Thread: Take the Money and Run (Madam Mim and CaptainPeriwinkle)

Paradise...ha! Whoever had named this town either had a cruel sense of humor or had no idea what it would become. It was as if someone had taken the worst of the worst from the slums and gutters of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston, and dumped them in the middle of nowhere out west, trapping them all together in one tiny little shit-splat town. It was like a trap built for people who had come out on nothing but a few hundred dollars and a dream. Lenora and her husband had been those people once. They had been young and in love and, with her father's blessing, had started out west from Virginia on their way to California where they'd heard gold ran as freely as water in those clear, untouched rivers. They'd gotten married in Mississippi, the last state in the union at that time, geographically speaking they both came from poor families and Leroy had promised her father he'd marry Lenora on their way out to California. Lenora had written home and sent a copy of their marriage license with it to prove that he'd made good on his word. Her father had said that if they weren't married within six months he'd track them down and come all the way to California if he had to in order to retrieve his daughter. But no, Leroy had been a good man then. Lenora had long known that her husband was no longer a good man, but what could she do about it? She had taken a vow, til death do us part, and even if she did leave he'd find her. Leroy had ways. He knew people. The Browns had never made it out to California. Their wagon wheel had broken and they'd been able to limp into Paradise to stay overnight until their wagon was fixed. But Paradise was far from anywhere and upon learning that the axle was broken as well, they became resigned to the fact that they had to wait for the part, so overnight turned into a week. Then two weeks. It was a month and a half before the parts finally came. By then the troubles had already started. Paradise had pulled Leroy into its grip by then. He had discovered the tastes of whiskey and moonshine...and women. Other women. Viceful women. In the three years since, he had become a violent, womanizing drunkard who beat his wife more often than he kissed her. He'd found work as a pimp and often sampled the wares he peddled. Lenora stayed at home, making meals he only came home to eat about half the time. She often wondered how long it would take for him to notice she was missing if she ever got up the courage to leave. But then he would hunt her down, find her, and make her sorry. Maybe even kill her. Tonight she had come to see him at work, to beg him to come home for the night. That hadn't gone the way she had intended. Now she leaned against the backside of a brothel in the shadows of an alley, trying to control her tears. More crying just meant more pain in the bruise blossoming at her cheekbone and around her eye. The only thing Leroy was good for anymore was that she knew if another man touched her, or even looked at her slantways, he'd kill him. Still, that didn't keep her from being afraid of the kind of men who drunkenly stumbled down alleys at this time of night.