Free Crow Mountain by Lucy Inglis Page B

lucky.’ Your hand slipped behind my head as you offered the cup again. ‘Slowly.’
    I drank, pulling in cautious sips. As I did, I tried to look up, to see you, but all I saw was a dark head, a shirt that might have been blue once, now grey, with the sleeves rolled up over dirt-brown arms.
    You let my head go and it fell back on to the pillow, puffing up the smell of clean linen as the darkness claimed me again.
    When I came to, it was morning. My eyelids snapped up. The window was still open but there was an acrid smell in the fresh air. I wriggled, feeling wetness. Beneath me there was a towel and layers of linen on an oilcloth, all wet. Every nerve recoiled. My hands wouldn’t reach my face. I couldn’t call for you. Was there a woman who could help me? Did you have a wife or a sister? Where was I?
    Then you were there. I began to cry hot tears of humiliation. You rubbed a hand through your already tousled hair. ‘Had to happen sometime.’
    I cried harder. ‘Not to me.’
    â€˜We all think that. Until it does.’ For a few minutes, you disappeared and I lay, distressed at the idea you would leave me like this. Then you returned, the straps gave and you looped my arm over your neck before carrying me outside on to a porch. You dunked me in a wooden tub that stood to the right of the door. I cried out as I hit the cold water, and the white linen dress floated up in the narrow spaces around me.
    You straightened, watching me cower from you. ‘Ain’t gonna get clean sitting like that.’
    â€˜What about the others?’ I couldn’t be alone with you, surely?
    â€˜All dead. Just you left.’
    â€˜You killed that man, the teamster.’
    You ran your fingers down the edge of your jaw. ‘He was more broke than a body can take. Figured it was kinder than leaving him to drown.’
    â€˜But you shot him. Just like you shot the horse.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, I ain’t much for watching things suffer.’
    â€˜Would you have done that to me?’ My teeth were chattering with fear and cold.
    There was a silence. ‘Lucky for us, we didn’t have to decide.’ You went inside, leaving me sitting in the water, cold and terrified.
    The only sound was the birdsong and the wind. I looked down at myself. My underdress was not only soiled, it was filthy with perspiration and dirt. Leaves and mud clung to it in places. Disgusted, I pulled it over my head, wincing at the pain in my arms as I dropped it into a sopping pile on the planks.
    A moment later you returned, silent in your soft boots, with a bar of strong-smelling soap and a bottle of liquid, placing them on a stool by the tub. Surprised by your sudden appearance, I hugged myself away from you.
    â€˜There’s some fancy hair soap in that. Last tenants left it behind.’ With that, you disappeared again, just as quietly.
    I blinked, trying to focus. We were on the side of a mountain, grassy tufts rolling away from the front of the cabin down to a thick stand of trees. Beyond was a vast and sparkling lake. As far as I could see were only more rocks, trees and dramatic black and white-capped mountains. I was so far from anything I had ever known.
    Picking up the soap I began to wash, arms agony. Shuffling out of my drawers beneath the water, I hesitated, then dropped them on to the wet pile. My concepts of modesty were being abraded rapidly. Naked in the tub, my left thigh was one enormous bruise, black and yellowing. How long had it really been? You came back, clattering loudly by the doorway. I pulled my arms to my chest, crouching over my knees. Mama had told me many times that I should never let anyone see me naked.
    You hunkered down by the tub. Your untidy dark hair fell into your face and you hadn’t shaved for a few days. But your most remarkable feature was your clear, startling eyes of palest grey, almost silver. You reached over and picked up an enamel jug. ‘Eyes