Nor Warrior, Nor Priestess: Swamp Series

By Buffy Monroe

"The divorce was brutal and although she was prepared for the dissolution of her marriage, she was not prepared for the court to take everything from her."

 

Kiki's friends draw around her protectively as she mourns her old life, especially her beloved pets that her abusive ex-husband will never let her have back. Imagine her surprise when the next morning dawns with the return of those pets!

 

Now, with her dogs and horse close by her side, she is running through the wildest parts of the Everglades, intent on making a new life far away from his reach. While there, she encounters other wounded souls scattered through the sticky swamps and intent on their own healing.

 

When life becomes good and she has mastered living off the land, she is approached with a plea: gather the swamp dwellers together and lead them safely through the violence that threatens to destroy the world outside their borders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Buffy Monroe
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201208998

Book preview

High Noon

She was wounded. Not physically, but spiritually. The divorce was brutal and although she was prepared for the dissolution of her marriage, she was not prepared for the court to take everything from her. It was decided that she owed him everything she had ever owned, for the judge determined that she never contributed to the marriage and he had paid for everything. He was awarded the house and property, and even her beloved horse and show dogs.

Her spirit bled from the wound as she got into the little car that a neighbor had let her borrow. No tears flowed yet, but they wouldn’t wait long. She was determined that she wouldn’t let him see her crying as she left.

Five long years of marriage to her husband taught her how to not cry. He enjoyed seeing her tears too much. Not at first, mind you. No, at first, he was the perfect man. Kind, caring, gentle. He wooed her with attention and devotion. Their courtship was the proper amount of time – a full year before he proposed. But once they were engaged, he began to do things that made her uncomfortable. Little things at first. A barbed comment that would hurt her feelings, or a remark about how her friends were using her. Then came the pressure to have sex more often, and in ways that made her uncomfortable. By the time they were married, she was used to giving him sex every night, the pain of it lingering sometimes into the next morning. She was alienated from her family, who he said were toxic for her. She had no friends, because he didn’t approve of them. And he had pushed her to quit her job at the veterinarian clinic because he felt that she wouldn’t respect him if he couldn’t take care of her.

After three years, the windows were nailed shut and she was locked in the house every night. She knew then that there was no way to avoid the truth.

She was a prisoner of her husband.

It was still two more years before she could work up the courage, and the money, to leave him. After all, she had no job, no family, and no friends. There was nowhere for her to go.

She started to read palms for money. After a couple years, she had become popular around their small town and hid enough cash to put a deposit on a studio apartment and start the divorce proceedings. After so many years as a prisoner, she was finally free.

Kiki walked quickly from the Atlanta courthouse. As she reached for the car door handle, her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. She answered it as she settled into the driver’s seat.

Hey, Kiki. How’d it go? It was her neighbor, the kind woman who had lent her the car. That simple question was all it took for the tears to begin and she unloaded her troubles on Angela-from-upstairs.

And now, I don’t even get to keep my horse or dogs and I miss them so much! she choked through the sobs. Angela made soothing sounds into the phone and told her, Come on home, then, dear. We need to think about this and work something out. Kiki gave a hiccup and nodded, unseen to the older woman on the other end of the phone.

Ok, I’ll be there in about half an hour, she told Angela. It was something the older woman insisted on, knowing how long Kiki was going to be gone. If she took any longer than a half an hour to get home from the courthouse, then Angela would call the police to look for Kiki. Angela knew that a person as controlling as Kiki’s now-ex-husband was unpredictable. She knew people kidnapped their spouses to regain control. Kiki hung up and took a deep breath, then started the car and drove home to her miniscule apartment.

Angela was waiting by Kiki’s door as she pulled into a parking spot up front. Kiki gave a little wave and wearily stepped out of the car. As she was locking up Angela’s little Toyota, her phone rang. Panic sang through her as the screen showed her now-ex-husband’s phone number.

She had never given him her number! What frightened her the most was that it was registered under Angela’s wife’s name! How did he get the phone number?

Kiki looked up at Angela, stupefied as to what she should do with the maniacally ringing phone in her hand. Angela understood something was wrong and hurried down the stairs to take it from her numb fingers.

It’s him, isn’t it? she asked Kiki quietly. All Kiki could do was nod.

Angela touched the screen and brusquely said, Yes, hello. Kiki couldn’t hear what he said, but she could hear his muffled voice and it sent her into an anxiety attack. Her stomach clenched and her fingers and toes tingled. As she started to hyperventilate, ready to run blindly away, Angela’s wife Brandy appeared and gently wrapped an arm around Kiki’s shoulders.

Inside, dear. You can’t do anything out here and Ang has this under control. You, though, need to get inside, Brandy said soothingly as she guided Kiki up the stairs and into her door.

Her door. Her house. Her safe place.

The anxiety started to ease as soon as the two women crossed the threshold and Brandy guided Kiki to her little dinette table (with one chair) before she put the tea kettle on to boil.

Ang said you had everything taken from you, including your dogs. Tell me about your dogs, she prompted.

The sorrow overtook Kiki again as she started to talk about her champion bullmastiffs. She worried out loud about pregnant Squirrel, and sadly bragged about how Possum earned his championship points so quickly, he was so beautiful and regal. Little Sparrow would never be a champion because she couldn’t stop playing in the show ring, but there was a waiting list for her pups since she was such a striking brindle, almost completely black. All the dogs were named after animals Kiki saw on her property. Snake, her oldest male, was the largest bullmastiff she had ever bred. Mouse and (B)Rat were twins who were just earning the last of their points. Kiki wondered out loud if Doe was pregnant from her recent breeding. It would be Snake’s last stud. Brandy listened sympathetically, nodding and smiling and sending Kiki encouragement to talk more about her beloved dogs. When Angela glided quietly through the door, Kiki had switched from talking about her bullmastiffs to talking about her horse.

The middle-aged women exchanged an electrified look between them, but Kiki didn’t see it. Her own eyes were glassy with grief as she described how her buckskin stallion kept her safe and always acted out towards her abusive now-ex-husband, always made sure the offensive man couldn’t get near her when he was around.

I don’t know that he won’t just kill them all to hurt me, she whispered as her tidal wave of words finally ebbed.

Angela grabbed Kiki’s hand and soothed her, saying I’m sure they’ll be fine. In fact, I’m almost positive he’ll use them to try to coax you to come back to him, she told the young woman bluntly. Kiki saw then that this was likely, and wearily nodded her head. Brandy put her hand over Angela’s, adding her comforting touch to her wife’s.

You need sleep, dear, Brandy said. We’ll be up here in the morning to check on you.

Angela nodded agreement and added, I’ll take the phone with me for tonight. You won’t need it, since Everett from 2B will be sitting guard outside your door all night. You have a good cry and get some sleep and one of us will be up to check on you tomorrow. At that, both women stood and hugged Kiki tight. Before they could make it out the door, Kiki weary voice stopped them. Why are you so good to me? she asked.

The women smiled and their wizened faces lit up from within. Because we have both been through similar abuses, dear, Brandy said. We know what it is like to be helpless, to have no hope, and to be completely isolated. We were fortunate, though, because we found each other.

Angela nodded agreeance and joined in, We understand that no one can do this alone. So, we will help you. And in return, sometime in the future, you will help someone else in need.

At that, both women waved good-night and quietly shut the door behind them. Kiki immediately locked both locks and walked over to her bed. She curled up under the covers and let the tears flow. Sleep overtook her sometime between sobs and she slept dreamlessly.

She woke in the morning to someone knocking on her door. Blind panic brought her upright in bed, convinced it was him. She took several deep breaths and swung her legs over the side of the bed in preparation to brave the front door’s peephole, but then she heard, Wake up, dear. It’s just me, from outside.

Brandy’s voice soothed her nerves and she had almost got her heartbeat back to normal as she unlocked the door. Before she could open it more than a crack, it was shoved into her hard as a body slammed into it from the other side. The force of the blow came from two exuberant, slobbering giants as they greeted her with uncontained excitement.

I think these two are the ones you talked about the most. The brindle girl is most definitely pregnant and that sable-colored boy there was the best looking male I saw in the kennel. Are they the infamous Squirrel and Possum? Brandy asked her innocently as mischief glittered in her eyes.

Kiki wrapped her two most beloved bullmastiffs into a great hug as they struggled to lick her face. Brandy, you are an angel, she gasped through laughter. I don’t want to know how you got them, do I? she asked her friend.

No dear, you don’t. Now, gather whatever you need to go camping for a few days and come on down to the car. You can’t stay here, you know. He’ll come looking. The very thought of confronting him sent shocks of terror through her and she hustled about the apartment gathering a few changes of cloths and a handful of books. Then into the bathroom for her toiletries and the last of her hidden cash. Everything fit neatly into her only backpack (the one with kittens-in-space printed all over it) and in less than twenty minutes she was flying down the stairs to where the little Toyota always sat. Not today, though. Today, there was a beat-up truck hitched up to a horse trailer in the spot where the little car usually held vigil.

Kiki stopped in her tracks. Is that...? Surprise kept her from speaking the words. Surprise and hope. Angela stood beside the passenger door of the truck, waiting for Kiki and her giant dogs to hop in while Brandy was already behind the steering wheel, fastening her seatbelt.

A squeal erupted from the trailer. It answered her unspoken question and goaded Kiki back into motion. Possum hopped easily into the truck’s backseat, but Squirrel had to have a helping hand to get her pregnant weight into the vehicle. Brandy was already putting the truck and trailer into motion the moment Kiki’s ass hit the seat.

You also got King from him? she asked the women sharing the front seat. Angela turned to look back at Kiki and just smiled.

Don’t ask how we did, dear. Just know we have a plan, she soothed the young woman whose world was suddenly brighter and more full.

Kiki decided she really didn’t want to know what the older couple were doing in the night while she had slept away a broken heart. She just held tightly to the dogs who shared her seat and waited to see where they were going.

Brandy drove most of the day, heading south and slightly east. Not surprisingly, about mid-afternoon they crossed the Florida line. They stopped for some fast food in Lake City and ate it in the truck as they kept going south. Finally, in the diluted brightness of early evening, they pulled onto a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. The road wound through dense trees for several miles before ending abruptly at the edge of a swamp.

The sudden lack of noise pressed in on the women after the engine was turned off. No sounds invaded their space as Angela and Brandy both turned to look at Kiki in the backseat. After several seconds of the soothing silence, Angela’s low voice broke the peaceful quiet.

Now, dear, you know he is going to want you back. And to do that, he needs everything you held dear. He will be angry when he finds the animals are gone, and he will be livid when he realizes you aren’t anywhere to be found, so you need to hide. Can you do that? she asked. Kiki thought about her situation for several moments before answering.

I... I think so? she stammered. I mean, you two seem to know so much more about this than I do, but I am ready to do whatever you tell me, she said firmly. After a few more seconds of deep thought, she continued, In fact, I’m finally ready to take my life back. She met Angela’s eyes fearlessly before continuing. Thank you. I can’t say anything that will tell you how much this means to me, but when I say thank you, I say it sincerely. Then Kiki grabbed her backpack and opened the door, ready to step into the life of a fugitive.

A fugitive who stole her own pets back from her abusive now-ex-husband.

Suddenly, Kiki felt giddy. She giggled as she studied her surroundings. The trees above were draped in grey-green moss and the water before her was covered in bright green scum. It was alien, but serene and beautiful.

A grating sound from behind her startled Kiki, and she looked over her shoulder to see Brandy pull a dull olive-green plastic canoe from the bed of the truck. She hurried over to help the older woman lower it to the rock-strewn ground. Brandy set her half down, then pondered the canoe and the bullmastiffs standing silently at Kiki’s side. Then she looked back to the canoe. Then back to Squirrel and Possum. Then, with a sigh, she admitted, It seems we might not have gotten a big enough canoe to fit everyone, with a low chuckle. Then she reached back into the truck bed and pulled out two more packs, one filled with food for the woman and dogs, the other filled with a tent. She placed the packs into the canoe, then reached over the side of the truck once more to pull out a waterproof canvas and a thin, insulated blanket.

Angela came around from the back of the trailer leading King, who strained to reach Kiki. The buckskin stallion wasn’t large, nor was he of any particular breed, but he was a strong coil of muscles glowing a soft gold in the diluted evening sunlight. Kiki threw her arms around the blunt nose and held the horse’s head securely as she reassured him of her love and devotion.

The women gave her a few moments of quiet before they spoke again.

Put the boat in the water before we leave, dear, and aim it that way, Angela said as she pointed out over the water. You won’t be able to put King into the canoe, of course, but he will be fine swimming along behind if you aren’t too slow about paddling, she advised.

Worry crept over Kiki and she asked, Aren’t there alligators out here? Kiki’s parents always swore there were alligators everywhere in Florida, even under all the cars.

Of course there are, dear, Brandy said with a happy laugh. But King is too big for them to eat, so they should leave him alone. Just don’t push your luck, and make sure you are out of the water with your campsite set up before dark. And with that nugget of wisdom, the two older women hugged Kiki and said their good-byes. Kiki had the boat in the water and both dogs crammed close together in its bottom as the truck and trailer left a dusty trail back up the dirt road, where Kiki’s friends were now headed back to the highway. Kiki knew the couple would do everything in their power to give her now-ex-husband misleading clues, and for the first time in years she felt secure.

She hopped in the canoe and pushed away from shore with the paddle as King fearlessly strode into the swampy murk. He stayed abreast of the canoe as she paddled the direction Angela had pointed her towards, sometimes walking on the shallow bottom and sometimes swimming strongly. After about two hours of hard paddling, Kiki saw a dark shadow of solid land growing larger before her. She used the last of her energy to guide the canoe onto the sloping shore and crawled out to pull the canoe onto higher ground. King shook hard and water droplets fell through the air like a short burst of rain lighting upon her. Even though she was wearier than she had ever been in her life, Kiki was euphoric. She was free from her imprisoning now-ex-husband and her beloved pets were with her.

Kiki took a rope from its pack and looped it over King’s thick neck. Then she tied the canoe to the free end. A soft murmur from her had King proudly pulling the canoe’s minimal weight over the uneven ground with an easy stride. The small group walked for another ten minutes before Kiki found a small clearing to set up her tent. She untied King and thanked him for his help, then secured the canoe to a tree before unpacking her new tent.

It was an easy tent to set up and within ten minutes Kiki had a cozy space inside the waterproofed material that would shelter her and the two dogs through the night. She unpacked some dog kibbles and offered the food to the hungry dogs, who ate it readily but politely. Kiki felt a senseless pride that her dogs remembered their manners, even out in the middle of an unknown swamp. Then she grabbed a small bag of trail mix from the same pack and forced herself to eat some of it before she wearily crawled into the tent beside the dogs. Various grunts and chirps surrounded her from the swamp and Kiki couldn’t identify any of the sounds, but she found them to be soothing and not the least bit scary.

Just before she drifted into slumber, she muttered into Possum’s ear; It’s pretty sad when I’m less afraid of alligators than I am of the man I married. Possum looked over to Squirrel before he took up a relaxed watch staring at the flap of the tent.

He would keep his family safe no matter what it cost.

The morning sun brought a muggy blanket of summer heat and stickiness, and Kiki was sweating profusely as she took down the tent and stored everything in the canoe again. She retied the rope around King’s neck and the four travelled deeper into the woods around them. There was only the faintest of paths, and in some places, there was no path at all to follow. But Kiki and the dogs took their time and made sure to find the easiest way for King to follow them through the thick scrub as the great pines and oaks towered above them. They travelled this way for three days.

The fourth day started the same as all the ones before it – Florida’s sweltering mid-summer humidity woke Kiki and the dogs as the sun cleared the eastern horizon. They ate a small breakfast and then joined King outside. The dogs kept watch as Kiki cleaned up the campsite and stored the equipment in the canoe, then they walked bravely toward the unknown in the direction Kiki’s friend had pointed her. After two hours of walking on that fourth day, Kiki stopped, stunned, at the edge of a clearing.

A clearing that surrounded a house.

Not a neat and tidy house, but a run-down stone building.

Although Kiki stopped, King barely paused. He saw the building and pranced right up to the sagging front porch. Then he looked back at his mistress and cocked his head to the side in a question.

We don’t know who lives here, she whispered as loudly as she could. We can’t just take over someone’s house, she admonished the stallion, who gave a disbelieving snort in reply.

"I know it looks abandoned, but somebody has to own this land. We are trespassing," she insisted. Before she could argue more with the buckskin stallion, the dogs at her side exchanged a bemused look and followed King to the house. They, too, stopped at the porch and stared back at Kiki.

She was outvoted.

Kiki sighed and walked timidly up to the ruined house. She untied the canoe from King’s neck and then circled the stone shack. The outside walls were made of stacked black rock and was cemented with a grey concrete-looking mortar. Kiki bravely entered the shack and the rotting door swung inward on screaming hinges. There were only three windows, one on each wall.  Surprisingly, the glass was unbroken and although the panes were moldy, they moved grudgingly as she opened them from the inside. The light filtering in showed the inside walls were all intact and solid. The floor was hard-packed dirt with pebbles stomped into it. A small but sturdy wood stove leaned drunkenly against the wall behind it, off-kilter because of the buckled brick platform underneath. There was only the one room, but exposed beams and a loft held the promise of more room and storage. Of course, the loft was sagging and needed obvious work, but