Fallen Daughters: A Dark Romance

by Alta Hensley

  “All right then,” Birdie said as she stood and grabbed her plate to assist in cleaning up. “I best be going. Pa is going to wake up with one helluva headache, and he’s going to need me.”

  Anna Mae slammed her fist on the table, causing Birdie to almost drop her plate. “Girl, you put that plate down and sit.”

  Birdie did as she asked, not even hesitating. She didn’t know Anna Mae well, but she knew her enough to know she could be an ornery old lady if she wanted to be.

  “I don’t think you should be returning to your pa anytime soon.”

  “Oh, but I have to.” Panic started setting in. “If I don’t get there before he wakes up…”

  “He’s a mean son of a bitch, and I think you need to stay away from him.”

  “But he’s my pa.”

  “He ain’t no Pa. He’s just a man that has done you wrong. You don’t deserve it.”

  Birdie shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the ground. “I can’t just leave him like my ma did. What would happen to him?”

  “How often does he beat you?”

  “He doesn’t beat me, just corrects.”

  The actual answer to Anna Mae’s question was whenever he drank, which was pretty much every day. Just some beatings were worse than others. A lucky night would be a quick slap to the face. An unlucky night? Well, let’s just say that Birdie may have faced death square in the eye a time or two.

  “And if you expect me to believe that, then you are a fool. Nothing wrong with correction, but beating a woman ain’t right. And if I remember, he beat you from the time you came out of your mama’s belly.”

  Birdie swallowed the lump in her throat and swiped at the loose tear that escaped her eye. “We all have our demons. Mine being my pa.”

  Anna Mae let out a loud sigh. “Birdie girl, you need to grow some wings. There are times that a woman has to make some decisions in life. She has to think of herself. You going back to your pa is thinking about him and no one else.”

  “But it’s my home. He’s all I have.”

  “Well that’s just it. That’s what Rem and I were talking about. We were thinking you could stay here as long as you want—”

  “Oh no! I could never,” Birdie interrupted, standing up and rushing toward the door. “I really need to go.”

  “Wait! At least take a pair of shoes of mine. I don’t want you losing one of those toes after all the work we did last night to save them.” Anna Mae got up and walked to her room, returning shortly with a pair of faded black boots in her hands.

  Birdie studied the boots and then looked into the eyes of the kind-hearted woman. Attempting to walk out the door without the boots on would be futile, this much she knew. “All right. But I want to pay you back for them. I will do odd jobs or anything you like. And even if you say no, I will find the money somewhere.”

  Anna Mae responded by holding out the boots. “Put them on. They may be too big, but they will keep your feet protected.”

  Birdie grabbed them and walked over to the chair and started unlacing them. Noticing they had no holes and still had a solid sole, Birdie realized she was putting on the nicest pair of shoes she had ever worn.

  “Thank you. Your and Rem’s kindness will never be forgotten.”

  “I want you to know that my door is always open. No more shelter in the woods, ya hear? If I get wind that you camp in that forest another night, I’ll sic Rem on your hide. Clear?”

  Birdie nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Saying the words, she knew it was a promise she would most likely have to break. This was just the way her life was. She had come to terms with that a long time ago.

  “And, Birdie,” she said as Birdie slowly opened the front door. “Don’t give no man the power to break your soul. Not even your pa.”

  Birdie offered a weak smile. “Please tell Rem thank you for me. I won’t ever forget your kindness.”

  16

  “Birdie! Girl, is that you?” The booming voice echoed off the bark of the pine trees, reverberating in the isolated woods of the Bluebell homestead.

  “Yes, Pa. I’m here,” Birdie called as she ran into the shack they called home. Breathless from running the whole way home, but also from being afraid that he may have been looking for her all morning and was spittin’ mad. “I was just trying to do some morning hunting.”

  “I don’t like you going out there. There’s Injuns that will scalp ya,” he slurred. “It happened to your Uncle Isaac. They show no mercy.” He groaned as he got off the ground where he must have passed out the night before and stumbled his way to an almost empty bottle of booze. Smiling at the discovery that a few drops still remained, he quickly downed the brown firewater. He collapsed in an old chair that appeared to wobble beneath his weight. And since her pa was a skinny man, the fact that the chair looked as if it might collapse was pretty telling of its condition. “And you know,” he added as he tossed the empty bottle to the ground, joining the others that scattered along the one room shack they called home. “You’re still alive for several minutes once they scalp you. Just long enough to know that you no longer have the top of your head, staring in the eyes of the Injun as he screams out his war cry.”

  Birdie just nodded, careful not to get him going on one of his rants, and went about picking up the discarded bottles. It was best to stay out of his way when he was like this. He wasn’t quite drunk, but he wasn’t sober either.

  “Where did you get that dress? And those boots? You stealing?”

  Her heart stopped. If he found out that she stayed with the Langstons, all hell would break loose. “No, sir. I found the dress.” She picked up some more trash to steady her nerves and come up with an answer that wouldn’t have him beating her to death. “Mama must have left them. I found them in an old box out back.”

  No surprise that he didn’t ask her about her busted lip or black eye. He never apologized, nor cared how he treated her. It was their way of life. He—and she—didn’t know any different.

  Birdie’s answer must have been good enough, because her pa stood and made his way over to a pile of blankets in the corner of the room. There was an old ragged curtain hanging that could offer some privacy, but he didn’t bother to pull it around where he slept. Too much effort for a man who didn’t care. “I’m getting some shut eye. Tonight your Uncle Abe is coming. He’s bringing Jeremiah.”

  Hearing of an ‘uncle’ coming was never news. It happened more nights than not. And these evenings always turned into a full drunken night, which usually left Birdie running off and hiding somewhere. Only rule of Jedson’s was to bring plenty of booze and something to eat, and these ‘uncles’ had a place to stay. Birdie hated most of them. But she liked Abe’s son, Jeremiah. He was a little older than her, and had always been nice. They were only children then, but she could tell Jeremiah was different somehow.

  When Abe and her pa began drinking and swearing, Jeremiah always took her by the hand and led her deep into the woods. He never tried anything and was nothing but a gentleman. Birdie didn’t have friends, but if she did, Jeremiah was the closest it came to having one. She hadn’t seen him or his father in several years, and hearing they were visiting actually made Birdie a little happy. She just hoped Jeremiah hadn’t turned into a drunk like his pa.

  “I will try to find some food for supper then,” Birdie said, wanting desperately to leave the room that often felt like a jail cell.

  “No need. It so happens that Jeremiah has done good. Word is that he found gold in them mines in Virginia City. He’s even got a claim somewhere along the Feather River. Uncle Abe gots himself a boy with money now.” He collapsed on the blankets and kicked off his boots. “They don’t be needing our charity. But you best be nice. That Jeremiah could be our ticket. Go on and chop some firewood. I need to sleep.”

  Birdie let out the breath she had been holding. She didn’t have to be told more than once to leave that God-forsaken, dark, spider-infested, mud-caked hole that unfortunately was their house. At least outside,
Birdie could breathe fresh air and feel some sense of normalcy.

  Chopping wood was much easier now that she had some food in her belly. Lifting the ax didn’t feel as if it took every last ounce of strength. And having Anna Mae’s old boots on, sure did help with her traction. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her time with the Langstons. They were good people, far too good for a Bluebell, but they had welcomed her with open arms and did right by her. She wouldn’t forget that, and made an internal vow to do the same for them.

  The day passed quickly with Birdie completing what chores were possible to do around the homestead. They didn’t have any livestock and no garden to tend, so other than the chopping of wood and basic tidying up, she had a fairly easy load compared to most. But regardless, her body ached when she finally stacked the last piece of wood up against the wall of the house.

  “Well lookee here! Is that little girl Bluebell?” The deep voice, followed by a whistle, caused her to jump. She turned to see ‘Uncle’ Abe and a much older Jeremiah emerging from the woods.

  She waved and plastered the fakest smile she could muster. Even though she didn’t have anything against either one of them, the sight of them carrying a large burlap sack slung over both of their shoulders, let her know that a night of drinking was about to commence. Glancing at the clear sky, at least gave her a small sense of relief—she wouldn’t be out in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm again.

  She ran to the door and cracked it open, but not wanting to go inside. “Pa! Uncle Abe and Jeremiah are here.” Pa didn’t like being woken up, but he wouldn’t want to be surprised either. It was a lose lose situation for Birdie, so staying outside, out of harm’s way, was her best option.

  She turned to find Uncle Abe and Jeremiah building a fire in the fire pit that sat a few feet away from the front door, like they had done many times before. Their ease and comfort helped settle Birdie’s nerves. None of the visitors entered the shack—not that Birdie blamed them—but rather sat around a roaring fire drinking and telling tales into the late evening. Even though her pa was meaner than the devil to her, he could charm the pants off anyone when he wanted to. Something about her pa kept the visitors flowing.

  “Come over here and give your Uncle Abe a kiss.” Abe reached out his arms with a big toothless grin.

  Birdie didn’t hesitate and did as he asked, kissing him gently on his cheek. The smell of stale booze, body odor, and leather quickened her pulse. The dread of what would come of the evening weighed heavy on her, but she didn’t want to show her fear.

  “Now go over there and give Jeremiah a kiss.”

  Feeling her face heat up, she simply obeyed, but never once made eye contact with Jeremiah. Standing on her tiptoes, she quickly kissed his cheek, noticing that unlike his father, he didn’t smell of anything foul. Quite the opposite.

  “Better watch your hands, boy,” her pa slurred as he stumbled out of the shack. “My Birdie comes with a mighty high dowry.” Both he and Abe laughed loudly. “But from what I hear, you can afford her.” Their laughter continued, but Birdie noticed that Jeremiah was not laughing but simply staring at Birdie.

  Jeremiah cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. My mines sure have been lucky.” Jeremiah never looked away from Birdie, causing her to avert her eyes toward her new boots to avoid his stare. “I was hoping, if you don’t mind, that I could take Birdie for a walk to the mercantile in Boca for some peppermint candy.”

  Birdie looked up to his face quickly and smiled. She had never had peppermint candy before, nor anyone offering to buy it for her. Realizing that by smiling, her pa might want to steal away her happiness, she washed any sign of excitement away and just waited anxiously for her pa’s response.

  “I don’t see why not,” was his simple reply as Abe handed him a bottle of whiskey, distracting him of all else. “You kids be good.”

  Birdie didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind, so she darted toward the woods, hearing Jeremiah close behind. As soon as they were out of sight, she turned to him. “Thank you for the offer, and I appreciate you getting me out of there, but you don’t have to buy me any candy.” She smiled as she released the breath she had been holding.

  Jeremiah returned her smile and said, “I’m a man of my word, and I told your pa I was buying you some peppermint candy.” He reached for her hand and placed it on the crook of his arm. “Come on.”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes before Birdie couldn’t take the silence any longer. “That’s wonderful news about your mines.”

  “Yes, I guess you can say that.”

  “So what are you doing here? If you don’t mind me asking? Shouldn’t you be overseeing your mines?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “I have some dealings that need to be handled.” He took a deep breath and released it in a rush. “I’m just going to tell it like it is, Birdie.” Jeremiah stopped them from walking and turned her so she was facing him. “Your and my pa have gotten themselves in a heap of trouble.”

  “I don’t understand.” Birdie couldn’t possibly fathom what her father could have done.

  “Your pa is not a good man. He’s always been involved in some shady dealings, swindling poor fools by selling land and mines that don’t exist. But he and my pa went too far this time. They sold some fake plots to the wrong men. Bad men who won’t stop at taking their revenge.”

  “You have got to be mistaken.” Birdie shook her head in confusion. It’s not that she thought her father a moral man, but he remained piss drunk the majority of his waking hours. “How? I don’t—”

  “I’m taking my father to San Francisco to try to get this mess cleared up. I’m hoping that my money can make it right. But I can’t buy a man’s pride back, and our fathers have stolen the pride from some ruthless killers. My father is a son of a bitch, but I don’t want to see him dead.”

  Birdie’s head swam, trying to make sense of what was being said.

  “We felt it a courtesy to tell your pa he is a dead man unless he makes good on this.” Jeremiah reached out and lightly touched the split in her lip. “But if you ask me, your bastard of a father deserves what’s coming to him.”

  Birdie pulled away and glared. “Don’t say that! How am I supposed to know you are even telling the truth? My father doesn’t even leave home. How could he have done something like this?”

  Jeremiah reached out for her hand and held it within his. “They come to him, Birdie. Surely you see this. Your pa runs quite the operation, and it’s finally caught up with him.” He paused for a moment before adding, “The thing is, these people he swindled are mean as the worst outlaw you can imagine. I worry for you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t put it past them to hurt you to seek revenge on your pa—right before they kill him that is.”

  Jeremiah placed her hand back on his arm and continued to lead them through the forest towards town. Birdie could do nothing more than allow him to guide her since the news stunned her senseless.

  “I would take you with me to San Francisco if I thought that would keep you safe, but I fear that is just walking you into further danger. I may be able to clean this up for both of our fathers, but I have no way of knowing that. And then there is the discussion of marriage.”

  Birdie froze. “Marriage?”

  Jeremiah pulled her gently, urging her to continue walking as they spoke. “Yes, marriage. I can’t in good faith allow you to live this life anymore. As a boy, I had to just sit back and watch helplessly, but now I’m in a position where I can change that. Your pa is a mean son of a bitch, and I would like nothing more than to see him rot. But I refuse to know I left a helpless woman behind at his mercy once again.”

  “But you barely know me. We haven’t seen each other in years. We don’t love each other.”

  Jeremiah chuckled. “This proposal would not be one out of love, Birdie.” He laughed a little harder. “My interests don’t lean toward the…female attraction. I thought you knew this.”

&
nbsp; “What?” Birdie had no idea what he was talking about.

  Jeremiah took a deep breath to control his laughing. “My heart belongs to another. But my lead foreman, Wyatt, does not make proper marriage material.” He smiled and winked at her when Birdie looked up at him in shock.

  “A man?” she barely squeaked out.

  “So marriage provides you an escape from your father, his abuse, and this forsaken life you lead. And it provides me a proper wife to satisfy society. Your father won’t argue since I will help pay off these men in return for leaving you alone forever. A winning business deal for all.”

  “You want to marry me? When?” This all seemed like a dream.

  “Yes. I plan on leaving for San Francisco on the next train. Then when this mess is cleared up, I will come back for you, marry you, and we will head to Virginia City and make a fine home.”

  Birdie shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

  “I know this is all overwhelming, and maybe this isn’t what you had in mind for a marriage. But it’s either this, or watching your father be murdered…that is if they don’t kill you first. And even if your pa gets himself out of this mess, I can’t leave you to live like this anymore. If these men don’t kill you, it is just a matter of time until your father does.”

  Birdie pulled away again and shook her head. Maybe if she could shake it hard enough, all this information would just go away. “I really should go back and check on pa. If I’m gone too long—”

  “He’ll beat you. Hurt you. Make you bleed.” Jeremiah grasped her arm, hard this time. “I will not allow you to return to that monster.”

  He was right. Her father was a monster, a fact that was pounded into her daily. “And where would you suggest I go?” She threw her hands in the air, losing her temper. “Last I checked, my options are limited.”

  “Have you no friends? No place to stay until I come for you?”