“Hank was beating me, trying to rape me! River came and… I had no control over what he did.”
“But you run off with him anyway. You should have stayed put, Emma. Then folks would have believed you. But now…” He shrugged. “We’ll let Sam decide what to do with you.” He enjoyed the way she trembled. Why bother telling her Jim Jackson had already been hanged for Hank’s murder? Let her think the worst for now. Maybe it would make her more cooperative. “Might be you’ll have to agree to be Sam’s little whore. Him and me, we can keep you out of trouble, or we can hand you over for a trial and a hangin’. A trial could be messy and ugly, Emma, honey. All them questions right out in public about you and River Joe—your sex life—you bein’ with the Cherokee—sleepin’ with a Cherokee man who wasn’t even your husband. Fact is, River Joe wasn’t even your legal husband, not by white man’s standards. You was just a whore for the Cherokee, Emma. White folks at a trial ain’t gonna look kindly on a slut.”
She checked her anger. Deek Malone stood close by, grinning. “Why don’t you do what you’ve been wantin’ to do and get it over with, Tommy?” he asked. “I want my turn.”
Emma felt her stomach churning. Did Tommy mean to let every man there rape her?
“I want her to think about it awhile,” Tommy answered. “She hates my guts. Now she’s got to think about the fact that Tommy Decker is gonna have his turn at her, and he’s gonna do everything else he can think of.” He kept his eyes drilling into Emma’s. “I’m gonna know you inside and out when I’m through with you,” he said, leering as he moved his hands over her shoulders and breasts, down over her waist, suddenly ripping down her gown so that she stood naked in front of all of them.
“Whooee!” one of the men shouted, while others made ugly sounds and comments.
“You was right, Tommy,” another said. “She’s a looker all right. Hard to believe she’s had a couple of kids. Ain’t no woman I ever seen naked who had a couple of kids who looked like that. You make sure I’m second after you.”
“Deek is second,” Tommy answered, grinning at Emma the whole time. “I promised him. But you can be third, Len.”
“Well, get busy then.”
Tommy stared at her, still looking a little nervous over the way she just stood there staring at him. “Get the camp set up first,” he answered. “Put up my tent and build a fire.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her toward a tree. She stumbled over her gown, which was caught around her feet. She fell, and he half-dragged her then.
Every bone and muscle in Emma’s body ached from the long day’s ride and the emotional strain of her ordeal. She prayed again for some kind of miracle that would stop all of this. Tommy tied her wrists to an overhead branch so that her arms were stretched up.
“That should hold you till I’m ready for you,” he said. He stepped close to her then, grasping her bottom. “There’s only one reason I ain’t beatin’ on you, Emma Simms. There’s nothin’ I’d love more than to displace that jaw like you did mine—beat you till nobody can recognize you, use you like a damned punchin’ bag and keep at it till you’re dead!” he hissed. “I’ll never forget what you did to me. But I’m holdin’ off, and only because I want the money Sam Gates will pay to get you back. I don’t reckon he would like me bringin’ in a corpse, or a woman so beat up she’s permanently ugly from it. I’ve got to bring Sam Gates the pretty woman he’s expectin’, but I’ll by-God make you pay in other ways—ways that don’t show on the outside! And I’ll make you wish I beat you instead!”
He left her then, and again she concentrated on River and her children while the men made camp, all of them hardly able to take their eyes off her. They all seemed eager and ready to have their turn at her, and she could not get rid of the constant nausea in her stomach.
Suddenly it hit her then—a pain deep in her belly. It crawled through her insides, hard and deep, making her grimace with a need to draw up her legs. It reminded her of the cramps she sometimes felt when it was her time of the month, only these cramps were much worse, almost like labor pains.
She could not imagine at first what it could be. Perhaps it was brought on by the long ride. It was a long time since she had ridden that far, and combined with a lack of food and water and Tommy’s constant abuse, perhaps this was some kind of reaction.
She breathed easier for a moment, and then the pain hit her again, so hard that she cried out. She drew up one leg, unable to draw up both legs because then she would be hanging freely by her wrists. This pain brought tears to her eyes, and brought Tommy back over to her.
“What the hell are you yellin’ about?”
“Pain… my stomach…”
Tommy scowled. “I’ll give you pain in the stomach!” He punched her hard in the abdomen, and Emma screamed.
“Baby! My baby!” She knew it then, realizing with quick clarity what was causing the pain. “You’ll make me lose it!”
Tommy stepped back, his eyes wide with surprise. “Baby! You slut! You pregnant by that heathen Indian?”
Emma could not answer. She gasped in black pain, the only fear she had never been able to rid herself of now gripping her. The baby! She was losing the baby! It would be like her mother—the dreaded miscarriage! Maybe she would even die!
“Please… let me down!” she screamed. “Let me down! The pain!”
“Like hell, slut! I can’t beat you, but if I can make you suffer some other way, then I’ll do it!”
Tommy turned and walked away, and Emma felt a light, warm trickle down her inner right thigh. She knew without being able to look that it was blood. She would lose this precious baby. Fear and sorrow welled up in her soul, and although she knew it was music to Tommy’s ears, she could not help crying. The horrid pain came again, and she screamed with it, begging Tommy again to let her down. She needed to curl up, to be warm, to hold her belly. But no one came to help her.
Never had Emma Rivers known such devastating pain and sorrow. By the time Tommy cut her down, blood poured down her legs, and she was sure she was going to bleed to death as her mother had. Through all her ugly pain she heard Tommy and the other men cursing and fuming over the miscarriage.
“I ain’t layin’ with that,” one man grumped. “You sure messed this one up, Tommy Decker. We would have been better off bringin’ along that pretty little Cherokee girl we seen back there.”
“I can’t have a good time with no woman who just lost a baby, even if she’s a slut like that one,” another complained. “It just don’t seem right.”
“Shut up! All of you!” Tommy yelled.
Emma lay on a mat by the fire, curled up and groaning. Someone had finally had the decency to bring her a blanket to cover her. She felt blood everywhere, but no one attempted to clean her up. She wept deep, wrenching sobs at the memory of Tommy’s ugly words when he cut her down. “What the hell is this?” he had said with disgust. “Hell, she’s done lost a baby, I’ll bet,” someone else had answered. “See that? That’s the beginnin’s of a damned baby.” “Jesus!” Tommy had answered.
“Throw it away, you idiot,” came the other voice.
Her baby! She had lost it while hanging from the tree. Tommy had just thrown it away like a piece of garbage. It should be buried, no matter how tiny and lifeless it was, no matter if it didn’t even resemble a human being yet. “River, River,” she sobbed.
“Shut up over there!” Tommy yelled. “Your white buck’s dead—he ain’t comin’ for you—so shut up! I’m still takin’ you to Knoxville. And soon as you’re well, I’m still takin’ what’s comin’ to me!”
Emma curled up tighter near the fire, rocking with pain. Maybe this was best. It was highly unusual for a woman to get pregnant so quickly after giving birth, especially when she was breast-feeding. That was what the Cherokee women had told her. Perhaps the Maker of Breath had deliberately let it happen to her, knowing this moment was coming. She had prayed for a miracle, something that would keep Tommy and the others awa
y from her. She had been given that miracle, in the form of a miscarriage.
In a way, River had helped her again, for it was his seed that had planted the child in her womb. Now she had lost it, but losing it had saved her from a multiple rape, had kept her still belonging only to River.
But the fact remained that she had lost a child. It was her baby, hers and River’s. Now it was dead, and she might die herself. She was getting no medical attention. No one would even clean her up.
She heard someone walk up behind her then. “I’ll stick you in a creek soon as we find one,” Tommy said. “Got to wash that blood off you. By the time we get to Knoxville, you ought to be all healed up and presentable for Sam Gates. It’s a damned good thing this happened now and not then.”
She remained turned away, her back to him. “I’ll die… like Mama,” she mumbled.
“You better not! You’ll cost me money if you die, bitch!”
“Water. I need… a drink of water,” she groaned.
“Damn!” Tommy muttered. “What damned bad luck! You’ve always been bad luck for me, Emma Simms!” He left for a moment, then returned, jerking her up to a sitting position so that she cried out with pain. “Here! Here’s your damned water,” he grumped. He put a canteen to her lips and held it up, forcing her to drink in quick gulps.
He shoved her back down then. “What a damned mess,” he fumed. “If I want my money, I got to take you back to Sam Gates in one piece, well and still lookin’ good. You know what that means? It means I got to take care of you, bitch! I’ve got to clean up your mess and keep you fed and watered like a prized horse that’s took sick! I ain’t sure you’re worth the bother, you know that? I ought to leave you here to die alone!”
“You better take her to Sam,” Deek Malone cut in. “Damn you, Tommy Decker, we come all this way and went through all this hell to find that damned girl. Now we’re gonna get that reward, or you’re gonna pay with your hide. You better take care of her and keep her alive!”
Tommy swung around, fists clenched. “Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?”
“The dumb son-of-a-bitch who brought us up here on a wild goose chase,” Deek answered boldly, tired of Tommy’s bossiness. “I thought I’d get a good piece of woman out of this, and there she lays, bleedin’ all over the place. It’s about to make me sick!”
“Then go away someplace and puke!” Tommy sneered. “Get out of my sight before I beat the hell out of you, Deek Malone!”
After a pause, Deek finally answered, “Try it,” his voice firm and sure.
There was another moment of silence. “Go to hell,” Tommy replied then. “We’ll settle this another time. Right now I’ve got to keep this bitch alive long enough to collect a reward.” He spoke up louder: “Everybody turn in. We’re gonna ride hard tomorrow. If we keep at it, we can be back to Knoxville in a couple of weeks.”
“What about the woman?” someone asked. “She’s bleedin’ all over the place. How you gonna move her? She might die on you, Tommy.”
“If she dies, she dies. Make up somethin’ to carry her—a blanket and poles we can tie to a horse. She’ll be over the heavy bleedin’ soon. By the time we get to Knoxville, she should be over all of it, and we’ll still have a good-lookin’ woman to present to Sam.”
Emma groaned at the thought of having to travel in her condition. Never had she known such pain and agony as this. Now she understood the hell her mother had gone through. She could only pray she would not die from this. River! She had to think of River. He would come for her, and she would be with her babies again, her precious Rachael and her chubby, sweet Joshua. Somehow, someday, they would all be together again. She had to believe it. She had to cling to life, for the sake of Rachael and Joshua—and River. Surely he would come, and this nightmare would be over.
She clung to thoughts that made all this bearable—the miscarriage had kept Tommy away from her; and River Joe was still alive and would come for her. All she had to do now was survive the rest of this trip. But another challenge awaited her when she arrived in Knoxville. What would Sam Gates do with her?
It was two days before River came out of his deep sleep and looked around the little cabin. He lay quietly at first, gathering his thoughts. He remembered Emma telling him she loved him, telling him it would soon be over and he would be all right. And he remembered the pain, the horrible, burning pain.
He closed his eyes against the memory, turning his head and looking toward Rachael’s cradle. He realized then that he was getting better. He had turned his head and felt no pain. He stared at the cradle, finding joy in the fact that he could move his head, but seeing that the cradle was empty. Emma must be feeding the baby.
He slowly turned his head the other way, waiting for the pain to come. But there was none. He saw Grace standing over a kettle at the fireplace. Emma was not there, nor were the children.
“Grace,” he muttered weakly.
She turned, wiping her hands on an apron and hurrying over to the bed. “Joe! Joe, you’re finally awake. How do you feel?”
“I am not… sure yet.” He raised his good arm and put a hand to his eyes, then ran it through his hair. “Where is Emma? Go and get her, will you? I want her to know I am awake and I can turn my head. See?” He moved his head back and forth. “I am better, Grace.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Joe!”
He met her eyes and was sure he detected tears in them. “Something wrong, Grace?”
She patted his chest. “You lie still and get your rest. I have some soup ready. Let me go and get Peter. I will be right back.”
He watched her go quickly to the door. “Grace, what is it? What’s wrong? Where is Emma?”
“Wait… just a few minutes, Joe. Everything will be all right.”
He frowned, an ugly dread moving through his blood. He tried to sit up and cursed his weakness. He couldn’t even raise his head off the pillow, and pain coursed through his whole right side. He was better but certainly not healed.
He looked over again at the empty cradle. Had something happened to Rachael? Joshua? Had they lied to him about Joshua being all right? This was the first time he had been fully conscious and lucid since the bear attack. Maybe his memory of Emma holding Joshua for him to see had been just an hallucination. Maybe Joshua was dead. Maybe Emma had come to help him and she was hurt, too.
But no. She had been with him when Ramona burned out the wound. He was sure of it. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind while his heart beat harder with dread.
Finally Grace returned. Peter was with her, and Mary and Red Wolf and Martin. Old Ramona followed behind, but Emma was not there. He vaguely remembered her saying something about possibly being pregnant again, just before Ramona burned out the wound. Had she miscarried? Had she died from it? Why did they all look so solemn, and why did Mary look ready to burst into tears?
“Joe, you’re better!” Mary said, hurrying to the bed. “Finally! Thank God! You are the only one who can help!”
“Hush, Mary,” Grace said in a motherly fashion.
“Help what?” River’s face remained grim. “What the hell is going on? Where is Emma?”
Ramona bent over him, taking the bandage from his wound and inspecting it. “Much better. The infection is leaving you, Unega.” She straightened. “You are a man who should hear things straight out. The others love you too much to tell you. So I will tell you, Joe. White men came. They took your Emma.”
River’s face darkened and his eyes blazed. “What the hell are you talking about! Where is Emma? Who took her? Did one of them have red hair?” He tried again to sit up but could not. Ramona bent over him, grasping his arms, while Mary began to cry.
“Yes. They were led by the white one with red hair—the one who calls himself Tommy. She begged us not to fight for her—to let them take her and to say you were dead. It was the only way to save your life and to keep them from harming your children. It was a smart thing your woman di
d, and brave. She is a white woman of courage who knows how to think. She saved your life by going with them.”
River reached up with his good hand, grasping Ramona’s arm almost painfully. “When? When did this happen?”
“Joe, you will hurt Ramona. She is an old woman,” Grace said calmly.
Tears of anger and helplessness quickly filled River’s eyes. He let go of Ramona and the old woman straightened. “Two days,” she replied. “They said they will take her to Knoxville, to a white man called Sam Gates. Emma knew that if you remained alive and got well, you would go and get her. It is her only hope. It will sustain her through whatever they do to her.”
River groaned with the realization of what that would be. “Emma! Emma! My God!” He rolled to his left side, trying again to sit up by using his good arm to push himself. Quickly Grace moved to force him back down. Peter moved to the other side of the bed to help.
“Be smart, white man!” Ramona barked. “Your woman needs your help. You cannot help her like this. You must heal first and be very strong. Then and only then can you go to your woman. She is smart, and she is strong and brave. She will survive until you come for her.”
River lay groaning with the agony of it. Emma! Emma in the hands of Tommy Decker! Death would be better. And if he did take her all the way to Knoxville, what did Sam Gates have in store for her?
“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!” he growled through clenched teeth. “That bastard! I’ll kill them all!”
“You will have to be careful, Joe,” Peter said. “You will be in white man’s territory. If you are caught—”
“It does not matter! If I can get her away from there it does not matter!” He breathed deeply for control, realizing that old Ramona was right. He was in no condition to go after her. “They came and took her… while I lay helpless like a damned coward,” he groaned.
“You are no coward. Your woman knows that,” Ramona said. “She knows that you are a brave man who will come for her as soon as your body allows it. The best thing you can do for her now is to lie still and heal—eat and rest, Joe. You will need your strength and cunning.”
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