by Izzy Hunter
'Oh, I was wrong,' said Mrs Fontaine.
Willis stared at Mona, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'How soon can you arrange it?' he asked the older woman.
'Right away.'
The man stayed still for a moment and then stepped aside. Mona looked at Mrs Fontaine. 'What about Henry?'
The woman grabbed her arm and pushed her past Willis. 'Just go while you still can.'
Mona turned to face Henry before she left. 'I promise, I'll get you out of here. Even if it's the last thing I do.'
Someone was roaring with anger when Mona reached the hallway. No guesses at to who it was. A crowd hung around the entrance to the sitting room, listening to Trent rage. One of the whores caught sight of Mona and led her to the front door, telling her that if Trent finds out Mona's still here, he'll kill her. Heart racing, Mona thanked the girl for not giving her away, and escaped the madness of the brothel.
She ran through the darkness, seeking the sanctuary of Sanders' home. Someone grabbed her from behind and slapped their hand against her mouth to stop her from shouting.
'Don't scream. It's me,' said a familiar voice. He let go and Mona spun around, her heart racing. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her wrists tightly. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at?' he demanded. 'Trent wants me to go and find you, then bring you to him.'
'And will you?'
'What do you think?' he hissed back and released her. She didn't hesitate, and ran all the way to Sanders' home.
She was a mess by the time she fell through the door of the clockmaker's house. Tired, angry, teary and scared. It was a far cry from her usual cool, calm demeanour. Wesley, who'd fallen asleep in the kitchen, woke with a cry at the sound of Mona's arrival. Sanders and Hubert, who'd been wiling away the time with a game of cards came running into the room.
'My dear,' Sanders cried, wrapping a caring arm around Mona. 'Whatever has happened?'
'Did you find Henry?' Wesley asked, composing himself.
'Where's lover-boy?' asked Hubert.
'Give the girl some room,' said Sanders, swatting the others away and sitting her down at the table. 'Wesley, make her a cup of tea.'
Mona sat shaking in her seat. It had all gone wrong. She should have gone in, all guns blazing and shot all those bastards. Now she may have made things worse for Henry.
Sanders sat down next her, his warm hands clutching her own. He was peering into her eyes, his own full of concern. 'Are you alright?' he asked gently.
She nodded.
Paused.
Shook her head.
And then she felt herself lean into the elderly man, hot tears running down her face.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She wasn't sure how she came to be in a stranger's bed, but as the sun made its ascent in the sky the next morning, Mona looked around at the unfamiliar room. For one, terrifying moment, she thought Trent had found her and put her in one of the rooms in the brothel, but those rooms weren't ornate and grand like this one. She still wore the dress from the night before, though her shoes had been taken off and hair let down.
She slipped out of the double bed and crossed the varnished flooring to the wooden door at the far side. She pressed an ear to the frame, listening for any clue as to where she was. And then she remembered returning to Sanders, Wesley and Hubert. This must be Sanders' bedroom. A full-length mirror sat in the corner. Mona went to check her reflection, and wished she hadn't. With no alternative, she pulled open the door and almost collided with Wesley, carrying a tray of toasted bread, some butter and a steaming cup of tea.
'Oh, you're awake,' the boy said. 'I was just bringing this to you.'
'Thank you,' said Mona, attempting a smile, though she still felt awful. 'I'll have it in the kitchen.'
'No problem.' Wesley turned round and led her through to the kitchen. The table was fully occupied, with more people than Mona had expected. Amongst the surprises were Matthew and the crew men from The Red Jenny who'd accompanied them to the town's outskirts. Sitting amongst them, tucking into a boiled egg, was Sam.
'Sheriff!' cried Matthew, leaving his chair and coming around to her. His arms began to open up, as if he wanted to give her a hug, but he seemed to have a change of heart, and dropped them to his sides. His smile remained. 'It's good to see you again,' he said instead.
'You too, kid,' she answered.
By now, all eyes were upon her. Sanders was sitting at the head of the table, pipe in mouth. He offered Mona his seat and she thanked him. Sam was to her immediate left but she looked everywhere but in his direction. Wesley placed the breakfast tray before her then took the empty seat opposite, resuming his own meal.
'Time we were heading off, Mr Sanders,' Sam said, stifling a burp.
'Oh yes, of course,' the clockmaker said, glancing up at the wall clock above the stove.
'What's happening?' Mona asked, as the others finished up their meals and drinks, and got to their feet.
Sanders looked across at her. 'Well... ' he started, looking ill at ease.
Sam sighed at Sanders' reluctance, and addressed Mona. 'We're gonna go get your man back, and drive Trent and the others outta your town.'
'I'm coming with you.' She was up on her feet, breakfast forgotten.
'I don't wish to offend,' said Sanders' carefully, 'but I don't think you're in the right frame of mind.'
Mona stared at her friend, arms folded. 'Or you and I going to fall out over this?' She asked.
'Oh, let her come,' Sam snapped. He turned to Mona. 'We'll tell you the plan on the way.'
The yawns were continuous and annoying but Mona couldn't help herself. She followed the group out of Sanders' place and adjusted the large coat and wide-brimmed hat she'd been given. Sam wore the same get-up, too. Neither wanted Trent or his men to recognise them. Not until they were ready, anyway. The crewmen, Matthew and Hubert were okay. The gang hadn't laid eyes on them before. Mona didn't expect Sanders to tag along, so wasn't surprised when he began making excuses why he couldn't join them.
'You have to stay here, anyway,' she'd told him, as she'd put her fully-loaded gun into her holster. 'Someone has to keep the fire warm and get the food ready. I have a feeling you're going to have a bunch of ravenous people on your hands, later.'
A trail of townsfolk were already making their way to the jail, to pay “homage” to the new Sheriff and his men. As Mona and her gang fell into step, she realised she hadn't seen Connor. She hoped he was alright, and hadn't returned to his bad ways.
'So, you okay with the plan?' Sam asked, keeping up with her pace.
She nodded. 'And Henry will definitely be with them?'
'Yeah. Trent likes to choose someone from the town to fight him,' explained Sam.
'But Henry would never harm an innocent,' Mona told him.
'Apparently Trent has to goad him into fighting,' Sam went on. 'Slurring your good name usually does the trick.'
'Well, this morning's the last time he has to do it, so make it a good one,' she said. Part of the plan was to have Sam volunteer to fight Henry. While they fought, Mona and the others would get into place, ready to take Trent and his gang by surprise. She glanced across the sky. There was no sign of The Red Jenny – Sanders had revealed the workings of the clockwork bird he'd given Northam. He'd released the bird into the sky, just before Mona had woke. If things went to plan, the bird would head in an easterly direction and then explode in the sky. The clockmaker had reassured Mona, with a cheeky wink, that it would be impossible for the captain not to notice the explosion.
Mona's thoughts returned to the fight Sam needed to instigate with Henry. Everything rested on it. Too boring and run-of-the-mill, and the plan would be foiled. Admittedly, it was a pretty rubbish plan, and a lot of it was based on the assumption that the gang would be too occupied with the brawl to react quick enough.
'Just remember what I said,' Mona went on, her voice down to a murmur as they came to a stop at the back of the crowd. 'While you need to put on
a show, you cannot hurt Henry too badly. Not that you'll get much of a chance. He's the best fighter this side of the river.'
'At the risk of getting attacked by you again, can I just say that your precious fella won't come to any excess harm. You have my word.' Sam replied, lowering the brim of his hat a little more, as one or two people in front turned to see who was speaking. Mona did the same with her own hat.
'Yes, he's precious,' she replied, once the folk had turned their backs again. 'Precious to me. So I warn you now.'
'Hey, they're coming,' whispered Matthew. He, too, was hiding his face from the crowd. All three stood aside, as the rest of the crowd parted, and along came Trent, a large red lump on the side of his head. Mona afforded herself a brief smile at the sight, but it soon vanished when she saw Henry follow close behind. He was still chained, with gang-leader holding one end in his fist, treating Henry as if he was a horse.
Now she could see him in the clear light of day, Mona realised Henry was in worse shape than she'd thought last night. Dark circles sat below unfocused eyes. Gang members jostled his muscular frame with ease and no resistance. It was like the man had given up.
Don't you dare, mister, she thought.
They watched as Trent, Henry and the gang got to the front of the crowd. Mona found it harder to see what was going on, so weaved her way into the middle of the crowd. Trent was wrapping the end of the chain around the post normally reserved for horses. And talking of horses, there'd been a distinct lack of the beasts since Mona had returned. She wondered where they were. She wouldn't be surprised if it had something to do with Trent's gang.
'Ladies and gents,' Trent began, now ignoring Henry and addressing the townsfolk. 'Thank you all for coming down to see your new Sheriff on this here fine morning. Now my deputies have gone round the town, asking for you to bring with you a small contribution. A gesture of goodwill to the men who will be keeping law and order in your town.' He paused, and looked back at his audience. If he was expecting a burst of applause, then he was out of luck. Everyone just stared back at him, one or two hiding yawns behind hands.
'Yeah, so, anyway,' he continued, 'My boys here are gonna be holding buckets – don't worry now, they cleaned 'em up good – and if you could see your way to putting those gestures of goodwill into the buckets, I'd really appreciate it.'
Mona could think of a few gestures she'd like to give him herself. One of his minions appeared next to her, brandishing one of the aforementioned buckets. People started tossing in dollars and cents. Keeping her head low, Mona threw in a couple of some buttons which quickly got buried in the growing pile. She wasn't worried about the discovery of the buttons. If everything went well, then Trent would never even get a chance to have a proper look at his loot.
The man in question was looking over the crowd, probably making sure his men didn't miss anyone out. Mona even spotted Reedus dropping in some notes with utter disdain on his face. This surprised her. She thought the man would have stood his ground. Now the bully was feeling bullied. She glanced around, trying to locate where Matthew was. The boy stood a few feet away behind her. He hadn't spotted his father. He caught her looking and gave her a nervous smile which she returned, before focusing back on Trent.
'Well, thank you, folks. From the bottom of my heart, thank you,' he said. 'Now, once the boys are finished, I think it's time to have a bit of fun.'
Here we go, thought Mona.
Trent stepped back and laid a hand on Henry's shoulder. 'You've seen how he fights!' He stepped forward again, and eyed the crowd. 'He fights dirty! He's fights mean! This one's no gentleman!' He reached back and grabbed Henry's arm. Again, there was no resistance. Trent pulled him forward and Henry stumbled a little. The gang-leader didn't care, though. He was too busy trying to stir the crowd up, get them baying for a little blood. Trouble was, most of the town knew Henry, liked him despite not knowing a lot about the man. No one was cheering. No one was hollering.
Trent's face suddenly fell into a frown. 'I see you're not impressed. Maybe you think he's not the best fighter you've ever seen. Well, this morning, I've got a treat for you.' He dropped Henry's arm and stood proudly before the crowd. 'This morning, I'm going to fight the Mute Mauler!'
Shit.
The audience didn't respond as Trent had expected. Instead of cheers, he was met with with the odd boo. Everyone else was too scared to be so bold in front of the gang. Mona searched for Sam but he'd already moved to her side.
'Don't worry,' he told her in hushed tones, and stepped forward, removing his hat. 'Hey, Trent!'
Everyone looked as Sam pushed past them to the front. Trent's eyebrows rose in surprise. 'Where the hell did you get to? I thought you'd run off with your tart. Don't suppose you found her?'
'Don't suppose I did,' Sam replied coolly. He studied Henry briefly. 'I was wondering if I may be of service to you.'
'Oh yes? And in what way might that be?' asked Trent.
'I'll do the fighting. I fancy my chances against – what did you call him? - the Mute Mauler?'
'Now why would you wanna do that? It looks like you've gone a round or two with the fella already.'
Sam touched his busted-up nose gently and winced. 'Like I said, I'll take my chances. What do you say? A fight to the death? Makes it more interesting, don't you think?'
Mona knew he was pretending. Knew what he would say. But actually hearing them made her edgy. Sam still didn't know the truth about Henry. What if he lost control? What if Henry did? She knew she had to stay hidden until after the fight had started, but it was a struggle just to stay where she was, and not intervene.
Trent was swinging his focus between Henry and Sam. Finally, he turned back to his audience. 'I'll leave it up to you. What do you think? Want to see a no-holds-barred, real god-damn fight?'
Some replied immediately. 'Hell yeah!' cried Matthew, staying hidden beneath the thick scarf his neck. The crewmen from The Red Jenny, and Hubert, all joined in, calling for the fight.
Satisfied, Trent grinned. 'Looks like that's a yes. And to make it more interesting, the survivor gets to fight me!' This time, Trent's men yelled and whistled with enthusiasm, and approached their leader with their buckets, all half-full. Wide-eyed, Trent addressed the crowd once more. 'Well, folks, let's get on with the show!'
Yes, let's, thought Mona.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
According to Wesley, previous fights overseen by the gang had taken place in the town square. This one was no different. Trent led the way, like the proverbial Pied Piper. Both Henry and Sam's hands were tied at the wrist. It was Willis and the man from outside Mrs Fontaine's the previous night, who walked them behind Trent. The crowd, cajoled by the rest of the gang, followed.
'Come on, folks,' said Trent. 'Gather round, but give the boys some space. It could get messy and you don't want your fine clothes ruined with blood.'
There were one or two gasps from the women, and a circle was formed around Sam, Henry and Trent. The hands of the fighters were unbound again, and Sam stripped to his shirt and trousers, much to the vocal delight of some of the bolder women in the audience. Mona noticed the grin playing on Sam's lips. He was loving the attention. Henry, on the other hand, still looked gaunt and unsteady on his feet. Thank god he wouldn't be fighting the gang-leader. One punch would floor him, the state he was in.
Willis came round to Henry's side again and began helping him take off his dirt-stained shirt. Mona started, in alarm. Amongst the years-old scars, Henry had two entry-points, on his chest, to the machinations that kept him going. Two flaps of crusted skin which could be raised with ease. She prayed the gang – and everyone else, for that matter – would pass them off as old fight wounds.
The crowd began to mutter as Henry's chest was revealed. Mona saw one or two people cover their mouths with their hand. It wasn't that foul-looking, surely. But then again, Mona had had years to get over the initial shock.
'Looks like someone had a good go at you,' said Sam, regarding the scars
.
'You got that right,' said Trent, stepping forward and leaning to get a better look. He glanced up at Willis. 'Whaddya take his shirt off for? He usually keeps it on.'
Willis shrugged. 'I thought since Sam here was stripping, this one may as well, too.'
Trent looked back at the markings. 'What got you?' he asked Henry. 'Looks like the shape of something.' He reached a hand out and went to run his fingers along one of the scars, but Henry came to life and moved quickly from his touch.
'Looks like rectangles,' Sam offered. 'Are we gonna stand here all day staring at the fella, or are you gonna let us fight?'
Trent looked up at Sam and then Henry. The crowd was silent.
Mona watched, heart in throat. Come on, she thought, just forget about the scars.
Trent remained where he was. Taking too much interest in the rectangular-section of skin. To Mona's immense relief, he stood up straight, groaning slightly as he did so, and cast an eye across the crowd.
'Hungry for a fight, this morning?' he cried. When he was given only a few half-hearted cheers, he waved a dismissive hand. 'I've seen more enthusiasm in a pile of dead people.' He became part of the circle as Henry and Sam were left to prepare for their bought.
