In Wilderness Found

Chapter 4: "Leaving to Where?"

An hour has passed and Abner still hasn’t left the bedroom. The night is approaching swiftly and Madison’s mind is spiraling. If she is fast, she can make it out to the barn and onto Peaches before he notices she’s gone. Alternatively, he could catch her and she knows what will happen if he does.

Her ribs and cheek still ache with a dull pain from his earlier assault and the spiraling in her brain comes to a halt. 

She has to leave - regardless of the consequences. But she can’t go empty handed, and where will she even go?

Madison tries not to think about that question while she quietly packs two dresses, a pair of britches, and a long-sleeved shirt into a leather satchel. She stuffs a jar of beans and the wrapped-up remnants of last night’s cornbread into the bag. 

After cautiously slipping through the front door, she makes the biggest strides she can over to the barn. Peaches is standing by the gate, and she looks up curiously as Madison approaches in a frantic manner. 

“Hey, girl. We’re going on a trip,” she tells the horse as calmly as she can, giving her a quick pat on her long blonde nose. Peaches can be timid when approached suddenly, but she emits a low, happy nicker in response to Madison’s greeting.

As Madison ties her satchel to the horse, the front door swings open, the old hinges nearly breaking off in protest at the sudden movement.

“Where the hell are you going?” Abner screams, his voice slurred. He begins to descend off the porch toward her, his hair discheleved and his eyes angry.

“I’m leaving,” Madison replies simply, quickly finishing the knot in her bag. Then, she turns to face him at the same time she takes a subtle step to the right putting her closer to the wooden crate she needs inside of.

“Leaving to where?” he demands, edging closer. She sees the whiskey bottle has found its way back to his hand.

“I’m not sure.” Keep your voice calm, Madison, she thinks. Her heart is nearly hammering out of her chest, and her palms feel sticky. She is anything but calm, and he can’t know that.

“Get back in the house.”

“No.”

Abner lets out a wicked laugh as if her defiance is the most humorous thing he’s ever heard. “Get back in the house, Madison.”

“I said no.”

He sighs, and brings his fingers up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in frustration before speaking. “You won’t make it. You have nowhere to go and you can’t make it without me.” 

“I’m going to try,” she says, and risks a quick glance down at the wooden crate at her feet.

“No, you’re not,” Abner scoffs, “You can’t leave me. I didn’t come all this way for you to leave me!” He is yelling now, and advancing swiftly toward her, that whiskey bottle swinging in his fist.

Within seconds, the pistol from the crate is in Madison’s fingers and the barrel is pointed at Abner’s head.

“What -”, he doesn’t have a chance to finish whatever he was going to say before Madison steps toward him.

“You will let me leave.”

Even though her insides feel twisted and she thinks she might throw up at any moment, her words come out confident. The threat is not lost on Abner. For the first time in ages, Madison sees him startled and at a loss for words.

Despite his drunken haze, seeing Madison with the weapon sobers him up slightly. He wants to believe that she can’t - or won’t - shoot him, but he isn’t too drunk to remember that she grew up shooting rifles with her father, so why shouldn’t she be able to use a pistol?

She tries to keep a solid grip on the gun, but her palms are sweating, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s crying until a hot tear slides down her cheek.

“Where will you go?” Abner repeats his earlier question, but softer and quieter than before.

“It doesn’t matter where I go, Abner, as long as I’m not here with you,” she bites back the ugly sob that’s threatening to surface from her throat. 

Holding the pistol in her left hand, still aimed at her husband, she bends to the wooden crate once more. He watches her closely, but doesn’t make a move forward. When she stands upright again, he sees the loose .44 caliber rounds she’s gathered in her right hand from the crate.

Abner swallows hard, suddenly feeling much more clear headed than he was five minutes ago. 

Madison drops the extra ammo into the satchel tied to Peaches, the pistol barrel still never leaving Abner’s direction. When he says nothing else to her, she scowls. 

With the weapon pointed at her husband, her nervousness has now been replaced with indignation. “This is your fault.”

Abner nods. There’s no point in arguing with her while she’s armed and angry, and she is showing no sign of letting up on her aim towards him. Her green eyes are blazing in a rage he’s never seen before and, quite frankly, he is sort of afraid.

She gently pulls Peaches by the halter away from the barn gate so that the horse is standing right beside her. “Don’t come after me,” she tells her husband as she pulls herself up into the saddle one-handed.

“You’re really leaving.” Abner forms the statement, not a question, with a frown on his lips. 

After giving him a curt nod, her red, messy updo slightly flopping forward as she does, Madison jerks the stirrups and Peaches takes off in trot. 

He should be relieved. He should be damn happy. Instead, some other emotion swirls inside him. He doesn’t know if it’s outrage at her defiance or surprise at her ability to abandon him like it’s nothing. For a moment he thinks maybe it’s even a smidgen of guilt at the way he’s been treating her, but he quickly decides that's not possible.

Maybe she has underestimated the dangers of the wilderness here, or maybe she’s just overestimated the kindness of the local mountain folks. Either way, he believes she can’t possibly be leaving for good. And he will make sure she regrets leaving in the first place when she finally comes home.

As Madison and Peaches crest over the hill heading east across the property, she allows herself a sigh of relief. Beginning to relax now that she knows Abner is not following her, she slips the pistol into her satchel. 

She’d paid little attention to the town on their way up to the house, and she curses herself for it. Several small never-traveled weed-infested dirt paths lead up to and around the mountainside where the steep property lies.

It is so unlike her to overlook things like direction and landmarks, especially since her father had instilled in her the importance of knowing where you are at all times. Those things become keenly important while out in the open woods.

Not knowing which way to head, Madison simply chooses to set out on the path to the east of their house, using the low evening light as a backdrop to her departure.