Dutch Chick.

"This ain't no frisker," he said, tossing the sobbing woman at me. "I'm going back to get my piece from that tow head. I done paid for it. You keep he... here and leave her be. I want to talk to her." Yes sir," I said to him with a pass at a salute since a stranger was about.The woman sat on a stump, produced a kerchief and wiped her eyes. Then she looked up at me, angry. "What are you looking at, you big mule?" she demanded.I smiled at her, and she got even more red in the face. She stood, put. Why was I doing this dangerous and odious thing? That was a question I couldn't answer even as my stomach clenched up from the nerves. But I knew I couldn't back out, not now. I'd do it. I was being driven by something inside me, something I didn't know, something I don't think I wanted to know, something dark that I was afraid of."Turn left," she said, and I did, obediently. Isn't that odd? I refuse to listen to the collective wisdom of society but I'll obey every little whim of a talking. More

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