Chapter Three

Joe was now sitting on a bench inside the wagon.  He was lucky. He was at the front where there was something to lean on other than the canvas of the bonnet.  He and the man across from him leaned to the side against the back of the seat, leaving the other men to lean on each other.  If they leaned back, they might tear the canvas and fall backwards out of the wagon.  The men dozed off and on, their sleep interrupted by the rough ride of the wagon on the rutted back roads.  Their captors avoided any homesteads and towns. They were staying on the roads less traveled.

Joe tried to keep up with their direction, but it was next to impossible with the little bit of daylight he could see out the back of the wagon.  When that daylight faded to dusk, the wagon came to a halt again, and the prisoners were ordered out.  “Here’s how this works, boy,” said the boss.  “You keep everyone walking in front of you, and number one’s neck won’t get stretched,” he said, nodding to the prisoner who was first in line as another man tied a rope around his neck and tied the other end to the wagon.  “If he falls, it won’t kill him before we get the wagon stopped, but it’ll sure make him think he’s been hung, ‘specially if the rest of you fall.  You let one of ‘em fall, you’re in front next.”

Joe had held his tongue all day, but he knew the wagon was moving faster than they could walk.  “If you need us for work in a mine, what’s the point in wearing us out before we get there?” he yelled with his chest heaving.

“This here’s practice.  You’ll be working in the mine on a chain gang just like this.  One of you falls, all of you fall…or get buried under a ton of rock.  And then the mine’ll be short some men, and I’ll just have to find some more able bodies.  I prefer to sit and watch you dig with a gun at your back.”

“You know, for a man in charge, you aren’t very smart,” hissed Joe.  “We can dig more if we’re not worn out.”

The man looked away and spit, then glowered back at Joe.  “I see I need to remind you what happens to someone who talks too much.”  He motioned to two of his men to hold Joe.  One grabbed his arms from the back, and the other grabbed a handful of hair, tilting his head back.  The boss tossed his rifle to another man, and then pulled a knife from a sheath attached to his belt.  Walking slowly toward Joe with the knife in one hand, turning it round and round, he leaned in close to Joe’s face…almost nose to nose.  “We already left one of these boy’s tongues behind.  We can always leave two behind.” Joe winced at the man’s breath, the foul stench of rotting flesh.  “The tongue is the perfect piece to lose.  You can’t do anything more than grunt without it.  No one can see that it’s gone unless you show ‘em.  And there’s surprisingly very little blood.  Besides that, you swallow it all eventually.”

Joe refused to look away, and continued to glare.

“I’ll tell you what, boy.  I’ll leave you your tongue.  But next time you decide to get smart with me, I’ll take another one of their tongues.”  The man grabbed hold of Joe’s left sleeve and ripped it away. “And just as a reminder, I’ll leave you with something to help you remember to keep your mouth shut.”  He nodded to the man holding Joe’s head back.  “Raise his arm.  Now this, boy, will be with you for quite a while.  It just takes a small cut in your armpit, but it’ll hurt like it’s on fire.  Unless you hold your arm out, it’ll rub.  Then there’s sweat, and just as soon as we get a little further south tomorrow, you will sweat.”

The man drew his knife across Joe’s armpit only an inch, but deep enough for Joe to clench his teeth in pain.  He smiled in Joe’s face as Joe flared his nostrils, looking away to keep from saying anything.

“Smart boy,” said the boss as he walked away.  “You two,” he said, pointing to two of his men.  “Get in the wagon and get some sleep.  We’ll stop in a few hours to trade places.  You,” he said, pointing to the other two.  “Ride behind the wagon.”

Joe picked his shirt sleeve up off the ground, and slung it in the air to remove the dirt, then folded it and stuffed it under his arm.  It was still hurting just from the cut, but Joe knew the rubbing and sweat would be worse.  He’d have to try to keep his arm still.

Once the men were lined up behind the wagon, it pulled forward at a slow enough pace at first, but when they got to a straight stretch in the road, the driver urged the horses to go faster. The chain linking the men together was attached in the center of the chain between each man’s ankles, so they had to walk with their feet apart.  Running was not an easy proposition and even worse trying to run in a rhythm that would prevent the five of them from stepping on each other.

They were already tired, and when the first man tripped and fell, his head was jerked forward, sending his feet into the man behind him.  The rest fell backward like dominoes, and while the back four were being dragged by their feet, the front man was being dragged by his neck with the weight of all four men pulling him back, effectively hanging him.

The wagon continued to roll for a short while longer, and when it stopped, all the men slowly got to their feet, except the first one, who hadn’t yet caught his breath.  His neck was bloody from the pull of rough rope around it.  “Get ‘em all turned around,” said the man in charge as he walked back to Joe.  “It was your job to keep them up.  You failed.”

“It’s not hard to fail an impossible job,” said Joe angrily.

The boss started to turn away, and removing his gun from the holster, he quickly spun around catching Joe on the side of the face with the butt of the gun, sending Joe to the ground.  He lay still, keeping his eyes closed against the flashing lights he was seeing.  He breathed deeply, trying to settle his dizziness. Hands grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet, and he staggered forward, bumping into the man chained in front of him.

“Get him in the front.”

The other two men pushed him forward, causing him to fall to his knees.  When they grabbed him under his arms, he yelled out and pulled away, then stumbled forward on his own.  He had lost the sleeve that was protecting his armpit.  He not only felt blood running down his side, but raising his hand to the side of his face, he found a cut above his eye.  Blood was running down his face.  The man who had been in the front was placed behind Joe. Now, the rope was around Joe’s neck.