Rachel sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her fingers to her eyes as if to hold back the weight of tears that strived for release against a barrier of despair. It seemed to her as if hours passed. The light from the other room no longer came through the cracks in the door. Rachel thought of the table full of soiled dishes and the unclean workbench. Just this morning she had scrubbed it with the suds left from the wash. This morning seemed a million years away. She wished fervently for Fain. This might be the last night of their lives, and they couldn’t even spend it together. She cried silently, inwardly, the dry tears of hopelessness.
Faith woke and she put her to her breast. She took comfort in the small body and held her lovingly.
At first she thought the small scratching sounds she heard came from the ropes on the bed when she shifted her weight. She listened. She heard the faintest sound. It was coming from the other side of the wall—the side where Fain and Israel were digging the cellar. She got down on her knees and crawled to the wall. She put her ear to it. Someone was digging! It had to be Israel! Was he trying to dig under the wall and pass her the rifle?
Rachel felt her way to the cradle, fumbled for the dirk Fain had slipped beneath the cover, and laid Faith on her back. The baby began to cry.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” she whispered. “I know you hate lying on your back.” She went back to the wall, listened for a moment, then began to dig frantically with the dirk. The baby’s wails covered the scraping sounds. The child’s cries became more insistent and Rachel began to croon as if she were rocking and cuddling her. “It’s all right, darlin’. Mama’s got you. Go to sleep.”
Faith was angry. Not only was she lying on her back, she hadn’t finished her meal. She protested in the only way she knew how.
“Bye-o, my baby. Bye-o, my baby. Mama’s got to tend the fire, while Papa’s gone a-huntin’.” Rachel sang softly as she dug and pulled the dirt away with her hands.
To let Israel know she was digging from the inside, she tapped lightly on the wall with the handle of the dirk. He answered with a like signal. Rachel’s heart pounded furiously. Panic was almost choking her. Israel was taking such a chance! Oh, why hadn’t they taken the time to teach him to fire the gun? Fish and his men would kill him without a second thought if they caught him. Rachel dug faster and continued to croon to Faith in a breathless voice, thanking God that her daughter had powerful lungs.
Finally they broke through the wall that separated them and she touched Israel’s hand. A few minutes later she felt the butt of the rifle. She was trying to pull it through the opening when a pounding on the door caused her heart to drop to her toes.
“Hush up that youngun!”
“I’m tryin’ to,” she called. “She’s got colic.”
“Well, nuss ’er, less’n ya wants to nuss me.” There was a low, vulgar chuckle.
Rachel pulled the rifle free and shoved it under the bed. She snatched her daughter up in her arms and opened her dress. The hungry, seeking little mouth found the nipple and with a gurgle of contentment sucked the milk into her mouth. The silence beat in Rachel’s ears like a drum. Then heavy footsteps moved away from the door and tears of relief rolled down Rachel’s face.
Faith fell into an exhausted sleep. Rachel kissed her tiny face and laid her on her stomach. “You done good, little love. I hope I get the chance to tell your papa how you helped.”
Moving slowly and deliberately, Rachel drew the rifle from under the bed. She felt in the barrel to see if it was free of dirt, then carefully lifted the end of the grass pad that covered the ropes and hid it within easy reach. She raked the loose dirt back into the hole. Israel had blocked it from the other side. It filled quickly. Feeling her way carefully, she took a hide from the pile she was saving to stitch into a mattress for the feather bed and placed it over the fresh dirt. Then she set the chamber pot on top of it.
Satisfied that she had done all she could do, she found a cloth under the pillow in the cradle and tied the dirk to her thigh.
Somehow, I’ll kill Fish, she promised herself. She lay down on the side of the bed Fain slept on and buried her face in his pillow.
Chapter Seventeen
The trail along the riverbank was white with blossoming wild plums and dogwood trees. Frogs peeped in the marshy places, crows cawed. A flock of birds suddenly erupted into screaming flight. Berry laughed with delight, tilted her head against Simon’s shoulder, and watched the flock assemble, break apart, and reassemble overhead. Simon pulled Star to a halt. They shaded their eyes with their hands to peer up into the bright morning sunlight. The metallic green plumage and red-feathered heads of the flock gleamed like fire as they soared, dipped, and spiraled upward before disappearing over the tops of the towering trees.
“They’re so pretty!” Berry said quietly, awestruck by the spectacular scene.
“They’re parakeets,” Simon explained. “In the winter they roost in great flocks. I’ve seen so many in one tree it looked as if the tree was lit by a thousand candles.”
Star danced in place, eager to be moving. Simon eased up on the reins. The horse moved slowly, not due to the added weight of the girl on his back, but because it was hot and for once his master was not in a hurry.
Sitting astride in front of Simon, his arms around her, Berry wiggled her firm buttocks against his groin, threw her arms wide, and laughed, a bubbling free laugh.
“I’m so happy, Simon, my love. We’ll be together every day, every night, for the rest of our lives. I can hardly wait to tell Rachel. How long before we get there?”
“Stop your wiggling or we’ll not get there at all,” he cautioned teasingly. “It’s not more than a couple of miles.”
“I like wearing your pants.” Happy laughter gurgled up. She held out her legs, her bare feet protruding from the rolled-up buckskin breeches. “I might make myself a pair.”
“Ah . . . no! I like feeling up under your skirt.” His hand slid down her thigh. “Nope . . . I’ll not have my wife in pants.”
Berry, hearing his chuckle, turned and, looking deeply into his warm dark eyes, held her lips up for a kiss. So this was how it was going to be from now on. Just the two of them, able to run, laugh, play, and make love when and where they wanted. Little flickers of anticipation shivered through her. Her urgent mouth found his, yet he kept his lips firmly closed from the onslaught of her determined little tongue.
“Behave yourself, you little witch,” he said with a growl. “If we stop we won’t get to Fain’s till suppertime.”
“You know you want to stop and roll in the grass with me,” she said in an exaggerated, seductive whisper. Her fingers worked their way up and down his hard thigh. “You’ve already introduced me to the pleasures of the flesh, made me a fallen woman, ruined me.” Her laughing green eyes probed his smiling dark ones.
“You’re a tempting little baggage!” His arms tightened and she nestled against his chest. “Now sit still, or . . . I’ll swat that little butt that keeps wigglin’ against me.” His voice in her ear was warm, loving, teasing.
“All right. But don’t blame me when Rachel sees that great lump in your pants.” She turned and pressed her back to his chest. He felt the tremors of giggles she was trying to suppress.
Simon tenderly swept the ebony hair back from her neck and placed his lips there. He moved his hand from her rib cage to her breast and felt her heart beating rapidly. An exquisite pang of aching tenderness shot through him when he thought of all this small woman had endured. She turned to look at him. Her green eyes gleamed with mischief, then closed when he pressed her lips with his in a hard kiss. Her face found refuge beneath his chin. The brim of his hat shaded her cheeks from the noon sun. He nourished her in his arms, and they were silent in their contentment.
It was early afternoon when Berry and Simon arrived at Fain’s homestead. Simon had put his heels to the stallion a quarter of a mile back and they galloped into the clearing between the barn and the house. Berry’s laughter had preceded
them. Conscious only of each other, they were unaware of the hostile eyes that watched them. Berry glanced around quickly, disappointed that Rachel wasn’t there to meet her.
“Rachel! Rachel!” she shouted as Simon pulled Star to a halt. She threw her leg up and over the horse’s broad neck, grasped Simon’s hand, and dropped to her feet. She ran toward the house, her black hair flying. “C’mon, slow poke,” she called over her shoulder.
A man in a feathered, three-cornered hat stepped from the dogtrot and her running feet stopped abruptly. His sudden appearance startled her. The fact that he was so richly dressed was almost as startling. Her green eyes blinked, rounded, then sparkled.
“Fish? Oh, Fish, you look so grand, I didn’t know you.”
“Hello, Berry. I see Simon brought you back.”
“Yes, he found me. I’m anxious to see Rachel.” She moved to go around him. He moved with her and blocked the entrance. She looked at him questioningly, tilted her head, and grinned. “I didn’t find my pa’s land. It was a wild goose chase, Fish. I should never have gone. Oh, here’s Rachel. . . .”
Rachel came through the doorway, her face white and haggard. Berry rushed to her and threw her arms around her.
“Berry . . . oh, Berry . . .” Rachel sobbed.
“I’m sorry. Truly I am. I swear to goodness, Rachel. I don’t know what made me do such a dumb thing.”
“It’s not only that. . . .” Rachel grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face the yard. “Something terrible is happening here. Look . . .”
Simon stood beside his horse, a man on each side of him. One of them held the barrel of a long gun against his side. Berry blinked, stared, then took a step forward. Rachel grabbed her arm and held her back.
“What . . . ? Is that . . .” she stammered, her eyes on the man in the tattered shirt. Beard covered one side of his face, the other was horribly mutilated.
“Linc Smith,” Rachel whispered hoarsely.
“Linc Smith?” Berry jerked away from Rachel and spun around frantically, looking for a weapon. She came up against Fish. She grasped his arms, her green eyes looking into his imploringly. “Oh, Fish! He’s a terrible man, a beast! Do something!”
Fish stood impassive, his arms folded across his chest.
“He’ll not help, Berry. He’s with them. He brought them here,” Rachel said scathingly. She couldn’t resist letting him see her deep-seated contempt.
Berry stood for a dozen heartbeats as if she had turned to stone. Then, as if jerked by invisible strings, she whirled, her eyes wild, her hair flying. Rage blinded her. All she could see was Simon with the rope Linc Smith had looped around his neck. With a scream of rage, she charged from the dogtrot.
Fish caught her and flung her against the rough logs as she tried to dart around him. She screamed curses and clawed at his face. Her nails raked his smooth cheek. She felt the crack of his hand against her face, but still she fought, disoriented, half-crazed. Her knee came up between his legs to render him helpless, but he blocked it and they fell to the ground. Berry kicked, bit, and screamed like a wild thing. Her flying fists connected, but she felt no pain as her knuckles split on his sharp teeth. Blow followed blow as he struck her face in an effort to subdue her. Strengthened by her crazed fear for Simon, she fought until a final blow drew a curtain of darkness over her.
* * *
Berry awakened to a throbbing headache. Every beat of her heart felt like a hammer pounding on her head. She tried to press her temples with her fingers. Something was wrong. Her eyes flew open, and in spite of the blinding light she saw that her wrists were bound together. Her ankles also were tied.
“Simon . . .” she croaked through swollen lips. She tasted blood in her mouth. “Simon . . .” she cried in anguish as near hysteria closed in on her.
“Shhh . . .” Rachel knelt beside her. The wet cloth on Berry’s face soothed her flesh, but not her troubled thoughts.
“Where’s Simon?” Berry whispered. “What’s goin’ on?” Her eyes were frantic in their search of the room. She managed to get an elbow under her and raised her head and shoulders. Rachel, with a dipper of water, blocked her view.
“Drink this. Please, Berry . . . don’t make a fuss. Simon’s tied up outside.”
Berry drank the water, then swung her bound feet over the edge of the bunk and sat up. Now she saw a man with a bushy black beard sitting beside the cradle, his chair tipped back against the wall.
“God Almighty!” she murmured and shook her head as if to rid it of the puzzling thoughts that filled it.
“Talk so I c’n hear ya,” Jackson demanded.
Rachel talked. She left out nothing. “Fish killed Eben the morning you left. He bragged that he had gotten you out of the way and how you would be returned to him by the Indians who took you.” Rachel spoke dispassionately. She told of the cold-blooded killing of Olson and said that she suspected they had killed Lardy too. “Fish wants the breech-loader Fain is working on. He wants to sell it for a large amount of money. He’s given him today and tonight to finish it.”
“What’s he watchin’ us for? What does he think we can do?” Berry swung resentful, hate-filled eyes to the man in the chair.
“If Fain don’t do what Fish says, he’ll . . . kill us. . . .” Rachel broke down and sobs long held in check broke from her throat. She hid her face in her hands until she could choke off her cries.
“I just never dreamed that Fish was like this,” Berry said, still looking across the room at the bearded woodsman who leaned so carelessly against the wall.
“Fish’s rotten clear through. He’d have to be to kill a man who had saved his life,” Rachel said venomously. “All the time he was here, he was play-acting. He bragged about it. He’d heard about the gun and came here with the excuse that he wanted to be a gunsmith. Fain is so good, so trusting. He took him at his word.”
“But how’d he get tied up with Linc Smith?”
“He’s using him, just as he’s using those other two stupid fools that came with him. They’re like big, dumb ox. They’ve not got brains enough to know they’ll get nothin’ from the gun.” Rachel raised her voice and looked pointedly at Jackson. “Does she have to stay tied up? Are you afraid she’ll overpower you and take your gun?” she taunted.
“Ya c’n take ’em off her feet. Her hands stay.”
Rachel knelt and worked at the strip of rawhide. Berry looked over her head to the man in the chair. His eyes were as dark and intent as the ugly Indian’s had been and she felt chilled to the bone. Rachel stood, pulled Berry to her feet, and turned to the man whose presence was like a deadly gloom hanging over them.
“You may be part human after all, Mr. Jackson,” she said with a proud lift to her chin.
Jackson said nothing, but pinpoints of light glittered in his dark eyes and his head moved in the briefest of nods.
“They’ll kill Simon.” The dreaded words burst from Berry. She felt as if she were about to tumble into the pit of darkness again. “Can’t we do something?”
Rachel put her arm around her and led her to the window. Silhouetted against the red wash of the evening sky, Simon hung, shirtless, his bound hands pulled up and tied to a branch. His head hung between his arms, and his legs sagged. He was making an effort to stiffen his legs to take the pressure off his arms. Berry couldn’t see his face, but she could see the red, bleeding cuts on his back made by a whip.
“God in heaven!” Berry whispered in a stricken voice. “They’ll kill him!”
“He’s not dead yet,” Rachel hissed. “Buck up, for God’s sake. We can’t do a thing if we fall to pieces.”
“What can we do?” Berry’s lips barely moved. Huge tears blurred the figure of her lover.
Rachel put her arms around her, pressed her cheek to hers, and whispered, “A rifle under my mattress. We’ve got to bide our time.” She moved back and with her fingertips wiped the tears from Berry’s cheeks. “These men had all merciful feeling crushed out of them a long time ag
o. They have few human qualities. They’ve lived as vultures and scavengers so long they don’t know how to live like decent folks. I doubt that Mr. Jackson ever lived in a house. He spits on the floor!”
Berry vaguely heard Rachel’s words through the fog of her emotional turbulence. She glanced at the man beside the cradle. His eyes were on Rachel, and it seemed to Berry that they had not moved from Rachel’s face since she had first looked at him.
“Well . . . I see you’ve recovered from your swoon.”
Fish came through the door from the dogtrot. He removed his hat and carefully smoothed his hair with his palms. His boots struck dull echoes on the plank flooring, and Berry turned to look at him as if seeing him for the first time. The long, red scratches down his cheek and his puffed lips gave her a breath of pleasure that was instantly smothered as fury tore through her, shutting off her breath. She started to speak, choked, and gulped down spittle and air.
“You . . . pukey little weasel! You lyin’, wishywashy bastard!” Berry shouted, blindly searching for some word that would convey her complete disgust. “You pissant! You addle-brained fool! You got no feelings at all!” She fought her rage in a shaking voice. “You’re worse than a savage, worse than Linc Smith.”
“Watch your mouth, Berry,” Fish said curtly. “If I’m more of a savage than Linc, perhaps you’d like to join him. I tried to keep you out of this. I’m sure Rachel has lost no time telling you about that. I’ll not take you with me now. The picture has changed. Meanwhile, I’ll use you and Simon as a lever to keep Fain working. I’ve already told him that Simon gets five lashes with the black snake for every hour he delays. We’ll soon find out how much of a man your lover is. He’ll be begging for death before long.”
Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] Page 27