by Susanne Beck
"What?" I asked, blinking at the non-sequitor.
"I think I need to have my head examined."
When the meaning of her words caught up to me, I laughed out loud, crushed her to me in a grateful embrace, and kissed her soundly on the lips. "Thank you, Pony! You won’t regret this!"
Laughing again, I pulled away, turned, and ran for the house.
When I found she wasn’t behind me, I turned again, to find her just where I’d left her, mouth agape, her eyes glassy. "Pony?"
"Bu.... Wa... He..." For a brief moment, I saw only the whites of her eyes, and I thought sure she was about to faint. Then she blinked, shook herself, and looked around to see if anyone had caught her brief lapse into insanity.
Unable to help myself, I laughed again, then completed my trek to the house, grinning like a madwoman.
* * *
Stepping inside Nia’s room, I wasn’t surprised to see her safely ensconced within Corinne’s all-encompassing embrace. The dampness of Corinne’s nightgown attested to the many tears shed by the younger woman, and when I softly closed the door behind me, she gifted me with a tremulous smile, her head tight against Corinne’s generous chest.
"How are you feeling?" I asked as I came to sit beside them both, laying a hand on Corinne’s warm arm in thanks.
"A little better now, thanks," she said very softly, her eyes not quite meeting mine. Straightening a little, and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she pulled away from Corinne’s hold, still not meeting my eyes. "Listen, I’m sorry about all this. I know you must think I’m some kind of nut for calling Richard."
"I’m not here to judge you, Nia. None of us are. I think I can understand a little bit why you called him. I might have done the same thing, once. That’s not the problem here."
As I fell silent, she finally met my eyes, her own round and dark and full of tears.
Though part of me felt for her, I had to harden my heart just a little. "The problem, Nia, is that your mistake in giving your husband directions to the ranch could put some innocent women in danger. Do you understand that? And why it’s so?"
"But Richard wouldn’t..."
"Stop it, Nia," Corinne interjected, reaching out and tipping the young woman’s chin up, forcing those round eyes to meet hers. "Right now. If you wish to continue to lie to yourself, feel free. But don’t force the burden of those untruths on others who don’t deserve it."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Nia mumbled, but I could see that she did, in fact, know. Guilt was written in bold strokes across her face and her eyes wandered downward, despite Corinne’s firm grip on her chin.
Knowing that continuing further down this path would only lead to Nia withdrawing into herself once again, I decided to try a different direction. Summoning up my friendliest smile, I turned it toward her and held out my hand. "C’mon. Let’s get dressed."
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion seen easily within their clear depths. "Why?"
I affected an offhand shrug. "Well, since your husband and his friends are coming down to pick you up, don’t you think it might be better to meet them in something a little more... substantial... than your nightgown?"
That "Angel just sprouted another head" look came back again, directed at me through two sets of eyes this time. I seemed to be getting that look a lot lately. I shrugged again, inwardly. Whatever works.
"You mean you’re just gonna let him waltz right in here and take me?" Nia asked finally.
"Isn’t that what you want?" When I wanted to, I could look very innocent indeed. In the periphery of my vision, I saw Corinne quickly hide a smirk behind her free hand. Ok, maybe not to people who knew me really well. "I mean, you did call him to come get you, right?"
"Yeah," she replied, though her voice didn’t sound quite so sure as before.
"Let’s get a move on, then."
But Nia didn’t move. Not an inch.
"Well?"
"Maybe I changed my mind?"
Corinne snorted. "It’s a little too late for that, my dear."
"Corinne..."
"No, Angel. I’m right. It’s about time we stopped coddling this woman. She’s made her bed. The best thing for all concerned is to let her lie in it. We’ve all had to do it a time or two. Perhaps it’s best to allow her her turn."
Nia straightened. "But maybe I made a mistake! You said you could forgive a mistake!" She was talking to us both, and we both knew it.
It was Corinne who answered. "Forgiveness is one thing, Nia. Forcing others to live with the consequences of that mistake is another matter entirely."
Nia’s eyes brimmed with tears again, and I watched, not without some sadness, as they spilled past the barrier of her lids and trickled down her bruise-shadowed cheeks. "So what do I do?"
I sighed, then held out my hand again. "Do you trust me, Nia?"
After a very long moment, she nodded, sniffling. "Yes."
"Then come on and let’s get dressed."
"But..."
"Please."
Her gaze was timid as she looked from me, to Corinne, and back. "Ok," she whispered, her expression much like that of a condemned prisoner taking her final walk. She took my hand and I helped her to stand, then gave her a gentle push in the direction of her closet. Giving her an encouraging smile, I then turned and made for my own room to change into something more suitable for the occasion.
Since I didn’t have any suits of armor or bullet-proof vests handy, I settled for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Ok. One of Ice’s T-shirts. I suppose you could say that I’d suddenly developed a taste for larger clothing. Go figure.
When I looked up after brushing out my hair, I saw Corinne standing behind me, her face expressionless. "What?" I asked, turning and laying the brush down on the dresser.
"Please tell me you’re not going out there, Angel."
"I’m sorry, Corinne. I can’t tell you that."
As I moved to walk past her and out into the hallway, she laid a hand on my arm, stopping my forward progress. "Don’t do this, Angel. The others are more than capable of handling that piece of excrement without your involvement. Don’t put yourself in danger when there’s no need."
Turning toward her, I gently removed the hand from my arm and stood with it clasped in my own. "I need to do this, Corinne. Nia trusts me, and maybe, just maybe, I can get her to see her husband through the eyes of reality instead of that little fantasy she insists on putting before the world. She’s made her mistakes, and she’s paying for them, but I think she deserves this shot." I looked down at our joined hands. "I wasn’t able to prevent things from going too far with Peter. Maybe my being there with her will keep her from making the same mistake I did." I looked up at her. "I need to do this. I don’t need your blessing. But I do need your love."
As I watched, her face softened, her smile beautiful and tender. "You always have that, Angel." She squeezed my hand, then let go, giving me a gentle shove out into the hallway. "You’d best get going before I change my mind and do something that will doubtless land me in the ICU, courtesy of Ice’s fist."
I laughed, pressing a quick kiss against her cheek. "Never happen, my friend."
Her return smile was wicked. "Never say never, Angel."
"I’ll keep that in mind," was my retort as I stepped fully into the hallway and went to collect Nia, who was coming out of her own room at the same time. She looked more than a little green around the gills, but when our eyes met, I could see her swallow convulsively, then straighten her neck and tilt her chin slightly in a rather impressive display of confidence.
Smiling, I gently touched her arm. "Let’s take care of business."
As we walked down the hall, we passed a large group of women filtering into the house, some with mild looks of alarm on their faces, others just looking for the first available place to lay their heads, it still being rather early in the morning.
I caught Critter’s eye, and she gave me a brief smile and a short nod before turning aw
ay to deal with her charges. Cheeto entered the house as Nia and I left it, ushering still more half-asleep women into the house. She gave us both a small, polite nod before brushing by to continue her duties.
The sky was a stunning blood red as the sun shone its crescent over the tops of the far-off mountain ranges. Looking at it, I wondered if the color was an omen, then shivered internally at my own ghoulish thoughts.
The air was cool and crisp, a slight breeze ruffling my hair and leaving goosebumps in its wake as it brushed gently against my skin.
The courtyard was a bustle of activity, with woman moving to and fro, their faces set with serious purpose. Taking Nia’s hand in mine, I moved out beyond the crowd and headed toward the stables, where I could see Pony and the others assembling.
It was a mixed group of women gathering there—both Amazons and several permanent residents of the ranch, each of whom looked supremely confident and capable, even in the face of what was sure to be a dangerous situation. They formed a single-file line facing Pony, who was kneeling on the ground in front of a long box from which she removed weapons, handing one to each woman in turn as they approached.
I could feel Nia stiffen beside me, her hand becoming warm and clammy as it rested in mine. I turned my head to see her staring at each weapon as it emerged from the box, her eyes wide and frightened. Smiling slightly, I tightened the grip of our hands and started forward again, determined to drag her behind me if I needed to. Thankfully, after a minor stumble, she quickly began walking under her own power.
Just as we were about to reach the group, the corral gate opened and Cowgirl rode out atop her spirited horse. Seeing us, she grinned, tipped her hat, twirled her rifle once in an impressive maneuver, and gently urged her horse into a trot in the direction of the orchard, giving us all a cheery wave as she passed.
A moment later, Montana emerged from the corral, seated astride a truly magnificent dappled gray mare who sported a snow-white mane and tail. Twitching her lips in a semblance of a smile, she touched the brim of her hat in a very Cooper-esque fashion, settled her rifle comfortably against her thighs, and, with a quiet ‘hut’, sent her own mount after Cowgirl’s.
We started forward again and, hearing our approaching footsteps, Pony gave us both a wave and a jaunty grin before standing up and brushing the desert sand from her knees. "Great day for a bloodbath," she joked with a gallows humor I well remembered, if couldn’t quite appreciate, given the circumstances. "We’re just about ready."
Soft footsteps from the interior of the stables heralded Rio’s approach, and when she stepped from the shadows into the newly risen sun with a gun in her hands large enough to bring down an entire herd of stampeding elephants, I’ll admit my heart considered fainting dead away and taking the rest of my body with it.
She stared at me for a long moment, her dark eyes wary and watchful, before apparently realizing why my face was as white as the sun-bleached steer’s head which hung above the stable doors. Blushing sheepishly, she lowered the barrel of her shotgun until it faced the desert floor and held up her free hand, palm out, facing me.
It was then that my lungs remembered what their true purpose was and I took in a grateful breath, happy when that simple action dissipated the dizziness I was beginning to feel.
"Sorry," she mouthed, before turning her attention to Pony and dragging the now-empty wooden box back into the stable.
"Are you ok?" Nia asked.
"Um... yeah. I just... you know... saw... something."
She giggled a little, which relaxed us both. When Rio stepped out again into the sunlight, her gun was pointed carefully at the ground. Our glances crossed briefly, and then she turned, taking her place at Pony’s left shoulder as the women moved out of the courtyard and onto the path that would lead them to the orchard.
I turned to Nia. "You ready?"
Looking up at me, her expression was, by turns, doomed and hopeful. "You don’t suppose I could just... go back to my room and pretend this day never happened, do you?"
"Well, you could do that, yes."
For a brief second, her eyes lit up brighter than a joyful child’s on his birthday. Then she sighed. "But if I keep hiding from my mistakes, nothing’s ever going to get better for me, is it."
"Nobody knows what direction someone’s life will take," I said with as much compassion as I could. "Not even their own. But this seems like a good place to start, yes."
She looked as it she were biting into a lemon. "Somehow, I knew you’d say that."
"Ms. Predictability," I said through my grin, "that’s me."
* * *
The shade beneath the orange trees was cool, dim and fragrant. I tried my best to blend in with the thick foliage around me, but I knew that unless these trees were suffering from a spectacular case of fungal rot, my bluejeans and black T-shirt could never be mistaken for part of the scenery. Nia, who was standing by my side as if glued there, was much better dressed for the occasion, sporting brown slacks and a green top. She was so frightened, however, that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that standing next to me was like keeping company with a neon billboard. Or a bullseye.
Squinting against the dappled sunlight that occasionally filtered through the grove, I tried to spot the other women who were ensconced, as I was, within the thick fall of heavy foliage, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Except for Pony, who was standing behind the tree in front of me, and Rio, who was standing across the small road which led through the trees, it was as if the rest of the women had never been there at all.
Standing plastered against me, I felt Nia shift, then shift again.
"What’s wrong?" I whispered.
"I gotta pee," she replied in a five-year-old’s voice as she continued to squirm against the pressure in her bladder.
The only thing that kept me from exploding with laughter was the vivid memory of my own similar situation while waiting to cross into Canada two years before. Some of my mirth must have shown on my face, however, because she scowled at me.
"It’s not funny."
"No, I know it’s not," I hastened to reassure her, "but you’re kinda gonna have to hold it for a little..."
My helpful advice was interrupted by a horse’s quiet nicker. Pony turned to me, her face set. "They’re coming."
Nodding, I looked back at Nia. Her face was chalky white, her expression slightly ill. "I... um... don’t think ‘holding it’ is gonna be a problem anymore."
Resisting the urge to step delicately away from her, I settled instead for a sympathetic smile. "Well, that’s one less thing to worry about, right?"
The sounds of trucks barreling down the unpaved road made whatever she might have said into a very moot point. Feeling her stiffen beside me, I knew without even the slightest hint of a doubt that she was readying herself to bolt. Much as I wanted to restrain her, I knew I couldn’t. Not and remain true to my own ideals, not to mention the spirit and intent of Montana’s ranch.
To my immense surprise, though, instead of fleeing, she simply looked at me. "Please," she whispered. "Don’t... Don’t make me do this. Please..."
"You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Nia," I replied, gently as I could while sparing a glance over my shoulder to track the progress of the oncoming trucks that I could barely see past the line of trees blocking my vision.
"I can’t... I’m so... so scared." Her hands knotted in the fabric of her shirt, twisting so hard the fabric came very close to tearing. "He... He..."
Ignoring the action at my back, I turned my attention fully on Nia, sensing an epiphany in the making.
Her eyes were wide and dark and full of tears as she stared at me, past me, staring at something my own eyes couldn’t see. "He hurts me," she whispered, as if saying it louder would seal her fate.
Blindly grabbing the front of my shirt, she buried her flushed face into my chest. I cradled her to me, knowing exactly what she was going through and crying a little for us both.
> Her moans turned to muffled sobs and I comforted her as best I could, all the while tracking the action behind me by sound alone. When the trucks skid to a stop and a door opened, I turned, taking Nia with me, and shuffled forward slightly to a break in the heavy leaves blocking my vision.
It’s amazing how such monsters wear the mask of the ordinary so easily. And that’s just what he was.
Ordinary.
Ordinary face, ordinary body, ordinary clothes. A man you’d pass on the street without looking twice. Without wondering if perhaps he beat the holy hell out of his wife for the unpardonable sin of breathing too loudly.
I strained my ears to hear his voice and was not surprised to hear that it, too, was ordinary.
"Get those horses outta the way, bitch. You’re blockin the road."
"You’re trespassing on private property," Montana coolly responded.
"I don’t see any signs," he scoffed, spitting off to the side.
"There aren’t any," Montana agreed.
"Then who says it’s private property?"
"I do."
"And who are you? The fucking Queen of Sheba?"
"I might be."
"Just let me pass, dyke, before I run you and your fucking horses over."
"I suggest you do as I say and go back the way you came."
Crossing his arms over his chest, he squinted at her. "Or what?"
I heard the shot before I saw Montana’s gun move, and watched as Richard danced away from the puff of desert dust blew up from where his foot had been a split-second before. When he looked up at her, his mouth was a perfect "O" of shock, and for a brief instant, he had the look of a schoolboy just caught with his father’s Penthouse.
"Go home, Richard," Montana said, her voice full and deep and unbending.
"Not without my wife," he snarled, finally gathering his wits about him. "You fucking kidnapped her and I’m not leaving till I get what I came for."
"She wasn’t kidnapped, Richard. You know that as well as I do."
