Chandler's Ride: Chapter 3

Posted: October 23, 2005 - 10:33:36 am



After three days on the road, Malcolm had finally reached his destination. He

rode into the small town and took stock of his surroundings. There was a general

store, an inn, a blacksmith, and an open market in the center of the town. A

handful of houses lined the streets. The stable was at the other end of town. He

figured the town had fifty residents, although another couple hundred people

probably lived on properties around it.

Malcolm kicked his horse with his heels and directed it towards the stable.

Stables tended to be away from the center of town since the smell of manure and

the horse flies were not exactly an invitation for next door neighbors. Upon

reaching it, he dismounted and tied the horse to one of the fence posts of the

corral. The wood was in much better condition then the wood at the stable where

he had purchased his horse.

The owner, a man in his early thirties, stepped out of the barn. His eyes went

to the horse before they turned to Malcolm's direction. In a quiet voice, he

said, "Two pinches a night. I'll clean your tack with saddle soap and check it

for wear, although they look in good condition from here."

"Fine," said Malcolm lifting his saddlebags off the horse. The price was a

little high, but the man looked like he knew what he was doing. He said, "This

horse has no spirit, but is dependable. You'll have no call to beat it."

"Man who beats a horse deserves what he gets when the horse kicks him," said the

man. He went over to the horse and rubbed a hand over its' flank.

Malcolm was sure that the horse actually relaxed even more than it was. If it

got much more relaxed, he was convinced that the animal would fall over. He

said, "I'll be here for a day or two. Need to get supplies before I continue

on."

The man bent down and examined the hoof on the front leg. The animal didn't put

up any kind of resistance. He commented, "Take two days and I'll have your horse

in the best condition possible."

"I'll let you know tomorrow," said Malcolm.

"Good enough," said the man as he untied the horse. He led the animal into the

barn where he would take care of it.

Shaking his head, Malcolm headed back towards the center of town where the inn

was located. The inn had a sign with a bed, a tankard, and a plate on it. Like a

lot of inns located in towns of this size, this one didn't seem to have a name.

Coming from modern America, it always surprised Malcolm to discover that most

places didn't have names. They didn't name their businesses, their towns, or

roads. The local inn was known as the inn. It was only when the town grew large

enough to support more than one inn did anyone think of naming them.

He entered the place finding it was not as clean as the stable. The dirt floor

was covered with straw, although the area around the fireplace was clear. The

straw was necessary to keep it from turning into mud when folks spilled their

drinks. The owner was behind the counter and watched Malcolm assessing him in

terms of the danger he represented. A woman, who had seen better days, sat in

the corner of the public room assessing him in terms of how much money he

carried.

Malcolm made his way to the counter and said, "Need a room for a night or two."

"Two pinches a night if you want a common room, three if you want a private

room, and five if you want company," said the man pointing to the woman in the

corner when he mentioned company.

"Does that include board?"

"Of course it does," the man said.

"I'll take the private room," Malcolm said. He glanced over at the corner where

the woman had opened her blouse to display her tits. They hung down almost to

her navel. Turning back to the owner, he said, "No company."

"She's a good fuck."

"No company," Malcolm repeated.

"Everyone in town has been with her and no one has complained yet."

"No company."

"Your room is the door over there with the picture of the cow on it," said the

man pointing to the far wall.

One of the doors had a picture of a four-legged animal that might have passed

for a cow. The other two doors had pictures of a bird and fish respectively.

Malcolm shook his head at the idea of a room off the public room. There'd be

little or no sleep until the bar closed down. Frowning, he said, "Okay."

"I'll take a pitcher of watered wine," said Malcolm setting out three pinches

for the room.

"Two pitchers of watered wine for a pinch," said the owner as he turned to fill

a pitcher from a large wood barrel mounted behind the bar.

He put a pinch down on the bar and accepted the pitcher from the owner. The man

handed him a clay cube and said, "For your second pitcher."

The woman in the corner yawned loudly in an attempt to get attention. When she

noticed Malcolm looking at her, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked on

it. Removing the thumb from her mouth, she said, "I'll give you a handjob for

your second pitcher or a blowjob for a pinch."

"Not today," Malcolm said. He figured she was an indentured servant and was hard

at work to clear up her indenture before she ended up in a worse place. She'd

collect the tokens for the pitchers of watered wine and turn them in as payment

towards her indenture. At a pinch or two per day, it would take her forever to

pay off an indenture. He decided that the time to ask about it would be when the

public room was filled with more people.

Taking a seat in the far corner of the room, Malcolm poured filled his tankard

with watered wine. He took a sip and grimaced at the slightly sour taste. If it

sat around much longer it would become vinegar. The woman laughed at his

reaction and said, "The beer is better."

"Might be, but I want to remain sober enough to untie my pants before taking a

piss," Malcolm replied with a grin.

The woman laughed good-naturedly and said, "Pay me a pinch and I'll untie your

pants as frequently as required. I'll even hold it for you while you piss."

Laughing, Malcolm replied, "I imagine that would make it impossible to piss."

It was approaching dark before the inn started filling with regulars. Malcolm

watched the men enter and place their orders. Half of the men greeted the woman,

calling her Molly. He watched as men went over to Molly and struck private deals

for her services. She'd take the man over to the room with the fish on the door

and stay inside for a few minutes. They'd emerge with the man wearing a smile

and her dropping off something for the owner.

After finishing the vile pitcher of watered wine, Malcolm went to the bar and

turned his clay cube for another. He requested his meal, which turned out to be

a roasted half a chicken, some fried potatoes, and a slice of bread. He carried

the pewter plate and pitcher back to his table. Sitting down, he started to eat.

Like most of the people, he used his knife to shovel the fried potatoes into his

mouth and used his hands to eat the chicken.

Considering there were only four tables in the inn, it was late before any sat

down at his table. The man looked at the empty plate and the half-empty pitcher

before taking a sip of his beer. In a loud voice, he said, "I notice you ain't

been with Molly. What's the matter? She not good enough for you?"

This was the opening that Malcolm had been waiting for the entire evening.

Sitting back, he answered, "You ever heard of Rebecca of Silver Town?"

"Rebecca of Silver Town? Who hasn't heard of her? There aren't many women who

can pay off a fifty conch indenture in two years," said the man. His loud

repetition of her name caused everyone to stop talking and turn to listen to the

conversation.

"Yeah. I helped her move after she paid off her indenture. She ruined me for

other women," said Malcolm. He drained his tankard and refilled it. Shaking his

head, he said, "Positively ruined me for other women."

One of the men asked, "Is it true that she had four breasts?"

Nodding, Malcolm said, "Yes. Two above two and each of them perfect. The ones

above were bigger than the ones below. Each was topped with the finest pink

nipples you could ever imagine."

"I'd heard that about her," said the man who had asked the question.

"I'd pay a shell to see that," said another man.

"Me too."

Looking as pathetic as he could, Malcolm said, "That's not the reason she paid

off her indenture so quickly."

The man across from him asked, "Why not?"

"She had the finest pussy that ever graced a woman. She would settle down on top

of your cock and milk it without moving. It was the most incredible feeling a

man could ever experience. She charged twenty shells for an evening and no man

ever wanted his money back," Malcolm said. Every word he said was true. He

didn't know how good she was in bed, but he had helped her move.

"You paid twenty shells to sleep with a woman?"

"No. I helped her move when her indenture was over," Malcolm said. His comment

was greeted with silence. He waited for the inevitable question and didn't have

to wait long.

"So you're saying you know where she lives?"

"Sure do," answered Malcolm. Shaking his head, he said, "I stop by every year

and propose to her, but she turns me down every time."

"I'll give you two pinches if you'll tell me where she lives," said one of the

men.

"No. If I do that, she'll move and I'll never find her again," said Malcolm. The

trap was baited and now all he had to do was wait for the prey to arrive.

Standing up, he said, "I'm turning in fellows. Always gets me sad thinking about

Rebecca."

Malcolm went to his room and opened the door. He turned around to get a candle

when he found Molly standing behind him. She held up a lit candle and said, "You

really did know Rebecca?"

"Yes, I do," answered Malcolm carefully putting it into the present tense.

"No wonder you turned me down," she said with a slight frown. She handed him the

candle and returned to her chair.

He entered the room and looked around. The bed was a typical woven surface, but

this one was loose rather than tight. A chamber pot was under the bed exactly

where he expected it. He slid the bar that would keep the door closed while he

slept into place.

Even though he was confident that he wouldn't be disturbed, he placed his axe

and knife where he could grab them in the dark. He lay down on the bed and blew

out his candle. From inside his room he could hear the murmur and tone of the

conversations in the public room. It was clear that opinion was divided over

whether he actually knew Rebecca of Silver Town.

It was early morning when he woke. There'd been a few interruptions during the

night as people knocked on his door wanting to learn more about Rebecca. He had

ignored the attempts to get his attention, but it meant that he had passed a

miserable night. Getting out of bed, he went to the door and opened it. The

place was closed and the owner was nowhere to be seen.

Walking towards the back door that would take him to the outhouse, he could hear

snoring from inside the room with the fish on the door. He guessed that Molly

had found an overnight customer. He went out back and located the outhouse

without much difficulty. He did his business and found the well. Pulling up a

bucket of water, he washed his hands and face.

The opening of the backdoor interrupted his bath. Turning, he spotted the owner

stepping out. The man grunted in his direction while briskly walking over to the

outhouse. Malcolm wondered if the man had a family. His question was answered

when a young man stepped out the backdoor to collect some wood. The family

resemblance was unmistakable.

Malcolm returned to the inn and headed towards the public room. He could hear

sounds coming from the wall behind the bar. It sounded like someone was building

a fire in the fireplace. The lack of iron made a stove an expensive proposition

and he'd never seen one in all of his travels. Most cookware was made of copper,

although there were some cast iron pots and pans.

He sat down at the table to wait for the owner to serve breakfast. Undoubtedly,

breakfast would be cheese and bread served with tea in a pewter tankard. He

hadn't been there long before the door with the fish opened and one of the men

from the night before dashed out the back. Smiling, he shook his head.

The owner came in and asked, "Care for some boiled eggs and bread?"

Surprised by the fare, Malcolm answered, "That would be fine."

"It'll take a while. Still have to boil the eggs," said the man as he went

behind the bar.

"No problem."

The owner was silent for a moment and then asked, "Do you really know Rebecca?"

"Yes, I do know her. She's a very lovely woman with a heart of gold."

The man shook his head and said, "I'd give almost everything I own to sleep with

her."

It seemed to Malcolm that every place and time had a sex symbol that represented

everything that a man could possibly want in a woman. Despite her extra pair of

breasts, Rebecca was that woman and she well deserved that honor. Her hair was

the color of honey, her eyes a deep emerald green, and her fair skin was

unblemished. Talking with her was a pleasure. Her voice reminded men of

nightingales. Her laugh was easy on the ears and came even easier to her lips.

If he hadn't known Alice, Malcolm knew that she would have been the one woman

with whom he could have fallen in love.

A woman's voice interrupted his memories. "How did you know her?"

"I was working as a bodyguard on a job up in Silver Town about the time when

Rebecca finished her indenture. The lady I was escorting knew Rebecca and agreed

to help her move away from there. So it came to pass that I ended up driving the

wagon with all of Rebecca's possessions to her new home," answered Malcolm.

Rebecca had helped the Damsel in Distress he had rescued. The Damsel felt she

owed the woman more than she could ever pay. Despite the fact that men were

looking for her, she had demanded that Malcolm help her friend. Malcolm

accepted, knowing that Cassandra was not the only source of Damsels in Distress.

"You sound like you love her," said Molly.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Malcolm said. He stopped by to visit Rebecca whenever he

could. The fact was that he hated using her as the bait in his trap.

After breakfast, Malcolm left the inn. He had a day to kill and went about doing

it in a manner that wouldn't raise suspicion. His first stop was the general

store. Looking around it, he noticed the ceramic jars that held herbal remedies.

On one of them was the painted image of a poppy. The proprietor of the store

came over and asked, "Could I help you?"

"I'd like five balls of opium," answered Malcolm pointing to the jar.

"Five balls? That seems like a lot," the man said.

"I'm going into the back country. If I get hurt, that's all I'll have to ease

the pain," replied Malcolm.

The man counted out five balls of opium, putting them in a piece of folded

paper. Once that was done, the man said, "Be careful with this stuff. You can

get addicted to it. Will you need a pipe?"

"No."

"Is there anything else?"

"I'll be gone for a long time. Is it possible to get a smoked ham around here?"

Malcolm asked.

"I've got three in the back. They're even in cloth bags that you can use once

you finish the ham."

"Excellent, I'll take one of them."

The man disappeared for a minute before returning with a good- sized ham.

Malcolm nodded his head pleased with what he saw. Turning to point to the wall,

he asked, "That net. How big is it?"

"It is five paces long and two paces wide."

"Is that the only one you have?"

"Yes."

Deciding that it wouldn't work for his intended purpose, Malcolm said, "I'm

tempted, but it is too big."

"You can always cut it down to size."

"Last time I did that, I ended up without a net," replied Malcolm with a laugh.

The proprietor laughed at the image of the net unraveling. He asked, "Anything

else?"

"Ten pounds of lead."

"Ten?"

"Yes, ten pounds of lead," answered Malcolm. He figured that ten pounds would be

sufficient weight to trigger any traps he might encounter.

"Not sure that I have enough. Let me check," said the proprietor. He had no idea

what a man was going to do with that much lead, but this was promising to be a

big sale.

Malcolm wandered around the store checking out the other goods contained within

it. For a small store, there were lots of different items. The proprietor came

out and said, "I've got three three- pound ingots. Will that do?"

"Sure. That'll be fine."

"Anything else?"

"Nope, that'll do it for now."

Malcolm paid for his purchases and carried them back to the inn. He dropped the

ham, rope, and opium in his room. He went on to the blacksmith with his nine

pounds of lead. The blacksmith was a huge man, with arms the size of tree

trunks. He looked over at Malcolm and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I want these three bars of lead turned into a disk with a hole in the middle.

Can you do it?"

"Why would you want that?" asked the man confused by the request.

"I've got my reasons," Malcolm said.

"It'll take most of a day and cost three pinches."

"Fine. I'll pick it up before dark."

Malcolm left the lead at the blacksmith and returned to the inn. He'd eaten up

the morning, but that still left the afternoon to kill. Picking up the ham, he

cut five large chunks of meat out of it. Cutting a deep slit into each piece of

ham, he spread a ball of opium inside each one. He put the chunks in the cloth

bag in which the ham had been packed.

It was early in the evening and Malcolm was drinking watered wine when a slick

wealthy looking young man slithered into the inn. The conversation, which had

been boisterous at times, died with his arrival. It was as if everyone in the

room knew something was the matter with the man.

Malcolm didn't need to be introduced to the man to know he was Derek. He had

known the man would come upon learning that someone in town knew the location of

Rebecca of Silver Town. Malcolm knew that the only thing that could overcome

Derek's paranoia was his lust.

The man looked over at Malcolm with a sneer on his face. He examined the man

seated at the table and dismissed him as a real threat. The battle-ax looked too

big for the man to wield effectively and was too small to be intimidating. He

knew that with the right distance between the two of them, he could gut the man

with his sword and never be in danger.

Derek walked over to where Malcolm was seated and, in a condescending voice,

asked, "Are you the one who knows where Rebecca lives?"

"Yes," answered Malcolm. He examined the shiny black leather clothes the man

wore. They were an ostentatious symbol of wealth, as was the very fancy sword

hanging in the scabbard at his waist.

"Tell me where she lives," Derek said.

"No."

"I'll give you a conch if you tell me."

"No," answered Derek with a dismissive shake of his head.

"I won't take no for an answer," said Derek angrily. He was not used to men

denying him anything he wanted.

"That's too bad, because I won't give yes as an answer," said Malcolm as he took

a drink from his tankard with his left hand.

Derek noticed the use of the left-hand and leaned over the table so that his

face was inches from Malcolm's face. In a low threatening voice, he said,

"You'll tell me now or I'll carve little chunks out of your body until you

talk."

Weight loss jokes would not be understood, so Malcolm did the next best thing

and laughed. Still laughing, he slammed the tankard down on the table and

echoed, "You'll carve little chunks out of my body. That's funny."

Furious, Derek stepped back and drew his sword. With his opponent trapped behind

a table and basically defenseless, he felt confident that he would win. A couple

of strokes with his sword and the man would be helpless before him.

Malcolm stood and pulled out his ax using his left hand. Every motion he made

announced that he had no skill with the ax. He held it awkwardly with the head

at an odd angle. Using the flat of his blade, Derek knocked the ax out of his

hand and stepped forward so that only the table separated them. In a low

guttural voice, he said, "You're gonna beg..."

Malcolm pulled his knife out of the other man's stomach and stepped back. Derek,

with a very surprised look on his face, collapsed on the table. Black blood

pooled on the table beneath and around his body. Looking down at the man,

Malcolm said, "You were watching the wrong hand."

Stepping away from the table, Malcolm picked up his ax and returned it to his

belt with a practiced flourish. His actions convinced everyone that his

awkwardness with the ax had been a sham intended to fool Derek. He looked around

the room to see if there was anyone who wanted to challenge him.

It was Molly who broke the silence in the room. In a scornful voice, she said,

"He was a real creep. He liked to hurt women."

Returning to the body on the table, Malcolm stripped it of money and weapons.

Among the personal items were a couple of keys. He took those as well. One of

the men said, "He's got a place down the road. You'll want to go there tomorrow

and claim it."