No matter how hard Leslie tried her mind wouldn't allow her the pleasure of sleep.
She sat dazed, staring at the bed, watching for the faintess movement; boot ready to bring about the end for any creature fixing to use her brother as a midnight snack...though it never came again.
The smell of the dead rat must've kept them away, or so she imagined. Why else had they gone? Rats were relentless afterall; waiting like roaches in the dark to strike when the light in the room settled and stir of sounds silenced. Yet still she waited. Worried for what may come next—
Three taps on the door nearly had her reach for the revolver on her hip. She eyed the door, lip sunken.
Who'd come at this hour? Leslie wondered. Boris and Barrot came when first they heard of Rynan's fate, comforting her with food and words of hope, and visiting each morning thereafter to see of his little improvements. And then there was Jack who talked nothing of marriage or the ranch, which she appreciated; only there to hold her while she wept and whispered words that'd ease her soul. He always knew how to do that...Keep her from hating herself for the things she couldn't control.
But the one person she yearned for...the one person who made everything better by just being present hadn't come. Hadn't brought her hope or warmed her soul, or been there as she thought he would or should. Sure, he was never the most comforting man, but before the colosseum's she could sense and see the change in him; see the man he was becoming.
The others knew not to come in the dead of night, to allow her brother rest, yet he did not know such thing, nor would be stopped even if she insisted.
"Jostice," she whispered, rising from her seat. A smile working over her lips.
It took three steps to reach the door and once there she hesitated. Her hand felt the icy sting of the revolver steel. Eyes widened.
What if they've come to finish the job? The words were so strong in her mind she'd forgotten of the stink and the dead rat that twitched on the floor. "The Yurks had attacked them for a reason."
Leslie spun against the wall, yanking her revolver to her chest. Eyes narrowing. She grabbed the door knob and whispered, "who is it?" The revolver hammer cocked.
A muffled, deep and harsh sound made her tremble only for a moment. "You going to let me in or not, darlin'?"
"Kenneth?" The was no mistaken that voice.
Last Lealie heard he'd stayed behind in Lone Creek to help investigate a brawl at Baxters; he'd been at the bar all night and just thirty minutes after he'd gone there came a scuffle.
She cracked the door open finding the tall mans broad smile and stone eyes gleaming back.
"Why've you come at this hour?"
"I got back into town when I was told what had happened...wanted to come see how you all were doing."
Leslie raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "You're not a man known to worry for others…"
He laughed, "guess that trip changed me some — just call me a new man."
Leslie hesitated. The door creaked and swung open as she holstered her gun, eyeing him like bear protecting her cub.
"I appreciate you coming." She managed the words though they felt awkward off her tongue.
Leslie lit a candle by the bed while Kenneth crept through the door still wearing his tan coat, trousers, and hat she'd last seen him wearing while the smell of afternoon liquor and yesterdays stink clung to him like perfume.
The spurs on his boot rattled until he stopped over the bed, peering down at Rynan. He watched him with new interest; almost studying him.
"Damn shame what's happened to him...And you for that matter."
"Thank you—"
"But I'm afraid he's brought it onto himself."
Leslie felt gutted. She railed back to the wall allowing her anger to brood. "Why would you say such words? You're as heartless as a rat — get out!"
Kenneth raised a finger. "That maybe, darlin'... but it still doesn't change the fact." His eyes shifted towards the boys pocket, "may I?"
Before she could find her voice and her courage, the graying man shoved a hand in Rynan's pocket withdrawing an odd shape of metal.
Kenneth shook his head, "just as I feared…" He held it out for the light to touch and her eyes to see.
"What is that...a lock?" Leslie stammered.
"You're damn certain." Kenneth dropped it in her hand. "You brother was responsible for freeing a bear at Baxtersz causing the death of two men."
The lock clanked against the ground while Leslie hand found her mouth.
The deputies eyes found the lock and the dead rodent. He stepped to the side, avoiding the carcass.
"Now I know what stinks…" He chuckled.
"Rynan couldn't...I mean he wouldn't...You know my brother, he's as gentle as a dog. He would never do such a thing—"
"Gentle," Kenneth nodded, "Yes. I didn't say he wasn't. What I did say was that he freed a bear that killed two men, making him responsible for their death.
Leslie gasped.
"And by the looks of it, Baxter was the one who sent them Yurks after the train. He wanted your brother dead...looks like what he did was much worse." He rubbed his graying hair. "I know this Alchme — decayers are a slow and sickening way to go — even for the most deserving...but he won't have to worry about that."
Leslie teeth clenched. "What do you mean?"
"Once I tell the Mayor what had happened it'll mean the noose for your brother."
"You wouldn't…"
Leslie saw his eyes walk slowly down her body, pupils growing. The sickening look that men with sickening thoughts wore. His grin broadened.
"Well, no...Not if you had something better to offer." His eyes trembled in his head. "And I see that you do—"
"Stop it!" Her voice rang. "Can't you see I'm in no mood for your words…Get out!"
"What I see," Kenneth took a step closer, "is a woman who has no other option…" He took two steps closer and she could smell the stink on his breath. "If you don't satisfy my needs your brother will meet my sister."
Leslie had met Janey 'the Hang Girl' Cornfeld; a wretched woman who got pleasure at the pull of a lever and the snap of a neck. Leslie eyes drained.
Kenneth stopped a foot away, looming over, eyes black with lust. He reached out a hand; Leslie neck jerked as he tugged at the knot.
"Let's see what you've been hiding…"
There was a numbness in her body that drew the warmth from her flesh; a fear lost since she was a child; the screams of her past echoed in her head.
Please… The word did not leave her tongue.
Kenneth tugged harder, "you've got this on tight," his voice rang like an aroused beast. "Why go through the trouble?"
Again you fought to speak but it was as though her mouth was full of cotton.
Please…
"Don't worry...I can't promise it'll be over quick... Just try to relax and enjoy yourself."
He tugged once more. Leslie's head pinned to the wall while Kenneth's dry, torn lips pressed against her soft, wet ones.
A tear fell from her face. Dark images came to her mind: hot flesh, drunken breath, and pain.
"Stop!"
Leslie bit down and tugged, tearing into the dry flesh. Blood sprayed and the man groaned, back peddling into the wall. He slammed knocking the candle down.
Leslie hands shook, reaching for the pistol. It'll only take one to keep the man from his pursuit. She drew the barrel from the holster.
"Bitch!" He flung his arm from his hip across his body and smacked her cheek. She thudded to the ground, wincing, gun disappearing into the shadows. Kenneth wiped the blood then loosened his buckle. "For too long I've had to hear your mockery...now I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget."
Leslie's eyes found the ceiling spinning like a wagon wheel.
Kenneth fell to his knees, breathing heavy as an ox.
Leslie gasped. The mans weight drew the breath from her lungs. She tried to breath...nothing as he crept up her body, bringing his face over hers. The shadows distorted the man she knew, twisting his appearance into a dark, ghastly figure. He laughed and mumbled words that muffled in her ears.
"No!" She cried, in a tone that nearly cracked glass.
Kenneth laughed again as his breath touched her right ear, "Don't fight it," Kenneth said. "Hell...You might actually enjoy yourself—"
Suddenly Leslie could breath and the mans weight was uplifted. She shifted her eyes downward towards the sound of low gurgles; shadowed legs danged and kicked the air until a snap broke the silence, and a body hit the floor, sending ripples in the floorboard.