Page 58 of Head Room
“I do think the company as a whole cannot be held responsible for her well-being,” agreed the captain, though Maggie thought from his voice that he didn’t particularly care to be agreeing with Stelmen Viess.
“Then let one person be responsible for her,” the tall one said.
“Who?”asked the captain.
“A husband.”
The jumble of voices exclaiming at the tall one’s answer buzzed in her head with her own thoughts.She’d had a husband.She did not want another.
“She would get pay as a laundress,” offered the captain.“Her husband would have that, as well as preference for private quarters.”
“My God, who’d want her?”thundered Viess.“A bunch of savages’ leavings.She’s probably been bedded by every—”
“Not likely.”
This new voice came from a dark corner, from the man with the empty eyes and the down-turned mustache.
“Aw, c’mon, Major, we’ve heard what Indians do to white women,” said Stelmen Viess.
“Indians have as wide a spread in their treatment of white women as white men do.”His tone made it clear empty-eyes — Major, they called him — put Stelmen Viess at the low end of the spread.“Some use white women that way, some make them servants, some take them in, marry them, and make them close to a regular member of the tribe.
“They’re about as varied with that as they are with how they treat captives from other tribes.But one thing’s different about this woman.”
Even with her head lowered, Maggie could tell Major had drawn every man’s eye to him...except, she thought, the tall one’s.She still felt the weight of his look resting on the right side of her face, the way she could feel the warmth of the fire on her without having to see it.
“What’s different?”a voice from behind her, finally asked.
“Her hair.”
Now Maggie could feel all eyes on her, and she had to fight the urge to curl into a tight ball and try to disappear.
“Her hair?It’s red.”
“That’s right.I figure that’s what kept her alive when they killed all the rest at that road ranch.A lot of Indians think red hair’s a sign of madness—at best—and the devil at worst.Some bands wouldn’t have risked taking her captive at all.Likely the ones who took her were afraid enough of her not to kill her.They tried to subdue her—subdue the devil—by making her a slave.Beating her would take some bravery, by their view, but that wouldn’t involve the same sort of risk as bedding her.”
“Well, that theory’s all fine and dandy, Major,” said Viess.“But there’s no knowing if it’s true is there?And who’d be willing to take the chance for a skirt that acts more dead than alive and stinks worse’n a pile of corpses for God’s sake.”
“Me.”
The tall one’s single word cut off the spate of sourness from Stelmen Viess.
Maggie felt her pulse speed up, like the night she’d tried to escape, pounding heavy and loud in her ears.
“I don’t know what you have in mind, Fletcher,” the captain began with worried caution, “but—”
“I’ll marry her.”
“What!”
“Ransom, are you crazy?”someone asked.
The tall one pushed away from the wall and came back to crouch by her side as he had before.She could feel him watching her, feel his breath against the side of her bent neck.
“Will you marry me, Maggie?”
The question confused her, reality and images blurred and blended.
He had traded the horses for her, hadn’t he?So he owned her by Indian ways.Those were clear.
