"What should you care about a white girl?" Frank questioned, as his back came up against a tree that was blocking his exit.
Zippora's eyes rested momentarily on Liberty and seemed to soften. "I care about this white girl," she said, tossing the whip down. "Go. You have already incurred my wrath. Do not force me to send the raven to pluck your eyes from your dead bodies."
It took no time at all for the two brothers to scamper around the bend to be lost from sight. Liberty drew in a deep sigh of relief, until her gaze met the yellow eyes of Zippora. The fright she'd felt when she'd thought the two men were gong to ravish her was a puny feeling compared to her fear of this woman.
"I will . . . just be going, too," Liberty said, taking a step backward, trying to remember where she had secured her skiff.
Zippora shook her head. "You will come with me so I can tend your wound and mend your gown. Then you will be free to go to your home, Liberty Boudreaux."
Liberty eyed Zippora, ready to take flight if the woman should come too near. Apprehensively she tested her bloody lip with her finger. "I am but scratched. My family will be worried about me if I do not start for home now."
"Your family does not look to your whereabouts, Liberty Boudreaux. Wipe your apprehension from your mind. You have nothing to fear from me. I have watched you for years as you played along the bayou. I have seen the animals eat from your hand. I have seen the tears you cried when you thought no one was near. Today I saw you place yourself in danger to save my grandson from the slavers."
For the first time Liberty glanced down at the boy. His dark eyes were shining and his smile was sweet. "He does not seem to be injured," she said, dropping to her knees and looking him over. "He must have been more frightened than hurt."
"Thanks to you, Liberty Boudreaux. Now you will come home with me so I can repay your kindness."
Liberty stood, undecided, as Zippora turned and walked away. She wanted to go, yet she still feared the old woman. She thought how exciting it would be to tell her sister, Bandera, that she had gone to the house of the witch Zippora. The young boy tugged at her hand, making up her mind for her. She gathered her courage and allowed the boy to lead her down a worn pathway. Perhaps she would die from some awful curse, but if she lived, what a tale she would have to relay to Bandera.
Liberty had to rush to catch up with Zippora, who set a zestful pace for someone of her obviously advanced age. As they walked along, the young girl studied the old woman out of the corner of her eye. Zippora was tall and slender. Her face was like cinnamon, yet parched and leathery. Her strange catlike yellow eyes were filled with shrewdness. Her gnarled hands were evidence of years spent toiling for other people. Liberty wondered how the witch knew her name. Did she, indeed, have strange powers of perception?
Liberty looked into Zippora's eyes and found they were dancing with mirth. "You are wondering how I know so much about you, Liberty Boudreaux," she said with startling accuracy.
"Oui"
Crackling laughter issued from the old woman's lips. "It is said I am a witch and can see into people's mind. Do you believe this to be true?"
"I . . . ok/'—are you?"
"I will wait until I leave this world and let God judge what I am, Liberty."
"Do you believe in God?" Liberty asked in shocked surprise. "I had heard that you worshiped — "
"The devil?" Zippora broke in. "No, I am no disciple of the underworld, although it pleases some people to believe I am."
Liberty had been pondering Zippora's words, and she hadn't realized they had entered a dark part of the swamp until the trail narrowed and thorny bushes tore at her skirt. She stopped short for right in the middle of the path, just in front of them was a human skull perched atop a tall spike!
Liberty gasped from fear, and her heart pounded against her ribs. She wished she had never consented to come with the old woman. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot, and she wished she could take flight.
Seeing Liberty's fear, Zippora's laughter crackled. "This was not intended to frighten you, my welcome guest. It is intended to keep all intruders away."
"Did you . . . is that . . . ?"
Again amused laughter echoed around the swamp, and Zippora turned her strange yellow eyes on Liberty. "There is nothing here that will harm you. I have lived in these swamps for years, and find them safer than the streets of New Orleans."
The old woman turned away and walked down the path. The young boy tugged at her hand, and Liberty took a hesitant step forward, her eyes glued to the hideous bleached-white skull with gaping holes where eyes had once been. In that moment she called on all her courage to step around the spike and follow Zippora down the dark pathway. The path became a long narrow tunnel with very little light penetrating the gloom. Moss from the trees tangled in Liberty's hair and thorns tore at her clothing. It was dank and dark. Just ahead Liberty saw a ray of light, and she hurried toward it.
The cabin at the end of the path was nothing like Liberty had expected. Surrounded by an arc of light, it was a neat, trim structure made of cypress logs. Nearby, several goats grazed on the swamp grass. A stone walkway was lined with exotic flowers, and lace curtains were visible at the window.
Zippora stood in the doorway motioning Liberty inside. "Come along. I want to see to that cut on your lip."
Apprehensively the young girl moved into the cabin. Again she was surprised by what she saw. The room was light and airy. Above the open fireplace hung an iron pot, its bubbling contents sending a delicious aroma through the room. A table and chairs, which had been painted bright yellow, added to the cheerful setting. Bottles and jugs were neatly lined up on shelves.
Apprehensively, Liberty picked the young boy up. "I think we should first make certain your grandson is unhurt."
Zippora looked her grandson over carefully and then smiled at him. "Reuben is not hurt," she said at last. "Go out in the yard and play, while I tend to our guest," she instructed her grandson.
The young boy's eyes were shining as he reached out and softly touched Liberty's cheek. She laughed and planted a kiss on his forehead just before he scampered out the door.
Zippora pointed to one of the kitchen chairs. "You will sit there while I tend your wound."
Without hesitation, Liberty obeyed. Zippora raised the young girl's face to the light and frowned. "This is not bad, and it will require only a little salve. It could have been much worse."
"Oui," Liberty agreed. "If you hadn't come along when you did, it could have been much worse for me."
Zippora mumbled to herself as she moved her bony finger over the labels of the bottles and tins. When she found what she was seeking, she nodded her head and returned to Liberty. Opening the tin, she liberally applied the rose-scented salve to the young girl's lips. Standing back, she nodded approvingly.
"Oui, that will do very nicely."
Liberty smiled. "Thank you for your care, but I really must be going now."
"Not yet. You will eat while I mend your gown. We cannot have you going about with your clothing half torn off." Zippora gave Liberty little time to refuse. Tossing a flowered robe into the girl's lap, she ordered Liberty to undress.
The girl obeyed slowly. "I shouldn't—"
"Tie the belt," Zippora ordered in a soft tone.
"I should be leav—"
Zippora silenced her with a glance. Pushing Liberty down in a chair, she ladled some of the bubbling soup into a wooden bowl, which she placed on the table in front of Liberty. "I am a very good cook. You will like this."
"What is it?" Liberty questioned, unable to identify anything, except carrots, she saw in the milky substance.
"It is my own mixture. You will find it delicious."
Liberty took a deep breath and raised a spoonful to her lips. Her tongue peeped out and tasted the soup, and she smiled brightly. "This is delicious!"
"Did I not say it was?" Zippora asked. The old woman bent down and retrieved a sweet potato from among the red-hot ashes. Placing it o
n a plate, she broke it open, filled it with creamy yellow butter, and placed it beside Liberty's bowl. She then seated herself on a stool by the window, threaded a needle, took up Liberty's gown, and began to take neat little stitches.
"You are much too skinny. You should eat more," Zippora observed.
"I do eat, but I don't seem to gain weight," Liberty said, with her mouth full.
"It is not seemly for a young lady for your standing to talk with food in her mouth, Liberty Boudreaux," Zippora scolded mildly. "I am surprised your mother has not taught this to you."
"Oh, my mother does not bother with me. She says I am not pretty like Bandera. And I fear I am a constant trial to her, for I cannot seem to stay out of trouble. My father has very little money left, and the plantation is in a state of ruin. I fear Bandera will have to marry into money, while I may be forced to enter a convent." Now that Liberty had lost her fear of Zippora, the words flowed unchecked. Never had she had anyone to confide in, anyone who was interested in what she had to say.
Zippora stared at the young girl, searching for any sign of jealousy or resentfulness at her mother's neglect and cruelty, but saw none. Zippora knew that Liberty's mother, Ursula, had been married to a Spaniard who had died, leaving her desperate. Bandera had been the issue from that marriage. Ursula had then married Louis Boudreaux, and Liberty had been born to them.
"Do you not think you will one day be pretty, Liberty Boudreaux?"
Remembering the scolding she had just received, Liberty swallowed a mouthful of sweet potato before she answered. "No. Mother says the runt of the litter very rarely turns into a beautiful princess. I do not mind not being pretty, because I would detest having to go through all the rituals Bandera is forced to endure. She spends hours at her toilette each morning before she is allowed to come downstairs. She can never go abroad without a bonnet to protect her skin. At night she cannot go to bed without following a strict regime that my mother has drawn up for her. You cannot believe the torture she has to undergo each day. I believe it would be very tedious to be beautiful."
Zippora frowned. "So your mother believes you to be the runt of the litter? What does your father think?"
Liberty giggled. "My father is blinded by his love for me. He believes me to be a great beauty. He thinks I look like his sister whose name I bear."
Zippora looked into blue eyes with long sooty lashes. The sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of Liberty's nose gave her the look of a precocious child. There was a hint of something beyond beauty. Perhaps it was the laughter in those blue eyes . . . perhaps it was the proud tilt to the head. Whatever it was, the old woman knew this young girl would one day grow into a real beauty, admired by all who met her.
"I believe you are not a runt, but rather a bud that has not yet blossomed."
Liberty wiped butter from her chin with the back of her hand. "Do you think so?" she asked, doubtful that Zippora's prediction would ever come to pass. She did not believe she would blossom into a beauty.
The old woman frowned. "You will never be a lady if you act with such disregard for manners. Never wipe your mouth with your hand. I am appalled that your education has been neglected. How old are you?"
Liberty hesitated for only a moment. "I—Today is my fifteenth birthday."
Now Zippora read hurt in those blue eyes. "It is your birthday, and your mother and father have forgotten."
"It isn't important. My mother is preparing for a dinner at our house tonight, and my father is in New Orleans."
"I see. Perhaps you can spend the day with me and Reuben. Together we will make it a special day for you."
"I must return home at once," Liberty said, coming to her feet. Slipping out of the borrowed robe, she pulled her gray gown over her head. "May I help you clean up?" she asked, stacking the dishes together.
"No, it is your birthday. I will give you a present, Liberty Boudreaux. It was given to me by someone special many years ago when I was young and beautiful. It has brought good luck to me; perhaps it will do the same for you as well."
Liberty watched the old woman take a bright red tin from the mantel and remove an object wrapped in blue paper. She held her breath as Zippora handed her a ring on which was set a huge pearl surrounded by several diamonds.
"It is beautiful," Liberty exclaimed. "But surely you do not mean for me to take it?"
"That is my intention."
"I could never accept this ring from you. It is much too valuable," Liberty said, holding the ring out to the old woman.
"Nonsense. It is mine to give, and I want you to accept it as a token for saving my grandson from the slavers. You will take it to please me."
"I could not."
Zippora took the ring and pushed it onto Liberty's finger. "My daughter is long dead, and my grandson will never have any use for this ring. I will like knowing it is on your finger."
"But why me?"
"I told you before, I have been watching you for a long time and I like what I have seen."
On a sudden impulse, Liberty took the old woman's hand. "If it is your wish, I shall wear it for you. But should the time come when you want it back, you have only to say so."
"It is yours to keep. I will not want it back."
"Tell me who gave you the ring?" Liberty asked. The old woman had started to wash the dishes, so Liberty picked up a drying cloth and began to wipe them and stack them on the table. Zippora's eyes clouded over for a moment and then took on a soft glow, as if she were remembering something wonderful out of her past.
"It was long ago. The young gentleman who gave me the ring was named Beau Antoine. I grew up as a slave on his family's plantation in Haiti. He was handsome and dashing, and I fell in love with him." Zippora's eyes closed for a moment, as if she were remembering a particular incident from long ago.
"Did he love you also?" Liberty asked.
"Oui. You see I was very beautiful. I had been trained as a lady's maid and could speak French very well. It was my job to teach' the niceties to Beau's two sisters."
"What happened?"
"Beau and I were so deeply in love that we became reckless. It wasn't long until his father found out about us and called me to him. He was a cold, hard man. I will not tell you what transpired that day, except to say I was beaten and sold to a slaver. My destination was not to be revealed lest Beau try to find me."
Liberty wiped the tears from her eyes. "How very sad."
The old woman's eyes clouded over once more. "Indeed it was sad. I could never cross into Beau's world, and he could never come into mine. Our love was doomed from the first. The black and white worlds can never merge. I found that out the hard way."
"What happened?"
"I was sent to New Orleans. To this day I can still feel the heartbreak of that time. I was so desperate for my love that I became ill. I wanted only to die."
Liberty's eyes blurred with tears. "Did you ever see Beau again?"
"Oui, but I wish I had not. For it cost him his life. Somehow my love found out where I had been sent, and he came to me. He bought my freedom and set me up in a house in New Orleans. Knowing that we could never find a priest to marry us, we entered a church late one night and exchanged our pledges to one another. I was as much Beau's wife as if we had been married by a holy man. But everyone thought I was his mistress, and this was acceptable to them. We were so happy when our daughter was born."
"That would have been Reuben's mother."
"Oui. Marie was our delight. She was light in color, like her father. Our little house was a sanctuary away from the world, and I was very happy. But I always feared Beau would one day be forced to leave me. I never dreamed it would be under such tragic circumstances."
Liberty held her breath as she became caught up in Zippora's tragic tale. "How did he leave you?"
Zippora leaned against the table and stared at the young girl as if not really seeing her. "Beau's father found us. He demanded that Beau return to Haiti at once, but Beau refused. It is my belief
that his father hired a man to kill me, but the man misfired and shot Beau instead." The old woman's voice trembled. "As my love lay dying in a pool of blood, he made me promise that I would flee with our daughter. He knew his father was a vengeful man and would try to have us killed. I changed my name and hid out for many years. After the money Beau had given me was gone, I had a difficult time feeding my daughter."
"How did you live?"
"I made and sold baskets, as well as bottled herbs and spices and flowers on the streets of New Orleans. After a time I began to see that I could make money by reading palms. The wealthy white ladies paid much to have me look into the future for them. And they began to ask me for love potions and all kinds of charms. I was astounded at how fast my reputation grew. It was considered in vogue to have one's future told by Madame Zippora."
Liberty didn't know at what moment her fear of the old woman had disappeared. She was so moved by the tragic story, that her heart went out to the young lovers. "When did you leave New Orleans to live in the swamps, Zippora?"
The old woman took the drying cloth from Liberty and hung it on a peg. "That was thirteen years ago. My beautiful Marie was brutally attacked by two white, so-called gentlemen, who were on a drunken spree. When I learned she was going to have a baby, I brought her here. Reuben was born the night my daughter died. He is simple-minded and cannot speak. None of my medicine will cure him. But what my grandson lacks in intelligence, he was gifted with in his heart. He is of a kind and loving nature. He is my joy in life. In him I see much of Beau."
"Oh, Zippora, what a lonely life you have lived. Have you no friends?"
"No . . . but I have had the added joy of watching you grow up. You cannot know how your presence has often brightened up my loneliness. Just watching you with the animals brought me pleasure. I dared not approach you, fearing you would be frightened and never return to the swamp, and I would never see you again."
Liberty brushed a tear from her cheek. "May I come to see you again?"
"Come whenever you want to, Liberty Boudreaux. You will always find a welcome for you in this house. Come to me and I will teach you the social graces that are lacking in your education." Zippora pressed a bright red tin into Liberty's hand. "This is another gift for you."
Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Page 3