Skin Game

by Tonia Brown

  “I’m sure it’s a better place to wait than here.”

  “Funny you should say that, because you’re nearly on top of—” She paused as she raised her face to the west and frowned. “What in the hell?” Mab took a few steps forward, placed her hands on her hips and stared hard at the distance.

  The sun had fully risen now, and as I looked to the west, I could see what brought her to a standstill. A single column of smoke rose from the horizon. I knew the source of that smoke. The dying flames of Dillon’s vengeance burning through the last of Convergence. At Mab’s shock, I began to piece together her intentions.

  “What?” I said, dreading the answer I knew was coming. “What is wrong?”

  “Smoke,” she said. “That means fire. And if we can see it this far off, it means a big one.”

  “Where is it coming from?”

  Mab glanced to me with a desperate look. “Where we’re headed.”

  A chill race over my skin as I realized she intended to escort me to very same town I had just watched burn to the ground the night before.

  We were headed to Convergence.

  * * *

  Once Mab had her campsite packed away, I offered to shoulder part of her burden.

  “No need,” she said, then stuffed her fingers into her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

  At her call there came a whiney, followed by a clear and distinct sound I hadn’t heard for some time. Hoofbeats. Sure enough, a large quarter horse ambled over the rocky hill and headed straight for us.

  “Here girl,” Mab said, and held out a hand.

  The horse picked its careful way down the incline, then trotted over to Mab, coming to rest with her head against Mab’s palm.

  “Good girl,” Mab said, patting the horse’s face.

  I stared at the animal in disbelief. A horse was even rarer than a woman in the Badlands. Everyone knew it was suicidal to ride such a skittish animal with so many undead roaming around. Even the most devoted horse would pitch its owner to the ground and run like its mane was on fire and its tail was catching at the first sign on an undead.

  “A horse?” I said. “You brought a horse out here?”

  “Did you think I walked all the way from the border?” Mab said.

  “I thought horses were dangerous out here? I thought they—”

  “Throw you and run at the very smell of the undead? Truth is, they do.” She left it at that as she began loading the horse with her possessions.

  “If they throw you why risk it?”

  “First of all, my work requires speed. I ain’t got time for traipsing across the countryside on foot or at the beck of some slow as molasses goat. Secondly, Lilly here can’t smell the undead.” She paused and patted the horse’s neck. “Can you girl? Don’t mean she likes ’em any better. She still gets fussy when one comes around, but she handles them a whole lot better than other nags. Course she was raised around them too, so that helps.”

  “She can’t smell the undead,” I echoed in awe.

  “She can’t smell anything. Born that way, poor thing. I will say it makes it easy to feed her. She can’t tell the difference between a battered straw hat and freshly picked sweet grass.”

  “May I?” I said, hold out my hand to the animal.

  “Up to her,” Mab said.

  Lilly ignored us both and took a few steps toward me, nosing my open palm. The animal was a soft, earthy brown with a dark mane and white muzzle. She measured me through wide chestnut eyes, those fair and delicate lashes flitting up and down as she blinked. I held my hand still, waiting to see what she would do. She came close, pressed her wet nose against my fingers, gave a soft huff, then turned her face to the horizon as if losing interest in me altogether.

  “She likes you,” Mab said.

  “How can you tell?” I said.

  “Because she didn’t bite your hand off at the wrist.”

  I withdrew my hand quickly, unsure of how much of that was joshing and how much was real threat. Mab loaded up the horse in a matter of minutes, obviously used to life on the road. The horse stood obediently still during the process, also obviously used to this routine. Once done, Mab mounted the animal, then held her hand out to me. I looked up at the woman in dismay. In all my days, in all my experiences, I had never learned to ride a horse. I had no need too. I spent years confined to the bordello, and before that I lived in an overcrowded, not to mention destitute, orphanage. No one I knew could afford a horse, much less find space enough in the congested city to ride the thing. Later, my borderland workhouse used the labor of young boys as opposed to beasts to till the fields and sow the soil. Young men pulled the yolk and young men pushed the carts. We rarely saw an ox, much less a whole horse.

  “Come on then,” Mab said, wiggling her fingers at me. “I don’t have all day.”

  “I don’t know how,” I said.

  “I know. Now come on.”

  I reached up and grabbed her offered hand, and in a clumsy move she hoisted me onto the rump of the beast.

  “Hang onto me,” she said. “Relax and move with her movements. Lilly will do the rest.”

  I hesitantly grabbed Mab about the waist with both hands.

  “It’s as easy as falling off a log,” she said. “And by that I mean if you don’t hang onto me tighter than that, I guarantee you will fall off.”

  Being so close to Mab was troublesome, to say the least. I wasn’t by any means considerably developed, yet I had developed. That was to say, my breasts were small but most definitely there. I worried she would feel them if I pressed my body tightly against hers, giving up my game. Though I only had a moment to fret about such things, for Mab didn’t hesitate long with her threat. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and her heels against the flanks of the horse, sending the nag into motion. Lilly trotted smoothly along, throwing me into the air a few inches and back down again with each step. Frantically, I wrapped my arms about Mab’s waist, clutching onto her for dear life. I felt the woman’s laughter more than I heard it as we trotted along at a sharp clip.

  My egress from Convergence took me several hours, a distance mockingly covered in less than an hour by horseback. Granted, I was on foot, recovering from major surgery, and still in shock at the horrid events and decimation I left behind me as I ran. Lilly made the trip with relative ease, not even losing breath much less stride when we drew up to the smoldering remains of the town an hour later. Once Convergence was in plain view, the horse slowed to a walk and I peered over Mab’s shoulder as she gave a low whistle.

  “Lord have mercy,” she said.

  I felt like a murderer returning to the body of my victim. After all, wasn’t the destruction of this town and the death of its citizen’s partially my fault? Had I not angered Dillon, had Mr. Theo not needed to come and fetch me, had we not let the madman escape, then the folks of Convergence would still be alive and its walls still standing. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t truly my fault, but I couldn’t help a twang of guilt when I spied the tumbled down and blackened walls of the once proud town. I also saw something I didn’t expect. People.

  A dozen or so living folks roamed across the ruins, picking at this and that with studied interest. They grouped up in twos and threes, working together to pull half burned things from the soot and ash. I didn’t recognize any of the men from my time at the township.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  “Scavengers,” Mab said with a measure of disgust. She gave a deep, soulful snort and spat a huge wad of snot on the ground beside of Lilly’s feet.

  It was the most unladylike movement I had ever seen, and I wanted to mimic it the first chance that presented itself.

  “Vultures,” she continued in a low voice. “They saw the fire just as we did. Came to shift through the ashes and grab anything that survived. From the looks of this place, they aren’t going to fin
d much. Save for the burnt bones of the dead. Poor folks.” Her voice bore an echo distant sorrow that suggested she cared for the residents of Convergence. Or at the very least thought of them fondly.

  “What do you think happened here?” I said.

  “It’s not what. It’s who. And you’re better off not knowing anything about him.”

  So, she knew of Dillon. Of course she did. A woman of Mab’s presence couldn’t possibly travel the Badlands without crossing paths with Dillon or his horrible men. The horse alone drew immediate attention from the dozen or so souls digging through the smoldering ash of the town. All of the men glanced up to us in awe, ceasing their various tasks, many visibly rocked back by the sight of the rare beast. Most did a double take once they laid eyes on the clearly feminine rider. I became acutely aware of all of the eyes taking us in.

  “Everyone is staring at us,” I whispered.

  “Of course they are,” she said. She straightened a bit in the saddle. “Can you blame them?”

  No, I couldn’t fault them for staring at the horse or the rider, yet it was a dreadful position to find myself in. The last thing I wanted was to make a spectacle of myself after everything that happened. These men might or might not have been part of Dillon’s crew. It was something I didn’t wish to find out.

  Before I could suggest that we move along, Mab hopped down from the horse and grabbed the reins up in one hand. She led the animal to the edge of the ruined wall where she tossed the reins over the charred remains of a fallen crossbeam. She turned and offered me a hand, helping me down from the animal. My thighs and rear were nearly as sore as the slowly healing surgery site. I winced as I stretched my legs.

  “Sore?” Mab asked.

  “A bit,” I said, and rubbed at my rump.

  “You get used to it.” Mab patted the flank of her horse. “Stay here and watch her. I got business to take care of.”

  I had no problem remaining as far from the horrible scene as I could, though I wasn’t sure what to do with the animal. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Just watch her. Make sure she doesn’t try to eat any hot coals. Or burnt skeletons.”

  I looked up to the horse. “Will she really?”

  “She might. She’s like a kid sometimes. You turn your back and she is liable to stick any old thing in her mouth.”

  The woman chuckled under her breath as she walked away, leaving me with the distinct impression that she was joshing. I glanced up to the horse again. The beast eyed me for a moment with something like disgust before it looked away, as if deliberately ignoring me. I don’t think it liked me, and with the way my body ached after riding the animal for only an hour or so, I could attest that the feeling was mutual.

  Mab approached the three men standing closest to the northern wall. One was lean and tall, with a bit of age on him, while the other two were of medium build and height and at least ten years younger. The taller man quit what he was doing and approached her wearing a wide grin.

  “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” he said. He tipped his hat back by pushing one forefinger against the underside of the brim. “If it ain’t Miss Mab.”

  “Stretch Williams,” she said with a nod. “Been a while.”

  “Been a coon’s age. Maybe longer.” The man called Stretch threw me a quick glance. “Who ya got with ya? Someone we should worry about?”

  “Not at all.” Mab dipped her head back toward me. “This is my young friend, Sam.” She didn’t elaborate. Didn’t explain that we had only just met.

  “Friend?” the man said. “I thought you traveled alone?”

  “Times change,” Mab said.

  “They sure do.” The man motioned to his companions behind him. “This is Gerald and Dave. Boys, say hello to Maribel Deacon. Bravest little lady to ever venture into the Badlands.”

  The men raised their hands but didn’t say anything. I think they were too shocked to speak.

  “You’ll have to excuse my companions,” Stretch said. “They’ve forgotten how to act around a lady.”

  “But you haven’t,” Mab said with a smile.

  “I sure haven’t.” His grin widened.

  The pair stood in silence a moment, goofily grinning at each other.

  “Well then,” Stretch finally said, “what brings you all the way out here?” The man leaned in a bit and added, “Or should I say who?”

  Mab lost her grin as she looked back over her shoulder to me. She returned her gaze to her acquaintance and said, “Can we take a walk?”

  Stretch furrowed his brow. “Sure. You know I’d escort you anywhere, Miss Deacon.” In an overly dramatic move, he bowed deeply, straightened up again, then held out his boney elbow to her.

  She linked her arm in his and the pair of them strolled off through the soot and ash as if they were taking a turn around a beautiful garden instead of walking about the charred remains of a burned out township.

  The other scavengers lost interest in the woman, as well as the sight of the horse, and returned to whatever tasks brought them to this place. Everyone save for the pair of men Stretch had identified as Gerald and Dave. One of them stared at the wandering pair with measured interest. The other stared at me. I tried not to stare in return. There was something uncomfortable and calculating in that gaze. I began to wonder if he recognized me. I shifted in my stance, doing my best to pretend I had no interest in them, and could just hear them talking over the sifting and digging of the others.

  “Gerald?” said the one staring at the couple. “Who was that?”

  “Mad Mab,” the man staring at me said.

  “Who?”

  “Some woman who fancies herself a bounty hunter.” He spat out the word woman as if it left a filthy taste in his mouth. “Comes out here looking for outlaws that escaped over the border.”

  I raised my eyebrows at this news. That’s what she was doing here. She was looking for someone. My mind burned with curiosity, wondering who she sought and why. Though momentarily distracting, this bit of interesting information wasn’t enough to wash away the feeling of eyes upon me. I glanced to the men again, and found Gerald’s gaze still affixed on me. I grew increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He cracked a small, all too knowing grin.

  “Really?” Dave said. “Huh, I didn’t know folks did that.” He scratched at his stubbly chin. “Can they do that?”

  “They do if they want you bad enough,” Gerald said.

  “She comes out here on purpose? No one makes her?”

  “Nope. That’s why they call her Mad Mab. The crazy bitch. Only I heard she gave it up a while back. Must be a big bounty to drag her back over the line. And with a guide this time.” Gerald narrowed his eyes at me, then finally broke his gaze when his friend nudged him with an elbow.

  “Come on,” Dave said. “We should get back to work. Don’t want miss out on the good stuff.”

  The pair of men got back to picking through the debris, though Gerald glanced up at me once or twice, a thoughtful expression taking his stony face. I was certain he recognized me. But how? What would I do if he approached me? I think Lilly was just as uncomfortable as me, for she huffed hard and began to pace impatiently. I gave her flank a soft pat.

  “It’s all right, girl,” I said. “Your master will be back in a minute.”

  Mab and her friend stood about a dozen or so yards away, deep in discussion over some secret topic. She glanced to me every once in a while, as if to make certain I hadn’t run off with her precious horse. Or maybe it was more than that. I couldn’t be certain. I waited what seemed like forever, standing idly beside the horse while Mab conducted her strange business, until at last she finished and returned.

  “Well, that’s settled then,” she said.

  “Did you find who you were looking for?” I said.

  Mab cut her eyes at me, surely curious about my su
dden knowledge.

  “Those men said you were a bounty hunter,” I said. “Is that true?”

  “It is,” she said.

  “You hunt men.”

  Mab looked to the sky with an almost practiced weariness. “I like to think I seek certain persons of interest.”

  “Why? Who would want to find someone all the way out here? I thought this was supposed to be a fate worse than death.”

  She lowered her voice as she explained. “Not all here are forcibly exiled. Lots of folks flee here rather than face justice back east. Occasionally, those ravenous for that very same justice are hungrier than the undead.”

  This completely stunned me. I always assumed the outlaws who crossed the border were lost to those back east. But no, people thirsted so much for revenge they hired others to plunge into the Badlands and seek that source of misery. The very idea of it drew up deep and old worries for me. Would Mrs. Fathom send someone to look for me? Had she? After all this time, certainly not. The bordello owner had to think me dead by now, or sought me only among the safer zones. She wouldn’t think me brave enough to wander close to the border, much less cross over the thing into the Badlands.

  Nevertheless, I heard a waver in my voice as I asked, “Who are you looking for?”

  “No one you would know,” Mab said.

  I kept my mouth shut on the matter. It was best for her to think that. In my heart of hearts, I prayed she was here for Dillon. I ached for that to be true.

  “I do have some good news for you,” Mab said. She reconsidered this a moment, then added, “Well, sort of good.”

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Stretch is going to take you to a settlement a few miles southwest of here. Wooten isn’t like Convergence. It’s a bit wilder, but it’s better than spending every night up a tree wondering if the undead will find you all alone.”

  “Wooten?” I echoed.

  “Named after the settlement’s founder, a horse thief by the name of Carl Wooten.” She came closer, leaning into me as she said in a lower voice, “You’d do your best to steer clear of him. He’s one mean son of a bitch. In fact, don’t make friends with anyone. Keep your head down and your nose to yourself. Stretch might look out for you a bit, though he has his own affairs to deal—”