The old man said, “Does this mean you ain’t gonna shoot me?”

Nineteen
Cowikee’s Railcar

The abandoned railway car sat in the woods, covered in thick straw that fell from the tall pines surrounding it. The wheels were rusted. The wood sides were weathered and dry. Marigold had never seen this monstrosity before, and she’d been living in these woods for months now. She’d been wandering the creeks and the shoreline of the sprawling bay but had never seen this old place. It was as though an unseen hand had dropped it in the woods.

She heard voices coming from inside the car. Loud, husky voices. She heard the sounds of boots on a hollow floor. She heard laughter.

Men entered and exited like ants in an anthill. Marigold stood far away, behind a pine, watching.

The gray boards on the railcar bore large faded yellow letters that spelled Cowikee Mills Cotton. Men in stained clothes, crumpled hats, and worn shoes walked into the railcar. They entered with strong steps; they left the place staggering.

Her head hurt and her eyes ached. She’d been starving for months now, couldn’t remember what it felt like not to have a hollow stomach.

She dusted her dress, which had grown too big for her. Then she let down her hair. She combed the knots with her fingers and clumps came out in her hands. She could only imagine how hideous she looked. She drew in a quick breath and pinched the white out of her cheeks like her mother used to do on Sunday mornings.

Marigold had once asked her mother why she pinched her cheeks when she put on her Sunday clothes.

“’Cause,” her mother had explained, “girls is supposed to have red cheeks. Makes ’em look pretty.”

Once, Marigold had spent an entire afternoon pinching her cheeks in front of her mother’s vanity to make them red. She’d accidentally bruised her face and cheek muscles so bad she couldn’t smile for three days.

Cowikee’s was a lonesome place that looked like it was nearly falling apart. But the closer she got, the more life she heard inside it. She walked toward it like a woman instead of a girl. There was a difference between the loose-limbed gait of a girl and the sure-footed stride of a woman. Men could tell the difference between the two. There was confidence in women that girls did not have.

The car was big. A large clapboard cabin had been built onto the back of it with a corroded tin roof spanning over both structures. The years had faded the wood siding into a dirty brown. Green mold and mildew covered the paned windows.

When she entered Cowikee’s, the eyes of men landed on her. The mood changed in the room. She could feel their thoughts. Their laughter faded. Some men wore smirks. She was frightened. But she was less frightened than she was hungry.