Kennedy Hoss of Musket

Chapter 17: Ain't Goin' Back

Song: Barton Hollow by the Civil Wars

With heavy arms, I drag my half-finished birch canoe through the forest. It's dawn by the time I near the edge, and my wandering thoughts are jolted awake by people talking.

"Hey Rolfe?"

"What's that Buffy?"

"Hell 'lotta porch-walkers askin' for these things, ain't there?"

"Sure thing, Rolfe."

At the end of the forest there sits two short, plump, unshaven men sitting around a smoldering campfire. There's a tent pitched just to the side with a ring dug in the dirt around it. The men sit on logs surrounded by canteens and maps and knives.

One man, the taller of the them with long brown goatee and a raccoon cap sits by the tent, wearing worn overalls and a plaid red shirt. He sharpens his knife, whistling a random tune. The koother man with dark gray hair and matching raccoon hat also wears filthy torn overalls, with a plaid red shirt. He sits with a dead blackback across his knee.

Behind them, basking in the early light, is a beautiful canoe of golden wood lying on its side. The wood glistens like a pan of freshly melted gold, and the oars leaning on the slide look like sticks of honey. I lick my lips just looking at the beautiful sight, and abandon my own craft.

I quickly open my pack and pull out a white sheet and my snakeskin from Ana. Hopefully, the two men were as stupid as they looked. If so, that canoe would be mine in no time.

-

My new white "dress" flutters behind me in the wind. I walk gracefully, as I the ground was stone and I was but a china doll. As I approach, the two men stop talking and get to their feet, squinting at me in the sunlight. I walk with my head held high, as if I know what is going to happen. Maybe a confident princess from no where was I meant to be. Feeling my stiff scar stretch, I fight the urge to smile at the absurd idea.

The two men stand, slack-jawed, watching me as I take my place on the smallest log stood by the fire for later burning.

"It is a fine fire," I say, positioning my gaze as if I am transfixed by the burning embers.

"Well thank'ee, miss," one of the men responds. There's a thump followed by an umph and the other man speaks.

"Are you lost, misus? Can we be of service?"

I laugh a little to myself, taking the question a little too seriously.

"Me? Princess of the Hollow? It is you, if any, who appear to be lost."

The men stare at me, before sitting back down on their logs.

"How do we know you a real princ-"

I jerk my head towards the sun suddenly.

"The sunrise..." I pull out the blackback skin slowly and ostentatiously. The men's eyes lock on it. "I must burn away the bad spirits that are after me."

Just as I am about to throw the skin into the fire, I am interrupted by brown beard.

"Wait! Misus, don't burn that skin!" He lunges towards me but falls short.

"Rolfe ye old wolf," gray beard says, kicking the man in the backside. "What bad spirits do you speak of, your highness?"

"The bad spirits of my ancestors," I say, looking away wistfully, "they're after me. Need to get up river to find their bones and give them a proper burial, or else my family will be cursed. Burning these skins is the only thing that keeps them calm for a little while." I lift the skin in the air again.

The men exchange looks.

"That won't do ya no good, princess. Buffy here knows all about that kind of mumbo-jumbo."

Gray beard nods.

"Ain't no good to hold 'em off like that, only makes 'em angrier."

I lower the snakeskin and slide it across my hands. After working at it for a minute, I squeeze a tear from my eye and let it roll down my cheek.

"Don't cry misus," Rolfe says, daring to reach out and give my shoulder a gentle pat, "we'd be happy to help you."

I look towards their canoe, sitting still and tempting.

"I need a canoe to cross the river, and I'd be happy if you gentlemen could provide me with one."

Buffy's eyes widen, and Rolfe elbows him in the gut.

"I dunno bout that princess, that's our only way of travel. We can't stay here much longer."

"Why is that?"

The men remove their raccoon hats, and tilt their bald heads to reveal a long line of numbers tattooed across their heads.

"Things are bad up north, miss," Rolfe says softly. "Keep us in big pens like chickens," Buffy continued, "tattooin' our heads so they can tell us apart. You can cut off yer arm, but ya cain't cut off yer head."

Their eyes glisten mournfully and a hole swells in my heart for these outsiders. I am tempted to tell them the truth.

"We come down here to make some money, we heard that's what the escaped HFT and HFEs do," Buffy explains.

I have never heard of an HFT or HFE in my life.

"I'm not looking for a trade, just a loan," I reply, "I can tell you wear the biggest nest of blackbacks are, can tell you how to kill 'em."

The men exchange looks.

"Okay," Buffy says. "But we'll need the canoe back in two or three days tops."

I nod meaningfully and sling my pack over my back. They don't seem suspicious about it, so I'm relived.

-

I hand them my only map of Musket, where I have just completed marking the locations of the snake holes, with detailed directions and markers.

"Either put a couple hot rocks around the opening or flush it out with cold water, lay the gum in a one foot radius around the hole. Right after about ten of them come out, push a rock or log over the hole right away and chop the heads off. Even if you think there are more in the hole, block the hole right away."

The two men nod and each of them give me a gentle kiss on the hand. They assist me into the canoe and I am handed both paddles.

"Thank you," Buffy says, "good luck to you."

I nod as the two men push the canoe into the river and I'm off. My heart sort of breaks for lying to them.

© 2013, Diana Bail. Except as provided by the Copyright Act [September 8, 2013] no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.