Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01]

by Wild Sweet Wilderness

  Fain stepped around the corner of the house and headed for the shed. He stopped short. Two men were coming into the house yard from the south. They were less than a hundred feet away. His first thought was that he’d left his rifle leaning against the cabin wall. His second thought was—why hadn’t Olson warned him of the strangers’ approach?

  One of the men walked slightly ahead of the other. He was dressed in a white silk shirt with flowing sleeves cuffed at the wrist. His tan breeches were fashionably tight, and the legs were tucked into shiny black boots. He wore a broad blue ascot looped beneath his chin and a feathered, three-cornered hat. The musket in his belt looked to be silver plated. Fain instinctively noted the gun. It was second nature for him to notice firearms.

  The other man wore the loose breeches and heavy boots of a riverman. A knife hung from his belt and he carried a long gun.

  These observations took only a few seconds; then recognition, followed by relief so great that he let loose with a bellow of welcome.

  “Fish! Damned if I didn’t think the governor’d come to call!” He strode forward and held out his hand.

  “Hello, Fain. I take it you’re surprised to see me.”

  “Surprised to see ya so all gussied up, boy. How be ya?”

  “I couldn’t be better. Is Simon around?”

  “No, lad. We’ve had a heap of trouble since ya left. Berry took off to try ’n’ find the land her pa filed on the same mornin’ ya took off down the river. Simon’s gone a-lookin’ for her. He’s been gone more’n a week. I’m afeared the girl’s come to grief.”

  “It’s possible he found her and they’re spending some time upriver at his homestead.” Fish didn’t seem surprised or concerned about Berry, but that fact didn’t register with Fain until later.

  “Could be they did that,” Fain agreed. “But it’s not like the girl to not c’mon back and set Rachel’s mind to rest.”

  Fain’s eyes honed in on the man who stood behind and to the side of Fish. His feet were spread, he held a rifle up and under his arm, and his eyes roamed. He was a big man, almost as big as Fain. The two of them dwarfed Fish. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Emil Harrison,” Fish said without looking at the man, pointedly refusing to introduce him. “Have you got the kinks worked out of the breechloader yet?”

  “I’ve not worked on it since ya left.”

  “You made some progress on it before I left.”

  His tone caused Fain’s eyes to narrow and gave him a stab of irritation. “Nothin’ much come of it,” he said and shrugged. Then, wanting to change the subject, he said, “Ya look fine, boy. Ya look quality.”

  “I am quality.”

  Hearing the hardness in the voice, Fain jerked his eyes to meet the cold blue ones of the man who had enjoyed his hospitality for the past several months. There was an aloof look of superiority on Fish’s face that made Fain angry, then a quiver of apprehension traveled the length of his spine. However, he allowed none of it to show in his face, and was about to make a laughing apology, but Fish cut him off.

  “Is Berry’s nigger here?”

  “He’s over back of the cabin. We’re diggin’ a cellar.” Something in Fish’s face and the other man’s attitude prompted Fain to add, “One of Simon’s freighters is here, and I’m a-lookin’ for Lardy anytime.” There was a frozen moment of silence. Fain broke it by saying, “C’mon and see Rachel, Fish. She’ll be glad to see ya.”

  “My name is Edmund Aston Carwild.”

  Fain’s eyes flicked from Fish’s suddenly flushed face to the other man. When had the rifle barrel tilted in his direction? He looked back at Fish, searching for some glimmer of the lad whom Eben had fished out of the river and who had stayed on wanting to learn gunsmithing. The face was not the same. It no longer looked boyish. The face of this man was etched in uncompromising lines. The body was the same, but it was held stiffly, arrogantly. Fain’s mind was in an uproar. Something was going to happen, and he was powerless to stop it.

  “I knowed about the Edmund Aston part. Ya never let on the other name riled ya.”

  “It did and it does,” Fish said flatly. “But a man learns to swallow his pride . . . when necessary.”

  “Is that right?” Fain said sarcastically. He made no pretense now of being amicable. He felt a tightening in his chest. There was something deadly here. There was no doubt that Fish was going to turn aside every effort to be friendly. It would be best to get it all out in the open, so that Fain would know what he was facing. His eyes shifted to the man with the rifle. He’d seen his type roaming the river: a man who would slit his own mother’s throat for a gold coin. “It’s plain you’re not friendly, Mister Carwild. Spit it out. What’s eatin’ atcha?”

  “You’ve got something I want, Mister MacCartney—the breechloader.”

  “The hell you do!” Now Fain looked like a different person. The amiable man was replaced by a deadly sober one with a tight mouth and hard, fierce eyes. Anger was stamped on his face and in every line of his body.

  Fish raised his brows into a haughty, contemptuous line. “Why do you think I hung around here these past few months? It certainly wasn’t because I enjoyed living in a hovel. It wasn’t because I was stimulated by your brilliant conversation, and it wasn’t because I wanted to earn a miserly living as a gunsmith. Think, Fain. Your little secret found its way all the way downriver to Natchez.”

  “Ya’ll get that breechloader over my dead body!” Fain roared.

  “If that’s what it takes, Fain. I’ll get it, and over your wife’s, too.” He tipped his head toward the cabin.

  Fain’s eyes followed the gesture. A thin, rangy man with a black beard and black hair stood in the doorway. He was armed with a rifle and a musket. Fain froze as fear gripped him, but his rage came boiling out.

  “Ya stinkin’ low-lifed fop! Ya cowardly sonofabitch! If’n a one of ya lays a hand on my wife I’ll snuff ya out like ya was a chicken!” His huge fist clenched and unclenched. The rifle that nudged his belly was the only thing that kept him from grabbing Fish by the throat.

  “Calm yourself. You’re one against three, soon to be four. Don’t do anything foolish. You and the nigger can’t stand against us.”

  “You’re forgettin’ Olson and Lardy!”

  “Don’t count on Olson and Lardy.”

  Fain opened his mouth, then snapped it shut when the import of the words sank into the turmoil in his mind.

  “God Almighty! Ya murderin’ sonofabitch!”

  “Don’t think to rile me by calling my mother a bitch. She was one. Now, are you going to cooperate, or will I have to send Jackson in there to have a little sport with Rachel?”

  Somehow Fain managed to fill his lungs with air. “Ya can have the goddamn rifle, but I warn ya, Fish . . .”

  “Mister Carwild. Don’t insult me by calling me that name again.”

  “Ya killed Eben!” The words burst from Fain’s lips as the thought invaded his mind. “The man saved your miserable life!”

  Fish laughed. “He thought he did. I swim like a . . . fish. He was useful for a while, but he was only a nigger. Eben was sly. He did a lot of snooping. I shouldn’t have been so quick. I should have taught him a lesson before I killed him.”

  Fain was speechless. He shook his head numbly. “I just wouldn’t-a thought it of ya.”

  Fish laughed again. “I’m a good actor. I should be, I’ve had the best training London has to offer,” he added dryly.

  Fain examined the smirking face with its belligerent blue eyes. “Jesus Christ! I admit I was fooled. Take the gun and go.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll wait until you finish it. I’ll give you two days. Meanwhile, one of my men will keep Rachel company in the cabin.”

  Fain started forward but was stopped by the hard probe of the rifle barrel in his stomach. “If’n you scum touch ’er, I’ll . . .”

  “That’ll depend on you. Oh, Israel,” Fish called. “Come here, boy.”

  Israel hadn�
��t heard what the white men were talking about, but he saw the rifle barrel against Fain’s stomach. Something was wrong, he knew, and Fish was part of it.

  “Yassuh.” Israel hid his fear behind the mask of a simpleton.

  “My men and I will be here for a few days. I’ll need you to stay close in case I need you. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yassuh.”

  “Do you know what will happen to you if you disobey me?”

  “Nawsuh.”

  “You must have helped Fain bury Eben. I cut his throat from ear to ear.” Fish whipped out a small dirk and held it against Israel’s windpipe.

  “Ah . . . ah . . .” He rolled his eyes helplessly toward Fain.

  “I know,” Fish said as if talking to a child. He removed the dirk. “You’ll mind me, won’t you? Now go tell Rachel she can serve the noon meal.”

  “I wanta talk to my wife.” Fain angrily thrust the rifle away from him.

  “Of course. We’ll both talk to her.” Fish walked beside him toward the cabin, and the man with the rifle fell in behind.

  Rachel stood silently waiting in the doorway, her face white, her hands clenched together in front of her. Israel passed her without looking at her and disappeared around the corner of the house. She backed away from the doorway as the men approached.

  “Stand over the kid, Jackson. If either of them makes a bad move, bash its head with your rifle butt.”

  “Nooooo . . . !” Rachel screamed and ran toward the cradle. Emil grabbed her arm and jerked her to a halt.

  “Get your hands off her!” Fain roared and lunged forward.

  Moving swiftly, Jackson stepped between them and clubbed Fain on the side of the head with his rifle barrel. Fain staggered but didn’t fall. He swore viciously and shook his head like a maddened bull, spattering blood from his wound over the rest of his face.

  “Rachel,” Fish said evenly, “unless you want me to hurt Fain or the baby, do as I say. We will be here until Fain gives me the breechloader. One of my men will stay here with you, just to make sure Fain works swiftly and diligently. And, Fain, if you had worked steadily on that rifle and completed it, I’d have taken it off your hands and none of this would be happening. Tut . . . tut . . .” He shook his head in mock dismay. “You’ve developed some sloppy work habits since you took a wife.”

  “I don’t understand you,” Rachel said. “You were always such a . . . gentleman.”

  “I am a gentleman, Rachel.” Fish grinned, picked up a cloth that lay on the work counter, and tossed it to her. “Bind up Fain’s head. I don’t want him to bleed to death. Then put the meal on the table and we’ll sit down and eat like civilized folk.”

  Rachel poured water into the washbasin and wet the cloth. Her frightened heart was throbbing so violently that she was having a hard time breathing. She passed the cradle on her way to Fain and glanced down at the sleeping child. Jackson swung a chair over beside the cradle and sat down. He placed his rifle across his knees, the barrel pointed at Fain. Rachel looked into his hard black eyes and saw no mercy there.

  She knew that the wound on Fain’s forehead should be stitched, and she told him so. He shook his head numbly, his eyes holding hers, trying to tell her how sorry he was that he had allowed them to get into this fix. Rachel didn’t speak. She stopped the bleeding with wet compresses and bound a strip of cloth around his head to hold them in place. Before she left him she pressed his shoulder reassuringly. Her features were composed, her hands steady. She’d not shame him by breaking down. She walked calmly to the door and threw the bloody water out into the yard.

  Swiftly and efficiently she dished up the meat and cabbage from the kettle and took corn pone from the griddle. Not a word was spoken until she looked at her husband and nodded.

  Fain made no move toward the table.

  “You’d better eat, Fain,” Fish said. “You’ll be working until that gun is finished.” He carefully removed his hat and hung it on the peg beside the door, then smoothed his blond hair and straightened his ascot.

  “I wanta talk to my wife.”

  “That’s a reasonable request—but eat first.” Fish seemed to delight in having the upper hand.

  Fain sat in his customary place at the head of the table. Fish and Emil sat on the same side. Rachel stood beside the fireplace and spooned more corn pone onto the griddle. Jackson remained sitting beside the cradle. To add to Rachel’s irritation, he spat on her clean floor.

  Emil filled his bowl and slurped noisily. When he pounded his mug against the table to demand more, Rachel grabbed it angrily out of his hand. Fain scarcely touched his meal, and Fish ate his daintily.

  “I take my tea with milk, Rachel,” he said as if speaking to a serving girl.

  Always before it had been Miss Rachel or Mrs. MacCartney. Rachel prayed that Fain wouldn’t notice the lack of respect and make a fuss. Fish looked at her now as if he despised her. Why? It was as if he had never eaten at her table, laughed, visited, and politely offered to fetch water or firewood. But she didn’t have time to ponder this. Fain pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

  “I’ll speak to my wife . . . now!”

  “Go ahead,” Fish said pleasantly. “We’ll not wake the child. Stay in the dogtrot where I can see you. Remember”—his voice hardened—“it wouldn’t bother me at all to bust the little bastard’s head.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fain took Rachel’s hand and they went out the door. On the far side of the dogtrot, he turned his back to the watching eyes and pulled her in front of him.

  “What’s happened to him? What does he want?” Rachel whispered urgently.

  “The bastard wants my breechloader. Jesus Christ! I was blind to him. Now that I think of it, Jeff and Will had a queer feelin’ about him—they said as much.” His big hands gripped her shoulders. “I ain’t sure what he’ll do if’n I give the breechloader to him. I gotta stall, darlin’. I gotta stall ’n’ hope somethin’ happens to give me a edge.”

  “Lardy should be comin’ anytime,” Rachel said hopefully. Then, as if suddenly remembering: “I’ll send Israel with some dinner for Mr. Olson.”

  Fain hesitated. “He ain’t around. He might’ve took to the woods. He might’ve gone for help, but we can’t count on it.”

  “Fain! Look at me. They killed him! Merciful heaven!”

  Fain didn’t deny it. “If ya get a chance, get a musket out of the chest and hide it in your apron. Don’t use it less’n they’re a-forcin’ ya. Understand?”

  Rachel nodded. “I’m afraid for you. Don’t lose your temper . . . please. . . .”

  “Hold Faith as much as ya can. Pinch her to make her cry, if’n ya have to.” He put his lips to her ear and spoke rapidly. “Lordy, what I wouldn’t give to see Will and Jeff and Light. But there’s not much chance. Will and Jeff are in Natchez, ’n’ no tellin’ where Light is.” He bent and kissed her trembling mouth.

  “You think they’ll kill us after you give them the gun, don’t you?”

  “Nooo . . . There’d be no reason. . . .”

  “Don’t try to keep it from me, love.” She placed her fingers on his lips. Fain refused to meet her eyes. He closed his and kissed her hard. “I don’t understand why he’d do this for one gun,” Rachel whispered and pressed her forehead to his chin.

  “He’ll take it back east, register it in his name like it was his. Then he’ll get a gunsmith to make up a batch. Loadin’ c’n be done in half the time. Think what that would mean durin’ a war.”

  “Fain!” Fish said sharply from the doorway. “There’s only one musket and two rifles in here.” A helpless groan escaped Fain’s throat. “Did Berry take one of the muskets?” When neither Fain nor Rachel answered him, Fish shrugged and crossed to the other room. He came out minutes later with two more rifles. He handed them to Emil, who looked them over with a greedy gleam in his eye.

  “Now ’ere’s a gun, guv’nor,” he said, revealing a cockney accent. He lifted one of the guns and sighte
d down the barrel. His rough hands caressed the smooth stock.

  Fish laughed. “There’s a dozen more in there just like it.”

  “Ya bloody well hit the mark, guv’!”

  “My friend Fain is cagey, Emil. They’re all without firing pins.”

  “My gawd!”

  “We’ll take care of that before we leave. I’m sure Fain can be . . . persuaded to give us the missing part.”

  “’At ain’t all we’ll take care of, guv’!” His bloodshot, watery eyes roamed over Rachel. “She’s a foine-bodied wench. I’ve ’ad me aplenty, but I ain’t ’ad me one like ’er.”

  “Ya goddamn English bastard! Ya lay a hand on my woman ’n’ I’ll strip the goddamn flesh off’n your mangy bones!” Fain almost exploded with anger.

  “Give me the breechloader, Fain, and you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll keep my men under control.” Fish stuck his head through the doorway and called to Jackson, “I’m going out to the shack where Fain works. Emil will keep watch. You know what to do if there’s trouble.”

  Rachel heard Faith crying. Reluctant to leave Fain, her eyes clung to his. Her heart almost broke at the helpless look she saw in their depths.

  “Try not to worry. We’ll be all right,” she said, forcing her voice to be steady although her insides were a mishmash of tangled nerves and her heart was beating altogether too fast. She placed a soft kiss on Fain’s lips and left him.

  Faith was crying lustily, her arms and legs waving and kicking. Jackson sat with his chair tilted back against the wall. As soon as Rachel entered the room, his black eyes squinted and he stared at her without blinking. She snatched the baby up and retreated to the far side of the room. With her back to him, she unbuttoned her dress and put the baby to her breast. Faith whimpered until her hungry little mouth found Rachel’s nipple.