Chapter 7

“Where is everyone?” Jake shouted from the kitchen.

Mrs. Wallerman’s hands flew to her mouth. The towel fell, exposing her milky-white breasts and large nipples. She yanked her nightgown up and slipped her arms through the straps. Steele rushed to the doorway and strolled down the hall into the kitchen.

Jake jumped back. “What are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you.”

“Why did they let you in?”

“I told the nig--”

“Wait! Did you just come from my bedroom?”

“Look, it’s not what you think.”

“The hell it ain’t.”

Jake charged. Steele stepped to the side and shoved him. Jake flew by, tumbled to the floor, rolled twice, and scrambled to his hands and knees with teeth clenched. He lunged at Steele’s legs. Steele leapt over him. Jake landed on his belly with arms stretched out in front of him like Superman.

“Take it easy,” Steele said. “Nothing happened.”

Jake clambered to his hands and knees and turned to face Steele. “Clyde was right about you. We should have listened to him.”

“Who’s Clyde?”

“Buff’s brother. He told us not to trust you. He’s the police chief. When I tell him what you did, you’re gonna get it.”

Behind Jake, Mrs. Wallerman appeared at the end of the hallway with Tilda hunkering behind her. Jake’s wife wore nothing more than the blue, satin nightgown which ended higher than mid-thigh. The slinky material clung to her body, hugging her hips. Her round breasts bounced freely and the crinkly pubic hair puffed out the area at her groin.

“Jake, stop it!” Mrs. Wallerman shouted.

Jake looked over his shoulder. His upper lip curled into a tight line showing teeth. “Sue Ellen, put on some fuckin’ clothes!”

She held up her arm and waved her hand. “All he did was bandage my wrist.”

Jake jumped to his feet. “With you dressed like that? You fuckin’ slut!”

He backhanded his wife across the face. Her head jerked to the side and her knees buckled. Tilda tried to catch her, but they both crumbled to the floor.

Steele tackled Jake. The two rolled on the floor, Jake struggling to break free, hands pulling, legs kicking. Steele got to one knee and hurled him across the room. Jake slid on the linoleum floor and crashed into a kitchen chair. Steele scurried to Mrs. Wallerman on his hands and knees and cradled her head in his arms. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

“Look out!” Tilda shouted.

Steele spun around to see Jake charging. He jumped to his feet and swung a leg in a roundhouse kick that landed on Jake’s cheek. Jake flew backwards. Stunned. Steele waited. Jake shook his head and stomped up to Steele with both fists raised. He faked a left jab and threw a punch with his right. Steele ducked. As Jake’s fist sailed over his head, he rammed his knuckles into the man’s gut. Jake dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for air. Steele lifted Jake’s head by his collar.

“So you like hitting women,” Steele said.

Steele slapped Jake’s left cheek and then backhanded his right one. He yanked Jake to his feet and drove a knee into his gut. The air burst from Jake’s lungs through his mouth. Steele punched Jake in the jaw. He dropped and lay motionless.

Steele rushed back to Mrs. Wallerman who was sprawled on the floor with her head cradled in Tilda’s lap. Her legs were apart with the bottom of the short nightgown high up her thighs, the hem barely covering her pussy. Tilda tugged the nightgown down when Steele looked between Mrs. Wallerman’s legs and then stroked her cheek.

Mrs. Wallerman’s eyes fluttered open. She looked around and then her eyes filled with fear. She shot up to a sitting position, calming down when Steele placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I caused you problems,” Steele said.

“You didn’t cause it. Jake’s always like that.” Her bottom lip stuck out. “I’m afraid I caused you problems. The police chief will be after you now.”

“I can’t let that happen.” Steele glanced at Jake lying on the floor and then back at his wife. “Mrs. Wallerman--”

“Please call me Sue Ellen.”

“Sue Ellen, I need information from your husband. I need to question him.”

“He won’t tell you anything.”

Steele studied Mrs. Wallerman’s face. “The way I ask questions, people answer them.”

“Are you going to hurt him?”

“Yes.”

“Good. He deserves it. I would have left him years ago if I could have.”

“I don’t want you to see it.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

Tilda grabbed her collar. “And I can’t leave the house.”

“I’ll take him out back. Stay in the house. Turn on the radio or something.”

Steele flung Jake over his shoulder and carried him out the back door. Now that a break in the clouds allowed the moon to shine, the backyard, if you could call it that, was in worse shape than he had thought. Nothing but dirt and weeds. Steele saw more junk scattered about than when he walked the perimeter. There was even an old sink lying out there. And a lot of animal bones.

Steele carried Jake down the back-porch steps and headed for the side farthest from the bedroom, remembering to avoid stepping on the rake. He laid Jake down. Not too gently. When the back of his head banged the ground, Jake grunted and stirred. His eyes opened to see Steele towering over him.

Jake bolted. He got halfway up when Steele placed the sole of his boot on Jake’s shoulder and shoved him back down.

“This can be easy or hard on you,” Steele said. “Your choice.”

Jake tried to stand. Steele kicked him down again, placed a foot on his chest, and slid it under his chin. Onto his neck. Jake grabbed the leg and pulled with all his might. The foot didn’t budge.

Jake dropped his arms. “Just get the fuck out of my sight,” he said with venom in his voice.

“I want answers.”

“To what? You probably already know what my wife’s cunt feels like.”

Steele removed his foot from Jake’s throat. Jake rubbed his neck while glaring up at Steele.

“For what it’s worth,” Steele said, “I didn’t do anything with your wife. Other than bandage her wrist. You’re a worthless piece of shit, you know. Did hitting her make you feel like a big man?”

“She’s a cunt.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“What do you want?”

“I told you. Answers.”

“To what?”

“Where’s the key to Tilda’s collar?”

“Fuck you!”

Steele ground the heel of his boot on Jake’s forearm. He screamed. When Steele took his foot away, Jake hugged his aching arm to his body.

“Easy or hard,” Steele said, “your choice.”

“You’re a dead man.”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing. So where’s the key?”

“I don’t have it.”

“Who does?”

“Buff.”

“Does the key fit all the collars?”

“Yes.”

“Who made the collars?”

“Don’t know.”

Steele raised his foot.

Jake cringed. “I don’t know!” he shouted. “Clyde got them.”

“What happened to Buck Miller?”

Steele saw the surprise and then apprehension in Jake’s eyes.

“Never heard of him.”

“Hard, eh?”

Steele bent over, grabbed Jake’s shirt, and lifted him most of the way up. He jammed his fist into Jake’s gut. Jake’s knees buckled, but Steele held him up. He punched him again, and then dropped him. Jake coughed as he rolled onto his forearms. Spittle drooled from his mouth onto the dirt. Steele stood over Jake with crossed arms, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Buck Miller?” Steele asked.

“I don’t know him.”

Steele looked around. He spotted a hose connected to a hose bib on the side of the house. He grabbed a handful of Jake’s hair and dragged him to it. Steele knelt with a knee on Jake’s chest. Jake squirmed under the weight as Steele picked up the hose. He pinched Jake’s nose. Jake clamped his mouth shut tight, but when he opened his mouth to breathe, Steele jammed the end of the hose into Jake’s mouth and pushed up under his jaw to keep it there. Jake’s eyes opened wide when Steele reached for the hose bib. He struggled to pull the hose out as Steele turned it on.

It took a few moments for the water to reach the end of the hose. When it did, it came out in a gush. First a gagging noise came from Jake, then gurgling, and then water spewed from his mouth around the hose and out of his nostrils. His body jerked as Steele continued to push up on his chin, sealing the hose inside his mouth. Jake’s face turned blue. Steele yanked the hose out and stood up, showering the side of the house before turning the water off. Jake rolled onto his side. Sputtering. Coughing. His face lying in a pool of mud.

“We can do this all night,” Steele said. “What happened to Buck Miller?”

Jake clambered onto his hands and knees. With his head hanging, he sucked in air and spat water. Jake raised a hand toward Steele, palm up. Steele waited.

Jake rolled onto his hip and looked up. “He was a nigger causing trouble.”

“What happened to him?”

Jake remained silent. Steele picked up the hose.

“Clyde hung him!” Jake shouted.

“Just the police chief?”

“Buff was with him.” Steele took a step closer. Jake scooted backward and raised his hand. “I wasn’t there! I swear! Buff told me about it.”

“How many of you in your gang?”

“What gang?”

“Your group. How many of you own slaves?”

“Just me and Buff.”

“How about the others at the bar at the inn?”

“They don’t know. They’re not family. I’m Clyde and Buff’s cousin so I was okay. But Clyde said not to tell anyone. And when he says something--”

Jake clambered onto his hands and knees and lunged at Steele’s legs. He landed on his belly when Steele jumped back. Jake did it again. Steele kicked him in the face and backed up. Jake jumped to his feet and charged. Steele flipped him over his hip. When Jake scrambled to his feet again, the shovel was in his hands. He swung it in a sweeping motion like a sickle.

Steele thrust his butt back and sucked in his gut. Whoosh. The metal part of the shovel missed him by inches.

Steele wrenched the shovel from Jake and tossed it aside. Jake charged. Steele thrust his arms straight out, his hands smashing into Jake’s chest. Jake flew backward with his feet in the air. He landed on his tailbone and then the back of his head crashed into the ground.

Steele waited, but Jake had enough. Or he was knocked out. Steele strolled up to the man and saw the blood pooling around Jake’s head. Crouching, Steele took a closer look. When he lifted Jake’s head, the rake came with it. The rusty prongs had gone through Jake’s skull into his brain.

Steele went back into the house. He found Mrs. Wallerman and Tilda on the bed clutching each other. Their eyes met his when he entered the bedroom.

“Where’s Jake?” Mrs. Wallerman asked.

“Out back.”

“He’ll run away.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“You tied him up?”

“Not exactly. He had an accident.”

Mrs. Wallerman’s hand flew to her mouth. “You killed him?”

“Not exactly. Technically, yes. But it was an accident. He fell on the rake. His head landed on the prongs. They were face up.”

Mrs. Wallerman shivered. “Yuck. Deserves him right, though. I used to tell him to pick it up back when...” She lowered her eyes.

“When?” Steele asked.

“When he treated me like a wife.”

“What happens now?” Tilda asked.

“I’m not sure. I have to think about it. I’d normally have you call the cops and tell them he fell on the rake, but with the police chief who he is...” Steele lowered his head and shook it. “He doesn’t trust me as it is.”

Tilda wriggled out of Mrs. Wallerman’s arms and sat up straight. “Do you have the key to my collar?”

“No. He said Bufford has the key.”

“So I can’t leave?”

“Not yet.”

“What about you?” Mrs. Wallerman asked.

“What about me?”

“Where are you going now?”

“I guess back to the inn. I really hate leaving Jake’s body out there. But if I bury it the police chief will go looking. If he finds it buried he’ll know there was foul play.”

“It’s late,” Mrs. Wallerman said, “stay here tonight.”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“You won’t. I could use the company. I really don’t want to be alone right now.”