‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
62
Taylor woke up sometime in the night hearing heavy footsteps. He’d come to recognise the sound of Ibby, Siemme, Tranu and Lukka’s footfalls, so he knew that it wasn’t them. When the footsteps stopped at his gate, he looked up.
The gate opened and he saw a middle aged Mexican standing there. He recognised him from the breakfast hall but hadn’t seen him anywhere else. Behind him were another three men roughly about the same age. They all made their way into the stall, the first one grabbing Taylor by the shoulder and roughly pulling him to his feet. Taylor groaned as he quickly tried to wake himself up, only absently noticing the stench of alcohol on the man’s breath.
They spoke in Spanish to each other as one of them disconnected Taylor’s chain before he was dragged out of the stall. He didn’t begin to panic until he saw where they were going. He looked up to find himself in the stable yard, the firelight burning around and spectators galore.
“No, no, no!” he dug his heels into the dirt.
When they realised he was resisting he was shoved down into the dirt face first. Two of them circled him, yelling in Spanish, as the third grabbed the chain and pulled upward. Taylor’s hands flew to the collar, trying to hold it so his neck didn’t twist from the pressure even as it pulled him to his feet again. He was caught off guard by one of the men hitting him across the face.
He cried out in surprise, and would have fallen to his knees if the collar hadn’t have kept him up.
“Please don’t, please don’t…” he was saying under his breath as he was dragged by the neck toward the pole.
The two who’d been circling him’s voices were raising to shouts, only making him panic more. They almost seemed to be trying to demand something of him, but of course Taylor had no idea what any of them were saying. When one of them got in his face so close that he was spitting, he lost it.
“I don’t know what you’re saying!” he exclaimed with desperation, “I don’t know Spanish! Please! Let me go!”
He had the wind knocked out of him as he was thrown against the pole, one of the men grabbing his wrists and chaining them together on the other side. Suddenly he felt someone grab his hair and shove his head against the pole, dazing him. A trickle of blood from his forehead left a trail like a red tear down the side of his face.
When the chains were secure he was left there, tentatively holding his head against the pole. He could feel himself shaking, and when he heard the test crack of the whip he squeezed his eyes shut.
A moment later, a gunshot rang out.
Taylor froze as he listened to a woman’s voice screaming Spanish orders. His eyes opened only when he realised it was his Mistress. He looked over his shoulder to see her holding a handgun pointed in the air as she yelled at the suddenly sheepish men. When she lowered the gun at one of them, they rushed over to unchain Taylor’s wrists. He noticed for the first time the machete in the man’s belt. Not breathing any easier he hugged himself once he was free.
She made her way over to him, taking the chain of his collar into her other hand as she continued to yell. Taylor’s eyes hit the ground, knowing that whatever happened this night was going to be because of him.
When her voice had lowered to her normal tones, she gave a tug on his leash as a signal to get moving. He obediently followed her out of the yards, giving a subtle glance up to where he knew Ibby, Siemme, Tranu and Lukka must have been watching. Watching, and unable to help.
He followed her in silence all the way back up to the study.
The gate opened and he saw a middle aged Mexican standing there. He recognised him from the breakfast hall but hadn’t seen him anywhere else. Behind him were another three men roughly about the same age. They all made their way into the stall, the first one grabbing Taylor by the shoulder and roughly pulling him to his feet. Taylor groaned as he quickly tried to wake himself up, only absently noticing the stench of alcohol on the man’s breath.
They spoke in Spanish to each other as one of them disconnected Taylor’s chain before he was dragged out of the stall. He didn’t begin to panic until he saw where they were going. He looked up to find himself in the stable yard, the firelight burning around and spectators galore.
“No, no, no!” he dug his heels into the dirt.
When they realised he was resisting he was shoved down into the dirt face first. Two of them circled him, yelling in Spanish, as the third grabbed the chain and pulled upward. Taylor’s hands flew to the collar, trying to hold it so his neck didn’t twist from the pressure even as it pulled him to his feet again. He was caught off guard by one of the men hitting him across the face.
He cried out in surprise, and would have fallen to his knees if the collar hadn’t have kept him up.
“Please don’t, please don’t…” he was saying under his breath as he was dragged by the neck toward the pole.
The two who’d been circling him’s voices were raising to shouts, only making him panic more. They almost seemed to be trying to demand something of him, but of course Taylor had no idea what any of them were saying. When one of them got in his face so close that he was spitting, he lost it.
“I don’t know what you’re saying!” he exclaimed with desperation, “I don’t know Spanish! Please! Let me go!”
He had the wind knocked out of him as he was thrown against the pole, one of the men grabbing his wrists and chaining them together on the other side. Suddenly he felt someone grab his hair and shove his head against the pole, dazing him. A trickle of blood from his forehead left a trail like a red tear down the side of his face.
When the chains were secure he was left there, tentatively holding his head against the pole. He could feel himself shaking, and when he heard the test crack of the whip he squeezed his eyes shut.
A moment later, a gunshot rang out.
Taylor froze as he listened to a woman’s voice screaming Spanish orders. His eyes opened only when he realised it was his Mistress. He looked over his shoulder to see her holding a handgun pointed in the air as she yelled at the suddenly sheepish men. When she lowered the gun at one of them, they rushed over to unchain Taylor’s wrists. He noticed for the first time the machete in the man’s belt. Not breathing any easier he hugged himself once he was free.
She made her way over to him, taking the chain of his collar into her other hand as she continued to yell. Taylor’s eyes hit the ground, knowing that whatever happened this night was going to be because of him.
When her voice had lowered to her normal tones, she gave a tug on his leash as a signal to get moving. He obediently followed her out of the yards, giving a subtle glance up to where he knew Ibby, Siemme, Tranu and Lukka must have been watching. Watching, and unable to help.
He followed her in silence all the way back up to the study.