The Five Dollar Mail (Book 1: The Green & Book 2: Lynch's Boys)

38: The Dunnest Smoke of Hell

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Jesse by  Marina Gimenes Matiazi. All graphics by me.

Jesse stumbled for what felt to him like about the hundreth time. He staggered forward on the uneven footing, his arms jerking involuntarily as he instinctively tried and failed to throw them in front of himself for balance. Someone grabbed his shoulder, roughly steadying him.

He was startled at how grateful he felt for that brief kindness. Up to this point, he'd either had to gain his balance as best he could himself, or simply fall down. And he was finding out that falling with his arms bound behind him and a bag over his head was a rough way to fall. Especially since on more than one occasion, someone...probably Galloway...had kicked him while he was down. His whole body ached from the licks he'd taken in the saloon, and adding more bruises and blows from simply losing his footing was adding insult to injury.

He tried to step carefully, his boots blindly shifting on the sometimes rocky, sometimes slippery terrain, but if he slowed his pace, he'd get a rough shove from behind that too frequently ended up knocking him down anyway.

His wrists were raw, abraded with hemp splinters from the rope binding them, and they itched and ached. He'd long since quit trying to slip free. And the fact that he couldn't tell where he'd been taken, couldn't see anything but the glare of a lantern through the rough fabric of the feedsack over his head increased his panic, turned his senses up to full volume.

He could tell a few things about his surroundings. He knew he was with Galloway and Littlewolf. He had heard them say they were headed out to the mine, and he was fairly certain they were walking through some dark, dank tunnel. He could tell when the sound of their footfalls and the feel of the air changed. And the last time he'd sprawled hard onto the ground, he could feel a stone floor covered with fine powder and sharp gravel that bit into his chest and shoulder, and crunched into his right knee so hard that for a few minutes he was glad to have a floursack covering his face.

Sometime back, they'd stopped briefly and he'd heard hinges creak and complain as a door was opened and then closed behind them as they passed through. The sound echoed and and resonated down a long, empty corridor.

They're draggin' me down here to kill me, his mind chattered at him. He took a deep breath, calming himself. It hadn't taken him too long to figure out that any resistance he put up earned him abuse he couldn't defend against. No point fightin' now, Farm Boy. Can't see and you can't take a swing. Wait till you got something to work with. You don't wanna be so stove up ya can't fight when you get the chance... I can't die here. I can't leave Lily alone. Not like this...

He knew she'd do anything for him. Anything. She'll put herself in danger for me. I can't let it reach that point, I gotta get myself out of this. His stomach lurched when he thought about Saint lying on the saloon floor, and he wondered if his friend was even still alive. What if I got him killed? What if he's dead? The thought was too much. His eyes started to burn. What's going to happen to Lily? They're gonna go after her, if they ain't already. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? Panic surged up his throat and he felt the burn of acid in his mouth. He'd never felt so helpless and desperate in his life. He flexed his wrists one more time to see if there was any play or weak spots that might have magically appeared in the rope.

There wasn't.

God...I know I ain't exactly been on the straight and narrow...but me and Lily and the fellas could use some help right now. If not for us...well...at least help Lily. She don't deserve this.

"You fall down one more time..." Galloway spat, his fingers digging painfully into Jesse's bicep as he jerked him back to what Jesse supposed was the center of the corridor.

"What the hell do you expect?" Jesse snapped, the sack making his own voice in his ears sound muffled. "I can't see where I'm..." He yelped as he was wheeled abruptly sideways and slammed hard into the rough rock wall. His chin struck the rock and and stars lit up the inside of the flour sack. He tasted blood. Galloway grabbed his elbow and wrenched his arms up behind him, pinning him into the wall.

"Shut up," Galloway barked. "You don't talk. You listen."

The stars were rapidly being replaced with a red tinged haze of rage. "You chickenshit piece of..." Jesse twisted, trying to shove off the wall with his thighs and shoulder. "You know how this'd go if my hands were free..."

His arms were twisted harder and bolts of lightning exploded through his shoulders. He gasped, sagging helplessly in Galloway's grip.

"I want to kill you," Said Galloway matter of factly. "If it were up to me, you'd already be dead and so would your homely little sister. So don't think you're still breathing on account of my wishes."

So why am I? What's the game? Fresh firebolts went through his shoulders as Galloway gave his arms another excruciating twist and he bit back a cry. His head was jerked back as Galloway grabbed a handful of floursack and hair, pulling the fabric hard against his face. The cord holding it in place cut into his throat, catching under his jaw, making it hard to breathe.

"So shut up and listen if you don't want to die tonight," Galloway breathed close to his ear. "You're underground. You don't want to get lost. And some of the pits and chasms in here have Chinamen looking up the other end of them. You smart enough to understand me, hillbilly?"

Galloway suddenly snatched hard on the sack around Jesse's head, throwing him off balance, stopping the breath in his throat for a moment. He spun Jesse around and gave him a brutal shove, throwing him violently to the floor.

"So stay put and pray your sister likes you more than I do." The pair of footfalls died away with the retreating lamplight, leaving a silence as total as the darkness.

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