Tethered Pt. 02

13

A village with no name.

Most villages had signs posted outside the gate with a name and a few important rules written on them. Check all weapons at the gate. One night stay only. No alcohol. No Christians. No groups of more than three. Thieves and rapists will be hung. This one did not.

Why did that always trouble her so? It expressed a feeling of detachment, of indifference, even contempt. As if this place had been deemed deficient, even by those who'd settled it.

Three men met them at the gate.

"What do you want?" a burly man with a scraggly blonde beard asked. The late afternoon sun glinted off his prominent bald spot.

All three men held rifles at their sides. They were pointed at the ground, but she doubted it would take much provocation for them to raise the muzzles.

Her master's rifle was slung over his shoulder, resting on his back.

"We only want shelter for the night," her master said, "if it's available."

"Town's closed," the burly man said. Behind him, a heavy set man with a scar on his chin smirked.

"Fair enough," her master said. "We'll move on."

She knew it was coming before they'd taken five steps away from the greeting committee.

"Of course," Burly said, scratching his beard, "exceptions can always be made."

Her master kept walking.

"Hear me, friend?" the man asked.

"Not interested," her master said.

"You haven't even heard what we have to say."

"Good evening, gentlemen."

"Fella's downright rude, Hank," the third man said. He slapped at a pebble with the nose of his rifle. It plunked against the shoddy wooden wall surrounding the village.

"He is," Hank said. "I don't much care for him. Seems dangerous."

A hammer clicked down.

Her master stopped. He turned back to the men. "Speak your peace."

"That's more like it," Hank said. "I knew he wasn't a bad sort, Jeff. Why you always jumping the gun? He just don't know us. That's fair. Tough world we live in. Man's got to be cautious. Especially when he's carrying such valuable cargo."

"Speak your peace," her master repeated.

"Right down to business," Hank said. "See what I mean, Jeff? You shouldn't jump to conclusions about people. I like this fella." The man scratched at his beard again. She couldn't tell if it was a tick or his obvious lack of hygiene. "I might've spoken too soon. Seems a comfy space just come available."

"For the right price," Jeff said with a sneer.

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"We have little of value to trade," her master said.

He knew, of course. These men weren't masters in the art of subtlety. She stood behind him, stiff and observant. Gnawing at his bottom lip, the third man scrutinized every inch of her, at least every inch below her neck. The heavy man, Jeff, fidgeted with his rifle. She couldn't miss the bulge sprouting in Hank's stained pants.

For a brief horrible moment, she wondered if her master would acquiesce to the inevitable demand. Of course he wouldn't. Right? He never had before. But then, until recently, he'd never shared her at all. And, try as she might, she hadn't been very good at hiding her pleasure in being passed around to whomever he chose. He'd know though. He'd know she wouldn't want this. This was different. Wasn't it?

Hank adjusted his belt, gave a wink that shot right past her master and slapped onto her face. "Well, I wouldn't say that exactly."

"She is not for trade," her master said slowly.

"Who said anything about that?"

"She is not for trade."

The third man stepped up, opened his mouth for the first time. "We could just take her."

Her master locked eyes with the man. The man's fingers twitched at the trigger of his weapon. Her master's didn't move. "You could try. You'd find it more difficult than you think."

A suffocating hush fell. Why the fuck didn't she have a gun? She should have a weapon. The men had lost eyes for her. All three focused firmly on her protector. Already the cold confidence seemed to have drained from them as they calculated their odds. Could this traveler unsling his rifle, aim it, and fire before they raised their own? Decent odds for them, but maybe not worth a piece of tail.

Her master turned his back on them, and she felt as if she'd swallowed a stone. It's weight rested heavy in the pit of her stomach. She followed, knowing the next sound she heard would be the bullet entering the back of the man she loved. When they rounded the corner of the wall unharmed, she almost collapsed with relief.

"Don't stop," her master said.

A hundred yards away, no footsteps followed.

"You could have," she said. Speaking out of turn was a risk, but at the moment it paled in comparison to others.

"Yes," he said, not slowing his pace.

"It would've been easier."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

No. No, she didn't.

They shook the dust of the village with no name from their feet.