“I don’t know no such thing,” Potts snarled back. “I ain’t been out here since that day ye shot me.” He snorted derisively. “Morrisa made me stay ‘way after ye paid her a visit an’ threatened ta come for us if’n we hurt Sh’maine ‘gain. I wasn’t skeered o’ ye, but she sure was. O’ course, Freida tellin’ her ye’d kilt yer first wife might’ve had somethin’ ta do with that.”
Gage passed his gaze contemptuously over the hulking man. “I can see that you’ve recovered well enough.”
“Aye, but it took a while, blast ye! Too bad the li’l bogtrotter is so tough or I might’ve killed her that day. Her death would’ve given me somethin’ ta soothe the hurt o’ me wound.”
“Shemaine has never done you any harm,” Gage reasoned. “Why are you so intent on killing her?”
“For one thing, I owe it ta the li’l snip. I promised her, ye see. That day she left the London Pride, I swore ta have me revenge on her, an’ I always keep me word ta me foes.” Potts lifted his massive shoulders briefly. “Now at least there’s a goodly reward in doin’ ‘way with her. Pays me for waitin’, so ta speak.”
“Who has offered such a reward?” Gage couldn’t imagine Roxanne having enough coins to interest Potts or Morrisa. Even deducting what she had to give Freida, the harlot probably earned more in a week than Roxanne could put together in a whole year cleaning and cooking for her father.
“Don’t know, but Morrisa does, an’she ain’t sayin’.”
“Perhaps Morrisa is lying and hoping you’ll be shot and killed. I did say I would kill you the next time I saw you out here. She obviously doesn’t care about that. So why should you believe her?”
Digging into his purse, Potts produced a smooth leather pouch of too fine a quality to be something the tar would purchase or make. Holding it aloft, he shook it until the contents jingled. “ ’Cause for starters, Morrisa give me this here purse full o’ coins. If’n she didn’t think I’d be comin’ back, she’d ne’er’ve given it ta me. She’d’ave only told me a purse would be waitin’ for me.”
Gage seemed to consider the man’s rationale for a moment, but only to search out possible avenues of escape. A ruse might be effective in fooling the dullard.
Shifting his gaze past the man, Gage frowned sharply toward the top of the building slip and jerked his head to the side, as if cautioning an ally to take cover. But the tar had been warned by Morrisa not to let himself be duped by the wily colonial and was immediately wary of deception. Holding his pistol carefully aimed at Gage, Potts sidled cautiously around until he could take a quick glance toward the slip in relative safety. As he had expected, he found no one there.
“Ye’re tryin’ ta trick me,” Potts accused, narrowing his pig eyes in a piercing glare.
“I’m sorry, I had to do something to save myself,” Gage apologized blandly. With a casual shrug, he dismissed his attempt as something to be expected and paced forward with guarded tread, causing the sailor to stumble back with a growl.
“Ye stay where ye are, blast ye, or I’ll kill ye right here an’ now!”
Gage spread his hands in a gesture of pure innocence. “I’m unarmed, Potts. Why are you so worried?”
“ ’Cause ye’re full o’ pranks, ye are! Like that day ye stepped aside an’ booted me in the arse when I went rushin’ after ye.”
Gage smiled pleasantly, gratified that he had caused the man some embarrassment. “You must allow, Potts, that if the situation had been reversed, you might’ve done as much . . . if you had thought of it, of course.” His insinuation that the tar was thick-witted was subtle, Gage had to admit, but even a simple oaf should have recognized the insult. He was rather disappointed that Potts remained oblivious to the slight, so Gage spelled it out for the tar. “Too bad you can’t think that far ahead.”
“Well, this time I ain’t gonna let meself get taken in by none o’ yer shenanigans,” Potts declared gruffly.
Gage decided to test the man’s intelligence even more. Glancing this way and that, he made it seem as if he had lost something. But what he was really contemplating was snatching up an iron maul that was braced against a bucket of sand, very close to his feet. Sending the makeshift weapon flying full force against the tar’s noggin would certainly dull Potts’s senses, even if it didn’t kill him, which Gage sincerely hoped it would do. He was tired of living on the edge of fear, wondering if Potts was near or far or if a member of his family would be hurt or killed by him. At least now his adversary had come out of hiding.
“Now what’re ye doin’?” Potts barked, exasperated. “Tryin’ ta get yerself killed afore I’ve had me say?”
“I’m tired of your empty threats, Potts, so spare me your gloating comments. You’re nothing but a clumsy mudsucker—”
With a roar of rage, Potts stretched out his right arm and leveled the pistol at his tormentor’s head, but Gage ducked and reached for the maul. He only had one chance to stop the tar from killing Shemaine! He fully expected his own life would be forfeited in the process, for he could not hope to throw the heavy hammer toward the man and still remain unscathed by an exploding flintlock.
Even as he heard the faint rasping of a trigger being squeezed, Gage swung the maul upward in a rounded arc over his head. In the next instant an explosion rent the silence as he hurled the hammer forward toward the tar. Gage waited in agonizing suspense for the shot to strike him full in the chest and was amazed when Potts’s huge body jerked forward in a convulsive shudder. The maul barely missed the tar’s head as he tottered stiltedly on turning feet. A strange gurgling gasp came from Potts’s throat, and then a heavy trickle of blood spilled down the corner of his mouth. He gaped at Gage, his astonishment supreme.
Gage was equally stunned as he watched the man. Potts painstakingly raised his arm and looked under it at the large blotch of red that was swiftly mushrooming beneath the sleeve of his white shirt. Through the large hole in the garment, he glimpsed a sticky, dark red rent in the wall of his chest and felt the burning path of the lead shot clear through to his lung. In slack-jawed wonder, Potts lifted his eyes to the slender form standing at the top of the building slip, toward which Gage had directed his gaze a moment earlier.
Shemaine lowered the still-smoking pistol to her side and allowed it to slip from her benumbed fingers as she glared through welling tears at Potts. “You sh-shouldn’t have tried to k-kill my husband!”
Gritting her teeth together to keep them from chattering, Shemaine made a valiant attempt to bridle her violent shaking, but her composure was steadily collapsing. Very soon she would be sobbing with the torment of what she had been forced to do. It was the second time she had shot a man to save her husband’s life. She liked it no better this time than she had the first.
Awkwardly Potts turned his pistol toward her, but Gage threw himself forward and, with an upward sweep of his hand, knocked the oaf’s arm skyward. The deafening roar of the exploding weapon seemed to echo across the river, sending waterfowl flying upward in diverse directions from the far shore. Gage rammed a fist into the broad face of the sailor, catapulting Potts backward and sending him sliding across the planks, leaving a wide streak of glistening red to mark his passage. Potts tried to rise, but his efforts only hastened the flow of blood gushing from his chest. Carefully he laid his head back upon the deck, as if extremely exhausted, and stared up at the rose-colored sky as a flock of birds wheeled across his line of vision. Very slowly he closed his eyes and, with a pensive sigh, gave up his life.
A shout from the cabin drew Gage’s attention, and he hurried to the far side of the ship to see William, Bess and Andrew standing on the porch. Gage waved his arm in a wide sweep above his head to assure his father that they were safe. Then the three returned to the cabin’s interior.
Gage hurried to his troubled wife and took her in his arms, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he tried to quell her trembling. “Whatever made you come up here with a pistol, my love?”
“I saw Potts from the front do
or of the cabin,” Shemaine muttered miserably. She had been about to leave when she had seen the all-too-familiar broad shape flitting across the clearing toward the ship. “But how did you see me? I thought I was being so careful sneaking up the building slip.”
Gage was totally bemused. “I never saw you.”
“But you frowned and looked directly toward me while I was crouching on the building slip. I thought sure Potts would turn and see me.”
Gage recalled his ploy to draw the tar’s attention away from him so he could launch an assault and was immensely thankful that Potts had been too suspicious to look around immediately. The oaf could have killed Shemaine. “I never saw you . . . or even heard you. I was only trying to divert Potts’s attention so I could try rushing him. I never once imagined that you’d be hiding there behind the rail. It frightens me to think what I might have caused trying to distract Potts.”
Shemaine sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I was ready for him. I would have shot him.”
“I can’t even allow myself to think otherwise.” Gage groaned. His heart had already turned cold at the horrible prospect of her being killed.
Shemaine began to shiver uncontrollably as she stared fixedly at the dead man. “I d-doubt that Potts ever considered his h-hatred of us w-would cost h-him his life.”
Gage rubbed his wife’s arms vigorously to chase away the chill she was suffering. The shock was settling in, and he knew he’d have to get the man out of her sight soon. “I’ll carry Potts’s body down to the cabinet shop and put together a coffin for him.”
“I’d b-better clean the b-blood off the d-deck while you’re doing that,” she stuttered, unable to stop her shaking. “ ‘Twill be dark soon, and I w-would hate for the blood t-to soak into the w-wood overnight.”
Catching the sailor’s arm, Gage drew him up across his shoulders and carried him toward the slip. “I’ll come back and help you as soon as I’ve nailed Potts in a coffin.”
Shemaine straightened her spine with willful resolve and, by slow degrees, took hold of herself. When she was calmer, she went to the cabin briefly, spoke privately to William and explained what had happened. She received his assurances that he would put Andrew to bed and the boy would be none the wiser as to what had happened on the ship. She squeezed William’s hand, communicating her growing affection for him, and he surprised her by catching her fingers in his grasp and raising her hand to his lips. Nothing was said. There was no need. His fondness for her was becoming more apparent with each passing day. After all, it was the second time she had killed a man to save his son.
Shemaine returned to the deck of the ship with a bucket of soapy water, a bundle of rags, and a scrub brush. Having changed her attire for an older gown and an apron, she shuddered at the gruesome task ahead of her as she settled to her hands and knees on the deck and began scrubbing and cleaning up the gore. She had hoped to spend some time alone with her husband and to share in his elation over the sale of his ship, but at the moment she would have been relieved just to have him near, to have his stalwart presence comforting her. With darkness approaching, she wanted to enjoy the nourishing succor of being with her family and was anxious to return to the cabin. She felt uneasy about being alone. It was almost as if someone was watching her, and she could only surmise that the trauma of killing Potts was plaguing her peace of mind.
The impression of being spied upon finally became too strong for Shemaine to ignore any longer. She sat back on her heels and glanced around toward the companionway, from whence the feeling had first arisen. Immediately her heart lurched, for standing there was Roxanne Corbin with a cocked pistol in her hand and a sublime smirk on her face.
“It took you long enough to realize I was here,” Roxanne jeered.
Shemaine could only imagine that the woman had slipped aboard while she was at the cabin and for the last few moments had been enjoying the sight of her rival hard at work.
“I see you’ve already had one visitor tonight,” the woman remarked. “Potts was his name, wasn’t it? Poor soul, he really wasn’t very handy at killing you, was he, Shemaine? He’s tried before, I’ve been told . . . and was so inept he gained a hole in his side for his attempt. I could have told him that Gage was a marksman, but of course Potts had no reason to seek my counsel. But I can assure you I won’t be so careless.”
Shemaine rose to her feet warily, “What do you intend?”
Roxanne simpered smugly as she strolled forward. “Are you so naive, chit? When one holds a loaded flintlock aimed at you, what would you normally expect? A simple tête-à-tête?” She scoffed with snide humor. “I’ve never been one to chat with other women much. I only visited Victoria and made her think I needed her friendship because I wanted to be near Gage. I really hated her, you see. From the very beginning, I wanted to see her die. I abhorred her sweetness and the little favors she did for me. But I never once felt beholden to her. She had stolen Gage away from me, and I never forgave her for that. The night she gave birth to Andrew, I was hoping she’d die before delivering him. Then I wouldn’t have been reminded of her every time I looked at the little whelp. I wanted Gage all to myself and loathed sharing him with anyone, even Andrew. But the little brat gave me a reason to come out here, and I took advantage of every moment I had with Gage, hoping he’d relent and marry me.”
Roxanne’ s mouth turned downward in distaste. “Then you came along, and I saw the end of it all. He’d marry you, just like he had Victoria.”
The blonde tossed her head, as if shaking away the thought. “But I have no desire to delay your murder until Gage comes back. He might try to stop me, you see. He was that protective of Victoria, too, the fool. I mean to leave you dead so he’ll be accused of your murder. Only this time, I won’t come rushing in to save him. I’ll let him hang from the highest gallows. He’s turned me away too many times. After your death, I’m sure the townspeople will be more ready to believe he killed Victoria than they’ve been in the last weeks. In fact, they’ll likely give Gage a swift trial for murdering you both.”
Shemaine tried to argue against the cleverness of the woman’s plan. “There are other people in the cabin, Roxanne. Your ploy won’t work this time.”
Roxanne sneered. “Gage was as close as the cabin when Victoria was thrown over the prow to the rocks below. I knew the two of them usually went to the ship together on the days when his men were not here. I hid my father’s boat in the brush and watched until I saw Gage go back to the cabin with Andrew. He was so considerate of her, he usually took care of Andrew’s needs like that when he could, allowing Victoria a day off, so to speak. He came running after he heard her scream, but it was too late. Victoria was already quite dead by the time he came out of the cabin, but the strange thing about it, she died before she ever hit the rocks. Her neck had been broken, you see, just like Samuel Myers’s before he was thrown into the well.”
Curiously Shemaine considered her opponent, wondering how Roxanne would have had the strength to accomplish such grisly feats, for the woman did not look abnormally strong. “How did you manage to break their necks?”
Roxanne smiled with amusement. “Actually, I’m not the one who killed them. All I did was convince my friend that Victoria was trying to kill me, sweet little angel that she was. I lured my friend out here by telling him that I needed him to watch over me so I could talk to her and see why she wanted to kill me. For his benefit, I pretended to struggle for my life after I caught hold of her. Naturally my friend couldn’t bear to see me hurt. He came out of hiding and grabbed her from behind. Victoria was so fragile, the arm he slipped around her snapped her neck, and then I had him throw her over the prow to make it seem like an accident or a suicide. He killed Samuel Myers for me, too, after that little rat beat me up. But my friend was more intentional about breaking Myers’s neck. After all, I had the bruises to prove how much I’d been hurt.” Roxanne heaved a sigh as if saddened by some matter. “Usually it’s so easy to get my friend to do what I want. All I have to
do is pretend that I’m being harmed in some way and he comes running to my rescue. But he’s become much too fond of you, Shemaine, and refuses to do you any harm. He even imagines that you’re his friend.”
“My friend?” Shemaine’s brows drew together.
“Really, Shemaine, I don’t have time to explain everything to you in detail. ‘Twould take hours to tell you how carefully I’ve planned everything before now, and you’re such a simpleton. You can’t imagine who it can be, can you? I was terribly frustrated trying to get our friend to kill you. Then a proposal was presented to me this very afternoon, and considering the haste in which it had to be done, I came out to do the deed myself.” Roxanne motioned with the pistol, directing Shemaine toward the prow. “I want this over with before Gage gets back here. Then I’m going to leave, fetch my reward and put Newportes Newes behind me forever.”
“What reward?”
“I’m being paid to kill you, you dolt. Considering my friend’s aversion to hurting you, I would have come around to killing you myself eventually. Being offered a sizeable purse influenced me to do it now. The money will provide me with many of the things I’ve always wanted. Perhaps I’ll even travel to England or some other place. With such a substantial reward awaiting my success, I’ll be able to go anywhere I want.” Roxanne gestured with the pistol. “Now, hurry, and do as I say.”
Shemaine shook her head, becoming quite obstinate. “If you think I’m going to climb up to the prow and let you push me off so you can blame my husband, then you’re the one who’s a simple dolt, Roxanne!”
“Get over there, I say!” Roxanne barked, tightening her grip on the butt of the flintlock. “I know how to use this thing, so don’t think I won’t.”
Petals on the River Page 52