“Turn ’round.”
Rachel froze on hearing the softly spoken command. She looked over her shoulder as the two front legs of the chair struck the floor.
“Sit.” He indicated the rocking chair that was scarcely three feet from where he sat. Rachel stayed where she was, hugging the small, warm body close to her. “Ain’t goin’ ta tell ya agin.”
Fear caused her legs to tremble. She snatched a cloth from the workbench and draped it over her breast and the baby’s face. With every ounce of courage she could muster, she lifted her head proudly, moved to the rocker, and sat down. A big, rough hand grabbed the cloth and jerked it away. Her face flamed, but she refused to look at him. She could feel his eyes as acutely as if they were stroking her flesh.
“I likes ta look at titties.”
The blunt words caused a crimson tide to flood her face. She lifted the baby higher, trying to shield her breast from his eyes. He reached out with the rifle barrel and prodded her arm down. She looked up in alarm. He was grinning at her. He had two front teeth missing. While she watched, he spat between the gaps. The spittle hit the floor with a splash. Rachel shivered with disgust—he was sickening!
“I nussed a squaw’s titties a few winters back when I come down with the ague. Ever since I get me a cravin’ for nussin’.”
The horror of what he was implying caused hot rage to bubble up out of Rachel. He was an animal! At that moment she decided there were things worse than death.
“You’re a filthy excuse for a man! I’ll die before I let you touch me! I’ll kill myself and my child. Then how will you force my husband to finish the gun?”
“Shee-it! I ain’t carin’ if’n that sissy little fop gets that gun. What’s here is more’n enough for me. I’ll nuss ya when the time’s right. Ya’ll not make no fuss, neither—if’n I hang that youngun up by its heels.”
Rachel looked into the dark abyss of his eyes, searching for some spark of human compassion. There was only animal lust and cold indifference. She opened her mouth to fling condemning words at him, then closed it. Nothing she could say would penetrate the hard shell of his conscience.
He laughed when he saw the despair written on her face, then he spat again. Her despair changed to revulsion, but she forced herself to speak with some semblence of control.
“If you’re going to eat, do it. I must clear away the nooning and start the supper meal.”
“Ya can bring it ta me. I ain’t had a sightly woman dishin’ up my vittles for a spell.”
When the baby’s small stomach was full she went back to sleep. Rachel slipped her nipple from the baby’s mouth and closed her dress almost in the same motion. The child was wet, but she couldn’t bring herself to bend over the cradle to change her with Jackson sitting so close. She had decided she would scream as loud as she could if he grabbed her. She was almost sure that Fish would come if he heard her. He wanted Fain to stay calm so that he could work on the gun.
Rachel almost breathed a sigh of relief when Fish came into the room. “If I remember right, there’s another rifle around here. Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied curtly. “I’ve never concerned myself with Fain’s guns. I know nothing about them.”
“You know enough to kill a man with one—or was it two?” His eyes flicked over her arrogantly.
Rachel returned his look contemptuously. He’s a little man trying to act big, she thought. I wonder if he resents his size? She almost voiced the question, then she said, “We were defending ourselves, as you know.”
He ignored what she said. “There’s another rifle around here. Where is it?”
“Simon may have taken it when he went to look for Berry, or it may be the one Fain sold.” Rachel dished up a bowl of meat and cabbage from the pot, stuck a spoon into it, and handed it to Jackson, who managed to touch her hand when he took it.
“Who’d he sell it to?”
“I don’t know. I just heard him say he sold one to someone passing on the river. I don’t know if it was before or after you left.”
“Fain said he sold it to a trapper.”
“He don’t bring riffraff to the house, as you well know.” Rachel tried not to let the relief show in her voice. How lucky that both of them had hit upon the same reason for a gun to be missing!
“An old friend of yours will be here sometime this evening. You remember Linc Smith? You or Berry killed his partner and Berry shot him in the face. He’s not a pretty sight to look at these days.”
Rachel felt the color drain from her face. She seemed to go numb. She closed her eyes in an effort to control the darkness that threatened to close in on her. Thank God her back was to him and he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing his words were like a blow to her midsection. Her mind registered the sound of Jackson wolfing down his food. By the time she turned to face Fish, she was in control once again.
“He was never a pretty sight to look at.”
“He’s worse now. He lives to get his hands on Berry. Do you think he’d be satisfied if I deliver you up to him?”
“Men such as you and Linc Smith are never satisfied.”
“Maybe.” He strutted around the room, looked out the window, then spun around on his heels as if he were performing on the stage. “I’m a whole lot smarter than you give me credit for, Rachel. I got Berry out of the way. She couldn’t see me as poor Fish, but she’ll change her tune when she meets Edmund Aston Carwild in Saint Charles in a few days.”
“You’ve . . . got Berry?” At that moment Rachel could have killed him with her bare hands.
He laughed at the shocked expression on her face. “She wanted to find her pa’s miserable land. I pointed it out to her on the map and then made arrangements for a couple of Indians I know to meet her there. Those two will do anything for horses. They’ll bring her to me, if they want the fifty head of horses I’ve promised them.” He paused dramatically. “It’s better than Linc Smith getting his hands on her. Don’t you agree it was a smart move?”
“Fifty head? Shee-it!” Jackson said. “Thar ain’t that many horses in one bunch this side of the river!”
“I know it and you know it, but the Shawnee don’t know it,” Fish stated sternly, angered by Jackson’s input into the conversation. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his breeches and spread his legs. “Berry will be a sensation in London and Paris dressed as the wife of Edmund Carwild should be dressed.”
Rachel could hardly stand to look at him. He reminded her of a bantam rooster they had on the farm in Ohio. All he could do was strut and crow!
“Simon will find Berry. Fain says there’s not a better tracker in the territory than Light, and he taught Simon.”
Fish shrugged. “I told them to expect Simon to catch up. They’ll know what to do. Linc made a trip up to his place to see if he had doubled back. Light went downriver with a bunch of Osage, and Will and Jeff are in Natchez, so we’ll not be troubled by them.”
“More!” Jackson pounded the floor with his bowl. Faith woke, let out a whimper, and went back to sleep.
“Get it yourself!” Rachel hissed and turned back to the work bench. There was silence; she waited breathlessly. Then she heard the clang of the dipper being dipped into the iron pot. Filthy animals! Varmints! Linc Smith coming here! Oh, my God! And I thought Asa Warfield the lowest of all humans!
“Where’s the nigger?” Fish asked, then went to the door and yelled, “Israel!”
“Yassuh?” Israel appeared almost instantly.
“What are you doing?”
“Diggin’ the cellar.”
“Get a bucket of water.”
“Yassuh.” Israel sidled into the kitchen and picked up the bucket.
“See if there are any eggs,” Fish said. “And kill a chicken—”
“No!” Rachel said firmly. “We’ve got meat in the smokehouse.”
“Kill a chicken, Israel. A fat hen.” Fish followed him to the door. “I want chicken and dumplings tonight, Rache
l. You made it once before with prairie chicken. It’ll be better with a nice fat hen.”
The snort that came from Jackson irritated her and she turned on him. “You . . . shut up!”
When Israel brought the plucked, gutted chicken, Rachel tightened her lips and took it from his hand. What did it matter? They’d be killed as soon as Fish had the gun. She felt so helpless, and so sorry for Faith. At least she and Fain had lived and loved. Faith’s life had just begun. There was no danger that the child could tell what had happened here. They couldn’t be that cruel! Rachel felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them away.
Almost as soon as Rachel began to pick the pin-feathers from the tough skin of the chicken, she realized that Israel had killed the crippled old rooster that had lost his harem of hens to the spry young rooster Simon had brought. She almost smiled. Israel knew how she treasured those hens! She wondered if he had thought to clean the chicken away from the house so that Fish wouldn’t notice the red feathers. Her hens were fluffy white. She hurried with cleaning, cut the meat and covered it with water, and swung the pot over the flame.
The silent man who watched her made her flesh crawl. She went to the cradle and picked up the baby. Faith was sopping wet, as Rachel had known she would be. Ignoring the eyes that followed her every move, she took cloth and a dry gown from the chest and changed the baby’s clothes on the kitchen table. When she finished, she held the child upright against her shoulder and walked out the door.
She heard the front legs of the chair hit the floor, then felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Jackson moved fast for a big man—she would remember that.
“Where’re you goin’?”
“To get my dry wash.” She shrugged away from his hand.
“Leave the youngun.”
“I’ll not do it,” she said harshly. “You’ve got a gun. Are you such a poor shot you’re scared a woman carryin’ a babe’ll get away from you?” she taunted.
“I c’n hit a jaybird in the arse at eighty yards.”
“My husband can knock a gnat off a jaybird at a hundred yards and not ruffle a feather,” she retorted. She turned her back and looked around. She knew that Fain and Fish would be in the old cabin where Fish had stayed when he lived here and where Fain now worked on his guns. Israel was nowhere to be seen, so she called his name. He appeared, like a shadow, from around the corner of the freight wagons.
Rachel went toward him and said, “Help me get my wash off the bushes.” She walked past him and he followed. Holding Faith to her with one arm, she carefully lifted the clothes from the thorny bushes with the other and piled them in Israel’s arms. Jackson stood in the yard and watched. She was facing him, so she didn’t dare speak to Israel. Even if Jackson couldn’t hear what she was saying, he would see her lips move.
“Hide the gun for mastah in cellar dirt . . .” The words were the merest whisper.
Rachel’s startled eyes sought the black man’s and she blinked to let him know she understood. When she placed Fain’s shirt on the pile in his arms, she managed to press his hand. Jackson edged closer and there wasn’t a chance for her to tell Israel to try to get the word to Fain. But somehow she knew that he would. She was so grateful that she wanted to cry.
Fain came in for the evening meal with Fish and Emil. He went straight to Rachel and took her in his arms.
“You all right?”
“Yes. How’s your head?” Her fingers adjusted the bandage.
“It’s all right.” He kissed her forehead, then went to the cradle to look down and stroke the baby’s head with his fingertips. He looked long and hard into the face of the man who sat beside the cradle before he took his seat at the table.
Jackson went outside to stand guard while Emil ate his meal. He gulped from the bowl and threw chicken bones into the fireplace. Fish ignored him. There was almost dead silence during the meal. Rachel took the opportunity to nurse the baby. She sat in the rocker with a cloth over her breast. By the time the men had finished eating, it was dark.
Voices in the dogtrot caused her to jerk her nipple from the mouth of her sleeping child and quickly fasten her dress. Her heart began its frightened flutter, and her eyes sought Fain’s. She continued to look at him. Everything seemed to go slightly out of focus. It seemed to her that she was standing a long way off, watching a scene unfold that had nothing to do with her. Things in the room were hazy, blurred. She shook her head and saw Fain coming toward her. . . .
“Are ya all right, love?”
“I’d like a drink of water.”
Fain glanced at Fish as if daring him to interfere, then brought the dipper and held it to her lips. She drank. Fish went to the door, and Rachel held up her lips to be kissed.
“Gun’s under cellar dirt,” she whispered.
“And I love you, too, darlin’.” Fain’s voice was loud enough to reach Fish.
He took the dipper and moved aside. Nothing could have prepared Rachel for the sight of the man who stood in the doorway beside Fish.
He looked to be more an animal than a man. His hair was long and shaggy. Beard covered one side of his face. The other side was sunken, twisted, scarred from the corner of his mouth up and over what had once been a cheekbone and into an empty eye socket. The near side of his face was completely devoid of hair. The healing of the skin had pulled his mouth to one side and down, so that spittle dripped continuously. His buckskin pants were stiff with grease and dirt. The cloth shirt that hung on his scrawny frame was filthy beyond recognition and hung in tatters. About him was the odor of sweat and of animal blood and fat.
Fish backed away from him and stood against the wall.
“Put the child down, Rachel, and dish up some food for my friend.”
Rachel stood immediately. She was afraid that Fain would lunge at the man and be killed. Keeping her eyes averted, she lay Faith in the cradle and filled a bowl with food. She set it on the table and moved away.
“Get back to work, Fain. You’ve worked at night before.”
Fain watched Linc creep to the table like a stalking animal. He hadn’t taken his one eye off Rachel’s slim figure.
“I’ll not move a step till I know my wife ’n’ child are safe.”
“They’ll not be harmed as long as you work. I’ll see to that.”
“Your tellin’ me ain’t enough. I want ’em behind barred doors,” Fain said firmly. “I can’t think of what I’m doin’ for worryin’ about them.”
“All right. Rachel can sleep in the other room and she can bar the door. But I’ll have a man outside to blast a hole in that door if you make a wrong move.”
“No! I’ll not have Linc Smith in this cabin with only a plank door ’tween him ’n’ my wife.”
“Linc will stay outside.”
“Ya ain’t a-tellin’ me where I’ll stay. Ya said the other’n’d be here. Emil says she ain’t.” Linc stood and faced Fish, broth dripping down his chin.
“She’ll be here just like I promised. Now finish eating and go down to the landing and make sure no one comes in on us.”
“I ain’t goin’ ta be stuck off down there,” Linc said, growling, and took a step toward Fish.
Fish stood his ground. “You’ll do as I say. You made a deal. You help me get what I want, and I help you get what you want.”
Rachel’s mind was spinning dizzily: Fish is bluffing Linc. He’s planning to leave the country with Berry, and Linc thinks she’s coming here. I wonder what would happen if I told him.
“I’ll be all right, Fain. If one of them touches me, I’ll scream so loud you’ll hear me.”
Fain turned on Fish angrily. “If’n that happens, ya might as well kill me, ’cause I’ll not put a hand to that gun.”
“Goddammit! I’m tired of you telling me what you’ll do and not do. You’ve got tonight and tomorrow to get it in shape so you can test it. You know what’s got to be done. You’ve told me a hundred times. You’ve even got the bands made to go around the stock and barrel.”
“I’ve got to make a part stout enough to hold the charge,” Fain’s voice boomed. His frustration and anger turned his face a dark red.
“I know what you’ve got to do. You brought back a dozen designs from that smithy in Louisville, along with enough forged barrels, locks, and hammers to outfit an expedition.” Fish cocked his head and grinned. “Do you think I don’t know you plan to furnish Pike firearms for his trip west? You thought to assemble them this winter while he’s up north.”
“So you’re working for Manuel Lisa,” Fain said, sneering. “I thought him too smart to send a boy to do a man’s job.”
“Be as insulting as you want, Fain. It’ll all be the same in the end.” Jackson came into the room then and Fish spoke to him. “Let the woman and the kid go in there.” He jerked his head toward the sleeping room.
Fain picked up the cradle and Rachel followed him with a candle. He placed the cradle beside the bed, and as he bent to kiss the infant’s forehead he slipped a small dirk under the blanket. His eyes sought Rachel’s to be sure she had seen the movement. She smiled, set the candle on the table, and went into his arms.
“The past month has been the most wonderful of my life,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you, lass. Don’t ya be givin’ up,” he murmured in her ear. “Bar the door. I’ll see ya in the mornin’.” He left her and pushed past Fish, who stood in the doorway.
Rachel shut the flimsy plank door that had been built only for privacy and hooked the leather strap over the peg. One push with a heavy boot was all it would take to gain entrance. She looked around for something to prop against the door and remembered the planks Fain had bought from a keelboat captain to use as flooring. As quietly as she could, she pulled the heavy slabs of wood from beneath the bed and wedged them against the door. At least it would require more than one blow to break it down, and she wouldn’t be taken by surprise.
She blew out the candle and felt her way along the wall to the tin chamber pot. It would be such a blessed relief to empty her bladder! A series of scenes passed before her mind’s eye as she sat on the cool rim: Berry flinging the pot at Linc Smith, and the whip raised in Asa’s hand and the knife that came out of the darkness to pin his arm to the wagon bed. She thought of the riverman trying to claw his way into the wagon and the shot she had fired that slammed her against the trunk. Then—Fain picking her up off the stone floor where the crazy old crone had dragged her. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She and Berry had been through so much. Now this. Berry would never know what had happened to her and Fain and Faith. Fain would never know the joy of birthing his own child.
Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] Page 26