Kings of the Wild Frontier – Part Three
"Take second best
Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess-
I will deliver,
You know I'm a forgiver."
'Personal Jesus' – Johnny Cash
The sky was turning a dark-blue tint, and evening was descending over the small town nestled into the trees and dirt of the Carolina lowlands. People bustled home, and one could hear the tinny sound of the piano playing from the ground floor of The Nugget. The air wrapped itself like a thick, dewy blanket over the world. Everything seemed to move more slowly at an hour like this – when the shadows lengthened and stretched towards evening.
Those on the main street of the town found themselves passing a man in grey with an exceptional beard. Beside him, a woman with hair the color of blood, poppies, and Red Sorrels in the sun stepped carefully. The man caught the eyes of passersby as they went, and tipped the bowler sitting on top of his head with a smile. There was conviviality in him that was not present in the woman.
"Ah! Here's our destination," the man declared brightly to his companion.
A grand old courthouse stood at the end of the main road in the tiny town. It was an imposing building with a clock affixed over the main entrance, and the pair stood in front of the building for half a beat as the clock chimed six times. Bystanders watched as the gray-beard led the red-head - at least twenty years his junior- up the slanting stone steps and into the gaping structure. Though odd, the townspeople would later admit that the gentleman was certainly dapper after a fashion. He was even – well, pleasant if not focused and duty-bound.
The woman in blue had looked agitated at best. If she'd been a cat, she would have been hissing at anyone who got too close. To her credit, there was a certain resolve in her steps. Anyone with eyes could tell that something was peculiar about the couple, but to her credit the young woman held the man's arm as gently as she could.
She felt the German nudge her softly in the shin with his foot, and it brought her back to the business at hand. She was in the courthouse, and there was the magistrate and his wife – who was serving as a witness to the ceremony. In an attempt to calm herself down, she'd been mentally repeating the words 'cargo, annulment, ruse' to herself over and over like a promise.
At the slight impact, and in momentary shock, her eyes darted towards the doctor's. She caught the wary gaze leveled at her, and she cleared her throat. The air seemed too thick, her tongue was too thick, too…but there were the words that she had to say now. The judge had asked her something, hadn't he….?
"Paula? You'll need to repeat after me…"
To his credit, the judge was a fatherly figure who was efficient and apt in his administration of the necessary words and phrases. She guessed that both he and the doctor were about the same age. How must this look to the couple, both of whom were much older than her? Certainly, young women married older men all the time. However, even from the casual vantage point of the average observer this match didn't make much sense.
"O-of course," she managed to stutter, hauling consciousness back to the present once more. ""I do solemnly declare that I do not know of any lawful impediment why I, Paula, may not be joined in matrimony to...to…"
It was simply impossible – to actually speak the words became too complicated. Her body would not permit them to leave her gaping mouth.
Waves of heat swelled around her, and she felt herself burning up as the bones and rods of her corset seemed to constrict her ribcage like the tightening coils of a snake. She was in hell. She was burning, and unable to save herself.
The world started to go dark and blur at the edges – there was nothing left but falling to the floor like a brick. She did so amid the alarmed gasps of the judge's wife who was standing next to her. Schultz made a good faith effort to catch Paula before she hit, but she was nearly as tall as he was. In the end, he'd lost his footing and they both went down. The last thing Paula remembered before reality – the world – everything left her was the bounty hunter cursing softly in German as she cursed herself for being such a tall, awkward thing.
She came to thanks to some smelling salts kept on hand for just such occasions by the judge's wife. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw what might have been the bristles of a good horse-hair brush…but then the young woman realized that she was laying on the doctor's shoulder, staring up sideways straight into his beard. Paula jerked upright, and with considerable struggle tried to lift herself.
"Courage, Paula," Schultz chortled, a bit unsure as he helped his companion to her feet.
She leaned against him trying to regain her balance, mentally noting her wobbling legs with some ire. It would be nice, she thought, to not be betrayed by her body on what felt like a constant basis.
"It will all be over quite soon," the doctor whispered conspiratorially. The would-be bride nodded, and swallowed hard doing her best to regain what little composure she had left.
At these words, the judge and his wife exchanged a puzzled look. Of course, Paula didn't give a damn at the level of discomfort the scene was causing anyone. This was anything but a cakewalk for her, and she didn't care who knew it.
The ceremony – the short liturgy of words and vows - ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the once-Elizabeth-now-Paula was proud of herself for not flinching at the chaste kiss Dr. Schultz placed at the corner of her lips when the judge made his final pronouncement that they were now indeed 'man' and 'wife.'
On her way out of the courthouse, Paula realized that she'd lost the Magnolia blossom tucked behind her ear when she'd fallen. She sighed a little sadly. It was not like her to get wistful about such a small detail – she'd been cleaning a boarding house for the last few months, hiding out after killing her husband in cold blood.
Now, she was properly on the run.
The time for wondering about the whereabouts of her stupid lost flower was…not now. However, it hadn't been altogether unpleasant – to be clean, and to be aware of the lovely scent near her. It was then that she realized she was not simply summoning up the memory of the Magnolia blossom. She caught the unmistakable whiff of the flower. Confused, she searched the folds of her sleeve and expansive skirts.
"Aha! Looking for this?" she heard the doctor say as he proudly pointed to the lapel of his jacket. Resting nicely in the buttonhole was the blossom. He'd saved it – the doctor had saved the blossom.
Following her eyes, Schultz grinned.
"Well, it seemed a terrible waste to just leave it on the floor," he explained with the casual wave of his hand.
On the way back to the hotel, the doctor and his wife were completely quiet. Paula wanted time to mull the situation over, and the thudding of their footfalls seemed a companionable noise to accompany the cogs that were whirring 'round in her brain. For his part, Schultz shot furtive, worried glances at his companion every now and then. He silently chided himself as he pulled thoughtfully at his beard, realizing not for the first time that people who observed the two of them really would think him a…how did the blasted woman put it?...a lecherous old man. Still, it was not unheard of for young women to marry men older than themselves – even much older. And why should it concern him what everyone else thought? It certainly had never stopped him before…
"We should leave early tomorrow at first light," he finally got out. "The sooner we can turn northward, the better."
They walked up the street a bit further before Paula stopped in her tracks.
"Fainting back there – it isn't you. Not really."
"That's a pity," Schultz replied, pausing momentarily before turning his face towards her. "If I ever go back into dentistry full-time, I was considering matrimony as a method of putting my patients under. It seems to me that it would be more effective than iodine and whiskey."
It was an awful joke, Schultz knew. However, the tension between them was so palpable – he'd have given up his trigger finger just to break the discomfort. It had occurred to him in the courthouse – perhaps for the first time – that this was, in essence, his first marriage, fraudulent thought it was. He'd had sweethearts back home, yes! Even long-term love affairs…but he'd managed to remain a confirmed old bachelor, taking part in the family practice and even traveling with a circus for a while as a dashing marksman on horseback. Of course, he'd been younger then. More hale and, dare he think it, more attractive? This was simply a contract that would allow for them to travel together with few questions from outsiders.
He would get the girl to Ohio.
He would collect the money he was promised by the Widow Stoddard.
He would be on his way, das Ende.
But there – there! - was that brave little half-smile cracked around the edges again that made his heart speed up just the tiniest bit…
Schultz cleared his throat, doing his best to maintain an appropriate air of fraternal concern. He was about to suggest that they have a bite to eat together – perhaps discuss plans concerning their trip over some good beer. Did the woman drink beer? He didn't even know that -
But then he noticed the crowd of a dozen men or so around the outside of The Nugget, torches in hand.
The doctor pulled Paula around the corner of the mercantile store they were about to pass, and tucked her securely behind him in the shadows of the oncoming night.
"What? What's going on?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"I'm not completely certain, but it seems like our wedding reception may have started without us," Schultz mused with a growl. Paula bit her lip, and peeked around the building, navigating around the protective arm currently drawn across her.
Less than a block ahead of them, the woman could clearly see what appeared to be a gathering of men, guns, horses, and…shouting. Lots of shouting. Straining to catch any snippet of conversation, Paula held her breath and tried to isolate the voices. The doctor must have been doing the same – he remained motionless against the building's wall.
Suddenly a tall figure in a long black coat stepped into the middle of the crowd, and fired a shot from his rifle into the air. At the thunderous blast, all the men - who had been swarming like angry wasps seconds earlier – went completely silent and turned their attention to a lanky coat-swaddled arm extended towards the sky, still pointing towards the moon with a long, trusty and well-managed Baker. It almost looked to Paula like a thin, oddly built obélisque. The control evidently wielded in that singular motion was both terrifying and impressive. The torches illuminated a large hat tilting upwards to expose a sun-browned face with sharp features and black button eyes. The light flickered off the small metal star pinned to the shooter's jacket, indicating him as an officer of the law. Paula's stomach dropped, and the gun's owner looked out at the crowd, seemingly enjoying the momentary spell.
"Listen up!" the man yelled, in something between a declaration and a greeting.
"We've all come out for the same reason! If – IF - the murdering bitch really is in town, we'll need to organize several parties in order to ferret her ass out! Now, Jonsey'll take five men towards the east side of town and search the buildings down there. Richardson will take the north side with some fellas, and root through the stables and the fields on Old Man Hutchin's farm…"
Paula breathlessly listened, her heart thudding in her ears so loudly she could barely make out the sheriff's words. How? How had they found her?
"I am guessing that your exodus from Camden doubled with that of Widow Stoddard must have caused a bigger stir than we anticipated," Schultz said quietly, never turning his eyes away from the scene.
"But…why would a whole host of people come after me like this?" she breathed. "There must be at least fifteen of them."
"You are the current sensation," the doctor explained.
"It's not every day that there is a formerly well-to-do female fugitive on the loose – who has a price of $2,000 on her head."
"TWO-thousand dollars?"
"They raised the reward," Schultz managed with a smile as he watched the gathering warily.
"You're quite the big fish to fry now."
"Lovely. Well, I can't run very fast in this dress – the corset won't let me catch my breath," Paula continued.
"Still, we've got to get to the…Doctor? Doctor Schultz, what ARE you doing?"
While she'd been momentarily pondering how to get to the livery stable for a quick escape, the doctor had taken her arm again, adjusted the bowler on his head, and started into the street.
"Tensions are running a little high…" he said, turning his head to her slightly as they walked towards the front entrance of The Nugget.
"Don't say a thing. Not a thing. And no sudden movements. Let me do the talking, mein lieber."
"You can't mean to try to get past all those men!"
"Ssht-ssht-ssht," Schultz turned briefly, putting his finger up to her face to emphasize the point.
"This is where you make a decision Fräulein," the doctor continued.
"Either you trust me, or you don't."
Paula took a deep breath, and shut her eyes momentarily before nodding at the doctor to continue their walk. The sounds from the group of men grew louder, and Paula couldn't take her eyes off of all the action in the crowd. The sheriff still seemed to be organizing different search parties when he laid his eyes on the two of them.
"Hello there, Doctor!" he shouted over the crowd. At least a dozen faces immediately turned towards the pair, and Paula felt herself stiffen.
"I don't recall seeing you get into town. I suppose business brought you here? Wouldn't be looking for the Norcross woman, would you?"
"Greetings, Sherriff Hawthorne!" Schultz turned, and did a funny little bow – tipping his hat ever so slightly. He then motioned to Paula, who, as if on cue, plastered a lovely smile onto her frozen face.
"Alas, I am not currently hunting the nasty Norcross harpy. Ah, may I present my wife Paula? We are just coming back to the hotel after a….tiring day. Indeed, I spent most of it in Westville."
"Evenin' ma'am," the Sherriff tipped his own hat in Paula's direction, and she nodded slightly back. He then addressed her, much to her dismay.
"I'm sorry about all this disturbance, but there's a fugitive on the loose who seems to have been seen in these parts recently. A dangerous sort from back east."
"Ah, well," Schultz exclaimed, elongating the last word, and grinning broadly. "I wish you gentlemen luck in your search! A profitable night to you all!"
At that, the doctor squeezed Paula's hand and started leading her back into The Nugget.
"I didn't know you were a married man, Schultz!" the sheriff continued. All at once, a nearly palpable shot of tension pervaded the men in the crowd. All eyes turned to the graying gentleman and the woman on his arm.
"It is a recent arrangement," Schultz countered.
"How recent?"
"Oh, it was sussed out over a many months," Schultz prattled happily, as if discussing politics over a brandy. He waved his hand dismissively, and cleared his throat.
"Her family back in my homeland wished for her to come here, and they have connections to my relatives. She is…a recent occupant of this country, and does not speak but the most basic of English phrases."
Sherriff Hawthorne looked skeptically at both Schultz and the woman. His black button eyes were squinting and it was as if his face reflected a brain madly trying to piece together a complicated jig-saw puzzle. Even if Hawthorne came to no real conclusions, being notably odd at all was not particularly safe for either Schultz or herself. The doctor, Paula knew, had the ability to talk his way out of a barrel of snakes. His persuasive powers had worked on her, though she'd been dead set against his plan at first. It seemed a shame not to help now when he obviously needed it. If he wanted to be angry, he could lecture her after they were safely inside.
Digging into the recesses of long-neglected memory, the woman looked desperately for the right phrases, the right words…
"Ich spreche nicht viel Englisch," Paula sputtered uneasily, looking concerned and tucking her head closer to the doctor's shoulder as if straining to be heard.
"Ich verstehe nicht.Können Sie das übersetzen?"
Schultz turned his head slowly, staring at the woman as if she'd just shot fire through her nose.
Quickly remembering himself, he rattled off something in his native tongue in such a rapid verbal fire that Paula only caught a few key phrases. He did smile at her reassuringly though, and at this, she grinned unwittingly back, squeezing his arm lightly.
"Alles ist in Ordnung," he finished, rather dotingly.
The sheriff's eyes were still tiny slits – dark gashes in a brown potato face.
"Well," he mused. "An actual maiden of the Rhine. Why's her hair so short? Do all the German gals cut off their hair like that?"
"Though it is indelicate of you to mention my wife's appearance," Schultz said, forcing another grin, "I will forgive you, and answer your line of questioning. She caught a fever on the ship that brought her over. They had to cut off her hair as part of the efforts to save her very life. She is absolutely distraught over the loss. I am grateful, Sherriff, that she cannot understand you right now."
Paula did her best to look a little bewildered. It was not a stretch as her eyes darted unwittingly at the faces around the building. The torches cast everything in a nightmare haze of shadow and dancing light. The men, muttering while the doctor exchanged conversation with his lawman acquaintance, leered at her menacingly.
"Didn't mean nothin' by it, Doc," the sheriff finally acquiesced.
"Well, I hope your curiosity has been thoroughly sated," Schultz returned coldly. "If you will excuse me…"
At that moment, a large hulking wall of a man came to stand directly in front of the couple. He crossed his arms, and looked down at the two of them as if he were inspecting rodents. His mawing face settled into his considerable muscles and girth. The whole package came wrapped in a set of dirty suspenders, torn pants, and a pair of scuffed-up minder's boots.
"We don't let fancy-pants foreigners talk like that to us in these here parts," the man growled.
The crowd froze once again. Even Hawthorne went completely quiet. Finally, someone from the crowd called out to the man.
"C'mon, Sam! Let 'em pass. We've got a hunt on!"
"My good man," Schultz rejoined. "Your companion has a point. It seems that we are not the true aim of your efforts this evening. We mean no offence. I was simply protecting the honor of my lady love."
"I'll get out of the way when you tell the sheriff you're sorry for your sass," Sam huffed.
"And we are very sorry," the doctor said lightly, grinning facetiously up into the brute's face.
"We are sorry for inconveniencing you with our…differences. Now, I am certain that you have other things to do – other people to bother. Please stop threatening my wife and myself and move out of the way!"
The crowd erupted into a murmur, and Paula could see the sheriff shift uncomfortably where he stood.
"C'mon, Sam. Stop bothering the doctor and his lady friend. Come on back to the meeting."
The man spit a long stream of tobacco out the side of his mouth. Part of it landed on the edge of Paula's dress, leaving a nasty brown stain on the summer sky fabric. She furrowed her brow up at the man as if asking why he'd do such a thing. He chuckled darkly, daring her to speak. At best, her German was exceedingly limited, and at that moment, Paula couldn't remember an appropriate phrase that could be spoken without offending the doctor. Reluctantly, the man called 'Sam' moved his considerable bulk out of their path.
Slowly, Schultz tightened his hand on Paula's arm. They turned around stiffly, and the doctor started moving the both of them towards the front door of The Nugget.
From somewhere behind her, Paula could hear a soft mechanic 'click.'
Lightning fast and quicker than blinking, Schultz pushed the woman down to the ground. In one swift movement, he turned and landed a slug between the left upper-chest of the mountainous man who had been in their way not moments before.
Groans of surprise and blood punctuated the air and shadows. A few moments passed with Schultz standing over Paula, looking over the crowd and daring them all with an expression that could only be described as steel-cold. Finally, she felt a set of arms helping her out of the dirt.
The shaken woman turned, and involuntarily made an ugly noise in her throat.
Red splatter formed constellations across the lapel of Schultz's jacket, and dotted the snowy petals of the Magnolia blossom. Once she was up, Schultz looked squarely into Hawthorne's shocked potato face.
"They say only cowards are willing to shoot you in the back," the bounty hunter muttered angrily, desperately trying to regain his controlled demeanor. He turned towards the sheriff, dropped his gun, and held up his hands.
"I have at least a dozen witnesses here that can attest to the actions taken against my wife and myself. I think you will all agree that I shot my gun only after this gentleman made it clear that he meant us harm. Sherriff, as an officer of the court, you may question me if you wish. However, I would appreciate it if you would let the lady get some rest. She has a habit of…fainting."
Hawthorne approached the body, leaned over the deceased Sam, and sighed.
"Welp, he always was a damned site stupider than most," the sheriff remarked. "I saw it happen, and I'm fairly sure one of you'd be dead right now if you hadn't shot 'im, Doctor. Nevertheless, in the morning you and your wife need to get outta town. We're havin' enough drama 'round here. We don't need yours."
They didn't have to be told twice.
In the morning, King and Paula Schultz settled up their hotel bill, saddled up Fritz & Jake, and started on their long journey towards Ohio.
"We have speaking to do, Fräulein."
Paula bit her lip, and sighed heavily. She was wondering when the doctor would want to talk about the previous night. She'd hoped that she could just forget what had happened and put all of her focus on making it to Ohio – alive, and in one piece.
Apparently not.
Apparently, there were details that Schultz had been mulling over. The woman looked across the padded seat of the horse-drawn cart at the man in gray, hunching over a bit as he stared straight ahead and held onto the brown leather reigns. He looked displeased – his entire countenance was somewhere between consternation and resolve. Glad to be out on the road again, Fritz the horse walked happily in front while Jake trotted along behind. As far as days went, it was already steamy and warm. Paula had traded her dirt-smeared blue dress for a lighter calico skirt and matching bodice. Schultz wore his usual suit, minus the outer coat which was awaiting a good wash.
"The question is," the doctor continued – "should I be speaking to you in Englisch oder Deutsch?"
"Whatever you prefer is fine – but I'll probably only understand you if you speak English."
More silence as the doctor mulled this over.
"So you are an educated woman? Languages, books... you must have gone to a good school in the east."
"Well," Paula started. "I had…a governess. I went to a girl's school when I was about twelve for a while. But,"
She stopped, and took a breath.
"That's not really where I received my education. Not really."
"What do you mean?" Schultz replied a little gruffly.
"My father – he was a trader? Mostly fur, and up near the northern Columbia districts. He, ah, worked for The American Fur Company. When I was young he used to…and it would make Mother so mad! - but he used to let me come with him on certain expeditions – on the ships. Only when I was young, mind you. And he never really put me in harm's way."
Paula flicked her hazel eyes across the seat, and saw Schultz still staring straight ahead. He'd told her about himself – she supposed it was her turn to be forthcoming. It had been so long since she'd talked about Papa.
"He had a good crew that he trusted – one of them was a German man. I learned a little of the language from him. We…we sometimes sang songs that he taught me that were from his home."
Schultz was shooting curious glances at her by this point. He seemed to be willing her to continue her story, and despite the sound of the wagon, horses, and road underneath, Paula raised her voice in an effort to go on.
"The trading ship was my Yale College and my Harvard," she smiled at being able to quote a line from one of her beloved books.
"And a very eager student you seemed to be," the doctor countered. "Tell me, why are you still not in the north with your family trading beaver pelts for God knows what?"
"Well," at this point she sighed, trying to find the words. "We traded mostly otter pelts, first of all."
"Don't be cheeky."
"Well, we did! And…Papa died. He caught a fever, and never recovered."
At that there was a long moment of silence. Paula could tell that the doctor did not want to drag any information out of her – but she also knew that he had shared painful things with her about his brother's death. It was only right that she should go on.
"What I haven't told you, Doctor Schultz, is that my father was one of three owners who ran the company. The other two had the same last name – can you guess it?"
Schultz's face darkened.
"Norcross," he croaked.
"Papa died when I was nineteen. What no one realized was that my father…had left his part of the company to me."
She took another deep breath, and commanded her voice not to shake. She must finally speak the last part to someone. She must, she must, she must…
"Mother was determined that I should marry one of the Norcross boys so that we could remain benefactors in the company without having to run anything. I…didn't like that idea. I didn't know exactly how to run my father's ships, but I know Ernst would've helped me – Ernst was the man who taught me a little German, you see?"
Schultz nodded.
"My mother was desperate with….hopelessness, I suppose, after Papa died. And I guess that's what made her do what she did. I'll never know."
Paula inhaled, and could feel her companion go stiff. Yes, she thought, this is the part that I don't want to talk about either.
"One night, we had the Norcross family over for dinner. Mother arranged for me to…be alone with the man who I…shot."
Paula nearly choked on the sentence, unwilling to utter the dead man's name.
"He took me…by force…and then I felt like – well, I felt like I should marry him to avoid shaming my family, my father's memory. I was young, and it was simpler to buckle under the pressure than to fight."
She let the story sink in – it was likely, Paula supposed, that the doctor did not believe her. He had no real reason to. Even if he'd only dealt with criminals for a few years, he was probably smart enough not to take everything that everyone told him at face value.
Of course, the fact that she could spit out basic German in tight spots provided some evidence regarding her (admittedly colorful) testimony. But she knew that to a man – and to an 'officer of the court,' as Schultz was fond of putting it – that her story sounded suspicious at best. There was no account from anyone but the servants (and perhaps his own parents) that her now-dead husband had been a beast. That he'd thrown her down staircases, into walls, and broken her nose a total of three times. That he'd gone whoring on a regular basis, and had been a lousy proprietor of her father's business. She'd known – she'd been told – that no one would believe her.
Her father's gun had been the only solution, and as she began to recognize the petering away of her own sanity and life-force, she'd grasped onto that solution with all the resolve and courage she'd had left.
Now, she was a murderess and traveling with a man who, by all rights, could choose to exchange her corpse for a large sum of money. She bit her lip, and let herself go numb which was preferable to crying about everything – again. She focused on the scenery flying by the cart, and breathed in the silence, the sunlight.
A few moments passed before she looked across the cart at Schultz who sat there, stony faced and solemn. He realized she was inspecting him, and smiled sadly.
"Sometime – not today maybe, but sometime, you will have to sing me one of the songs your friend taught you. It…it has been too long," he suggested gently.
For the first couple of days, they made camp in places with substantial cover – near large foothills that could stretch out between themselves and the land that lay behind. Once, during a torrential rain storm, they stayed in another hotel that was just past the boarder of South Carolina. However, being found out was always on Paula's mind. Sometimes, she rode Jake – always beside the cart, and never for very long. When she did sit on the large cushioned seat next to Schultz, Paula found that it was easy to make conversation with the doctor. Most of the time, they stuck to safe subjects - mostly to the books each of them had read and loved during their lives.
Boosey & Son's translation of Goethe's work was of special interest to the once-Elizabeth-now-Paula. The finer points of Faust were, she knew, probably lost on the inaccuracies of the transposed text. She'd asked, almost timidly, Schultz's opinion on this subject and was immediately met with a storm of frustrated noise.
"Ack! Faust," The doctor threw back his head in mock anguish.
"I come to America, and I still can't get away from Goethe!"
"You have only your choice of companions to blame for that," she returned with a grin.
"I'm a cold-blooded killer AND a bookish woman. Surely the worst mixture of traits?"
"To be sure," Schultz chuckled, half to himself.
"To be sure."
Now when she dreamed, it was of her father. She fancied that riding and sleeping beneath the stars did that to her – opened up the parts of her mind that had been quiet due to the passing of time and simple misery. Superstition granted that sleeping under the moon made one mad, and perhaps it was a little mad to dream so often of a dead man. But, God, it was good to see him again – whether it was real or not. When she saw him – her Papa, it was always on one of the trade vessels, and always late spring. There would still be frost on the rigging of the ship, and Bess would swear she could hear the craft creaking with heft as it made its way through the waters where the hunting grounds of the Massawomack used to be. The time of day in these meetings was never clear – there was always the dank blue light of early morning or nearing night. It was an in-between place in every way. Every time the dream came, she'd find herself on the deck, smelling the water and the pale, cold air. Soon enough, she'd hear the familiar voice.
"My girl! My Izzy-bess!"
"I'm not Izzy anymore, Papa," she heard herself saying.
"I have a new name, and I have a new friend that you and Ernst would like so very much…"
She'd turn, and smile into Papa's face right before waking up.