Out West Ch. 03: Martha Anderson

And that we did. With three days ahead of us, there was a lot of time on our hands.

The redhead, Kate, either did not notice that her boobs were bouncing about dangerously, or did not mind me looking, as she made no attempt to hide them. The little one seemed oblivious. Well, bless her, one day she'd have the joy of backache!

Kate told me about her and Pixie. Turned out, to my surprise, that Pixie was actually twenty. I sure doubted that, but the girl had papers. That was wise. Made me wonder why she liked lying with her head on Kate's lap, but given me and Emma, I could hazard a guess. Wasn't like there was a whole lot of eligible young men; war had taken care of that. We women had to find comfort where we could, and if these two were like me and Emma, good on them.

Pixie, once she had gotten over her shyness, chattered nicely, and they turned out to be good company. Over the next day we got to know each other, and they were generous with their supplies, so I was able to eke out my own meagre pickings. Pixie insisted on paying for any drinks and food, which suited me, and she seemed pleased that I was pleased. I warmed to the little thing. And Kate, well she had a bit of Emma about her, and she and I got on just fine and dandy.

And so the train went on through the changing landscape of later summer America. You could see here, there, and every damn where the scars of the war. And as they dozed, I thought back, my mind coming, as so often, to dwell on my own scars.

Sometimes I saw him in my nightmares - that first boy. I recalled those frightened eyes, haunted by what he'd been through. I'd seen that same look in the eyes of men wearing badges on occasion, but usually those passing through our town, or near our farm. Jacob and our men had sent them on, sometimes with a look of surprise that Jacob let colored men carry arms. We did because they were free, but also regardless of free or slave, they were still men and had a right to defend themselves.

I remember the day after we buried the boy, waking in the cooling air of a Missouri fall, as the leaves started to change on the oak he would lay under for eternity. I greeted Emma in the morning, I saw in her face at first fear, then sadness, she kissed me gently, a tear from her cheek wetting mine.

"I'll see to breakfast my love, you... you wash up." She got out of bed put on that lovely French cover I bought her in Saint Louis on my last Begging Trip, then slipped downstairs without a second glance.

I did as she said, I peed, wiped my pits then my crotch, especially after our love making it needed it. I washed with the wash water she had brought up the night before, finally I used it to wash my face. My bandaged hands reached for the towel to dry and when I came clean and dry I glanced into the mirror and there it was, the quiet joyfulness that Jacob had once loved was gone now, replaced by the look, the inward knowledge that I had killed a man, which was one thing, but the knowledge I had killed a boy, an innocent, a child. There had been others who had died at my hand since, but the look was always there, set deeper and harder by time and more blood.

And so, with such cheerful thoughts, the night passed into another day, and we freshed up as best we could. Pixie listened while Kate and I talked about things, men, life, men, the good things in life, and men. She was a pretty little thing when you got used to her. She was good company.

I was glad to have met them. They refreshed me. Kate was fun. She was, she told me, one of thirteen kids, her Momma was permanently pregnant. She'd been lucky enough to find a place in a hotel "for ladies only". I grinned and winked at her. The little one seemed oblivious, but Kate and I knew what that meant - she'd been a whore for other women with tastes like mine. She sure was attractive, and I'd not have minded a tumble with her. She and I got on famously, and if we flirted a little, what of it? Emma was not there, and the little one, though twenty, seemed not to see.

The time passed well enough, and it was not till we were almost in St Louis that we had problems.