by Alta Hensley
She yelps but holds her position, clenching the table on both sides with her tiny fists. Her sisterwife stands stoically near with no emotion on her face other than a slight flicker of her eyelids with each swat that is coming down in rapid succession now.
Scarecrow has no mercy and rains the leather down upon her over and over again. Each strike is harder than the last, and I already see angry red lashes that will surely bruise. Wife Number Two holds position and, though crying out, isn’t trying to reach back and protect herself.
She knows better.
It’s obvious that she knows better.
I can only stand and watch on helplessly. I know these two men in this room. If I try to stop it, it will just mean more of a whipping for Wife Number Two, and one for me as well. I can’t reason with insanity, and that is exactly what Scarecrow is.
This is insanity.
The deepest, darkest, cruelest, and most vile form of insanity.
When Scarecrow finally finishes the beating, he pulls away, loops his belt back into place, and hobbles his way to Wife Number One. I inhale sharply and close my eyes.
She’s next.
I open my eyes right as he takes a handful of her hair, forcefully pulls her head back, and says, “Now make us some supper, and don’t ever do that again, or Wife Number Two will pay for your transgressions once more.”
She nods and rushes to the makeshift cook station she has and begins digging in burlap bags for what looks like rotten potatoes and nearly rotten carrots.
Wife Number Two stands up and fixes her dress as she wipes away the tears from her face. She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone but instead makes her way over to Wife Number One and assists in the supper preparation.
Not knowing what else to do, I also walk over, reach for a potato and a knife, and begin cutting away the rot. Swallowing back the impending dread, I busy myself in the now.
All I have is right now.
6
Ember
* * *
I can hear Papa Rich and Scarecrow talking outside the door as they smoke their pipe and drink from a tin cup full of cheap whiskey—which they of course didn’t offer to any of the wives. They also ate most of the supper that we had prepared, though I didn’t mind one bit. My stomach is still nothing but a ball of nerves, and I’m not sure I could have held down much more than the couple of bites I did have dished up on my plate.
“We need to leave at first light tomorrow,” Papa Rich says. “I know we just got here, but I don’t like that the pilot knows our general location. He could tell the police where we’re at.”
“No, he’ll stay quiet. He’ll be in a shitload of trouble if he admits to helping wanted fugitives fly across state lines,” Scarecrow replies.
“And Louisa Davenport? What if she caves under questioning from her son? I can see that happening.”
“That rich bitch is going to keep her mouth shut too. Do you think she wants it known she helped us escape? Not only escape but gave us funds that will get us through the winter,” Scarecrow prompts.
“Still… I’m not comfortable with the fact. And though we may have stayed away from the authorities up until now, they are going to beef up looking for us even more now that we have Ember. Nevada isn’t safe for us anywhere. They will comb every inch of these mountains and deserts, and you know it.”
“It’s remote here.”
“Not remote enough for my liking.”
There’s a long pause, but then Scarecrow finally says, “So, you still thinking Wyoming?”
“Yes,” Papa Rich says. “Montana is an option, but a Ranger buddy of mine once told me of a very old and desolate town in the mountains. It will be in poor condition, but nothing we can’t handle.”
“And you’re positive we can find it? I’m just not liking the idea of having my wives travel through a huge state to hunt for a town we may or may not be able to find.”
“Which is why I’d like to suggest an idea I’ve been stewing on,” Papa Rich says as I hear him inhale deeply from the pipe he’s smoking. “I say you and I leave for now. It’s going to be winter soon, and from the looks of the sky, a storm is brewing. We brought back plenty of provisions for the women to live off of while we’re gone. The snow the storm will bring will keep them… securely in place until we return. We go and scout the area, find our new home, then come back and get your wives to start a new settlement.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about leaving the women alone up here. The winters are brutal.”
“I get that,” Papa Rich says. “But I know Ember knows how to survive just fine. I taught her well. I’m also sure your wives know how to make do. And I think you and I have a better chance buying that truck we saw and heading out on our own. Ember being with us could draw more attention.”
“The last time you left Ember unattended, she burned down an entire town. You really think we can trust her?”
“She’s learned from her mistakes, or she wouldn’t have left with us. We didn’t have to tie her up and drag her back here. Plus, you have your two wives to look after her. You know damn well those women wouldn’t dare anger you by doing something as foolish as trying to leave. Where would they go? What would they do?”
“You have valid points,” Scarecrow says slowly. There’s a long moment of silence, and then he adds, “We better get moving at first light. I don’t want to hike down the mountain in the snow and rain.”
“I don’t think Husband will appreciate you spying on his conversation,” a voice from behind me says, startling me as I spin to face my accuser.
“I—”
Wife Number One motions for me to follow her, fear in her eyes as she glances at the door, expecting it to open any second. “I just don’t want you to catch the wrath of Husband.”
I follow her to where Wife Number Two is working on masoning the fire pit with the river rock and the bucket of clay.
“Can I help?” I ask, grateful that Wife Number One is only trying to help rather than get me into trouble by telling Scarecrow and Papa Rich that I practically had my ear to the door.
“Snow is coming soon,” Wife Number Two says, not looking at me as she continues to build. “If we don’t get this hole patched up with a chimney, we’re going to freeze.” She points to the rocks. If you hand me one at a time, I’ll apply the clay. I can move faster that way.”
I rush to her side, grateful to have something to do and also for a way to help prove my worth. I’m sure they are wondering who I am and why I’m here.
“I’m Ember,” I begin as I hand a rock to her. “Richard is my… father.”
“We know who you are,” Wife Number One says from behind me. “Scarecrow told us all about you and what you did… to Hallelujah Junction.”
I freeze, scared to look over my shoulder at the woman in fear of the judgement I’d see in her eyes. I wonder what they must think, having an arsonist under their roof.
“My name is Holly,” Wife Number One says. “And this is Violet.”
“We’re sisters,” Violet adds. “My father promised our hand in marriage to Scarecrow not long ago, which is how we came here.”
What kind of father would do such a vile and cruel thing? One look at Scarecrow says it all—he’s not husband material. He’s just… disgusting.
Although… isn’t that exactly what my own father is doing? Marrying me off to a sick creature?
“I’m Wife Number One,” Holly says. “I’m the oldest, and my sister is Wife Number Two.”
She makes the statement like it’s completely ordinary and I wouldn’t find this information shocking in the least.
“It looks like you’re going to be Wife Number Three,” Violet says. She stops applying the clay to the rock and looks up at Holly. “What do you think her purpose will be?”
“Purpose?” I ask.
Violet looks at me and smiles, but then her face grows grim just as quickly. “Holly’s purpose is to provide Scarecrow with pleasure. She’s the one in cha
rge of doing her wifely duty in the… bedroom.” Violet returns to her clay and reaches for the rock that’s in my hand. “My duty is to pay for my sister’s as well as my indiscretions. I am the extra, the standby.”
My thoughts go back to the whipping she took for not having supper ready.
She shrugs. “I think Holly has it far worse.”
I then picture Holly being intimate—no doubt against her will—with Scarecrow. The bile rising in the back of my throat has me 100 percent agreeing with Violet. Holly has it far worse. I’d take a beating every day with a belt over having to have sex with Scarecrow.
“I don’t know what her purpose will be,” Holly says. “But we welcome you as a fellow sisterwife.”
“Thank you,” I say, even though I don’t feel very thankful. I don’t want to marry Scarecrow. I don’t want to have a purpose.
“Is Richard your only family?” Violet asks.
I pause as I don’t know what to say. Christopher… he was my family, but I suppose I need to accept that it all changed when I hopped on the plane and left New York.
“Yes,” I answer, which makes me feel like I’m somehow betraying Christopher.
“We only had our pa too,” Violet says. “Our ma died when we were real young. It was just the three of us living off the grid. Pa didn’t believe in society.”
“I understand.” Which I do, considering Papa Rich is the exact same way.
“He met Scarecrow years ago,” Violet adds. “They used to trade.”
“Until our pa traded us,” Holly cuts in, the venom in her voice clear. “And now you get the pleasure of being Scarecrow’s wife as well. Congratulations.”
Before I can get myself worked up with the thought, Scarecrow and Papa Rich enter the chapel.
“All right, women. We have come to a decision,” Scarecrow announces as the loud pounding of his crutches on the wooden floor seems to amplify his voice. “I’m going to marry Ember right here and right now. We don’t have any time to lose, since we’re leaving at first light tomorrow to find us a new homestead.” He glares at me. “Ember here has made our current situation more precarious, and therefore, we don’t feel like staying here is wise. Plus, I believe God has spoken to me and told me that our journey to Wyoming is a good one.”
Holly and Violet both nod obediently. They don’t question, they don’t argue, and they don’t show any emotion other than their complete submission.
I consider speaking up, but my mouth remains closed.
“Come on now,” Scarecrow says as he walks toward a wooden cross on the wall. “This is as good a spot as any.”
I steal a final glance at Papa Rich, silently begging him to put a stop to this. But instead, he follows Scarecrow to the cross, which tells me all I need to know.
My wedding day is today. Right now. No escape.
7
Ember
* * *
“Good Lord, bless us on this day,” Papa Rich begins. He’s reading from a paper that Scarecrow has written for him. He’s reciting the same words that Scarecrow gave when marrying Christopher and me. “Brother Scarecrow and Sister Ember stand before the Almighty to be crowned under the union of matrimony.”
He looks at Scarecrow, who is leaning against his crutch, balancing on his one leg as dirty straw falls from his other pant leg.
“I give away this woman—my daughter—to Brother Scarecrow on this day with the blessing of God,” Papa Rich says. “I also ask forgiveness from God in my misdeeds and promising her hand to another. I was tempted by the devil and hope to make amends by correcting the wrong now.”
Papa Rich raises his arms up toward the ceiling of the chapel, which has now converted into my new home, and I see the sweat stains under his pits, reminding me of the man I’m about to marry. I don’t need to look at Scarecrow to know he’s in front of me. I can hear his heavy breathing. I can smell his horrific odor of body sweat and onion.
I glance to my left and see Holly and Violet are watching on with deep sadness in their eyes. I wonder what they’re thinking. Are they sad for me? Are they sad for themsleves? Why are they so sad… other than the fact that we are all going to be wives of the most disgusting and putrid man possible? Will these women become my friends or enemies? Will they like or hate me? Maybe they don’t want to share their husband with me, even though I don’t want to be wed to begin with. Maybe they will try to push me out the door just as Louisa had in New York.
Maybe I will never be welcomed by anyone.
Maybe the fate of the ghost of Hallelujah Junction is to be alone forever.
And yet… alone would be better than what is happening now.
I’m marrying Scarecrow.
I have no choice. Not now. Not ever.
This is my life.
Papa Rich looks down at the paper again and reads, “Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth. May you both walk under God as dutiful servants. We honor fire and ask that our union be warm and glowing with love in our hearts. We honor wind and ask that we sail through life safe and calm as in our Father's arms. We honor water to clean and soothe our relationship—that it may never thirst for love. With all the forces of the universe you created, we pray for harmony as we grow forever young together. Amen.”
It’s word for word from my wedding day with Christopher.
Christopher… my husband.
My old husband.
No longer. Never again. Goodbye, Christopher.
Scarecrow and Papa Rich both say, “Amen,” but I barely squeak out the word, as my throat feels like it’s closing.
My heart is shattering, because I truly believed Christopher and I would be wed for life. We gave our vows. We spoke the words.
But then, I remind myself that he was forced to marry me. He was forced to love me. He was forced to care for me after our rescue. He was forced in every aspect. He didn’t marry me of his own free will, and even though he said he’d watch over me after we were rescued… did he really have a choice? No. I forced that too.
Force.
This is my punishment for my part in his captivity. This is God’s way of righting our sins.
I have to marry Scarecrow.
Papa Rich opens his hands before us, and resting in his palm are two gold bands. I take the larger one, and Scarecrow takes the smaller. It’s the same ring I wore with Christopher that Papa Rich had taken from me on the plane. They are recycling the ring. The same ring but a different man.
“Brother Scarecrow.” Papa Rich slices through my thoughts. “Do you take Sister Ember to be your bride, to honor, to cherish, and to walk under God’s eyes together as one?”
“I do,” he says with a smile on his face that shows nearly every decayed tooth in his mouth.
“Sister Ember,” Papa Rich continues as I consider running outside and jumping off the ledge of the cliff and putting myself out of the misery I feel and know more will come. “Do you take Brother Scarecrow to be your husband, to honor, obey, and walk under God’s eyes together as one?”
“I do,” I somehow manage to say. I’m still not sure if it’s because the possibility of death by falling to my demise is still on the table.
The gold band slides onto my finger, and I allow the tears that had been threatening to shed cascade down my cheeks.
At least I have the ring. It will remind me of Christopher. It will keep him close to me in a small way.
I swipe at a tear. But is that what I want? Do I want a constant reminder of what I had but what never truly belonged to me to begin with?
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Run t
o the cliff now.
Run and jump.
Run and jump!
Death is better than—
Scarecrow leans forward and presses his chapped and scabby lips to mine. The kiss is brief, but not brief enough. I nearly vomit, but before I do, he mercifully pulls away, beats his cane on the floor, and lets out a hoot.
“Hot damn, I got me Wife Number Three!”
“It’s getting late,” Papa Rich says, acting as if he didn’t just marry his daughter off for the second time.
No big deal, right?
Just take a bride from one husband and have her marry a second.
“True,” Scarecrow says, studying me. “Out of respect for Richard being under the roof, we’ll wait to consummate the marriage when I return.”
His words are as if the angels from above flew down and granted me their grace.
Consummate the marriage…
The very thought….
Thank God for his decision.
I’ve survived some extremely harsh situations, but I don’t believe I can survive having Scarecrow inside me. I can’t have sex with the man. I’d die first.
“Holly will be sleeping with me tonight,” Scarecrow adds. He points to a corner of the room with a tattered curtain hanging. “Ember, that will be your room. Violet will assist you in finding bedding. We don’t have much, but I’m sure she can muster something up.” He then looks at Papa Rich. “I’m sure you can make do with your pack?”
Papa Rich nods. “Let’s get some sleep. We got a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”
Violet takes me by the hand. “I have an extra blanket from my bed for you, and I know we have some straw.” She then leans into me and whispers in my ear, “When they leave, we can take from Holly and Scarecrow’s bed, as they have extra blankets and pillows for him. I know Holly will share.”
I somehow get my feet to move, which oddly feels as if I’m floating. I’m not sure if I’m shocked by what just occurred, if I’m grieving over my new life, or if I’m … suicidal. The thought of the cliff outside still lingers in my mind.
