Sweat beads formed, sticking my curly locks stick to my brow. I moved away from the old man, but my brain hung on his words. Redemption?… Vengeance?… Justice?… What else do I have left?
“Where did you go?” Henry swung a musty arm around my shoulder.
My fists tightened. His stench leeched into my clothes. My mind hadn’t decided what I would do with the map or the notebook, or any of it. My emotions were dead set on anger. Henry was the just the man to make it surface. “Nowhere,” I wiggled out of his arm, but his squinty eyes followed me to the circular table that held the loudest bunch. “Another round!” Someone yelled.
I waited until I was out of Henry’s sight and headed for the privy. Wet grass swept over my feet. The smokey alcohol stench driven away by the wind now replaced with excrement.
“Heading out so soon?”
Damn, he followed me. “Early night for an early morning.” The sun was almost to bed. I looked back at him, and the glow highlighted the fury in his eyes and the yellow in his teeth.
“You owe me.” His words shot daggers into my back. “And I’m collecting.”
Yesterday, that threat might have motivated me to do something stupid. Today, it provided clarity. That old man’s map with the British royal seal on it. Heck that seal would do most of the talking – or convincing rather – that something really could be at that colony. The letter wasn’t really legible, so it couldn’t speak against it. Treasure. There, I said it. Maybe I should put an ‘X’ on it. That would be a mistake, not that this browbeat would be smart enough to catch it. I hated the thought of him coming with me, but I recognized the net I was caught in.
“I’m giving notice and taking a wagonette here.” I pulled out the map and showed it to him, with the seal facing up. I wasn’t sure I would go through with it until the words tumbled from my lips. I silently prayed, or willed my uncle to still have his boat.
“Gonna keep this to yourself?” He grabbed for it, but I held on tight. My right ear heard the rip, like my brain ripped open and raw emotion spilled out. I swung that fist I held since Henry found me. “That was my map!” I swung again. I didn’t care that he blocked it. I didn’t care that fifty feet away an entire tavern was one thread away from an all-out bawl that could put me under.
“You don’t want me to collect like this,” he shoved me off of him. “I will steal every last tooth in your head.”
That explains his mismatched set. I drew some deep breaths and blew them out. “Give me my map,” I held my hand out.
He smacked it away. “I’m not giving up my insurance.”
“He gave me the map, said there was treasure there, but when he got there everything was gone. I don’t know if there’s any validity to it. Are you really going to waste your time on a burnt city?” How could I avoid killing him for however long it took us to get there? This map held more power than I gave it credit for. It pushed me to leave early and bring my enemy with me. Maybe something would be worth the move after all.
I told Henry where to meet me at sunrise, but he insisted on sleeping next to my bunk. I guess half of the map wasn’t assurance enough. He’d be right. The image of that old man’s thick finger drawing a line burned into my brain. I didn’t need the other half, but even if I did, I didn’t care if it meant losing Henry forever. Could I really let life changing treasure slip through my fingers and into this imbeciles?
The moon was full and bright. Henry’s soft snores from across the room kept me awake. The fool is helping me execute my plan. I packed up my few belongings quickly and headed to the wagonette. Horses’ neighs felt heavy and I wondered if they were as exhausted as I am. Still, I patted them on their sides and slipped them a snack from the bin as I shooshed them. Never have I stolen anything until today. My hands shook as I secured my trunk in the back and readied the horses. Could they feel my fear?
The barn’s creaking door sent chills up my spine. I almost got away. I cursed myself. Or maybe I was already cursed. If one could betray themselves, it would be by sitting next to Henry and his day-old whiskey breath. A little talcum powder would be miraculous. He slapped me on the back hard as he laughed. A sting that would last several minutes. “Let’s go get some treasure!”
All the colonies we passed through, and nothing other than weather slowed our horses. His suspicion never wavered. Always making me drive while he kept an eye on me, sharing a room when we stopped. It was exhausting. Henry was in an uncommon silence. I took advantage and pulled over, ready to tie up the horses.
“What are you up to?” His voice thinly veiling a sneer.
“I need a privy-”
“Oh no you don’t. You get out and tie up those horses. I’m going with you.”
“Or better still, give them to me.” A deep voice I had never heard before spoke quietly, and yet it made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. Fear coursed through my veins, preventing my foot from touching the ground. Henry was already on the ground, now looking in the direction of the voice.
Two men flanked the boss on either side, all gripping holstered pistols. Stealing stolen horses. I suppose I should be grateful to have made it this far before paying penance. My map! It resided in my trunk. I can’t think of a reason why they would let me keep my belongings.
“Don’t you move a muscle,” Henry growled and stepped toward them. The boss pulled out his pistol and looked both ways before focusing on Henry.
“Maybe the gravity of the situation is lost on you, but unless you want to be my shield, I’m doing what he says.” I stretched out my hand with the rope, when the horses bucked, running over the two men on the right. The boss aims and fires, spooking the horses. They turn to run, jarring the wagonette and knocking the pistol out of his hand. I reached out for Henry’s arm, and he clutches it, dragging his feet as he can’t match pace with the horses. The wagon is bouncing back and forth, tossing me around like popped corn. The rope is running through my hand, burning, but I refuse to let go.
I pull Henry up and inside the wagon, dropping him immediately for the rope. The horses run rampant, throwing us both around inside. Henry grabs the rope with one hand and pulls with me. “Whoa, whoa, easy now.” We both shout at the horses.
When the horses finally slow, I look around and realize I don’t know what direction they’ve taken us in. My ribs, hands and arms are throbbing. “We need to stop for the night,” I say out of breath.
“We need to get father away first.” He winces. I noticed blood down his sleeve and onto the floor of the wagon.
“Well I’d say your days of collecting from me are over. Paid in full.”
“Why did you help me?” He looked over at me, but quickly focused back on the horses.
I missed my opportunity to be rid of him. I didn’t know what to tell him. Was it because he saved us and the wagon? Or maybe because I just couldn’t leave him there? Or because I wanted the map’s other half. I don’t know. I didn’t have time to think, I just did it.
“We need to be careful where we stop. We don’t want to attract attention.” I was glad he took the reins and prayed he knew which way we were going.
I woke up still in the wagon. He had stopped and gotten sewn up and replaced his shirt. Every muscle screamed as I stretched first my arms then my back.
“We’re on the edge of the map.” Henry said.
“What? But that’s impossible! How long was I out?”
“With the help of some sedatives… a long time.” His crooked smile was back. This time it was almost reassuring.
I punched him in his good arm to avoid letting him see that I wasn’t angry with him.
“Not my good arm. I did save your life and-” he stopped. His posture erect, eyes panning the land ahead of us. Panic radiated from him.
I strained to sit up.
“Shhh,” he silenced my groaning. “Do you hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything.” I whispered.
“Maybe his map was right.”
“Come on, that map is old.” I straighten up in my seat now too. He was right. Nothing. No sounds of people, animals, or life. Homes were destroyed, fields overgrown. “Wait stop. What’s that?” I slowly stepped out of the wagon. Fire shooting through my muscles with every step. I walked through a broken fence, stopping at a tree. A word carved in it like a caveman.
“What does it say?”
“CRO.”
“Look down there, there’s something on that post. What’s that say?” He pointed to something too far away for me to read.
“Can’t you read it?” I walked over, slowly, trying to cover my limp.
He hung his head for a moment. What was he ashamed of? “I can’t read.” He said quietly.
“Oh,” I felt bad for prying. I never thought I’d feel bad about anything for Henry. “It says, ‘CROATOAN’.”
📸 Photo by Uwe Conrad on Unsplash
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