by Gwen Cole
Not only is this one of the oldest buildings in the city, it’s the one place where the Lawmen come to drink into the night. One thing mankind hasn’t forgotten about is alcohol. Even people in Stonewall asked me to bring bottles back from this place.
An older man they call Ted runs a distillery in the basement, but Margaret runs the tavern. And that’s who I’m looking to see.
I walk through the dark storage room, and when I open the back door to the kitchen, a strong smell hits me that makes me stop right there in the doorway. My stomach growls, but I force my legs to move past the food before my hands begin to steal it. I see Margaret having words with one of the cooks and I start toward her, dodging some of the waitstaff on their way in and out of the kitchen. Her dark hair is thrown into a messy ponytail and her blouse has stains on it—the constant proof that she doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty when it comes to running this place.
The moment Margaret’s eyes are on me, I know something is wrong. She always greets me with a smile and free food, but this time her smile is dropping away and her eyes dart to the door leading out to the common room.
She drops the bowl on the counter and grabs my elbow, pulling me back toward the storeroom. Once the door’s shut and we’re surrounded by canned food, Margaret asks, “Why the hell did you think coming here was a smart idea?”
“I—what?”
“Avery.” She stares hard. “You can’t be seen in this city. If you are, you’ll be arrested on sight. Don’t you know that?”
“I had to come see you. I need to know if they took Finn to the barracks like they do with other new recruits. If they did, I’m sure I can get him out easily enough. I need to know. Please, Margaret.”
That’s when her eyes soften and she glances through the kitchen again. Lawmen soldiers come through her tavern every day, and they always talk like nobody is listening. But Margaret is always listening. “They didn’t take him to the barracks with the others.”
Didn’t take him to the barracks. “Why not? Where did they take him?”
I feel my heart race because I already know the answer. But she says it for me anyway.
“They arrested him, sweetie.” She puts her hand on my arm, as though I’ve already lost him. “When they tried to go after you, I guess he wounded a few men trying to stop them. You know they don’t go lightly on lawbreakers.”
My head feels light and Margaret sits me down on a crate. “What will they do to him?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He’ll probably be sent to work somewhere. But Avery, you can’t stay in the city. Someone will recognize you sooner or later and your fate won’t be any better than Finn’s.”
“But I have to get him out of there. You know I won’t leave until he’s out.”
Margaret sighs and pushes a strand of hair away from her face. “Okay, look. You’ll stay here tonight, but in the morning, you have to leave town. You’ll stay somewhere on the outskirts and out of sight. I know a place.”
“I just said—”
She holds up her hand. “I’m not finished yet. Over the next few days, I’ll try to find out what they plan to do with him. If they decide to send him to the quarry, it’ll be easy to get to him, but they’ve been unpredictable these days so I can’t promise anything, you understand?” I nod. “Once I hear something, I’ll send Henry out to find you and we’ll plan something from there. Sound good?”
“I guess … I don’t like the idea of doing nothing and not knowing what’s going on.”
“I know. You’ll have to ride this one out on faith, and make sure you’re not seen.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I tell her, thinking of Finn in that place, not knowing if he’s all right.
But Margaret puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “You’re gonna have to. For his sake.”
11.
Seph
We ride deeper into the city. All eyes are on me.
Even when my heart pounds against my ribs, I show them nothing of what I feel. The only things between me and the Wild are the bonds around my wrists, but I know soon there will be more. Soon I won’t even be able to see the constant sky or breathe fresh air.
That’s what scares me most of all.
Being trapped.
Like an animal.
Or something less than one.
In the center of the city, about a quarter mile away, stands a building that has withstood the past. Maybe not in one piece but still functional like it once was and still is. A prison.
Before I have the chance to look down or get my bearings, I’m dragged off my horse and thrown to the ground. I hadn’t noticed when our group had stopped, so close to our destination yet so far. The streets are flooded with people—multiplied from when we first entered the city.
That’s why. More people have gathered to see what the Lawmen are bringing in. I see them whispering to one another—pointing. Jeremiah stands over me but he’s facing the crowd—the same way the other Lawmen do.
I hear Hatch approach, pushing through his men to get to me. And when he does, I see the fury on his face.
“Get him up,” he says.
Someone hauls me to my feet, keeping one hand in the crook of my elbow.
Hatch faces the crowd, seeing as many as he can before speaking.
“This is what happens when you think there is something more out there,” he says. “When you think our way of life is too good for you. The old world is dead.” He stops, making his words sink in, and I’m trying to figure out what this has to do with me. Hatch turns and lifts my left wrist, the other going with it because of the cuffs. He shows them the red cloth tied around it—the same thing he saw before they took me.
Is this really what everything has been about? A piece of cloth?
He says, “People like this will not survive this world so long as we are here. They are outlaws and whoever joins them will share their fate.”
Hatch pushes me back toward Jeremiah and says, “Tie him to the horse.” He walks back to the front while the other Lawmen remount, and Jeremiah grins as he finishes tying a length of rope to my cuffs. He remounts my horse and kicks it forward, forcing me to walk behind him with everyone’s eyes on me.
Maybe Hatch hopes it to be a walk of shame, to be humiliating, but there’s one thing he’s missing: I have nothing to be ashamed of. I walk with my back straight and my eyes not looking away from the stares. This will not break me.
Jeremiah rides steady until the end, jerking the horse forward and trying to make me stumble. The moment Jeremiah gives me a little slack, I wrap the rope around my wrist and jerk back as quick and as hard as I can. Jeremiah falls backward off the horse, stopping the entire group of Lawmen in its tracks. Before anyone can make a move toward me, Jeremiah is already on his feet, his face red and splotchy.
I would laugh if it weren’t for the fact that he’s about to kill me.
His hat lies forgotten on the ground and he comes for me, one hand reaching for the pistol at his belt. I stand my ground, the eyes of a hundred people on my back.
Whatever he does will make him look like a fool.
He grabs my throat with his left hand, his right pressing the barrel of my own revolver to my temple. I hadn’t realized he took it.
“Are you going to kill me the coward’s way?” I ask. “Shooting a man with his own gun while he’s tied. That’s big of you, Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah!” Hatch’s voice doesn’t sway him.
But something flares in his eyes—something I’ve said.
I won’t die today after all.
“Step away from him.” Hatch comes up behind him, leaning in close so the crowd can’t hear. “You know we can’t do anything to him until the Sheriff has his say. Those are the rules—even though I would love nothing more than to break them right now.”
“We should’ve killed him with Durk’s men. Nobody would have known the difference,” Jeremiah says, still holding the gun to my head.
“Tha
t’s not the way we do things,” Hatch says.
Jeremiah’s hand uncurls from my throat, reluctantly taking his finger off the trigger of my pistol. Hatch signals for another Lawman soldier to lead me inside. We pass through the gates and a guard closes them behind us. I glance back to see the crowd disperse.
I’m on my own with no witnesses to say what happens here.
The prison yard is nothing but dirt and a whipping post—the wood stained red. It’s something I hope to never see up close. Hatch leads me through the yard, the soldier still at my side in case I decide to run. The others unsaddle the horses, a few leading them away in a different direction than the prison itself. We pass through a wide set of doors, and it’s happening too soon. I look back in time to see them close, and for the first time in my life, I’m trapped in a place where I cannot see the sky.
Here, the walls are close and the lamps don’t give off enough light. The echoes are loud and hide nothing. We walk down a long hallway until it opens into a larger room, where different passages break off in all directions.
Another Lawman meets Hatch here, nodding respectfully.
Hatch doesn’t acknowledge him, but instead asks, “Has Torreck returned?”
“He has, sir. Yesterday morning.”
“Did everything go smoothly?”
“One of the smaller towns couldn’t pay in full, but Torreck took another form of payment.”
Hatch actually smiles. “How many this time?”
“Six,” he says. “Well—five, actually.”
“Was there a casualty?”
“Not exactly, sir. One caused trouble and a few of our own were injured. Nothing serious, but Torreck decided to bring him here until he decides what to do with him.”
“And I’m assuming the Sheriff has already gone for the night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s probably for the better—he’ll need a night’s rest before dealing with this one.” Hatch half turns and flicks his fingers, motioning for the soldier to bring me forward. “Take him up to cell block four.”
“I’ll take him,” a voice says.
Jeremiah steps up beside me, taking hold of my arm.
Hatch looks unsure but nods anyway. “I’m going to trust he gets there unharmed.”
“By the law,” Jeremiah says.
Hatch agrees, “By the law.”
Jeremiah leads me down a long hall until we reach a set of stairs that lead up several levels. He prods me to go first. Oil lanterns line the walls on the way up, but they do nothing to lessen the echo of our feet.
I feel him staring at my back.
“Hatch gave me orders to do something tomorrow,” he says, following behind me. “I guess there was this horse following us on our way back to Kev.”
Even though my heart stops, my legs keep going.
But Jeremiah holds me back, his hand on my arm. He says in my ear, “And I have reason to believe it’s yours. Do you know what I’m going to do to that horse once I find it? If I find it weak, I’m going to kill it. But if it’s strong enough, I’m going to run it into the ground. Would you like that? Seeing me on your animal, knowing its loyalty doesn’t lie with you?”
He slams me against the stone, holding his forearm against my throat. My fists are clenched—all I have to do is hit him. But that’s exactly what he wants. If I hit him, he gets to do whatever he wants to me.
Instead, I say, “If I find out you did anything to my horse, I will kill you.”
It’s not an empty promise—I stare at him as hard as I can.
“In that case, I’ll bring you its head.”
I slam my forehead into his face and his grip releases me. He shouts, holding his hand to his nose like it’ll stop the bleeding. More Lawmen come down the stairs, their guns in hand.
Jeremiah shouts, “This little shit attacked me!”
Two of them grab my arms and Jeremiah rises to throw a punch. It’s a hard hit across my jaw and he shakes his hand out, but even so, I barely feel it. If I could, I would hit him until the bones in my hands broke.
“Take him to four,” he says, walking back the way we came. I’m pushed forward up the stairs, and behind me, Jeremiah storms away shouting orders to those who follow him. I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to start looking for Cade tonight.
This burning sensation in my chest keeps growing—it has been over the last couple days. Something I’m finally recognizing as anger. I haven’t been around people for this long before—they’re getting to me.
I think that’s why pirate ships are so appealing.
I would be out on the ocean. No walls holding me in and the sky giving me whatever it pleases. I would be alone. My wrists wouldn’t be chafed by metal and I wouldn’t have to be locked away for something I didn’t do. I wouldn’t have to deal with people who do what they please and I wouldn’t have to sleep with my gun already cocked.
Someone’s hand smacks the back of my head and I come back to see two rows of cells on each side of the hallway. “Keep walkin’,” the Lawman says.
It’s dark, smelling of body odor and straw. Rusted metal bars make up each cell, and when the Lawman soldier opens the last on the left, it squeaks at the hinges. They shove me inside—the door clangs shut behind me. There’s only one other person in the cell, and he’s sitting in the corner with his legs drawn up to his chest.
“Put your hands through the bars,” the soldier says.
I turn around, offering my wrists, and he unlocks the cuffs. He walks away and that’s when I notice every other prisoner staring at me from their own cells. Some of them look at me and others at my wrist.
I pull them back through the bars, wanting the shadows to swallow me up. I’m barely holding myself together as it is—I can’t get enough air and my heart won’t stop racing. If I look up, I’ll see the ceiling caving in on me like a never-ending nightmare.
“I know you,” a voice says from the cell across from mine. As I hear the words drawn out slow, I’m certain of who it belongs to. I met him a few days ago at an overpass of a bridge. The day before everything fell apart.
He’s one of the few who is more gone than I am.
I back into the corner opposite my cell mate and slide down the wall to sit.
“It’s funny seeing you here,” he continues, and I finally look at him. His elbows are propped up on the crossbars of his door, but his posture is so relaxed it would give anyone the impression he’s been here all his life. “But I guess karma catches up to a person after you kill a certain number of people.”
“Rami, will you shut the hell up?” a man shouts from a few cells down. “We don’t want to hear more of your nonsense.”
The one called Rami continues to stare. “Nonsense. Such a funny little word for a funny little man.”
Someone slams the bars. “I swear to God, the next time I can get my hands on you, you won’t be able to utter another word.”
Rami rolls his eyes and says in that general direction, “Whatever you say, funny man.”
A fist slams the bars again but he stops shouting. Rami winks before backing away into his own shadows of his cell.
It’s quiet for a little while until a voice speaks up next to me. “There aren’t any rules out in the yard, so I would watch your back if I were you. That guy killed someone this morning and nobody stopped him.”
When he turns toward me, I see he’s probably the same age I am. His hair is an unremarkable shade of brown and there’s dried blood on the left side of his face from an unseen wound.
“So the Lawmen did nothing to stop him?” I ask, low enough so no one else can hear.
The boy smiles faintly. “If they care about us at all, they have a funny way of showing it.” He points to his face.
He looks away but I don’t, not understanding what kind of place I’m in. I don’t know what he’s done to deserve this, too. Is he like me, and in this place for the wrong reason? Or is he really someone who belongs here?
De
spite the sounds of dozens of men around me and stone over my head, my eyelids become too heavy for me to hold open. The lack of sleep over the last couple days catches up, and I find myself in a place without walls.
12.
Avery
Today will be one of those days when it never quite becomes day. The clouds are thick and dark, taunting me with rain I can’t run from. Not like home, where the roof was solid and no storm could break in.
On the bad days when nobody went outside—not even the miners—Finn and I would sit at the table and play old board games Mom taught us growing up. Neither one of us was better than the other. I would win and then Finn would win—almost to the point where it got boring to play, but at least neither of us could say we were better.
If the storm got worse, we would lie on my bed and stare up at the roof—just to listen to the rain and wind.
At nights when we made dinner together, we barely said a word to each other. Finn would be at the counter cutting the vegetables we earned from the town greenhouse, and I would be at the stove, trying to put together a half-decent stew. And then some nights after a hard day, we would talk about everything and anything.
Finn’s long fingers would guide the knife down the vegetables and he would retell a story about one of our neighbors. His laugh would fill the kitchen. Sometimes he got me laughing so hard tears would come from my eyes.
I can’t describe the ache in my chest when I think of him and his smile. I’ve always loved his smile.
My hand searches my pocket for our wooden horse, but they don’t find it because Finn has it, wherever he is.
I close my eyes, take a long breath, and turn back toward Jack, who stands near the river. Margaret gave me a better saddle, but I left it back at camp, if I can even call it that. I was there about a half hour before I couldn’t stay still for another minute. We came as far as the river and now I don’t know what to do.
My thoughts won’t stop drifting to Finn and where he might be and if they are treating him badly, if and when I’ll see him again, and how that will ever happen. Then I think about the Lawmen’s prisoner—Seph. I don’t have the slightest clue why.
