She got a horse’s curry brush from her closet and began to brush Boldo. It relaxed him when she groomed him. When the next roar of thunder sounded he didn’t even flinch. “Foolish bear, I wish you’d be this good when I give you a bath,” she grumbled. “You act like I’m sticking you with Niçu’s knives.” The thought reminded her of Niçu’s and Gage’s show, and in the perplexing confusion of her mind she regretted that she wouldn’t see Gage that evening.
“Oh! I call you foolish!” she rasped to Boldo. “I’m as stupid as a gajo!” She went on talking nonsense to the bear, and he finished his grapes and started nodding. Finally she got him to lie down and go to sleep.
The Queen of Bohemia was steaming placidly along; no amount of wind or rain could slow her down. But suddenly the great brass bell sounded half-a-dozen urgent deep gongs, and the steam whistles screamed. The Queen immediately started slowing, then with a wrench it slewed sideways. The entire boat gave a mighty jerk and then started shuddering. Nadyha was knocked sideways to the floor. Everything fell off of the sideboard. The French doors, which she hadn’t locked, swung open and banged against the walls.
Quickly Nadyha jumped to her feet to close the doors, then anxiously went to hover over Boldo. He had drowsily opened one eye when the crash had happened, and as Nadyha bent over him he merely looked back up at her and his eye slowly closed again. He snored a little. Anca, lying on her cushion by Nadyha’s bed, looked annoyed and began cleaning her face.
Nadyha thought, Tinar and Saz! And Cayenne! What if they fell, or got slammed into the stall? I’ve got to go see about them . . . especially Cayenne, he’s so much more high-strung than Tinar and Saz . . .
She ran out of her stateroom.
WHAT HAPPENED WAS THIS: Stephen Carruthers was steaming along just past the quaint old town of Ste. Genevieve, along a straight stretch of river that was like a ruler for about twelve miles. He knew every current, every snag, every low bottom, even every tree through here, just as he knew most all of the Mississippi River from New Orleans to St. Louis. That was why, though it was so far in front of him, when lightning struck a blinding flash on the right-hand bank, he figured that it had hit a giant pine tree that he used as a mile marker, for the tree was about eight feet in diameter and soared up fifty feet high. Instantly he stood on the wheel to turn her to port, rang the bell—the “Emergency!” signal when a steamer was underway—and blew the steam whistle. Like the queen she was, the boat answered and yanked hard left. Coming side-on to the teeming storm current, she rocked side-to-side, hard.
Everyone immediately picked themselves up and ran outside, heedless of the pelting rain, to see what had happened. Frank Yargee, E. B. Aikin, and Leroy Hinkle had been in the Elbe River Saloon since they’d left the dining room after their confrontation with Niçu. They had all been drinking straight whiskey steadily, and were all three very drunk. Yargee had been bragging about how he was going to “fix” Niçu, and how he was going to make Nadyha see that he was the man for her, the stuck-up Gypsy wench.
When the ship crashed, all three of them, who were bellied up to the bar, fell down. It would have been comical to watch the three of them stumbling and staggering around, trying to get to their feet, if they hadn’t been cursing so foully. Then, like everyone else, they went out onto the promenade to see what had happened.
The saloon was on the starboard side of the boat, so they were dumbfounded to see that they were broadside-on to the raging river, with the Queen’s bow just nosed up against the left-hand shore.
And then Frank Yargee saw Nadyha running down the steps. Her blouse was falling off of one shoulder, her hair was unbound and wild, and the sight of her filled him with drunken rage and lust.
“C’mon, boys, I know where she’s going,” he told his two friends. Shoving, pushing, cursing, they made their way through the crowd to the steps down to the Boiler Deck. Yargee had been watching Nadyha, and he knew she would be going down to check on her horses. He also knew that with whatever accident had happened, none of the crew would be loitering around in the cargo hold.
The stalls were set up on the starboard side of the hold. They were of a good size, eight feet by ten feet, so the horses had plenty of room to move around. Lined up, first was Cayenne’s stall, then Saz’s, then Tinar’s. Next to his stall was another stall that they had built for Anca, for her feedings. It was smaller, six by eight, and aside from the fresh sweet hay they kept on the floor, Nadyha had made a second cushion, filled with catmint and Spanish moss, for her. After she ate Anca usually took a good wash and then napped for a couple of hours.
Now, as Yargee and his friends came into the hold, they saw Nadyha standing at Cayenne’s stall. She stood in front of the door, but hadn’t gone in, for the horse was frightened and was shaking his head and trembling, his skin running with shivers, his eyes white. But he was calming down as Nadyha petted his nose and spoke softly to him. The storm was so loud that she couldn’t hear the three men. When they came past Anca’s stall she saw them out of the corner of her eye. Immediately she flattened herself, back up against Cayenne’s door, and her hand went to her waist. But she wasn’t wearing her belt, so she didn’t have her knife. Her eyes shifted to the right, but Yargee saw it and took two running steps and grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said in her ear. “They’re going to be too busy in that there boiler room for you to go running around in there bothering ’em.”
Nadyha tried to yank her arm away, but it was as if it was stuck in an iron vise. Yargee yanked her closer and put one arm around her waist. Still muttering into her ear, he said, “Now, me and you are gonna have us a little talk, and we’re gonna come to an agreement. And you’re not gonna say one word to nobody about our little talk, or our agreement. ’Cause if you do, your old granny just might find herself limpin’ even worsen than she does now. You got that, you Gypsy whore?”
Nadyha opened her mouth wide and screamed as loudly as she could. But she might as well have been mute, for all the good it did. The rain was still hard and deafening, and the cargo hold was always noisy from the nearby boiler room and engine room anyway. But her scream did affect the three men. Aikin and Hinkle, who had been smirking at Yargee and Nadyha, suddenly looked uncertainly at each other.
Frank Yargee, in a fast whipping motion, took out his Bowie knife. He held it to Nadyha’s cheek, a twelve-inch long glittering blade with serrations lining the curve of the tip. He hissed, “You do that agin, I’m gonna cut your pretty face. Nah, I ain’t a-gonna kill you or really even hurt you bad, I ain’t that kind of man. But I will mark you up, Nadyha, and that would be a real shame for a fine-looking wench like you.”
Nadyha’s eyes were huge with horror, and her mouth trembled. But she remained perfectly still. “Thass much better. Now I know you got your pretty little cushion for your tiger down there in that stall. What say we go have us a seat and talk?”
He started walking Nadyha down the stalls. Nadyha’s horrified gaze slid to the horses. Tinar and Saz watched them alertly, but they didn’t seem to sense her anguish. Wildly Nadyha wondered why; she thought she was as in tune with her horses as she was with Anca. But then she realized that Anca was a predator, and she could sense a prey faraway, and she would know that right now, Nadyha was the prey. But the horses didn’t.
The two men half-stumbled along behind Yargee and Nadyha, and Aikin mumbled, “Frank? You sure . . . I mean, people like this girl . . .”
“Shaddup!” he snarled over his shoulder. “Open that stall door. Then close it, and you two idiots just stand there and mind your own business!” Hinkle opened the door and after Yargee and Nadyha went in, he closed it. He and Aikin stood in front of it, shuffling and looking down at their feet and casting alarmed glances all around.
Just for the fun of it, Yargee slammed Nadyha into the far wall and, still holding the knife just a hair away from her cheek, pressed himself against her. “See, I been watching you, Nadyha, and I know you’re a girl that likes to have fun. So we’re gonna ha
ve us some fun, ain’t we?”
Yargee had his back to the stall door, so he didn’t see Gage come running in. Gage grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and around his waist and, lifting him about six inches into the air, slammed him face-first into the wall. Yargee’s nose broke, and the rough wood dug splinters all into his face, and blood began pouring down. But he was a fighter, and he still held the knife. He tried to turn it and backward-stab Gage in the belly.
Gage let him drop to his feet, grabbed his right wrist, and yanked it up hard, back between his shoulder blades. With satisfaction Gage felt his shoulder dislocate, and then, even in the din, heard the crack of Yargee’s upper arm break. He let out a screaming yowl that, for a moment, gave both Nadyha and Gage a great deal of pleasure. Gage let go of him and he crumpled facedown to the floor, his left hand scrabbling in the hay, still shrieking from his blood-filled mouth.
Gage looked at Nadyha. She still stood, flattened against the wall, staring down at Yargee with horror-filled eyes. Slowly her gaze rose to Gage, and she began to tremble, her entire body started shaking as if she had suddenly become palsied. Her face was a sickly yellow color, as if she were going to be horribly sick.
Throwing Yargee’s knife out of the stall, he went to her and very gently took her in his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, shaking tremulously. Gage stroked her hair and whispered reassurances to her. They stood that way for a long time, unmindful of Yargee, who was now moaning and sobbing on the floor. Very slowly Nadyha stopped trembling.
Then, with a violence that shocked Gage, Nadyha pushed him away. Her face was now flushed a painful crimson, her eyes blazed. “You—you men! What’s the matter with all of you! All you want—all you care about—is to—is to—filthy brutes!” She ran out of the stall and fled to the steps.
Now Gage felt faintly ill himself. He glared down at Yargee, cringing and crying on the floor, and considered breaking his other arm and both of his legs. “Sure would make me feel better,” he muttered to himself. “So I guess maybe she was right. I guess that just makes me a filthy brute.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nadyha ran to Baba Simza’s stateroom and burst in. Simza was standing at the window, watching the rain and wondering what had happened and why the boat was turned sideways so that she only saw the river flowing fast and brown behind. When she turned and saw her granddaughter, she felt a shock of dread shake her to her very bones.
Nadyha’s hair was wild, her face was a pasty yellow hue, her eyes were stretched wide and filled with horror. Her blouse was torn, and there were angry red marks on her lower neck and shoulder. “Puridaia!” she cried with an anguished voice that Simza, in her worst nightmares, never thought of hearing from a loved one.
Quickly, ignoring the pain from her still-healing ankle, Simza ran to Nadyha and threw her arms around her, hugging her close. Nadyha began to shake and sob. Gently, murmuring wordless soothing sounds, Simza led her to the bed and they sat together. Nadyha clung to her and, in between sobs, managed to tell her what had happened. She spoke in Romany, and was barely coherent. There is no Romany word for rape; but to Simza she might as well have been screaming it in English over and over again. After a long time, Simza finally got Nadyha to lie down. She curled up in a fetal position, still weeping, but the storm of breathless gasping sobs were subsiding. Simza covered her with a light sheet and whispered, “I’m going to get Niçu and Mirella. Just one moment, bitti chavi, I’ll be right back.” Nadyha nodded tremulously.
Simza hurried next door and banged hard on their stateroom door. “Niçu! Av akai!” Immediately Niçu wrenched it open, his expression already alarmed. Mirella hovered behind him.
Briefly Simza told them what had happened. Mirella’s eyes filled with tears and Niçu looked deathly angry. Simza said, “You need to go down and talk to Gage, and you men can decide what to do. Mirella and I are going to take Nadyha to her room, she’ll never rest without Boldo and that cat.” She was, of course, speaking of Anca. “And Niçu, don’t let anyone come to Nadyha’s stateroom to see about her, not even maids. All she wants right now is us, her familia. So when you get the business settled with that narkri mokadi mahrime gaje,” she spat out, “you come back to see what we’re going to need.”
NIÇU RAN DOWN TO the Boiler Deck and found Gage, still standing over Frank Yargee, staring at him with narrowed flint-blue eyes. His jaw was tensing over and over again as he clenched his teeth.
Niçu regarded Frank Yargee, and instead of wanting to kill him he just felt a sickening disgust. He was still facedown, wallowing in hay that was smeared with the blood from his face and nose. His right arm was crooked at such an awkward angle that Niçu immediately knew that Gage had broken it. He was making pitiful mewling sounds alternating with bellowing groans.
“What are we going to do?” Niçu asked Gage.
“I dunno. Now I wish I hadn’t broken his arm so I could beat him to death in a fair fight,” Gage growled. “I was thinking about just leaving him here and nailing the door shut but I hate that he’s dirtying up Anca’s stall.”
“That’s the truth, the filthy vermin,” Niçu agreed venomously. He had an urge to kick Yargee then; after all, his left side wasn’t hurt. But he resisted the impulse and merely said, “I guess I’d better go find Dennis.”
“Yeah, he’s probably in the Moravian,” Gage said, then added dully, “That’s where we were when we wrecked, or whatever happened.” Gage was filled with bitter regret; he had been in the salon, with Monique Dobard hanging on his arm as usual these days, listening to Cara playing the piano and singing. When the ship had been yanked around, he had taken long moments to see that Miss Dobard and her parents were all right before he had hurried down to check on the horses. And this had been happening to Nadyha. Gage really felt murderous then; it was hard for him to restrain himself.
Niçu did find Denny in the Moravian Salon, along with his uncle. They were reassuring the passengers that the obstruction was being cleared, and there was no danger at all, and they would still reach St. Louis that night. Niçu walked up to them as they were standing talking to a group of first-class passengers and rudely interrupted Wainwright as he was speaking. “I need to talk to both of you. Now.”
They stepped out into the passage and Niçu told them what had happened. He was surprised as he observed these two hearty, back-slapping gajes; Zedekiah Wainwright looked as aghast and horrified as Niçu himself had been, and he reflected, I never thought a grinning fool like Dennis Wainwright could look so dangerous.
They all went back down to the cargo deck and, as Niçu had, Wainwright and Denny regarded Frank Yargee with utter disgust. “I wish I could just roll him over the side right now,” Zedekiah Wainwright grunted. “But I guess that would hardly do.” He sighed deeply. “We have a doctor on board, I’ll ask him if he’ll see to him. But first I’m going to ask him to attend Nadyha,” he told Niçu.
Niçu shook his head. “Baba Simza says she’s not hurt, not physically, anyway. And she doesn’t want anyone but us right now.” They all understood he meant the Gypsies; and it rent at Gage Kennon’s heart.
“Those other two imbeciles that run with him were here, standing guard,” Gage said coldly. “They ran like scared little mice when I came in, and I’m glad they did. If they would have just walked up to me and started spouting some of their drunk babblings, I might have . . . I might have been . . .” Too late, were his unspoken words.
Denny snorted. “Those two weasels? They were probably so scared gutless I’m surprised they had sense enough to run. It’s not going to do them any good anyway. We’re going to have all three of them arrested in St. Louis for assault, battery, and attempted rape. Until then, they can just rot in their stateroom. I’ll post an armed guard at their door.”
“That would be me,” Gage asserted flatly. “And I really hope they try to escape.”
DR. HYPOLITE DAUTERIVE WAS a tall man, with a proud, erect posture and a wealth of salt-and-pepper hair. At his knock at the d
oor, Gage opened it, gave the three men inside a deathly glare, and let the doctor out into the hallway of the third-class passengers’ deck.
Dauterive’s sharp gaze assessed Gage for a moment, and Gage met his eyes with a hard stare. “You know, Mr. Kennon,” Dauterive said evenly, “when Mr. Wainwright asked me to attend that man, he told me that he was going to jail when we reach St. Louis tonight. I insisted upon knowing the particulars because it was unclear to me why Mr. Yargee was going to jail, and not you. Although Mr. Wainwright was very reluctant to explain, he did tell me exactly what happened.” Now Dauterive stuck out his maNiçured hand. “May I shake your hand, sir.”
They shook hands firmly, and Dauterive continued in a clinical voice, “His shoulder was dislocated, but his arm is so badly broken that I couldn’t relocate the shoulder again. I’ve just splinted and bandaged up his right side. His nose is broken, both of his eyes are going to swell shut, and the worst injury of all is that he sustained a severe skull fracture. Pooling blood is putting pressure on his brain, and if he doesn’t have surgery to relieve it soon he may die.”
“Surgery,” Gage repeated. “I don’t guess you can do it?”
“There are no surgical instruments here, and I’ve never done that sort of surgery in my life. I wouldn’t attempt it even if we had the best operating theater on board. At any rate, Captain Humphries has said that we’ll likely reach St. Louis before midnight. That will be plenty of time for him to have surgery at St. Louis Charity Hospital,” he said with relish. “They let the students do surgery there.”
“Will he die before then?” Gage asked coolly.
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