Marlin shook his head, the veins pulsing on his arms. He pulled Nessa to him. “I'm not givin' her up. I don't care what you do to me.”
Doc blew out a tired breath. “Marlin, my boy, I like you. That's why you aren't being dragged apart by a team of horses right now. But, I don't have time for this argument. You hand over the girl, or we take her.” Doc tilted his head and waited.
Marlin's arms sagged around her. “Please,” he whispered, “don't hurt her.”
Nessa cried out as Marlin's arms were wrenched back. She reached for him, but his eyes were on the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks and dripping on his boots.
He couldn't protect her after all.
***
The basement cell was cold. Nessa shivered and tried to find comfort on the stiff cot, but her giant belly made it impossible. Miserable, she hauled herself up, the cot creaking. In the dim light filtering under the door at the top of the stairs, she could make out her root-cellar prison. Canned goods lined the shelves to the right: peaches, rhubarb and prickly pear. The other wall was hard-packed dirt, bare and lifeless. She staggered up and shuffled over.
The dark indentations she could see from her cot now formed into names scrapped into the dirt with fingernails or bits of rock. She ran a finger over Denise, Marisol, Ann. All the girls who'd shared her fate. Where were they now? Her finger traced the looped G of Georgia. Would she meet Georgia where she was going?
She shuffled to the cot and dropped onto it. Dust spewed into the air as the canvas snapped taut beneath her. Inside, the baby had begun his nightly hiccupping. The boy. What would become of him?
Voices mumbled upstairs. Doc's men hadn't mistreated her. They’d escorted her directly to his house at the end of the street, a grand white home with a wrap-around porch, rocking chairs resting on either side. The inside was just as opulent: a silver tea set on a carved oak table, an upright piano, a cushioned settee. She'd only seen the sitting room and the kitchen, but knew it was the nicest house she'd ever been in.
Her current accommodations, however, were a little less lavish.
A roar of voices sounded above. Someone had lost at cards. A few chairs scraped back and footsteps pounded toward the door, then distant chuckles. The men had been drinking and playing poker for over an hour. It was only a matter of time before someone got caught cheating. Then again, they might take a powder and come downstairs. Even loyal men weren’t above raping a pregnant woman when they’d had enough gin. She clutched the sides of the cot and listened.
Above the voices returned to hushed murmurs. She rolled over and stared at the beam of light at the top of the stairs. Dust motes sifted lazily through. Where was Marlin? Drinking away his sorrows at the brothel? Spending a night with Beth to ease his pain? A twang of jealousy struck her. She'd never felt jealous in her life except maybe that she hadn't been born a boy. And now here was this emotion as new and raw as a knife wound. Nessa did the three-step process it took to roll her body over and stared at the wall. What good did her jealousy do her? Marlin was gone.
***
Morning light was spilling through the door when Nessa woke. She pulled herself upright, one hand rubbing sleep out of her eyes. A body tromped down the stairs. Her eyes focused on the shadowed figure until Doc emerged, his boots clicking on the steps. He held a breakfast tray in his hands. She pushed up, stood and crossed her arms over her swollen breasts. How fierce could one look in a cotton night dress and bare feet?
“Well, now, don't look so stern, little lady,” Doc said, holding out the tray. “I brung you bacon and that's more than I can say for the posse upstairs, so how 'bouts a smile?”
Nessa lifted a mock smile and kept her arms barricaded across her chest. Doc set the tray on the floor and gestured for her to sit. Today he was wearing a white button-down shirt, black slacks and a different pair of gleaming cowboy boots. His white hair and mustache were pristine. As he lowered himself on a wooden keg, he straightened the creases of his pants.
“So,” he said, blowing up the corners of his mustache, “you thought of a name yet?” He nodded to the swell of her belly.
Nessa's hand found the spot where his eyes looked. The baby's feet fluttered beneath her ribs. She shook her head. “Marlin called him the boy.”
Doc stroked his chin, considering. “No, that won't do. Boy needs a name. Ain't no kinda man if you ain't got a proper name.”
Nessa lifted her eyes to her captor. “What does it matter? I won't get to keep him.”
At this Doc sniffed and dropped his eyes. “I had a mother once.”
Nessa frowned. Did he think a sob story would win her over? Every goddamn person on the planet had a sob story these days.
“I'm not a heartless man, Nessa. My momma, Clarice was her name, she worked hard every day of her life. She kept me and my two brothers fed by having relations with men. This was before the Breeders, you see.” Doc stopped and brushed a fleck of dirt from the knee of his pants. “When I was twelve, a gang of three men came and stole my momma. My brothers and I tracked those sons-of-bitches down. Took weeks. By then, it was too late. We found her corpse cut into four pieces and burned. One can only guess what they did to her before that.” He touched a trembling hand to his hair and smoothed it.
Nessa had been clutching her bed dress with white knuckles. She released the bunched fabric and swallowed hard. “I'm sorry.”
Doc looked up, his old eyes shining behind his spectacles. “Don't be sorry. Your life ain't any prettier. That's what I want to tell ya.” He leaned forward. “Where I'm taking you, no gang of men can get at ya. It'll be peaceful. Safe.” He rose, dusting off his pants. “I want that kind of life for you, Nessa. For all my girls. It's the life I will never give my momma, God rest her soul.”
“What will they do to me?” she asked, her heart suddenly thumping.
Doc sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “They make babies, Nessa. Not much different than what you're doing now, right?”
Nessa shook her head. She'd be forced to make more babies? She didn't even want this one.
Doc turned toward the stairs.
She pushed up. “Wait! What about Marlin?”
Doc peered down on her from above. The light around his head highlighted his white hair. “Trust me, darlin',” he said, “from what I've seen, promises of love fail. Safety: that's a promise that never will.”
***
They loaded her in the carriage the next day. The rounded enclosure reminded Nessa of a wild west stage coach, Frankensteined with truck tires, aluminum siding, wooden planks, and even a metal speed limit sign folded over the back. Two brown mares were harnessed to the front, stamping and swishing their tails. Two men clung to handles on each side, shotguns strapped to their backs. The carriage driver had two giant revolvers at his hips. They were protecting precious cargo. Nessa almost felt flattered.
The horses blew out puffs of breath as they approached. One turned a big round eye in her direction and blinked at her.
“No trucks?” she asked Doc.
He shook his head as he led her over the uneven street, the sun beating down on their heads. “Don't believe in 'em. Break down too easy.”
Doc gave her a gentle tug forward. In the center of the rounded carriage a door stood ajar. Plush benches lined either wall.
“This is us,” Doc said, nodding inside. He helped her up the two steps, his hand on her elbow. The carriage rocked with her weight as she lowered herself onto the bench. Doc took his place beside her, shut the heavy wooden door and slid the bolt. The interior was dim, but she could tell he was smiling kindly at her. “Ready?” he asked.
He was every bit a grandfather. For a moment Nessa expected him to take her hand, pat it gently. Instead he tapped his cane to the roof in two sharp raps.
The carriage lurched forward. Nessa circled her belly with her hands and stared at the ceiling as they rocked back and forth. Ma used to say worry was like pulling at loose threads fearing your
life would unravel. The thought wasn’t comforting. Her ma’s life unraveled far too young. And it seemed Nessa was on the same path.
A pain twanged low in her abdomen. Braxton Hicks. The child development book Marlin had scrounged for her had spilled half its pages before it met her hands, but it still had the chapters on labor and delivery. She'd read it twelve times, knowing if it came to it, she'd have to deliver the baby herself. But, it was weeks too early for any sign. She'd have this baby in that Breeders’ hospital with all the medical amenities Doc had described. Still, the tug below her navel tightened into a cramp that made her suck in a sharp breath. It couldn't be time, could it?
The carriage hit a sharp dip. The jolt rocked Nessa out of her thoughts. As she reached up to grab a handle nailed to the wall, she noticed the horses galloped at top speed. The carriage bounced wildly over the cracked road, the vibrations rattling her teeth. These speeds would wear the horses out long before they reached their destination. Galloping made no sense. Unless…
A gun shot cracked in the distance. Nessa snapped upright, looking at Doc. Someone was after them.
Doc stiffened, a hand clutching the side of the rocking carriage. His wide eyes, magnified by his spectacles, looked back at Nessa in surprise. From beneath his travel duster he drew out a small silver revolver. He swiveled in his seat and slid back a panel of wood in the wall behind him, revealing a patch of hazy blue-white sky.
“What in the hell's goin' on out there, Jerrin?” Doc said, gripping the sides of the opening to keep upright with the sway of the carriage. Another gun shot, this time from the left. Doc cringed and then leaned into the hole. “Jesus Christ, is it harriers?” he shouted.
Fear pumped through Nessa's body as she struggled to keep from slamming into the carriage walls. They hit another dip. The carriage flew up and slammed back hard. Nessa's jaw snapped down and a tang of blood filled her mouth. Then another pain cramped in her abdomen. She moaned. It didn't feel like Braxton Hicks.
Splinters of wood spewed into the carriage. A bullet tore through the wooden siding near Nessa's head. She screamed and covered her face. The horses skidded left and her shoulder smacked into the wall.
This was how she'd die.
When she opened her eyes, Doc was yanking off a panel in the wall behind his head. He threw the board to the floor and slid out. Then he stood, his legs inside with her, his torso bobbing in the open window. He fired twice, the gunshots loud in the carriage, the smell of smoke curling inside. Two shots answered. The carriage swerved and Nessa tumbled to the floor. Another pain in her abdomen, a fist that squeezed and squeezed until she cried out. She curled into herself and tried to breath.
Doc pulled back into the carriage, panting. Blood slid down his sleeve from a wound in his arm. His white hair fluttered in wild tufts. He sat back, wide-eyed. “Goddamn it.” He dug in his pockets. With trembling fingers he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead.
Nessa's eyes rested on the smudge of blood on Doc's pristine white collar. “Who’s after us?”
Doc looked up at her. “Gonna have to kill ‘em. Was gonna leave ‘em well enough alone, but now….” He flicked out the revolver's chamber, thumbed in two more bullets and snapped it shut. Then he hefted himself back through the hole in the window. He disappeared, leaving a rectangle of sky inside a wooden frame.
More gunshots. A bullet pinged off something metal above her. The carriage careened and Nessa rolled uncontrollably around the floor. Another cramp squeezed her abdomen. She winced and pressed her palms to her stomach. The baby had gone surprisingly still. To lose him now… What a waste of nine months.
The carriage lurched to a stop. Nessa flew into the bench, knees smacking into the paneling. Outside men shouted. Two more gun shots. A scream. Nessa curled into a ball and trembled. Another pain quaked through her body. She bit her tongue and waited for the cramp to subside. Cramp, who was she kidding? The book called them contractions. She'd have this baby on the floor of this carriage while marauders killed everyone outside. Then they'd come for her.
The carriage door flew open and a blast of light blinded her. A shadow reached in.
“Don't!” she shouted, scrambling into the carriage.
Hands tugged at her arms and hauled her up. “Baby,” he said. She opened her eyes.
Marlin. She pressed her face to his sweaty dirt-streaked chest. He was alive. She pulled back and looked him over. A cloth had been tied over a large c-shaped wound on the side of his face. Otherwise, he looked intact.
“You came.” She wrapped her arms around him, suddenly close to weeping.
“Sure as shootin' I did,” he said, smiling, revealing his front teeth, pink with blood. Then he pressed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was like their first. Her body flooded with want as he pulled her to him. He locked his arms around her back. She gripped his shoulders, leaning closer until her belly prevented it. Only now it didn't seem like an intrusion. It seemed like part of their whole.
Another contraction tightened her stomach. She balled her fists against Marlin's back and moaned.
He pulled back. “The baby?” Fear flooded his face.
She nodded, her face tightening as the contraction intensified.
“Shit,” he said, turning. “Come on.”
He helped her out of the carriage into the daylight. Seeing the bloodshed temporarily took her mind off the pain. A dead man was splayed in the road, half his guts in bloody coils beside him. She turned away and found Marlin's posse: three men, one securing several horses to the back of the carriage, one writhing on the ground in a pool of his own blood and another tending his wounds. Marlin led her over to the man who was tying strips of cloth around his friend's wounded leg.
“Slim, my lady's in a bad way. 'Bout to deliver. Can you help?”
Slim looked up from the strip of t-shirt he was cinching around the other man's thigh. He wiped blood on his jeans and looked Nessa over. He shook his head and went back to knotting the bloody rag. “Don't know nothing 'bout babies.”
Marlin yanked on Slim's shoulder. “Well, you better figure it out.” He drew his gun.
Nessa put a hand on Marlin's arm. “I can do it myself,” she said, blowing out a breath. Could she? She'd sure as hell find out.
Marlin gave her a questioning look.
“I'm a woman, aren't I?” she asked, waddling back over to the carriage. Doubt and fear pressed down on her as another cramp circled her abdomen.
When they got back to the carriage, she found Doc. He sat with his back to a tire, a giant red stain on his abdomen. He lifted his head and held a hand out to Nessa as she gripped the doorway to go in. His face was ancient, wrinkled and sallow.
“Didn't want this,” he wheezed, blood dribbling down his chin. “Didn't want anyone to get hurt.”
Marlin snorted. “Didn't want anyone to git hurt? You think you can take what's mine and not git hurt, ol' man?” Marlin spit into the dust. “I ain't yer lackey anymore.”
“Enough, Marlin,” Nessa said, through gritted teeth. The pain in her belly radiated out until her whole body pulsed like a poisoned heart. She doubled over. Maybe she couldn't do this. Maybe she'd die right here in the dirt.
Doc touched her ankle, his bloody fingertip pressing a red oval onto her skin. “'Member what I said,” Doc wheezed. “Love fades. He can't keep you safe.” He flicked his hand toward Marlin.
A gun went off behind her. Nessa lurched forward, hands flying to her face, ears ringing. When she realized she wasn't dead, she whirled around. Marlin held a smoking revolver in one hand, his eyes dark and unforgiving. She swiveled to Doc. A large red hole had sprouted on his chest. He was dead.
“Christ,” she said, turning to glare at Marlin. “You didn't have to do that.”
Marlin holstered his gun and shrugged. “Wanted to.”
Nessa felt a cold chill run through her arms. She was about to scold Marlin when another contraction drove the thought out of her h
ead. She pulled herself inside of the carriage, dragging her weak legs behind her. Her body prickled with sweat. She pressed her forehead into the cushioned seat and rode out as many contractions as she could, sucking musty air with her face buried in velvet.
Finally, the urge to push overtook her body. She locked her mind away and let her body tell her what to do. She found the strength to heft herself up and squat, holding onto the bench with white knuckles. The pain tore through her. Marlin. She needed him. He stood, white-faced in the open doorway.
“Help me!” she shouted.
Marlin held his hands up, useless. “What do I do?” He could shoot a man from 200 yards, but when it came to birthing babies he froze.
“Help hold me up.” Nessa gritted her teeth as pain snapped through her body. The baby was ripping her open.
Marlin shuffled in. “Where do I–”
“Just get in here!” Nessa leaned over and panted.
When the pain was raw shock-wave in her groin, she pushed. She pushed and pushed and pushed. She held onto Marlin's hand until his fingers whitened. She shuffled around and pushed. She sat and pushed. This baby would gut her from the inside out and leave her unraveled like the dead man on the road. Still, she pushed.
“Oh my god,” Marlin breathed. He reached down and drew the child from her.
The baby squalled. Nessa fell to her knees and sobbed. She closed her eyes. It was finished.
She lay on the floor, unable to move. Marlin went out and came back with a t-shirt to wrap the baby in. He held the bundle out. Nessa shook her head, but he placed the boy on her chest and was gone. She called after him but got no response. She pulled the bundle to her sweat-soaked chest and looked down.
Puffy, purple and mewling, it didn't look like a baby at all. This creature’s coned head was plastered with dark, whorls of hair. Its eyes were squeezed shut, but its red mouth was wide, wide open, a yowling maw of want. She stared at this thing, tyrannically waving its little fists. What was she supposed to feel? She held a life she'd created inside her own body. He shared her blood. He was still, in fact, connected to her. She looked into his face and tried to see any resemblance. Then he opened his eyes.
They were blue, large and her exact shade. She stared into those blue irises and a window opened into her soul. Her heart began to melt. Her son. He had her eyes.