body as she rejoiced over the fabulous solution Reverend Penny easily suggested. Now, all she had to do was find the money. Rushing home with the wagon she found Baby in the barn with his kittens.
“Baby, I thought I told you to not open the cabin door. It’s for your own safety.” Scooping Baby up under her arm, kitten and all, she ran to the front door of the cabin, finding it locked.
“Baby, how did you get out of the cabin if the door is still locked from the inside?” Walking around the back, she saw the opened bedroom window. “Well Baby, I guess this is the way we are going to have to get back in. I’m going to boost you up and you can go around front and let me in.” Auras sent pressure to her mind.
“Sister—my kitten.”
“Yes Baby, you can take your kitten with you.” Shaking her head with amusement, Netty helped Baby in the window and passed the kitten over the window sill. Going around to the front of the cabin she found Baby waiting for her. She realized Baby had given her the first laugh she mustered in weeks.
Dashing through the house looking for money, she happily explained to Baby that Wil would soon be home. Baby trailed behind her with his wobble and shuffle, dangling his kitten from his arm. Counting the money, she realized it might not be enough. Oh, no. They spent all of their savings on the new bakery. Think, think, think. She slapped herself on the head. Wait. Did she dare? Running into the bedroom, she dug to the bottom of the hope chest Wil made for her on the anniversary of their first year together. Ironically, one of Baby’s favorite hiding places. She kept digging down till she found it. Withdrawing her fingers, she held up the gold coin. The very one she stole from her husband before she ran from him over three years ago. It would finally do her some good.
Fixing a sketchy dinner for herself, although she found she could not eat a thing, she decided to give the cabin a good cleaning. Tomorrow will be a big day. Taking the money to Norristown, Reverend Penny planned to bail Wil out of jail. Counting on their return in a day or two, Netty hoped to celebrate with Wil and Baby before they found an attorney and settled in to resolve the problems with Robert. Cuddling in bed with Baby
(and his kitten, of course), she thought about their lost infant. She promised herself to take the time to visit the grave with Wil when he got home. Knowing they both enjoyed excellent health with youth on their side, she knew in time, they could try for a baby again. She finally had her first nightmare free sleep in weeks.
Rising early, Netty started for town with high expectations. She arrived at the Baptist Church shortly after morning service, finding Reverend Penny in his private office.
“Reverend, I have the money for Wil’s bail.” She breathlessly poured the coins out on the desk. Looking up, surprised by the reverend’s pained expression, she felt her stomach give an uncertain lurch.
“My dear, please sit down. I have some unfortunate news for you.” Holding tightly to her hands, he broke the news of Wil’s death. Found in his cell, he apparently managed to cut off his own hand on the rough metal supports of his bed, in an obvious attempt to take his own life.
Netty heard nothing but white noise after the word death. She sagged, dropping heavily to the floor, being held up by the grip Reverend Penny had on her hands. Her head swam. “Oh … no, no, no, no, God. Please, no.” She moaned as Reverend Penny dragged her to a chair, propping her up.
“I don’t believe you. I need to see Wil,” she suddenly screamed, hysteria now a frequent visitor.
“I’m afraid we might have another problem on our hands, Mrs. Doyle,” the reverend said releasing her hands. Netty did not respond. She could not make out anything further the reverend said. Her life just turned to cold ash. This could not possibly be true. Wil would never do such a thing. It had to be a lie. She rose slowly, gripping the side of the chair, her face devoid of color. She needed to be alone. Baby; she needed to get home to Baby. She stumbled unsteadily.
“Mrs. Doyle.” At the sound of her name, she tried to focus. Reverend Penny stood in front of her, a most pious look on his face, holding his hand outstretched to her. As she reached for his hand, she stared, letting her own float in the air aimlessly before dropping it to her side, her defeated continence a mask of despair and tragedy. For in the palm of his hand lay her gold coin. Looking into his face, her voice trembling, she asked, “Reverend Penny, what is the meaning of this?”
“Mrs. Doyle, why don’t you come with me to the sheriff’s office where we can straighten this out? Mr. Doyle himself took time from his precious schedule to come all this way to help us.” His grip felt like iron as he tried to ease her toward the door.
“Mr. Doyle?” Netty’s saliva stuck thickly in her throat.
“Yes, he is a great benefactor to the church. I thought it best to turn this delicate matter over to him. He usually rewards the church well for the efforts I make managing the congregation. You understand what I mean?” Netty tried to break Reverend Penny’s iron grip on her hand.
“Now … Mrs. Doyle. Why don’t you show me what a lady you are and come along?” The reverend started to sound exasperated. He snaked both of his arms around her as he relentlessly duck walked her to the door. Netty suddenly dropped to the ground, releasing his grip on her. She slipped out from under his arms, grabbed the gold coin and just ran.
Netty’s breath came in gasps as she jumped into her wagon and took off out of town. Robert is here. What will they do to her? Could they still arrest her? Like Wil? Oh my Lord, what had they done to him? She refused to believe he was dead until she saw for herself. She better plan to hide out somewhere, first.
She must get home quickly. Baby waited there. She could not run without him. Frantically, she wondered where they could hide. Nothing came to mind. Pitifully, the tears streamed down her face again; her mind so full of panic over Wil and Baby that her adrenalin almost incapacitated her. She drove the horse faster, bumping dangerously over the rutted road.
Netty finally made it to the cabin. She planned to pack food and clothes in the wagon, grabbing her Winchester and Baby last. She pulled the wagon right up to the stoop. Banging on the door, she screamed for Baby. As she slipped through the door she turned to close it, glancing toward the barn. She almost fainted at the sight of a dozen men streaming out of the barn toward the cabin. Among them she saw, none other than Robert, Eli, the sheriff, Mr. Simpson and the other thugs that worked for Robert.
She quickly locked the door, grabbing her Winchester. Her mind felt pressure, frantic colors swirling wildly in her mind.
“Sister, trouble comes.”
“Yes Baby, we are trapped.”
“Where is Brother, he will save us?” Netty choked back a sob, her trembling hands running spastically through her hair at her temples.
“No Baby, we must save ourselves.” Dashing into the bedroom, Netty spotted the window. She grasped at an idea. Instructing Baby to burrow under her clothes in the hope chest, she closed it tight. Shoving Robert’s gold coin down her pocket, she ran to the window and clambered out. She knew they would realize what she had done but at least it would decoy them away from Baby. Running toward the woods behind the cabin, she prayed to God to grant her enough strength to elude them long enough to get safely to her granite rock. The cavern beckoned; a perfect sanctuary. She knew if she carried Baby with her, she ran the risk of slowing herself down, exposing them to capture. Now, if they did catch her, at least Baby would be safe. After waiting them out, sneaking back to the cabin to collect Baby would solve everything for now. They could hide out at the cavern until she came up with a better plan. Actually, maybe hiding there indefinably might work out. She did not eat much anymore and Baby didn’t eat food anyway. Water was a small necessity she wanted to worry about later.
Netty made it to the wood line without being seen. She heard shouts coming from the direction of the cabin. They must have searched her bedroom by now and found the open window. She hoped to have a little more time. Plunging through bramble bushes, she felt them tear her skin. By the time she glanced down to her arms the scratches disappeared. Wow, she did not even need Baby to heal her now? Hope sprang up, lodged firmly in her throat as she ran on.
Trees whipped past, their swaying branches witness to her stumbling, her frantic wits trying desperately to hold her together. Sounds of shouting filtered through the woods like dappled sunlight through the trees. They sounded like they might be gaining on her. She tried to pick up her pace. Rounding a corner without watching her footing, she tripped on a rock and down she went, losing her grip on her Winchester. Damn. Where is the darn thing? Netty spotted it, victim to her untimely fall, lodged between two rocks. Tugging on it ineffectively, she found her strength deserting her. Precious time lost. Making the decision to leave it behind, she ran on. Her pace slowed as she located the pathway that ran along the hillside leading to the rock. She remembered years ago, pausing to rest here the night she discovered Baby. Stifling a sob, she thought about all the happiness he brought to her barren life; and to Wil’s. She pushed all thought of Wil away. She could not afford to cope with her heartbreak now.
Netty navigated the path until she came to her rock. Finally, she found a safe second to pause, forcing painful gulping sobs down her throat. Reaching into her pocket she withdrew the gold coin. Bitterly, she thought about the trouble her impulsive decision to steal it had rained down on her. Suddenly, flashing auras with their accompanying pressure assaulted her mind. She felt strangled cries. Baby, oh no.
“Sister, bad Brother. Bad Brother … bad Brother.”
Netty’s heart fell. Was Baby warning her or was he in danger himself. She slowly turned. It was Eli. He held her Winchester in his hands. Netty felt frozen to the rock. Only a few steps to freedom and it damnably eluded her.
“Where ya go’n, sweetie? Aint ya happy ta see me?” Leaping forward, he grabbed Netty’s pony tail, painfully yanking her back toward the trail. She stumbled and fell, hearing Eli curse her. Her hand reflexively opened, accidently releasing the gold coin. She could hear it as it bounced from rock to rock finally settling out of sight near the cairn marking the entrance to the cavern.
“Get yer ass movin’ now, N
etty gal. He’s not a patient man.” Netty saw the glee dancing in Eli’s eyes. She pulled herself to her feet, trying to keep up. She knew her chances of escape were now limited. As they neared the edge of the woods, they were joined by more of Robert’s men. Judging by the shouts and nasty laughter, she knew they were going to be looking for blood. By the time they cleared the woods, she was being dragged on the ground by three men, her tail bumping painfully over the rocks. Hauling her upright, she found herself back at the cabin in front of her barn, Baby thankfully, nowhere in sight. In front of her stood Robert, holding something wrapped in a handkerchief.
“Well, Netty it’s been a long time. I hear you have something of mine.” He glanced around to his men, a depraved grin on his spiteful face. “Well now, I just might have something of yours.” He released the handkerchief, allowing it to open before tossing it on the ground. Out rolled a human hand, stiff and gray, clearly severed from a human wrist. Netty could see the telltale signs of iridescent blood that soaked into the handkerchief. Soundlessly, she collapsed to the ground, her futile denials confirmed.
When she came out of her faint, Netty found her hands tied behind her back as she stood on the back of her very own wagon, her horse in his traces, prancing nervously. She felt something heavy around her neck. Looking up she saw a rope thrown over the cross support over her barn door. The very rope attached to the noose weighing down her neck.
“Don’t worry about the farm, Netty. I’ll take good care of it, just the way we did with your wop drifter.” Stepping closer to the wagon he gave her a wink. Netty strained, leaned over and spat in his face. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Robert shouted for the sheriff.
“Alright Sheriff, I have determined the honors will be yours.” As the sheriff approached, a loud bang came from the stoop of the cabin. It was Eli. He had one hand wrapped around Baby’s crown of crystal antlers, holding him high in the air. The other held Baby’s kitten by its neck.
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