Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01]

by Wild Sweet Wilderness

  “I shoulda made sure you died! I shoulda followed you and cut your rotten heart out!” Her voice started out weak but quickly gained strength. “You’re no more human than a belly-crawlin’ snake. You knifed my pa, took his money, then you and that bastard you hung out with thought you’d get me and Rachel,” she yelled at the top of her voice. Faith began to cry. “You’re all that’s left of the scum that come for us, and damn you, I’ll see you dead!”

  A strained growl came from Linc’s throat. “Ya goddamn bitch! Ya ruint me!” he shouted.

  “You filthy, disgustin’, stinkin’ animal!” Her fury burst forth in a strangled shout, her enraged voice overriding his. Suddenly she realized she was close to losing control. She ceased her strident outburst and stood in the wavering light of the guttering fire, loathing washing over her like a sizzling gush from a hot spring. She forgot Rachel, forgot the black-bearded man watching. She only vaguely heard the baby’s cries.

  Linc’s fuddled brain saw in the girl confronting him the essence of all that had gone wrong in his life. He wanted to choke the life from her with his bare hands! He opened his mouth as if being strangled, clenched his fists, and reached for his knife, which wasn’t there. He started around the table for her. The sound of a shot stopped him. He glanced at Jackson, who sat up in the chair.

  “They’s testin’ the gun.” The guttural sounds came from Linc’s slanted mouth, and spittle fell onto his shirt, still wet with Simon’s blood.

  Jackson leaned back in the chair. Rachel walked back and forth in front of the bedroom door with Faith in her arms. Berry didn’t take her eyes off Linc. The sound of the shot had distracted him, but now his eye shifted between her, Rachel, and Jackson.

  Boom! The sound of the explosion reverberated in the room like a clap of thunder. Linc wheeled, and Jackson jumped to his feet. The sharp crack of a rifle, and then a shout, reached them.

  Berry’s mind was locked in on one thing—killing Linc. She leaped toward him, the dirk raised to strike. He turned and the blade struck his shoulder blade. The surprise attack caught him off balance and he fell to his knees. Berry jumped onto his back and jabbed viciously with the short blade. Her mind had gone blank. She was in a frenzy to kill him. He roared with anger and pain. Suddenly she was plucked from Linc’s sweating body and slammed against the wall. Her head cracked against a hard object and the room whirled, then straightened.

  Linc crawled out the door, bleeding from the cuts, roaring curses at the top of his voice.

  Jackson scowled down at the small, plucky girl he’d jerked off Linc. Abruptly, as if sensing danger, he wheeled around. Rachel stood in the sleeping-room doorway holding the rifle. She fired. The sound of the shot was deafening. The bullet struck him in the right shoulder and spun him around. He grabbed the door frame to keep from falling. Rachel lowered the rifle and waited for him to kill her. She had missed her one chance. His face showed surprise, the first readable emotion she had seen there.

  “What’d you do that for? I’d-a took ya with me.” There was a note of disappointment in his voice. He backed from the door.

  Rachel had been sure that he was going to kill her. She stood, suspended in stunned silence, for a long moment. Then terror moved her to action. She rushed to the door, slammed it, and dropped the bar. She was seized with panic and quickly dropped the solid wood shutter down over the window, her body working independently of her mind. The room was almost dark without the light from the window and the door.

  “Berry! Get up!”

  Berry got to her feet and held on to Rachel until the floor stopped moving. “I’m all right. Did you kill him?”

  “No, but I hurt him . . . bad. He could’ve shot me, but he didn’t.”

  “Linc?”

  “You hurt him. He was bleedin’, but I don’t think it was bad. He was crawling for the door when I got the gun.” Faith was bawling lustily. Rachel went to her, returned, and opened her dress. She put the child to her breast and instantly the loud cries ceased. Rachel wiped the dampness from the baby’s head. “Poor little thing,” she crooned. “Poor, helpless, little babe.”

  Berry unhooked the shutter covering the window and lifted it so that she could look out. The sky was darkening. Already a few twinkling stars dotted the sky. There was no one within the range of her vision. She could faintly see the outline of Simon’s body lying in the dirt beneath the tree. The birds came to roost in the branches over his head. She heard their tittering and saw one after another silhouetted against the sky as they gathered for the night.

  “I’m going to Simon.” Berry closed the shutter and locked it. “I’m going out to get him, Rachel. If I’m going to die, I’ll die out there with him.”

  “He’s unconscious. You can’t lift him. Please . . . wait . . .” Rachel began to cry. Sobs shook her shoulders. “Fain is dead! I know he is. . . .”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “He told me many times he didn’t have a metal strong enough to hold the explosion. He had some that he thought would hold one time, but not twice. Fish made him fire it, and it killed him!” She bent over and pounded her forehead against the wall. “I can’t bear . . . not knowing!” she wailed.

  “Stop it! Fain wouldn’t want you to act like this. If the gun had blown up, Fish would be back here by now. Something else has happened, and I’m going to get Simon before they come back.”

  “You can’t! They’ll kill you, or . . . take you off!” Rachel grabbed Berry’s arm and clung to her. “But I understand. Let me put Faith down and I’ll go with you.”

  “No. It’s best if one of us stays here. If both of us should die out there, what would become of Faith?” Berry kissed the woman who had been both mother and friend to her. “Finish feeding that youngun so you can open the door when you see me coming with Simon.” She dropped a kiss on the baby’s head.

  Berry tied a cloth around her waist and tucked the dirk inside. “Is there powder and shot in the other room?” she asked hopefully, looking longingly at the rifle Rachel had dropped when she went to bar the door.

  “Fish took everything except Fain’s stock of guns, and they don’t have the firing pins.”

  Berry swore. “That bastard! Sweet Jesus, it’s hot in here. Keep a fire under that water. You can throw it on them if they try to bust down the door.” Berry opened the door a crack. There was no sound, no movement.

  “Wait a minute,” Rachel whispered. She went to the window, raised it a crack, looked out, then looked back at Berry and nodded.

  Berry slipped out the door and closed it behind her. She leaned against it while her eyes adjusted to the darkness before she looked around. After a minute she heard the bar slide into place and knew Rachel was at the window. She edged along the wall until she reached the end of the dogtrot. Cautiously she peered around the corner. She saw nothing. Still she waited, her heart pounding, her eyes on the still figure lying on the ground. After what seemed an eternity of waiting she sped across the intervening space. She reached Simon and fell to her knees.

  “Simon . . . darlin’!” She touched his face, his neck. Her hands came away sticky. She let out a shuddering cry. “Oh, my God! Your back is cut to ribbons.” She forced herself to think calmly. “Simon, can you hear me?” she whispered urgently.

  His reply was a faint murmur.

  Berry put her hands beneath his arms to lift him. She succeeded in raising him an inch or two. He mumbled and grunted with pain. Determined to get him to his feet, she straddled his body in an effort to lift him to a sitting position. She pulled with all her strength . . . and realized, with growing panic, that she was incapable of lifting him.

  “Help me, darlin’, please . . . help me.” Then: “Damn you, Simon! Help me. I can’t lift you.” Sobbing, she let him sink back down. “Goddammit! I’m going to get you to the house if I have to drag you!” She positioned herself between his feet, grabbed one in each hand, and pulled. She dug her bare feet into the ground and strained. She pulled him a few inches and paused.
Pulled again and paused. She clenched her teeth and strained. Simon’s body twitched and he groaned.

  During one of her brief pauses she glanced over her shoulder toward the house. Such a long way to go. She sobbed her frustration and dug into the great wealth of swear words she’d learned from her father.

  She heard Rachel’s muted cry from the window at the same instant as she saw the lumbering figure bearing down on her. She grabbed the dirk, turned, and straddled Simon’s body. Linc reached for her and she slashed his arm. A hoarse sound came from his throat and he sprang back. Berry crouched, thinking to push the blade upward. This is it, she thought. Simon and I will die, but before I do, I’ll rip into Linc’s guts! She jabbed the blade into his thigh when he grabbed her hair. He let out a bellow of rage and flung her to the ground. Berry saw his foot lift to stomp her, then a sound like no other she’d ever heard split the silence.

  “Zaah . . . aawa . . . haaa!” The primitive war cry of Israel’s ancestors tore from his throat as his gleaming black body shot from the shadows. With his huge hands he grabbed Linc and lifted him high over his head. He whirled him around faster and faster to gain momentum. A howl of pure terror erupted from Linc seconds before he was slammed against the trunk of the tree with maddening, brute force. There was a sickening sound as his body struck. He lay broken, twisted and lifeless.

  Berry jumped to her feet. “Help me!” she cried.

  Israel bent over Simon. His shirtless black body gleamed with sweat. He lifted him gently and pulled him up and over his shoulder. They ran to the house. The door opened. They never broke stride until they were inside the cabin, which seemed unusually bright from the firelight and the single candle.

  Rachel slammed the door shut and dropped the bar. “Over here,” she directed, and Israel eased Simon off his shoulder and onto the bunk.

  “Oh, my God!” Berry whispered in a stricken voice. She could see the blood glistening wetly on Simon’s back, and his pants were wet with it. His face was beaten beyond recognition; blood came from his nose and mouth. She felt her stomach heave, and she shut her eyes, fighting down a surge of nausea. Behind her she heard Rachel suck in her breath at the sight of the mutilation.

  “I’m glad Israel killed the brute!” Rachel turned to the black man. He seemed to have taken on a new dignity. His head was high and his eyes as he looked back at her were alert and knowing.

  “Thank you, Israel.” Berry went to him and grasped his hand. “You’re a good man. You saw what had to be done and did it. We’ve been through a lot together since we left Ohio. Somehow we’ll get through this, too. I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

  “Yass’m, missy.”

  “Did you see Fain, Israel?” Rachel choked on the words.

  “Yass’m. The gun kill Mistah Fish. Mistah Fain is a-hidin’ in the woods.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Rachel’s face crumbled and tears poured down her cheeks.

  “Ah was a-lookin’ fo’ him when I saw missy.”

  “The gun exploded and killed Fish! I’m glad!” Berry said stoutly. “Maybe the other two will leave.”

  “They’s lookin’ fo’ Mistah Fain.”

  “He’ll try to get to the cabin,” Rachel said. “I know he will. What can he do against two armed men?”

  “He’ll not have to worry so much about us now. He’ll see that Simon is gone and know Israel is the only one who could have carried him away.” Berry dipped water into a pan and set it on the floor beside Simon. He lay on his stomach, his face turned toward her. She sponged his face with a wet cloth and kissed his cheek. “Oh, your poor back! I don’t know if I can do it, darlin’. I don’t know what to do!”

  “Let me do it, Berry. Israel, help me get his breeches off.” Rachel dipped a towel into the warm water, then placed it, still dripping, on Simon’s back. “Get clean sheet and some cloth for bandages, Berry.”

  Berry fought down the hopelessness that threatened to overcome her when she saw the dirt embedded in the bloody welter of Simon’s back. She washed the blood from his hips and covered them with the sheet. Don’t think, she scolded herself sternly. Do what you have to do.

  Rachel continued to lay dripping towels on Simon’s shredded flesh. Each time she removed one it was coated with dirt. Israel took away the bloody water and returned with clean. After each trip he lifted the shutter and looked out the window.

  Berry knelt at Simon’s head and smoothed his dark hair back from his still face. It seemed so strange to see him so still. She had never seen him sleeping. He looked young and helpless, and a great out-pouring of protectiveness flooded her heart. She caressed his head with her fingertips, kissed his face, and murmured that she loved him. When the tips of her fingers slid to the nape of his neck and up, she felt a large sticky lump and let out a cry of alarm.

  “I knew it was there,” Rachel said softly. “There had to be a reason for him to be unconscious all this time. I want to do as much as I can to his back before he comes to, because the pain will be terrible.”

  “Will he . . . die?”

  “All we can do is pray that infection doesn’t set in. There . . . I think I’ve got it clean. We’ll cover it with bear oil and a clean cloth. I’m afraid to move him so I can see what’s on the other side. I’m quite sure he has some broken ribs.” Rachel gathered up the basin and the towels and moved away.

  Berry stayed on her knees beside the bunk. She noticed how slowly Simon breathed. Occasionally his brow wrinkled with a frown. He was encased in pain. It penetrated into the fragments of his consciousness. She suffered with him, crying silently.

  Despite her overpowering concern for Simon, Berry was acutely aware of the danger that lurked outside. She listened to the low murmur of Rachel’s and Israel’s voices, knowing that they kept watch at the window for a sign of Fain.

  “I shot one of them with the rifle you passed to me, Israel. I missed my shot and got him in the shoulder. I wish I’d killed him—then there would have been only one left out there.”

  “Yass’m. Ah went ta the river way down yonder ’n’ saw Lardy dead. The buzzards done picked out his eyes. Ah took ’im to where the ferry come ’n’ left ’im there on the boards.”

  “You found Lardy and you came back to help us. Why didn’t you go on and save yourself?”

  “I’s yours ’n’ missy’s slave, Miz Rachel. I a big, dumb nigga, but I stay with my missy.”

  “You’re far from dumb, Israel. Don’t ever think that. You were smart enough to fool Fish into thinking you’re dumb.” There was a long silence, then Rachel sighed tiredly. “I want Fain to come and I don’t want him to. I want him with us, but I’m afraid that’s what they expect him to do and will be waiting for him.”

  Hours passed. It was suffocatingly hot in the cabin. The baby fussed. Rachel nursed her and walked the floor. Israel prowled, stopping every so often to put his ear to the outside wall and listen. Berry sat beside Simon, bathed his face, and watched Israel. He moved soundlessly on his huge bare feet; it seemed impossible that he, so big and gentle, had screamed that primitive war cry and charged Linc Smith with such fury.

  Simon groaned, his eyelashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes. Berry tilted her head and leaned toward him so that her face was level with his.

  “Simon? Darlin’, are you awake?”

  “Berry . . . What’s wrong? Where am I?” he whispered through his puffed lips.

  “You’re in the cabin, love. Israel carried you. He killed Linc, the brute that did this to you. Fish is dead too.” She kissed his bruised cheek. “You must lie still. Don’t try to roll over on your back.”

  Simon closed his eyes. “I couldn’t move if I wanted to,” he said weakly. “Where’s Fain?”

  “He’ll be along soon. Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “I didn’t think I’d make it. . . . I love you.” His hand tightened on hers.

  “And I love you.”

  “I’m glad it’s over. I wouldn’t be no use to you. I coul
dn’t . . . help. . . .” She felt his hand relax and knew he was asleep.

  Berry sat beside him, watching his face, listening to his breathing. Not even sleep could wholly free him from the pain. Every so often there was a catch in his breath, followed by a faint moan. It was a steady, hurtful sound. She found herself waiting tensely for the slow breath to catch and hold. His lips moved, but she couldn’t catch what he was saying. She leaned down. He ran his tongue over dry lips and mumbled.

  “I can’t hear you,” she whispered.

  “I . . . like to hear her laugh. It sounds . . . like bells and makes me feel good.”

  “Oh, Simon!” Her tears fell on his face.

  Rachel came to lay her hand on his forehead. “Sleep is what he needs now,” she said quietly.

  Berry walked with her to the other side of the room. “He thinks it’s over. I told him that Fain would be coming soon. I couldn’t tell him, Rachel. He’s so helpless.”

  “You did right to ease his mind. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “Missy! They out there.” Israel moved from the window so that the women could look out.

  The tall, gaunt figure of Jackson, his rifle tucked under his right arm, and the heavier figure of Emil stood beside Linc’s body. They looked toward the house, then Jackson gestured with his rifle and vanished in the clark shadows. Emil lolled against the tree, his booted foot callously propped on Linc’s body.

  “Mistah Fain!” Israel’s urgent whisper and his hand on Rachel’s back startled her and she let out a small cry. Her body began to shake and she clutched his arm. He urged her toward the door. On the way he pinched out the flame of the candle, plunging the room into darkness.

  Rachel pressed her ear to the door. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. Israel gently pushed her aside and lifted the bar. He pulled up on the handle, the door opened silently, and Fain slipped into the room. Just as silently the door closed behind him.