Distortion

May 10, 1884 - Taken

The full moon cast its shadow, giving everything in its wake, an eerie feel. It hadn't felt like this earlier.

I quickened my step. It wasn't far; I would just walk as quickly as possible, grab the shawl and hurry back. Back and forth I scanned the field. Inexplicably, fear crept up my spine one vertebrae at a time. Why was I behaving like this, I wasn't a coward.

I spied the shawl lying in the middle of the front seat of the buckboard, just out of my reach. Raising my dress up, I hoisted myself up on a wheel. On tiptoes, holding onto the side with one hand, and leaning over to reach the shawl with the other, I snatched it and turned to get back to the barn as fast as possible.

That's when they slithered out from the shadows, their faces emotionless. With every nerve on alert, my breathing accelerated at an alarming rate. I edged toward the buckboard, not that it would offer any protection.

Before I found my vocal cords, Zeke and Luther, Ethan's cronies, dug their dirty fingernails into my biceps. The shawl dropped, floating to the ground. "Merrick!" I screamed as I twisted violently, trying to free myself. They jerked me back hard, slamming my back against the buckboard. Pain shot up my spine into my skull.

His putrid smell had reached me before he did, nearly causing me to dry heave. "Glad to see me, are you?" Ethan thrust a grimy, dusty red bandanna taut against my mouth. "Stone won't be coming for you this time, sweetheart." I whipped my head frantically from side to side, but it was too hard to move in this dress and freaking corset. He secured the bandanna tightly, agonizingly so, tying it at the back of my head.

My tongue couldn't avoid it; it tasted of dirt and blood making me want to vomit. I wondered whose blood it was. Breathing heavily from fear and lack of oxygen, I felt like I was going to suffocate. A muffled scream escaped my throat, but not my mouth. No one could hear me! My eyes desperately scanned the grounds for someone, anyone to help. Not a soul was in sight. The buckboard was too far from the doors. I could hear them all in the barn, the loud music and laughter drifting out toward us.

I flung myself to one side then the next, trying to free myself from their claws. It only made Zeke and Luther clamp down tighter. Luther wasn't limping. But the way he looked at me like he would cut me up right there, let me know he blamed me for Merrick stabbing his leg. An involuntary cry of pain escaped my dry throat as his hand squeezed around my neck.

"He needs her unharmed, so we're not going to hurt her—too badly." Ethan shoved Luther away and seeing this Zeke also let me go. Ethan then wrenched my arms behind my back and laughed in a way that made my stomach churn. He twisted me around, shoved my face against the wagon and tied my wrists together. The rope burned, biting into the material of my thin white gloves. It was so tight it nearly stopped the flow of blood in my veins.

He stood me up straight and then with a malicious smile shoved my shoulder with his meaty finger. Without my hands free to catch myself, I stumbled backwards and my head hit the ground with an unnatural thud. An intense bolt of pain shot through my skull and behind my eyes. My mouth went wide in a spasm of agony. Lying on the grass in a haze, I struggled to regain my bearings. There was little I could do but flip onto my stomach and try to push myself back into a kneeling position.

Before I could, Ethan caught both my ankles in his hands. He was enjoying this, torturing me, inflicting pain. Basking in my fear. Flipping me onto my back, he grunted, "Blasted dresses." Anger and dread surged through my body. "No!" I screamed through the muffled rag. He pulled out a knife, and the silver flashed in my face. Tugging at my dress Ethan cut away the beautiful train. I thought he was going to do something worse. A small part of me breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hurry up Ethan, they're waitin'," Zeke urged in a hushed tone.

Working together in silence, Luther lifted me up under my armpits, which were now perspiring from shock and fear. Ethan grabbed my legs, and they threw me over his horse. I squirmed as Ethan mounted up behind me. I didn't want to be anywhere near this monster. With a kick of his spurred heels, the horse broke out in a dead run. Away from the lights. Away from the music. Away from Merrick.

I trembled with panic. This was a nightmare. This could not be happening.

The movement of the horse repetitively jarred my body, and I felt like a rag doll being carelessly thrown around. When would Merrick notice me missing?

Hearing a wagon approaching, Ethan slowed the horse to a walk. Maybe it was someone who could help. Would Ethan kill anyone who tried to interfere? Taking me like this, all tied up, I knew he was set on getting me wherever it was he had intended the first time he found me on Merrick's property.

"Anyone see you?" a familiar voice asked. Every muscle in my body frosted over. It was one of the voices from the silver mine. Why would he be here? It wasn't me they were looking for, it was Bryce.

I was seized around the waist. Ethan assisted the stranger, practically shoving me off his horse. The man was standing in the back of an old wagon, probably a stolen one. Without giving any thought to my comfort, he dumped me next to him.

Dread multiplied ten-fold when I got my first good look at the man behind the voice. Sun-bleached blond hair, a handlebar mustache so full it looked like someone had glued a fluffy cat's tail above his lip. His cold gray eyes held no sign of compassion or anything resembling it. My skin prickled against the soft purple fabric of my dress.

There was another man, the driver, probably the other one from the mine. I couldn't see his face, but I didn't need to. From his profile, I glimpsed a thick pink scar that ran from the corner of his eye, down into his beard and onto his throat. His face was hard, the angles unforgiving.

Ignoring the commotion, he stared straight ahead as though nothing was happening in the back.

"Course no one saw us." Ethan sounded agitated. "We delivered the girl, now where's our money?"

"Considering it took you longer than agreed, we're cutting your fee by a third." The man's voice was even, mild like this was a typical business transaction.

Ethan protested, resting his hand on his gun in a silent threat. "We done what you asked and you'll pay us every cent." The slight quaver in his voice betrayed his words.

I thought I heard the driver mutter, "Idiots."

"I'll just as soon kill you." The stranger jumped down from the wagon to punctuate his words.

Ethan reached for this gun. In the blink of an eye, Mustachio drew his weapon, startling Ethan. Luther and Zeke slyly inched their hands towards their guns, which were holstered onto their horses.

"Seriously?" Mustachio sound concerned, just annoyed.

Their hands retreated. In a quiet tone that frightened me more his looks, the man spoke as took a step toward Ethan and his men. "Have you forgotten who we are? If so, I would advise you to remember quickly."

Ethan immediately backed down. He had seemed so tough and intimidating minutes ago, but now he just looked pathetic. Watching Ethan nearly shrink into himself, a new fear found its place with me. If a man as violent as Ethan was intimidated, what was this other guy capable of? He'd threatened murder as if it were an everyday proposition.

"You're more trouble than you're worth," Mustachio grumbled. He reached into his checkered vest pocket, took out a wad of cash and threw it at Ethan. "And you're a waste of my time."

Ethan watched them float to the ground, itching to collect his payment.

The driver coughed, compelling his partner to hurry. That snapped his attention back to me who, lying discarded on the floor of the wagon. He leveled his heartless gray eyes on me, then back to Ethan. He put his gun back in his belt. He'd already made his point, and there was no sign that Ethan wanted to challenge him.

I wasn't struggling or yelling; I just lay there. No one would hear me anyway. I'd save my strength for the fight I knew would be coming.

"If I hear about any of you boys flappin' your jaw about this, I will take the privilege of killing you myself. Understood?"

Ethan shot me a look that said he wished he'd never laid eyes on me. Pure hatred. The feeling was mutual. He grudgingly gave my kidnapper a nod.