Survivors Guilt, Stockholm Syndrome, Suppressed rage, and literally a host of other diagnosable conditions. I’m no psychoanalyst but I’d been sent to enough of them after the war to have a base understanding. I knew I hadn’t heard the worst of it yet and I delved into the bourbon a little bit more.

“Mary”

No response just crying.

“Mary!”, I commanded and she looked at me earning me scowls from both Mouse and Banshee.

“It’s time to talk Mary and I want the truth.” I wanted to finish this part tonight if I could but this woman really need a hospital and extended counseling. The problem was we still had days of travel ahead of us before we could begin the slow healing process.

Mary slowly nodded, sobbing all the while.

I handed her my cup and she took another sip of bourbon, the burn seemed to help her stabilize a little.

“Where did you learn to weave Mary?” Let’s tease the door open and see if we can pull the story out.

“My mother taught all of us to weave, it’s how we made money to help the family.”

A start, good let’s get her talking freely.

“Your mother?”

“Momma was a good weaver and I learned, I can make you a basket tomorrow!”

“I’d really like that Mary, will you come home and make baskets for me? We need help and we need you.”

“Home?”, she asked.

“Of course”, I answered, “I have a nice home down south a little bit with lots of nice people. We want you to come stay with us.”

“I’d like to have a home again.” She said and started crying hard again.

Fucked that up a little, Mouse scowled at me to confirm my thoughts. Push on.

“Please Mary, come stay with us and that will be your new home. Mouse will be there and so will Banshee.”

She smiled up at Mouse and said, “I think I’d like that.” Mouse continued to comfort her and hum softly.

“Mary, why did you have to leave home?” Now I was probing.

More intense sobbing with a scowl from Mouse and a poke in the back from Banshee, right in the sore wound spot. Thin ice ahead.

“Mary, I asked you a question”

“Because of the lake”, she wailed, “I hate that damn lake.”

Fuck me.

“What happened at the lake Mary?”

“I….I got with child….preacher man….papa angry….married….had to leave.” Came out in a jumbled sobbing mess. What a fucking mess.

“You had sex with the preacher?” I asked, I really couldn’t afford to mince words if we were going to get through this. “Mary, let’s just talk about it all one time. You have to tell me because you belong to me.”

Yeah I’ve always been an asshole.

“Papa was going to kill him but the Deacons wouldn’t let him” a moment of fierce pride.

“Kill him?”

“I didn’t want to do that, he held me down and made me. My sisters found me cuz I couldn’t go home.

“Mama found out cuz my mean sister Sarah started telling everyone and Papa got mad.

“Sarah got an awful whipping from Mama, Daddy wanted to beat her.

“After what Sarah had said nobody believed me that the preacher had made me, they said it was my fault for being too friendly. But he was the preacher why wouldn’t I be nice to him?”

She was rolling now and I just let her go on.

“We had to be married and we had to leave town cuz mama and papa where kicking up such a fuss. Papa had friends and they were fixin to hang the preacher but everyone else thought it was my fault.

“It must have been my fault. He read to me from the bible every night after we left and the bible always said it was me that was evil. He was right of course it was my fault and now he was forced to take care of me for my wicked ways. He punished me every night for my wicked ways and did that with me again because I tempted him again.

“But then Baby Ruth Ann came and I was happy. She was so beautiful. But he started drinking more and nobody wanted to hear his preaching so me and Ruth Ann had to beg people for money. He would punish me more if I didn’t get enough.”

She stopped there. Hell I’d heard enough already to want to castrate the fucker and force him to eat his own balls. Mouse had quietly kept up a running translation for Banshee and both of the women had scary Matilda like looks on their faces. I gave Mary another sip of bourbon.

She started again without prompting.

“Baby Ruth Ann got sick and wouldn’t stop crying. I tried but I couldn’t get her to stop, I wasn’t a good mama like mine was.

“He got angry and shook her to make her stop and she died of sickness that night. I tried to cry but he punished me for being a bad mama. I killed my sweet Baby Ruth Ann.”

Complete breakdown and mayhem from that point. Mary was keening again and the two girls had her wrapped up in their arms rocking her back and forth. Brin was whining and trying to comfort her himself. I was fighting off rage nausea.

The girls laid her down on the blanket cocooned her between them, the last thing I heard before she collapsed into sleep was her weakly saying, “Baby Ruth Ann didn’t get no marker, I don’t know where she is…”

Well fuck me and kill somebody slowly, if that wasn’t enough to destroy a person completely I already basically knew that story that came after. Mary would never be completely whole again but she could be sheltered into a semi-normal existence. Me, I need to find a certain home town and fix up some Deacons.

I sat, fumed and brooded until Mouse came and took me to bed with them.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night.