The Black Swan

by Day Taylor

  His head grew light. His blood raced.

  His hands moved down flat against her belly, his thumbs caressing her thighs where they parted.

  Dulcie looked into his darkened eyes, her own half-closed, her nostrils flaring with passion. It was this she wanted, the touch of her lover's hands upon her secret flesh, the union of his body with hers, holding him within her as she had held no man.

  His hands moved on her gently, making them both shudder.

  He placed her fingers on the top button of his trousers. His lips were on hers, his tongue sliding against hers, as she fumbled shakily with the tight fastening.

  Adam moaned softly as he murmured her name. She

  jumped away from him, drawing in her breath in a screaming gasp. Rain and the wind whirled through the small room as the door let go of its hinges and crashed to the floor behind Adam. Then her heart exploded in her breast, leaving her without the means to breathe.

  Wolf.

  The torrential rain poured down on the overseer, funnel-ing off his sodden hat down his neck, streaming down his filthy shirt and trousers. He smiled hungrily at Dulcie, a grimace of broken, tobacco-stained teeth, his face flushed with lust. With one hand he held his erect penis, moving the hand away from himself and back with rapid purpose. Then his body curved forward, his face growing red and tight, his body twitching in pleasured spasms.

  Adam instinctively moved toward Wolf. "Oh, God! You stinkin' bastard!"

  Dulcie's breath came in sobs. He took her in his arms, pressing her face against his chest, shielding her from Wolf's obscenity.

  It was over in seconds. "I been a-watchin* y'all," Wolf grinned.

  Adam, unable to move without exposing Dulcie, was white with impotent rage. His voice shook. "Get out of here!"

  "Naow don't y'all worry none. I wouldn't tell Mr. Moran." Wolf grinned again. "But I am't a-gonna fergit what-all I seen, neither."

  "You son of a bitch. I'm going to kill you." Adam's voice was deep and grating.

  "Cap'n," said Wolf in the burlesque of respect he loved to show his betters, "you ain't a-gonna kill me. Dulcie's treated me like shit ever since she was a snot-nosed brat. Naow things is changed, ain't they. I seen her fer what she is. I ain't a-gonna fergit that. No sirree!"

  Adam's hands tightened painfully. He pressed against the back of Dulcie's head as though he would drive her inside the protective shell of his own body.

  Wolf moved out of sight. Quickly Adam picked up his frock coat. He wrapped it around her. She turned her face from him, shamed and horrified. She stood paralyzed with humiliation, clutching his coat against her.

  They heard the sharp crack of a whip and Wolfs shouted "Giddap!" As the horses whinnied, Adam sprang

  through the door. Strawberry and the blue roan cantered riderless into the pines.

  Wolf was mounting his own horse. Adam, running, was almost on him when, laughing. Wolf whipped his horse. The animal leaped forward, taking him out of Adam's reach. He reined in and turned around. "Cap'n, y'all ain't a-gonna do nuthin'." He disappeared into the storm.

  The rain pelted down coldly on Adam. His breathing hurt his chest. In frustrated fury he returned to the cabin. Dulcie cowered in the darkest corner. She looked up in fear as he stood in the doorway, water running from his body to make darker pools on the dirt floor.

  Adam shuddered. "Oh, God, Dulcie." He wanted to erase the terrible moments by his presence, to hold her against him to stop her shaking and make her feel loved and safe once more.

  She cringed at his touch. Her voice was high. "D-don*t touch me!"

  He put out his hands to her. She pressed herself against the filthy damp wall. He touched her hair, his face sad and tender. "Don't do this, Dulcie, don't."

  "Don't look at me!" she shrieked, her eyes wide, filled with shame.

  He laid her clothes in a pile near her. "Get dressed, Dulcie," he said gently and reached for his coat.

  She grasped at it, clawing at the material as she held it tightly against her. "No! Go away. Let me be!"

  "Don't be ashamed, Dulcie. You . . . you could never be anything but beautiful to me. I'm sorry it happened."

  A strangled sound tore from her throat. Once more he tried to touch her, and she shrank from him. "I won't look at you, darling."

  "Don't call me darling! Don't call me anythin'! Don*t speak to me—ever!"

  "I was just going to hold the coat for you, like a screen."

  With a quick bend of her knees she grabbed for her pantalettes. "Turn around!" She struggled one-handed to put the pantalettes on, still holding his coat against her, not trusting him to keep his back turned. He heard the rustling of cloth as his coat fell to the floor, her hysterical commands. "Stay as you are! Don't look!'*

  "Dulcie, please—listen to me."

  She swept past him, running for the door. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around so that she stood pinned

  against him. "What do you think you're doing? You can't go out there alone."

  She struggled, then gave up, staring past him, her mouth set, her eyes fixed on nothing.

  He released her, gently caressing her arms. "I'm sorry, Dulcie. Things seem to turn out wrong for us."

  "So you said." Her voice was toneless.

  "It would have been an act of joy, not a thing to remember in shame—"

  "Oh?" Her eyes flickered over his bare chest, then rose to his mouth and to his eyes. Her gaze was filled with bitter self-pity. "Shall I undress for you again?"

  Blood swept his face like a dark flame.

  Tears formed in her golden eyes, but she held herself straighter and disciplined her trembling mouth. "Adam, if you had said once, just one time, that you loved me, even if it was a Ke . . . But you didn't say it, did you?"

  Adam hesitated too long, her hypocrisy choking him.

  Her tears spilled over. "You needn't bother, Captain Tremain," she said woodenly. "Your opportunity has passed. I no longer wish to hear—anything."

  "And you won't, Miss Moran."

  She turned away from him, her back stiff. But she waited until he was dressed, and they walked together out of the cabin into the heavy rain.

  As they neared the edge of the woods in sight of the plantation buildings, Adam said, "I'm going to carry you."

  "You are not!"

  He scooped her up, holding her so tightly she could not kick him, "Put your arm around my neck. Your horse fell. You hurt your back."

  "I'm not goin' to lie."

  "You are, and I am. And if you must stay in bed for a day or two to preserve your reputation, consider it worthwhile."

  It was a long distance across the fields to the house, and all the way Dulcie was forced to listen to the regular beating of Adam's heart

  Patricia, standing anxiously at the window, saw them coming. She flew to the back door. "Dulcie, honey, what's happened to you, baby?"

  "I'm all right. Mama," Didcie said hastily. "Strawberry caught her foot and threw me. And when Adam picked

  me up, a terrible crack of thunder made the horses bolt He's had to carry me the whole way home. I've strained my back, I think."

  With Patricia and Claudine hovering anxiously, Adam laid Dulcie very gently on her bed and departed immediately, closing the door.

  "Is the pain very bad, honey?" asked Patricia as Claudine began stripping off her sodden garments.

  Now Dulcie let the scalding tears flow. "Oh, Mama, it hurts. It hurts!"

  The flurry of activity and attention ended. Patricia went downstairs. Dulcie lay in bed, a book open by her, but she was looking out the window at the rain.

  "Miss Dulcie, you dint hut yo' back. Somethin' else hap-pen.

  Dulcie looked at Claudine without answering. She began to read. Soon Patricia would gently lecture her about the inadvisability of being alone with a gentleman. Dulcie would say that it was happenstance, how lucky he had come along then, and explain that Adam had been very kind.

  "You ain't cryin* 'cause o' yo' back."

  "I'm
not cryin' at all!"

  "No'm, but the tears leakin' anyway. Did you an' Mastah Adam fin'lly have each other?"

  Dulcie's look was at first shocked, then defiant, then the bitter despair overlaid her features. "Oh, Claudine, he could never love me now!"

  She knew that nothing she would say could astound Claudine. In words poured out against the pillow while Claudine rubbed her back soothingly, she relived the moments of being lovingly held and—almost—taken. The revulsion of seeing Wolf, the glimpse of his hand before Adam had shielded her. Now, the awful, abysmal sense of dishonor, degradation, of utter loss.

  "Miss Dulcie, you got to put a good face on it. Iffen you does any mo' cryin', yo' mama gwine know somethin' ain't what you says."

  "Claudine, I'm ruined anyway, I might as well—"

  "De only way you ruin' is in yo' own min'. An' dat's de worst way. But you ain't gwine do it wiff him, not any mo.

  "What would be the difference? If my mind is soiled,

  then my body might as well enjoy it. That's all that's left to me now."

  "No, ma'am!" Claudine said emphatically. "You tries it now, you jes* gettin' even wiff yo'seff, an' it won't be no fun no way! You is gwine stay in baid 'til Mastah Adam leave. Dey ain't gwine be no slippin' out an' makin' ev'thin' wussf

  "Since when are you my mammy?"

  "Jes' hesh yo' mouf. We gwine git you thoo dis 'thout a scratch."

  The house stayed quiet, too quiet, until dinnertime. Even the youngest cousins tiptoed in deference to Dulcie's injury. After dinner Jeannie, Jenny, Gay, and Millie came hesitand}^ to her door. Soon they were twittering like gaily dressed birds. At dark Claudine left, making Gay promise that she would sleep overnight in the trundle bed by Dulcie. "Ah got a lots o' warshin' to do," she explained. "Might take me a long time."

  So Dulcie was imprisoned, though with her favorite cousin.

  Adam endured the evening with forced smiles, pretended hilarity, and good nature as the men played poker. After a run of poor luck he put down his cards and concealed a yawn. Without hurry, he excused himself.

  As he lit the lamp in his room, a movement caught his eye. "Claudine! Is Dulcie—?"

  "She fine, Mastah Adam. Ah come to tell you dat," she said with a strange calm.

  He looked at her thoughtfully.

  Claudine moved deeper into the room, nearer to him. "You a fine gent'man." Her eyes admired him, too linger-ingly.

  "Did Mr. Moran send you here?" he asked harshly.

  "Nossuh!" she said indignantly. "Mastah Jem doan do dat wiff his niggers. We's too val'able. Ain't nobody send me.

  Adam crossed his arms in wary silence.

  "Ah come to you 'cause you needin' a woman bad.**

  "Well, that's nothing to do with you." He indicated the door.

  "Ah knows how to pleasure a man right smart. Ah'd in-joy pleasurin' you." Her smile was gentle and dreamy.

  His voice was hard as steel. "When I'm a man's guest,

  I don't use his servants for my private gratification. Get the hell out of my room!" He held the door open, then closed it firmly after her.

  He changed into dark gray trousers and sweater. Every muscle tense, he sat on the balcony, listening for the noises of the poker party to cease. His eyes, accustomed to night watching, saw the lights go out in the quarters and an occasional subtle change in the dark as someone moved across it.

  He waited another hour, then swung over the balcony railing, and made his way down the ornamental iron pillar. His clothing blended in with the murky darkness. He ran through the yard, keeping to the trees, stealthily slippmg past the slave quarters.

  Wolfs cabin stood out from the others. It was larger, and a lamp lit its windows. He kicked the door open. The overseer lay with a slatternly looking Negress, wearing only his filthy union suit, a pointed lump in its front.

  Both Wolf's and the woman's eyes bulged. Adam filled the low doorway. He motioned to the woman. As she sidled past him, Adam moved pantherlike, his hand chopping sharply at Wolfs erection. Wolf shrieked and clutched himself with a grimace of surprised pain.

  Adam stood over him. "Woif, I hear you've been telling lies about me. I don't like that"

  "Jesus Christ, Cap'n," Wolf groaned hoarsely. "What you talkin' 'bout? I ain't said nothin' 'bout nobody!"

  Adam's hand shot out, palm up, fingers stiff, and caught Wolf in the pit of his stomach. Wolf groaned. His hand moved to protect himself. "I never told nothin'—I swear! I ain't a-gonna say nothin'!"

  Outside the Negroes began to gather. Black voices started singing. "Ah's dreamui' now of Hallie, sweet Hallie, sweet Hallie."

  Then, as the noises in the cabin grew louder, so did the chorus: "Lissen to de mockin' bud, lissen to de mockin' bud!"

  Panicked, cornered, Wolf grabbed his whiskey bottle, hitting it on the table. Glass and liquor splattered. On his toes, prepared to spring, Adam circled. Wolfs breath came in sharp, painful gasps. Adam lunged with a knife-edged chop that broke Wolfs left arm. Enraged with pain and crazy with fright, Wolf struck down with the broken bottle neck, grinding it into Adam's shoulder.

  Adam broke two of Wolf's ribs with a sickening snap. Oblivious to the pain in his shoulder or to the overseer's agonized howls, Adam worked Wolf over with painful jabs that made the man's muscles writhe.

  Wolf lay crumpled in the corner. Adam stood over him panting, fury still distorting his features. "Go near her, breathe a word to her or about her—I'll find out. I'll come after you. I'll kill you."

  "I . . . won't . . . talk," Wolf moaned.

  Adam strode out of the cabin. As he passed the blacks, a hundred hands reached out to touch him. Old 'Simmon whispered, "Thanky, Mistah. Thanky."

  Behind him Barney closed Wolf's door. The others melted into their cabins. Deaf to his pathetic whimpering, they would let Wolf lie till morning.

  Adam went up noiselessly the way he'd come down. He stripped off his clothes. Naked, he went to the washbowl, soaped and rinsed himself. Toweling his body, he realized blood was still dripping down his arm.

  He lit the lamp and leaned toward the mirror, struggling to reach the wound.

  "Ah fix it fo' you," said a soft voice.

  He jumped nearly out of his skin. "What — ?" He suddenly remembered to lower his voice. He hissed, "I told you to get out."

  "Ah seen what you doin' an' Ah come back 'case you need help."

  Adam, aware of his nakedness, looped the towel around his loins and tucked it in. "All right," he said angrily. "Get that damned cut stopped!"

  "You got to set down. You's so high up. Ah cain't see nothin'."

  Claudine's fingers moved skillfully along his shoulder, cleansing the gouge, soaking it with bay rum, finally stopping the bleeding. She poured the bloodied water into the slop jar, dropping the used towel into it. "Ah take that out after a bit," she said, gazing at him steadily.

  Adam remained seated, not wanting to risk standing up and losing his towel. She blew out the lamp. Then she was kneeling in front of him. She undid his covering, and her quick fingers circled his penis. "Ah's gwine pleasure you real fine." She bent her head down toward him.

  Adam roused to a tapping at his door. He looked around hastily. The sun was high. Claudine was gone. "Just a minute!" He dressed and opened the door.

  Jem was standing there, a shotgun in his hand. "There's trouble at the quarters. Some' o' the darkies gave Wolf a hell of a beatin'."

  Adam, Robert, and Jem, all armed, walked to Wolf's cabin. "He in heah, Mastah Jem," said 'Sinmion. "He say he bad hurt."

  Wolf lay on his stinking bunk, groaning. His eyes flew open when he saw Adam. He tried to rise and fell back, "Don't hurt me anymore!"

  Jem looked sharply at Adam. "Is he talkin' to you?"

  "Are you talkin' to me, Wolf?" Adam asked, incredulously.

  "Nossir, nossir. Thought you was somebody else." Wolf was holding his left arm, breathing with evident pain.

  Jem demanded, "Who did this to you. Wolf?"

  "Nobody, Mr. Mora
n," Wolf asserted stoutly.

  "Don't talk crap! Was it the darkies?"

  "If anybody's missin' that's who it was, Mr. Moran."

  "Out with it, Wolf! Were you foolin' around with somebody's woman?"

  "Yeah, that's it, Mr. Moran.,I got me into a whorehouse brawl in S'vannah." His eyes darted to Adam. "Jes' barely made it home."

  'That was damn stupid. One more time, Wolf, and your ass is off my plantation. Barney!! Get Ludy and have her put Wolf back together."

  "Yassuh." Barney moved with leisurely relish toward the nursery.

  As they walked back to the house, Adam began, "I'm sorry to tell you this—now that you're having trouble with your overseer—"

  Jem eyed him apprehensively. "You know somethin* about this?"

  "No, sir. I'm leaving earlier than I had planned. I've got to be in Savannah to see to my cargo."

  Jem's face was a mixture of relief and disappointment "You know I'm mighty sorry that you can't stay. We've got a fine big soiree planned for you on Saturday evenin'. Maybe you could make it back for that?"

  Adam shook his head regretfully. "We'll still be loading

  then, sir. Mr. Moran, your hospitality has been first-rate. It's been so pleasant here, I wish I could stay."

  Jem beamed. "I'm sure Dulcie will be sorry to see you go, Adam."

  The unspoken question hung between them.

  "Perhaps so, sir. Dulcie is a charming lady. It'll be a lucky man who marries her some day." His tone was properly respectful, properly detached.

  Jem, understanding his message, sighed and went into the house.

  Adam and Robert strolled around the yard, smelling the aroma of breakfast bacon and biscuits. Robert mused, "Last time I saw a man take a beating like Wolf did, it was Leroy Biggs. Funny . . ."

  Adam scowled at his companion. Robert's lips twitched. Their eyes met in understanding, and both looked away.

  Dulcie had her own ideas about playing invalid. She did not intend to be stuck in her boresome bedroom, with Adam unable to come in or even pause in the doorway to inquire after her well-being. It was unbearable not knowing if she'd see scorn or caring on his face. Did he loathe her now? Think her cheap? Or had he spoken truly saying she was always beautiful to him?