Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider

by Julie Dewey

  “I am sorry, sir, but you have the wrong idea about me, I don’t know what you think, I work as a barmaid is all. Please leave.” I moved to the far side of my bed, flashbacks of my mom’s apartment filling my mind with dread.

  “Uh huh, I see. You’re just a poor little barmaid. How about we give up the charade and you give me a little something that will help keep my mouth shut and keep you from the slammer, hmm? That sound like a good little idea?”

  The heathen was upon me, taking off my shirt and ripping at my skirt, not caring to unfasten my buttons.

  “You’re quite the beauty; I see why the men like you. Nice size breast, not too fat around the middle, you even smell nice.” He murmured to himself.

  I was shaking in this man’s presence. He pinched my breasts and my middle, rubbing his hands down my legs before circling and appraising me.

  “Yes, you’ll do just fine.”

  The man had caught me completely off guard and I scrambled to think what to do, he was smothering my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

  I noticed he was soft, until he slammed my head against my bed frame. Then he grew a tad, but still not enough. I had time and I looked around the room for something, anything that I could whack this guy with.

  But he was too strong. He threw me up against the bed and straddled me, holding me down with one arm and working on himself with the other.

  “Ha, you are pathetic, can’t even get hard.” I spit in his face.

  He hit me hard across the cheekbone and I felt the bones in my upper jaw crack and my lips split, I tasted the blood too.

  He was hard now and began his assault immediately. One hand was over my mouth and the other fondling my breasts. He kissed me across my neck, even lapping at the blood running from my split cheek.

  “Nice girl, pretty girl, be quiet, that’s right.” He was coaxing me I knew because I could feel him softening again.

  I started to smirk at the notion and he hit me with his fist this time, my eyes rolled backward into my head and I lost sense of time and place for a moment. His grunting brought me back; I kicked and bucked, trying desperately to get him off me.

  The more I bucked and fought, the rougher he became and the more he liked it. He flipped me onto my stomach exposing my buttocks, parting my cheeks and entering my backside without any lubricant, I stifled a scream into my pillow. He was tearing at my insides, but if I screamed he would hit me again. If I let him have his way he would be soft again.

  He knew this too so he taunted me, “You’re just a no good slut, aren’t you? A little slut without a mommy and daddy huh? Well you’re my little slut now. I’ll fuck you any way I want and you’ll take it, won’t you?”

  He hit me again and pulled my hair from behind, bending me in an awkward position thrusting deeper into me.

  “I said, you’ll be my little slut won’t you, you fucking wench?”

  Finally he finished and he wiped the sweat from his brow. I got a good look at him and noted all the scarring he had across his chest.

  “Oh, you like that? Good, cuz you’re about to get some, slut that you are. You need redemption now for your sins.”

  He pulled his belt loose from the pants draped across my chair and held it over me. To my surprise he turned it so he held the leather stripping in one hand and the metal buckle down loose. He flapped it once in the air before whipping himself across the chest with it several times drawing blood. Then he turned it on me.

  “See we are all just a bunch of sinners here in this room. We need to repent, beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you beg me I’ll go easy on you this time.”

  I cried my heart out to him, “Please leave, I promise I will go to confession, I’ll do anything you want, please just leave.” I suddenly thought of Edmund’s offer to help.

  He whipped me over and over across my breasts, my nipples bled, my skin tore open, and then he turned the buckle on himself, cursing himself all the while. He whipped his member over and over and then turned the whip back to me. He flipped me over once again, putting the belt to my bottom, whipping me and then himself in turn. I pleaded no more, but closed my eyes and begged to die.

  “Open your eyes girl. I said open your eyes, god damn it.” He was hovering over me.

  “That’s right, when you see me on the streets, and you will, you don’t know me understand? I gave you thirty lashings this time, but I can promise you that’s nothing compared to what you’ll get if anyone finds out about this. I mean anyone, not even pretty boy Edmund. So you just go on and tell everyone you’re sick until you feel better.”

  His face haunted me, his eyes had no mercy or empathy, I forced my eyes to remain open, refusing to let him steal my dignity. I could hardly breathe from the pain and noted he was in agony too; he beat himself as savagely as he beat me with the belt. Blood pooled at his feet, and he dressed carefully, walked slowly, using the sparse furniture I had as a brace. He left the room and I fainted.

  Someone was pounding at my door, I could hear it echoing, everything was so far away, I tried opening my eyes but it was next to impossible. When I woke I was in the hospital.

  Chapter 12 Edmund

  “Eddie, dear, someone is at the door for you.” Sarah called to me through the house.

  “Won’t you please come in sir, I am sorry; I didn’t catch your name.” Sarah was polite as always even if it was the first black man to approach her door.

  I rounded the corner to find Josiah standing in the entry-way speaking with Sarah; he had his cap across his chest and was politely refusing a glass of lemonade.

  “Hi, do I know you?” I asked, quietly solicitous.

  “Edmund, dear, don’t be so rude, this kind man came asking after you. Take him to the sitting room, won’t you.” Sarah pointed the way and left us to converse.

  “Come in, Josiah, is it?” I led him to our sitting room, curiosity getting the better of me.

  We settled ourselves across from one another rather awkwardly.

  “What can I do for you, Josiah?” I asked with great interest.

  “Sir, we have a problem.” He stammered when he spoke.

  “Why I don’t even know you, how could we have a problem?” I was baffled.

  “It’s Miss Gert, she has been badly hurt. We have to go to her right now.” His expression was full of anguish and I knew it must be bad if he came all the way here to get me.

  “Okay, okay, just a minute.”

  “Mom,” I called out frenetically to Sarah, “I need to help Josiah with a few things; I won’t be gone too long.”

  We took my carriage into town and tied the horses to the tavern posts. We took the back steps two at a time to Gert’s room. What lay before me was horrific.

  Gert lay in a puddle of blood; she had been ravaged, beaten, raped and tormented. She was unconscious at present.

  “What the hell? Who did this?” I ran to her bedside and begged her to wake up.

  “Gert! Gert! Sweetheart, wake up!”

  “I came for my three o’clock appointment and found her like this.” Josiah looked everywhere but at Gert as he spoke.

  “Did you see who came in or out before you?”

  “No, sir, I only saw you with her earlier today when you was out walking together.”

  “Jesus Christ. We have to get her to the hospital, now. Let’s keep her on the mattress, quick, you take the top, I’ll grab the bottom.” This was a crisis situation and I didn’t care one iota who witnessed the spectacle. However, because she lay naked across the bed, I took my jacket off and covered her with it for propriety.

  The mattress wouldn’t fit down the narrow staircase so I scooped her into my arms and held her across my lap while Josiah took the reins.

  Once we were at the hospital and had Gert settled into a room we both scratched our heads at who would have done such a thing.

  Josiah and I knew Gert had clients by invitation only, I told him of the few clients I knew and he shared what he knew. The men we became aware of as her clients
were immediately taken off our list of suspects.

  “We need to call for the sheriff; this bastard has to be caught.” Josiah said with urgency.

  “Wait, I have an idea. Can you stay with her for a little bit?” I asked.

  I left the hospital and made my way back through town, stopping at the court-house.

  “Excuse me, may I please see Mr. Carey, it’s a rather urgent matter.” I told the receptionist.

  “He’s indisposed at the moment; perhaps you can leave your calling card, or make an appointment.” She barely acknowledged me as she spoke.

  I slammed my fists on the table, “No, that won’t work, I need to see him immediately.” Finally she looked up.

  The judge opened the door to see what the racket was and I rushed towards him.

  “Sir, we have a rather sensitive problem, perhaps we can talk in your room.” I pleaded.

  “What on earth is this about boy, who are you?” The judge was taller and more intimidating than I had previously imagined. I thought of him in wigs and lipstick, playing at games with Gert and would have had to stifle a laugh if the circumstances differed.

  “My name is Edmund, sir, I have come about Gert.”

  The judge took a step back. First he pretended not to know anyone by that name, but I assured him I would do nothing to besmirch his good name.

  “She has been badly beaten, might even die. I have her at the hospital now.”

  “I see. How disturbing indeed. Come with me son,” the judge straightened his wide necktie and grabbed his top hat, leaving word with his receptionist that he would be gone for the rest of the day.

  We took my carriage back to the hospital and sat with Josiah. Gert was still unconscious and the doctor explained to us in more detail than perhaps any of us wanted, what had occurred to her.

  “It appears this young lady was raped, and penetrated from behind. She was whipped with a studded belt, across her breasts, abdomen and pelvis. She was then flipped over and whipped once again; the open wounds on her back begin across her shoulders and end just below her buttocks. The damage she has suffered internally may be repairable if we take her into surgery right now, but I fear the worst for her state of mind, after a beating like this, she may never be the same.” The doctor searched our eyes.

  “She will need home care for a long time and most likely psychiatric care, too,” the doctor said.

  I wondered if she had any doctors on her client list. Then felt shame for even having the thought.

  “Before I can take her into surgery, and please pardon me for asking, but does she have any means to pay?”

  “Consider it paid for doctor, I will see to it personally.” Judge Carey said. He had an affinity for Gert, we all did.

  The doctor and nursing staff may have guessed what really happened to Gert. She was a young orphan girl presumably in her teens, living on her own in the city, working in a bar as a maid; regardless she didn’t deserve to be battered and left to die. Given the presence of the judge they set to work on the patient immediately. Several nurses entered Gert’s room, prepped her for surgery, and wheeled her past us towards the surgical suite.

  Chapter 13 Mary

  I felt the baby move in my fourteenth week. So far I had hidden the pregnancy from everyone. I had lost so much weight when I was forbidden from courting Scotty that to everyone around me I finally looked to be normal weight once more.

  I resumed my normal schedule that consisted primarily of going to school and then studying in order to stay on tract to graduate in the spring. I ate supper with the family, tutored elementary children, and stayed on top of my chores. But sometime in the next month or so I would begin to show.

  I prayed with all my might that I would get word from Scotty soon. The Wrights promised to pass along any information they had but so far nothing had come.

  I was woozy the first several months of my pregnancy, certain smells made me ill and sleeping was becoming more difficult. One morning I came downstairs to Edna frying bacon and I passed out.

  I woke to droplets of water being spattered across my face. Edna was panicked.

  I assured her I was dizzy because I hadn’t eaten since lunch-time the day before. There was nothing else to worry about. She over-fed me all day and although I wanted to purge I had to keep things down or she would suspect.

  At night I lay in bed feeling the baby move and thanking God above for this blessing. He or she would be loved by a mother and father, and God willing his or her grandparents would not shun us. I was terrified of their reaction to the pregnancy. Scotty and I had discussed having children, but certainly not until we were wed. It was all so overwhelming, but we had sensibilities on how to survive. The days of our furtive embraces lay behind us.

  Chapter 14 Bartholomew

  I observed the comings and goings of the Ale House wench for a month while taking my afternoon lunch and evening suppers at the tavern. I sat in the back corner of the restaurant facing the bar. I was able to see the back staircase by angling my body adjacent to the mirror that hung straight across the top shelf liquor allowing me to see both the reflection and identities of those who defiled the sanctity of the place. The black man came weekly for service, always looking around like the weasel he was and gulping down a stout before slinking up the back stairs to her room. The tavern owner took his turn as well, spending more time than the others with her, grunting and groaning while she stifled screams from their trysts. Gentlemen I had yet to become acquainted with came to see her as if on a mission, not bothering with the pretense of eating in the tavern, walking straight through the front door, past the bar and up the back stair case. Then there was the judge. He carried a case with him when he came, the case was fairly large so obviously didn’t hold paper work, I snuck up after him and listened at the door, behaving like a peeping Tom, while the slut and her master played at games. He liked to dress her up as a queen and he would be the jester, or he would be a cowboy and she a cowgirl, lasso's and fake guns were all a part of the game, and I heard her gasp when he pulled out handcuffs, the clicking, locking sound of them stiffened me right away and I took care of myself, spilling onto the carpet in front of her door. Younger lads as well as those old and grey came to visit Gert, but the young man with curly hair that flowed freely beneath his top hat caught my attention. He was not a full grown man, yet he visited Gert daily. I stood at their door listening while they laughed and grunted playfully, enjoying every moment shared in her bed. It sickened me, they were both sinners, we were all sinners.

  I had lost control once again, thinking of the man-child who walked through this measly shell of a town. The boy was petite and well-manicured, I wanted to tug at and feel his soft curls beneath his top hat. I lusted after him, thought of him endlessly and dreamed of him as well, this evil line of thinking needed to be curbed. It was unnatural, ungodly and I must suffer now. I flogged myself with my switch for my impure thoughts in the early morning hours upon waking to a wet dream. Later in the afternoon when I saw the man-child accompany the harlot through town I had enough. She held his arm at the crook of his elbow and they waltzed through town without remorse or guilt. They fed the ducks, ate ice cream, held hands a time or two as well.

  I had taken twin sisters who were acting as escorts down in Elmira, and left the city before anyone was the wiser. They got the cat o’ nine tails before I snapped their scrawny little necks, the both of them left in pools of blood, never to defile young men again. The innocence of our youth was gone with harlots on every street corner, and doing business out of the towns’ taverns.

  If one more person comes out of that conniving slut’s room today I swear I will go up there and make her pay. Sure enough, an older wrinkly gent walked down the staircase, adjusting himself at the bottom step before sitting at the bar and ordering a sandwich and beer to wash it down. I knew the hours of one and two were busy in the tavern, making it harder to discern between Gert’s customers and the tavern’s. I had yet to see anyone go to her at this
hour and that’s when I made my move. I had with me my rod and purposefully wore my metal studded belt when I dressed this morning.

  She was shocked when she opened the door to find me outside, she even feigned illness and told me to go away. Now why in the world would she service dozens of men but not me? This made me mad and curious. I pushed my way in to her room, observing the pungent smell of sweat, sex and roses; the combination was musty and tangy. I had unnerved her, good, she wasn’t used to playing rough, but after today she would beg for it. I pushed her towards the bed, banging her head on the frame, the sight of blood made me stiffen, I forced open her legs, but she fought me, kicking me off with all her might. I was not delusional; I knew what games she played at in this room, now she was going to be subject to my punishment. I was the law in this town and could just as easily take her in for questioning, but the sheriff was too busy for that nonsense, so instead I would teach her a thing or two. How it felt to be entered by a real man.

  The harlot, threw water on my face, bit my mouth and bucked wildly beneath me. I rather enjoyed this coy act, but softened when she grew still.

  “Beg for forgiveness for your sins and I will take mercy on you!” I demanded.

  “For my sins? What about yours?” She had the audacity to question my presence.

  “You question me?” I followed my retort with a swift backhand to her pretty little face, maybe it wouldn’t be so pretty anymore and her clients would lose interest in her services.

  “You’re raping me! Get off, get out!” She tried screaming and began throttling me with her fists, almost managing to get out from under me; I flipped her over then and took her from the back, putting this dog in her rightful position. If she wouldn’t beg for mercy, then she would pay.

  “Ask God for forgiveness!” I demanded again, but she refused.

  When I was through with her I shimmied my belt from my trousers and began my bodily penance in front of her. I lost control and needed redemption; I felt guilt for having succumbed to this weaker side of me. My body was purely evil and needed controlling, pain was the answer. I subjected the wench to my belt for punishment as well. Quoting the Bible to her all the while I drew blood, pleading with her to ask for forgiveness but she refused. I left her alive, but if I ever saw the man-child enter her room again, she would be sorry. She was defiling his innocence.