Edward Lee - The Black Train

The Black Train Edward Lee

THE HOUSE OF EVIL

Cricket was fourteen when she died, while Mary was chubbymore squat-bodiedand blonde. Four years older than Cricket. They both died on the same day, incidentally. April 30, 1862. And, yes, they were murdered by Harwood Gast. Their bodies were discovered on May third by the town marshal. Sutes eyes thinned. Where did you see the girls? In the hotel?

Collier could only peer at the man. Youre talking about ghosts as though you personally believe in them.

Oh, I do. Very much so. And though I may not have been totally honest with you during our lunch, I very much believe that Mrs. Butlers innthe Gast Houseis full to bursting with ghosts. I believe that it is permeated with the horrors of its original owner

For Paul Legerski

PROLOGUE

Gast, Tennessee

1857

thunk!

Morris chopped off the girls hand with a hatchet, then guttered laughter. The poor mulatto wailed, her stump pumping.

Whatchoo do that for! Cutton bellowed. He hadnt even gotten his trousers off before Morris had pulled this move.

Morris had giggled some spittle onto his shabby beard. Shes mixed, Cutton, a mixed whore. And I paid her a dollar. He was rubbing his crotch with the girls severed hand. Mixed dont charge but twenty cents nohow.

Cutton could barely speak as he refastened his belt. Youre crazy, Morris! The whore-mother in the other rooms gonna fetch Marshal Braden!

The girl was shuddering beneath Morriss spread thighs, entering shock. Awwwwww, shee-it. Gast owns the marshal, and we work for Gast. We was just havin some fun in a whorehouse is all.

Fun? Choppin off a girls hand is fun? Cutton tugged a leather string from one of his Jefferson shoes and tied off the girls stump. Youre about as smart as dog puke. This girl could die.

Morris dropped the hand on the girls quivering stomach. She aint gonna die, Cutton. Look, see, Ill make it right. He dropped a five-dollar silver piece on the floor.

Youre one crazy son of a bitch. Thats the last time I go drinkin with you, Cutton raged and walked for the door.

Morris couldnt believe it. Aint you even gonna take your turn?

Cutton stalked out of the brothel into dusty darkness. Shit. Hed known Morris a while now; theyd worked the Delaware track together. But it just seemed like that man had turned crazy since theyd signed on with Gast and his rail crew.

Crazyor evil? he wondered.

Number 3 Street stood dark. On the next block, he could hear they were still drinking at Cushers Tavern. But Cutton didnt want to go back there. Theyd ask him how it went.

The door flapped open behind him. Morris, with his kersey work pants back on, implored, Aw, come on, Cutton. Whats your dander up for? Shes mixed, for Gods sake!

Cutton walked off. He didnt care that she was half Negro; it wouldnt even matter if she were full. Lynchin a slave for stealin or rapes one thing, but what he done is just plain ungodly. Cutton loped into more darkness. There was nothing left to do now but head back to the bunkhouse and get some sleep. Hed spent most of the day on his horse, inspecting track and making sure Gasts slaves were up to speed. Dog tired, I am. All hed wanted was a quick one with a whore.

Notthis.

You done with your carryin-on? a soft voice stopped him.

Cutton turned at the crossroad. It couldnt be someone from the whorehouse; that was the opposite direction. He squinted.

More feminine words: You done or lookin for more?

Cuttons eyes fixed on the ghostly image: a curvaceous white blur. The shadow of a branch obscured her face.

Lady, I just walked out of some carryin-on that I didnt care for at all, he said. Whore you?

Come on! And then a warm hand grabbed his and pulled.

She led him up the hill, brambles crackling. Nets of moonlight through the trees never quite allowed any detail, but as Cutton hustled behind her, he eventually could tell she was naked beneath the sheer gown.

You aint from the whorehouse, are ya?

A soft chuckle fluttered. Just come on.

Cutton grew half aroused just from the feel of her hand, that soft warmth over his callusesthat, and something more abstract, like anticipation. She seemed desperate as she led on.

Where are you taking m

Dont talk! Well be at the house in a second

House. Something heavy slipped into Cuttons heart. There aint but one house up this hill, he knew. A servant girl? But hed heard that all of Gasts house staff were Negroes. You work for Mr. Gast? he asked.

No, she giggled, but Im married to him.

Cutton stopped like a grapeshot blast to the chest. He turned her around and looked her right in the face, a face like a beautiful blur, curly hair glowing the same color as the moon. Shit! You aint lyin!

Are you coming or not?

Cutton froze. Youreyoure my bosss wife

Say it louder so the slavesll hear you all the way over at the Sibley compound. Now the moonlight fixed on her; she seemed to glow. My husbands in Tredegar, at the iron works. Hes buying more track from a federal broker. He wont be back until tomorrow. Her voice was sweet as syrup. Next, she lifted one breast out of the gowns top and simultaneously cupped Cuttons crotch. Come inside now

The great angular house stood like a shadowed mesa. Hed only seen it from afar, and didnt care about it now. The door clattered; then they were in and she was guiding him up the stairs. Cutton ignored the sumptuous details of the interior, focusing instead on the sheer gown sliding around her rump, and the sides of her breasts swaying. Down a carpeted hall lined with framed pictures, thenclickinto a room.

Woo

The room smelled bad right off, and usually when the room smelled bad, so did the woman. But Cutton stood correctedor it should be said that he knelt correctedwhen she immediately pushed him to his knees and raised her nightgown. It was that abruptno need for courting or sweet talk. Cutton had time to think, What I get myself into? This is my bosss wife! when the next realization slapped him like a hand. He expected a downy patch of hair that matched the blonde tresses on her head but found a hairless pubis in his face instead.

Cutton had heard of women doing thisupper-crust womenbut hed never seen it himself. He stared in awe, frozen. Shaved baldaint that somethinHis fingers traced over the fresh white triangle. A clean shave, too, hardly any stubble

The bare stomach quivered before his eyes; then, something less than the Southern belle, she ordered, Lick it.

The soft buttocks was hot in his hands. She tasted like rosewater.

He couldnt concentrate, however, and she seemed to sense this, her nails digging into the back of his neck when he faltered. Cuttons mind swam as his tongue roved. Once he stopped, looked up at her face: But, uh, Mrs. Gast, if your husband comes home early, I will be in a bad way. She skimmed the nightgown off entirely. I told you, hes buying more track! And then she urged him all the way to the floor and sat on his face.

Now lick it!

Her sex pressed down over his mouth. Gast would have me killed, Cutton suspected. Other men had whispered of this womans delights but was it worth it? Cutton gave her succor until she spasmed. Her white thighs quivered against his cheeks

That was lovely, she sighed and rolled over. The perfect way to begin.

At least Cutton liked the sound of that.

The bed, now, she said.