Liars And Thieves

Chapter 19

Grace could see sunlight filtering through the sack when she felt the wagon came to a hard stop. She heard the driver jump down from the driver's seat.

"Boys! Gather around!" He called out. Grace heard him walk around towards the back, she could make out his shadow ushering them over. Grace felt herself being pushed harshly off of the lap of one of the Lemoyne Raiders before her arms were gripped and she was dragged out of the wagon. She quickly caught herself, managing not to fall out of the wagon. 

"Who's that?" A deep yet curious voice questioned. Grace could see a few shadows though the sack, seeing a few of who knows how many people had gathered over. 

"The little bitch who stabbed Phil and killed the rest," The driver explained with a gruff voice. The deep voice broke into a laugh.

"We're gon' have fun wit her!"

"Not unless I say so!" A third voice rang out. The voice sounded further away. "What are you doing? Take that damn thing off of her," the voice boomed with an order. The sack was removed from Grace's head within a heartbeat. She looked around to see herself in a swampy location, a lot swampier than Clemen's Point. Grace's eyes locked onto an old yet beautiful Plantation house. It looked like it had been standing for centuries however it was overgrown with weeds wrapping around the posts. Grace finally spotted the man who had called out. He was crossing towards them from the house, wearing a dark black duster coat that was very worn. He wore a black cap, a red patch on the top. The hat was faded, the top turning orange in colour from the sun. This man wasn't scrawny like majority of the Lemoyne Raiders, he looked well fed. He looked intimidating with his black beard that covered the lower half of his face and a scar running across over his right eye. He scanned Grace, before turning to Phil. "You certain it's her?"

"Of course I am! She stabbed me for god sake!" Phil hissed. The man stared at Phil, his eyes turning vicious. 

"Talk to me like that again, I dare you," he threatened. Phil walked away, knowing not to argue with the man. Grace was still confused on who he was. The man turned to Grace. "You know, I don't appreciate you killin' my men. Tell me, Miss. What should I do with you?" The man questioned, his voice stern as he questioned her. Grace stared at him, not saying a word. His eyes flicked to the cut on her lip, bringing up a thumb and wiping her blood off. Grace tried to flinch away but she was held still by the man she was forced to sit on. "Pretty little thing, ain't ya. I'd like to know why a lady like you is riding on her own."

Grace bit down hard on his thumb, tasting blood. He grunted in pain, ripping his thumb away. Grace was pleased to see his blood spilling out of his thumb before spitting his blood onto his coat. The man looked at his coat to see the blood Grace had spat before chuckling evilly. 

"Feisty little thing, ain't she?" He chuckled to the man who was holding her. He laughed with the man before out of nowhere he brought a fist to her stomach, causing her to hunch over in pain, the man holding her grabbed her hair on the top of her hand, forcing her back up. The man looked furious, a lot closer to Grace now. "My name is Oliver and I lead the Lemoyne Raiders. I simply do not tolerate shit from the likes of you," he hissed. His dark green eyes pierced into hers. "You're going to tell me who you are and what you're doing out here, roaming on your own when this is Lemoyne country." Grace continued to stay quiet, not peeping a noise. She heard his revolver click as he removed it from his holster, aiming it at her stomach. "Go on," he hissed challenging her. 

"I'm nobody," she spat, leaning forward slightly. An annoyed look appeared on Oliver's face and the man behind her pulled her head back up. Grace groaned in pain and froze when she heard Oliver pulled the trigger. Her eyes widened in horror, realising she wasn't injured. Her breathing quickened. 

"Oh, did I forget to mention I only have one bullet in the chamber? Next time you may not be so lucky," Oliver warned, waving around the revolver. He pressed the barrel against her gut again. "Now, be honest this time."

"Grace." Grace answered quickly. "My name is Grace," Grace answered calmly this time. Oliver grinned slightly, holstering his gun and relief grew inside of Grace. 

"Grace," Oliver repeated. "I like that," he continued before pacing small steps in front of her, his hands behind his back. "You see, Grace. I know exactly who you are but it's good to see you could play my game with me," Oliver explained, a small sly grin on his lips. Grace felt the man let go of her hair, her head going back to it's usual position as she stared at Oliver. "You're a Van der linde. You see, we woke with Catherine Braithwaite and she sure as shit knows who you and... I think her name is Sadie? Anyway, she knows who you are and she knows your little friends are working with the Grays."

Grace felt furious and she knew there was nothing she could do. This whole time Catherine knew who they all were and she had just been staying quiet. Grace knew however that she wouldn't stay quiet for much longer. Oliver looked past her to the man behind her. 

"Go tie her up somewhere would you? Oh and Mike, make sure she doesn't get fed. And make sure she isn't in the house, keep her in the camp so the boys have some sort of amusement," Oliver ordered. Mike nodded, shoving her hard in the shoulder. She stumbled before walking in the direction he ordered her to go. Mike walked her into the small camp set out beside the Plantation house, getting many looks from everyone including Phil who was having a drink. Mike took the rope around her wrists and attached them to a looped rope that was tied around a tent post. She sat down in the dirt, looking around. Mike walked away to go join more of the gang. Grace couldn't help but feel awkward from all the eyes on her, she knew that it was only going to get worse from here and there was nothing she could do. Grace looked around for anything that she could use, a shard of glass. Anything would be helpful at this point but to her disappointment there was nothing in her reach. 

"And who is this, Mike?" A voice asked Mike as he approached Grace. Grace spotted Mike pushing himself away from the tree he lent against, following his friend. 

"She's a Van Der Linde," Mike explained as the man stopped in front of her. "You know, that gang?" 

"Yeah. Yeah I know 'em. What's Oliver gon' do wit' her?" The man asked. He looked a lot older than Mike. 

"Who knows. She bit him, he ain't happy about that. He has requested no one feeds her," Mike raised his voice, allowing everyone around to take note. A few heads nodded as Mike lowered his voice back down to the man. "I don't think her gang knows where we are though, so we shouldn't have anyone come and attempt to get her," Mike continued. 

"Oliver likes the feisty ones," The man pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Grace winced in disgust. "Does Catherine know we got her?"

Mike shook his head. "Not that I am aware of. No need to be bothered by her, she can't get anywhere," Mike assured, motioning to the ropes. The man looked down, nodding. 

"Alright. Well, thank you for the introduction," The man thanked Mike while looking at Grace.

"Fuck you," Grace hissed. The two men chuckled as they walked away. Grace tried to tug at the ropes but they didn't budge. Grace sighed before blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Grace sure as hell had learned her lesson to not leave the camp without anyone knowing where she was going or without someone with her.