I spit at Roy again, and he leaves in a huff, stomping over toTitus. Breathe now, I tell myself. Just breathe and think of an escape. Theguards spread the wool blanket on the ground and open their dinner pails. Titusbelches often, giving me an easy reference point for judging distance. Soundwaves form a picture in my head, showing me where Titus is seated. He’sseventeen feet away, facing south, and Roy sits across from him at a rightangle. Their meal smells strongly of liverwurst and pickles, and I test the branchas they eat. It’s not as solid near the middle—the bark feels bug-ridden, asthough termites have gnawed through a few spots.
Roy gets up from the blanket and walks over. Sweet blazes. Getaway, you stinking louse. I lift my chin in defiance when he squats down by myhip. “Got some bottled pears here. Awful sweet.”
I feel him twist around. “Toss me your knife, Titus.”
Knife?
Titus throws the blade to Roy. It hits the ground, bouncestwice and comes to a stop. The pears slosh back and forth as Roy spears them inthe jar.
“Try some,” he murmurs, running a piece of the ripe, drippingfruit along my bottom lip.
I shake my head and move as far from him as my cuffed arm willallow.
Roy laughs like I’ve made a good joke. “See that, Titus? Shedon’t want any.”
“Women never know what they want,” Titus replies, rising to hisfeet.
He’s tall. Six two? Six three? And the heel of his boot squeakswhen he walks.
“Come on, Roy. You’ll have your fun after we’ve rinsed outthese dinner pails. Don’t want them attracting vermin.”
Too late. The vermin are already here.
“All right, all right. You sound like my mother, Titus.”
“Only I’m not as ugly.”
“No argument there,” Roy says, chucking me under the chin witha callused thumb. “She could scare the stripes off a skunk.”
He walks over to the spot where he and Titus ate. I hear himrub the knife in the snow, and toss it on the blanket. Then Roy picks up hispail and follows Titus, and his squeaking boot, to the creek. As soon as themen leave, I begin to work on the juniper branch—sitting on it, pulling, evenhanging from the thing with my full weight. Damnation! I thought the branchwould break at once, but it’s refusing to cooperate.
Lifting my face, I listen for Titus and Roy. They’re tellingobscene jokes and dumping out the unwanted bits of food from their dinnerspails. I stop and rest after another attempt at breaking the branch. The twoguards have moved on to rinsing out the pails. Given their overall lack ofcleanliness, I can’t imagine it will take much time.
This juniper has my begrudging admiration. Who knew it couldwithstand so much? My wrist hurts like hell with all the jerking and pulling,but I keep at the branch. A few minutes later, Titus tells Roy he’s going for awalk and strolls off into the wilderness. Roy heads back up the hill. Horrors. Itsounds as though he’s unhooking his belt. The clinking of the metal bit makesmy heart pound in the worst possible way.
Hurry up, infernal tree. Break!
“Be there soon, darlin’,” Roy calls. “Don’t worry.”
He stops some thirty feet south, and I detect the light splashingof liquid. Is Roy making water? Yes, I believe so. With his back to me if myjudgment is correct.
Crack!
The branch splits in half sending me sprawling to the snowyearth.
“What was that?” Roy yells.
I scramble forward to the blanket, snow scraping my fingers,and grab the knife. It doesn’t have the perfect balance of a throwing blade,but I still like my chances.
“Put that down, sweetheart,” he says, moving closer. “You don’twant to hurt no one.”
Oh yes, Roy. I really do.
Rising to my feet, I judge him to be at ten paces. His pantsmust be around his ankles, since he’s shuffling awkwardly. I put a mentaltarget on the spot I want to strike, step back, lift my arm at an angle, andthrow. Hard. Roy sounds like a slaughterhouse on butchering day. Except thatwould be an insult to the pigs.
“You cut me,” he screams. “You really cut me. Help, Titus! I’mbleeding.”
“What’s all the ruckus?” The other guard crashes through thetrees and hurries over. “It’s just a flesh wound. Stop causing such a fuss.”
Making himself scarce, my eye. Titus was right there, ready towatch.
“I’ll be a eunuch,” Roy sobs. “Look at all the blood.”
“Pull yourself together, man. It’s just a hell of a nick.”
“How’ll I explain it to Lucille? She’ll kill me.”
I hear all this as I’m running away. Actually, running might betoo strong a word. I am walking quickly, hands extended, bumping into every blastedboulder, shrub, and snow bank in Northern Colorado.
“Rip off a piece of that blanket and wrap it around the wound,”Titus tells Roy. “Where’s the woman?”
“How should I know, you moron?” Roy answers. “I’m busy herebleeding to death. Anyway, she can’t be far.”
Immediately after this comment, I hear Titus sprinting throughthe brush and increase my pace, tripping over a log several steps later. Hereaches my spot and slams his fist into my jaw. Deus misereatur! My backtooth cracks and the bones in my face feel like they’ve caught fire. I can’tbreathe properly and fall backward, over the same damn log but in the oppositedirection. Titus squats by me and holds my body down with one arm, punching meagain. Hot blood runs from my nose and fills my mouth. I nearly choke on it.
Thunderation…
I come to under the wagon tarp in a haze of pain and wish I’dremained unconscious. Lying across the filthy-smelling blankets, I test themovement of my jaw several times. Bruised, enormous in size, but not broken. Myleft eye is swollen shut, though, and my ribs ache, like I was kicked a fewtimes after passing out. I can’t bend one of my fingers. Curses but it throbs!Must have been stomped on, too.
Roy is moaning loudly from his seat next to Titus, and I can’thelp thinking that my injuries are worth his present torment. Roy may stillhave the inclination to molest, but his equipment won’t
