Unpaid Bill

Kinney County, Texas, 1862

Frederick “Fritz” Tegener, leader of the ULL March, made the call to make camp not far off of the banks of the Nueces River. The sun’s light, or lack thereof, cast a raw, pink-orange glow over the sky as it retreated to the west.

Dewey felt relief wash over him as the message cascaded to the back of the general, albeit sloppy formation. They had been traveling for just over six hours south toward Mexico—and still no sign of the Greys. Dewey believed this to be a good thing, however Rudolf, who had never been a superstitious man, felt that their trek may have been doomed from the start. 

The initial flight was just that—an avoidance of “duty” that came in the form of The Confederate Conscription Act of 1862. 

…

“Duty.”, Rudolf muttered upon seeing the first of the pamphlets; that first glance sent sparks through his body, and the goose pimples that sprang up felt warm along his arms. He wasn’t sure whether this was a result of rage or disgust.

One’s eye immediately catches the crudely drawn “American Negroe”, pictured in chains between two Confederate soldiers—-ll grins and thumbs up. A chained collar hung around the neck of the illustrated captive—the other end of the chain held loosely in the hand of one of the young men in the foreground. The true outrage to Rolf came from the implication of animalistic depiction of what he in his mind saw as his son, Dewey.

The “American Negroe” held a buck toothed grin composed of two pale yellow chits starkly contrasting scarlet oversized lips, curled upward in a dopey grin. Above that was a cartoonishly large nose—apt for the medium, but ultimately “a bit much”, Rudolf would think—finding at least a wry humor in the ignorance of the Confederate propaganda’s artwork.

When a line was finally drawn in the sand, it was made clear that the members of the German and Alsatian communities would need to pick a side; join the confederacy or die with the Union; the men that formed the ULL, as well as a couple dozen others, headed for Mexico.

The decision to join the company’s march south was a hot debate in the Fink household, wherein its members tried to decide the best course of action, in a democratic way.

…

“Surely you’re joking?” Lúnda scoffed, her eyebrows nearly kissing between three neatly defined wrinkles. “we cannot stay here. Rudolf.”

She left a pregnant pause in the air, locked eyes with Fink, and used her own to point out her real concern; Dewey. It was on the tips of both of their tongues, but their concerns were split down the middle, evenly at odds.

Dewey, whose taste for adventure was quickly quelled by the fear in Lúnda’s eyes, which darkened upon hearing Rudolf’s plan, laid quietly in his bed, and pretending not to listen. 

“At the post, I spoke with Frau Gná—don’t repeat that,” Rudolf paused, shooting a look at Dewey, “she said that most everyone is staying, that conscription is too heavy a task for them to force upon all of us.”

Lúnda, skeptical, listened.

“Tegener, he leads the ULL here—Unionist Loyal League—they plan to march south, to Mexico.” Rudolf continued, crossing their combined living and bedroom in the tiny apartment above Der Klein Lager, and kneeling down next to Lúnda at her sewing table. “If I truly believed there was any other way…”

To Lúnda, there were two options: remain in town and run the store, treat Dewey as though he were property (should the inquisitive eyes of any Grays come along), and hope that Rudolf can’t be conscripted. The alternative? A long march south, one Dewey might not be ready for—the idea that gunfire, which might blow out his eardrums or the heavy weight of the Texas heat, which would drain the boy dry. Death was everywhere, but to whom it would turn its eye remained a mystery.

“So, we march.”, Lúnda would concede—a moment that she would remember in the aftermath of the assault led by “Duff”; when the clutch of dirt she’d grabbed in a final act of desperation passed the burden of mythology to Dewey.

…

When the sun finally set and darkness gave way to shade, the sound of the company’s footfalls gave way to the sound of restful conversations. Dewey listened from the Fink tent, aptly named Der Kleiner Zelt by Lúnda in an attempt to remind Dewey, and in her own way, Rudolf, of the home that she hoped to return to someday. 

“Tally them for me Ludwig!”, Dewey heard someone exclaim. “I’ll fill a hole with more Grays than every churchyard in Texas has graves!”, they continued, and he felt admiration for the men whose confidence stood in for honesty. The words were ridiculous, sure, because no man could accomplish such a task, but it was how sure one could be of anything. He tried again to drift off, again unsuccessful, unable to find a wave to carry him to sleep.

Rudolf observed this struggle, internal as it was, from across Der Kleiner Zelt. He’d lightly nudged Lúnda, hoping for a whispered conversation—and reassurance of the boy’s well-being, if Rudolf was being truly honest with himself—but she was unfazed and her light snoring confirmed that she’d planned on doing nothing more than sleeping as best as she could this particular night, and so Rudolf tried to do the same, blissfully unaware that sleep wouldn’t be coming that night.

Bexar County, Texas, 2010

As Scarlet racked her brain for another song to tap the tune of with her fingers, she leaned on the jewelry counter of Rachel’s Closet, the department store where she felt that she wasted most of her evenings. Between the boredom of the job itself—which boiled down to flattering elderly women into buying tacky jewelry—and her cloying manager, Jacinda, who absolutely loved telling anyone who had to listen to her to “put on a happy face”, Scarlet wondered if she was actually in Hell, purgatory, or experiencing some other eternal damnation by another name. “Nah,” she thought, “I just have a shitty job.”

“Uh-oh, no leaning!” a sing-songy voice announced from behind Scarlet. She rolled her eyes as she stood and turned to see Jacinda standing at the countertop behind her. Standing at 5’1”, she was often the shortest person in the room. Below a crown of cropped, feather-cut gray-gold hair, her face was regularly caked with enough makeup to make Tammy Faye blush. If Scarlet didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that she was staring at Mimi Bobeck in the flesh, or perhaps Clown, pre-Violator transformation.

“We want our customers to see our pretty jewelry, don’t we?” Jacinda continued, flipping through a clipboard on the countertop in front of her.

“Yeah, no—definitely!” Scarlet said, her best “work smile” in full effect. She prayed that Jacinda wouldn’t stick around trying to make small talk, and shot a quick glance at the clock on the small computer screen used to process orders and purchases.

“9:52”, Scarlet thought. “Eight minutes. Please don’t st-“.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this!” Jacinda squealed. “So last night we had our Family Game Night, me and Jim and my girls. They don’t always love it but the family that plays together stays together!”, she continued, laughing at her own made up idiom.

Scarlet pretended to listen as she fingered the dark crystal pendant that hung on a necklace that she wore, a gift from an ex, or someone soon to be. 

“Last night was Jim’s night to pick—of course, Scrabble, AGAIN! So there we are, me, Jim, Tiffany, Jim Jr. and Jessica, and damn it, these girls just…” she threw her arms up in a playful, exasperated gesture, shaking her head. “You know what Jessica had the nerve to put on that board?” She looked around, making sure no customers were around to her, then cupped one hand around her mouth. “Seeeex”, she told Scarlet in a long whisper, her face almost distressed.

“Oh jeez—I—wow,” Scarlet started, blowing a raspberry and doing her best to feign interest and concern for a few minutes. “What ended up happening?”

“Well after I dang near hollered my head off, putting such unchristian thoughts in everyone’s head—on Family Game Night? Jim just shook his head while Jim Jr. giggled with Tiffany. I know she’s almost a woman, 17 and all that, but she still ain’t one yet!” Jacinda said, checking off a few items across different pages on her almighty clipboard. “So, you closing with us tonight? We’d love the extra hands.”

“I am actually getting off in…” Scarlet dragged out the last part, a small effort to hear as little else from Jacinda as possible. “Now!” she exclaimed with a smile, unpinning her name tag from the navy blue uniform vest.

“That’s not very Rachel,” Jacinda said, cocking her head with a straight face. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“Well, right now, I’m kind of helping out my sister with her kids—babysitting more than anything— so I just generally like to be available for her”, Scarlet said, removing her vest. “Sor-ry”, she said in a sing-song voice, as she punched out on the computer by the register.

“Alrighty, have a nice night ma’am,” Jacinda said unenthusiastically as she coasted away, in search of a new victim. “We’ll see you next time!”

Scarlet grabbed her bag from beneath the counter, and hustled toward the store’s exit like a soldier escaping from behind enemy lines. She pushed the door open, and the summer air hit her—a stark contrast to the store’s chilly interior. She unlocked her phone, and scrolled through her messages. 

Whitney: Sean said there all going to a party . Like a rave or something, might be fun?? Lmk ❤

Scarlet paused, horses held at the thought of running into Sterling, with whom Whitney’s current boy-toy was almost certainly with.

“Fuck it.”, she said aloud, then quickly checked her surroundings to make sure she didn’t outwardly appear as crazy as she felt for going along with this.

Scarlet: Yeah lol, let’s go

Whitney: On my way !!

When Whitney would finally arrive—Earth shattered bass and tire treads in tow—the mostly empty parking lot had all eyes on her. Most people would have been surprised to see who was behind the wheel. Scarlet was long past that.

In front of the used book store two doors down from Rachel’s Closet, Whitney arrived and beeped the horn twice; Scarlet joined her on a journey into night.