Reluctant Siren

Author's Note: Please be gentle. I was pretty young when I wrote this, and reading it again, I see what a hack job it was. I want to turn this into something with a bit more...depth maybe? to it. Let me know what you think about it, be honest. Thanks!

Reluctant Siren

If only he hadn’t given me that look. It was the way he looked at me that signed our fate. His eyes roamed over me in such an honest, frightening way, that I was caught off guard. No one had ever looked at me, truly looked at me. And here was a stranger, giving me a look that could cause a war, build a nation, break a woman’s will.

I should have known that John would notice. He always noticed when a man looked my way. But my brain was heavy with him, my reactions slow. I tried to warn him . . . I knew what John had planned for him. But, he wouldn’t listen . . . Now years later, I wonder how my life would have changed if I had run away with that beautiful man.

❖❖❖

My dreams were heavy, oppressive. Drowning me in a sea of memories and regrets. Hands groping at my body, fumbling, ripping buttons and lace. I wanted to say no, wanted to cry out, but I knew no one would hear. Somehow I wanted it to happen, even though it disgusted and repelled me.

Gasping for breath, I sat up, forcing the dream from my mind. I couldn’t think about it, wouldn’t let myself. There was too much to be done.

So much, that the work never really ended. This was not an easy life, living in the west, being settlers. I missed the east with its cities and life. But the prairie had a draw of it’s own. It was a harsh mistress. You either made it, or died. There was no forgiveness here.

My family and I had moved here just a few months ago. Just outside of Cherryvale, Kansas. It was the typical town of close-knit families with suspicious minds.

As I prepared to start the day’s chores, I suddenly realized that today was my twentieth birthday. Smiling, I got some chicken feed and walked out the door. As the birds chased the seed, I was deep in thought. I was now an old maid. Girls my age were already married with a family on the way. And here I was still supporting my family.

Well, maybe not supporting, but my mother and father couldn’t speak English very well. They still considered themselves Germans and didn’t put forth the effort to learn the language of our new home. And John, well, no one in town had much to do with him. John didn’t feel shunned, he had as little to do with town as possible. So it was left to me to buy feed, socialize at church, try to make our family seem less odd and more acceptable.

It was a hard task. We were considered outsiders with strange ways. Very few people came from nearby came to our store, it was always men on their way to California.

Our store was barely that, it was a counter with the bare necessities behind it. But we also advertised my mother’s cooking and a place to spend the night. And so we made a little money, very little.

I shook myself out of my thoughts, and went on with my chores. There was too much for me to do to be daydreaming.

❖❖❖

The wagon creaked and groaned on the long ride into town. There were times when I was worried that the axel would break and John and I would be stranded. The horizon was unbroken for miles and miles, then finally a dark form developed, breaking the monotony. Slowly it came into focus. Cherryvale.

As John maneuvered the wagon, I received smiles and waves from the townspeople. It was a friendly town. But, while they were friendly to me, they whispered to each other when their eyes fell on John.

Several young men called out my name and waved. Some even walked up to the wagon and talked with me, walking alongside, their stride matching the slow creak of the wheels. John’s hands tightened on the reins, his knuckles a gleaming white. I always tried to keep the conversations short, tense the whole time until I could sense John relaxing as the men walked away.

We reached the General Store, and John raced to help me down. His hands wrapped around my waist, lifting me to the ground. His hands remained for a moment, and he smiled. I smiled back as much as I could manage. Brushing my hair away from my face, he leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I moved past him, and stepped into the store. It was almost empty. A lone customer, a man, was shopping in the back. Sighing gratefully, I walked up to the counter.

“Hello, Mr. Wilson. I need everything on this list.”

Mr. Wilson feigned pleasure to see me, and started gathering my items. We talked over town gossip and news while he worked. Then, piling the merchandise on the counter he announced the price.

My hands were shaking while I reached into my bag. I had barely half of the money. Swallowing my emotions, and with eyes downcast, I cleared my throat.

“I have part of the money . . . can we charge the rest to our account?”

Disapproval emanated from Mr. Wilson. He stood silent for a few moments.

“Your store not doing too well?” he asked, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

“No sir . . . We haven’t had a customer in three weeks, much less a boarder.”

John walked up behind me. He didn’t say anything, but I could hear his breathing becoming heavy with anger and frustration.

“Please Mr. Wilson. Things will get better for us once spring is in full swing. Then we’ll be able to pay off our tab. Please, one more time” I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My cheeks were burning, and my voice kept getting lower and lower.

Even though there was only one other person in the store, I felt as if the whole world was staring at me, mocking me.

“I suppose so, Miss Bender. But it better be the last for a while. I’ve given you much more credit than most families ‘round here. But I like you Kate, you’re a sweet girl. You should be getting married soon. You know, my Philip is a nice boy. He seems to be sweet on you, too.”

I nodded, all the while wanting to scream. Being sacrificed for a credit tab. To think that he could bring up something like that, humiliating me so much. John gripped my arm, I could feel the flesh bruising under his grasp.

“We should be getting home soon, Katie.” He said, his German accent thick.

Mr. Wilson stopped his chatter and wrote up the credit slip. John and I gathered up our goods and started out for the wagon. The minute we were outside, tears started to slip down my cheeks. We loaded the wagon in silence. Once we were ready to go, John patted my hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t trade you off to that idiot Philip Wilson.” He whispered in my ear. When I smiled, he quickly kissed my cheek then sat back up.

“Excuse me, Miss.” A voice said to my left. I looked down, and there was the customer from the store. “I heard you mention boarders, do you have a spare room I could rent?”

My spirits immediately lifted. “Of course we do, sir. And wonderful home cooking, too. Get your things together and follow us.” The young man smiled and nodded. “Thank God.” I whispered.

❖❖❖

That night rejuvenated my family. The young man, Robert, told us stories and had us bellowing with laughter. Father sang some songs from the homeland in his deep bass and for the first time in ages, asked me to join him.

Long into the night we talked and enjoyed Robert’s company. Well, almost all of us. John sulked in a corner for most of the night. When Robert asked me for a dance while Father sang, John stiffened, leaned forward and glared at us. I declined, and I saw Robert’s eyes dart to John. When we were ready to settle down for the night, I pulled the canvas curtain across the large one room that made up our house and store. “Why are you doing that?” Robert asked.

I smiled sweetly and explained that he would have one half and my family would use the other half of the room. It gave everyone a little privacy. He took my explanation with a nod and a smile.

❖❖❖

Even in my sleep I could sense John’s presence near me. Although we were only half brother and sister, we had always had a strangely close connection. He was standing over me, smiling that chilling smile of his, when I opened my eyes.

He leaned over me and kissed me gently on the lips. His hands tangled themselves in my hair as his kiss deepened. I wanted to surrender to this kiss, but I fought it.

Pushing him away, I whispered, “John, we can’t. I told you, it was only that one time. It was a mistake. Please, go back to bed.”

“No. Let me stay with you.” He pleaded, leaning over to kiss me again.

I wanted the kiss. God forgive me, but I did. He had been the first man to ever touch me. It had been a painful, strangely beautiful experience that I had tried to forget. With my blanket wrapped around me, I pushed past him and went out to our barn. He never followed me out here. His dislike for animals kept him at bay.

I curled up in some hay, trying to keep my mind from the memory of his flesh against mine. “God help me.” I whispered.

“I’m not God, but maybe I can help.” Robert’s voice floated in from the door.

Wondering how much he had heard or seen, I pulled my blanket closer to me. “Somehow I doubt it. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going back inside.”

He leaned across the doorframe, blocking my way. “It seemed to me that you wanted to get away from the house.”

Something in the lilt of his voice put me on edge. A few hours ago he had seemed harmless. Now he seemed cunning and deadly like a wolf. I backed up a few steps.

“You must be mistaken.” I said.

In one second he crossed the space I had put between us. “I don’t think I was. Now maybe I can take your mind off whatever it is that’s troubling that pretty little head of yours.”

Suddenly he wrapped his arms around me, kissing me hard. Pushing my lips against my teeth until I could taste blood. His hands tore the blanket away from my arms. While I struggled trying to break his grip on me, panic flooded my mind. God, what could I do? He wrapped his hands in my hair, yanking my head back. Robert forced my lips open, his tongue filling my mouth, making me retch. I bit down on his tongue as hard as I could. Now the taste of his blood was mingled with mine. He reared back, shoving me down.

“Bitch!” He roared. Before I could move, he kicked me in the ribs. Red-hot pain screamed through my body. I gasped for air, trying to get up, but finding all my strength gone. “I’ll teach you!” Robert said, drawing back to kick me again.

I heard something whistle through the air, and apparently Robert did, too. He spun around and was met with a shovel. It hit him in the face, cutting a huge gash. Blood splattered all over me. He fell heavily. There was no question about it, he was dead.

Tears overwhelmed me. In an instant John’s arms were wrapped around me. Cradling me, making me feel safe. His kisses covered my face as he mumbled comforting words.

❖❖❖

“We have to go to the sheriff!” I said, my voice getting high with panic.

I couldn’t believe my ears. My family was planning on burying this man in our orchard. Our orchard! My mind was numb and I paid no attention to their inane rambling. My body was still wooden from the attack, and I couldn’t get my mouth to form the words I wanted to say.

Suddenly, I realized that I was alone in our house. I looked down at my nightgown and retched when I saw the blood covering it. Quickly, without thinking, I changed into another nightshirt and burned the one I had been wearing.

As the flames ate at the evidence of this night, I could hear the shovel striking the ground outside in the orchard. I heard a slap and a horse’s whinny as it ran off into the night. The wind brought sounds of muffled voices and grunts as my family lifted the body. A heavy, dulled thud was the last thing I heard before I closed my eyes and began to weep again.

❖❖❖

Our days and nights were spent in silence. No one made eye contact with each other. It was as if we were strangers sharing a house. Even John’s affections had become remote and scarce. That did not bother me. Without him to remind me of the night we had shared, I was able to keep my mind off those thoughts.

Weeks passed without any boarders or patrons in our store. But our supplies were dwindling. I put off the trip to town as long as I could, but finally I knew I could put it off no longer. So, John and I got the wagon and started for the long trip to town.

Like every other trip, the men in town payed extra attention to me. Today I didn’t feel like seeing any of them and gave them all cold shoulders. I could see the hurt in their eyes, but I didn’t care. My world had changed and their interest didn’t affect me anymore.

John stopped the wagon in front of Mr. Wilson’s store and helped me down. He looked in my eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

I nodded to him, feeling nothing. Mr. Wilson rarely dealt with John, I always had to put in our orders. This humiliation was always piled on me and today I did not feel up to the challenge.

“I can’t do it, John.” I whispered. Grabbing his arm and squeezing it, I said, “No, I can’t.”

He patted my hand, then put his hand to my cheek. “Go in the back and look at the new calico Mr. Wilson has in, I’ll take care of everything.”

Reluctantly, I followed his request. Although I was caught up in wishful thinking when I looked at all the cloth in the back of the store, I still kept my eye on Mr. Wilson and John. They talked cordially, even if the conversation was a little stilted. Mr. Wilson filled our order and turned to John, his face already in a frown of disapproval.

My heart stopped as I saw John take out a handful of money, more than enough to pay our credit tab and pay for our purchases from today. Then I felt sick when I realized where it had come from. There was only one place. The dead man, rotting, feeding our apple trees with his flesh. John had taken it from him. It was blood money.

“Katie, why don’t you bring up that bolt of blue calico. You need a new dress for Sunday’s and you will look beautiful in that color.” John called from the front of the store.

Numbly, without thought, I followed his directions. I watched as Mr. Wilson cut the fabric and wrapped it in brown paper. My voice cracked as I said goodbye to Mr. Wilson. I clung to the package of fabric. It would look pretty on me. But how could I ever wear something payed with the money of the dead?

❖❖❖

By the time we were halfway home, I could think and talk again. I didn’t know how to start this conversation, it was not a situation I had ever had to face before.

“John, you shouldn’t have taken that man’s money.”

He looked at me, puzzled, then laughed. “What good would it have done him?”

“It’s just not something you do. Rob a dead man.”

“He was going to rape you, and probably kill you, too.” John said, taking my hand.

I pulled it away. “If it was so justifiable, why didn’t we take our case to the sheriff?”

He sighed and hunched his shoulders. “We are not well liked here. You are the only one people trust, or can even stand to be around. The rest of us are despised. Do you think justice really would have been done? I would have been hanged, and most likely father, too. Is that what you wanted?”

There was nothing I could say. My family did not believe in the justice system here any more than they had trusted it back in Germany. They were suspicious of any authority. He would not listen to anything I would say.

“Of course I don’t want that.”

He smiled at me and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I knew you didn’t, my sweet Katie.”

❖❖❖

As our house came into sight, my spirits sank. There was a strange horse standing before the building. When he had stopped the wagon, I turned to John.

“Promise me you won’t do anything to whoever it is. No more blood can be shed. No more.”

He laughed and patted my head as if I was a child. Quickly he jumped from the wagon and began unloading our goods. I could feel a dread building in me. Somehow, I knew that the first man would not be the last. The bloodshed had only begun.

❖❖❖

As social as Robert had been, this new boarder was quiet. John kept trying to draw him into conversation. Asking questions about where he was from and if he had any family nearby. The line of questioning made me suspicious and I vowed to myself that this young man would be safe under our roof.

The night went by without incident. I stayed awake and alert for any movement. Finally, I drifted off to sleep.

What seemed like seconds later, a noise awoke me. I could see the dim glow of the moon through the gaps in the walls. Everything was silent and peaceful, and I chided myself for my suspicion.

Then I heard another sound, this one unmistakable. It was the sound of someone walking on the other side of the curtain. As silently as I could, I stood up. John was not in his usual space. I quickly crossed to the other side of the room.

John was standing by the man’s sleeping form. I thanked God that the man was only sleeping. John was rummaging through the man’s saddlebags, looking for the man’s money to buy land in California.

“John!” I hissed.

At the same moment, John spun to look at me and the man jumped up, instantly fully awake.

“What the hell’s going on here!” the man said, pulling out his revolver. He pointed it at me first, then spun to face John. “You plannin’ on robbing me, boy?” He walked toward John, his back turned to me.

I couldn’t breathe as I watched him cock the gun and point it at John’s forehead. Without thinking, I grabbed the first thing my hands could reach and swung at the man. The impact of the blow shook my whole body and a loud crunch filled the air.

I screamed and dropped my weapon and stepped back. Our sledgehammer lay on the ground by the dead body. It was covered in blood and hair. John’s eyes met mine, and a smile played across his lips. I had damned us all.

❖❖❖

Time passed and the shock of what I had done faded. We buried the man in the orchard and tried to hide the grave as much as we could with fallen leaves. I was the one who took the money out of his bag right before we threw it on top of his body.

It felt nice not to have to worry about whether or not we could buy supplies. We no longer had to pray about having the goods to help us make it through the winter. Our new found fortune guaranteed that for us.

At night I dreamed of going back east or maybe north to Chicago. I had always wanted to go there. But I knew it was only a dream, my family didn’t want to go back. They liked the seclusion of the prairie. Running away crossed my mind a few times, but I didn’t know if my family could make it without me. Mother and Father were suspicious, and to put it bluntly, ignorant people. And I knew that John would follow me wherever I went. I wanted to be free of the taint of his love for me. And I couldn’t do that if he followed me.

So I accepted my fate. I was to be with my family until the end.

We had a few boarders, but to my relief there was no bloodshed. I was worried that I had caused a pattern that we weren’t going to deviate from, but many men came and left with only full stomachs and stories from the homeland.

Life slowly went back to normal. However, it didn’t stay that way. There was a storm one day and some helpless man came begging shelter. We gladly took him in and made him feel at home.

He told us of his life back home. Very little family and none of them nearby. We talked into the night and then retired. That night, I squeezed my eyes shut and sang a song from my childhood when I saw John get up and sneak to the other side of the curtain.

I tried not to listen to the death blow. Tried not to listen to my parents helping him drag the body outside. Tried not to listen to the shovel and the thud of the body.

I just sang louder and louder until I was near hysteria. Numb and shaking all over. When John came in, dirty and covered in stains that I chose not to look at too closely, he laid down beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and sang the song with me.

The next death was more gruesome. It caught all of us off-guard except for John. The man was sitting at the table with his back to the curtain. John came up behind him and hit him with the sledgehammer, through the curtain. There was no blood splattering this time. But there was the awful crunch to hear, and the even more horrible wound to see as the man fell forward into his plate of food. Mother screamed with me this time.

Father yelled at John saying, “Let us know next time! Warn us!”

I felt like screaming forever. But, instead I buried it inside me and helped my family rob and bury the body. I said a silent prayer for the man and for us.

The fourth death was almost the end of us. Moments after John had slaughtered the man, we heard a wagon nearing. Working on instinct, I ordered them to throw the body in the root cellar, which was little more than a pit below the house.

A neighbor came by to buy some tobacco. He chatted with us for a while then left. I ran outside, gulping down air, afraid I was going to faint. Sickness welled up inside me. What were we doing? What had we become?

We waited until nightfall to bury the body. As I helped shovel dirt on top of the body, I watched John count the money he had stolen from the man’s lifeless body. I said no prayer for us this time. No prayer to any god could help us now.

Time passed and the body count grew. With each death I grew less squeamish. It was a strange condition. Less often did I jump in surprise when John or Father hit the man from behind the curtain. We had decided that was the best method. And now, we always dumped the body in the cellar and waited until nightfall for burial.

I almost never got sick at the sight of the bodies. Much less often than I had at the first. But I was having strange dreams. The murders and the night spent as John’s lover were always jumbled together in these dreams. It was hard to tell where one stopped and another began. There were times when I woke up wheezing for air. John always came and laid down beside me, holding me until I slipped off to sleep again. But the dreams always came back.

One night I had an especially vivid dream. I was reliving the night with John with all of the wonderful, horrible sensations intact. But halfway through, John’s face changed to another man’s. It was a handsome face, a stranger’s face. The passion between us was unbelievable. It was as if my whole body was being consumed by fire. Then in an instant, I saw the man lying down, dressed in a bright red shirt. His hands were outstretched to me, as if beckoning me to follow him somewhere. I tried, but John stepped in my way and held me back. I screamed and fought him with all my might, but it was of no use. When I awoke, I was weeping more harshly than I ever had before.

With each death, the dreams got worse. But as much as I tried to speak up to my family, as much as I wanted to, I never did. Our pattern kept going. Fate had determined our course for us. As awful as a fate as it was, none of us fought it.

❖❖❖

A few days later, we had another visitor. It came completely unexpected, while we were all doing chores and Father was off in town running errands. I heard the wagon pull up and ran inside, my hands full of laundry.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty little girl!” I cooed at the child who walked through the door.

Barely old enough to walk, she was fiercely holding her father’s hand. Nervous and anxious, she clung to him. At my voice, she jumped and hid behind his leg. The man chuckled and walked toward me.

“Loncor’s the name. I saw that you sell supplies here. Is there any chance you also provide room and board?”

“Of course we do.” John’s voice said from the doorway.

Loncor turned around and smiled broadly. The little girl just clung to him even more frantically.

❖❖❖

A few hours later, as I tried to bring the girl out of her shell, I could hear my mother and brother arguing in German. I could hear enough of the words to be certain of what they were planning. They had decided to let the man and his daughter go unharmed. I sighed gratefully when I heard that decision. We were not completely monsters yet it seemed.

Time went by slowly, we all tried to gain the attention and affection of the little girl, Ann. However, none of our ploys worked. She stayed glued to her father the whole time, never letting him out of her sight. When we least expected it, we heard our father rattle up to the house in our old wagon. He came in singing softly, smelling of gin. I grimaced, hoping he would behave. Father rarely got drunk but when he did—

My thoughts were interrupted by the whistling of air and the sound of bone being shattered. Loncor fell forward with a blank look of anticipation on his face. Ann, at once, began screaming at the top of her lungs. Our home turned into a madhouse. Everyone was yelling at one another. My father was yelling for someone to shut the girl up. My brother was yelling that we hadn’t planned on killing him. And my mother was yelling for me to help her get the body in the pit.

I helped her, all the while, wincing at each ear-piercing screech coming from the girl. Father sometimes got violent when he was drunk and I feared for her. With the body safely in the cellar, everyone relaxed a little, except for Father. He kept yelling for someone to silence the girl.

His long legs quickly spanned the room and he was standing in front of the girl. He started shaking her. Shaking her so hard that her head snapped back and forth in a painful, dangerous way. It did nothing for her screams, either.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she began repeating, screaming, wailing at the top of her lungs.

I put my hands to my ears, trying to block out everything. I wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere safe and calm, with anyone but my family. With nausea rising in my throat, I watched as father pulled his arm back. It seemed as if time slowed as I watched him deliver the blow to the girl’s head. My father was a strong man who could fell an adult man with a blow like that. We all heard a loud crackle as the girls head snapped to the left. Her screams were silenced. I ran outside and fell to my knees. The nausea that had risen came fully upon me and I heaved, coughing and sputtering.

❖❖❖

Standing at the foot of Loncor’s grave, I cradled his child in my arms. She was so light, so pretty, so young. God, what all had we kept her from? Her first puppy, writing her name for the first time, her first love, her first kiss, marriage, family, children . . . the list went on and on in my head. It was endless. This was the most insidious, sinister act we had committed. We had killed a child just beginning life.

But life was not all happiness, I tried to remind myself. We had also saved her from all of life’s heartache. And heartache there is in life. I began to cry, and held her body closer to me.

My brother reached up from the grave, and I handed him the corpse. He placed her on top of her father and climbed out. I couldn’t bring myself to say a prayer this time, no matter how fitting or needed. I felt as if there was nothing left for me anymore and I could claim nothing as mine anymore. It had all been taken from me. Even God.

That night, John curled up next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and began to kiss my neck. I did nothing. I didn’t fight him off; I didn’t encourage him. There was no feeling left in me. I let him do what he wanted, then turned my face to the wall and began to cry as silently as I could.

The numbness stayed with me. Time passed, but I didn’t notice. More murders were committed, but I didn’t concern myself with it. I was no longer living, I was surviving, existing.

It’s amazing how one day can change your life forever. Moments that pass too quickly can alter your path, alter your thoughts and beliefs, alter yourself. And it always comes when you least expect it. That day came to me on a beautiful spring day. It was my crossroads.

❖❖❖

It was on another trip to town with John that I noticed him. He was a tall, handsome man talking with Mr. Wilson. I couldn’t help but stare. He looked so familiar and it intrigued me. I watched as he smiled and laughed, throwing his head back. His laugh was beautiful to me, he was beautiful. I wanted him completely.

All I could do was stare in silence as he walked out the door and climbed onto his horse. Both John and Mr. Wilson noticed my interest in the stranger.

“That’s Senator York’s younger brother, William. He seems to be quite a gentleman.” Mr. Wilson said as he took our supply list from my hand.

John was mute the whole ride home. However, his mood didn’t affect me. It was as if I could feel something in the air. By instinct, I knew that something was going to happen.

When the house came into view, we saw a beautiful horse tied in front. By the way John bristled, I knew he recognized the horse, too. It was William York’s horse. I tried to hide my smile, but I’m not sure how well I succeeded. This man sparked interest in me. God knows it was the first time I felt anything in ages. I quickly walked into our house, ready to start this new adventure.

❖❖❖

Except for William and me, dinner was somber. Everyone else was quiet. Mother looked at William with suspicion. Father shoveled his food down, as if there was not palpable electricity in the air. John glared at William, never touching a thing on his plate.

But William and me, we talked. We talked about anything and everything. He told me his life story, how it was to live in his brother’s shadow, growing up back east then moving to a town a few miles from Cherryvale; he told me every detail. And I told him my story, well as much of it as I could. Art, literature, horses, music, everything was free game.

I had never had so much fun talking to anyone in my whole life. Although we had known each other for less than a day, I felt I had been by his side for my whole life. I was, and am, a cynical person. Never before had I believed in love at first sight. But that day I was sure of its existence.

Time passed slowly and quickly all at the same time. Time meant nothing, the company of my family meant nothing. The world was a void. The only thing that existed was William and I. Much too swiftly, it came time to go to bed. I didn’t want to leave William’s side, and as much as I wanted to lie beside him as he slept, I knew that I couldn’t.

So instead, I stared at the ceiling, a secret smile on my face. I knew, I knew that William was meant for me, and that this might be my only chance. After I knew that my family was in deep sleep, I sneaked to the other room. I gently shook him awake.

He was startled to see me there, but instantly smiled. I motioned for him to follow me. As silently as we could, we made our way to the barn. Once inside, we stood in silence staring at each other. He looked at me in the most amazing way, a way I had never been looked at before. It was different from the leers and stares I got at town, different from the wanton glances I got from John. Different from anything I had experienced.

He walked over to me and took my hands, “Anything you want from me, just ask and it’s yours. Anything.”

I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. I knew what I wanted from him, but I had to work up the nerve to ask.

“I want you.” I whispered, pressing myself against him, and kissed his lips.

His arms wrapped around me, warming me to my very core. He pulled away from our kiss and looked at me again, in complete silence, but his eyes spoke enough for both of us.

❖❖❖

We lay next to each other, arms and legs tangled, flesh against flesh. I sighed happily and buried my face in his chest. This was true bliss. William pulled me even closer to him. He pervaded all of my senses. I could hear his heart beating loudly and steadily in his chest. The smell of his skin was more delicious than anything else I had ever smelled. The taste of his kiss lingered with me. And the feel of him next to me was the best of all. I never wanted to leave his side, I wanted to stay like this forever.

“I love you, Katie. It’s amazing and terrifying, but I love you. Marry me.” He whispered, kissing my forehead.

I looked at him intently. This couldn’t be a joke, it was too cruel to be a joke. The minute his eyes looked into mine, I knew he meant it. I answered him with a kiss. When we pulled away, we were both smiling.

But suddenly, I was uneasy. I could feel an alien presence poisoning this moment. Looking around, I saw a shadow dash past the doorway.

“Oh God, please no.” I whispered.

“What is it?” William said sitting up.

“Get dressed. We have to leave now.”

He looked at me in surprise, but began to get dressed. I pulled on my new blue calico dress as quickly as I could. Steely coldness had overcome me. The warmth that William had filled me with was gone now. I knew what had happened, but I didn’t want to believe it.

“Do we really have to leave now? What’s the matter?”

I felt William’s arms around me, and for a moment I felt a bit of that blissful peace that had consumed me just moments ago. I squeezed his hand, then told him to wait here.

The night was surprisingly cool and the wind bit through the thin material of my dress. I hadn’t even gone twenty steps when John grabbed me from behind.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed at me.

Pushing him away, I continued walking to the house. He chased after me and grabbed me again, his fingers digging into my arms. It hurt, but I wasn’t going to let him see that.

“I am going to leave with William, right now.”

“The hell you are!” His grip on me tightened with each word. All that was left of his eyes were thin slits. “You can’t leave us. And I’ll be damned if I let you.”

“John, don’t you dare do anything. I swear to God I will kill you. I am leaving and that’s it.”

I pushed past him again, and stormed into the house, quickly grabbing as much of my things as I could. John just stood in the doorway staring at me. When I had all I could carry, I forced past him again and started out for the barn.

“What makes you think he’ll make it through the night?” He whispered, just barely loud enough for me to hear him.

I spun around and glared at him. “Harm one hair on his head, and that will be the end of you.”

“What makes you think he’ll take you once he knows the truth about us?”

“I already know.” William’s voice said from behind me. He put his arm around me. “I know a jealous lover’s look when I see it. It doesn’t matter to me. That’s a matter in the past. We’re leaving tonight, so please don’t hold us up.”

William lead me to the barn, where he had made room for my things among his saddlebags. I could feel John’s presence in the doorway. Panic was beginning to overcome me. What was I going to do?

“Don’t worry, everything will be alright. There’s nothing to worry about.” William said to me, covering my hand with his. I stopped packing my things. How could I tell him how much danger he was in?

“We need to leave as soon as possible. We can’t wait until morning, we need to leave now.”

At first he looked as if he was going to laugh at me, but then he saw how insistent I was. John was now pacing behind us, like a wild animal in a cage. I could hear him breathing, I knew what he was thinking, planning.

“You don’t have to rush off. There’s no need for it. I’ve decided to let you go. If you want to go there’s nothing I can do about it.” John said, walking up to us.

William seemed to relax, but I just became more tense. John would never give up this easily. His eyes were no longer slits, but they were filled with danger. They almost seemed to glow with the hatred he was radiating. William helped me up onto his horse, then walked toward John.

“Thank you for understanding. Don’t worry, I live just a few towns over, you can come visit her whenever you feel like it.” He said, shaking John’s hand.

John stood silently watching with deadly silence. William turned and began to walk over to me. I could glimpse my freedom. It didn’t seem possible that we might be able to escape. I would be free of my family, the anchor around my neck. William was standing in front of me, smiling.

Then I felt a breeze blow my hair off my face. William’s smile fell, his eyes rolled up, showing just the whites. I watched without comprehension as his white shirt slowly turned to red. He dropped to his knees and lifted his hands to me. Quickly I dismounted and kneeled in front of him. I took his head in my hands.

His hair was wet, and suddenly I realized what had happened. I looked up and saw John standing with a blood covered shovel in his hands. I pulled my hands from William and looked at them. They were red, covered in my love’s blood. A silent scream welled in my throat.

The scream was replaced with rage, and I lunged at John. I scratched at his face and beat on his chest. Rage dictated my actions, I couldn’t control myself. I wanted to kill John, make him suffer the way John had made me suffer. I wanted to rip his head off, I wanted to torture him. After what seemed like hours, I fell to my knees, exhausted. John walked away, I had barely scratched him.

I crawled over to William’s body. Wrapping my arms around him, feeling the weight of his dead body, I knew that I would get revenge. I didn’t know how, but I would. Kissing his lips one last time, I stood up and walked in the house.

❖❖❖

News of William’s disappearance spread quickly. His brother, the Senator, offered rewards and took up the search himself. It didn’t take long for him to realize that William had been here. The Senator stopped by the house two times trying to pick up the trail. Apparently I am a good actress, because even though he seemed a little suspicious he didn’t accuse us.

Even though he didn’t, it became clear that we needed to abandon our lives here and move on. One night, we packed up as much as we could into our wagon and began to travel west, toward California. We traveled for days, with no one following us. Hanging was the fate that awaited us if we were caught.

❖❖❖

One day we had made camp by a creek. We were all relaxing, we just knew that we had made it. Then, the thunderous sound of horse hooves broke the silence of the afternoon. Suddenly, we were surrounded by men from Cherryvale.

“So we found you. Did you really think you could get away with it?” A familiar voice said. I looked up and saw the face of Mr. Wilson. Beside him was his son Philip.

I stepped forward and met their eyes. This was my chance, and I only had one try. My family was huddled behind me as if for protection. I thought of William’s body buried under the apple trees that would be blooming soon. I tried to imagine him at peace in Heaven. It didn’t work. I no longer believed in God or Heaven. I was more well acquainted with Lucifer and Hell.

“I have something to say,” I began. The men stared at me curiosity mingled with merciless mob mentality. “I know who killed those men, all of them. I’ll help you get them, but you have to promise my safety.” John sighed, relieved. I glanced over my shoulder and saw my mother and father smiling at me. They were proud of me, once again I was their savior. “They killed them.” I said pointing my finger at my family. “They killed all of them. The girl, William York, George Loncor, all of them. They said they would kill me if I told anyone.”

I broke down in tears, collapsing on the ground. As hysterical as I seemed, it was all cool calculation. This had to be the most believable scene any one had ever performed. Philip got off of his horse and helped me to my feet. Some of the men came down and talked to me, ironing out the details of what had happened.

Then they lead me to the side of the creek and had me sit in the shade. Before my eyes a crude court formed. The men questioned my family, mostly John, and then all turned to Mr. Wilson for a verdict. He nodded his head, and the men fell upon my family.

❖❖❖

I stood at the foot of the tree. Philip tried to get me to turn away, but I wanted to see what I had done. Three bodies spun slowly in the wind. The ropes around their necks creaked under their weight. John’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth, it had turned a sick blue color. Mother and Father looked no better.

I had tried not to smile when the townsmen prepared them for hanging. I tried, but John saw my face once.

“For William.” I mouthed. His eyes grew wide, then turned to slits.

“She did it! She’s a witch! Don’t listen to her! She’s a monster. She told us to do it all!” He started screaming, his voice cracking with frenzy. The men just stared at him and continued their work.

Mother and Father’s necks had broken with loud snaps as the horses ran from under them. But John, he didn’t receive such a blessing. His neck did not break. Instead we got to listen to the wheezing of his breath as he suffocated. Drool hung from his lips as he tried to talk.

Only I heard knew what he was whispering.

“I love you, my Katie.”

I couldn’t hide my smile when he finally stopped struggling for breath. He had suffered, not enough, but he had suffered.

❖❖❖

Now I live in Chicago, away from the scandal of the murders. The posse let me go and swore to me they wouldn’t tell of what had happened. I left them as they were burying the bodies.

But I didn’t leave Cherryvale alone, even though I didn’t know it then. I now have a son, his name is John William. He is my life and world, he is all I have left. We go to church everyday, and are well respected in our community, in spite of my mysterious origins.

Sometimes my son asks questions about his father, and I don’t know how to answer him. Both possibilities are horrible. True love killed after just being born, or a monstrous union of brother and sister. I can’t bring myself to guess which of my lovers he sprung from. I can see John in him, but I can also see William. Heaven and Hell all wrapped up in his tiny frame. I tell myself it’s better for me not to know. I tell myself it’s better for him not to know.

I just hug him and tell him he’ll learn the story when he is older. It pacifies him for a while, but never long enough.

One day I’ll have to tell him something.