Dolly turned to face him, her large breasts swaying as she moved. ‘Some, but not terrible. Kind of a steady ache.’
‘I hit my leg with the ax one time. Not the sharp end, the other end. That hurt a lot.’
‘I bet it did.’
‘I cried and cried.’
‘I would too.’
‘You’re not crying now.’
‘Well, I probably will be in a few minutes,’ Dolly said.
‘You’re supposed to,’ Daniel said solemnly. ‘It helps it go away.’
When the water was ready, Dolly slipped off her panties, wincing, and laid face down on the bed. There was a narrow, ragged furrow across her left buttock.
Examining the wound, Annalee said, ‘Doesn’t look bad at all. But you appear to have lost a tattoo.’
‘My cherry,’ Dolly groaned.
Annalee giggled. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘It was my first and my favorite. Made me feel young and salty, know what I mean?’
Dolly’s buttocks clenched when Annalee touched the wound with the clean, wet towel. Daniel watched, fascinated.
‘Where’d you get it?’ Annalee said, hoping to distract her.
‘Going over the wall,’ Dolly said, her voice tight. ‘Wasn’t a tower guard, though – it was one of those bull bitches off the yard.’
‘No, I mean the tattoo.’
‘Oh. Had it done when I was about your age. In Oklahoma.’
‘That where you grew up?’
‘Yup. Near Carver, down in the southeast corner. In the thirties, that was still outlaw country. Never forget my first day in school the teacher told us, “If you come runnin’ and tell me about somebody doing bad, I’ll give him a fair switchin’ ’cause he did wrong, but I’ll
‘Well, you still have the stem and two green leaves,’ Annalee said absently as she wiped away blood.
‘Had a gal friend in the joint, Doris Kincaid, who said it wasn’t so bad if they got your cherry as long as they didn’t get the pit.’
‘What did you do down there in Carver?’
‘Mostly robbed banks. I rode with the first motorcycle gang in the country, the Bandits of Vermilion. I mean, we had class. We were like family. It wasn’t like it is now. Bikers these days got no heart. Take drugs and beat on the weak, dress grubby and act stupid – most of ’em are defectives. Look how they treat their women! You don’t treat
‘What’s vermilion,’ Daniel asked.
‘Brilliant red,’ Annalee answered.
Dolly lifted her head and looked back at Daniel. ‘We wore these long vermilion scarves,’ she explained. ‘Looked good.’
‘Did you kill people?’
Annalee cut in on Daniel’s question, telling Dolly, ‘I’m going to pack this with antibiotic ointment – it’s all we have – and then just tape a gauze pad over it. How’s that sound?’
‘You’re the doc,’ Dolly said.
‘Did you kill people?’ Daniel repeated impatiently.
‘Dammit Daniel!’ Annalee snapped. ‘Don’t harass us during surgery.’
‘It’s a fair enough question,’ Dolly said, sounding more resigned than irritated. ‘We were bank robbers, Daniel, not killers. We had guns, but we never loaded them. We did have to hurt a few people, but we didn’t like to do that – it was a matter of honor among us never to cause anyone pain if we could help it. That was my boyfriend’s idea, never loading the guns.’
‘Where’s your friend now?’
‘He’s dead. Wrecked his motorcycle on a frosty road.’
Daniel didn’t say anything.
Annalee ripped off two strips of adhesive tape and secured the gauze pad. ‘There it is,’ she said to Dolly. ‘I don’t have an M.D., but I’d say you’ll pull through.’
‘I reckon,’ Dolly said, her voice muffled against the pillow.
‘Let me see if I can dig out some panties to help hold the bandage.’ Annalee gave Dolly’s unwounded buttock a light pat as she rose and headed for the bedroom.
Daniel stepped closer to the bed and put his small hand on Dolly’s back, gently rubbing.
