things to do in the kitchen right now.”
She moved forward with confidence, hoping he would withdraw
from the doorway and allow her to pass, but he didn’t move a muscle.
She turned and looked out the window. There were no other vehicles in
sight. Where was his wife? Who would hear her if she screamed?
“How about you try it on right now . . . while I wait.”
“I’ve got another errand to run first,” she lied. “I just realized I for-
got something at the grocery store.”
“It can wait,” he said, as he closed the door behind him and flipped
the deadbolt.
Becky began to retreat, knowing there was nowhere to go in the
small apartment. Angus unbuckled his belt and began to unzip his pants.
She looked around for a weapon, anything she could use to protect
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herself, but the bare apartment yielded nothing useful. Becky’s knees almost buckled.
“No,” she begged. “I’ll do anything you want,” she said. “But not
this.”
Suddenly he pushed her on the bed and pinned her arms above
her head. His hairy chest and arms felt like oily rubber. He wiped his
sweaty nose against her cheek, and she tried to pull away. His foul body
odor and kerosene- smelling breath made her gag. “No!” She screamed
as loud as she could. Kicking and clawing with all of her strength, she
struck a blow to his crotch with her knee and bit hard on his forearm.
“Ouch,” he yelled. “You bit me.”
He picked her up and slammed her head against the headboard.
Then everything faded to black.
★
When Becky came to, it took her a minute to remember where she was
in the dark room. Her head hurt. She touched the back of her head and
discovered a tender bump and then remembered being thrown against
the headboard. Her body hurt all over and her mind raced. Then the
sudden memory of what had happened and the realization that she’d
been raped rushed over her like a tsunami, sucking the air out of her
lungs and crashing down on her heart and soul.
She moved as quickly as she could, throwing the maid’s outfit on
the floor in disgust. She caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror
hanging on the wall, and turned away as silent tears blurred her vision
and streamed down her face.
Angus. Where was he? How long had she been out? She could see
the lights on in the main house, but it was too dark to see any vehicles.
She quickly pulled on her jeans and torn tee shirt. She had to get away
from this place as fast as she could before he came back.
Blindly, she grabbed her purse and fled the tiny apartment, unwill-
ing to stop and think who might be nearby to stand in her way. She
jumped into the safety of her car and locked the doors. Thankfully, the
engine roared to life when she turned the key in the ignition. Gravel
scattered against the side of the bunkhouse as the tires spun and she flew toward the main road. She glanced in her rearview mirror, and seeing
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no lights behind her, she breezed out the entrance to the Buffalo Ranch and into the night.
Her headlights illuminated the road, but her path blurred as tears
continued to spill onto her face. What was it with her? How could she
put herself in such a vulnerable situation again? Her father had warned
her about Angus, but she’d ignored him. Her bullheadedness could have
gotten her killed.
A deer standing next to the road caused Becky to slam on her
brakes. Her car skidded sideways and came to a stop before sliding into
the ditch. She burst into tears. Where was she going? She couldn’t go
home; she could never tell her father what had happened. He didn’t even
know about the horrible incident in California, how a drug- crazed crim-
inal had violently raped her at knifepoint as revenge for the discovery of her husband’s undercover job. Now it had happened again. How could
she tell her father and bring dishonor to him and the Chuculate name?
Her life was falling apart.
She sat in silence for several minutes, assessing her situation. Angus
obviously wasn’t pursuing her or he would have already overtaken her
and her old jalopy. She involuntarily glanced in the rearview mirror. He
was so arrogant he had probably already written her off. In fact, he most likely thought she was still there in the bunkhouse cooking up fake buffalo chili.
She lifted her foot from the brake pedal and coaxed the car forward.
Before long, a red mailbox with no name appeared on the left side of the
road. She punched the accelerator and drove a short distance to the next
mailbox— S Walela.
Sadie’s words from the grocery store came to her . . . white house . . .
north side of the road . . . stop by anytime.
She stopped and stared at the well- lit farmhouse and barn that sat
off the road to the left, with a paint horse and a goat standing in the
pasture. Then she nosed her car onto the lane that led to Sadie’s house.
As she approached the house, Becky’s car slowed to a creep. She
recognized Sadie’s car, and assumed the old blue farm truck sitting in
knee- high weeds probably belonged to Sadie, too. She let her car roll to a stop behind Sadie’s Explorer and, as was the custom, sat and waited,
exposed by the illumination of a strategically placed pole light.
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The back door opened and the biggest dog she’d ever seen came near her car, sat on his haunches, and silently stared at her. She could see Sadie standing in the doorway.
Becky lowered her window. “Sadie, it’s Becky Chuculate. Please
help me.”
The dog disappeared and Becky opened the car door. As she tried
to stand, a pain as sharp as a knife buried itself inside her. She could see Sadie rushing toward her as once again blackness enveloped her.
★
Sadie saw pain cross Becky’s face and watched her legs move restlessly
under the white hospital sheets as if she were trying to escape a bad
dream. When Becky finally opened her eyes, Sadie could see confusion
on her face. She stood where Becky could see her more easily.
“It’s okay,” Sadie said.
When Becky raised her arm and saw the IV attached to the top of
her hand, the confusion in her eyes transformed into fear. “Where am I?”
“Sycamore Springs General Hospital. They got your appendix just
in time. It was about to burst.”
“My appendix?” Becky looked around the room and blinked her
eyes as if trying to bring everything into focus. “Thanks, Sadie. I don’t even know how I found you,” she said. “It’s like your mailbox came out
of the night and beckoned. I didn’t know what to do.”
Lance walked into the room. “How’d you get in here, Sadie?” he
said.
Sadie smiled. “I lied and told them I was her sister.”
Lance chuckled and stood beside Sadie.
“What happened to you, Becky?” Sadie said. “The doctors say you
might’ve been roughed up. They have to report that kind of thing, you
know.”
Becky raised her eyes and stared at Lance, as if afraid to speak.
“It’s okay,” Sadie said. “This is Lance Smith. He’s a good friend. He
can help yo
u. He’s the deputy sheriff.”
“No,” Becky said, sounding alarmed. “I don’t want the police
involved.”
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“It’s okay,” Lance spoke up. “We just want to help you. Who did this to you?”
Becky fingered the plastic spoon in the Styrofoam cup of ice chips
on her bedside stand. She raised her hand to her face and felt a bandage
above her eye, and touched the bump on the back of her head again. She
was afraid to think how bad she must look.
“I need to find someplace to stay,” Becky said.
“Don’t worry about that,” Sadie said. “We’ll either find you a place
or you can stay with me until you’ve healed.”
Lance spoke again. “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t want to file any charges. I just want it to go away. I’ve been
raped before.”
“Raped?” Sadie exclaimed. “Is that why you told me not to call your
father on the way to the hospital? Did your father rape you?”
“No, no, no. My father knows nothing about what happened. But I
can’t let him see me like this and I can’t go back to California. My home there is gone. I have nowhere to go.”
“I thought you were staying at the Buffalo— ” Sadie stopped mid-
sentence and let out a long breath. “Damn it,” she said. “That buzzard
Angus Clyborn did this to you, didn’t he?”
Becky covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
A young woman doctor walked into the room with a clipboard
in her hand. She acknowledged Sadie and Lance with a nod and ap-
proached Becky. “Are you in pain?” she asked as she felt Becky’s wrist
for her pulse.
“I’m okay,” she said, wiping her face with the edge of the sheet.
“When can I get out of here?”
“Probably tomorrow,” she said, “if you promise to take it easy and
not lift anything that weighs more than a couple of pounds.” The doctor
nodded toward Sadie with knowing eyes, “And your sister will promise
to take care of you.”
Sadie glanced down when she realized her lie had been found out.
Lance stepped forward. “Doctor, can you perform an examination
to confirm if she’s been raped or not?”
The doctor looked toward Becky with concern, as a tear fell off
Becky’s cheek. “Yes, but she will have to sign a consent form.” The
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doctor looked sympathetically at Becky and rubbed her arm. “Do you want to do that, honey?”
Becky pulled her arm away. “What’s the point?” she said. “It won’t
make any difference.”
“Yes, it will.” Lance spoke in a soft, comforting tone. “If you don’t
take the rape test, there will be no evidence in case you want to file
charges later. Everything will be kept confidential. No one will know
except the doctor and us.”
“I was married to a cop,” Becky blurted. “I know how word gets out.”
“No, Becky, that won’t happen here.” Sadie stepped closer and
touched her arm. “You can trust Lance. I promise.”
“I don’t know what happened before,” Lance said. “But I can guar-
antee you one thing— nothing will be exposed about this incident until
you decide what you want to do. However, we need this test to ensure
that you’re okay and that the person who did this to you didn’t give you
anything that could cause problems for you later. Let the doctor take
care of you. You can trust her and her staff, and you can trust Sadie and me.” Lance touched Sadie’s elbow. “We’ll leave you here with the doctor
to make your decision. I hope you’ll let her help you.”
Becky cried and nodded at the doctor as Lance and Sadie left the
room.
121
Chapter 21
Angus parked in front of the Party Barn Bar, grasped an unlit stogy with
the corner of his mouth, and marched into the place like he owned it.
The dimly lit bar looked like it had been standing at least a century; the smell of greasy food and stale cigarette smoke permeated the wooden
walls and floor. Rosy, a robust woman mixing drinks behind the bar, let
out a laugh that echoed around the room and out the front door.
“Love you, baby.” She boomed her trademark answer to everything
and everyone.
Angus straddled an empty stool right in front of her and gave her a
wink. “How’s my favorite barmaid today?”
“That’s bar owner to you, baby face,” she said, her low- cut knit blouse straining to cover her breasts as she wiped the counter. “Ain’t
been no maids around here in a long time.” She exaggerated the word
“long” and then belted out another laugh. “You come for your regular?”
“Yeah,” he said. “And bring me some lemonade.”
“Drinking heavy, I see.” Rosy scooped ice into a glass and filled it
with lemonade.
Angus pulled out his lighter, lit his half- smoked cigar, and waited
for her to slide the drink to him. When she did, he grabbed her hand.
“That’s okay, Rosy. I don’t need a barmaid, because I’ve got my own
gen- u- ine Indian maid. She’s a looker and says she can cook. We’ll be
finding out if that is true when the next round of hunters show up in a
week or so.”
“Find out what?” Rosy razzed him as she pulled her hand away.
“Whether she’s a looker or whether she can cook?” Her laugh echoed
the bar let out a room full of belly laughs.
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A voice rose above the laughter. “Angus, you’re so old and stove up, you wouldn’t know a looker if one strolled in here and sat on your lap.”
Laughter erupted again as Rosy reappeared through the swinging
kitchen doors, dropped a plate piled high with fried catfish, French fries, and coleslaw in front of Angus, and then moved on to wait on two elderly Indian men who had settled quietly at a corner table.
Angus rested his cigar in a nearby ashtray and popped a cornmeal
hushpuppy into his mouth with his fingers. The bar had a regular group
of lunch customers, and although Angus sat among them every Monday
and Friday for the weekly catfish special, he didn’t relate to any of them.
Sure, they would give him a hard time and act like they were his best
drinking buddies, but they were, in his opinion, nothing but a bunch of
local drunks, and if he had to guess, they probably lived off welfare. His tax dollars at work, he thought. He liked to have a drink from time to
time, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but unlike him, these men were
nothing but a drain on society.
The man sitting two seats down from Angus piped up. “Tell us more
about that Indian maid you’ve got, Angus.”
Angus grinned and talked with a full mouth. “Oh, she’s nice. Real
nice.”
“That’s all you’ve got,” the man shot back at Angus. “She’s real
nice?”
Angus stood up, pulled his elbows back, and thrust out his pelvis
twice. When he sat back down, he noticed the two Indian men in the
corner and gave them a half- hearted smile before turning his attention to one of three television screens strategically mounted on the wall behind
the bar. He resumed eating.
Rosy slapped a ticket on the bar in
front of Angus. “I’ll take care of
that when you’re ready, sweetie.”
Angus grinned and gave a nod to Rosy. She shouldn’t be calling
everyone sweetie, Angus thought. She might end up with more than she
could handle.
When he’d finished eating, he dropped several bills on his ticket,
swung around, and slid off his stool. He stood, adjusted his pants, and
strode out of the bar past the empty corner table.
“See you Friday, Angus Baby,” Rosy called out behind him.
123
★
After spending the night at Sycamore Springs General Hospital, the doc-
tor announced to Becky she could go home. Home? Where was that,
Becky wondered. She didn’t plan on returning to the Buffalo Ranch as
long as she lived, even for the few belongings she’d left behind, and se-
cretly, she wished the whole place would be struck by lightning and go
up in flames. That, or maybe a tornado could come along and wipe the
entire ranch off the face of the earth, leaving nothing but barren dirt, as if Angus Clyborn and anything he owned had never existed. She knew
it wasn’t right to wish anyone harm, but right now she hated that man
with every inch of her mind, body, and soul.
The closest thing to “home” was her father’s place, but she couldn’t
let him see her until the cut above her brow had healed. She had ignored
his warning, thinking she knew more than he did. If he saw her, she
was afraid he’d immediately know what had happened, and she couldn’t
allow that. She’d lied to him on the phone, told him she’d had a little
episode with her appendix, but that everything was fine, and promised
to come see him when she felt better. She hoped he wouldn’t detect the
deceit in her voice like he always had when she was a teenager. She had
changed since she escaped Delaware County and fled to California, but
she wasn’t sure she could ever change enough to fool her father.
Sadie burst through the hospital room door. “I’m here to spring
you,” she said. Her cheerful voice lit up the room as she placed a brown
paper sack on the end of Becky’s bed. “I brought you some clothes, too,”
she said.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Sadie.” She could feel tears pool-
ing in her eyes.
“I thought we might wear about the same size, so I took the liberty