Tennessee Bride

by Rosanne Bittner

  Yes. Maybe his only hope was to get to Master Sam. But would he believe Jim’s story about the Indian taking the girl? Maybe even Master Sam would think Jim himself had killed Hank so he could rape the white girl. White men were always ready to believe things like that. How strange that they thought nothing of raping Indian girls and Negro girls, and sometimes even their own kind, and of buying and selling pretty, innocent girls like that Emma Simms. And yet if they thought Jim had touched her, they would torture and hang him.

  He ran until his breath left him, then plunked down on an old log, putting his head in his hands and trying to decide what to do. Maybe if he headed north he would find help. Maybe God had brought the flood so that he could escape!

  Yes! Surely this was a sign from God. But where was north? He was not at all positive where he was. He would have to wait till morning, wait till there was some sunshine so he could get his bearings. Surely with a flood this bad it would be a long time before anyone bothered to look for him. Besides, they probably thought he was drowned. He would never have a better opportunity to get away. And he secretly hoped the poor white girl Emma Simms would also escape, and never have to go to Sam Gates.

  Tommy groaned awake, unsure of the time, aware only that it was very dark and that it was still raining. He stirred, his head swimming from too much whiskey. He had awakened that morning in agony from sore privates and an aching mouth from River Joe’s blows the night before. His new wounds only activated the pain he still suffered from Emma’s beating with the board.

  He had lain in bed most of this day, listening to the river roar as it rose more. Then he had drunk more whiskey to kill his pain, plotting how he could get even with River Joe and with Emma. He would go to Knoxville and pay whatever it cost to sleep with Emma Simms. The thought of the horror she would suffer when she was “trained” by Sam Gates brought a smile to his sore mouth; and then she would soon learn that Tommy Decker would be one of her first customers!

  River Joe was another story. Tommy wasn’t quite sure what to do about the man, but somehow he had to get his revenge. Twice the white Indian had made him look bad in front of his friends, and now he was almost certain River Joe had been with Emma. How else would the man know about how Tommy’s face and head had been injured? Now the man had escaped. Tommy vowed he would find him eventually, even if he had to go to the top of the mountains. First he would go to Luke’s place and make sure Emma had gotten on that boat with Hank Toole.

  He groaned again as he attempted to sit up, wishing he had not drunk quite so much whiskey again tonight. But his pain had made it necessary. He wondered how many teeth he would lose from River Joe’s blow, and he realized that if he was ever to get back at the man, it probably couldn’t be with fists. He was strong, but River Joe was stronger. Somehow he had to find a way to make the man squirm, to make him suffer slowly, the way Emma would suffer when he got on top of her and did every ugly thing to her that he could think of.

  He felt a terrible thirst and sat up on the edge of his bed, running his hands through his tousled red hair. It seemed too dark, and he squinted, hearing then the dull rumble. It took him a moment to realize what it was. The river!

  He got up and walked to the window of the cabin he shared with his father. It sat on a rise at the outskirts of the MacBain settlement. He looked toward the little town, where lighted lanterns usually hung outside the buildings. But he could see nothing. As water began to trickle around his feet, he realized he couldn’t see the settlement because it was under water! He heard a louder rumble and he knew in an instant what was happening.

  “Pa!” He screamed the word, running through the darkness to his father’s cot. “Pa, the river! We’re gonna drown!”

  Already the water was around his ankles. The rumbling grew louder. “Pa, mud’s comin’! Get up! Get up!”

  He shook Jake Decker wildly, but the man had drunk even more whiskey than Tommy had. He groaned and turned over, telling Tommy to leave him alone. In seconds the water was around Tommy’s knees.

  “Pa!” he screamed again, tears coming to his eyes.

  An end wall of the cabin suddenly gave way with a mighty crack, and water roared around Tommy then, washing him over the top of his father’s cot, flinging him, helplessly, into the darkness. He grabbed on to a small tree that floated by and hung on for dear life as the water tossed him about. The roar was almost deafening, and he wondered what had happened to all the other people. He wanted to cry over his father, but there was no time for that. There was time only to think about surviving. His father had surely drowned under that first rush of water.

  “Smoke!” he screamed, remembering his horse. What had happened to his fine black horse? The thought of Smoke drowning hurt almost as much as his father’s drowning.

  He felt himself being tossed for what seemed miles, until finally his feet suddenly touched ground. Lightning flashed and he could see that he was on the side of a hill. He took advantage of the moment and began crawling uphill, hoping he could stay above the water. The Hiwassee continued to roar below him, and he climbed fast, so scared that it gave him the strength to clamber up the hill in spite of the ordeal he had just been through. He whimpered and called for Smoke all the way up, finally reaching the muddy crest of the hill.

  He turned, looking down, waiting for lightning to flash. When it did, he saw nothing but water below.

  “My God,” he groaned. He clung to another tree, ready to climb it if necessary, staring at the waters below every time lightning flashed. He had never seen anything like this. He hoped the raging flood would find River Joe and bury him. Maybe it would even get to the Jasmine, break it up, and throw Emma Simms into its swirling waters.

  He stood there panting, grinning at the thought of Emma struggling through the raging waters. It would serve her right. He remembered when she was smaller, when he held her by the ankles and dangled her headfirst into the river so that her dress fell upside down and he could look at her bloomers. He remembered how she had almost drowned, how terrified she had been, how she had cried. She had been afraid of the river ever since.

  He laughed then but felt like crying, too. Smoke was surely gone, and his father drowned, too, and maybe all his friends. He realized how lucky the Cherokee were at this moment, living high up in the mountains. It wasn’t fair, his father and friends dying, while the Cherokee would not be touched.

  In his twisted mind he blamed all this on River Joe and Emma. If Emma had not hurt him and turned him away, he would not even have been here these last couple of days. And if River Joe had not hit him, he would not have had to drink so much whiskey to ward off the pain. Maybe he would have awakened sooner and rescued his horse and his father.

  How he hoped both Emma and River Joe were dead! And if he ever found out they weren’t… He clenched his fists, feeling frustrated at being defeated first by Emma, then River Joe, now the river. He clung to the tree, crying like a child.

  Farther downriver the wall of mud and water continued on its destructive path, moving on to the Simms farm, swelling over cattle and pigs, sagging sheds and broken fences, swallowing up the dilapidated cabin and taking Luke Simms with it. The rocks and flowers and all markings around the grave of Betty Simms were washed away, along with the remains of an old, broken raft in that secret place along the normally quiet river, where Emma Simms had first spoken to a man called River Joe.

  Chapter 8

  Emma awoke to the sound of birds singing. A shaft of sunlight warmed her face and she stirred awake, feeling comfortable and warm under several blankets. At first her mind was blank. She remembered nothing of the day and night before as she lay there trying to get her bearings. She stared at what appeared to be the entrance to a cave, and outside the leaves looked bright green and the sun shone brightly. It seemed so long since she had last seen the sun shine.

  A fire crackled near the entrance, its smoke wafting into dark recesses above, pulled by a draft from some unknown source. She snu
ggled deeper, smelling the sweet odor of clean hides and realizing that beneath the animal skins that covered her, she was naked.

  Slowly the memories returned. Hank, pawing over her, her hands tied behind her, the storm, the raging river. The river. River! River had come and saved her. He had killed Hank Toole, and he had struggled through the horrible rising flood and the black woods in the midst of a terrible storm, taking her with him. Where were they now? What about the river? How high had it risen?

  Her heart tightened then when a horse whinnied, and a tall, commanding figure appeared at the cave entrance, ducking inside and glancing at her.

  “You finally awake?”

  “River?” She held the cover up around her as he came closer, and at first she felt a lingering fear. A magnificent, powerful man, River wore nothing but a loincloth. She had seen that power the night before when he killed Hank, had felt it when he managed to hang on to her after she jumped into the river. Now they were alone. No one else could have put her naked body under these blankets but River. Had he slept with her under the blankets? Where was he taking her? Would his attitude toward her change now that he had her alone? Surely not. He had come for her, saved her, risked his life for her. But she had also seen his vicious side. Now she would be totally dependent on him. Would he turn mean as Luke and Tommy and Hank had?

  He knelt beside her. “I have been worried about you. You have some kind of head injury. You better lie still all day today. I do not think we should keep going just yet.”

  She felt the tears coming. “I’m so mixed up,” she whimpered. “And scared.”

  He smiled the smile that always made her feel better. “There you go again. How many times do I have to tell you not to be afraid of things? You are not afraid of me, are you, after all I have been through for you? You are my wife, remember?”

  Her body jerked in a pitiful sob, and he came around behind her, sitting down on the other side of the bedroll and pulling her into his arms, gathering the covers around her. “Do not cry, Agiya. I know you have endured so much the last couple of weeks, and especially yesterday and last night.” He held her close, rocking her lightly, kissing her hair. “I do not want you to be afraid of anything anymore. Hank is dead, and Tommy and Luke may also have drowned. You are not going to Knoxville. You are going high up in the mountains with me, to the Cherokee where you will find a whole new life. I will take care of you. You are my woman now.”

  She had half-expected him to rip away her covering and demand to have his way with her again. Lovemaking was the last thing she wanted right now, even with River. That first night he took her now seemed like a dream. Everything was different now, new and strange. He seemed to sense her confusion.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “My head hurts bad.” She turned and noticed that the deep, open wound on the top of his left shoulder was scabbed but oozing. “What about you?” She moved back a little to look at the wound, touching the front of his chest lightly as she examined it.

  “I will survive.”

  Their eyes met then, and she noticed the small bruise under his left eye.

  “I am sorry, Emma. They held me at the MacBain settlement. I could not leave.”

  “I know. I’m just glad they didn’t hang you.”

  “I am glad I got to you when I did, or you would be swallowed up in that river. I have never seen anything like it, Emma. The big one came, just like I said it would. For a while this morning only the tops of trees that used to grow tall on the riverbank showed above the water. There cannot be much left. The flood is starting to recede a little now. But people are going to be too busy trying to salvage their homes and belongings to wonder about what might have happened to Hank and to you.”

  She studied the dark eyes, the handsome face. River Joe had claimed her, and he had come back for her. She was his woman now. Luke’s farm was surely gone, and all those who would harm her were dead. “Are you really here, River? Maybe I’m still unconscious and I’m just thinking all this in my mind.”

  “No. You are awake. I am really here, and I love you, Agiya.”

  She had so many questions. What would they do now? Where would they go? A quick, penetrating pain tore through her head as she lifted it, and she cried out. River eased her back into the crook of his arm.

  “Do not move around too much. I do not know much about head injuries, Emma, but I made an herbal tea that might help the pain.” He carefully laid her back down, leaning over her then and bending down to kiss her forehead. “We will not go anywhere today. No one is going to come looking for us this soon. But tomorrow we must leave. If you still feel dizzy and weak, I will make up a travois for you to lie on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I told you. To the Cherokee.”

  She blinked, putting a hand to her head. “Oh, yes. They… they won’t hurt me, will they, River?”

  He smiled again. “No, they will not hurt you.”

  She felt a tear slip down the side of her face. “River, I have to go… you know. Where… ?”

  He got to his knees and lifted her carefully, then stood up. “Try to keep your head still while I carry you into the woods.” He carried her outside. “There are nice, fresh sassafras leaves here to clean yourself with afterward,” he said. He lowered her carefully to her feet. “I had better stay and hang on to you.”

  “No!”

  “It is all right, Emma. If I let go of you, you will fall.”

  “No, I won’t.” Her head screamed, and the moment he released her the whole world swam and spun in front of her. She felt herself fainting, felt a strong arm catch her. By then she was too dizzy and in too much pain to care. He pulled up the blankets and held her, but she knew she couldn’t do it right, and she felt a wetness on her leg. She started to cry and he held her close again.

  Somewhere in the distant blackness she heard him saying not to worry about it, that he would take care of things. Then she was back inside the cave, grateful for a chance to sleep. She felt the covers pushed aside, felt something warm gently wipe her leg and her most private place. He was washing her but he wasn’t doing anything bad to her. She felt the covers being drawn over her again, and then there was nothing until a gentle arm slid under her neck and lifted her slightly.

  “Try to drink some of this,” said a deep, tender voice. “You will feel better. And you need to get something in your stomach, Agiya.”

  She sipped a sweet and aromatic drink. Dimly she wished she could help him, too. He was injured. She wanted desperately to get up and move around, but the pain was too great. How could this man who had sliced another man up the middle with his big knife, had fought Hank Toole and struck that same knife into Hank’s heart, be so gentle with her? How could someone so powerful have made love to her so sweetly?

  She took several swallows of the brew.

  “I am going to let you sleep now,” he said, “while I try to kill a rabbit or a squirrel. I have some smoked meat in my supplies, but I want to save it for my family if I can. I will hunt for fresh meat for us.” She felt him laying her back down. “I did not get to buy what I needed at the MacBain settlement; I will have to chance stopping at another settlement higher up. I doubt anybody that far away will have heard anything about you and me.” He kissed her cheek lightly. “You rest, Emma. I will be back soon and make you something very good to eat. Do not be afraid if you wake up and find me gone. Do you hear me, Emma?”

  “Yes,” someone said in a distant voice. Was it she who spoke?

  “Egasinee,” he said softly.

  She drifted off. Her mind floated, and it was night. She was lying in straw, and River Joe was hovering over her, his broad shoulders and long hair shielding her from anything beyond his body. His mouth was over hers, exploring, tasting, taking her to wonderful heights of ecstasy as his fingers touched her magically.

  How sweet was the dream. They were one, his hands grasping her hips and his body mating with he
rs, claiming her as his wife. Yes, she was his wife. No one could hurt her now. River Joe would protect her, love her. How wonderful it was to be loved.

  Then nightmares replaced the dream. A man was walking toward her. He was dirty and needed a shave, but he wore a fine suit. She backed away. The dream was changing. It was Hank, grinning. She stood there naked and he was coming for her. To her right she could see Luke. He was grinning, too. He made a fist, and it got bigger and bigger and turned into a rock. He was going to hit her with it. To her left a red-haired young man approached, riding a shiny black horse. He smiled, too. His blue eyes shot fire, and he dismounted. All three of them came closer now, leering at her naked body, threatening to beat her, telling her ugly things they would do to her. Hank reached out for her and she screamed and began flailing at him, pushing, scratching! Where was the board? She had to hit at them with the board!

  Someone grasped her arms. No! They would tie her wrists, and she would feel the pain between her legs. But whoever grabbed her only pushed her arms to her sides and then managed to pull her close. She was screaming, but this man was not hurting her. He held her in strong arms, rocked her.

  “Hush, Agiya. It is all right now. They will not hurt you again.”

  She could smell the scent of leather and fresh air, and a sweet scent like sassafras and leaves. She rested her head against something very soft, then opened her eyes and realized it was the velvety softness of finely cleaned and treated deerskin. Someone’s long hair brushed her face.

  “River,” she sobbed.

  “You have been sleeping a very long time,” he told her. “That is good. But you have had a bad dream. Think only of me, Agiya, and nice things, the wildflowers and the sunshine.”

  “Don’t go away.”

  “I will go nowhere now. The rabbit is all cooked. That is how long you have slept. Sleep more, if you wish. I have eaten, but I think it is more important for you to sleep than to eat, if that is what your body wants to do. I will hold you this time.”