I woke up in a daze, my head swimming as if I were just waking up from a long night's worth of hard drinking. I don't know what Skaggs—or one of his cronies—had slipped me during my blackout, but from the sickly sweet smell that was permeating my nostrils and the rolling waves of nausea deep in my belly I could only assume that it had to have been chloroform in some form. It was only supposed to be used as anesthetic for severe surgeries, but I had no doubts that Skaggs was friendly enough with the local doctors to get ahold of a supply for his own personal use. What that use was I didn't know, but I'm sure it was something far more sinister than the general self-medicating that normal folks used it for.

 

The room I was in was hot, the air sticky with humidity. Someone had opened a window and forgotten to shut it. Down below it, the sounds of the the town began to pour in. Even early in the morning it was busy and bustling as always. The light filtering through the curtains was silvery, and the cool breeze causing them to flutter carried an earth smell on its back. Just like every other day during the summer here, we could expect a thunderstorm to hit before sundown. Hunched in one corner was an armoire, its mirror cracked and paint chipping. My bed for the evening was covered in a handsewn quilt, the once-white linen squares decorated with printed forget-me-nots. It looked like any other small-town boarding room.

 

I curled my legs up to stretch, and that’s when the pain hit me and left me gasping for breath. It seemed to be radiating from my lower back, sending shockwaves of pain up my shoulders and all the way down to the very tips of my toes. My first fear was that Skaggs had injured me in a way during our fight so as to leave me paralyzed. That made no sense though; if I was paralyzed, why would I still feel everything?

 

Gingerly I sat up, being much more careful now that I realized that there was an injury somewhere on me. I wasn’t trying to make it worse before I had a chance to assess the damage. Where had Mama been for all of this? She must’ve been worried sick by now. To call my mother overprotective would’ve been the understatement of a century; if so much as one of my sighs sounded off to her she’d immediately send for a doctor. I guess she couldn’t deal with losing me since she’d already lost Daddy. This must just be tearing her to pieces.

 

I was in the process of figuring out where the hell I was—a governor’s suite in Talbott Tavern, if you were wondering—when a pile of rumpled up clothing tossed carelessly into a corner caught my eye. Those were my clothes. But if my clothes were there…

 

Ignoring the pain this time, I ripped off the blankets to reveal a...dress? I was in a dress? I turned to the mirror to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, and I wasn’t; I was wearing a pretty yellow dress, complete with lacy ruffles at the cuffs and along the neckline. Red lipstick was crudely smeared on and around my mouth, staining my skin pink underneath. One strand of my hair fell shorter than the others, giving me the impression that someone might’ve cut it as a souvenir of whatever had happened last night.

 

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

 

The dress. The lipstick. The pain in my backside.

 

Skaggs had had his way with me when I’d been unconscious, and possibly other men as well. He’d probably told all of them that bought a to share for the evening and let them come and go as they pleased.

 

I scrambled out of bed then, not daring to allow myself to wonder if the heat was the only reason I was sticky, and hurriedly tore off my dress so I could put my own clothes back on. Bruises and bitemarks decorated the entire upper half of my torso, but I refused to let myself dwell on them. I didn’t want to know how they’d gotten there, nor who had put them there in much the same way I didn’t want to acknowledge that the rusty stains on the innermost petticoat were likely painted by my own blood. Right now, my only priority was finding Mama.

 

A few of the tavern’s other overnight guests were gathered around the coffee table in the parlor just outside of our rooms, and from the way they hushed up when I stepped out I was under the impression that they most likely had been gossiping about me. One man gave me a suggestive smirk and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but I didn’t stick around to find out what it might have been. I definitely wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries with some outsider at the moment. I instead fumbled my way down to the main lobby, wincing with every step. Note taken; I wasn’t going to be riding a horse comfortably anytime soon. My boots no sooner had hit the floor than the bartender told me, all without looking up, “Mrs. Lee is with Miss Rebecca. She said if I happened to see you to tell you that.”

 

With a grateful nod, I my heel and headed straight out the door.

  

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Mrs. Rowan’s driveway was all uphill, lined on either side by magnificent old elm trees. John Rowan Sr.’s former law office greets you at the very bottom, serving as the starting point on the climb ahead of you. It felt almost like climbing a great mountain despite it not being that steep, only instead of being reward with a panoramic view at the top you were met with the equally as beautiful mansion that they called Federal Hill. The red clay bricks were stacked three stories high, making it seem like the old house was reaching up to the heavens. Mr. Stephen Foster once wrote a song about it, but I think he might have been exaggerating a tad bit when he’d described it as a “little cabin” in one of his lines. Indeed this was not a cabin, but rather a castle that often served to house and protect many a powerful man inside. As was a common custom in Kentucky, a whitewashed tin star was hung between the top row of windows and the roofline. I’m not sure why people did this, but I’ve heard tell that it’s for good luck to all who pass under it. The star was more favored than the lesser common used horseshoe, because horseshoes could be turned upside down to spill out all the good luck that they collected.

 

Madge—the youngest of Rebecca’s 10 children, just a year older than I—must have been watching for me from the window of the formal parlor, because as soon as I crested that hill the lace curtains fluttered before she came rushing out towards me, golden hair and delicate skirts flying every which way. “Minnie! Minnie, we were so worried for you! Are you alright? Oh honey, your face is all black and blue!” she exclaimed as she got nearer, her voice high and clear as a silver bell.

 

I could do nothing but pull her into my arms for a hug, needing just a moment of comfort. Madge was a sweetheart of mine, one serious enough that I had all but proposed to her at this time, and just the scent of her familiar perfume helped to settle my nerves for the time being. With us already seeing each other as the other’s fiancée I’d daresay that she was the only one who would be as worried as Mama, if not moreso. “Madge, I—“

 

“No no, not a word! Minnie, look at you! We must get you cleaned up! Come along now!” Without giving me any chance to argue to she grabbed me by the hand, marching me straight up the stairs to her dressing room on the second floor. That was one thing I loved about this woman; she always found a way to take charge and get done what needed doing, propriety be damned. The wooden stairs behind us creaked a few minutes after she’d undressed me entirely and had started washing me with a wet rag, and when I turned to look over my shoulder I found myself face to face with both Mama and Miss Rebecca.

 

“Minhyuk, what happened to you?! You look like you’ve been mauled by a bear! What did you—?”

 

“Madge, you should know better than to bring an unmarried man into your boudoir! You should have asked for one of us to chaperone—“

 

Both women started in at the same time, their words blending together in a strange blur of English and Korean, and my head was left swimming as I struggled to translate both at once. Luckily, Madge stepped in before it went too far. “Mother, for shame! Obviously Minnie has had a very rough night out on the town, and I think caring for our guest is a bit higher of a priority than what is and isn’t considered proper. Don’t you think so? I’m a grown woman, and Minnie is a gentleman. We are more than capable of handling ourselves perfectly well while I tend to him. Why don’t you take Mrs. Lee back downstairs for another glass of tea? I’m sure there will be no complaints from either of you for having extended time to converse. We will join you momentarily.” With that, she pointedly shut the door in their faces to prevent any rebuttal from Miss Rebecca.

 

I couldn’t help but to stare at her in admiration, rendered completely speechless for the moment. “Madge, I—“

 

She silenced me by lightly splashing me with the water from her pitcher. “I love you too, although now you owe me the biggest diamond ring you can possibly find when you do finally propose,” she teased with a smile. “Now hold still so I can finish your bath.”

 

I instantly snapped to attention and held as still as a statue, hoping to get a laugh out of her. I instead received an eye roll and a warm smile, but that’s close enough for me. Madge’s touches were light as a feather, as if she were washing a delicate crystal glass rather than a person’s injuries. The minutes ticked by lazily in comfortable silence between us before she finally looked up to meet my gaze. “Minnie, what’s your word for beautiful?”

 

“Um...beautiful?” I questioned, laughing a bit. “I don’t have a different word for it, although a good synonym might be Madge Rowan.

 

She snorts before splashing me again. “I meant the word in Korean, you silly man.”

 

“Oh. Uh….” I had to rack my brain for several seconds, trying to remember. As I said earlier, Mama had been adamant from the time I was born that I spoke English and only English. Still, that didn’t mean I hadn’t picked up on a decent amount of words and phrases throughout the years. “Areum—areumdaun? Areumdawo? It’s something like that. I’m pretty sure that areumdaun only means beautiful, but areumdawo has multiple meanings like beautiful or nice. Don’t quote me on that, though.”

 

She makes a face at me. “What about pretty? Is that an easier word for you?”

 

“Pretty? Yeah, that’s easy. It’s yeppeo.”

 

“Yeppeo?” she checks, and when I nodded in approval she smiles brightly. “Then...Minnie is very, very yeppeo.” I couldn’t hide the blush that rose to my cheeks, and I must’ve made a face because she began to laugh.

 

“Yah!! Hush now. You’re...hush. Just hush.” I buried my face in my hands as my blush intensified and her laugh grew louder.

 

“I couldn’t help it. Men need to be complimented on their looks every now and then too.” She stands up and tosses a towel at me. “Dry yourself off while I go hunt for some clean clothes for you. We can’t have you walking around the house as as the day you were born, can we? Imagine the scandal!”

 

“Maybe I want to cause a scandal,” I quipped, securing the towel around my hips to give myself some semblance of modesty. Madge stuck her tongue out at me playfully before she slipped out of the room, her laugh carrying into the next room over.

 

God hasn’t exactly dealt me the best of hands in my life, but I do have to give him thanks for my woman. May he always smile down graciously on Madge Rowan.

 

Between the wardrobes of her brothers, her late father, and the former slaves, Madge was able to find an entire outfit that fit me before she sent me back downstairs to speak to Mama and Miss Rebecca. The two were seated on the bench of the piano in the formal parlor together, with Miss Rebecca trying to show Mama how to play the My Old Kentucky Home song I told you about earlier. The Rowans’ piano had always been an object of interest to me; its keys were crafted entirely of mother-of-pearl, and when the sun’s rays hit them just right they threw off rainbows pretty enough to match any opal’s.

 

Miss Rebecca was the first to notice me standing in the doorway, and with a polite smile she rose gracefully from her seat. “Well, it’s not my place to eavesdrop! I’ll leave you and your son to talk, Mina. Come and find me when you’re done. It’s much too late for you to go back to Hodgenville tonight, anyway. I insist you two stay here tonight.”

 

Too late? The stagecoach ran to Elizabethtown until 6, and the train until 9. It was early in the morning, wasn’t it?

 

But no, it turns out I was the one that was wrong. The grandfather clock standing proudly beside Miss Rebecca’s horsehair sofa informed me that it was closing in on half past 8. Madge’s bath had taken at least an hour, and the mansion was nearly a half-hour’s walk from the tavern. If that were the case, it meant I must’ve been asleep until 5:30 in the afternoon. What in the hell had those bastards slipped me to keep me down and out for so long?

 

While I was lost in thought Miss Rebecca finished up her conversation was Mama, and once I heard her dainty footsteps upstairs above us I sank down to sit beside Mama on the bench. She allowed me a moment’s peace, and then she began to pluck at my sleeve to get my attention. “Play. Play the song for me.”

 

The pastor at our church kept a piano for hymns during services, and when I’d shown interest in the music as a child he took the time to teach me a few of the songs from the worn old hymnal that he used every Sunday. I could only remember how to play one now, and that’s only because it’s Mama’s favorite and she demands to hear it if I come even remotely close to a piano. I took a moment to orient my hands properly, and then began to play the first few notes of Amazing Grace. The Rowans’ piano was much better kept and tuned than Pastor Barrow’s, and music flowed from it smoothly. She closed her eyes and smiled as she listened, swaying along to the familiar tune. When the song ended, she wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder. “Tell me what happened, my Minhyukkie. Who hurt you?”

 

I stared blankly at those iridescent keys for a long moment before tears welled up in my eyes. Angrily I wiped them away with the back of my hand. He didn’t deserve my tears. “It was the sheriff, Mama. We got in an argument and he knocked me out, and then he—“ I had to pause for a moment, choking on my words because I was so disgusted with both Skaggs and myself. “—he ed me, Mama. Him and maybe others, I don’t know. I can’t remember any of it, they just left me in that room and I woke up wearing a dress and makeup and—“

 

“Shhhh…” she hushed me, attempting to soothe me. She gathered me in her arms and began to comb my hair with her fingers, something she’d often done throughout my life whenever I’d get upset. Mama would always refuse to let me cut my hair short in the style of the other American men. She insisted that it had to be long, because it accentuated my face and made me pretty like the “flower boys” back home in Korea. I resented it now.

 

“He has wronged you, my son.”

 

“I know.”

 

“He has hurt you deeply, inside and outside.”

 

“I know, Mama.”

 

“Do you know what you must do now, Minhyuk?”

 

“No, Mama.”

 

Mama pulled back to study me with those piercing eyes of hers. There was something unfamiliar there now, something cold and dark that had me quaking in fear down to my very soul. She held that gaze for what felt like an eternity, not blinking and appearing to not even breathe.

 

“Mama…?”

 

My voice was apparently all it took to break the spell, because once I spoke she lurched forward to hug me tightly. She held me tightly for a second before craning upward to reach my ear, and in the softest of voices she whispered, “You must kill him, Minhyukkie.”