but to bend at the waist. Brook swung her arms backward trying to loosen his grip, but he only pushed harder.
“Pick them up.”
Sobbing, she did as he said. Jase stuck his other hand in front of her face and she placed the rings in his palm. Yanking her up by the hair, he once more pulled her to him. Her face was scarlet, and her eyes stung with tears of pain and humiliation.
“You know what? You and me are gonna get to know each other real well. In fact, I’m gonna fuck your brains out. If I’m feeling generous, we might even pass you around. First though…” He moved her away reluctantly, and pocketed the rings. “I have to deal with these idiots and wait for the boss to call. But then,” he leaned over, putting his face close to hers, “we’ll have some fun.”
“What’s he mean, pass her around?” The scrawny girl in the doorway came out of her lethargy and frowned at the men. Her gaze shifted to Pete. “What the hell does he mean, Pete?”
“Stay out of this, Gina,” Jase warned. “It ain’t your concern.”
She flipped her long hair over one shoulder, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I just asked a question is all, Jase.”
“Yea? Well, mind your own fucking business,” Jase growled. Gina looked at Pete, but he lowered his eyes and said nothing in her defense.
Hiking his pants, Jase turned to Benny. “Put this rich bitch in Pete and Gina’s room and drive the bus up beside the window. We don’t want her leaving before the party even starts.”
“Jase,” Gina whined, twining a twist of hair around a finger like a little girl. “Can’t you put her in your room? Leave our room alone.”
“Gina, don’t fuck with me.”
“Come on, Gina. We can sleep on the couch. It pulls out, you know.” Pete's tone was placating.
The girl continued to glare at Jase, and even shoved Brook as Benny led her past. “You better keep your fucking hands off my boyfriend if you know what’s good for you,” she hissed.
Brook was stunned. “I don’t want your boyfriend; I don’t want any of this,” she gasped. Quietly, she continued, “Please help me get out of here. Please.”
Gina smirked, and leaned against the wall.
Brook resisted, but she soon found herself in a tiny bedroom that was filled with a dank, chill air. There was a mattress on the floor with sheets and blankets wadded up in the middle. Half-eaten bags of chips sat around, as did a few partial cups of liquid. “I need to use the restroom,” Brook said before Benny could close the door.
Outside, a vehicle growled to life; Brook assumed it was the bus Jase had mentioned. Benny glanced at the window and then across the hall. “Okay,” he said. “But I go in with you.”
“I’ll go in with her,” Gina said angrily and shoved past Benny to push Brook into the dinky bathroom.
In the bathroom, Brook quickly used the toilet and pulled her pants up. She turned to Gina and whispered, near panic, “Please help me. You’ve got to help me.”
Gina pushed her hair away from her face and peered into the mirror, ignoring Brook completely.
Brook tugged on the girl’s sleeve and pleaded, “Please! Get me out of here. Don’t you know what they’re going to do to me?”
Gina turned toward Brook, her eyes wide, and said, “Oh, my, god!”
Chapter 4
Lance lifted the kettle from the stove top and poured hot water into an enamel pan. Using the cabin’s hand pump, he added filtered river water to temper it. Next, he shook a little sand into the pots and scrubbed them. He then washed, dried, and put away his dishes. Carrying the pan outside, he dumped the dishwater onto his compost pile.
He used the rest of the hot water from the kettle to wash his face and hands, drying his long beard vigorously, before changing into clean clothes. Pulling his backpack from its hook, he loaded it with his latest steampunk jewelry, a wad of cash from the jar above the counter, and several bungee cords. Grabbing his jacket, he walked out the door, securing it behind him.
It was cold as he trudged down the steep terrain toward the road. Still, he enjoyed the hike. Breathing in the crisp air, he looked up at the swollen clouds gathering over Mt.Hazel, hiding her jagged peak in mists of gray.
Slightly over an hour later he came to the camouflaged lean-to in which he housed his ten-speed and a lightweight travois. He walked his bike the remaining distance to the road and hopped on.
Leaning over the handlebars and picking up speed, Lance felt the brisk wind freeze his face and enjoyed the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it thumped reassuringly against his chest. He had never been in better physical shape.
Surprising a deer as it grazed along the side of the road, he braked gently and watched as it bounded into the trees. An expression of pleasure on his face, he turned his attention back to the road into town.
Kicking up a little gravel, he finally pulled into the parking lot of High Top Outpost on the edge of Haylieville and steered his bike around the side of the log building where he locked it to the rack. He checked his watch, hastened to the pay phone on the outside wall, and dialed a number from memory. After completing his call, he walked around to the front of the High Top, his boots thumping on the rustic wood of the porch. Stepping into the store, he looked around and spotted Denise behind the counter, bent over the screen of her laptop. He pulled his backpack off and set it on the polished wood countertop.
“Hey, Lance,” she called, getting up from the stool. She walked to the register and opened it. “I sold five of your necklaces and two of your sculptures. That steampunk stuff has really caught on.”
Lance nodded as he approached the counter. Denise smiled when she handed him the cash from the sales. He didn’t bother to count the money before stuffing it into the front zippered pocket of his backpack. Silently, he pulled out his newest creations and laid them on the gleaming surface for her inspection.
“Oh, these are beautiful,” she exclaimed. “You do such good work. Prices marked on them?”
“Yeah,” he answered gruffly. Denise took them back to the area with her laptop and began to enter them into her log. As she worked, she chatted with him although she knew it would be a relatively one-sided conversation. Lance wasn’t much of a talker.
“Emily just took a group out,” she said as she removed his stickers and tagged the items with Outpost labels. “She’ll be sorry she missed you.”
Denise and her sister, Emily, had transformed the shop into a thriving business. Both in their mid-thirties, the ladies shared a sharp sense for business and had turned their passions into profit. Emily gave guided horseback rides on the mountain trails while Denise ran the rest of the business, a shop for tourists who longed to spend their cash on authentic handmade RockyMountain crafts. The combination was oddly successful. Emily dealt with the stables and trails, and Denise handled the shop and the scheduling. They were mountain women, a little rough around the edges, but capable, honest and no-nonsense. They tolerated Lance’s quiet reclusive ways and allowed him to park his beat-up old pickup truck in their back lot in return for a modest monthly sum. They never questioned why he wanted to leave it there or asked him where he lived. Early on they realized he guarded his privacy like a vault, same as a lot of Colorado folks. He certainly wasn’t the only eccentric soul they encountered. Lance in turn did not pry into their affairs, valuing their privacy as they did his. Indeed, the man hardly spoke when he came in.
“Well, that ought to do it.” She opened a glass case with her key and hung the necklaces inside. “I think we’re due for another snowfall any day.”
“It’ll rain first,” Lance remarked.
Denise handed him a written receipt for his items, and he tucked it into his shirt pocket.
“You’ve got some great pieces, Lance. We get good comments on them.”
Lance nodded his thanks before walking to the cooler and extracting a bottle of water. When he reached into his pocket for some change, she waved him away. “It’s on the house,” she said. He drank half the bottle before he reached the door and stepped outside.
