The Untold by Courtney Collins Page A

oppress my mother.
    I’m not feeling well
, she said.
Can you take me to Houdini? And then I should go back to bed.
    You can rest all you need to, dear
, said the old woman.
And your horse is right there. But first you must bathe.
    Soap and water irritate me
, said my mother and she was not lying. It was one of her defenses against Fitz, to bathe not very often or not at all.
    They may well, dear. But this is my house and there are certain rules and you must wash that fever from you or else catch it from yourself again and your insides turn septic.
    All right, I will bathe
, said my mother,
but first I need to see my horse.
    The old woman tut-tutted but she cleared Jessie’s plate, then led her outside.

    H OUDINI WAS IN A ST ABLE that had been cobbled together out of found things but it had a roof and a dirt floor and there was hay scattered within it. There was feed and fresh water. Jessie did notunderstand the motives of the old man or the old woman but she was glad that at least they knew how to take care of creatures.
    And there he was, Houdini, seventeen hands high, her dapple-gray stallion, bowing his head over the stable gate when she walked in. At the sight of him, she felt her heart tear. Houdini, more than anyone or anything, was her witness to it all.
    Houdini scooped her chin with the bridge of his nose and my mother touched her nose to his. She found a brush inside the stable and brushed him down—though she only managed to brush one flank and a hindquarter before all of her energy was gone.
    From outside the stable, the old man kept an eye on her while he cleaned and polished a saddle. Jessie recognized it to be hers. There were bloodstains on the seat and she was embarrassed by the very sight of it.
    Where is she?
she asked.
    The old man gestured to a tin shed near the far side of the yard.
Preparing your ablutions
.
    Jessie walked towards the tin shed, feeling the old man’s eyes on her all the way.

    T HE BATHHO USE WAS BUILT around a water tank. There were three walls with a roof but one side of it was completely exposed to the weather.
    Get undressed, dear
, said the old woman.
    My mother looked towards the opening.
    Don’t worry, dear
.
He won’t bother you. I’ll make sure of that.
    The old woman disappeared. My mother peered around the tin wall, then pulled the nightgown up and over her head. It felt good to be out of it. She stepped into the tub. The water was warm and came to just above her ankles.
    The old woman returned with pots of hot water and poured them into the bath.
    Go on
, she said.
Keep the tap running and lie down in it while it’s warm.
She perched on the edge of the bath while my mother sat down in the water and stretched her legs out.
    The old woman wrapped a cloth around a brick of soap and began to rub my mother’s back.
    I’ll do that
, said my mother.
I do know how to wash myself.
    I thought you said you didn’t.
    I’ll do it when you are gone.
    The old woman’s eyes narrowed and she scanned my mother’s body.
    Have you never seen a naked woman before?
said my mother.
    And then a look came over the old woman and her forehead flattened, as if she was unveiling herself at last.
    Child, I know it’s not long ago you gave birth
.
You are all bones except out in front.
    My mother shook out the brick of soap and covered herself with the cloth.
You don’t know anything about me.
    I know your name is Jessie
, said the old woman.
It was written on your shirt, as if you’d come from a prison or some dormitory. Is that where you have come from?
    My mother did not answer.
    And there is no hiding that you were not long ago with child. Your milk is all over the bedsheets and it is seeping from your nipples now.
    Jessie brought her knees up to her chest and raised her eyes to the top of the water tank.
    Where is it?
said the old woman.
    What?
    The child.
    Buried.
    Was it stillborn?
    No. It was born live. But too soon.
    Oh,