Disclaimer: I don't own Ninja Turtles.
Author's note at end. Sorry about the whole hiatus... stuff happened; the note explains just a portion of it. Thanks for all who stuck with me. Enjoy a VERY LONG chapter.
Chapter 15
Friday
April saw them drag Donatello from the shed, battered and ruined, while the bandits forced her to dance with them, her hands bound and looped around their sweaty necks. The man whom she currently stumbled around with, she knew had participated in putting that look on Father Donatello's face. She'd never seen a man look so frail, slack limbed, shoes trailing parallel lines in the dry dirt, and the confusion on his face as they shoved him into a saddle, she practically felt Donatello's terror as a man slapped the horse's rump into a gallop with two riders leading the way.
She swallowed around the tight lump in her throat, her eyes burning hot and vision blurring, and the man laughed, his heavy hands grabbing her backside as he swung her around.
"No need to cry, little lady. I'll dance with ya again." He said, a grin on his face and a sway to his hips against her own that was a little too close for comfort.
She turned her face away from the sight of Donatello fading in the distance, and curled her lip back in disgust at the man's sour breath. "Rather dance with a hog. It'd probably smell better."
His smile fell and he stared blankly at her before snarling, "Is that any way ta be talkin' to me, bitch?" Spittle flew from his lips and speckled against her cheek.
She wished she could thrown up simply to get him off her.
He scowled at her and pushed her away and into the chest of another man. His large arms wrapped around her waist, his beard scratching the side of her neck and she arched away from him. He huffed out a laugh. She inhaled deeply, clawing the man's shirt sleeve to try and stay calm.
The girls were scattered around her, also forced to dance with the men. Amy Lee was quiet, but by the look on her face and the way her eyes were red, she was doing everything in her power to not cry. Angel struggled, because that girl was nothing but a wild cat, and the way she spat fire at her captor, she wasn't making it easy on him. She seemed the most popular. Jolynn took another route, clinging to the man currently holding her close, trying her best to cozy up to him with little smiles and fluttering lashes; though the way her lip would twitch she was just as disgusted as April felt. Little Debbie ran to-and-fro fetching drinks for the men, not that a slap to her rear didn't leave her squeaking like a mouse and making the men uproar in laughter.
April reminded herself it wasn't as bad as it could be. Some groping and forced kisses were nothing they couldn't endure. It was when Angel's current partner tried to ruck up her skirts and got nothing but howls and slaps, that April feared the worst.
"Get off me!"
Hun appeared at their side, looking like a cloud blotting out the sun. He yanked the man away from Angel, tossing him to the ground, and his meaty fist snatched her by the arm before she could run. "What do ya think yer doin'?" Hun asked, stepping toward the bandit, his chin hard and face of stone. His shadow alone covered the fallen man completely.
"Girl's a whore! Thought we could play with this one-"
"Idgit." Hun growled, his foot stomping down on his gut, pinning the wheezing man in place. "That there whore is my property. You wantin' ta go and waste money, spend yer own, not mine."
"But…"
Hun leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee, which in turn pressed down on the man and made his face turn red. "Don't matter what she is and will be. She gots to be in good shape when I sell her, and that means she ain't entertainin' yer ass or anyone else's till we get ta Richmond. Is that understood?"
The man nodded quickly, his face so red the color spread down his neck and onto his chest, his eyes watering and bulging from the pressure.
Hun stepped off his gut. The man rolled to his side and gagged, quaking in the dirt as he sucked in air. Snorting, as if trying to get the smell of him out of his nose, Hun dragged Angel to his side and hitched her up on his hip even as she screamed and kicked her feet. "Since yer so eager ta cause trouble, get yer horse and team up with Rick an' his boys and ride out ta the east side of town."
"But…"
"You'll do it, or you'll be joinin' Carl and stompin' out the false trail."
The man flinched at that and turned his face away, his nose running and he wiped it on his sleeve. Hun raised a brow, waited for the man to nod, before he dropped Angel in the dirt. "Put her away and get yerself gone." He said, and stalked away.
April dropped her eyes when Hun paused on her, her teeth grinding when he huffed with a laugh and moved on. He frightened her, and she hated that.
The man on the ground dragged himself up, and dusted himself off. He shot a glare at Angel, who just glared right back, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her back to her feet and shoving her along toward the house.
April swallowed hard, shooting Angel a look. She frowned as she stumbled past, but the look they shared said it all. At least they had some small guarantee of not being raped anytime soon.
Little consolation it was.
Mikey limped down the street, stabbing at the earth with his cane, and trying hard to smile. He couldn't. In fact, if the town wasn't practically vibrating with energy, he might have even allowed himself to snap and snarl the way Raphael had that week when Mikey tried running him off. He was grateful the man was too beef-headed to listen to a wind-bag like him. He had just saved Donatello's life. He figured he could give the idiot the benefit of the doubt.
He made his way to the hospital. The Doc needed new bandages and a suture kit. And dinner sounded like a good idea. He was pretty sure Donnie at least had some of the basics already in his home that Mikey could make soup, but a bit of bread would make the meal that much better, and some beef would do well to make the broth a stew. He thought Donatello had some milk to thicken it up.
He was ticking off the groceries he needed to pick up on the way home, when he stopped at the steps of the hospital.
"You're not allowed here."
Michelangelo blinked, long and slow. Mr. Snider stood with arms crossed and head high, the white stripe running from nose to tail just added to the way he was looking down on him.
"Huh?" On occasion, Mikey knew he had a silver tongue.
On occasion.
"You make it a habit to rescue men who go against the very laws of nature?"
Again, Mikey could only stare up at the man, his brain moving like a proverbial turtle in a race; slow and unhurried. "Huh?"
Mr. Snider ground his teeth , dropping his arms from his chest and he stomped down a step, and it was only as Michelangelo took a step back from the skunk that he saw the other men, the other women sitting there on the porch, patched up and wounded, but all staring in that same way his mother used to stare at him when he farted at the table during dinner when she had a very important guest over.
Anger and disgust.
His brain chose that moment to understood exactly what Mr. Snider was talking about, and Michelangelo surged forward, pushing into his space and surprising the man.
"What rot are you spewin' now, Nicholas Snider? Did none of you people hear the Marshal?" he hollered, stabbing the cane into the ground.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, raising his cane as if to strike, but he stopped, seeing Casey by his side. The man didn't look any happier than Mikey felt, but he didn't look like he was ready to start a fight. Yet.
"Move aside Mr. Snider." Casey said, stepping up the stairs in a slow, deliberate stalk, and for a second there, Casey looked like a wolf readying himself for the kill.
Mr. Snider hesitated, hands raising as if to ward him off, then his courage rushed back and he folded his arms over his chest and scoffed. "No. This hospital is for normal folk. God fearing men and women who don't allow unnatural folk-"
"Donatello was beaten so thoroughly the Doc doesn't know if he'll ever recover!" Casey roared, and just like that, the men and women on the porch shrank away from him, eyes wide and ringed in white. "They cut into him in places no man should ever have a knife near. They whipped him. They tortured him. They ruined him - and you think Hun is the one who should be believed? Father Donatello was used as a distraction. And look at that, it worked. Ya'll went and forgot that the one tellin' ya'll that Donatello is… is someone like that… that same man is the one who took your daughters and ran off with them. Hit the dirt, Snider, ya'll got it wrong. What's more important, listenin' to a liar, or helping our own?"
Snider swallowed hard with sweat gathering along his temple and upper lip. He glanced from Casey, down to Michelangelo, then back, his mouth working. "But why would he lie about that? It has to be based on truth!"
Mikey hissed, rubbing at his face, "Hun used Donatello as a Judas steer. Led ya'll astray because he knew just how to lead you in the wrong direction. He knew how to hook you and set ya'll into a frenzy."
"And it worked." Casey finished, his hands balled in fists.
Snider inhaled sharp. Mikey couldn't tell if Snider believed them, but he moved aside in such a way that it seemed he had run out of arguments for now.
The pair stepped onto the porch and inside, greeted by the bustling nurses and the injured who were able to sit up or even move around within the large central room.
"What do you two need?" One of the nurses asked as she breezed closer to them - though her shoulders were stiff and her eyes averted from theirs.
"Doc sent me to get some things." He said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to her. "He said one of your girls would be able to get it for him."
"Mmm, and all this for Father Donatello?" She asked, looking over the list.
"Didn't rightly ask him." Mikey said, looking the nurse up and down.
She turned away from them without a word, and disappeared into a room.
The pair leaned against the wall, watching one of the victims of Hun's midnight attack walk slowly along the wall with one of their loved ones holding onto their arm. It was all so silent and awful, even though there were plenty of people who could be talking.
"Thanks." Mikey said, not looking at the man beside him.
"Yep."
That was enough said between them.
Screaming rose up from the room the nurse had rushed off too and suddenly a black carry case was thrown from the room and burst open, scattering the contents. Bloodied instruments littered the polished floor, old bandages sodden with brown splotches of blood, and chipped scalpels glared at the room around them, and the nurse rushed from the room, holding a red cheek.
"How dare you!" she shrieked.
"You took an oath!" Miss Milo charged from the room after her, red in the face and her hands shaking. "You swore to aid and help heal the injured and sick. Not to sabotage a Doctor's patient by providing him with third-rate equipment he wouldn't use on a horse! Shame on you!" She marched after the back peddling nurse. "Go home and don't come back."
"But… you need all the help you can get." She indicated the staring crowd of patients.
Miss Milo narrowed her eyes, "Not your help. Don't come back."
The woman's face flushed, jaw tight, and she nearly snarled as she stormed from the hospital, slamming the door shut behind her.
Michelangelo leaned forward on his cane, eyebrows high.
The nurse sighed, smoothing her apron down, then she turned, hands clasped in front of herself. "Gentlemen, I apologize. Let me get the items the Doctor asked for, it will only be a moment." She smiled and made her way toward another room. "Claire, clean that mess up, thank you."
Casey whistled low, tipping his hat back.
"I'm going to marry her." Mikey sighed, his smile growing with every beat of his heart for Miss Milo.
"Good luck with that." Casey grunted, looking away.
"What do you mean? Don't you think we'd be a right fit match?"
"I'm thinkin' Miss Milo might have her eyes set on another."
"Who?"
Casey shrugged his shoulders and turned away from him, and Michelangelo squawked with indignation.
"Who?"
April stared at the crack below the door, listening to yet another group of Hun's men ride out, heading back the way they came only this time to the west. It was the third such group she had heard riding off, not to mention the group of three or four that had returned two hours ago, ate and watered the horses, then headed back out, leading half a dozen horses, yet again, out toward the Lewellan Pass. She wanted to rub her eyes, maybe lay down. She was tired and emotionally exhausted, but sleep refused to come because the very idea of sleep was so ludicrous, her body remained alert.
She couldn't get Father Donatello's screams out of her mind. The vacant look on his face. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes so she could try and breath. The stuffy air in the closet cloyed in her nose and sat heavy in her lungs like a weight pressing down on them. The girls on either side of her pressed close, and it was a comforting weight, though not a very relaxing one.
Yet, effective.
"How are you doing?"
Jolynn snorted, but didn't look up, her fingers still twisting and tugging at April's bonds. The knots were wickedly tight, and her fingers had tingled and fallen asleep a few times when she didn't hold them just right behind her back.
Little Debbie slept with her head on her lap, and she wanted to stroke the girl's hair, comfort her. Amy Lee breathed in short, sharp gasps now and then, her crying finally having stopped when there was nothing left. She worked on Angel's wrists though April wasn't certain how successful she was.
"This is stupid…"
"Shh," April glanced over her shoulder, back stiff. "Shh, we don't need them checking on us." It was so quiet outside the door. She could only hear a man speak now and then, and even then it was more in tones of grunts and soft cursing. She wasn't certain what she was hearing outside the building, but it sounded as if all the men were simply gone. Them and their horses. Every little noise they made, every shift, sounded as if a gunshot was firing in their little closet.
Jolynn sighed, but nodded, and got back to work, a frown drawing her face down, making her look older and more like her mother.
A single day, this was all it had been, and it felt like too little of time to have changed their entire lives. April couldn't focus on that, she had four girls she needed to take care of. She could do this.
The bonds on her wrists slackened and she inhaled sharply as blood rushed back down into her pinkies and ring fingers and made them tingle.
Jolynn glanced up at her and shot her a grin, a smirk so self-satisfied she would have laughed if it wouldn't have alerted the men on the other side of the door.
She nodded encouragement and Jolynn tugged on the rope till it finally fell free and April drew her arms forward, biting her tongue to keep from groaning. Her shoulders ached horribly. She woke Debbie as she surged forward and reached for her legs. She ripped a nail as she tore at the rope, untying her ankles and slicking the rope with blood. She turned, helping Jolynn, then the other two girls. It still took time, but one small victory led to full triumph after all five of them were no longer bound.
April eased herself down on her belly, peeking under the door. She didn't hear anything, but that didn't mean anything.
Two men sat at a small table. She could only see their boots, but the closer she got to the opening, she could hear the faint hiss of cards moving between the two.
She pressed her finger to her lips and moved back to the girls, hugging little Debbie fully, and drawing Amy Lee in to keep the girl calm.
"Listen, as soon as those men either fall asleep or leave, we need to get out of here and run. Run as fast and as hard as you can and don't stop for anyone. Even me. Understand? You get back to town because only there will you have a chance."
Jolynn nodded, as did Amy Lee, but Debbie sniffled and hid her face against April's breast, little sobs sputtering out.
"Miss O'Neil?" Angel reached for her, taking her hand.
"Yes?" she squeezed back.
"I'm scared."
"I am also. But don't worry, I'll never let them hurt you."
They waited in the dark, watching shadows thump by the door. The men on the other side laughed, their barks making the younger girls jolt like scarred rabbits. They talked and argued, cussing now and then till April covered the ears of Debbie as the little girl hid her face in her shoulder.
They sat there for what felt like days, waiting, too scared to peek out at the men a second time, but the girls followed April's example, trying to remain calm till the time came.
When they heard Hun's heavy steps approach, his boots rattling the floorboards, they held their breath.
"Lights out, we gotta leave in a few hours. Can't make them girls wait, now can we?"
The men chuckled, but the lamp's light disappeared to be replaced by slivers of harsh white sunlight.
It was still day then. Perhaps after noon? A little later? It felt like they had been here for years, not just an hour or more. Maybe the town would mount a rescue party before dusk.
April rocked Debbie as the girl sniffled, a renewed bought of tears overwhelming her.
"It's all right." She soothed the girl in a whisper, rubbing her shoulders. "We'll be fine. We'll just have to make it so."
Angel turned her head, though April couldn't see her now that the light faded. She nodded, and Angel returned the nod. The young woman eased herself out on her belly and peered under the door, keeping watch, and looking for an opportunity.
They couldn't just wait around and assume the men folk back home would come for them. They needed to make certain they gave themselves a chance.
Raphael heard the door open and what followed was the sound of stampeding cattle as Michelangelo and Casey announced they were back. He checked Donatello, not wanting to leave and yet, he needed to escape for a few minutes, check on the others, forget for two seconds that he wanted to lay himself down next to him. He pulled his hand from Donnie's curled fingers, and escaped down the stairs, his heart fluttering like a damn schoolgirl's.
"One of the nurses tried to switch out used and soiled equipment for the clean goods." Mikey said, plopping down a large black bag that looked the sort that the Doc would take with him for a house call.
LH frowned, shooting Casey a glance, and the Sheriff smirked, tipping his hat back. "It's true. But damn, that Miss Milo you have workin' there? She slapped that girl real good for her underhanded exchange. Told her not ta come back tomorrow neither."
The Doc nodded, a hint of satisfaction on his face, and Raphael relaxed, ever so slightly. At least there were a handful of people still on Donatello's side. He shuffled across the room, leaning on the kitchen table to peek inside the bag. There were several jars of ointment and fresh bandages, as well as an oiled leather skin rolled up and hiding what Raphael could only figure was medical tools.
"Miss Milo?" Leo asked, and at LH's nod, Leo hid his face in another cup of coffee, eyes averted. Raphael couldn't help smirking at his brother. Well shit, here a whole day and already his big brother had found himself a pretty thing to moon over.
Usagi checked the window, glancing out into the street, before he joined their side, his arms folded in his sleeves. "The street is clear for now. Perhaps Marshal Bishop-san has kept his word?"
Mikey snorted, "Like hell he has. Mr. Snider tried ta keep me from even goin' into the hospital. Wouldn't listen to me neither."
Casey sighed and rubbed his brow, nodding. "Don't rightly know what ta do in this case. Them girls…" he stopped, his throat bobbing. They all knew. There wasn't a need to mention the kidnappings. It was hard enough waiting for other men to go off and do what they desperately wanted to do with every scrap of gumption in their bones.
Casey cleared his throat, rubbing a hand across his stubbly cheek. "Doc, you got ta get back to work here soon enough. You got patients up at the hospital."
Raphael limped closer to the group, standing on the outskirts as they talked.
But the smile Michelangelo threw him— so friendly and welcoming compared to the narrowed eyes and childish scowl— he frowned at him in return. Mikey chuckled and threw his arm over Raphael's shoulders, dragging him closer to their little group. "Anyway, I have to tell you all about how Miss Milo has stolen my heart! She slapped that little trollop for what she did! Never thought I'd fall for a woman with so much fire! Don't get me wrong, I like a woman with spunk. But a woman who would raise her voice in public like that?" his smile curled over his face and a dreamy look clouded his eyes.
Raphael rolled his eyes and shrugged his arm off, shoving the saloon owner away from him. "Just what every woman wants, a man without job or home. Good catch you'll make."
Casey snorted, and even LH offered a small smile.
It was all a lie, this cheerfulness. They clung to it though, like a dream, trying to remember the details that were fading as quick as the morning sun filled the room. They smiled because if they didn't, they would fall apart, less broken than Donnie, but cracked and too useless to hold anything inside.
"I'm a damn fine catch compared to you lot! My home is just singed. Gotta scrape away the black edges is all. You got what, a horse? And your brother here gots a pair of guns. Damn, my luck just got even better." He beamed, pointing to Usagi, "You look like a monk," the rabbit blinked in surprise at having been dragged into this, "and LH has a lady friend he writes to who lives back east."
"I do not." LH hissed, but by the way his face warmed up, Raphael couldn't stop a laugh from busting out.
"And Casey here is damn well married! At least, he will be when we get April-"
The room grew cold, and the men dropped their eyes. Raphael glanced at Casey, watching the man try to harden up, his fist curled, his throat bobbing.
Michelangelo scuffed his boot on the ground.
"Bishop wanted Usagi and I to meet him at the stables soon enough." Leo said, finger tapping on the cup. "Told us to eat before we left." His words hung in the air, and Raphael glanced to the cold stove, very much hating that over the past few days, that stove had led to many a happy conversation.
But he had to focus, he had to hold onto that fading strength before it abandoned them. He cleared his throat, rubbing his neck. "We might'en got some milk still, and I know Donnie's got potatoes and carrots in the cellar. Maybe some bread left too."
"I'll cook." Mikey said, and he smiled, trying so very hard to look happy for them all.
"Raph? I was wonderin' if I might borrow your horse?" Leo said, his finger tapping his water cup, eyes locked on him.
Raphael met his look, his throat choking up. Leonardo was going to go off and do what he wanted— hunt Hun down. Maybe kill him. He didn't want to be stuck here, locked away like some cripple in the backroom. He needed to be out there to kill that bastard for what he did to Donnie.
It hurt a little, knowing his revenge was no longer for their family. His revenge. But Leo could carry out both of theirs with focused intent.
He nodded, and Leo returned it in thanks.
"How ya fixin' to chase him down?" Raphael's voice sounded rough to his ears.
"Not sure yet. Maybe a bull and horns maneuver. But I ain't exactly in charge of this catch and destroy mission. Bishop will be givin' the orders. But," he paused, shaking his head, "my gut's sayin' somethin' is wrong, and by hell, I can't tell ya what it is."
Though Raphael had hated it when they were kids, it was always a fact that when Leo had a gut feeling, it was usually right. "You'll figure it out. Ya always did." He said.
Leo stared at him for some time, his lips parted, and he looked how Raphael felt - like he was just now realizing how real this was. They had found each other, and neither one was dead. They were alive and breathing, and standing in front of the other. Chasing after Hun? It was important, but not so much so that Raphael was loosing sight of what his truth was. He was here with his family, and he didn't want Hun taking any of them away from him again. His Pa might have died standing against Hun so many years ago, but he understood now how truly brave he had been to fight a battle he knew, with all certainty, he would lose, all in hope his family might get away.
He glanced down, shuffling over to the table to sit, because if he stared at his brother a moment longer, he would beg him to stay. A knock on the door stopped every man cold where they stood. Usagi and Leonardo reacted first, and they darted to the back door and peeked out into the yard, weapons drawn, while Raphael limped to the front with Casey on his heels.
Casey rested his hand on his gun, leaning against the wall beside the door. Raphael glanced to him and the Sheriff nodded. Inhaling slowly, he pulled the curtain back, peeking out at the front porch, and he saw a woman.
Her face was drawn, eyes red, dark circles beneath. She looked ready to weep at the drop of a hat.
Casey leaned against the wall beside the door, glancing through the window. "It's Mrs. Martin."
Licking his lips, and inhaling slowly, Raphael opened the door and stepped forward boldly, looking round about the main street for hidden guns. But nothing gleamed, no mob of men standing to the side of the house. Just a sad woman holding a basket.
"I…" her voice cracked and tears really did well up in her eyes. Her face twisted and she shook her head, wiping at her cheeks as if exasperated with herself. "I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't cry."
Raphael shifted his weight, though by now, the pain in his leg was partnered up with normality. "Uh… Mrs. Martin?"
She jerked her eyes up at him, surprised, and he rubbed his neck. "You… know me?"
"You're little girl…"
She nodded, and Raphael didn't continue. She didn't need him pointing out the obvious.
"I… I made you boys dinner because I didn't know what else to do, and when I'm upset I cook and my husband is fit to be tied and he doesn't know what to think anymore after… after…" and she pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes squeezed shut, and fat tears slid hot and fast down her cheeks, "and now all this with the Father." Her voice cracked, raw and tight, "I need to know if those men were even telling the truth. Because I can't… I just can't believe-" she couldn't talk anymore, sniffing as she wiped at her face.
Raphael was shit with dealing with crying women. But, this had to do with Donnie, and somehow, that made it easier. He reached out for the basket, drawing it out of her shaking hands. He passed it to Casey, and the man took it without question.
He held his breath, his fingers tingling, then he took her hands in his and squeezed her fingers. "Mrs. Martin?"
She hiccuped, shoulders shaking as she cried. It took her several minutes, the tears refusing to stop no matter how many times she tried, and she honestly did try to stop. When she was able to raise her head, nose red, lips looking dry, and eyes cloudy, he leaned down so she was level with him.
"Father Donatello would never have sold out anyone from this town. He loves ya'll too much. I was with him last night when Hun attacked. I heard the bas… the man order his men to take him. Said he could use him." He swallowed. "Said he'd… he'd tear the town apart usin' him. And I think Hun did."
She gripped his hands, her breath making her jump and little noises of distress escaping her. But she clung to his every word, desperate for anything she could hold onto that was fact.
"Father Donatello he…" his throat bobbed, and he knew he was lying, but he also knew, if he did ask him, Donnie would confirm his lie as truth. "Donnie fought to protect those girls, and Hun nearly broke him, all so he could use him to keep the town from payin' attention ta him."
"He baptized Debbie." She whispered as if that fact was very important.
Raphael stared right back at her and nodded.
"He didn't hurt that boy?"
"He'd sooner hurt himself."
Her shoulders relaxed then, rounding out and falling, and relief made the tears fresh and new, but for another reason. She lost her legs then, and she fell to the porch, Raphael catching her elbows and guiding her down. He winced from his leg, but as she sobbed, leaning into him, he could do nothing but wrap an arm around her shoulder and let her.
"When he was tellin' us what happened, he kept sayin', "they got little Debbie," and he was all out of sorts over it…." He turned his eyes away because the look she gave him made him regret it. "He's in bad shape. Real bad. But…." He swallowed hard, his hand tightening on her elbow. He realized he didn't know what to say because if he kept talking he would inevitably say something embarrassing, or possibly dangerous.
"Thank you… for the truth."
"Wishin' there were more like ya, Mrs. Martin." The words rasped out of him, like shoe leather torn in two. "People wishin' ta hear the truth."
The door to the closet flew open, and April gasped, all the girls shrieking in surprise. The man in the doorway was the same as the one she had sliced his hand open. He narrowed his eyes. His sharp features made him appear small and gangly, like an underfed rodent, or perhaps more like a mole with the way his dark eyes stared beady and eager, but sightless all at once.
She didn't move, heart rabbiting in her chest. She prayed he didn't notice they were untied.
"Heard whispin' in here. Ya'll wouldn't be so stupid as to be plannin' somethin' now would you?" he took a step into the closet, licking his lips past two large front teeth.
They huddled closer to each other, and little Debbie began crying again, more of a series of hiccups without the tears, because the poor child had nothing left to cry.
He shuffled an inch closer, his breathing picking up, his mouth open as he raked his eyes over them. April raised her chin, trying to meet his eyes, trying to keep him focused on just her.
"Is it against the rules to talk to each other?" she demanded, mouth dry.
"Ain't smart fer ya to be talkin'. We might be thinkin' yer plannin' somethin'. Somethin' that might be needin' punishment fer." He said, his hand reaching out toward Debbie, twitching as if desperate, his tongue slithered out again in a slimy slide across his lower lip.
Amy Lee stood suddenly, a sob in her throat. "I need the outhouse."
The mole man stopped, turning his head slowly to Amy Lee, and his eyes ran the length of her, slow and assessing before his lips curled into a smile. "That so…"
Amy Lee trembled where she stood, head bowed and tears sliding down her cheeks.
Jolynn cursed. If she wasn't thinking the same thing April may have reprimanded her for the course language.
Sidling up to her, he took Amy Lee's elbow, his face inches from hers, and April flinched at the look he gave the young girl. "Then we best be gettin' you there."
"I need to go too!" Jolynn shouted, moving to stand, but he hissed at her, and the animalistic sound froze the girl.
"You'll get a turn. After I come back." He jerked Amy Lee after him as she sobbed, stumbling over her clumsy feet as he dragged her with him, slamming the door shut behind him. Then the sound of something dragging across the floor and thumping against the door to the closet made April and the girl's jump.
Angel was the first to throw herself on the floor, looking under the door. "He put a chair against the door."
April stood, hands shaking as she pushed against the door. Her chest felt tight and her lower lip trembled. She didn't want to believe this was happening. An entire day of horror, of momentary relief at knowing at least Hun didn't want the men to have their way with them, knowing that they were ready to run at a moment's notice… only to be foiled by a chair against the door?
She screamed then, throwing her shoulder against the door, feeling the door rattle in its frame. But it only left her with a sore shoulder and confirmation the door was solidly locked.
The quiet pounded in her ears like the ocean against the rocks. She pressed her ear against the door, tugged and pushed on the handle. Tears threatened to fall, her eyes hot and a headache springing up at her temples. She didn't know what to do. She was supposed to protect the girls. She had to protect them from men like their guard. Not allowing him to do unspeakable things to her. She was fifteen, old enough to be thinking about what she dreamed of in a home and husband, but not this.
A scream froze her blood, shrill and short, a sound that crawled under her skin and made her spine jerk straight and heart race. Debbie whimpered, Jolynn wrapped herself around the little girl, and Angel stood, taking April's hand.
She looked to the young woman, still too young to have decided to work as a whore, but too old to not know what this meant. They stared at one another, Angel's face tight and lips pursed, but she squared her shoulders, standing solid, and April drew upon her determination.
"Together." Angel whispered, and April agreed, and together, they threw their shoulders against the door and pushed. Over and over they hit the door, and never did they have a secondary guard respond. April felt the door give a little, the chair wiggling against the handle.
Crying drifted to her, through the door, soft and distance, a choking sound slipping past words she couldn't quite understand. April and Angel threw their shoulders against the door at the same time, and the chair scraped across the floor and they fell into the main room.
An oil burning lamp sat on a table, though there was just enough light still in the sky before dusk that the cards on the table were easily seen. Dirty dishes sat in a dry wash bin, and two beds were shoved into a corner, pushed together, the blankets tangled. It was empty of men.
Jolynn flew out of the closet, Debbie dragged with her. The little girl hid her face against the young woman's stomach, her nose hidden in her blouse. April stood and helped Angel to hers, dusting them both off, and afterward she realized how ridiculous it was to do such a thing.
April stared at the open door of the hut, the late sun so hot and stifling in her lungs. The shadows long and angry, reaching out across the yard like hands reaching for an unseen knife. There was a haze across the land, making the air waver. She had been right, there weren't many men on the farm. No horses in the paddock. No guards around the perimeter. Whatever they were planning, Hun had called away every last one of his men to do it.
Another scream jerked the woman forward and April threw herself out the door of the hut first, her stockinged feet kicking up dusty warm earth.
Amy Lee stood in the yard, in the middle of nothing, alone and trembling with blood dripping from her fingers and down her wrists in the same fast slide as the tears down her cheeks. She choked as she cried out, unmoving and yet quaking like in a high wind. At her feet, unmoving with an open mouth and clouding eyes, the man who looked like a mole.
Inching closer, her hands held out wide, April approached the girl. She held her breath for fear if she moved to0 suddenly Amy Lee might do something more.
"Dear God…" Jolynn whispered, shielding Debbie with her body as she turned the girl to keep her from seeing. April focused on Amy Lee once more.
The girl screamed again, dropping the knife with a twitch of disgust, of disbelief, of horror, and she sobbed, bowing forward.
April grabbed the girl about the shoulders, pulling her close, clinging to her, stroking her hair back, and she cooed to her. "You're safe now, Amy Lee. You're safe."
"We have to go." Angel snapped.
April raised her head and looked about the yard, spying three men jumping the fence that separated the bunk houses from the family hut. She tugged Amy Lee, urging her to run with her. "We have to go. We have to go now."
Amy Lee wailed, raising her bloody hands in front of her face, pushing at April's shoulders and smearing her in the mess.
"Go!" April shouted, looking to Jolynn, "Run!" and before she could say more the young woman took Debbie's hand and they ran, skirts hiked up and running like wild horses across the yellow and green grass of the plains.
She shook Amy Lee, the girl shaking and gasping for breath and slapping at her body.
The men shouted, pointing at Jolynn and Debbie who were already turning into bobbing dots out in the taller grasses.
"Amy Lee, please." April begged. She wanted to scream at her, needed to do something, because she didn't want what Hun was planning to do to them to be her fate. She wanted to be selfish and run for her own life. But she wouldn't leave the young girl. Tears threatened her eyes. She was trapped and those men were approaching fast.
'At least the other two got away,' she told herself.
"Don't squeeze 'im with your knees. He's a good horse, but he'll try ta bite ya if he ain't comfortable. He's a real bastard like that but he knows his job."
"Got it." Leo said, checking the halter before he moved around to tighten the saddle belt.
"And don't let him go drinkin' as much water as he wants. He gets greedy and if you needs ta be ridin' hard, the water will just go and make him sick."
"I know." Leo said, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes.
"If yer gone for a while, I try ta give him oats now and then, usually when I know we'll be restin' up the next day. It fixes him up right good-"
"Raphael, I know all this." Leo cut him off, turning to face him with a hand on his hip. The horse beside them shook his mane out. "Pa taught us both all of this. I know what ta do."
Raphael stared at him for some time, his chest constricting. He knew this and yet, it was unreal somehow. It was heavy and too bright to focus on. He was standing in a stable, with someone who remembered his father, and that someone was family. He looked down and swallowed hard.
It didn't help that they were standing in the barn, the fire long cold in the hearth, and it lacked a certain feel without Donatello there moving about and chatting with him. He remembered the sounds Donatello made as he shod his horse. He remembered the heady smell of sweat and hearth. This blacksmith shop held memories for him, and here he was, standing in what he had begun to feel was his home, with this man whom he had actual memories of with his blood family.
His heart constricted and he scuffed a boot in the dirt.
Leonardo's hand fell heavy upon his shoulder, and Raphael's face warmed at the gesture. He was too quiet right now. He should be cussing at him, or making him promise to shoot Hun in the face. But he didn't care about Hun in this heartbeat, nor the next. He just wanted his brother to come back home.
He reached out and clapped Leo on his shoulder as well, swallowing hard, and dared to look him in the eye.
"Raph, I'll come home, I promise."
"Ya better."
"You have ta introduce me to Father Donatello once he's healed up. I want ta know the man who changed my brother so drastically." Leo held his gaze, his fingers squeezing the muscle of his shoulder once.
Raphael held his breath, his palms sweating.
"He made ya a better man. We may have been separated for years, but I can tell he has turned ya into a right decent man."
"You can't know that." Raphael whispered, throat bobbing as he tried to swallow down his emotions.
Leo shrugged a shoulder and pulled back from him, strapping one of the rifles Casey lent him out of the Sheriff's gun cabinet. "Well, I figure ya grew up as a cowboy, or at least a migrant. So you know what its like out there on the plains." Leo shot him a look then turned back to his work and checked his saddle bags.
Raphael's brows shot up before he had a chance to school his features.
"Anyways, I know these men back west. They met while pannin' for gold and became right good friends, so tight in fact, they built this house that they use as a sort of off the map boardin' house. So it gets me thinkin', cause I figure, you and Donnie are friends like that." The leather creaked as he tightened the saddle after his horse exhaled, and it grumbled in annoyance that Leo caught on to his trick. "Just sayin'."
He didn't know what to think about that. Fleeing seemed like a fine idea, but this was Leo, and Leo was telling him something important. For the life of him, he didn't know what, but the mention of Donnie and him running some business together didn't bother him much; and if they were business partners they could board together-
Raphael's eyes jerked, meeting his brother's rich brown eyes, the fading sunlight that peeked through the open barn door made his eyes flash with honey tones. His ma had eyes like those. But Leo was all their father, calm and collective, and farseeing. Where he himself lived in the moment and couldn't see past his own nose sometimes.
Leo held his gaze, his hand hesitating as he patted him on the shoulder, but he pulled it back, a small flinch at the corner of his eye. "Ain't goin' to say I condone anything. Our folks brought us up proper and all; and there is a part of me that wants ta do right by them…" he paused, his fingers curling into a fist before he forced his fingers to stretch out and relax. "But, Usagi, he's got this way of makin' matters like these not seem so… world shatterin'. He's got this way of talkin' that makes ya question what ya always thought was black'n'white."
Raphael couldn't help it, he blushed, hot and furious and he looked away, shuffling backward and kicking up hay.
"He made me reconsider the whole of humanity. You get me? And this was before we got here and saw you with the priest."
He felt too hot, sweat sliding down his neck. The damn foreigner knew something too? How the hell wasn't he hung himself if everyone he knew suspected he weren't so chaste?
A shuffling outside of the barn interrupted the pair and they bit their tongues.
Leo caught his eyes once more, and Raphael stared right back, though he wanted nothing more than to avert his gaze and hide himself in one of the stable stalls. For all the belly twisting, and bone-grinding need to run away, Raphael would never give anyone reason to call him a yellow-belly coward.
A horse snorted, and a man's footsteps stopped at the barn doors, the horse's hooves also drawing to a stop.
"Leonardo-san, Bishop-san is ready to leave." Usagi said from the doorway, his form shadowed but his white fur lay tipped with hints of blazing gold. He looked every bit the warrior his brother had been telling him about. But it seemed far-fetched in some ways because he held the reins to Michelangelo's sweet little mare who couldn't hurt the horseflies who bit her, and he lead her with the same gentleness in return. She lipped at his robe and he smiled, patting her cheek.
For a swordsman who fought against men with guns, he didn't look all that intimidating at first glance. It was that scar above his left eye, and the look resided there, that told him otherwise. He controlled power. Like a twister before it touched down. The sort of man that held within himself the ability to decimate any and all in front of him; but he held it in check; appearing as nothing more than a gentle summer breeze.
It made him happy Usagi was on their side.
"So…"
Raphael couldn't look at his brother.
"If… I mean… Usagi is probably someone you should talk with. He's good like that. Might help get that consternated look off yer face."
"Shut up." He scowled, shoving Leo's shoulder before he realized he was doing it. Childhood habits never truly faded apparently.
That got a smile out of Leo, who punched him in the shoulder in return. He grunted, rubbing his arm, and Raphael didn't feel so knotted up inside anymore. It didn't seem so strange a notion for his brother to be having his back. It didn't seem so strange for his family to understand him without him saying a word.
"Stay safe." Raphael said, voice husky and low. Like hell he would say he was choked up.
"I'm serious, Raph. When we get back, you should talk with him. He's a good listener."
He snorted, "With ears like them, how could he not be?"
Leo smirked, and Raphael could see the raised brow from the rabbit from across the barn.
His brother turned then, readying himself to leave, his eyes focused on the exit. "Keep the Father safe, won't you?"
Raphael's face warmed again, and he jerked his eyes away. "You know I will."
Leo nodded and walked his horse from the barn.
Raphael watched his brother go, dread weighing him down. But the foreigner just stood there, watching him, gently stroking the mare's cheek.
He scuffed a boot in the dirt floor of the barn, peeking up at him then away. Usagi's eyes just watched him, the glimpses he snapped proved the rabbit just standing there, quiet as the shadows.
"What?" he barked.
"Leonardo-san is correct."
"About what?"
Usagi dropped his hand from the mare's neck and took a single step further into the barn, head high and his gaze intense. "Having a koibito is a gift. No one should ever take that for granted."
Raphael's brows knotted up. What the hell was that?
"When we return from this mission to end Hun's terror, I would be more than pleased to speak to you about what danshoku means for one such as you and Donatello-san. Its your commitment that brings you honor."
He opened his mouth, shaking his head because it was all too confusing. But Usagi bowed to him then, not very low, but enough so that one of his tied up ears slipped over his shoulder before he straightened and followed Leo to the jail were Bishop said he would be waiting.
Raphael swallowed hard, heart skipping a beat. He didn't think his face would cool off anytime soon; what the hell was he supposed to do with all this information all at once? He wiped a hand down his face, huffing out a breath in a rush. "Well shoot." He whispered, stomach twisting up.
He ignored his shaking hands as he closed the barn doors.
They didn't have time for this. Angel licked her lips, watching the men rapidly approaching, Amy Lee screaming like a ninny, and only two of them were even running away. Staring at Miss O'Neil trying to calm the girl, and the men's voices combined in her head, a horrifying moment of clarity that told her the school teacher had less than 30 seconds to start running before it would all be too late.
Angel took hold of Amy Lee and pulled her from Miss O'Neil's grasp, and with a move as fast as a striking rattler, Angel slapped the girl across the face. Amy Lee's head jerked to the side and she gasped, eyes wide and finally seeing.
"Follow Miss O'Neil and run!" Angel's voice was a roar, an order that none could disobey. Miss O'Neil's brows knotted up.
Angel raised her dark eyes to hers, and for a moment, there were no men running out to them, there was nothing to be afraid of, and only this clarity of the situation they both shared, because they both knew it was the only way. She could see her teacher fighting the logic of it, but it wouldn't change anything.
20 seconds.
"Go. I can hold them off." Angel whispered.
"But…"
"I know what to expect."
Angel watched Miss O'Neil's eyes widen, color draining from her face.
15 seconds.
"Besides, it's like Father Donatello says in his sermons, we make our choices in life. God provides us with the opportunities for redemption." She turned her back on them, her steps hurried, her back straight and chin held high. "Get Amy Lee home. Her mother probably misses her."
"Angel…"
"This is mine. I can survive this trial." She said, and she couldn't help but feel as if she were talking to herself.
5 seconds.
She could practically smell the sour and sweat on the men.
"Go!"
It was the last thing Angel said before sparing one last look over her shoulder. Miss O'Neil took Amy Lee's hand in a firm grip and dragged her into a full run as they raced away from the farm.
Time up.
Angel broke into her own run, her heart pounding in her ears. She screamed in their faces as she dodged their attempts to catch her. Kicking at them, slapping, clawing at faces, forcing them to either abandon her to chase the others down, or focus on catching a just weak enough woman to be manhandled back inside. She allowed her arm to be held, knowing the bruise would be nothing before she could get away if she wanted too. She let them think they had her, then she fought, slipping away, buying the girls time.
One of the men hit her, slugging her with a fist that made the left side of her face scream in pain. She staggered, gasping in a rush of air so fast it felt cold in her lungs. She shouldn't see at first, her vision spotted with black and white clouds. But she kept moving, stumbling away till they scooped her up in their arms.
She bit one of them and they dropped her to the ground, her legs still held by the other. Angel snarled at him, tasting blood on her lips, and she kicked the man in the groin, scrambling at the dusty earth.
One of them fell atop her, gripping her by the hair. The other swore, down on his knees and holding his groin.
I'm buying them time, she told herself as she fought, as she struggled, as she screamed and went limp only to fight again over and over till she truly was exhausted and couldn't stop them.
She was buying them time, she told herself, as one of the men grunted above her.
Friday - Evening
He stood at the window, his arm raised and resting against the frame, watching Marshal Bishop and his brother ride off. The sun hung low in the sky, no more than past three o'clock, and he knew the posse wouldn't make it back from the farm before absolute dark. It would be stupid to ride the horses in the dark. If the horses didn't step into a prairie dog hole and break their legs, they might spook a sleeping rattler - or attract a hunting predator.
He rubbed a hand down his face, placing it on his hip afterward. He wanted nothing more than to beat Hun to death. But it sure as hell wasn't happening tonight.
Donatello staggered a breath in, and Raphael turned, moving like he would around a skittish animal. He stared down at the turtle, his face bruising more spectacularly now that they had had time to settle. His skin held an anemic yellow pallor when compared to his usual olive green complexion, Raphael couldn't help worrying. The blues and purples of his bruising cheeks. His puffy lip where it had been split several times. The welts from what he could only figure was a willow-switch, lined him, though oddly no further than to his shoulders. He didn't believe for a second they wanted to keep his face pretty; but maybe even a sadistic bastard as that man could stay his hand sometimes.
He swallowed hard, realizing there could have been another reason someone whipping him wouldn't go any further up. He exhaled, shaky and feeling weak and nauseous.
Donnie slept, and Raphael did not leave. He wouldn't.
He settled back in his chair, continuing his vigil with a grip on the man's hand, even after the sun dipped past five and left the sky hazy and warm like fireflies brushing past a candlelit window.
A soft knock on the door stirred his wandering thoughts, and had him pulling his hand from Donatello's. His face warmed, his hand tingled, and he rubbed his neck as Mikey stepped inside.
"Hey." Mikey said, leaning on his cane and holding a mug in the other. From the hard, earthy smell it had to be coffee. He offered the mug to him.
Raphael took it, grunting softly, "Thanks," he dropped his eyes, somehow feeling as if simply by looking at him, Michelangelo would be able to read his thoughts— and see the affection he held. He gulped the coffee down, wincing as the liquid burned his tongue.
"How is he?" Mikey eyed his friend, his hand clenching and worrying the top of his cane.
"Fell asleep about an hour ago." He fiddled with the mug, turning it between his fingers. "Wouldn't say much about what happened."
Not that he needed too. His imagination doing far worse than the truth probably would.
"You think…" Mikey inhaled sharply, averting his eyes from Raphael and Donnie, shifting from his good leg to putting his weight over the cane like a kid crawling through a fence. "You think they… to him…?"
Raphael twisted his body away from him, turning more fully to Donatello, his fingers gripping the mug of coffee tight. "…yeah."
Mikey bobbed his head, and Raphael watched him fidget in place from the corner of his eye. The man's brows knotted up, his face showing every emotion as they swept over him. "Right…" his voice sounded choked. He nodded again, shaking a little. "They're the ones who should hang."
Raphael took that statement and mulled it over, rolling it about in his head till it was a neat little bundle that sat beside the statement LH had left him with in the hospital that morning.
Good Lord, was all this one day?
He wiped his face, leaning forward on his knees and rubbing his eyes.
They should hang. Every last man in Hun's gang should die a slow death at the end of a rope.
He inhaled sharply and stood, sparing Donatello one last glance before he marched from the room, Mikey calling after him.
He hurried down the stairs, his steps heavier on one side, and he burst into the common room. Casey and the Doc staring at him, the Doc already moving to stand with a set jaw and worried eyes.
"Keep watch over Donnie, will ya? I got some business to take care of." He snarled, stomping to the door. He jerked it open, not caring one little bit that the glass rattled in the frame after it hit the wall. He stalked down the street, fists balled at his sides, and even his bum leg couldn't slow him.
"Damnit, slow down!" Michelangelo yelled behind him.
He didn't, he marched onward and listened to Mikey trying to keep pace. Raphael barely spared any notice to the occasional townsfolk glaring at him. He marched onward and up the stairs, bursting into the jail house and making the poor kid jump in his cell.
"You." He felt his nostrils flare, and his nails bite into his palms. He stopped only because the bars of the cell stood between him and the kid pressing himself into the corner of his cell, his eyes wide and hands trembling like a man standing in a snowstorm naked.
Mikey burst in behind him, his cane tapping with every hurried step. "What the hell, Raph?"
"The kid works for Hun." Raphael said, never taking his eyes off of the boy.
The kid, Danny, if he remembered his name right, cowered as far from him as he could get. He stiffened, eyes flickering from Raphael to Mikey and back. It pleased some part of him, knowing the kid was scared of him.
Mikey stepped up beside him, mouth slack, raising a shaky hand to grip the bars, and he stared. Raphael grunted.
"Hun hurt my best friend." Mikey whispered, and Raphael watched at the boy's face turn white.
"Hun find you workin' on a farm as a cowboy?" Raphael asked, gripping his gun belt.
Danny shrugged a shoulder, making himself into as small a ball as possible.
"Answer me!" Raphael barked, hitting his forearm against the bars and making the cell rattle.
He jumped and nodded.
"He pay off your debts and thats why you work for the son-uv-a-bitch?"
Danny's eyes flicked down then back, before he repeated the motion. He couldn't seem to keep his gaze on any one place or person.
"I told you ta answer me."
Raphael shifted his weight, nice and slow, allowing the loose floorboard under his foot to creak and fill the jail with the eerie sound.
"Yes."
"He promise you a better life away from the ranch bosses? Promise that a life on the plains is better than workin' in some factory back east?"
The boy glared now, his cheeks splotchy with color.
"Well?"
"Yeah, he did, so what?"
"He usin' ya in place of women?"
The kid practically turned as green as Raphael's ass. He looked away from them, and his knee began to bounce.
"You look old enough ta be fightin' back now. So I ain't askin' if it were yesterday. I am askin' ya if Hun is the type. If he's the type of boss ta take you out of one man's hands only ta throw ya into the hands of another boss and makin' ya owe him in return."
Raphael saw the confused look on Michelangelo's face from the corner of his eye, how the turtle's anger had dissolved into uncertainty. Danny stared at the floor, his eyes distant.
"You goin' to answer, or am I goin' to have ta go in there and beat it out of you?"
Danny winced and folded his arms over his chest.
"You an orphan?"
That jerked the kid out of his thoughts. He shook his head before he could stop himself. His shoulders slumped after he realized he had answered.
"No? You don't look like you grew up a slave. What the hell kid? You a runaway?"
He sat perfectly still, his knee no longer bouncing.
"Right. Ran away, hearin' stories about the life of freedom a cowboy lived was better than workin' for your pap. Am I close?"
Danny's face remained red, hunching his shoulders like he was trying to hide the same way a turtle might in their shell. "What's your excuse?" He snapped, glaring at Raphael.
"Hun killed my ma and pap. Made me an orphan. Got no other family, so I had ta find work where I could, and that included workin' for ranch bosses who quickly strung me up into debt and kept me workin' for no pay and rackin' up more and more debts with only the promise of workin' it off at stag parties iffin' I was willin' ta be the girl."
Danny shifted, eyes darting away. Michelangelo on the other hand stared, jaw slack and face pale, with a white knuckled grip on his cane.
"I got out real quick. Did some things I ain't too proud of neither, but I wasn't about ta be turned into some boss's whore ta do with how he wanted. Fought a man ta get my first gun, left him without any teeth, but I got it; and I shot that son-uv-a-bitch in the leg when he tried ta sell me to the highest bidder. I ain't no ones slave. Are you?"
Danny hunkered down into himself, his hands trembling. "I didn't think it would be like this…"
"None never do." Raphael said, keeping his voice quiet.
"I didn't want to work in my father's office. He's an accountant."
"Right respectable job."
"I didn't want to be like him."
"Ain't nothin' wrong bein' different from him, even if you gots the same job."
Danny nodded, his lower lip trembling.
Mikey shifted beside him. Raphael frowned, but he didn't dare spare him a look, because Danny finally met his eyes, face twisted up.
"You want ta go home?"
The kid hesitated, mouth working like a catfish.
"Cause I gotta tell ya kid, swallowin' yer pride and goin' home - I'd do it in a second if I could."
"How?" He whispered.
"By realizin' Hun is lyin' and you ain't got no debt with him. He's just sayin' he does because you're too young and stupid ta know otherwise. You just gotta walk away from him and go back home."
Danny shook like a tree in a windstorm, eyes desperate and wide.
"That's all?"
Raphael nodded, resting his hands on his hips.
The kid swallowed hard, nodding, though he didn't look like he fully believed him.
"What's Hun's real plans, kid?"
Danny licked his lips, breath coming a bit faster.
Raphael waited, watching him the same way a panther would, stalking its prey up in the treetops, waiting for it to pass underneath before falling from the branches and striking.
Even he could be patient now and then.
"Hun isn't retreating." Danny whispered, face white. "He said he'll lead a false trail out through the pass, and then he's going to circle around back and snatch up all the other girls he missed."
Raphael stiffened. "When will he be here?"
Danny met his eyes, lips white, "Before dusk."
He felt Michelangelo jerk beside him before he rushed out the door. Raphael stared at the kid, his heart hammering in his chest. He had less than an hour, and the posse was hours away.
"Thanks, kid," he spun on his heel, and exited the jail house.
He turned in a circle in the middle of the road, looking over the faces of men and women, worn and exhausted, grieved and guilty, hardened or broken. He didn't know how he could protect a whole town with a bum leg, left with only three men who could shoot straight, and filled with nothing but women and children.
Plan. He needed a plan.
Scanning the edges of town, looking past the flat plains behind the hospital, Raphael noted the hazy shimmer of dust catching the setting sun's red and gold light maybe an hour outside of town.
Inhaling slow and deep, Raphael curled his hands into fists, and a flash of his pap's legs swinging from a tree coming to mind. Then the fresh memory of Donnie reaching out for help with wide eyes. He wouldn't let that happen again. He growled in his throat, knuckles white.
Without feeling the pain in his leg, Raphael marched down the street, head held high, and into the church where he rang the bell.
Author's Note:
I'm sorry it took me so long to post this. I don't have a great explanation, except depression really does strangle creativity. I haven't been happy in a long time - things at work were getting harder to deal with outside of work, and it felt like I was being paid to go and work in the most toxic environment in the city - and I also happened to be the only one attempting to do my job. Frustration, anger, resentment... it took a toll on me. I was still writing, but I was beginning to have self-doubt, I was starting to just not care about anything. I was never suicidal, but when there isn't any hope in your life... its just this quagmire I found myself stuck in without any way out. The Bog of Despair.
Then, back in March, a former co-worker texted me and told me to give her my resume. I did, not really expecting anything... and I ended up getting an interview... they called me back twenty minutes after I left that interview and wanted me back for a second the next day. I applied for a part time for position and they hired me for a full time position. I literally cried after I got the phone call.
I've been working there since April and I love it. My co-workers are wonderful. The job challenges me in good ways. I already have responsibilities that match my capabilities and I feel like I'm TRUSTED. I'm so stupidly happy...so happy that the voices and stories came back to me, and by May I was jotting down plot ideas and talking to myself in the car as I drove to work trying to figure out character stories. I feel so good.
Looking back, I can't really explain how abused I was at my previous job. Like, the type of emotional abuse that beaten spouses go through and don't see, and they try to defend their abuser no matter how bad it is. I understand those victims now so clearly... and it has nothing to do with them not knowing the situation is bad-its having no hope... no hope of having a way out, of having a place to move on to. No options. There are no possibilities...
Writing was always my escape and my joy... but my previous job was beating me down so much that by the time I needed the writing the most, I mentally couldn't do it because my creativity was locked in this run-down shack that was my soul and I had given up in a lot of ways.
So yeah, I feel bad that I made you people who have stuck with me for so long wait for the conclusion of this work. But... I'm not going to beat myself up over it. What I can do though, is finish this story and post it. I finished the final chapter about a year ago (during a weekend writing retreat that was a fantastic reminder as to why writing is so good for me) but because of my previous job, that writing retreat relaxation was sand-blasted out of me within a week of returning. Anyway... that's the good news. The good news is that this story is complete. I just need to go in and re-read the chapters and give them a polish before posting them. I want to make this a goal of posting one updated chapter a week. Very doable... seeing as there are only 5 chapters left.
Thank you for being patient for those who stuck with me for the conclusion of Confessional. And to all of you who have left comments - I actually can't thank you enough. Those comments reminded me that I could write something that left people feeling something, waiting for more... they were little bursts of sunshine during the last couple years, and honestly, as small or big as those comments were, they kept me going. I'm really bad at responding to comments, but I do appreciate them so VERY much. Thank you everyone. Truly.
~Melissa