Chapter 13
The sun burned like a ball of raw fire, and Grace’s delicate, white skin turned a worrying shade of tomato red. There was nowhere to hide from it. Still, she tried, tearing some fabric from her petticoat and holding it over her head to make some shade.
“I tried that for a day or two,” Trudy said listlessly, lying in the sun. “The novelty wears off.”
“I suppose it does,” Grace said. “But without it, I’ll shrivel up like a prune.”
“They’ll bring water soon,” Mrs. Odenkirk said through thick, peeling lips. “You’ll want to drink it all in one go, but don’t. Save it. You get two cups a day and that’s it. No more.”
Grace nodded. Now that the sun was up, she took better stock of the people she was in cages with. There were a lot of prisoners, and none of them looked healthy. Several young girls were sitting in a cage together, their heads down. Where had all these people come from?
“Quite a menagerie, isn’t it?” Trudy asked. “They’ve been collecting us for weeks now. I think they must have the whole set by now. Although, I don’t know where you fit in.” She peered at Grace.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, like I said before, I’m here for my father. Mrs. Odenkirk is here for her husband and sons, and the girls and boys there are connected to various families,” Trudy said. “So, who are you in for?”
Grace understood. Who was she blackmail bait for? That was what Trudy was asking her.
“I’m here for my husband,” Grace said. “He’s a deputy sheriff.”
“Really? From where?” Mrs. Odenkirk asked. “We don’t have much in the line of lawmen around these parts. We’ve never needed them until now.”
“We had that marshal … What was his name?” Trudy asked.
“Oh, old Elijah Turner?” Mrs. Odenkirk asked, leaning against the bars.
“Yeah, that man,” Trudy said, lazily waving a fly off her nose. “What happened to him?”
“He died,” Mrs. Odenkirk said flatly.
There was a moment’s silence.
“Too bad,” Trudy said. “I liked the old codger.”
“So, where you from?” Mrs. Odenkirk asked Grace.
“Originally or lately?” Grace asked.
“Oooh, both,” Trudy said.
Grace told her the story of how she had been born and raised in a small coal mining town and then traveled west to Texas to marry Hunter.
“I should have known,” Trudy said, the friendliness in her eyes diminishing. “You’re one of them, the folks who brought all the bad luck to this area. You know, we had a lovely time of it before you and your stupid town came along. There was no trouble.”
“That’s not fair, Trudy,” Mrs. Odenkirk snapped.
“It’s not her fault or the fault of those men who started up the copper mine.
They came out here much as we did, wanting to start afresh.
And yet trouble found them, and it found us too.
We can’t blame them. I get the feeling El Aguila was coming this way anyway.
He must have thought he’d died and gone to heaven, finding a community of farmers with only one old lawman working the area.
It was the easiest thing in the world for him to move in. ”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “Of course, he didn’t have it all his own way. Clearly. Because why else would he resort to taking prisoners as insurance? Something must be bothering him.”
Grace considered it. “How long have you all been here?”
“Couple of weeks,” Mrs. Odenkirk said. “Trudy has been here ten days so far, and the others for shorter times. Mrs. Pike was still alive when I got here. So, I guess she was here the longest. Poor thing. She really wasn’t made for outdoor living.”
“What does that mean?” Grace asked.
“She was a kind and gentle woman,” Trudy said sadly. “She wasn’t strong enough to survive this place.”
Grace swallowed, her thick, dry throat aching.
She wasn’t sure if she was made to survive this either.
She sighed. It was so hot. She could see that as the sun moved, they would get some afternoon shade, but that wouldn’t be for hours yet.
The little bit of conversation dried up like water that had been thrown over them.
She idly thought that another bucket of water thrown in her face would be most welcome now.
Where was Hunter? Was he looking for her?
Of that, Grace was sure. Her husband wouldn’t stop until he found her. She was pretty sure that he would rope the others into the search for her as well. If there was one thing she knew about the townsfolk without a doubt, it was that they stuck together.
It was clear from the way they had been stockpiling things for emergencies that they thought in terms of everyone, not just one person. Also, her time spent with Anita and Emily illustrated that well.
The conversation had been all about the plans the town had for expansion, for becoming a “proper town,” as they put it.
When Hunter was hit in the head, everyone had come to help.
Even folks she hadn’t met yet had said a kind word or offered to be of service.
That level of community was difficult to manufacture.
It only came about when folks loved living together and had a common goal—making the town feel like home.
“We should call it Harmony,” Grace muttered.
“What?” Trudy asked.
“The town, we don’t have a name for it yet,” Grace explained. “I think Harmony would be a good name.”
“No, that’s a terrible name,” Trudy said. “It hasn’t brought harmony to the area. You should call it Strife. It’s more accurate.”
Grace shook her head. “Nope, I like Harmony. It’s about what we’re striving for, not what others have turned the dream into.
It’s not fair to judge what they’ve been doing there, building, creating, offering opportunities to others, and casting it all in a dim light because of one evil man and his sycophantic followers. ”
Trudy glared at her. “You talk too much.”
Silence drifted between them. Grace longed to see Hunter.
She wanted to know how his head wound was.
She wanted to be there with him, playing gin rummy and allowing him to win every third or fourth game so he didn’t feel bad.
That’s what she longed to do, but she was stuck in this stupid cage, hungry, tired, and dreadfully thirsty.
A little while later, a boy was brought to the cage with the other boys and thrown in. He was crying and had a thick lip.
“One of the Pike twins,” Trudy said sadly.
Grace looked over at the boy, but he just lowered his head on his arms and didn’t look up again.
Pike. Like the woman who had died in the cage.
Grace suddenly realized they would all die unless someone did something. She hoped that Hunter would come for her, but there was no guarantee that he had any idea where to look for her. He had been out every day for a week, and he hadn’t found this place. So why would he find it now?
There was the sound of boots on the hard-packed earth. Looking up, Grace saw men coming with buckets.
Another dousing?
The other prisoners picked up their tin plates and cups, producing them from heaven knew where, and went to stand at the bars.
Grace looked around, found a bowl and a cup that didn’t look too filthy, and stood up. She went to Trudy and stood beside her, her cup and bowl, which fitted through the bars, held out.
The men walked down the line, pouring slop into the bowls and water into the mugs. Then each person was given a chunk of rough, salty, stale bread, and that was it.
Trudy sat and ate ravenously, but she only sipped her water a little, placing it carefully in an indentation she had made in the ground beside where she sat.
Grace found a similar indentation and put her mug there too.
The food was terrible, and the bread was worse.
She tried soaking the bread in the slop, but that didn’t make it more edible. In the end, she left it and just drank down the watery mush, which seemed to be mostly leeks and carrots.
A little while later, she noticed that the men who had served them the terrible food were sitting down to a similarly horrible meal. They sat on tree stumps and, from the conversation she could hear, they didn’t like what they had either.
They were teasing one of the men sitting there for his terrible cooking and baking skills.
“Oh, like you do so much better,” the man snapped back. “Your bread is even worse!”
“I think I broke a tooth,” one of the others complained.
Suddenly, Grace had an idea.
“Excuse me!” she called, moving to the bars.
She stuck an arm through and waved. “Hello! Sorry to interrupt, but you do realize that you have a wealth of cooking information right here, don’t you?
I mean, you don’t have to let us out, but we can certainly give you some tips.
Then your meals can be a lot better, and you can save your remaining teeth. ”
The three men turned and stared at her. Trudy glared at her so fiercely Grace figured she’d have been dead if eyes were daggers.
“I’m a baker, and I can tell that you forgot to let the dough rise,” Grace said. “You also didn’t add any oil or much water. From the look of this,” and here she clanged a bar with the bread, “you have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
The men had a hastily whispered conversation. When they were done, one of them turned to face her.
“Shut your mouth, or we’ll shut it for you!” one of them shouted, and they turned back to their terrible meal.
Well, it was worth a try. She sat back down and sighed.
“What did you do that for?” Trudy demanded. “Now you’ve drawn unwanted attention to us, just like your town!”
Mrs. Odenkirk smiled. “Not a bad plan,” she said. “Let’s see if it works.”
They finished eating and sipping their water and the sun moved on. Shade began to creep across the cages. Grace had never been happier. The relief was palpable. She closed her eyes and must have dozed off because she came to with a jerk when one of the guards came over and knocked on the bars.
“Hey,” he said. He was the shortest of the three guards and a little pudgy around the middle. He peered at her with dark eyes. “You said you know about cooking.”
Grace sat up in surprise and gave a sleepy nod.
“How do you make bread soft?” he asked.