Catey's Capture

by Ainsley Abbott

  She stared at him unbelieving, unmoving.

  Like a striking viper, he was suddenly right in front of her, his face so close she could barely make it out, his calloused hand tight on her throat, choking off her breath so that red and yellow lights flickered in the periphery of her vision. “I said strip, whore, or you won’t live to see the sun rise.”

  She gasped and staggered as his hand released her and he backed a few paces away. “Now!” he said. “And make it nice and slow and nice.” He smiled showing the stumps of his teeth.

  Her mind roiled. She had no choice. Slowly she reached up and began to push the thin gown off her right shoulder. Then she took her other hand and pushed the gown from her left shoulder, feeling the garment droop as it slipped down. She kept her arms crossed over her bosom, her eyes on the ground.

  “Don’t stop there, missy,” he said. She could hear his breathing coming quicker—there was a rasp to his whispered command.

  She pulled her arms from the short sleeves and the gown dropped, unhindered, puddling around her ankles. She felt hot blood infusing her face as she stood in the night air stark naked, shivering, trying to cover herself as best she could with her arms.

  He was breathing more rapidly now. “Put them hands behind yer back. I want to see everything.”

  She felt tears beginning to slip down from her eyelids but did as he said, shivering. She heard his quick intake of breath.

  “I think I’d better have me some of that,” he said.

  Suddenly he was on her, shoving her to the ground and pushing his knee between her legs. She struggled frantically but his weight held her pinned, his thick, filthy beard covering her face so she had to gasp for breath. Sobbing with frustration and fear, she thrashed harder. This only seemed to amuse him and he lowered his head, trying to put his lips on her mouth. Panting and crying, she threw her head back and forth to avoid him, feeling the rough dirt and leaves imprinting on her back. She tried to kick but her thighs were held tight against the ground, her legs spread wide. She knew he was going to rape her. She bit her lips, trying to keep from sobbing. She felt his penis hard in his pants as he began to fumble with his buttons.

  “Get off her!” The voice was as cold as steel. Jess’ voice.

  Suddenly Cripps became very still.

  “I said, get off her, you pig!”

  She could feel Daryl Cripps tense but slowly he slid to one side, leaving her totally exposed and shaking. She could see Jess’ outline against the moon—like an avenging angel, gun aimed unwaveringly at the other man.

  Jess tossed her nightgown at her. “Get dressed,” he said. She did as he told her, holding her arms around herself to keep from being sick. She was unable to see Jess’ face clearly but his voice was one she’d never heard before and it chilled her to the bone.

  “Mr. Cripps, I believe I told you before this little lady is mine. Did you think I was joking?”

  By now Cripps was on his feet, his pants buttoned. He cleared his throat, obviously at a loss for words. “I was jes messin’ with her, Lieutenant. I weren’t really going to do nothing.”

  “Is that a fact?” Jess uncocked his gun and put it in his holster. The next thing Catey knew, Jess let fly with a fist that connected with Cripps’ nose. There was a sickening crack and blood spurted everywhere. Cripps cried out in pain but stopped short when another blow landed solidly in the soft flesh of his abdomen. He doubled over and fell to his knees. Another blow splayed him flat on the ground.

  Jess stood over him, breathing deeply through his nose, Catey could almost see the sparks flashing from his eyes. “We’ll just say, Private, this little incident was just nothin’ too. Okay?” Cripps moaned but Catey could see a slight nod.

  Having dealt with Cripps, Jess turned on Catey and she was suddenly afraid. His hand clamped over her upper arm and without a word, he dragged her forcibly back toward the house, her feet barely able to keep up with his long strides.

  Once in the house, the pace became too much for her and she tripped and half fell. He caught her up easily and carried her up the sweeping staircase to the bedroom. She could feel his heart beating and feel his breath hot on her face. The fear she’d initially felt was slowly being replaced by a sense of something else—the ripple of his muscles where he held her tightly did nothing to lessen a wanton sense of desire. She knew he was angry—but she could also sense in him something more, something akin to relief.

  Once in the room he tossed her onto the bed. Moonlight from the window fell brightly on his face and what she saw in his eyes made her cringe. There was anger but even more, there was pain.

  He struck flint to the lamp and placed it on the bedside table, bringing a soft flickering light to drive back the shadows.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was low, his face set in rigid planes of controlled emotions.

  Catey rubbed her upper arm where his grip had left a slight bruise. “Yes… I think so.” She sniffed delicately, lowering her lashes. This performance had always worked on her father when she was in trouble.

  But Jess wasn’t falling for it. “Did he?” Jess’ eyes were hard, now and he lifted her chin to look into her eyes where truth couldn’t hide.

  She glared at him, then shook his hand off. “No. He didn’t. But what difference does it make to you?” She was being petulant and childish but she didn’t care.

  Jess let out his breath slowly. “Because if he did, I’d have to kill him,” he said calmly.

  Catey looked at him and knew he was telling the truth. She shivered, suddenly unsure what to say.

  Finally he stood, moving to the dressing table where he placed both hands on the surface and leaned heavily, looking into the mirror. Was he trembling?

  Catey rose and came to stand behind him. She placed a hand on his arm. He flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position. I‑I…had to…” How could she tell him? Dare she tell him why she was running around the grounds in her mother’s nightdress?

  He turned and looked down at her, the anger gone but the sadness and pain still heavy in his brown and green flecked eyes. She thought he looked very tired.

  “Why did you run?” he asked. “Why did you risk everything to run? You know they’d kill you. Do you hate me that much?”

  Catey stared at him taken aback. Could he be hurt? Could he care for her enough to feel betrayed? “But I didn’t!” she said simply. “I wasn’t running. I‑I…” she faltered, unable to think of what to say next. How could she tell him about Sarah—and Emery and John? How could she risk their lives? She’d already proven her naïveté the moment he’d taken her father’s gun away from her. How could she trust her own judgment?

  He cocked his head to one side, raising a finger to automatically push a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “If you weren’t running away, then what in the name of all that’s holy were you doing out there?”

  She bit her lip. What could she say? Emery was badly hurt, he could die. She had to do something—but was she ready to trust this Yankee soldier?

  “I-I thought I could get away.” It came out as barely a whisper but she felt his disappointment and knew he’d been hoping she would have a different explanation.

  “So… I guess there’s no chance you’ll ever trust me.” His voice was resigned.

  She began to shiver, afraid she’d done the wrong thing. Afraid that by keeping Emery’s secret, she may have sentenced her brother to a slow and painful death. But if she told Jess, how could she be sure he wouldn’t just finish the job the other Yankee soldiers had begun?

  He could feel her shivering. He realized suddenly the immensity of the ordeal she’d just experienced. She was still so innocent—so vulnerable. He pulled her into his arms and cradled her, wanting to quell her shaking, feeling tears begin to slip from her eyes and wet his shirtfront.

  He lifted her and placed her on the bed, stroking her face, her
arms… Running a finger gently across her half parted lips. He bent his head and kissed her wet eyelids, moving his lips to her wet cheeks, touching the tip of her nose then covering her mouth with his own.

  Catey felt the betraying wetness between her legs, felt her nipples harden in response, felt her mouth open to his teasing tongue. Suddenly all her doubts disappeared to be replaced by a pure and unfettered desire. Her fingers moved automatically to his belt, fumbling ineptly. He stood up and quickly disposed of his clothing his eyes never leaving her face. She pulled the nightgown over her head, then grasped his shoulders, pulling him to her, wrapping her arms around him, needing to feel his mouth against hers, the hard muscles of his thighs against her own—his penis hard and ready to burst, already prodding gently at the opening to her aching vagina.

  She reached down and guided his shaft to its destination, crying out in abandon as it slipped into her like a smooth stone into water. She grabbed his buttocks and pulled him deeper, wanting more. He thrust hard and she cried out again, his tongue dancing in and out of her mouth. He thrust again and she felt a welling in her—as though she were a coil being slowly wound. He thrust again and the coil tightened, her clitoris hot and throbbing. He thrust again—deeper—and suddenly she was on the edge, balanced precariously wanting more. He thrust once more, harder, his finger finding and pushing gently on her clitoris and suddenly she exploded, myriad colors and lights flickering, her vagina spasming uncontrollably against his still-hard shaft. Sweat sheened her body and she felt as though she were floating as he continued to thrust into her, suddenly crying out himself, his organ pulsing with release. He collapsed and they lay gasping and spent, their sweat mingling, their bodies totally one.

  Catey wrapped her arms tighter around him, needing to feel safe. Nothing in her life had prepared her for choosing between lust and love.

  Chapter Five

  Jess lay on his back, Catey snuggled close, his arm cradling her. “You want to tell me why you’d do a foolish thing like that?” His tone was hard—he couldn’t help it. Why would she try to run away when she knew the risk was far greater than staying under his protection?

  Catey shifted and rolled away from him, pushing her dark frizzing hair back from her moist face. “I…” She hesitated. What could she say? “I guess I was frightened,” she finished lamely.

  “Frightened? Do you know you nearly got yourself killed?” Jess raised himself on one elbow and tried to look into her eyes. She lowered her lashes, hiding the guilt. “Where did you think you could run to?” he persisted.

  “I didn’t think about it,” she said, “I just saw the moonlight and… Well, I had to try.”

  He made a sound of disgust and threw himself onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He felt betrayed and he hated the feeling. He thought they’d formed an alliance of sorts but he was wrong. She was only giving in to him to survive.

  As though she could sense his confusion, she reached out a hand and laid it gently on the taut muscles of his stomach. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to put you in such a position. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Jess sighed. “Neither do I,” he said. His voice was resigned.

  Catey felt guilt well up inside like a festering sore. She owed her life to this man—he’d saved her from rape and death on more than one occasion. She wished there were some way she could convince him she hadn’t been running away. But the only way to do so would be to expose Emery and John and she simply couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  He didn’t reply. Instead he rolled onto his side, his back to her. She knew her apology was useless. Why should he believe her? She lay there trying to make sense of everything until total exhaustion took its toll and she drifted into a sleep filled with dark shadows and vague anxiety.

  * * * * *

  Catey woke to the sound of riders arriving. Below the bedroom window, she could hear snorts and stamping of horses and the jangle of harness. Early sunlight filled the room. She sat up abruptly. Jess was gone and with him her security.

  She rose and dressed quickly, moving to see what all the ruckus was about.

  There were about fifteen men and horses—soldiers, in tattered Yankee uniforms. She spotted Leroy Clemens immediately. He was obviously in charge, dismounting and tossing his reins to a younger man. Still mounted on the back of his horse was a black girl. Catey frowned, recognizing Sally, one of the slaves from Pine Ridge. Clemens reached up and put his hand around the girl’s arm, pulling her off the horse so she fell in the dust at his feet. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her upright, yanking her head back as he whispered something in her ear. Sally nodded. Catey shivered involuntarily. This was a man who would show no compassion.

  As if feeling her eyes on him, he looked up. It was too late to duck out of sight. He’d seen her and it was obvious by his expression he wasn’t happy about it.

  Catey fell back against the dressing table, her legs shaking, sweat suddenly beading her body. She knew from the look in his eyes if Clemens had his way, she’d be dead by nightfall.

  “What you got up there?” Clemens voice was loud above the noise.

  “She’s mine.” It was Jess’ voice.

  “Oh? You don’t say! Since when do you take an interest in whores?”

  “Since now.” Jess’ voice was calm but there was an underlying tightness. Catey strained to listen over the thudding of her heart.

  “Well, now, seems to me you need to learn to share, Granger. You ain’t gonna deny your superior officer a bit of the booty?”

  “Anything we confiscated here, you can have, Captain Clemens,” Jess said, “but the girl’s mine.”

  There was silence. Catey could hardly breathe as she waited, listening. This would be the deciding moment.

  She heard Clemens hack up saliva and spit. Finally he laughed. “If that’s the way it is, well, I guess I can wait,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you getting all hot under the collar.”

  “Appreciate it, Sir,” Jess’ tone was clipped.

  “Nice t’ know yer not some molly,” Clemens said even louder, so all could hear, “was beginnin’ t’ wonder since you never wanted any part of these Southern cunts before.”

  Some of the men chuckled at this. Catey could imagine how hard it would be for Jess to restrain himself.

  To his credit, however, he replied calmly. “It’s an acquired taste, I believe.”

  Clemens chortled at this. “Come on inside, Lieutenant. You can tell me what makes the bitch so special. I have a letter from your pa, here too.”

  Catey heard the jangle of spurs and thump of boots on the front porch. She rushed to the door and made sure the lock was set. Then she returned to the window, peeping out around the curtains.

  The other men were moving off on foot, leading their horses. They were going to the stables. Please, God, keep Emery and John safe! she prayed.

  * * * * *

  By the time there was a rap on the door, Catey was a bundle of nerves, pacing the room like a caged animal. Without thinking, she unlocked the door and threw it open, realizing too late Jess never knocked.

  “Miss Catherine.” It was Sally. She stood straight as an arrow, her eyes dull and shadowed.

  “Oh, Sally!” Catey threw her arms around the girl, hugging her close. But rigidity greeted her. She pulled away and looked into Sally’s face, recognizing an abyss of pent-up emotions pushed down so deep, only a vacant stare remained.

  “Come in,” Catey said and gently pulled the compliant black girl into the room, locking the door behind them. Other than the shuttered look on Sally’s face, there appeared to be no signs of injury. But Catey recognized the expression and knew the wounds that didn’t show were immensely worse than those that did.

  She led Sally to the dressing table and sat her down on the cushioned chair. There was a bowl of water for washing and she dipped in a cloth and began to wipe dust and grime gently from Sally’s face. “What has he done to yo
u?” Catey asked, mostly to herself.

  Sally allowed Catey’s ministrations but her eyelids flickered and she began to relax slightly. Finally she put up a hand and touched Catey’s wrist. “You don’ need to be frettin’ over me, miss,” she said. “Looks t’ me like you’se the one needin’ tendin’ to.”

  Catey glanced in the mirror and saw the blotchy, swollen bruise that still covered her jaw and cheek. “I’m okay,” she said.

  The two girls looked at each other, Sally’s hand still holding Catey’s wrist, the gentle touch of another female and the irony of their words causing them to smile, then chuckle. And finally, they were in each other’s arms, letting hot tears fall silently.

  “We’re alive,” Catey said, sniffing. “That’s something.”

  Sally nodded, then pulled away, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I’ll be okay as long as he needs my med’cine,” she said.

  Catey’s eyebrows rose. “So… He’s ill?”

  Sally shrugged. “Yes’m but not sick enough. I ain’t gonna let him get too much better, though. What about you, missy?”

  Catey pulled her hair back from her face and shrugged. “Jess won’t let them hurt me. This…” she indicated her bruise, “is just to let the others know I’m not available.”

  Sally nodded. “We’s alive, Miss Catherine. We’s tough.” She smiled, her white teeth against her mocha skin making Catey realize how very pretty she was. But the smile didn’t quite reach Sally’s eyes. It was a smile of grim determination.

  Catey had more immediate worries. “Sally. You said you know medicine? What do you know about removing a bullet from someone’s shoulder?”

  It was Sally’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “Missy, I knows some things but what you talkin’ about? Who’s shoulder?”

  Catey pulled Sally over to the bed sitting close so she could speak softly.

  “It’s Emery,” she said. “He’s wounded. Big John’s hiding him in a room off the loft in the stables. I‑I don’t know what to do. Em’s pretty sick with fever…the bullet’s still in his shoulder.”