D
UNCAN FELT AS IF HE WERE DRIFTING IN A NIGHTMARE of pain. Once in a while someone dripped water into his mouth, and he tried to remember to swallow. Fever raged through his veins like a freight train loaded with hot coals. Again and again small hands wiped the sweat from his face.
The fog cleared for a time, and he managed to open his eyes. He was in a room made from logs with the bark left on the wood. There was no sign of the old woman who’d helped him, but the room was warm and someone slept on the floor a few feet from his bed. She looked little more than a child, with wild hair the color of dark rich earth.
Duncan remembered someone touching him, cleaning his wound, washing him with cold water when the fever raged. He drifted back to sleep, thankful that whoever she was, she was near.
One time, deep in darkness, he thought he heard the old woman shouting orders, but he didn’t know or care what she said. There was movement in the room and the sound of someone sweeping with a slow rhythm that reminded him of the sound the water makes along the Gulf Coast. Without windows he had no idea whether it was day or night.
When he woke again the door was open, and he saw that it was daylight beyond. The girl with the wild brown hair was helping him drink. She had a gentle touch and huge sad eyes. Saint’s eyes, Duncan thought.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
“What’s your name?”
She didn’t answer, but he saw a blink of fear flash in her eyes. Somehow in her world the idea of someone asking her name meant danger.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in Spanish, then repeated the words in English.
She still didn’t respond.
A big man with an arm that swung useless at his side banged his way into the room. He carried a load of firewood in his good arm that few men with both arms could have managed. He was dressed in work clothes but wore a gun low on his hip. After making little effort to put the wood in the bend, he dropped it in a pile and stared at the girl.
Duncan watched him with half-closed eyes for a few minutes. The big man took a step toward the girl and raised his hand as if to pat her head, but she slipped to the other side of the bed. The big hand moved again as if they were playing a game. She countered, keeping as far away from him as she could in the small room. The man laughed, but Duncan could tell from the girl’s face that she wasn’t enjoying the exchange. She didn’t seem overly afraid of him, more bothered.
When the girl tripped over the firewood trying to stay out of his reach, he moved away as if giving her time to straighten. He stepped to the foot of Duncan’s bed and looked at him.
Duncan opened his eyes, hoping the man would stop his game of stalking the girl if he knew someone was watching.
He seemed disappointed to find Duncan still alive. While the girl picked up the wood, the man moved closer to Duncan as if the girl were no more important to him than a kitten. “Don’t talk to the girl.” His voice was a low growl, as though at one point in his life he’d screamed until his vocal cords gave way. “If you do, you’ll get her in trouble. And don’t touch her. No one is allowed to touch her, not even me, though I know she’s waiting for the time when I do.”
Duncan nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off the big man. He’d seen outlaws with the same kind of dead eyes this guy had. Dark, cold as an open grave.
The girl moved to the fireplace and began stoking the fire as if the room were cold and not already warm. She didn’t look at the man, but he glanced in her direction, keeping her in his sight.
“What’s your name?” Duncan asked, not sure he liked the way the man glared at the girl.
Both men were silent as the girl hurried out of the room with a bucket.
The big man watched her go, then seemed to relax his guard when he turned back to Duncan. “Not that it’s any of your business, Ranger, but my name’s Ramon. I don’t figure you’ll be around long enough to get to know anyone, not even the girl.” The big man moved a step closer. “She don’t say nothing, but she knows, just like I do, that you’re a corpse still breathing.”
Duncan gave no reaction to Ramon’s words. “My wound’s not that bad. I think now the fever’s gone, I might pull through this.” He knew Ramon didn’t care, but he wanted to keep the man talking, possibly make a friend if he could.
“It ain’t that wound that will kill you, it’s that ranger badge you were wearing when crazy old Toledo found you. She’ll make a pretty penny turning you over, but she has to get you in good enough shape to die. Nobody wants to hang a man out of his head with fever, and if she handed over a corpse, she wouldn’t get a tenth the money she’ll get if you’re alive and can dance at the end of a rope for a while.”
“She’s not turning me over,” Duncan said, as if he believed his own words. “She asked if I’d do her a favor. When I do whatever she wants, she’ll let me go on my way and I’m heading straight to Texas.”
Ramon laughed. “Well, if I were you I’d get real worried if she asked you to step outside. Knowing Toledo, she’d even hand you a gun just to make it more interesting when the outlaws come to claim what they bought. And they will come, Ranger, mark my words.”
Duncan glanced around the room. Not only his clothes seemed to be missing, so were his guns. “Any chance you’d get a message for me across the border? Let them know I’m still alive. It would be worth a double eagle to me if you could.”
Ramon shook his head. “If she found out, she’d turn me out at best; at worst, she’d beat me like she beats that girl now and then. Crazy old Toledo ties the little creature up outside at the hitching post so everyone can see like it was a show we’d enjoy, then she beats her with whatever’s handy until the girl passes out. Some say that when little Anna first came here she’d cry after she was beat, but I’ve been here six years and I’ve never heard her make a sound.”
“Why would anyone hurt that child?” Duncan remembered how the big guy had teased her and asked, “Is she your kin?”
Ramon grinned, showing several gaps where teeth had once been. “I’m a mixture of about everything. My dad was a buffalo soldier at Fort Davis, my mother a native caught stealing food. She claimed her mother was a white woman and her dad a Mexican rancher up near Santa Fe, but I doubt it was true. She was a woman threaded together with lies.”
Duncan wondered if the big man before him hadn’t inherited his mother’s traits.
“I tell you of my mixed blood so that you’ll see how someone like me would know the value of little Anna. She’s pureblood.”
Ramon sat down on the chair next to the bed and leaned back as if he’d been invited to stay a spell on an evening porch. “The girl’s kin to Toledo,” he volunteered, without being asked. “Their blood runs all the way back to Spain. I think I heard one of the cooks say that the old witch is the girl’s great-aunt. Something happened to the kid’s family and they shipped her here, having no idea that Toledo would hate her own kin.”
He shook his head. “The old woman don’t seem to need a reason to beat the girl. Once, when Anna hadn’t been here more than a few years, she tried to run away. Toledo pulled off her shirt looking for any bud of womanhood, saying she’d marry her off and the child would be someone else’s worry. When she found only a child’s body, she stripped the girl completely and used a whip for the first time.
“The old woman was so exhausted by the time she’d completed the job, I had to carry her inside, and then I went out and covered the child with blankets so she wouldn’t freeze. Her back was covered in blood. Toledo had promised she’d beat her with the whip every time she ran away. The girl never ran again, and Toledo went back to using a stick. It makes welts, but it won’t kill her.”
“Why’d you care if she lived? You didn’t care enough to stop the beating.” Duncan had seen something in Ramon’s eyes when he glared at the girl. Not caring, more like ownership.
Ramon grinned. “I’ m the one who caught her when she ran. Toledo says I can have her every night if I want after she gets her monthly bleeds. The old woman wants to breed her, claims she’s no more than a cow who should produce a kid a year once she’s able. Toledo says she’ll tie the girl to my bed at night until she fills with child, and then I can’t touch her until she gives birth.”
The big man puffed up. “But I don’t think we’ll have to tie her. I think once she gets used to me, she’ll stay. I may have a worthless arm, but I’d be better for her than most around here. Once I break her from running from me, she might even take to my touch.”
When Duncan raised an eyebrow, Ramon quickly added, “I try to help her out when I can. It ain’t my job to bring in the wood, but I do and I make sure she eats sometimes even when she doesn’t want to. I’m the nearest she’s got to a friend around the place. If it wasn’t for me she’d be locked in this room every time Toledo leaves the place, but I let her out. I watch her to make sure she doesn’t run, but I let her go about her day, doing her chores.”
Duncan fought to keep his face free from emotion. “Why would Toledo want the girl to have children if she hates the sight of her so much?”
“I don’t know. Don’t care. All I want is her. Now and then I brush my hand across her accidental-like to see if she’s developing up top. I’m beginning to think she won’t, or if she does they’ll be small, and that’s all right with me. I’ll still take her. I only got one hand that works, so she don’t have to have much up top to satisfy me.” He laughed and wiggled his eyebrows as if sharing a secret, then continued, “Toledo did say once that when the babies come she’ll have a wet nurse take care of them so the girl can breed faster. She says if I keep her well rounded I’ll have less duties around the place and if the girl bears three brats that live the first three years we’re together, Toledo promised she’d double my salary. I’m thinking if we go to six, I’ll be expecting another double.”
“What kind of place is this?” Duncan had the feeling he’d landed in hell.
“Toledo’s run a roadhouse for more years than folks can remember.” Ramon seemed to think he needed to answer the question. “In the front left side, we got drinks, food, and a poker game going most all the time. There’s beds for rent upstairs, with or without a woman to serve as a bed warmer, if you know what I mean. We get all kind of travelers, mostly men running from the law and drifters looking for trouble. On the right side, Toledo has goods to trade with anyone who comes to the door. Blankets, supplies, hardtack.” He rubbed his face with his one useful hand. “I figured out a long time ago that what she really sells in here is information. She goes out and collects information about who is where as she peddles her goods. If anyone wants to find someone lost, they come here.”
“Why are you telling me this? You think she wants to sell something to the rangers?”
Ramon shook his head. “No. I’m just talking. With Little One running out of the room every time I walk in and Toledo only talking to me when she yells, I guess I just wanted to talk for a change. Anything I tell you don’t matter. You’ll be dead in a day or two anyway. Even if you thought of running and were able, she’s got more guards than me about the place. You wouldn’t make it out of the yard.”
The big man stood and started out of the room, favoring his left leg.
“How’d you get hurt?” Duncan asked, hoping to learn more about this place.
“Wagon turned over when I was running guns. I caught my arm in the wheel and twisted it all up. Broke my leg, but it didn’t heal right.” He looked at Duncan with his cold eyes. “But don’t you think I can’t stop you if you think of leaving.” He raised his good arm. “There ain’t but one way out of this room, and I’m on the other side of the door on guard. One hit with this fist and you’ll be out cold. Toledo put you in the girl’s room ’cause there’s no escape, and she put me on guard because nothing gets past me.”
“I believe you, friend,” Duncan said, thinking of Lewt Paterson in Austin, who always called a troublemaker his friend a moment before he ended the problem. “Mind my asking why you stay?”
Ramon shrugged. “I got nowhere else to go. I killed four people in that wagon accident, and word got around that I was drunk when it happened. One of the men in the wagon was the ringleader’s son. He let out word that if I ever came within shooting distance of him or any of his men I’d be dead, so I crossed the border and found this place.”
The girl came back into the room carrying a tray of soup. She didn’t look at either of them as she moved across to the stool beside the bed.
Ramon’s glare followed her every step. “It ain’t so bad here. I get regular meals, the work’s not hard, and I got the promise of some fun coming soon when she turns into a woman.” He walked to the door. “I’m locking you in. You ain’t in any shape to move anyway, but remember I don’t want you talking to the girl.” He grinned. “Not that she’d answer you if you did. She’s been slapped around enough to know that it’s not her place in this world to say nothing.”
Duncan heard the bolt slide closed just after Ramon stepped out of the room. He relaxed back against the pillows. In the fever of the first day, he’d thought he was safe and someone was taking care of him. Now he knew he was in a prison and the nurse was just another prisoner.
He looked at the girl Ramon had called Anna. She would one day be a beautiful woman if she lived. He’d seen women begin having children when not fully grown. By the time they’d had three or four they looked forty even though they were still in their teens. Then, year by year each baby seemed to drain more life out of them. He wondered if Anna knew the life her great-aunt had planned for her. Nights with a bull of a man. Carrying a child every year without being allowed the joy of raising it. The girl would go mad, if she wasn’t already.
She stirred the soup and tasted a sip to make sure it wasn’t too hot, then offered him a spoonful.
“Thank you, Anna,” he whispered, not wanting his voice to reach the door in case Ramon was listening.