The Going Back Portal

by Connie Lacy

  The second ladleful I drank more slowly, leaving some to pour into my hand, so I could wipe it over my face and neck.

  “Any chance I could have something to eat?” I asked, handing the ladle back.

  He pulled a small parcel from his pocket, unwrapping a hunk of bread. He handed it to me and returned to his desk.

  Once I consumed the hard bread and regained a bit of strength, I begged him to set me free.

  “I wasn’t trying to bribe you. I just want to help Amadahy because Jonah gets meaner and meaner, and I’m worried about her safety.”

  He didn’t bother to reply.

  A short time later, he put his hat on again and started for the door.

  “You’re not leaving me here alone for the night, are you?” I cried.

  “Yup.”

  “But at least let me use the bathroom!”

  He pointed to the far corner of my cell and walked out, locking the door behind him.

  Turning toward the back wall, I noticed what had once been a white bowl, rather large with a lip around the top, and now stained a muddy color. Not only was there no electricity, there was also no indoor plumbing. I remembered hearing Nana talk about using a chamber pot when she was a child and realized that’s what I was looking at.

  ~

  When the sun rose the next morning, I was sitting on the hard bed, propped against the wall. The air in the room had finally cooled enough so I could breathe. But real sleep had eluded me, what with the heat and the mosquitoes buzzing my ears. Another modern luxury I took completely for granted – window screens.

  While I waited for the sheriff, I tried to keep my mind from focusing on the insistent hunger pangs in my belly.

  When he moseyed through the front door, he greeted me like I was a guest staying at his Airbnb.

  “Morning, Miz Murray. Hope you slept all right.”

  “Unfortunately, my roommates kept me awake.”

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  “Mosquitoes,” I said.

  He snickered under his breath as he brought me the ladle.

  After I chugged the water and asked for more, I got right to the point.

  “When will you let me out of here?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” he said, returning the ladle to its hook. “The judge won’t be here for another two weeks.”

  “Two weeks!”

  “He’s riding the circuit.”

  “I can’t sit here in this jail cell that long!”

  “Reckon you don’t have any say-so in the matter.”

  My hands tightened on the bars. “Sheriff Moon, I’m pretty sure you’ve got better things to do than deal with me.”

  He sat down in his chair but didn’t reply.

  “I’m thinking you could consider that gold nugget as payment of my fine,” I said. “You know, the one you dropped in your pocket?”

  He gave me a quick glance out of the corner of his eye as he opened a desk drawer.

  “Wouldn’t paying a fine make more sense?” I said. “Much better than taxpayers having to foot the bill to keep me locked up, don’t you think?”

  He pulled a piece of paper from the drawer, setting it on the desktop.

  “Much better than you having to turn the gold over to that judge when he shows up.”

  “One thing’s for sure,” he said. “You talk more than any woman I ever met. Except maybe my wife.”

  With that, he stood and retrieved his hat.

  “I’m really hungry,” I said.

  “Well,” he said, turning as he tapped the hat onto his head, “you better hope that slave girl brings you some food.”

  Thankfully, Ginny arrived mid-morning, a bundle under her arm. Moments later, the sheriff returned. He let her in so she could bring me the dried fish and bread wrapped in a small piece of cloth.

  “What’s your name, girl?” the sheriff asked her.

  “Ginny.”

  “Who’s your master?”

  “Jonah Barnes.”

  “Ginny, I want you to go tell Mr. Barnes there’s a woman in my jail who says her name is Kathryn Murray.”

  “Yessir.”

  22

  When I heard the scrape of heavy boots that afternoon and Jonah filled the doorway, my trip to 1840 suddenly felt like a suicide mission.

  “You acquainted with this woman?” the sheriff said.

  “I am.”

  “I arrested her for trying to bribe me.”

  “Bribe you?”

  “She wanted me to investigate a murder.”

  The menace in Jonah’s eyes sent a chill down my spine. While the sheriff didn’t specify whose murder, it was pretty clear who he was talking about.

  “She says she’s kin to your wife,” the sheriff said.

  Causing Jonah to examine me with fresh eyes.

  “Anyhow,” the sheriff continued, never saying a word about the gold piece in his pocket, “I decided to let her go. Too much trouble keeping her for the judge.”

  He unlocked the cell door, swinging it open, and gestured for me to come out.

  “Mr. Barnes can take you home to your cousin,” he said.

  He acted like he was doing me a favor instead of feeding me to a pit viper. He had to know he was putting me in danger, so there was no point appealing to his sense of decency. Then again, if he didn’t release me to Jonah, he might not release me for who knows how long. At least this way, there was a slight chance of escape. Assuming Jonah didn’t kill me first.

  “Good luck, Miz Murray,” the sheriff said as Jonah escorted me through the door.

  As soon as we were outside, he gripped my arm more firmly, correctly assuming I’d make a break for it first chance I got. I acted like it didn’t bother me, not making any effort to pull away. I have to admit when he hoisted me onto the saddle and then climbed on behind me, I found it difficult to breathe with his arms around me holding the reins. He walked the horse to the edge of town then clicked his tongue and kneed the animal’s flanks, spurring him to a canter. The rocking movement, with my back against Jonah’s chest, his legs rubbing against mine, made me grasp the pommel for dear life. He was trying to unnerve me, and doing a first-rate job.

  My mind raced ahead, hoping Amadahy or Ginny could help me escape his clutches once we got to the farm. I had a bad feeling he didn’t plan to lock me up this time.

  But we slowed to a walk about a mile out of town, veering off the trail and into the woods. When we came to a stream, he reined in the horse, quickly dismounting and latching onto my arm to make sure I didn’t take off as soon as I slid to the ground. He gripped my right arm with one hand, leading the animal to the water so he could drink.

  “Distant relative?” he said, more like an accusation than a question.

  “Fifth or sixth cousin.”

  “You don’t favor that heathen.”

  “That’s rich, you calling her a heathen, since you’re the most un-Christian man I’ve met in my entire life.”

  He tightened his grip on my arm.

  “You gonna be punished for telling the sheriff I killed my own brother.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “Don’t know where you got that notion, but it ain’t a good thing to do, waltzing into the sheriff’s office and spreading lies.”

  I trained my eyes on the stream beyond him, watching the horse lower his head to drink, noticing the water flowing off to the right as the ground sloped toward the river.

  “Who told you that lie?” he said.

  “Nobody told me anything.” My voice came out a whisper.

  “Then why’d you tell the sheriff I done it?”

  My body stiffened, waiting for the blow that was sure to come. But he didn’t strike me. Instead, he grabbed my other arm and pushed me backwards until he had me pinned against a tree. It was the first time in my life I could honestly say I would’ve preferred being slapped in the face rather than what he had in mind.

  “Let me go!”

  “Been thinking abou
t this for a while now.”

  His foul breath made me want to gag. But it wasn’t his breath I was most concerned about as he pressed his body against mine, reaching down to hike my skirt up.

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  I thought of the little can of pepper spray in my right pocket but couldn’t free my hand to reach for it. Then I remembered a story we’d done at the station on self-defense for women. I bent my knees and pulled myself downward. To keep his hold on me, he had to lower himself as well. I scraped my back as I slid down the rough bark, lowering myself bit by bit. He tightened his grip on my left arm and put his other hand between my legs.

  “At least, let’s do it lying down, not standing up!” I begged.

  He yanked me away from the tree, shoving me onto the ground near the stream, then unhitched his suspenders and unfastened his pants. I scrabbled in the brown leaves and pine straw, pushing myself toward the water, my hands searching for anything to use as a weapon. Then he placed his feet on either side of me, his trademark sneer spreading across his face.

  I yanked my legs up and using every ounce of my strength, kicked with both feet as hard as I could, planting them on his left kneecap. There was a slight cracking sound and he tumbled on top of me, growling like a wounded bear. Groping about on the ground, my hand finally latched onto a stick. I used it to stab him repeatedly about the shoulders and head, struggling to shove him off.

  “Goddammit!” He scrambled to deflect the blows with one hand as he fought to hold onto me with the other.

  I stabbed him hard on his neck and rammed my knee in his crotch with as much force as I could muster, wishing I could reach my Mace. He was enraged and hurting. I managed to push him halfway off, struggling to extract myself from beneath him. He grabbed my neck but his grip didn’t have its usual strength. I yanked my knees up to my chest, levering his body away from mine. Using the point of the stick, I speared the side of his head.

  He roared in agony, putting his hand to the oozing blood – my chance to make my break.

  I clambered up, rushing toward the horse, which had wandered further upstream. But he shied away, trotting off into the woods. Even though Jonah was injured, I knew I was still in grave danger. As he staggered toward me, I fumbled in the large pocket of my skirt, wrapping my fingers around the can of pepper spray. He limped closer, blood trickling down the side of his head. In his hand was the same knife he’d use to prick Ginny’s neck. I was shaking as I held the little can in front of me. It took all my nerve to wait, but I steadied myself, my pulse racing. I realized at the last second that I didn’t know which way the wind was blowing – whether I was upwind or downwind. Not good, since I could easily incapacitate myself instead of him.

  When he was a few feet from me, I pulled the trigger, aiming at his face, continuing to spray and spray and spray as he faltered. The knife fell to the ground as his right hand went to his eyes. He moaned, his other hand flailing in the air, trying to find me in his blindness.

  My eyes stung as some of the spray floated toward me. Which was my cue to make tracks.

  With the horse playing hard to get, I took off for the river, following the stream. I had bought myself some time, but I had no idea how much. I knew different people reacted differently to Mace. It took some people a couple of hours to be able to see again. Others, only fifteen minutes. Depended on how much got in their eyes and how strong the pepper spray was. If I hadn’t wanted him to catch me before, I really didn’t want him to get his hands on me now.

  Dodging rocks and squeezing through the underbrush, I lurched down the slope so fast, I tripped and fell, landing hard on my knees. I looked frantically behind me. Nothing yet. I pulled myself to my feet and continued on my way.

  It was much farther to the river than I’d hoped and I was tiring. If I didn’t reach it soon, there was a very real chance he would overtake me. A combination of terror and dehydration made it hard to swallow.

  I needed to put some distance between myself and the little stream. That’s where he would look when he could see again. Even if I’d succeeded in breaking his knee, I had no doubt he’d hoist himself into the saddle and give chase. So I swerved off to the right, far enough so I could still see the creek but he might not see me before I heard him coming.

  Minutes later, as I finally detected the smell of the river and heard the distant sound of water flowing, I also heard a noise behind me that made the hairs on my neck stand up. I hunched over, keeping low, trying to maintain my speed. The footing was becoming more challenging and I stumbled and nearly fell again, but managed to right myself.

  Definitely hoofbeats behind me. I clawed my way through a thicket of blackberry bushes, the thorns scratching my arms and body. I had to get to the river! But I realized the hoofbeats had slowed, which meant Jonah could probably hear me thrashing among the bushes. I stopped, squatting close to the ground and tried to slow my breathing.

  There was a whinny as the horse moved in my direction. If he found me, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  I got to my feet again, staying low as I moved toward my right, trying to bypass the thicket so I’d have an easier path. Then I stepped on a fallen branch.

  He must’ve heard the sound because he moved forward quickly, apparently trying to get between me and the river.

  “Come on out,” he called.

  What were my odds if I hauled ass to the river, trying to zigzag so he might not catch me? Not good. Not good at all. But I had to do something. Slowly, I stood up.

  When our eyes met, I knew he was going to kill me. But I was pretty sure he would want payback and would make me suffer first. I gripped the empty Mace can tight in my hand, thinking I might be able to throw it at him, if nothing else. He withdrew his knife from his waistband.

  It was obvious his eyes stung. He kept squinting and sniffing. Blood was smeared along the side of his face. If he had to dismount, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to chase me down after what I’d done to his knee. But he might be able to throw that knife in my back.

  As long as he in the saddle, he was in charge. I needed to level the playing field.

  Little by little, I emerged from my hiding place until there was nothing between us. He was about fifteen feet from me, sitting on his high horse, quite literally, and seething. I edged forward, my face toward the ground, but my eyes looking beyond him toward the river, which was close enough to see between the trees.

  “Now that it don’t make no difference,” he said, “I’ll tell you a secret. I did kill Isham. How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t,” I lied, taking another half step closer. “I figured that’s what happened, you being the sadistic asshole that you are.”

  He chuckled, but pain lined his face.

  “Why’d you do it?” I said.

  “Didn’t have no money. Lost my horse in a poker game. Needed me a farm. Wasn’t never gonna get one no other way.”

  “And that’s the reason you married Amadahy – in case the judge might let her keep it.”

  He gave a slight shrug.

  “Plus,” I said, “you probably realized no woman in her right mind would accept you voluntarily, you being a foul-smelling, depraved excuse for a man.”

  He rotated the knife, holding the blade instead of the handle. A throwing grip. My time was up.

  “If you kill me too, the sheriff might ask questions.” I took another baby step forward, hiding my hand in the folds of my skirt as I adjusted my grip on the small can, realizing there was a good chance I was about to die.

  “Nah. I’ll tell him you went back home. Nobody’ll miss you round these parts.”

  I had gradually moved forward, positioning myself about ten feet from the horse’s muzzle.

  And that’s when all hell broke loose. As Jonah cocked his hand back, I lunged forward, screaming like a banshee as I raised the Mace in front of me. I squeezed the trigger, hoping there was something left in the tiny can. The combination of the spray hitting the horse in the muzzle and my s
creeching caused the poor animal to rear. Jonah struggled to hang on, but was thrown to the ground, landing in a heap.

  I rushed for the river, making a running dive when I reached the bank. Holding my breath as the current swept me downstream, I barely dodged a large rock and tumbled down a series of small rapids. The river saved me last time I ran from Jonah, but this was a higher energy section, the current churning along at a much faster pace. I hoped it wouldn’t do me in this time.

  At the bottom of the rapids, I plunged into a deep blue pool that whirled in a circular motion, dragging me down, my legs tangled in my long skirt. I kicked and paddled furiously, jabbing pains killing my injured shoulder, desperate for a breath of air. Not fair that I managed to escape from that monster, only to drown in the river!

  With my arm about to give out, I finally broke the surface just in time for the surging water to dump me into yet another eddy. But, thank God, this one turned out to be a calmer stretch of river. Exhausted, I aimed for the bank, barely able to swim. When, at last, I made it to shore, I dragged myself onto the muddy bank.

  Crawling on all fours till I reached a patch of weeds, I collapsed on my back, chest heaving. For a moment, I let myself feel victorious that I was alive, having survived Jonah’s attack and the wild ride downriver. It was a fleeting moment.

  The peaceful blue sky above me made me wish I could close my eyes and sleep. But there was too much at stake. Jonah’s body might be battered, but that would only make him more vicious. It wasn’t just my life hanging in the balance. There was Amadahy, Ginny and little Betsey. And there was even Jonah’s life to consider.

  Feeling an obligation to protect him galled me. But what was I supposed to do? Ginny was right – he was Satan’s seed. Amadahy was right – he was the Bad Brother. It was maddening that he should be protected! Especially if I was the one doing the protecting.

  Was I supposed to take Degataga aside and explain that future generations depended on him letting Jonah live? That I, myself, was one of the descendants who would never be born if he carried out his threat? Right. I could picture the skepticism on his face. And if he didn’t believe me, deciding I was a crazy white woman poking her nose in where it didn’t belong, then what? Was I supposed to take Degataga out of the equation? No way I could ever hurt the man who loved Amadahy. It made me want to scream.