Soul Catcher (40 page)

^{"I shoulda knowed he was just a charlatan," Strofe complained as he held his guts and canted to one side to issue a loud fart. "Aaaah! God-dang it all!"}

^{"Oughta send the bottle back to that lil sawed-off feller," Preacher offered. "Git your money back."}

^{"You really think somebody's gone be waitin' on the other end?"}

^{"Maybe you ain't took enough of it yet," said Preacher, who sat there rubbing the blade of his knife over a whetstone.}

^{"Looky," he said, holding up the empty bottle. "I plumb drank the whole thing." He heaved the empty bottle out into the rain, where it hit a rock and shattered. "My guts is on fire."}

^{"Could be you got yourself worms," Preacher offered.}

^{"How the hell would you know? You ain't no doctor."}

^{"My brother had worms real bad. Liked to died from it."}

^{"Just shut up."}

^{"Ever' time he shat you could see them wiggling around in his dung."}

^{With that, Strofe got up and hurried out into the rain, making for the outhouse.}

^{Preacher stayed away from Rosetta, avoided her completely, which was easy to do, as he wasn't responsible for her in any way. He treated her as if nothing had happened between them. But even though he didn't speak a word to Cain, now and again he'd shoot him that malevolent, gat-toothed grin of his. Those deep-set, black eyes would narrow and just a hint of that snakelike smile would harden his mouth, as if to tell Cain he hadn't forgotten his threat.}

^{Cain's leg ached with the dampness. He'd run out of laudanum and there was nothing to do but wait until they got to a town where he could buy more. He felt, as he always did when he ran out, irritable and out of sorts, his skin itching, his hands seeming to jump around of their own accord. He tried to occupy himself with Milton, reading by lantern light. He was to the part where Satan took the form of the serpent to trick man into betraying God. While he preferred the earlier sections better, where Satan appeared noble and majestic in his rebellion, he nonetheless appreciated Milton's insight into the twisted mind of the fallen angel. It was a far shrewder understanding of psychology than that offered by any alienist or phrenologist.}

^.

^{foul distrust, and breach}

^{Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt}

^{And disobedience: On the part of Heav'n}

^{Now alienated, distance and distaste,}

^{Anger and just rebuke, and judgement giv'n,}

^{That brought into this World a world of woe.}

^.

^{As he chanced to look over at Preacher so intent on sharpening his knife, for a moment he was struck by the possibility that
he
was the serpent in their midst, the one waiting to lead them to ruin. But then he told himself that was just a fanciful notion of a soul with too much time on his hands. They were all fallen creatures already, himself no less than the others, and they hardly needed someone like Preacher to lead them astray.}

^{Now and then he'd glance over at Rosetta, who sat on a pile of hay, sewing. At night the two Negroes were chained to the cattle stanchions, but during the day they were allowed to move freely about the barn. The past two days he noticed how she'd been sick, vomiting when she woke up. When he inquired about it, she told him it was just morning sickness. She had asked him for a needle and thread, and she occupied herself with mending her clothes, which were now dirty and threadbare. She was a skilled seamstress, her fingers moving quickly and assuredly as they worked the needle through the thick homespun material. He found himself staring at her belly, thinking of Eberly's child growing there. Would he sell this one off as well, to punish her for running away again? What sort of man did that? Got a woman pregnant, then sold off his own child, his own flesh and blood. But perhaps this time he wouldn't. Perhaps the child was the valuable thing he wanted back, more so even than his concubine. Occasionally she'd look up and their eyes would meet for an awkward moment. There was no longer in her gaze that sharp, accusatory look with which she used to view him before. Now he considered it simply a look of wistful longing. He thought, too, about what she'd said to him a few days before. How he wasn't like the others, how she'd been wrong about him. He wondered if that was true.}

^{The inn owned several Holsteins that stood dumbly eating silage from the feed trough, their enormous heads locked in stanchions. A young German milkmaid who worked at the inn would come out morning and evening to feed and milk the cows and to muck out the barn. She also carried out heaping platters of eggs and grits, sausage and fried bread for them to eat, as well as pitchers of fresh buttermilk to drink. It was a welcome change from the cornmeal and dried fish and salt pork they'd been used to for the past several weeks. The German girl wore a white bonnet tied primly under her plump chin and a long filthy apron that came well down below her sturdy knees. She was a solid thing, with fleshy arms that could easily carry two full buckets of milk balanced on a yoke over her broad shoulders. Her wide face was as rosy pink as the cow's teats she pulled on. She would smile modestly at the men but would speak only a few words of broken English when she came into the barn.}

^{"What's your name, darlin'?" Preacher asked her.}

^{"Katarina," she replied shyly, with a heavy accent.}

^{"Whyn't you come over here and set a spell on my lap."}

^{"Ich muss arbeiten.
Vork," she said, and went about milking the cows.}

^{"I got me something you could work on," Preacher joked.}

^{She came in from the rain once with two heavy platters of food that were almost slipping out of her hands.}

^{"Let me help you with that," Little Strofe said, grabbing one of the platters from her and bringing it over to a workbench near the tack room.}

^{"
Danke
," she said.}

^{"You're all wet."}

^{Her shawl and bonnet were soaked from the rain. When she took off her cap her long blond hair unraveled and fell to her shoulders. She looked pretty and younger even with her head uncovered. Sixteen, seventeen. Little Strofe hurried off to get a rag from his saddlebags and gave it to her so she could dry off.}

^{"Where y'all from?"}

^{"Deutschland
," she replied, dabbing her face and head with the rag.}

^{"Where in tarnation is that?"}

^{She tried to explain with hand gestures where she'd come from. As best they could, Little Strofe and she talked as she milked the cows. Later he helped her bring the full buckets into the inn. After that, every time she came out, he would go over and sit by her and keep her company as she did her work. She seemed to like his presence, would smile and blush when she saw him. Sometimes the others could hear them giggling like a pair of schoolchildren. Little Strofe seemed quite taken by the young girl.}

^{"Looks like your brother got hisself a sweetheart," Preacher said to Strofe.}

^{The last evening they were there, Little Strofe approached Cain and said, "C-could I ask you something, Mr. Cain?"}

^{"Of course, Mr. Strofe."}

^{"You think I might could borrow your razor?"}

^{"Certainly." Cain went over to his saddlebags and took out his razor and a bar of soap. The small, stocky man headed out back to the watering trough and washed and shaved himself and put on some clean clothes. When he returned, Cain hardly recognized him. Clean-shaven, his face smooth and pale, shadowed a dark blue where his beard had been.}

^{"Why, you look like a new man, Mr. Strofe."}

^{He smiled good-naturedly.}

^{That night after the German girl was finished working, she and Little Strofe met out in the root cellar behind the barn.}

^{"Think your brother's diddlin' her?" Preacher asked Strofe. He was staring out a window toward the root cellar.}

^{"Ain't none of my business. Yours neither."}

^{"If'n he's gettin' his wick wet, I say good for him. That's what that boy needed."}

^{"You leave him be," ordered Strofe, who was now beginning to take a more brotherly attitude toward Little Strofe.}

^{Later that night, his brother came running back through the rain into the barn.}

^{"So, you get you any pussy?" Preacher asked, chuckling.}

^{"Shut your d-damn gob," Little Strofe cursed, turning on Preacher.}

^{"Who you tellin' to shut up?"}

^{"I w-won't have you t-talkin' like that about K-katarina," he stuttered nervously, shaking a fist in Preacher's face.}

^{"You'd bes' watch who you're threatenin', boy. Hell's bells, I'm just funnin' with you. Don't get yourself all in a lather."}

^{After he'd made his point, Little Strofe went over and lay down beside his dog. He petted Louella and spoke to her softly. Soon he was snoring.}

^{Cain closed his book and put his glasses in his vest pocket. He got up stiffly and hobbled over to where Rosetta sat sewing on a pile of hay. He held the key up and said, "It's time." She finished the stitch she was sewing and got up and went over to where the stanchions were and sat down in front of the cows. One of the Holsteins leaned down and smelled her hair, and Rosetta absently swatted its nose. After Cain had locked her wrists in the shackles, he called over to Henry, who was at the workbench hammering nails into the heel of one of his brogans.}

^{"Let's go, Henry."}

^{"Almost done here, massa."}

^{"Well, hurry up." Cain looked down at Rosetta. She had her shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and she looked pale and tired, as if the trip had worn her down, drained something out of her. "You all right?" he asked.}

^{She nodded.}

^{"There are more blankets in the tack room. I could get you one if you wanted."}

^{"I'm fine."}

^{He squatted down in front of her. In an undertone so the others couldn't hear him, he said, "What I told you the other day. About why I didn't get married."}

^{"You said you had to go to war."}

^{"Well, yes. That wasn't all true."}

^{"You didn't fight?"}

^{"No, I fought, all right," he explained. "It's that I didn't
have
to fight. That was just an excuse. I went off to war so I wouldn't have to marry her. I got cold feet and ran off one night. Never came back."}

^{"You ain't seen your family in all these years?"}

^{"No. My father disowned me. And my brother went ahead and married the woman I was supposed to," he said with a laugh.}

^{"That makes you a runaway, too, Cain."}

^{"I suppose it does."}

^{"Only thing, nobody huntin' you down and bringin' you back," she said, shaking her chains for emphasis.}