Chapter 22: Exorcism

What triggered Gail to leave so abruptly? She warned us she would leave when her boat was ready, and proceeded to make it ready with haste. I prefer believing when she left she was possessed by ghosts.

We discovered the head markers while we were bulldozing scrub to make more room. We needed more storage for catamarans and larger DIY boat yard both. The stones lay flat and were covered with several inches of dirt and a mass of blackberry canes. The dozer blade caught one stone’s edge and tipped it up out of it’s resting place. Reverently, we lowered it back down. While sweeping it clean, we discovered it’s mate beside it. Are these hoaxes? Or marking real graves? If they’re real, they’re historical mysteries according to Gail. She’s intigued with them and the persons maybe beneath them. They’re on Dallas’ land and he decides not to involve officials or media. It’s to be our secret. Everyone is sworn to secrecy. He plans putting a wrought iron fence around the plot, like an old family cemetery many ranches and farms still maintain.

Whose names are etched on the limestone slabs? Barely legible, Anne Bonny 8 March 1697- 23 August 1753 and Mary Reed 1685- 24 August 1753. History describes both women being sentenced to hang, convicted of piracy in Jamaica, in 1721. Executions postponed because the women claimed to be pregnant by pirate captain Calico Jack Rackham. At the same trial Calico Jack was sentenced and promptly hung. There is no record of the executions of the women. Probably never occurred. Also no records of their babies being born in prison or of their release. Their stories simply stop.

No real evidence exists as to what became of them. Mary Read may have died of fever in prison in 1722 according to one murky account.

Someone by the name Ann Bonny may have been buried in Jamaica in 1733, but these records are shadowy and dubious. Reality is, they disappeared from history. Is this then, where they actually met their ends thirty two years hence? Expiring together only one day apart? From what? Epidemic, or wounds? Did they fight each other? Have a falling out? Who buried them and inscribed their head stones? Kids born in prison and now grown?

All I know is, the discovery of these enigmatic stones inspired Gail to hasten her preparations to leave and soon she did. Just did.

Some of our women speculate treasure may be buried with these pirate women, but it’s extremely doubtful. They were active pirates for only two years before their arrest. Living an additional thirty two years, if they did survive, wouldn’t they likely spend it during these long decades? Any gold they might have originally hoarded, even if it was only eked out just a bit at a time, wouldn’t likely last thirty years. That’s a longtime to resist temptation to go off on a howl.

Dallas forbids opening the graves to investigate, so the treasure rumors persist.

My lust for Gail persists and now, will never be assuaged. Why didn’t I just rape her? I couldn’t, I’m not made that way, and I loved her so the thought never crossed my mind. Until now. Why now? Why ever? Because I’m frustrated and angry at being frustrated. Could I rape someone in this frame of mind? Not against her will, but I’d certainly fuck the shit out of a willing partner who liked it rough! Where’s Sally, when she actually could be some good?

Startling news if it’s true. Sally left with Gail hidden aboard Gail’s boat. I never suspected Sally was lesbian or bi. Everyone I say that to, laughs. It was common knowledge those two paired up almost as soon as they met. They were a pair even when Sally was pretending to be my queen. Damn! Damn them both! I wish I could get my hands on those two. I’d give them something to ... no I wouldn’t.

Better walk it off! As violently aroused as I am, even with so many willing partners available to me, there is none I’d dare have sex with in my current mood. Guilt and shame would surely follow. Maybe Elaine can ease my woe? With soothing herbs and scents? Doubt it, don’t believe in it. Music to sooth the savage breast? Mood music?

Better yet, get in a brawl. Furiously fucking somebody or fuck somebody up with my fists? Equally attractive options right now. The agenda is to cause pain. I’m hurting and want to lash out, and give some hurt back. I just don’t want to hurt people I care about. Nor innocent strangers either. An enemy would be good, if handy.

Surprise! All this time I’ve been stewing, I’ve also been walking. I remember thinking I’d better walk it off but don’t remember starting out to walk. Where am I? Somewhere in the boonies, somewhere along the county blacktop. No lights yet but it’s dusk already, and getting soon dark. Better return the way I came. Can’t have come far. Too far. When did I leave camp? Sometime in the afternoon. Hours ago? Couldn’t be hours, my internalized conversation wasn’t that long. Or, did I replay it over and over? Wasn’t enjoyable musings.

Better get off the road. Lights approaching, a car or truck with dual headlamps. Deep ditch along here, too wide to leap and a narrow shoulder. Can I make it across the road to the other side? Safer over there if there’s time to cross. Run for it! Screeching of smoking, stinking, brakes, the dark sedan slides to a stop. I was barely missed being run down. The driver’s widow powers down. Driver curses.

“Are you drunk, or a damned idiot, or both? Jumping in front of my car like that, you must have a death wish. Serve you right.”

The gravelly grating angry voice of Emma Schmidt. Right on time for the battle I need. Hopefully, her punk body guards are with her.

“They still let you drive at your age, Emma? It’s a mistake.”

“Well, looky here, I swear if it ain’t my nemesis, Joey Codo. If I’d recognized you in time, Codo, I’d have swerved just to get you.”

“No doubt, Emma, no doubt you would have and claimed it was accidental.”

“Damned straight, that’s exactly what I’d have done! What are you doing way out here, anyway? Them sheeple gals finally drive you off? Did they catch you dicken em, molesting the sexy little lambs?”

“Ain’t been caught yet. Besides, with all those gaping women twats so handy, who needs to bother with molesting sheep? Have to catch the ewes first, but with the women, all I need to do is stand still and they’re all over me.”

“I don’t doubt it, stud, indeed I don’t. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

“Not sure getting in your car is safe. Might be planning to take me somewhere too far to walk back and demand I put out or get out.”

“We do think alike, stud, indeed. So tell me the truth, you never once missed having another tumble with me?”

Tell the truth.

“Right this moment, there is no one I’d rather fuck than you Em!”

“I feel exactly the same way about you, stud. Quit stalling. Get in.”

We went to her house and literally fucked the slats out of her bed. Really did! Ended up with the mattress and springs catawampus with a twenty degree list, and I’m proud it didn’t slow us down much.

In case some of you aren’t familiar with the colloquialism, it comes from cater-cornered, meaning angled on the diagonal, and wampish, which is Scottish for flopping about.

Worked out my angst and had a swell time doing it. Emma is a fright to wake up next to in the morning, but she certainly has a fine pussy, and now I’ve had her again, I remember I wanted more after the first time too. The situation went sour before I had the opportunity. Emma swears she ain’t letting me get away again.

“Love and hate are two sides of the same passion coin, stud!”

Emma assures me. We set up something of a schedule of weekly jousting rendezvous, with options of more frequent get togethers as needed. We still don’t like each other, but our genitals are very fond of each other and delight in getting together.