by Tonia Brown
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Gerald said. “Get back to work.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“I warn you, I’ll slice you apart.” He whipped his blade in the air, as if proving his intent.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I couldn’t fight you if I wanted too. I need to rest.”
Gerald sucked on his teeth for a second, then nodded. “Fine. Rest. But only for a minute.”
I thanked him for his generosity and went silent as I contemplated my terrible fate. To come so far only to die at the hands of a crazed maniac. To be fair, Boudreaux was also a crazed maniac, and I had escaped him. So was Dillon, and I got away from him too. Twice. Each of those situations had seemed utterly hopeless, yet I managed to wriggle my way to freedom each time.
I had serious doubts that would happen again.
“You must think you’re pretty damned smart,” he said. “Leading that bounty hunter to me. Did you think I wouldn’t remember you?”
It seemed my potential killer was the craziest of all my captors, because I honestly had no idea what in the world he was going on about. I shook my head. “Why would I lead her to you?”
“You know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about The Limping Mare.”
My heart nearly stopped at those three words. Words I swore I would neither speak nor hear ever again. The Limping Mare was the name of Mrs. Fathom’s bordello. The one I had spent nearly half of my short life chained to, enslaved to the desires of paying men. Mrs. Fathom and her terrible business.
If I hadn’t already been trembling from weakness, if I hadn’t already been sitting, my legs would’ve given out on me right then and there.
“How do you know that name?” I whispered.
“You worked there,” he said. “Didn’t ya?”
No. He couldn’t know that. It was impossible. “Who are you?”
“I was wondering the same thing about you, then I remembered. You worked at that whore house. I know you did.”
I didn’t speak. I stared up at him from my grave, unmoving. Ye gods, how had I ran into a client all the way out here? Lest one that recognized me under a layer of dirt and grime and stinking boy’s clothes.
“Yeah you did,” he said, grinning down at me. “I can see it on your face. It must’ve been hard being a houseboy for those pretty whores. Such fancy gals, and you all look and no touch. Is that why you’re not back there, at that easy job? They kick you out ’cause ya laid hands on the goods? Wouldn’t blame ya. I laid hands on plenty of the goods in my time.” He laughed to himself.
Houseboy. He thought I was a houseboy. This flooded me with both relief and worry. While The Limping Mare had employed many a houseboy during my forced employment, I didn’t remember any blonde-haired, blue-eyed boys. Thank goodness this idiot’s memory wasn’t as clear as mine. It didn’t remove me from danger, mind you. But at least I would die with my secret intact.
“You remember me now, don’t you?” he said. “I was there about two years ago, right before I had to come out here. Course, you know all about that too.” He ran finger down his blade. “I’ll never forget those blue eyes of yours. Watching me. I reckoned you had seen me that night I cut that bitch’s throat. I should’ve killed you too, but I was in a hurry.”
It was then I knew exactly what he was talking about. What he had been talking about the whole time. Gertrude Black. Poor Gertrude. She was ten years my senior, and as nice a gal as could be. She also ended up dead in her bed, her throat cut by some crazy client. This crazy client, apparently. I cut my eyes at him as I realized what he had done.
“You killed Gertrude?” I said.
He grinned wider. “Was that the whore’s name? Because she was just a whore to me. A dirty, stinking, ugly whore.”
I knew him then. I had seen him before, just as he suggested. Only, I remembered him as the last, drunken customer poor Gertrude had led by the hand to her bed chambers that fateful night. He remembered me as a nosy houseboy, watching the passing clientele with my wide, blue eyes. Gerald was right about one thing, though. He was one of the reasons I was out here. After Gertrude ended up dead, I decided I had enough of living that kind of life. It strengthened my resolve to escape.
“You’re working with that bounty hunter then?” he said.
“No,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “I only just met her—”
“Liar!” Gerald shouted. He ran a hand through his grimy hair as he gritted his teeth. “I had to leave everything behind. Everything! And all because of one lousy whore.” He let out a barking laugh. “And I didn’t even wanna kill her. She wouldn’t shut her fucking mouth. She just kept talking and talking and talking. All I wanted to do was screw, but she would stop talking!”
I winced at his rising voice, and his wavering blade. He stabbed the thing in the air between us, making slicing motions as if Gertrude was standing in the hole between us.
“Then you bring that bitch out here,” he said. “Coming after me. I guess I was lucky you didn’t recognize me. Now, I’ll be the last person you ever see. Get back to digging. I ain’t got all night to kill you.”
“I didn’t bring Mab out here,” I said. “I ran into her just yesterday, honest.”
“Honest,” he echoed in a mocking falsetto. Gerald sneered at me. “You expect me to really believe that you were just wandering around out here on your own and she happened upon you? What kind of bullshit coincidence is that?”
“It’s true,” I said.
“Dig!” he cried, and swiped the blade across my upper arm.
The metal slipped through the fabric of my shirt and sliced into the meat beneath. I shouted in both surprise and pain, which prompted him to lash out again. I raised my arm in protection, and felt the sting of the blade slicing into my skin. He swiped at me again and again, most of which I managed to dodge by rolling into the hole between us. I covered my head and braced myself for the end. I fully expected him to stab me to death in that shallow grave I had dug with my own, sore hands.
As I have said, many times before, what we expect and what we get are often two different things. In this rare case, what I got was far better than what she expected. As I curled into the hole, waiting for my life’s blood to pour from the various wounds that madman planned on filling me with, I heard someone speak.
“Put the blade down,” Mab said.
I lifted my head to find the bounty hunter standing on the other side of the hole from Gerald, with a pistol pointed in his direction.
Gerald grunted, but kept a tight grip on his blade.
“Sammy,” Mab said. “Get behind me.”
It didn’t take much encouragement for me to follow her instructions. I was all too eager to clamber out of that wretched hole and hide behind my savior twice over. I cowered behind Mab, staring over her shoulder at the red eyed devil that leered at the pair of us across the ditch in the dirt.
“I knew you’d come back for her,” Gerald said. He spit at Mab’s feet, sending a wad of phlegm into the open hole. “Knew you’d come back for me.”
“I’m not here for anyone,” Mab said. “Put the knife down and we can find out what is going on here.”
“You know exactly what is going on here!”
“Hello?” a voice called out.
“Who’s out there?” another voice asked. “Sam? Gerry? That you?”
“Shit,” Gerald whispered.
A swinging dot of light approached from the direction of the camp. The voices called out again, calling for both Gerald and myself.
Gerald sneered at Mab. “Stupid bitch. Now you’ve gone and done it. This was supposed to be simple. Why can’t nothin’ be simple?”
Oddly enough, I empathized with the man’s plea. If he wasn’t trying to kill me, we could’ve held a long and complic
ated conversation on the nature of such a thing. As it was, we both waited until the swaying dot glowed larger and larger until it revealed the lamp lit forms of Dave and Stretch.
“What’s going on?” Dave said, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Yeah, ya idjit,” Stretch said. “What’s the idea with waking us all up at the ass crack of—” Stretch paused as he laid eyes on the woman with the gun. “Mab? What in Sam hill are you doin’ out here? I thought you were headed up to North Cross?”
“I’m rescuing this kid,” Mab said, nodding toward me. “Again.”
I raised a hand in a guilty gesture.
Stretch stared hard at the gun, at me, at the hole in the ground, then at Gerald and his huge knife. “Wait up now. What in tarnation is all this?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Gerald shouted.
Dave waved away the thick alcoholic stink. “You been drinking too much of that homebrew again, Gerry. You smell like a still.”
“You shut up,” Gerald said, and pointed his knife at his friend.
Dave held up his hands. “Hold on there. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”
“All of you just shut up!”
“Gerry?” Stretch said. “What’s eatin’ you?”
“You sold me out,” Gerald said. He snarled and waved the blade at the taller man. “I should cut your throat too, you bastard.”
“I didn’t sell nothing,” Stretch said. “Mab, what is he talking about?”
“I’m not certain,” she said. “Sam?”
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Liar!” Gerald shouted.
I continued cowering behind Mab, wishing this nightmare would just end. Things were bad enough as it was without this lunatic making wild accusations.
“Gerry,” Dave said, and stepped forward to place a hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “You’re just drunk—”
Touching Gerald had been Dave’s mistake. Or perhaps just being there at all. Gerald swung his blade about in a quick arc in Dave’s direction.
“Get away from me!” Gerald said.
A dull snick rose between the two men at Gerald’s motion; the juicy sound of a blade slicing through flesh. Dave gave a gasp, followed by a soft gurgle. He raised his hands to his throat, blood and bubbles of air pouring between his fingers and he tried to cover the gaping wound. Dave questioned his friend with wide, frightened eyes, then toppled over into the pit, one leg folding underneath him as the other stretched out of the hole.
A dark stain spread in the dry dirt.
* * *
“David!” Stretch cried. He took a small step forward, then must’ve thought better of it as he held his ground and shifted his surprised look to the man still holding the blade.
“Ah, shit,” Gerald said and did a little worried hop, foot to foot, beside of the bleeding body. “Ah, god damn it. Ah, shit. Dave? Ah, Dave. Ah, shit.” Gerald stopped hopping and waved the blade at Mab again. “Look what you made me do! God damn it!”
“Put the knife down,” Mab said, keeping a cool, tight grip on her weapon, seemingly unaffected by the death of the man before her.
“You bitch! You made me kill my best friend!”
“I am warning you,” Mab said. “Put the knife down and step away from the hole.”
“Gerald,” Stretch said. “Do what she says.”
“I’ll kill you!” Gerald yelled, and lunged over the hole, toward Mab.
The gunshot split the night with an echoing report. Gerald fell backward, away from the pit, a cloud of dust rising about him in a glittering, lamp lit halo. Somewhere behind us, a loud winey rolled across the darkness. The gunshot, the thump of Gerald hitting the ground, and the whine of Lilly all faded together into a fine point of silence. There came a few seconds of quiet after that, as well as a few heartbeats of inaction from everyone. Gerald and Dave lay dying in the dirt while Mab, Stretch and myself stood around the scene, motionless.
“What in the hell was all that about?” Stretch finally said.
“You tell me,” Mab said. She lowered her pistol and shoved it in the holster. “He’s your man.”
“No he wasn’t,” Stretch said. “I only just met him. Besides, he’s worm food now. They both are.” Stretch wrinkled his nose and toed the leg that still stuck out of the hole. “Poor David. What a way to go.”
Mab jumped down in the hole and coldly lifted David by the hair, exposing his bloody throat. “Long gone. I reckon he was dead before he hit the ground.” She released the man’s hair, letting his head thump back on to the ground as she motioned to Gerald. “How’s that one?”
Stretch leaned over and placed a hand on Gerald’s neck. “No heart. I think you blew most of it out the son of a bitch’s back.”
“Hey now, I told him to put the knife down.”
“I know. Feller must’ve been hard of hearing. Ya said it about ten times.”
Mab pressed her lips together and put her hands on her hips, cocking her head at the tall man. “Don’t you get smart with me.”
Stretch raised his hands. “No need accusing a man of such a terrible thing. I ain’t never been smart my whole life.”
“I call a healthy bullshit on that.”
The pair shared a short laugh.
I got to my feet beside of the laughing pair and looked down into the hole that David half rested in. A black pool of bloody soil lined the bottom of the small pit. A shudder ran through me as I realized how lucky I had been that it wasn’t my blood. Stretch was right. What a way to go. How could the pair be so cold about the death of these men? I supposed I knew. Death was so common out here, everyone eventually grew cold on the matter.
As if remembering my presence, Mab turned her attention to me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Let me see those wounds.” Mab grabbed the lantern and stepped out of the hole, toward me, shining the light on my various cuts.
I hissed as she poked and prodded at the deepest of them.
“You’ll live,” Mab pronounced. “But we need to get those bandaged. Take off your shirt.”
My eyes went wide in fear. “I’m fine. They aren’t very deep.”
“Nonsense.” She grabbed my arm and yanked me to her. “Don’t be shy. I’ve seen many a bare chest in my day. Now, take off your shirt so we can clean you up.”
“I said I’ll be—”
“What did he have you doing all the way out here?” Stretch asked over my denial.
“Digging,” I said. I looked back down to the makeshift grave that now held the cooling corpse of Dave. I shuddered again.
“Digging what?”
“A grave,” Mab guessed correctly. She sat the lamp down on the edge of the pit. “He intended to kill Sammy boy, here.”
“Why?” Stretch said.
They fell quiet and when I raised my face from the pit I saw they were both staring at me. I scrambled for an answer. “He mistook me for someone else. Someone close to a woman he killed.”
“At that bordello?” Stretch said.
I started. “You know about that?”
“Yeah. He told me.” He shrugged. “Ain’t no worse than what half the men are out here for, and the other half do when they get here. I mean, I ain’t no killer, but being out here can turn you into one. It’s a dog eat dog world, son.”
Crestfallen, I looked to the ground before my face gave my disappointment away. Stretch talked about Gertrude’s death with such detachment, it made me sick to the core. Gerald killed the woman in cold blood, in her own bed, after he had taken his pleasure of her. That was far different than thievery or other wrongdoings. I wanted Stretch to be better than Gerald. I wanted Mab’s faith in him to be based on something I could believe in. But no. I was once again reminded of Mr. Theo’s heavy words spoken in his daughter’s nam
e.
There are no heroes.
“You sure you’re all right?” Mab said. She tightened her grip on my forearm.
“I’m fine,” I said again, pulling my arm away from her.
“He thought you were after him,” Stretch said.
“I heard that part,” Mab said. “Crazy bastard.”
“You weren’t, were ya?” Stretch said. “He coulda’ been someone you’re after. You know how folks are real good at hiding out here.”
“I don’t think he was,” Mab said. She poked her fingers into her mouth and whistled for her horse. The distant sound of hoof beats drifted toward us. “I thought you knew this man well enough to trust him?”
“Damn, Maribel. You know out here trust is a funny thing. I trusted both of them to watch my back as far as them revs go. But I still slept with one eye open and my valuables under my head.”
“Of course.”
“You spent too long back east this time.”
“Not long enough, Stretch. Not long enough.”
Lilly trotted up to us with a whiney and whine. Mab caught her by the reins and tried to hold the nervous horse still, whispering and murmuring to the beast.
“Hush, girl,” she said. “I know. I don’t like it either.” Mab patted the horse’s muzzle, then moved down the animal’s side, where she began to rummage around in one of the saddlebags for something.
Lilly stepped about nervously while Mab searched the pack.
“What’s wrong with her?” I said.
“She doesn’t like the sight of blood,” Mab said.
“Who does?” Stretch said, grabbing the lamp from the edge of the hole. “Well, let’s get back to sleep, Sammy. We got a long walk before we make it to Wooten.”
“Hang on,” Mab said. She pulled a handful of papers from the saddlebag and motioned to the hole. “Will you hold the lantern here, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Stretch said, and held it over the hole.
