The Devil's Daughter

by Laura Drewry

  “Where’s the stove?” she asked, pretending not to notice his reaction. But for added fun, she lifted her skirt high enough to scratch a nonexistent itch just above her knee.

  Maggie cowered behind Jed, her loud whisper carrying across the yard. “She wants to cook me.”

  Jed stuttered for a moment, but recovered with remarkable speed. “Nobody’s going to cook you, Maggie.”

  “You brought her here to cook me.” Maggie’s pale blue eyes widened in fear as a fresh wave of fear crashed over her. “You got rid of Sam and now you want to get rid of me.”

  “I didn’t do anything to Sam,” he said quietly. “And I’d never hurt you, Maggie.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and started back toward the house. “Please go lie down. You need your rest.”

  “I’ve had my rest,” Maggie snapped. “That devil woman’s going to cut me open and steal my baby.”

  Lucy watched in silence as Jed struggled to get Maggie inside the shack again.

  “You’ll be fine,” he soothed. “I promise not to let her touch anything sharp.”

  He closed the door, then leaned his forehead against it. A second later, a loud thud sounded from the inside.

  Jed looked up at Lucy and smiled sadly. “She sometimes likes to keep the door barred.”

  Lucy could have pretended to care, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. Maggie would be easy enough to take; it was Jed she needed to focus on. If he thought for one second something was amiss, he’d no doubt bring everything to a halt, and Lucy didn’t have time for that.

  “The stove?” she asked again.

  Jed pushed away from the door and pointed toward a large circle of rocks with a spit set above a pile of cold embers. “We cook over the fire.”

  “What fire?” She offered him a saucy little smile, and even added a head tilt for good measure.

  The slow grin that spread across Jed’s face left Lucy unsettled.

  “The fire you’re going to build once you get the chips collected,” he answered.

  Lucy gaped. “What? You don’t really expect me. . .”

  “’Course,” he answered. “Thought we covered that back at the auction.” He moved around the corner of the house and returned a moment later with a small wooden pushcart.

  “Here you go.”

  “But--”

  “No buts, remember?” When she made no move to take the handles from him, he set it at her feet and walked away.

  “Wait,” she called. “I can’t pick up. . .that.”

  “’Course you can,” he answered over his shoulder. “Go get the gloves we bought and just make sure the chips are good ‘n hard before you touch them.”

  Bile swirled up Lucy’s throat. He had to be joking. She was Lucille Firr – the Devil’s daughter! She’d done a lot of humiliating things in her day, but picking up animal chips wasn’t one of them. And regardless of what she might have said back at the auction, she had no intention of starting now.

  She tugged her collar open a bit more, fluffed her hair and worked up her most seductive smile.

  “But, Jed,” she said softly, following him back toward the wagon. “It’s such a smelly thing for a lady to do, and my gloves are in the house with Maggie.”

  “No chips, no fire.” He didn’t stop to look at her – and she was putting on a fine show with her hips swaying and her head tilted to the side a little. She even set her lips in what she’d been told was a beautiful little pout.

  She stepped around the wagon and slid her hands up his back, loving the feel of hard muscles against her palms.

  “I’d rather light your fire,” she purred.

  Jed’s hands stilled atop a large bag of flour. For a second, she thought she’d won him over, but then –

  “We already talked about that, Lucy,” he said, his voice a little tighter than before.

  “No,” she murmured. “You talked.” She moved around him, trailing her finger over his shoulder, then across his jaw. When his Adam’s apple bobbed hard, she pushed his hat off and slid both hands through his hair. “Now it’s my turn to talk.”

  “Lucy--” he stepped back, but she wasn’t about to let him get away. The sooner she finished this, the sooner she’d be rid of this ugly dress and that pathetic shack.

  “We’re married, Jed,” she whispered. “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, with no one to see what we’re doing.” She pressed herself against him. “I could do things to you that’d make your--”

  “Stop it.” Jed pulled her hands away and stepped back again, holding her at a safe distance. “We had a deal, Lucy.”

  “What deal is that?” She tried to tug her hands free, but his grip tightened.

  He paused only long enough to lick his lips. “I made it pretty clear you weren’t the woman I needed out here. One of them other girls was more what I wanted.”

  Once again, Lucy wasn’t what anyone wanted. Not the mother who’d abandoned her, certainly not her father, and now not even her husband wanted her.

  “They were ugly.” She pushed her lip out a bit further, but Jed didn’t look the least bit swayed.

  Damn it.

  “They were sturdy,” he corrected. “Strong, able-bodied women who’d have gotten right to work when we arrived here. That’s what you agreed to.”

  “Did I?” No – she wouldn’t have agreed to such nonsense. But, thinking back, she’d been awfully distracted by her man’s dark eyes and clean smell. And, of course, the knowledge that she needed him to fulfill her plan.

  Maybe she had agreed to it.

  Lucy shrugged. It was irrelevant what she may or may not have agreed to. She didn’t have to actually do it. Not her.

  “Yes, you did.” Jed released her hands and nodded toward the cart behind her. “It’s getting late and Maggie could use a hot meal, so I suggest you get to work.”

  “Why can’t you cut down a tree?”

  He sighed heavily. “Look around, Lucy. There’s not exactly an abundance of trees, and the ones we have will be needed for the house and a proper barn. We can’t waste them on a fire.”

  There wasn’t exactly an abundance of anything on Jed’s land. Far in the distance, there were trees – big ones, too – but he obviously wasn’t to be convinced. Surely there was something else they could burn --

  “What about those?” she asked, pointing to the scatterings of prickly pears and thatches of mesquite bushes whose blooms had all seen better days.

  “We’re going to need those for corrals and the like.” He smiled at her, but it only grated against her nerves more. “The buffalo herds were kind enough to leave plenty of things to burn when they came through, and we piled it up where we were working, so all you need do is go collect it. If you walk the fence line, you’re sure to find plenty of piles to choose from.”

  “But--” She curled her fingers into tight fists.

  “No buts.” He moved around her and set to work on shifting more of the supplies toward the back of the wagon. “I’ll get the supplies stored, and you’d best set to work on that fire. There’s matches in the house.”

  House. Lucy choked back a snort. That dingy little shack was most definitely not a house – certainly not one she wanted to be living in, especially with a lunatic like Maggie.

  “No.” She was not going to touch buffalo dung, even with gloves. She risked her entire plan by refusing, but she couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it.

  “No?” Jed chuckled, but there was no humor in it. In fact, he almost sounded indifferent. How could that be? She’d been seductive, she’d been sweet, and when that didn’t work, she’d been adamant. Men liked those traits in a woman. Didn’t they?

  “Fine with me,” he said. ”I’m used to cold beans.”

  “Good, because I won’t do it, Jed.” She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in defiance. “So you can eat all the cold beans you like.”

  He shrugged, but didn’t respond. If he thought for one minute he could be more stubborn than s
he, he was in for a rude awakening.

  “You can’t make me do it.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, without looking at her. “I can’t.”

  He hauled the huge bag of flour out of the wagon and threw it over his shoulder. “Maggie and her baby could do with a nice hot meal, but they’ve survived so far on cold beans and pork, so I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  Did he honestly think guilt would work on her? Stupid man.

  When Lucy didn’t respond or move, he simply pushed past her as if she wasn’t there and headed toward the barn.

  No one treated her that way – no one! He’d be good and sorry when he realized who she was. It would make the final moments of his life that much more enjoyable.

  And they could go ahead and eat their stupid beans cold for all she cared. Maybe they’d choke on them.

  So long as they didn’t die before she claimed that baby’s soul.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Maggie’s means of barring the door consisted of dropping the Bible on the floor in front of it. Lucy pushed it aside with the edge of the door and stepped inside.

  Over in the corner, Maggie lay curled up on the mattress again, whimpering in her sleep. Being mad must take a lot out of a person.

  “Just look at you.”

  Lucy started at the unexpected voice.

  Deacon. She should have expected him, yet seeing him there sent tremors through her veins. Before he sensed her fear, she slammed a wall up between them – she couldn’t let him see into her soul. He might be her brother, but he was very much their father’s son.

  “What do you want?” She relit the lamp, low this time, then slumped down on the least rickety chair.

  “Just came to see how my favorite sister’s doing with her new husband.” Deacon set his black bowler hat on the small table, then swiped the seat of the other chair with one of his pristine white gloves before sitting. A narrow, twitching nose poked out from inside Deacon’s coat pocket, then wiggled the entire body out onto his lap.

  “Ugh – why do you still keep that thing?” Lucy wrinkled her nose at the white ferret as it sniffed the air.

  Deacon smiled down at the little rodent and scratched it gently behind the ears.

  “You can’t stay here,” Lucy said. “If Maggie wakes up, or Jed sees you, he’ll--”

  “He’ll what? Force me into an ugly old rag like that?” Deacon shuddered.

  Lucy suppressed a grin; her brother was nothing if not vain. He wore only the fanciest of silk suits, the most stylish hats, and his boots showed nary a scuff. So why he let a filthy little ferret crawl all over him was beyond her.

  Maggie sobbed quietly and rolled into a tight ball, pulling the blanket tight under her chin.

  “Interesting choice you’ve made this time, Lucille.” Deacon’s gaze fixed pointedly on her, looking through her, down into her soul. “Are you sure you’re ready to risk your future on this? If you quit now, I’m sure Father would understand.”

  “It was hardly my choice,” she answered, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. Their father would definitely not understand, and she was not about to quit. “What do you care, anyway?”

  He lifted the ferret in one hand until they were nose to nose.

  “Surely you know me better than that,” he sneered. “When have I ever cared about you or anything you do?”

  A short moment of silence – barely a heartbeat – brought the reality of her brother’s visit crashing down around her.

  “No.” Dread filled Lucy’s lungs until she could barely breathe.

  He didn’t speak, but his silence screamed the truth.

  “Deacon – he promised he wouldn’t interfere.”

  All the strength drained from her body; this couldn’t be happening. She’d planned everything so carefully, so cautiously, but she’d never planned for this.

  “Lucille--”

  “No,” she repeated, anger washing over the dread. “He promised!”

  Deacon shook his head slowly. She hated him most when he looked at her in that patronizingly superior way of his.

  “We’re talking about Satan, Lucille. After all these years, do you really think you can trust anything he says?”

  Of course she couldn’t. She knew that. Everyone knew that.

  Heat flamed her skin, and her heart pounded against her ribs. “I’m his daughter. Surely that means something to him.” How could she have been so stupid?

  “Of course it means something.” Deacon chuckled, completely unsympathetic. “It means he takes a more personal interest in seeing you fail.”

  As he spoke, his pale blue eyes remained fixed and unblinking on his pet’s face.

  Lucy eyed her brother suspiciously for a long moment before asking the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to.

  “How are you involved?” she asked, forcing calm into her voice.

  “You know the answer to that.” As he rose from his chair, he eased the ferret back into his pocket, then reached for his hat, swiping invisible lint from its brim. “I’m here to ensure he gets what he wants.”

  She reached to touch him, but then pulled back. “Please, Deacon, you can’t.”

  He shrugged. “Of course I can. I’ve already begun.”

  “How--” She stopped short. It made sense now. “You have Maggie’s husband.”

  Deacon’s head tipped in the barest of nods. “Stupid man. He honestly believed by making a deal with me, his child would be born healthy and they’d all live the rest of their miserable lives together as though everything was fine.”

  It all made sense now. Deacon and her father had set her up, had given her a tiny flicker of hope all the while knowing it was futile.

  She wouldn’t let Deacon have the satisfaction of winning so easily. “Of course you neglected to mention that he’d never see his wife or child again.”

  “It wasn’t mentioned, no.” Deacon shrugged again. “Humans trust too easily.”

  “And the part about me coming to take their child’s soul, regardless of what he did or didn’t do--”

  “If he knew that, would either one of us be sitting here now?”

  Lucy ground her teeth together. Deacon already had Sam, so all he’d have to do was dangle that knowledge in front of Maggie, and she’d no doubt take whatever bargain Deacon offered her, even if it meant giving up her own soul and that of her baby.

  Once again, Lucy would be left out, only this time, she’d pay the eternal price for it. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give Sam to me?”

  “Dear, simple, stupid Lucille.” Deacon set his hat back on his head and pulled on each glove with slow precision. “Why would I give up anything I’ve rightfully taken? We’re talking about Satan!”

  She knew full well who they were talking about. But she hadn’t planned on Deacon’s interference. Her father had promised her a chance at freedom, and she’d been foolish enough to believe him.

  Dear, simple, stupid Lucille.

  Deacon adjusted his gloves, keeping his gaze everywhere except on her. “You’d do the same thing if you were me, and we both know it.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. He was right. She’d take him down in a heartbeat if Satan told her to. At least Deacon had the decency to admit it.

  “Maggie knows about us, doesn’t she?”

  “Of course; she’s very perceptive that one.” Deacon smirked. “It’s unfortunate the rest of the world thinks she’s mad.”

  “Does she know what you’ve done to Sam?”

  “There’s a part of her twisted mind that knows.” Deacon’s eyes flashed with silent mirth. “Being human, of course, she refuses to believe it.”

  “And you’re using that to push her over the edge of insanity.”

  Deacon nuzzled his stupid ferret again. “Your being here is helping me in that regard.”

  “I won’t let you do it.” Lucy’s voice was low, barely audible to her own ears, but he heard her.

>   Finally, his eyes met hers again. “You can’t stop it, Lucille. I already have the husband and we both know that woman--” he tipped his head in Maggie’s direction – “will do anything to try and get him back.”

  “But she can’t get him back.”

  “True.” Deacon’s expression remained impassive. “Lucky for us, she doesn’t know that.”

  “So why not take her now?”

  He hesitated before answering. “You know why.”

  The baby. They both needed the child’s soul, and the only way to get it was to wait for it to be born. Too bad for Lucy that Deacon had an ace up his sleeve in the form of Maggie’s husband.

  Deacon straightened his suit jacket and tipped his hat to the left just a touch. “You can’t win this, Lucille. It’s simply a matter of whether you give up now, or make me take you by force, as I will with the entire Caine family if necessary.”

  Without another word, Deacon was gone, leaving Lucy to her despair and worries while the cramped room closed in around her.

  Deacon was a powerful adversary, no question, and he’d do everything he could to drag her back to Hell with him. He’d win, too. Satan always won, and if he sent Deacon to do his bidding, then he fully expected Deacon to win, too.

  What made her think she was smart enough – or strong enough – to stand against him and try to win her freedom? She’d seen others attempt the same thing, others who were stronger and much more capable. Yet not a single one had found success.

  Why should she be any different?

  Failing would mean spending the rest of eternity in Hell with no hope of ever getting out. Not ever. She would never have the chance to live freely, doing as she pleased. Instead, she would be forced into the deepest part of Hell – a part no human could imagine, where the darkness weighed on a soul until it suffocated a million times over.

  Lucy couldn’t let that happen. Granted, as Satan’s child, she would never feel emotions as humans felt them; she’d never experience peace or joy or love, but at least she would be free of the anguish and desperation she’s been threatened with her whole life.

  Lucy’s mind raced against a mixture of panic and determination.