Page 6 of After 5
“If you screw up the past, Jake won’t let you travel again.”
I fidgeted and racked my brain for the names and dates of the people accused of witchcraft and hung in Salem. “I don’t recall this one. I thought the first hanging was on June 10th?”
“Jen, it happened. The history books don’t always have a correct accounting of the past. You have to get over the fact that things occurred in history that weren’t fair or humane.”
“I know but…”
“We’re here to watch our mark, arrest him if he steals or kills, period.”
The whiskey barrel hauled the young woman to the tree. The people threw rotten food at her and called her names.Sinner…Devil worshiper…witch.
The man with the bible stood on a fallen log, elevating him like the preacher at Sunday service. He shouted a passage to the crowd. The crescendo of his voice rose above the people, creating a frenzy of excitement throughout the crowd.
“I’ll risk it,” I said to him and pleaded with my baby blues. A girl’s gotta use what a girl’s got to use.
He rolled his eyes heavenward, huffed, and relented. His shoulders sagged and he mumbled. “OK, I’ll see what I can do, but you’d better be ready to leave as soon as I free the girl. These people are going to be upset they didn’t see a good show.”
“Thanks.” I leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek.
We scanned the area, searching for the best possible place to cause a diversion so Marco could free the young woman.
She stepped up onto a short platform built directly under the tree. The crowd grew quiet, waiting for the last words from the woman found guilty of witchcraft.
“I am not a witch,” she shouted to the crowd.
The people cried out at her. “Speak thy Lord’s Prayer.” And “The devil has possessed her.”
I hoped Marco made his decision quickly. The crowd was growing intense.
“I’m going to take the right side and grab her before he pushes her off the platform. You stay close so we can get out of Dodge immediately after,” Marco said.
As we made our way closer to the stage, I bumped into a stooped, cloaked woman. She turned toward me, her wise blue eyes peering at me from under her hood.
“Pray thee, pardon,” I said to her.
She smiled and her eyes twinkled. A feeling of déjà vu struck me. I shrugged it off and the old woman made her way through the crowd. Everyone wanted a front row seat.
Marco and I moved closer. We had to hurry for Marco to reach her in time.
Whiskey Barrel served as the executioner. He reached for the rope.
Marco moved, ready to spring into action.
Before Marco could make his move, and before Whiskey Barrel could slide the noose around her neck, Toches tackled the man.
Toches, Whiskey Barrel, and the young woman fell off the platform and tumbled head over tail into a roll down the short hill, ending at the haycart.
Marco and I stood slack-jawed along with the angry onlookers.
A uniform gasp sounded from the crowd, followed by whispers of the devil. I added my gasp as Toches had regained his footing and held up a Bic lighter.
The crowd took a step back at the sight of the small fire flickering from his fist.
He proceeded to set the hay in the cart on fire.
The fire caught quickly and spread to the cart, creating a billow of smoke. Through the smoke, I saw the young woman retreat into the woods alongside the cloaked figure I bumped into earlier. Maybe the old woman was a relative of the girl. Good for her.
Toches vanished behind the veil of smoke, and I assumed he’d made a break for wherever he’d come from.
