Page 2 of Running to the Cowboy

“It has to be tonight. My wedding is tomorrow.”

There is no “we” about it. If a group of us leaves together, it’s more likely that one of us will be caught. But if I escape on my own, I am way more likely to succeed in getting help to set up a safe house for as many who want to leave.

Louisa appears out of the shadows, holding a steaming cup. She sits on the end of my bed.

“We can figure out a way to postpone it. You’ll tell him you’re on your period.”

Brother Nevyn is the worst, but the fact that the church teaches women on their periods are unclean at least gives us women a respite from male attention once a month.

I shake my head as I struggle to sit up. “Mother will be back tomorrow. It has to be tonight. I can’t wait another 18 days.” The horrors that would take place between now and the next night Mother leaves us unattended are unthinkable. I could be pregnant by then, or worse.

Louisa hands me the cup, and I drink it gratefully. Ginger and lemon. Louisa’s tea always makes me feel better.

“Thank you,” I croak.

In the dark room, my sisters exchange a look. I can’t see it, but I can sense it. I know these women like I know my own breath.They’ll stay up all night and pin me down to keep me from leaving. Not because they want me to marry Brother Nevyn but because they’re worried I’ll die out there in the cold.

I have to reassure them that I won’t leave tonight. It’s the only way.

“Okay,” I relent, lying through my teeth. “I’ll wait.”

Louisa sighs in relief, and I hate myself for deceiving her. “Good. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to leave together when you feel better.”

I nod and lie back down, flopping into my flat, filthy pillow with dramatic flair.

Goldie and Louisa’s watch over me is tangible as I pretend to drift off. Soon, I actually do.

When I open my eyes again, the girls are no longer watching me.

I wait until I’m absolutely sure they’re asleep, the sound of their breathing giving them away.

And then I silently slip out of bed, pull on a second, then a third pair of socks, creep to the door, unlock it, and walk out.

The night air bites into my skin. It’s much worse than I thought. I hope the extra pairs of socks will protect me long enough to get to the main road, where I can flag down a passing car.

That’s the best I can hope for.

I head north, cursing the cloudless sky. Not even Mother Nature can be merciful tonight to let me know which way is north. I’m going on instinct alone.

The road has to be here somewhere. I slowly amble and stumble over the frozen, pitted path. But the night is so black. And my feet are increasingly growing colder.

My head is starting to throb, and my fingers are like icicles.

No. I’m not going to freeze to death. I simply won’t, because I refuse to.

I just have to keep moving.

The road has to be this way. I’ve gone too far now, and the grass and trees have to give way to concrete soon. It doesn’t; my feet touch nothing but ice and cold ground.

And then, I’m caught.

Not by Brother Nevyn, or any of the other brethren or elders, with their armory of guns, bibles, and books of the Prophet.

I’m ensnared in something sharp and cold and inhuman.

Barbed wire.

So that’s both good news and bad news. Bad because I’ve now injured myself to where my side is bleeding and my nightshirt is ripped open. Good news, because this means that although I haven’t reached the road, I’ve found the edge of the compound’s property. I’m so close to freedom that a second wind comes on.

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