-------------------------------------------------------
Amy’s Mother: Through the Dust we Find Hope
The
dust that rises from the slope is blinding.
It's so thick I don't see how the horses see the track in front of
them. We had to take the wagon up from
the town down below because the stage would have taken more time we didn’t have
to lose. I'm worn down and so is William
by the looks of him, but neither one of us has said a word about it. Every
second counts, I think as we head up the hill and my mind whirs with the
idea of what will await us. What kind of
place would trick a young girl to come to their door thinking she has a
legitimate job and then imprison her? My
guess is the people behind this aren’t god fearing. I can see the resolve that's settled into
William's eyes. He's a peaceful man at
his core. A man of God but what I see
awakening in his face is a rage I didn’t even know he was capable of possessing.
When
we arrive in town I'm shocked by the place.
Every surface: the ground, the houses, the wooden sidewalks is covered
in mud and oil. Men aren't shaven and by
the smell of it bathing isn't a common practice in Pithole. As soon as our feet touch the ground William
and I walk briskly to the post office to inquire where we might find the establishment
Amy had told us she was joining. Who
knows if those crooks were stupid enough to use the real name of their
establishment, but it's the one lead we've got so we've got to follow it.
The
post office is just a half block away and as we approach we see hundreds of
people lined up around it waiting. The line curls around the building like an
animal. What do you think all the fuss
is about? I ask William and he just
shrugs. When we get close, he asks a man
who is waiting online.
“Why
you just found yourself one of the busiest post offices in the nation!” he
announces in a loud, proud voice. We see
quickly that we aren’t going to make much headway here, so we walk to the first
intersection.
“If we
split up,” I say, “I’ll bet we can find the establishment in half a day.” I
say. But William frowns and says he
won’t allow it. It isn’t safe.
“There
are drunken men everywhere,” he says, “and what would you do if you found the
place?” I realize he is right but
hesitate before I agree. And so our
search of Pithole begins with the two of us walking the dusty planks side by
side, looking into the dusty plate glass windows, searching aimlessly for our
lost child.
It
takes us about two hours to find the Dewdrop
Inn, the address that Amy had placed on the letter she somehow sent. Funny thing is, it doesn’t even try to look
like an inn. It’s a three-story house,
with a wooden porch. We walk up to the
fogged glass door and knock. Quickly, a
man answers the door. He is commanding
in his height, with raven black hair.
“What
can I do for you folks,” he says, looking us over suspiciously.
“We
are looking for our daughter, Amy.” My
husband says, looking intensely at the man in the doorway.
Instantly,
a wave of knowledge passes through the man’s face, as if he has realized who we
are and why we’ve come to his establishment.
“Ain’t no new girls around here,” he says, looking my husband up and
down. “Looks like you got the wrong
house. Why don’t you two head on down
the road.”
Almost
immediately, William’s face become lit with the fire of his anger as he opens
his mouth and states his plain reply.
“We received a letter from our daughter Amy. She says, she’s locked here in the attic of
your establishment. We don’t mean you any harm.
We only want to gather our daughter who wishes to leave your
establishment. So, if you don’t mind,
I’d appreciate it if you’d step aside and let us pass.”
With
these words, I see a flash of recognition or surprise flash over the man’s
face. It doesn’t last long, and he’s
quick to correct it, but for one second I can see that what we’ve spoken is
truth. With that hope, I lose control of
myself and throw my whole weight against the door.
I
scream, “Amy, Amy? Are you in
there? We’re here darling! Come down and come away with us.”
The
man sees me lunge and quickly places his arm in my way. “You ain’t coming in,” he says with the whole mass of his
body. But I fight him hard. “Let me in!”
I scream. “I know she’s in
there. What kind of animal are you to
keep a young girl trapped in your attic?!”
He just grins a crooked
grin. That’s when I see the red marks
climbing his arms. They are fresh. I think, oh Lord, at least she’s fighting
back that means she’s alive.
William says loud and firm, “If
this is how you receive us, we will return with the law!”
“Ain’t
no law in this town,” the man laughs back.
“You even know where you are you dumb fucks? You in Pithole. Only law here is oil. Other than that, you on your own.”
And with that he slams the
door in our faces.
“No,” I scream, banging my arms
on the closed wood door, “No, Noooooooo!”.
William puts his arms around my sobbing shoulders and says softly in my
ear, “we should go. Don’t worry. We will find another way to get her out of
there. This isn’t over. I promise.”
But I
can’t move. It’s as if my legs have gone
wooden and grown into the very spot where I am standing. I’m not going. I’m not leaving until we get our daughter out
of here. Who knows what that beast of a
man will do once we leave this spot. I
sob, “he’s going to go up the stairs and beat her, or worse!”
“You’re
right,” he says and I see the truth of
my words register in his face. “We’ve got to go in.” Our eyes lock in agreement. I grab the handle and feel immediately that
it is locked. Before I can react, in one
swift move William kicks in the glass door, leans his arm in and undoes the
lock. When he pushes his whole weight
against the wooden door, we rush in.
The
man, who we realize has just been waiting for us to enter, is on us almost
immediately. He swings and punches
William hard in the face. Blood spurts
from his nose.
“I
said I didn’t want the likes of you around here,” he says taking another punch
this time at William’s kidneys. But he’s
half turned and engrossed in beating William and I see my chance. I run for the wooden stair case I see
directly in front of me, my heart pounding in my throat. My feet fly across the room, then up the
flight of stairs before the man notices me.
I look back relieved to see I’d slipped by, but just as I turn back
around I see her: a woman standing at
the top of the stairs in tall heeled boots, a bodice and a long velvet
skirt. She is smiling a wide, sick grin
and patting a shot gun that is lying gently across her arms.
“I
don’t think you are going anywhere Ma’am.
This is my house and I don’t take well to uninvited guests.” With these words she grabs me hard by the arm
and with one swift kick sends me tumbling down the stairs.
When I
gather my senses at the bottom of the stairs I see the large man looking down
at me. “I see you’ve met the lady of the
house,” he says kicking me swiftly in
the ribs. “NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!”
I am
trembling with fear and then I see William, covered in blood. “Oh what monsters have our child?” I think.
There is nothing left to do but to try and stand, to gather William up
and shuffle out the door. We are beaten. We cannot get Amy out alone. “We must find help. We must find help.” I whisper again and again to myself as we are
pushed out the door by our laughing assailants.
“And don’t come back!” They shout at our
swooped forms as we shuffle away from the house bloody and defeated.
No comments:
Post a Comment