Iola picked the braided rope off the floor and added it to her pocket. Filmore
grabbed Olivia’s upper arm, yanked her to her feet, and shoved her toward the bed.
As they locked the door, Olivia heard Iola ask Filmore what he was doing
back so soon.
“Come for the money I owe him. Forgot to take it.”
“So sometimes having a dimwit for a husband can be a blessing in disguise,”
Iola muttered, her voice fading away.
Olivia put her face in her hands and sobbed until she was beyond exhaustion.
Then she lightly probed the top of her foot, wondering if Iola had broken any bones. It was extremely painful, but she could stand and put her weight on it.
She curled up on the bed, resigned, knowing there would be no escape. They
were going to keep her there for six more days. Six more times to submit to Filmore’s assault on her body. Her thoughts lingered on the head of that rusty nail. That was her only way out of here, to tear both wrists across it. It might hurt
terribly for a few minutes, but then consciousness would quietly drain away. It would be over. Nothing left to endure. But she knew she wouldn’t do that. She
had to find out what they’d done to poor Mourning. He might need her help.
She spread her hands over her stomach and prayed she was already pregnant
with his child. That would put her in a fix, but at least she would be able to love
the tiny new life growing inside her. Wouldn’t want to rip the monster child out.
Maybe she wasn’t being punished for lying down with Mourning – maybe it was
just the opposite. God had led Mourning and her to seek the comfort of one
another’s bodies that night in order to keep her safe. Mourning’s child was already nestled securely in her womb, protecting her from Filmore.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Later Iola returned with another meal. Olivia was on a chair, hugging her
knees to her chest. She smiled when she saw the left side of Iola’s face, swollen
and painted shades of blue and yellow. Iola set Olivia’s tray on the bed, picked
up a large wad of something wrapped in muslin, and held it out to Olivia.
“Put that on your foot. Keep the swelling down.”
Olivia ignored her.
“Up to you.” Iola shook her head. “But a nice poultice of stewed white beans
is the best thing for it.”
Olivia declined to take it from her, but raised her face to stare into Iola’s. “I
want to know what happened to Mourning. If you tell me where he is, I won’t
give you any more trouble. I promise.”
Iola replaced the poultice on the tray and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, I’m
not worried about that. You get to feeling like you’re dying again, you’re just going to have to go ahead and die.” Iola brought her face close to Olivia’s. “I even brought you a fork to eat your dinner with, I’m that sure of you behaving
yourself from now on. Because I’ve got a promise to make to you.” She leaned
in closer. “You try to get away again, you raise your hand to either of us, you know what’s going to happen to you? One of us will come into this barn alone,
but it won’t be me. I’ll help tie you up, but then I’ll leave Filmore with a bottle
of whiskey and tell him I have to go into town. He’ll have to manage on his own.
He’ll be free to do whatever he wants. Now I know you’re young, don’t have any idea of the kinds of disgusting things a man can want to do to a woman. Not
to mention what he’ll want you to do to him. You sure don’t want to find out, but
you will, you give me any more trouble. So you enjoy your dinner while you consider on that.” She turned and left.
