Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Two

Ance lifted up the lid and his blue eyes widened at the sight he was met with. 

Brown eyes, wide with fear, stared up at him from a pale, freckled face. Tears had left streaks down dirty cheeks and a dirty white cloth was tied tight over the mouth to ensure the so-called critter didn’t scream. 

“Barnaby, that’s a goddamn little girl,” Ance stated. The girl’s blond hair was a tangled mess and hair stuck out of her braids at all angles. 

“The Indian’s like ones like her. I got her at a steal too! Apparently her mama wants her a new life with a new man without the memories of the old life hanging around.” 

Ance bristled. 

Women were monsters. 

His mother had been a monster and this little girl’s mother was apparently cut from the same damn cloth. 

The girl couldn’t be more than six or seven. She was all cramped up in that crate. She had a metal brace on one leg and it was clear to see that her bones were crooked and deformed. Her hair was limp and wet with sweat around her face and Ance shook his head. “Don’t you think you should get her out of there and give her food and water?” 

“Why do you care?” Barnaby laughed. “I didn’t think you’d care one way or the other.” 

“I don’t,” Ance shrugged and closed the crate lid, happy to no longer have those brown eyes staring up at him so imploringly. “But the Indian’s probably won’t pay as much if she’s dead.” 

With that Ance walked away and settled himself back beneath the trees. A few moments later he saw Barnaby open the crate once again and he pulled off the girl’s gag to give her water and a biscuit. 

“Let me go home!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and weak. “I want my mama!” 

A sharp smack filled the air as Barnaby struck the girl. Ance felt his blood heat. “Your mama don’t want a crippled little brat anymore, girl! That’s why you’re with me,” Barnaby laughed. Ance’s blood damn near began to boil. 

It surprised him. He shouldn’t give a damn about some girl in a crate. Bad things happened every single day and everyone went through tragedies. Why should she be any different?

“My mama loves me….” she whimpered. 

“She’s not here, is she? She’s not saving you” Barnaby taunted. “Now shut up and I’ll leave the crate open so you can have some air while we travel.” 

Ance saw Barnaby replace the gag on the girls mouth and suddenly her brown eyes found him again. Their gazes locked for several long moments before Ance broke the contact and relit his cigar. 

The Indians would like her. They would like her blond hair and her freckles. They would like the fact that she had a crippled leg because it would mean she couldn’t run away from them. They would use her up until there wasn’t anything left of her. 

Ance shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t give two hoots in hell. 

So why was he already contemplating exactly how he was going to get her out of that crate and away from Barnaby?

***

“I need you to guard the critter tonight,” Barnaby said as he approached Ance after the group had stopped for the night. 

“I’m not a guard dog,” Ance countered, not wanting anything to do with that girl. What happened to her was no concern of his. Besides she belonged to Barnaby and to steal from Barnaby Wallace was to sign your death warrant--Ance didn’t want to die that badly. 

Barnaby laughed, “Yes, but you’re the grumpiest dog in my kennel!” Ance raised a brow simply chewed on his cigar as he studied the man. Barnaby sighed. “I’ll add fifty dollars to your pay if you’ll simply sleep by the crate and stop anyone from taking her or her from getting out.” 

“She’s tied up ain’t she?” Ance grumbled. 

“Yes, but I don’t want to take any chances. She’s my bread and butter this trip.” 

“You’ve got ten other men, get them to watch her. Or better yet ,you watch her yourself.” 

Barnaby’s blue eyes narrowed slightly, “Now, Ance, I like you. Let’s not have that change.” 

“Barnaby, I really don’t give a damn what you think of me,” Ance replied honestly.

The two men stared each other down and it was Barnaby who broke first. “Fine, I’ll get Vern to watch her. Can’t believe you’d pass up an easy chance at fifty dollars.” 

“I ain’t too keen on playing nanny,” Ance stated. “Not even for fifty dollars.” 

Barnaby laughed and slapped him on the back. “I guess I should have expected as much!” he said good naturedly and then he walked away to tell Vern about this newest duty. 

Ance settled himself down beneath an oak and pulled out a tin of cookies he’d swiped from a windowsill a couple of days before. He felt eyes on him and his gaze went to the wagon to find that the little girl was once again staring at him. Her brown eyes seemed hungry as she looked down at the cookie in his hand. 

With a grumble and a heaving sigh, Ance stood and walked to her. She curled up as small as she could in that crate and stared up at him fearfully. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, dammit. I ain’t that type of man,” Ance assured her. 

He reached out and pulled her gag down. She opened her mouth to speak but Ance quickly shoved a chunk of the cookie into her mouth before she could get a word out. She chewed it eagerly and swallowed it down and Ance quickly replaced it with yet another chunk. Once that bit was down he put his canteen to her lips and let her take several good swallows of water. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

Ance snarled and shoved the gag back into her mouth before striding away and settling himself once again beneath the tree. He truly didn’t give a shit about the little girl--he just hated to see anyone die of thirst or hunger.