Free Froelich's Ladder by Jamie Duclos-Yourdon Page B

still sprawled upon a bed of letters, was able to rouse herself and join him.
    “Sure you did,” Gordy equivocated. “I remember you saying so—and I couldn’t be more sorry if I tried.”
    “Now I’ve got to hurt you.”
    “What?” Gak said. “The heck you do!”
    But the man only rolled up his sleeves, narrowing his too-close eyes in concentration. “It’s the only way to learn you.”
    “Friend, I respectfully disagree.” Licking his lips, Gordy waited for the driver to face him. “If you want to teach us a lesson, then make us fix our mistake. Otherwise, who’s gonna collect all this mail—you? That doesn’t seem right, does it? Make my friend here clean it up. She’s been dropping parcels ever since the Myers & Co. Store—”
    “Hey!”
    “—and I’m sure she’d like to make amends. After that, we can go by foot the rest of the way. Okay? It’s not a lesson we’ll soon forget. And a lesson learned is—”
    “Wait,” the driver scowled, turning to Gak. “You’re saying that’s a girl ?”
    In that moment, everything changed. Gordy’s thoughtless slip of the tongue had skewed the dynamic. It was now altogether less likely that Gak would be whipped, punishment only meted out to a boy. And yet, the potential for harm had become even greater. In revealing her gender, Gordy had also revealed Gak’s weakness.
    “Of course I’m a girl!” she snapped, trying to maintain her rugged demeanor. “What, you never seen one before?”
    But the driver didn’t answer her. Instead, he was openly leering at her chest.
    “All right,” he said. “How about this, then—I get a turn with her, and we can call it even?”
    Sneaking a glance at Gak, Gordy cleared his throat. “Say again, friend?”
    “We both call it even—no harm done for the mess you made. And I get a minute to rut.”
    “The heck you do,” Gak snorted, turning to leave; careful not to stumble or panic, nor waiting to hear Gordy’s response.
    Unfortunately, in turning to her left, she walked directly into the driver’s fist. His right hook collided with her cheekbone and rattled her brain inside her skull. The next thing she knew, she was horizontal on the dirt track, pinholes of light flickering in her vision.
    “What’s it gonna be?” the driver said to Gordy. “I don’t need permission. I’m just being decent, since she’s your freight.”
    Gak spat out a surprising amount of blood. She couldn’t run: even if she were able to keep her balance, her thoughts would be too muddy to navigate. She could cause the driver some damage if he came close enough, gouging out an eye or gnawing on an ear, though it might worsen her situation. Gordy stood a chance, she thought, while attempting to raise herself on hands and knees. She doubted he was big enough or strong enough to stop the driver, but he was decent enough to try.
    So it pained her when he said, “Me first, then. Like you said, she’s my freight.”
    There came a dreadful noise, like an animal suffering under a heavy yoke, which Gak knew to be her doing. She started to crawl, even while a tiny voice urged her to hush now, be still.
    “You first?” the driver echoed. She couldn’t bear to listen to their deliberation. She wished she could plug her ears, or turn herself into stone.
    “No, you’re right—you. I don’t like to be watched.”
    “Me?”
    “Yeah, you,” Gordy sighed. “You first, then me.”
    A foot against her backside tipped her over. Hiding her face in her elbow, Gak attempted to block out the sun.
    “Wait—no. Me.”
    “Me?” the driver roared, turning halfway around. In silhouette, he was clumsily fumbling with his pants. “Make up your d—ned mind!”
    “No, you’re right, you,” Gordy said, bobbing his head and taking a step in retreat. “I’m sorry. You go right ahead. I’ll just pick up some mail, why don’t I?”
    “Do or don’t,” the driver growled, “I hardly care. But shut your mouth for a d—ned minute.”
    In