by J. L. Jarvis
Maggie and Jake walked along together, finishing their ice cream as they reached her house.
“Homestead?”
“It’s a good job.”
“Homestead, Pennsylvania?”
“Unless you’d rather homestead in Oklahoma Territory.”
“It’s the union, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s the union. Without the union we’re work beasts. They don’t see—they don’t want to see—that we’re men and women, with minds and hearts. And it’s the sweat from our brows that makes them prosper. Oh, Maggie, the union can change the face of American industry, and we can be part of it!”
His eyes flashed with passion for his convictions. The sight of it filled her with awe.
“When?”
“Next week. Come with me, Maggie.”
“It’s so sudden. Who will marry us on such short notice? And where? We can’t just up and go! There are arrangements to be made—”
Jake pulled Maggie into his arms, held her face softly, and kissed her to silence.
“Forget all of that and just answer my question. Will you come with me as my wife?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then it’s settled.”
He kissed her until she forgot what she’d wanted to say, which, for Maggie, was quite a long time. Arrangements be damned. His arms were about her.
Later, they sat on the porch and watched the rain fall as their future unfolded before them. It was a hard, drenching rain, but Maggie and Jake didn’t care. They were safe and dry in each other’s arms. Rain could fall. It wouldn't touch them.
“Have you lost your minds?” asked Andrew.
Samuel lifted Allison down from the buggy and said, “It’s the only way.”
Andrew shook his head and could only stare back at the pair, stunned.
“We love each other,” said Allison.
Andrew leaned his hand on the buggy and looked down, trying to absorb it. He said, “You can’t just run away.”
“We have to,” said Samuel.
Allison gripped Samuel’s hand. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Andrew was silent for a long time. He looked at them with caution and concern for what would lie ahead for them all.
Allison’s voice was soft. “Please try to understand.”
“Whether I understand doesn’t matter. You’ve set yourselves on a painful course.”
“I love your sister. I would never hurt her.”
Andrew’s eyes were heavy with sorrow. “Just by being together you hurt her.”
“You’re wrong,” Allison protested.
Andrew said, “You’re my sister. And, Samuel, you’re like a brother. But her people will not accept you—not like this—and your people will not accept her. Is it even legal for you to get married?”
“Not here. But I’ve heard of some going to Canada to marry and live, legally and peacefully,” said Samuel.
“That’s all we want. But we need you to help us,” Allison pled.
Andrew looked at her, then at Samuel. If his parents learned that he’d helped them, he’d pay. But he’d already lost Maggie. He could not condemn Allison to the same miserable fate. She had lived through one loveless marriage. How could he condemn her to two? For if she stayed here, she would fall under pressure to marry Powell. As much as he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew Powell wouldn't make her happy. He didn't believe Samuel would, either, but he knew Samuel would love her. He shook his head. “It seems I’ve lost my mind, too.”
Allison threw her arms about Andrew’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. Samuel grasped Andrew’s hand firmly and thanked him. He explained that he’d draw up power of attorney papers so Andrew could liquidate his holdings. They both knew Allison had none. Andrew would then wire the money to them when they reached their destination. They would leave the buggy at the train station, where Andrew would retrieve it before anyone missed it. Above all, he would need to keep their confidence. No one could know where they were going. Later, when they were settled, they would send an explanation, and keep Andrew’s name out of it.
With the plan in place, Andrew went into the house. He poured himself a tall glass of imported Scotch whisky, and slumped down into a Morris chair. At least Allison would find some measure of happiness. Seeing Maggie at the parade had been like losing her all over again. For it to be raining now was fitting and right. A dismal rainstorm matched his mood perfectly.
Allison’s eyes follow Andrew until he was out of sight.
Seeing her, Samuel said, “In time, he’ll understand.”
“I know.” But she didn't know. She hoped. She looked at Samuel. How weary he looked.
“You’re a good man, and he knows it.”
“You’re the best part of me.”
Allison put her willowy arms around him. Like the willow, she had bent under pressure of powerful elements about her, but she had not been broken. She would stand with Samuel and face the wind. If it blew, she would lean, but only to him and never to breaking.
Samuel said, “You’ll be lonely without your family.”
She looked into his eyes, warm and comforting, resting beneath a troubled brow. “Not as lonely as I’d be without you.”
He, too, felt the weight of conflicting emotions. But he was sure that he loved her. He would not look back. He closed the carriage house door, and then scooped Allison into his arms. He carried her to a bale of fresh hay, where she sat and watched as he spread out a blanket on a bed of loose hay. Taking her hand, he led her to the blanket. They kissed. Her arms tightened about him as he stretched himself over her. With murmurs of love, all their troubles dissolved. They were where they belonged.
“Get your hands off her!”
Samuel saw the pistol before he saw Powell. Cautiously, he arose and helped Allison to her feet.
“Powell, don’t,” she said softly.
“I said get your hands off her.”
“He’s my husband. We’re married.”
Powell scoffed. “You can’t be his wife. It’s against the law.”
Samuel slowly stood and spoke firmly. “We’re married in God’s eyes.”
“You can call it marriage, but I call it rape.”
Allison looked at the gun. “Powell, this isn’t like you.”
He pointed the gun at her. “You don’t belong here. It’s a crime against nature.”
Samuel tugged Allison behind him. “Damn it, man, don’t be an ass. Put the gun down.”
From behind him, Allison put her gentle palm on Samuel’s back, hoping to calm him.
Powell said, “Any so-called marriage you have is invalid. And you know what that makes you, my dear Allison?”
He stepped menacingly closer, spewing repugnant epithets. Allison let out a small gasp, which drew Powell’s attention. “Get over here, now,” he ordered her. She started to move. Powell looked toward her. Samuel held out his arm to prevent her. Allison threw a brooch off to the side. Powell turned toward the noise. In the instant that Powell was distracted, Samuel struck him in the jaw. He staggered and fell backward. Samuel lunged for the gun, but Powell was closer and snatched it away, and then pointed it at them.
Allison pleaded, “Just leave us alone.”
With his eyes locked on Powell, Samuel took Allison’s arm and guided her behind him. “Put the gun down. We’re going to leave now, and it will be over.” Still gripping Allison’s hand behind him, he pulled to urge her toward the door. They started to walk toward the door.
“You seem to forget who’s holding the gun here,” said Powell.
The two lovers stopped as Powell slowly moved toward them. “Look at you—letting him paw you and sully you.” He looked her over with scorn, “You’re not his wife; you’re his whore.”
She stifled a gasp and tried to sound calm. “You’re upset. You don’t mean it.”
As Powell glared at Allison, Samuel lunged for Powell and wrestled him to the ground. Samuel said, “Allison, open
the door and get into the carriage!”
They grappled, but Samuel was stronger. He gripped Powell’s wrist and tried to get the gun from him while keeping it safely pointed away from Allison. Allison struggled to turn the horse and buggy around to face the doorway. The gun discharged, spooking the horse. It reared up. Samuel knocked the gun from Powell’s hand and rushed to Allison. He hooked his arm about her waist and pulled her to the side as the horse’s hooves landed where she had been standing. Powell was stunned. A bullet had grazed his head.
Samuel calmed the horse and climbed into the buggy. He took hold of the reins.
“Stop now or I’ll shoot her first.” Powell pointed the pistol at Allison.
Samuel lowered his hands.
“Get down, both of you.” Powell’s jaw was clenched, his eyes cold and hard. Blood trickled from the wound in his head and soaked into his shirt.
Allison looked at Samuel. He gave her a small nod. Eyeing Powell, they stepped down from the buggy.
Bitter contempt distorted Powell’s face as he spoke. “How could you defile Edmund’s memory like this?”
“Edmund’s gone, but I’m not. My life is my own to live.”
“Not without me.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Allison.
“You’re mine now.”
“By what right?” said Samuel.
“Edmund’s.”
Allison said, “He has no hold over me now.”
“I let him have you. But now it’s my turn.” Powell’s eyes had a frightening light. “I let him marry you. I watched and I waited. But I’m done waiting.”
“You’re making no sense.” Allison tried to hide her growing fear.
Powell said, “I wanted you. I wanted you for my own. But Edmund refused to step aside. So we settled it with a card game. He won.”
“He won me? I’m not property to be won and conveyed like—” She stopped.
“Chattel,” said Samuel.
Powell’s voice broke in. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. Every time I looked at you, spoke with you—”
“I won’t listen to this.” Allison was repulsed.
“Edmund didn’t deserve you.”
“Edmund was your friend,” said Allison.
“He didn’t love you like I did.”
Stunned, Allison shook her head slowly.
Samuel clenched his jaw, knowing anything he said now would only inflame Powell.
“I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Warn him?” Allison eyed him with dread.
“To leave you. But he wouldn’t.” A peculiar composure came over Powell.
Sickening horror crept through her. “Powell, what have you done?”
“It was his own fault. He left me no choice.”
“You visited daily—hired the nurses. Your concern for his health—his medication—” The dark gleam in Powell’s eyes chilled her. “No.”
“I had to.” His face grew pained and desperate.
She reached for Samuel’s hand, and he gripped it.
“Powell, you’ve got to let go. Leave us alone,” Allison pled in soft and cautious tones.
“I can’t,” he said with a voice almost kind, but his eyes were vacant. “I can’t leave you alone with a rapist.”
“He’s my husband. No court would convict him of rape.”
“Yes, it would, with my testimony. Especially if you were too ill to testify.”
“If you dare touch her,” said Samuel. He started to lunge at Powell, but Powell suddenly pointed the gun at Allison. Samuel froze.
Powell snapped, “Get up in the loft.”
He grabbed a length of rope and followed them up the ladder.
“Over there—by the edge,” he said, pointing with his gun.
He tossed the rope to Samuel, and then hooked his arm around Allison’s neck, with the gun to her head.
“Tie a noose. And if it doesn’t hold, I shoot her.”
Powell pressed the gun into Allison’s temple and waited for Samuel to tie the knot.
“Now swing it up over that rafter and secure it.”
He ordered Allison to climb up to the loft and tie Samuel’s wrists together. He followed behind as she mounted the ladder. At the top, her foot caught on her skirt and she stumbled. Samuel flinched, wanting to help her. She took the rope and went to Samuel. Lifting her panicked eyes to meet his, their eyes locked as they tried to speak their full hearts with one look. Trembling fingers tied the rope to his wrists. Powell pushed her to the floor, and then finished tightening the knot himself.
He dragged Allison to her feet and held her once more by the neck. “No one will keep us apart. Edmund tried. But he’s gone now.”
“How could you?”
“You find a man’s weakness, and he’ll practically do the job for you.”
“What kind of monster are you?” she gasped.
“By the end, he was begging me to put him out of his misery.” Mad eyes flashed at Samuel. “But you’ll be easy.” He gestured with the gunpoint. “Put the rope around your neck.” Then he went on, “No one will fault me, after I tell them what you did to her. Poor dear, she’ll have gone mad from it—unable to testify. It’ll just be my word.”
Pausing to savor his victory, Powell brushed his lips against Allison’s cheek. Bile rose to her throat as he encircled her waist from behind and pulled her against him.
“No.” She struggled in his arms, but he held fast.
Powell pulled her toward Samuel, who stood at the edge of the loft, his hands tied.
He drawled, “Look, Allison honey. We just need to give him one little push, and then we’ll be together.”
She struggled to pull his arm from her neck. He was too strong. Then she pounded her fist against his groin. He grunted and loosened his grip on her neck. Allison pulled free, and Samuel kicked Powell. He fell to the edge of the loft. The gun flew from his hands and landed on the ground below. Powell rolled away from the edge and began to get up, but Samuel kicked him again. Samuel worked to free his hands from the ropes that bound him, but they were too tight. Allison pulled the noose off of his neck just before Powell swatted her with the back of his hand. She was thrown to the floor of the loft. Powell landed a punch and pinned Samuel to the floor with a chokehold around the neck. Gasping for air, Samuel’s hands were behind him, still bound. He fought with his legs and shoulders. With a butt to the head, he managed to get free and rise to his feet. Enraged, Powell lunged at him, grabbing his ankles to throw him off balance. Samuel swayed for an instant, then fell from the loft to the ground below.
Powell turned toward Allison. The movement stole her attention from Samuel’s fall. Her blood raced. Her eyes darted. The gun, where was it? And then she recalled. It has fallen. Still staring at Powell, she inched a foot back, then the other. She had to get to the ladder. But he took hold of her hair and pulled her face inches from his.
“It’s over now, Allison.” His lips parted to kiss her, but she kicked his leg and clawed at his face and his raw head wound. He let go by reflex and cursed her as she ran toward the ladder. He put himself in her path. There was no way around him. She looked wildly about and spied a pitchfork by the wall. Just when she’d reached it, Powell caught hold of her skirt and pulled, dragging her down. She rolled over and pointed the pitchfork at him. Deftly, he kicked it loose from her hands and it fell to her side. Before she could retrieve it, he was on her, holding her wrists. Fear raced through her. She was pinned down, unable to move.
“I had a fine honeymoon planned, but this is just too convenient.” He looked down, taking her in with a sickening hunger. Straddling her, he leaned down to kiss her.
With a thud, he fell limply on her, and then arose—lifted by the collar. Samuel tossed him to the side and pointed the pistol at him.
Still eyeing Powell, he reached down and took Allison’s hand, pulling her to her feet.
His eyes darted to her. “Are you hurt?”
�
�No, I’m—”
Powell stirred to find Samuel, gun pointed at him. Powell said, “Don’t shoot me.”
“You don’t deserve to be shot. I think hanging would do.”
Powell’s eyes widened, as he shook his head.
“Go stand at the edge of the loft. You know the place.”
“Wait. We could work something out.”
“Put the rope around your neck.”
“No.”
“Do it!” Samuel yelled as he thrust the gun toward Powell.
Powell stared, pleading, at Allison. She looked right back at him with a blank face.
“Turn around.”
Samuel handed the gun to Allison, while he tied Powell’s hands and put the noose around his neck. Then he secured the rope to the loft. As he did, Powell took a sudden step toward Allison. She flinched and the gun discharged. Samuel whirled around and rushed to Allison. The shot struck Powell’s shoulder and threw him off balance. He fell from the loft. The rope tightened around his neck as he kicked his feet spasmodically. Allison watched numbly. The kicking began to subside. Then he fell.
Samuel gripped the knife he had used to cut the rope.
“Why?” Allison asked, her face blank with shock.
“We’re better than that.”
Allison looked at him, vaguely comprehending but unable to move. Samuel took the gun carefully from her, and cupped her face in his hands. “Allison, listen to me. We’ve got to leave now.”
He led her down the ladder and into the carriage. Lightning flashed as they drove out into the storm. The rain had nearly washed the road away, but Samuel steeled himself for the journey and urged the horses onward. Pelted by rain, they reached the dam only to be stopped by a crew of workers who were laboring to raise the level of the dam, against the rising lake. They yelled in Italian and motioned them back.
Allison grabbed Samuel’s arm. “Look! Behind us!”
Powell was chasing on horseback.
Samuel urged the horse on across the dam, through the mud. Just past the halfway point, the front wheels sank and were hopelessly bogged down in the muck. Powell was closing the distance between them.
