The Man and The Outlaw

Chapter Ten

"Todd Pryor? What's he got to do with all this?" Loren asked from where he sat on the couch in Mae's living room. Mae had doctored him up as soon as they'd made it to the house and had forced him to put his arm in a sling. He was also wearing sunglasses as the lights in the house hurt his head. Mae, seated beside him, kept watching him with a worried expression on her face, caressing his arm absentmindedly.
"You know this guy?" Walker asked him. His lip was a little swollen but at least had stopped bleeding. Clara had apologized exhaustively for hitting him on the remainder of their ride in, her anger at his taking the shot mostly evaporated as she saw both her friends with their lives still intact by his actions.
"Sure," Loren replied. "Clara and her father sold cattle to him all the time. He owns a ranch in Carsonville and they'd take herds over there every year to sell them off."
Walker glanced at Clara. "So how do you go from doing business to killing and kidnapping?"
"It's easier than you think," she scoffed but said no more. She did not want to talk about Todd Pryor anymore than she wanted to talk about her dead father. They all watched her.
"What?" she finally snapped. "What do you want from me?"
She got up from her chair and walked from one end of the room to the other, suddenly nervous and bursting to move. Walker's eyes tracked her.
"Clara, what's going on?" he asked. "Why is this guy after you?"
"We can't help if you don't tell us," Loren pointed out.
"I don't need your help!" she shouted, her hands shaking so much that she squeezed them into fists to still them. "I didn't ask for your help!"
"All of our lives were put in danger tonight," Walker started.
"You're saying that's my fault?" Clara glowered at him.
"Of course, I'm not, but we deserve to know why." He got to his feet and stood in front of her so she could no longer pace the floor. Carefully, he took her hands in his, opening them so that they lay palm up on his own. She tried hard to keep them from trembling, but they only stopped when he closed his hands around them again.
"I can't," she whispered, her voice threatening to break as she fought back tears and heard her heart pounding in her ears. She never thought she'd have to face this again. She'd promised herself that she'd never tell anyone.
"You can do anything," he said, holding her hands firmly and staring straight into her eyes, the pale blues of his seeming to see right through her. In that moment, she believed him.
"Todd Pryor owns a ranch in Carsonville," she began. "My father and I sold cattle to him every year, just like Loren said..."

Clara and her father had always made a trip of the cattle sale. Carsonville was a four-day ride by horse but, because they had to take a trailer and haul cows, it was the one and only time they ever drove the truck. With it, they could make the trip in half a day. All that time saved, her father always made a point to drive to Eastwood National Park, not much further than Carsonville, and they'd camp out for a few days, fishing, and cooking over a fire, enjoying the quiet and the time spent together. Clara used to think back on these trips fondly.
The last time she went to Carsonville, she went alone. Her father became violently ill the night before the trip and wanted to cancel the whole thing. Clara knew that those cows had to be delivered, Todd Pryor was expecting them and to miss an appointment could mean gaining a bad reputation and losing business. The farm couldn't afford to lose it. They couldn't afford to lose it. Clara promised her dad that she could take care of it herself. She wasn't a child, and a half day trip was nothing. She'd done it a million times with him, and Todd had never treated them with anything but fairness. They'd even shared meals with him before from time to time. He wasn't much older than Clara herself, twenty-six or so if she had to guess, and he'd always been kind to her. Never even asked to see her marks.
She convinced her father and left early the next morning with a load of cattle. It was an easy enough trip and she arrived at Pryor's ranch right on time. He was waiting on the porch for her with a cup of coffee in his hand though it was nearing on noon. He wore dark colored jeans, a button-down shirt with a vest over top, and a gray felt cowboy hat. Pinned to the front of his vest as one always was, a little purple flower stood out against the material. She wasn't at all surprised by this getup, she'd noticed that Todd was a bit of a dandy with the way he dressed and the way he spoke. He thought highly of himself, and she supposed that was better than hating yourself.
He had some ranch hands come and help her unload the animals and then invited her in for a late lunch. Clara, who hadn't eaten since before she left, was grateful for the invitation and accepted. Todd didn't have to show her around his large house, she'd been there and seen it all many times over. It was much larger than the home she shared with her father, and she was always slightly impressed to see it again.
He served her food and drink and they chatted amicably together for a while. She wouldn't have called Todd Pryor a "friend", but he was more than an acquaintance and she felt no reason to be suspicious of him or nervous around him. She would decide later that some men, some women too she was sure, had a way of hiding who they truly were, the kind of beast they were on the inside, until it was too late to escape. She would always wonder if most of them suspected it of themselves or if they were just as surprised as anyone when the moment of revelation came.
When Clara excused herself to head back home, she found that the truck wouldn't start. It was old and finicky to begin with, and she figured the trip had been too much for it at last. She tried everything she could think of to revive the machine, but it wouldn't even humor her.
"Unlucky," Todd commented, coming up behind her as she gave the truck's tire a swift kick of frustration. He brushed his hat back on his head and took a look at it himself.
"I'm not much for mechanics," he admitted after perusing the engine and trying all the things Clara had already attempted. "I can get somebody out to check it for you, but they won't be able to get out here until the morning I'd reckon."
Clara had wanted to be on the road and halfway back by now, but the sun was already lowering, and the truck was not budging. She considered her predicament.
"Got a motel in town you could drop me off at?" she asked him.
He smiled and shook his head at her. "Nonsense. You can stay here. I've got plenty of room. Besides, the motel in town is run by a man that wouldn't take too kindly to your...condition."
He glanced at her scarf for the first time since she'd been there, and Clara felt her cheeks rise with a self-conscious heat. She looked back up at the house from which she'd just came, its numerous windows and rooms. It was just one night. She knew Todd Pryor well enough. What could it hurt?
She phoned her father and told him what had happened.
"Good thing you weren't halfway here and broke down on the side of the road. Thank Todd for me, would you?" he had said. In the end, it wasn't just Clara who had been fooled.
They wasted time between then and dinner, chatting about nothing in particular. After they'd eaten again and the sun had long since disappeared, Todd showed her to a room off the main part of the house. It was fully furnished, a tall dresser on one side and a queen bed with two night tables on the other, but it didn't appear as though anyone had stayed there for quite some time.
"I'm down the hall and to the right if you need anything," he told her as he turned to go.
"Don't you get lonely in this big ole place?" Clara questioned, observing the bedroom again that was much larger than hers at home. From what she'd gathered on her previous trips, Todd lived alone.
"You'd think so, but I don't mind it," he shrugged.
When he was gone, Clara lay down on the unfamiliar mattress and swiftly fell asleep. Her body was tired, and she slept hard for a few hours. She woke only when she heard the bedroom door open and felt the bed shift as someone got in beside her.
For a moment, she was too confused to move, unsure where she was or what was going on. It was very dark in the room, as the sun hadn't come up yet to shine through the window at her right, and she groped for the lamp on the table beside her. A rough hand closed around hers and jerked it away from the light, pinning it against the mattress at her side. Panic reared inside Clara as she felt a heavy weight on her mid-section. She couldn't believe this was happening. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, and she struggled against the weight on top of her, trying to pull her arm free at least. The hand gripping her held fast and the weight was too much for her to get out from under.
She opened her mouth, knowing she could stop this if only she could put the man under a trance. She knew it was a man now by the smell of him and the feel of his body on hers. She opened her mouth wider, her mind collecting a command that would stop him, but the words would not come. She couldn't even manage to scream; no sound would come out at all. Her chance gone, the man's other hand found her still open mouth and covered it, holding hard against her face to block any noise that might've escaped. Tears rolled down her cheeks as despair gripped her chest. She was trapped and unable to save herself from what she knew was coming.
She felt the man lift her shirt, releasing her arm so he could keep one hand over her mouth, and a full-bodied rage filled her as his fingertips brushed her lower belly. She jerked and kicked with all her might against the force that held her, swinging her fists at where she could only guess his head was above her. She connected with what felt like a neck and the man gave a surprised gasp. The weight on top of her shifted slightly and she tried to turn on her side to get in a better position, the man's hand slipping down her face.
With her mouth free again, she tried once more to speak but before she could, a hand grabbed her by the hair, and another struck her in the right temple. Stars flashed across her eyes and the world seemed to slow as the room began to tilt around her. The man turned her back over as she sank into semi-consciousness, partially aware of what was going on but unable to do anything or make her body move to protect herself.
The next thing she knew, there was sunlight falling across the room and she was alone. What had happened in the dark felt like a terrible dream, one she lay there remembering as her head throbbed and her body protested her attacker's treatment of it. She had no doubt what he had done to her, she had felt all of it in the awful darkness, and yet she tried to convince herself it had not happened, could not have happened. Not to her. She'd been foolish enough to leave her gun in the truck yesterday, but she had been born with the ability to protect herself from just such things as this. No, it couldn't have happened. She would have stopped it.
But it had happened, and as she lay there, crying softly, she was ashamed. She had not even seen the man's face, could not identify him if she wanted to. Todd had several ranch hands on staff, all of whom seemed slightly rough at the edges, and any of them could've gotten into the house and sought her, found her in the bedroom, done what was done. Her mind raced as she thought of the implications. What if they'd given her a disease? Worse than that, what if they'd given her a child? Would she be able to raise a child fathered by such a man? Bred by such an evil act? How would she even be able to look at it? She pushed the thought away. It was too soon for such things. First, she needed to get up, take stock of her condition, make sure she was not hurt worse than she thought.
Slowly, each movement causing waves of pain to shoot through her head and lower abdomen, Clara got to her feet. She swayed there for a moment before steadying herself. She didn't know how she'd be able to face Todd at breakfast. She knew she should tell him, warn him of the kind of men he was working with, but the thought of admitting what had happened made her sick to her stomach. How would he look at her? What would he say?
On the floor near the door, she caught sight of something small and colorful, something familiar. She walked over and knelt beside it, carefully picking it up between her thumb and forefinger. It was a little, crushed purple flower, the very same kind that Todd always wore pinned to his shirts.
Her face fell in horror, and she rushed to the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom and threw up. She sat against the wall in the little room, trying to catch her breath and stop her tears. There would be no need to tell Todd what had happened. He had been there all along.
When she finally felt that her legs would carry her, she got up, cleaned herself up, put herself together and left the room to find the man that had raped her. She clenched the little flower in her fist as she went.
Todd was sitting at the dining room table, a half-eaten plate of eggs and sausage in front of him. There was a second, full plate sitting in front of the chair beside him, grown cold waiting for Clara to emerge. He was leaned back and reading the newspaper when she entered. He looked over the paper at her. Her face was twisted into a scowl and her eyes were still a touch red from her tears. He lifted his eyebrows at her and put the paper down.
"What happened?" he asked, putting just the right amount of worry in his voice to be convincing. He got up from the table, but she put a hand out to stop him from coming any closer.
"Why?" she asked him.
"Why what, Clara?" he cracked an uncertain smile, but his eyes were wary.
"You came into my room last night," she snarled.
Todd chuckled. "Clara, I'm afraid you're mistaken. I never went anywhere near your room last night. If something happened, I can assure you that I was sound asleep in my own bed all night long."
Clara took a few steps closer to the table, Todd still planted beside it. "You were there."
He narrowed his eyes at her, still smiling. "I promise you; I was not. There are seven or eight ranch hands coming in and out of the house at all hours to do their work or get some rest. If someone was in your room last night, perhaps you gave one of them the wrong idea, or maybe you extended an invitation that you now regret."
His words slapped her in the face, and she felt the sting of them as though he had reached out and hit her with his hand again. She swallowed hard as a fury so strong she shook with it threatened to overtake her. She wanted to be calm in this moment, wanted to enjoy it.
She slammed her hand down on the table, rattling the utensils that were neatly set, and lifted it to reveal the smashed purple flower she had found. Todd's face dissolved into shock and then lit with practiced indifference.
"Is that supposed to frighten me?" The pretense had been dropped. His face was a steely mask that betrayed no remorse.
"What will you do Clara? Tell the authorities on me? Whose word do you think they'll be more inclined to believe, hm? Mine, a reputable businessman, or yours, a strange woman marked as a..."
As he realized his mistake too late, Clara smirked and spoke firmly in her Silvertongue's voice, "Sit down Todd."
Todd's face fell into a relaxed stupor, and he did just as she ordered him to, falling back into the chair he had been eating breakfast in. He had been too far away to restrain her and, with no gun to threaten her, he was powerless to resist her. He sat with his mouth slightly open and his eyes staring straight ahead.
She felt a strong urge to hurt him badly. She even thought about killing him. It would serve him right for what he'd done, but she trembled at the thought of doing it, or making him do it to himself. As angry and hurt as she was, she was not ready to be responsible for anyone's death. Instead, she would try to make him feel the same shame that now weighed heavily on her own shoulders and would, she knew, for the rest of her life.
"Listen to me carefully," she began.
"Get into your car and drive to the very middle of the busiest street in Carsonville. Get out and stand on the sidewalk, take off all your clothes, and start walking up and down the street. Don't let anyone stop you. Every person you meet, anyone who tries to talk to you, I want you to tell them, 'My name is Todd Pryor, and I hid in the dark like a coward and raped a woman while she slept.' Do you understand me?"
Todd nodded his head slowly, his face never changing expression.
"Go on then," Clara commanded and immediately the man was on his feet and out the front door. She waited, listening as a car started outside and then drove off. She didn't feel any better, but she was satisfied he would not be happy when he finally woke from the trance. She hoped he met lots of people before he did.
Clara left the Pryor ranch far behind her, the truck started up the first time she tried the key of course, and on the way, she contemplated what she would say to her father. She would not tell him what had happened. Not only was she still raw with shame, but she knew that he would only blame himself for it. If he had not been sick, they would've made the trip together and Todd never would've had the courage to do what he'd done. She knew he would only see it this way and he would never forgive himself for doing something so inherently ordinary as catching a bad bout of flu. She couldn't let him live with that, nor could she run the risk of having him find out and immediately race off to kill Todd himself. She would not see him thrown in prison for her.
No, she had never told her father what happened between her and Todd that night in Carsonville. She didn't regret it either for, just a few months later, he was dead...