sleep; Ben covered her and dressed. He slipped the
handgun into his trousers and ventured out into the night.
The fire was low, and he added a piece
of wood. He collected their packs and placed them near the tent, suddenly anxious
that they might have to flee their temporary Eden.
Something was off.
He sat at the edge of the fire and studied
the darkness, listening. He heard movement in the brush and he rested the
pistol on his knee, knowing that it was probably just a squirrel. Still, he
couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on their campsite.
He stood watch as long as he could, but
he was tired. After nodding off for an instant, he retreated to the tent and Alice’s
warmth. He pulled her to his chest, marveling at the sensation of her warm
breath on his neck.
The shotgun was close, and that was a
comfort. He said a quick prayer and fell into his dreams, expecting Alice to
meet him there.
Instead, it was Coraline that waited for
him when he finally slipped away.
~
They
rose before dawn. Alice had covered him with a blanket in the night. She knelt
and kissed his forehead before dressing. Ben watched her. It was really
something, watching a woman dress. Things had certainly changed between them, and
that hurdle of intimacy and the revelation of his secret were burdens that had vanished
in the night.
It was invigorating.
“If we make good time to Bickley, maybe
we can just push for home tonight,” Alice said. “It would be nice to sleep in
our own bed.”
Ben smiled at the plural pronoun. “That’d
be nice.” He wanted to say more—he had so much to say, really, but words
escaped him. He finally decided just to come out with it. “Do you want to talk
about what happened last night, Alice? I mean—the scars?”
Alice shrugged, a little smile on her face.
“We have plenty of time, Ben. For now…let’s just do what we need to do to get
home. I say we scarf down a quick breakfast and get the hell out of here. Sooner
begun, sooner done.”
Her ambivalence didn’t surprise him. It
was the Alice he had come to know. “Fair enough then” he said, scrambling to dress.
The fire had died in the night, and they didn’t bother with tea. They ate
quickly and broke camp and soon they were once again picking their way through
the woods. After an hour they located the train tracks.
Day broke and they pushed forward.
At midmorning, they happened upon an
orderly little clearing in the forest. There was a small shack in the center. Smoke
leaked from a crooked chimney pipe in the tin roof. A sad excuse for a goat stood
tied to a metal post, picking at a patch of ash-covered grass near the front
porch.
Ben looked at Alice and nodded toward
the woods. They would go around it.
“You folks are not as clever as
you think you are,” a sonorous baritone called from behind them. They wheeled
to discover an enormous man, clad head to foot in deer hide, standing behind
them. His arms were crossed over a barrel chest, his wrists the size of healthy
pine boughs. He had a shaggy beard and square white teeth, neat and straight
like dominoes, in his wide, smiling mouth. “Although you did survive a
night at Parish Creek. That’s no small feat with Talmidge’s goons sniffing
around your back trail.”
“We don’t mean any harm,” Ben said. He
had stepped in front of Alice, the act as natural as breathing.
“Oh, I know it,” the man said. “If I
thought you were a threat, you’d already be dead.”
“Then thank you,” Alice said quickly.
She took Ben’s hand. “We were trying to be careful. I guess we have some work
to do on that front. What’s your name?”
“Buck,” the man replied. He unfolded his
arms and pointed at the shack. “You folks join me for coffee?”
Alice flashed a stunned grin. “Coffee?
Are you serious ?”
“I am,” he replied. His voice was deep
and rich, melodious, and she felt strangely at ease in his presence. Buck
brushed past them into the clearing, and they watched him stride for
handgun into his trousers and ventured out into the night.
The fire was low, and he added a piece
of wood. He collected their packs and placed them near the tent, suddenly anxious
that they might have to flee their temporary Eden.
Something was off.
He sat at the edge of the fire and studied
the darkness, listening. He heard movement in the brush and he rested the
pistol on his knee, knowing that it was probably just a squirrel. Still, he
couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on their campsite.
He stood watch as long as he could, but
he was tired. After nodding off for an instant, he retreated to the tent and Alice’s
warmth. He pulled her to his chest, marveling at the sensation of her warm
breath on his neck.
The shotgun was close, and that was a
comfort. He said a quick prayer and fell into his dreams, expecting Alice to
meet him there.
Instead, it was Coraline that waited for
him when he finally slipped away.
~
They
rose before dawn. Alice had covered him with a blanket in the night. She knelt
and kissed his forehead before dressing. Ben watched her. It was really
something, watching a woman dress. Things had certainly changed between them, and
that hurdle of intimacy and the revelation of his secret were burdens that had vanished
in the night.
It was invigorating.
“If we make good time to Bickley, maybe
we can just push for home tonight,” Alice said. “It would be nice to sleep in
our own bed.”
Ben smiled at the plural pronoun. “That’d
be nice.” He wanted to say more—he had so much to say, really, but words
escaped him. He finally decided just to come out with it. “Do you want to talk
about what happened last night, Alice? I mean—the scars?”
Alice shrugged, a little smile on her face.
“We have plenty of time, Ben. For now…let’s just do what we need to do to get
home. I say we scarf down a quick breakfast and get the hell out of here. Sooner
begun, sooner done.”
Her ambivalence didn’t surprise him. It
was the Alice he had come to know. “Fair enough then” he said, scrambling to dress.
The fire had died in the night, and they didn’t bother with tea. They ate
quickly and broke camp and soon they were once again picking their way through
the woods. After an hour they located the train tracks.
Day broke and they pushed forward.
At midmorning, they happened upon an
orderly little clearing in the forest. There was a small shack in the center. Smoke
leaked from a crooked chimney pipe in the tin roof. A sad excuse for a goat stood
tied to a metal post, picking at a patch of ash-covered grass near the front
porch.
Ben looked at Alice and nodded toward
the woods. They would go around it.
“You folks are not as clever as
you think you are,” a sonorous baritone called from behind them. They wheeled
to discover an enormous man, clad head to foot in deer hide, standing behind
them. His arms were crossed over a barrel chest, his wrists the size of healthy
pine boughs. He had a shaggy beard and square white teeth, neat and straight
like dominoes, in his wide, smiling mouth. “Although you did survive a
night at Parish Creek. That’s no small feat with Talmidge’s goons sniffing
around your back trail.”
“We don’t mean any harm,” Ben said. He
had stepped in front of Alice, the act as natural as breathing.
“Oh, I know it,” the man said. “If I
thought you were a threat, you’d already be dead.”
“Then thank you,” Alice said quickly.
She took Ben’s hand. “We were trying to be careful. I guess we have some work
to do on that front. What’s your name?”
“Buck,” the man replied. He unfolded his
arms and pointed at the shack. “You folks join me for coffee?”
Alice flashed a stunned grin. “Coffee?
Are you serious ?”
“I am,” he replied. His voice was deep
and rich, melodious, and she felt strangely at ease in his presence. Buck
brushed past them into the clearing, and they watched him stride for
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