“Bend over, dress up, drawers down,” he says as he begins to unfasten his belt.
I see her lips tremble, but she quickly complies with his order as only an experienced punished wife would do. I can’t help but glance at Papa Rich and wonder if I’m next. Is he saving my punishment for when he’s more settled? It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the strike of leather on my bare skin, but not so long that my heart doesn’t skip, and my knees weaken in anticipation.
“You know I like to come home to a cooked meal and a clean house,” Scarecrow begins to lecture as he doubles over the leather in his hand.
Wife Number Two is bent over the table, and her bare bottom is on full display for all of us to see. Scarecrow clearly doesn’t care about discretion or who sees his wife’s nudity, nor does he care that we are about to watch him whip her.
“If you don’t meet my expectations, there will be consequences,” he says as he brings down the belt onto her creamy flesh.
She yelps but holds her position, clenching the table on both sides with her tiny fists. Her sisterwife stands stoically near with no emotion on her face other than a slight flicker of her eyelids with each swat that is coming down in rapid succession now.
Scarecrow has no mercy and rains the leather down upon her over and over again. Each strike is harder than the last, and I already see angry red lashes that will surely bruise. Wife Number Two holds position and, though crying out, isn’t trying to reach back and protect herself.
She knows better.
It’s obvious that she knows better.
I can only stand and watch on helplessly. I know these two men in this room. If I try to stop it, it will just mean more of a whipping for Wife Number Two, and one for me as well. I can’t reason with insanity, and that is exactly what Scarecrow is.
This is insanity.
The deepest, darkest, cruelest, and most vile form of insanity.
When Scarecrow finally finishes the beating, he pulls away, loops his belt back into place, and hobbles his way to Wife Number One. I inhale sharply and close my eyes.
She’s next.
I open my eyes right as he takes a handful of her hair, forcefully pulls her head back, and says, “Now make us some supper, and don’t ever do that again, or Wife Number Two will pay for your transgressions once more.”
She nods and rushes to the makeshift cook station she has and begins digging in burlap bags for what looks like rotten potatoes and nearly rotten carrots.
Wife Number Two stands up and fixes her dress as she wipes away the tears from her face. She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone but instead makes her way over to Wife Number One and assists in the supper preparation.
Not knowing what else to do, I also walk over, reach for a potato and a knife, and begin cutting away the rot. Swallowing back the impending dread, I busy myself in the now.
All I have is right now.
6
Ember
I can hear Papa Rich and Scarecrow talking outside the door as they smoke their pipe and drink from a tin cup full of cheap whiskey—which they of course didn’t offer to any of the wives. They also ate most of the supper that we had prepared, though I didn’t mind one bit. My stomach is still nothing but a ball of nerves, and I’m not sure I could have held down much more than the couple of bites I did have dished up on my plate.
“We need to leave at first light tomorrow,” Papa Rich says. “I know we just got here, but I don’t like that the pilot knows our general location. He could tell the police where we’re at.”
“No, he’ll stay quiet. He’ll be in a shitload of trouble if he admits to helping wanted fugitives fly across state lines,” Scarecrow replies.
“And Louisa Davenport? What if she caves under questioning from her son? I can see that happening.”
“That rich bitch is going to keep her mouth shut too. Do you think she wants it known she helped us escape? Not only escape but gave us funds that will get us through the winter,” Scarecrow prompts.
“Still… I’m not comfortable with the fact. And though we may have stayed away from the authorities up until now, they are going to beef up looking for us even more now that we have Ember. Nevada isn’t safe for us anywhere. They will comb every inch of these mountains and deserts, and you know it.”
“It’s remote here.”
“Not remote enough for my liking.”
There’s a long pause, but then Scarecrow finally says, “So, you still thinking Wyoming?”
“Yes,” Papa Rich says. “Montana is an option, but a Ranger buddy of mine once told me of a very old and desolate town in the mountains. It will be in poor condition, but nothing we can’t handle.”
“And you’re positive we can find it? I’m just not liking the idea of having my wives travel through a huge state to hunt for a town we may or may not be able to find.”
“Which is why I’d like to suggest an idea I’ve been stewing on,” Papa Rich says as I hear him inhale deeply from the pipe he’s smoking. “I say you and I leave for now. It’s going to be winter soon, and from the looks of the sky, a storm is brewing. We brought back plenty of provisions for the women to live off of while we’re gone. The snow the storm will bring will keep them… securely in place until we return. We go and scout the area, find our new home, then come back and get your wives to start a new settlement.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about leaving the women alone up here. The winters are brutal.”
“I get that,” Papa Rich says. “But I know Ember knows how to survive just fine. I taught her well. I’m also sure your wives know how to make do. And I think you and I have a better chance buying that truck we saw and heading out on our own. Ember being with us could draw more attention.”
“The last time you left Ember unattended, she burned down an entire town. You really think we can trust her?”
“She’s learned from her mistakes, or she wouldn’t have left with us. We didn’t have to tie her up and drag her back here. Plus, you have your two wives to look after her. You know damn well those women wouldn’t dare anger you by doing something as foolish as trying to leave. Where would they go? What would they do?”
“You have valid points,” Scarecrow says slowly. There’s a long moment of silence, and then he adds, “We better get moving at first light. I don’t want to hike down the mountain in the snow and rain.”
“I don’t think Husband will appreciate you spying on his conversation,” a voice from behind me says, startling me as I spin to face my accuser.
“I—”
Wife Number One motions for me to follow her, fear in her eyes as she glances at the door, expecting it to open any second. “I just don’t want you to catch the wrath of Husband.”
I follow her to where Wife Number Two is working on masoning the fire pit with the river rock and the bucket of clay.
“Can I help?” I ask, grateful that Wife Number One is only trying to help rather than get me into trouble by telling Scarecrow and Papa Rich that I practically had my ear to the door.
“Snow is coming soon,” Wife Number Two says, not looking at me as she continues to build. “If we don’t get this hole patched up with a chimney, we’re going to freeze.” She points to the rocks. If you hand me one at a time, I’ll apply the clay. I can move faster that way.”