ACES WILD

By Andii Valo 

CHAPTER NINE

Ben Carter leaned in the doorway of the guardhouse and gazed out into the shadowy exercise yard. The sun had set a long while back and it was full dark inside the prison now. He was tense, twitchy and his eyes kept drifting towards the high security cell, barely seven yards away. He could see the dim flicker of candlelight inside and everything seemed calm, though he was sure it wouldn’t last. Earlier, Ben Wade had brushed past him as prisoners began moving towards their cells for eight o’clock curfew and muttered under his breath.

“Stay on your toes, Cartwright, and be ready to move.”

Ben looked over his shoulder at the clock on the wall inside the guardhouse. It read a little after nine. Captain Coughlan was behind his desk, writing a letter, and four other guards were sitting around and reading the daily reports. The place was quiet, orderly, and it only served to worsen his unease. He turned his face back towards the yard before anybody noticed his nervousness and Coughlan’s voice drifted across the room.

“You looking for something to do, Cartwright?”

Ben turned to face him. “No sir. Just taking the night air.”

Coughlan eyed him and Ben resisted the urge to squirm. He felt as though the man could see right through him and it took some strong resolve to keep his expression neutral and gaze steady.

“Take a turn around the yard if you need air; otherwise there’s plenty of reports which could use your attention.”

Ben nodded and seized his Winchester rifle. Anything was better than reading a pile of dull paperwork and it meant he could pass close to the high security cell without attracting attention.

He was halfway around the perimeter of the yard when he heard the noise he’d been dreading. There was a sudden crash of breaking glass, shockingly loud in the silence of the prison night, closely followed by somebody yelling. It was unmistakably Cort’s voice and it didn’t let up. Ben began running towards the cell, his heart hammering and stomach churning. He saw Captain Coughlan and the four others all hurtle from the guardhouse and by the time he reached the cell he was right at the back of a crowd of men. One of the guards was fumbling a key into the lock while, inside, Cort continued to yell a steady stream of obscenities. There was an overpowering smell of whisky and Ben could feel glass crunching under his feet. Desperate to see what was happening, he shoved his comrades out of the way and got a clear look through the barred window of the cell an instant before the guard pushed it open. What he saw made him feel a little nauseous. Ben Wade was on his bunk, struggling and cursing and Cort was on top of him, pounding him with his fists.

Ben was shoved aside in turn as the other guards all rushed inside. They seized Cort, hauled him off the bunk and he fought them all, trying the whole time to get back to Wade. They were having real trouble controlling him and Captain Coughlan grabbed Ben’s rifle, stepped forward and chose his moment carefully, slamming the butt of the weapon into Cort’s stomach just as he seemed about to break free. It only slowed him up a little but was enough for the guards to get a good grip on him.

“Take him into the yard and don’t let go of him!” Coughlan sounded breathless. He swung round to face Ben. “Fetch the irons and be sharp about it!”

Ben raced back to the guardhouse and grabbed a set of manacles and leg irons from their pegs on the wall. They were heavy and he struggled with their weight as he carried them out to the yard. The four guards had Cort pinned to the ground but he was still struggling like a demon and cursing them all at the top of his lungs. There were more guards up on the catwalk, pointing their rifles and yelling threats, but they were wasting their breath. Whatever had happened inside the cell had driven Cort well beyond the point of reason and rational thought. More guards were coming through the various strap iron gates which led into the yard, a couple of them holding lanterns, but all Ben could do was stand and watch with his jaw hanging open, appalled by the scene before him. The irons were snatched from his hands by two of the new arrivals, who then proceeded to chain Cort’s wrists and ankles. Once the restraints were in place the other guards let go of him and stood back. Cort struggled to his feet with difficulty then just stood there, glaring at them all, breathing hard and reeking of whisky. Eight guards formed a close circle around him and he sneered.

“It needs all of you cowardly fucks to beat on one chained man?”

He spat on the ground and one of the guards drove a rifle into his back, just above his right kidney. Cort grunted with pain and fell to his knees. Another man kicked him in the ribs and sent him sprawling. Ben prayed he wouldn’t try and get up again but was distracted by Captain Coughlan shouting his name. The Captain was beckoning him back to the high security cell and he hurried across, wondering what had happened now.

Ben Wade was lying on his bunk. His face was bone white, covered in livid wheals and coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Blood was tricking from his nose, lip and right temple and his breath was laboured and ragged. He was grimacing with pain and had his right hand clamped across his ribs. The Captain was sitting on the edge of Cort’s bunk, watching him intently, and another guard stood by the door; his rifle poised and ready. Coughlan looked up as Ben entered.

“Cartwright, I want you to inform the Governor of tonight’s events. Come back here directly with his instructions, though I’m pretty sure he’ll want to see the guilty parties.”

Wade snorted loudly. “I ain’t guilty of nothing. That son of a bitch got drunk and tried to kill me!”

Coughlan watched him carefully. “Where did he get the whisky?”

“Damned if I know.” Wade tried to push himself up on the bed, cursed quietly and gave up on the job.

“But he drank enough of it to fell a horse then decided he wanted to pick a fight.”

The Captain nodded. “You should go to the hospital, Wade.”

Wade shook his head and caught Ben’s eye for a fraction of a second. “Not until I’ve seen the Governor. He needs to hear the truth.”

Ben took that as his cue and left the cell with his head spinning. He could only imagine what had gone down earlier but Wade appeared genuinely hurt and Cort seemed to have lost his mind. He walked slowly past the group of guards in the yard, still clustered around Cort who was now sprawled on his back in the dirt. There was blood on his face and his eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving, seemed unconscious and right now oblivion was probably the best place for him. Ben picked up his pace and hurried through the maze of gates and passages towards the Governor’s office. He knocked twice, waited for the command to enter and then delivered his news.

Farleigh’s face darkened as he listened to the report and he issued orders swiftly. Both prisoners were to be brought before him, restrained and kept apart, and he wanted to see Captain Coughlan immediately. Not much had changed in the exercise yard on Ben’s return: Cort was still out cold but the guards surrounding him had relaxed and some were smoking cigarettes. Ben diverted to the guardhouse for a set of handcuffs and then headed back to the high security cell.

Coughlan was still there but now Wade was sitting up on his bunk with a cloth pressed to his face. The other guard was also present, rifle aimed and ready, and Ben relayed Farleigh’s instructions. The Captain stood up quickly. 

“Put those handcuffs on Wade then you and Jones here accompany him to the Governor. If he can’t walk then make sure you help him. What’s the situation with Thompson?”

Ben shrugged. “I think he’s unconscious, sir, but he’s restrained and guarded.”

Coughlan nodded curtly and then left the cell. Ben approached Wade’s bunk and jangled the handcuffs.

“You know the drill, Wade.”

Wade smirked and held out his wrists obligingly. Ben locked on the restraints and then stood back.

“Can you walk?”

“I can try.” Wade swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and tried to push himself up. The effort drained his face of all colour and he grimaced and cursed.

“I lost count of how many times that fucker punched me in the kidney. I’ll be pissing blood for the next six months!”

Ben nodded at the man called Jones and together they helped Wade to his feet. He walked slowly, gingerly, and Ben could hear breath whistling between his clenched teeth with every step he took. If he was acting then he was doing a damned fine job but somehow Ben doubted it. His stomach twisted at the thought of how he might genuinely be too badly injured to play any part in the escape plan, only twenty four hours away…

Wade slowed his pace even more as they passed the group of men in the exercise yard and he scowled at the chained, motionless figure on the ground. One of the guards threw a bucket of water over Cort but it took a long while before he reacted and appeared to slowly regain consciousness. Ben gripped Wade’s arm more firmly and urged him forward.

“Pick up your heels, Wade. We can’t keep the Governor waiting!”

In spite of their haste they still spent fifteen minutes outside the office while Farleigh spoke with Captain Coughlan. After that Wade was ushered inside and permitted to sit on a chair while Jones was dismissed with orders to fetch prisoner Thompson under heavy guard. Ben and the Captain stood discreetly in opposite corners of the room, hands on the grips of their side arms, while Wade was questioned.

Farleigh drilled him hard, demanding every detail of the fight with intimate clarity but Wade’s story was simple and he stuck to it with the tenacity of a man who’d been dreadfully wronged. Cortez Thompson had returned to their cell with a bad temper and bottle of whisky, which he’d proceeded to drink without offering his companion even a single drop. He’d gotten progressively more drunk and angry until an innocuous comment by Wade had pushed him over the edge. He’d thrown the bottle of hooch at the window then launched himself at his cellmate, pounding him with the relentless strength and endurance of a man who spent eight hours a day breaking rock. Wade had been powerless to resist and could only endure the assault and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

His story was smooth and plausible, heightened by the blood and bruises all over his face, and Ben had to keep reminding himself that this version of events was most definitely not what really happened. Farleigh questioned Wade with the ingenuity and finesse of an attorney at law, but every attempt to trip him up in his story failed. By the time they were done Wade was slumped in his chair and visibly wilting. Voices outside the door informed them the next party had arrived and Farleigh decided that two of the guards out there should accompany Wade to the hospital while the remainder stayed with Thompson, whom he considered extremely dangerous.

Coughlan stuck his head around the door and issued some curt orders. Two guards came in and helped Wade from his chair and out of the room. A moment later Cort was dragged inside by three other men. He was wet, bleeding and unsteady on his feet as he was positioned before the Governor’s desk. The guards stood behind him, rifles raised and he was not offered the comfort of a chair even though he was swaying alarmingly, weighed down by the heavy restraints and very likely a concussion. Farleigh watched him coldly, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

“You stink of whisky, prisoner. Where did you get that bottle?”

Cort stared at him and didn’t say a word. Farleigh tried again.

“I’ve had Wade’s side of the story so you may as well give yours. I’m a fair man and I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve heard all the facts. Where did you get that whisky?”

Cort snickered quietly. “You already made your judgement. Why should I even waste my breath?”

Farleigh’s fists clenched until his knuckles went white. He was fighting to remain calm. “Anything you say will have a bearing on the nature of your punishment, Thompson, so I’d strongly advise you to state your case.”

Cort shrugged. “That bottle belonged to Wade. I don’t know where he got it but there’s a regular supply of hooch to our cell and he drinks every night.”

Farleigh nodded. “And you don’t touch a drop, of course…”

Cort looked at him for a long moment then awkwardly pulled up his sopping wet tunic to reveal the red scar on his lower midriff, chains clanking loudly as he did so.

“I got that a year ago and it messed up my guts. I can’t drink hard liquor without puking and getting the shits. You smell whisky on account of Wade pouring it over me while I was sleeping, then he threw the bottle at the window.”

The Governor smiled with obvious disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

“To provoke me. He wanted a fight and by God he got one.”

“You hurt him bad, Thompson and he’s on his way to the hospital right now. So I’m compelled to ask, again, why a man would put himself through that.”

Cort scowled. “You’d have to ask him.”

The Governor leaned back his chair.

“I did ask him! I’m not particularly interested in the finer details of this sorry affair but everything I’ve heard so far points towards you as the instigator.”

“It’s a lie.” Cort’s voice was quiet and the Governor ignored him.

“We do not tolerate drunkenness or violence inside this prison, Thompson. Prisoners who fight are dealt with severely and we always make an example.”

His eyes flicked towards the guards flanking Cort and they stiffened and gripped their weapons more firmly. Ben exchanged an uneasy look with Captain Coughlan, who looked as unhappy as he felt. What was coming next would not be good for any of them…

Farleigh considered for a while and then fixed his gaze on Cort.

“Tomorrow morning at seven o’clock you’ll be brought to the exercise yard and flogged before every man in this prison. Six lashes for attacking and injuring your cellmate, six additional lashes for bringing contraband into this facility.”

Cort stared at him for a moment, as though stunned, then lurched quickly but unsteadily towards the desk.

“You’re a fucker, Farleigh. I should have shot you in Nogales instead of your buddy!”

The guards behind him grabbed his arms, hauled him backwards and he struggled with them, though the heavy chains impeded his movements. Farleigh for his part seemed only amused. When he spoke again his voice was smug.

“And a further three lashes for insubordination, which brings the current total to fifteen.” He smiled broadly. “You keep it up as long as you like, Thompson, but your back will feel the consequences come morning.”

Captain Coughlan stepped forward and he seemed anxious. “Governor, I believe we should review the facts before implementing such drastic measures. Everybody’s in a state of agitation right now, I think we should wait until things have calmed down and then reconsider.”

Farleigh looked at Cort, still struggling and swearing at his captors and shook his head slowly.

“Cortez Thompson is an animal, Captain, and he’ll be treated like one. Take him to the hole so he can fully consider the significance of tonight’s events in the darkness and cold. Tomorrow he’ll pay for them in full.”

ON TO CHAPTER 10

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