Jennifer Wilde

by Marietta Love Me

  We had come at least a mile, perhaps a mile and a half, and the danger was real, all around us. The very air seemed to vibrate with it. I finally caught my breath and wiped perspiration from my forehead and looked back at the twisting, vine-draped trees behind us, expecting to see a band of naked savages come racing toward us at any moment. Em sighed, some of the color returning to her cheeks. She brushed flecks of dry leaf from her blue skirt and looked up at me with worried hazel eyes. Both of us were remembering the stories we had heard about the Karankawas.

  "Thing to do is stay calm," Randolph was saying. "We got a head start on 'em. We need to press on, find a good place to camp tor the night where we can build a barricade,"

  "You're right," Jeremy agreed.

  "One of us ought to go on ahead, scout the area, find the right spot."

  Jeremy nodded, straightening up, clutching his rifle with 'steady hands, a determined set to his jaw. His face might have been carved from granite, hard and grim, his eyes so dark a blue they seemed almost blue-black. Weak late-afternoon sunlight streamed through the treetops in dusty yellow shafts like wavering, ghostly lingers reaching down to gather us up, Jeremy gazed at one of them, frowning. His wavy brown hair was damp with sweat. The red-orange bandana was wet, his fringed buckskin jacket soiled with dirt.

  "I'll go," he said.

  Randolph shook his head. "No, lad, the others need you here. Besides, I'm better at tindin' campsites, always was. I'll go on, scout around some, pick out a place."

  "I'd rather go myself, Randy."

  "Hate to admit this, lad, but—hell, I might as well confess it. You're a much better shot than I am. If anything were to happen, you'd be able to do much better shootin', be much better protection for the women, I'm goin' now, ain't gonna argue about it."

  "We'll rest for a few minutes, Randy, then move on. As soon as you find a likely spot, circle back,"

  Randolph took a canteen from Hurley, crammed an extra pistol in his waistband and hurried on, soon disappearing in the trees. There was a long silence followed by the cry of some wild creature in the distance. Em sighed and stood up and, taking the canteens from Hurley, began to distribute them. All of us drank sparingly, knowing instinctively that the water might have to last for some time. Hurley collected the canteens and slung them back over his shoulder. Bobby Roberts, sitting with his back propped against a tree, pulled out his knife and began to whittle idly at a stick.

  "Ten minutes," Jeremy told us. "No longer."

  He walked several paces back the way we had come and stood guard, his rifle cocked, his back to us. Corrie, calm and efficient, began to gather berries from a bush nearby, putting them into a large white cotton bag she took from her pocket.

  Chris examined his rifle carefully and then checked his pistol, while Frank Marshall watched the treetops with a deceptively casual air, studying the shadowy branches, his finger on the trigger of his pistol. Em, too nervous to rest, went over to help Corrie gather berries.

  I hesitated a few moments and then brushed my hair back and went over to stand beside Jeremy. He glanced at me and then resumed his watch, his profile stern. Ahead was the shadowy green tunnel through which we had come, the trees thick on either side, leafy, low-hanging limbs making a canopy above. Very little sunlight penetrated the gloom, Birds twittered. The sounds seemed to echo, corning from every side. A bluejay swooped down, grabbed a twig in its beak and flew back into the trees. A twig snapped. Jeremy stiffened, alert, aiming his rifle in the direction of the sound. When nothing happened, he relaxed a little, ignoring me.

  "I want you to give me a pistol," I said calmly.

  "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "I'm a very good shot, Jeremy."

  "Are you indeed?" he inquired.

  "I can handle a pistol as well as any man."

  He hesitated, then pulled the extra pistol from his waistband and handed it to me. It was long and heavy with a smooth, polished butt and a sleek barrel. I tested its weight in my hand, finding the right balance, aiming it at a branch with my finger curled lightly around the trigger. He watched with an impassive face.

  "If they come, Marietta," he said, "if they overpower us, I want you to use it on yourself."

  "Jeremy—"

  "I don't imagine it'll happen," he continued quickly. "They may attack, probably will, but once they taste the bite of our bullets they'll undoubtedly fall back. We've got plenty of guns, plenty of ammunition."

  "Jeremy—" I repeated.

  He looked at me, and words failed me. There was so much I wanted to say, so very much, and I realized, quite calmly, that I might never have another opportunity. I wanted to ask his forgiveness. I wanted to express my gratitude. I wanted to express all the other things inside, and I couldn't say anything at all, I could only look at that stern, worried face with a terrible ache in my heart. Before this day was over one or both of us might be dead, and the words wouldn't come.

  I lowered my eyes, gazing at the pistol, and Jeremy took a deep breath, knowing, understanding. He placed his hand on my arm, and I looked up into those blue, blue eyes. The tension between us evaporated, and we were closer at that moment than we had ever been before. Words weren't necessary. I should have known that. This man seemed to know my every mood, my every thought; seemed to sense every, emotion inside me, understanding instinctively, understanding more than I understood myself.

  "You'd better go back and get off your feet," he said quietly. "We'll be moving on in a few minutes."

  "I'm frightened, Jeremy."

  "Of course you are. I'm scared out of my wits."

  "If it weren't for me, you—you wouldn't be here."

  "That's quite true," he admitted.

  "I feel so guilty."

  "That's foolishness."

  "Those men who were lost—"

  "They signed on to do a job, Marietta, fully aware of the risks they'd be taking. If it hadn't been this mission, it would have been another, equally as dangerous."

  "There is so much I want to say—"

  "You will," he promised. "One day."

  I studied his lean, handsome face, the full mouth, the twisted nose, the broad, Hat cheekbones with skin so taut across them. His rich brown hair was damp with perspiration, wisps of it sticking to his brow and temples. I lifted my hand and smoothed it back and then ran my fingertip along the deep cleft in his chin. His blue eyes were grave. A deep frown creased his brow.

  "Go join the others, Marietta," he ordered.

  His voice was harsh, and I understood the reason. This was neither the time nor the place for the feelings that had begun to surface. He was thinking of the welfare of all of us. I nodded and turned, feeling much better as I sat down under a tree. We were in grave danger, but the strain between Jeremy and I was gone, that terrible tension removed. If we got out of this, I vowed, I would make it up to him. I looked at the pistol again, calm, refusing to give in to the panic that could so easily sweep over me.

  Em came to sink down beside me, sighing heavily,

  "We picked a whole bag full of berries," she informed me. "We might be grateful for them later on. Jesus, luv, are you as scared as I am? I feel like I'm going to start shrieking any minute now."

  "You won't, though."

  "I don't imagine I will, I'll be admirably brave."

  "We have to be, Em."

  "I know. The men have enough on their minds without worrying about panicky females. I'm worried sick about Randolph. I wish he hadn't gone off like that by himself. I know it was necessary, but—"

  "He'll be all right, Randolph can take care of himself."

  "Jesus, here comes Jeremy. We're going to start moving again. The Karankawas aren't going to get us, luv. We're all going to keel over from exhaustion!"

  Jeremy set a killing pace, driving us mercilessly, and tree trunks and huge, lacy ferns seemed to fly past as we half-ran, skirting around roots, ducking to avoid low-hanging branches, wading across shallow rivers. My lungs began to burn again, the muscl
es of my legs aching furiously, but I kept on, kept up, Em beside me with a stoical expression. I gripped the pistol firmly, and the feel of it in my hand gave me a feeling of security.

  We reached another river, much wider, much deeper than the others had been, too deep to wade across. Jeremy stopped, and we clustered around him, Bobby Roberts standing in back, watching for pursuit. Hurley volunteered to go across first and discovered that the water was only shoulder high at its deepest point. He returned and scooped Bin up, his pockmarked face expressionless as he hoisted her up onto his shoulders. She clutched his hair, terrified as he started across again, almost dropping her at one point,

  Chris carried Corrie across, and, handing my pistol to Marshall, I dove in and swam across. Hurley took my hand, pulling me out of the water. Jeremy and Marshall and Roberts came after me, holding their rifles high. I wiped damp tendrils from my face and took the pistol from Marshall. We stood there for a few moments, catching our breaths, watching the opposite bank. The trees looked thick and ominous. The sun was going down, deep red-orange smears staining the horizon, dusk falling. Jeremy and the other men checked their guns. Em fanned herself. It was so warm that my dress and hair began to dry immediately.

  There was a noise behind us. The men whirled around Jeremy shoved me behind him. Em and Come were already crouching behind tree trunks, Chris in front of them. Randolph stepped around a huge shrub and strolled casually toward us, sweating profusely. He glanced at the guns leveled at his chest and grinned,

  "No need for 'em yet, lads," he said. "It's just ole Randy."

  "Did you find a spot?" Jeremy asked.

  "Sure did, 'bout a half a mile from here. There's a wide river and on the other side there's a kinda sandy clearin' juttin' out into the water, littered with dead trees. I figured we could use the trees to make a barricade—they're all fallen down, roots stickin' up in the sand."

  "Good," Jeremy said, relieved.

  "We'll have the river in front of us, thick woods behind with a barricade of dead trees makin' a kinda fort. It ain't ideal, but I reckon we could hold 'em off easily enough."

  "Half a mile, you say?"

  " 'Bout that, maybe a little more. We oughta make it by dark."

  "Let's get moving," Jeremy said, "You women get up here behind Randy and me. Chris, you and Marshall stay close behind them. Hurley and Bobby will bring up the rear."

  "I didn't see any signs of 'em up ahead," Randolph said "If they're anywhere, they'll be behind us. Anything happen while I was scoutin'?"

  Jeremy shook his head, and we continued on our way moving at a slower pace than before. The sky was taking on a light purple hue now, gradually darkening, and the air was thick with a pale violet-blue haze. Tree limbs cast long black shadows over the ground, nests of shadows thickening all around us. Hurley and Roberts lagged behind a little, turning constantly to keep an eye out on our rear. Randolph looked around at Em and grinned. She made a face at him, much too tired to summon up a smart remark. Corrie stumbled, clutching the bag of berries. I took her arm, steadying her. She smiled up at me, the corners of her mouth quivering slightly.

  She was determined to be brave, to be bright, to hide the terror I knew she must be feeling, just as I did, I smiled back at her and gave her arm a squeeze. We waded across a shallow river and wound through a thick grove of cypress trees and on into a denser, thicker woods with towering trees, trunks huge, limbs spreading in a leafy tangle overhead. Exotic plants grew around them, plants with gigantic purple-green leaves shaped like elephants' ears, spiky plants like spears. Wild ivy climbed over every surface.

  Twenty minutes passed, perhaps more. It was much darker now, colors beginning to fade, brown and yellow and a dozen shades of green melting into a dark grayish-black tinged with purple. The shadows were deep blue-black, swallowing up everything. With visibility gone, we were forced to move at an even slower pace. This worried Jeremy. He turned around to look back, and in the dim light I could see the tense lines in his face. The wilderness was dense, threatening, seemed to close in on us.

  "How much farther?" he asked brusquely.

  "We're almost there. The river's just up ahead. We'll be safe and snug behind them dead trees in less'n ten minutes."

  "I don't like this, Randy. It's too quiet."

  I noticed the silence then for the first time. Except for the sounds of our progress, the woods were still, frightfully still. No leaves rustled. No birds sang. The hum of insects had ceased. I was puzzled, growing more apprehensive by the moment. I turned to glance over my shoulder. Chris and Marshall were close behind us, Hurley several paces behind them. Bobby Roberts was lagging so far behind I could barely see him in the gloom of shadows. Holding his ritle firmly, glancing from left to right, he seemed unusually on edge, as though he sensed something.

  Em sighed and started to say something to me. At that moment a bird called out. It was a coarse, cawing sound, coming from our right. The sound seemed to go through me like a spear, causing me to start. There was another caw, from our left, then another and another until the sounds seemed to come from all around. Jeremy and Randolph exchanged looks up ahead. Behind us, Chris said something to Marshall, his voice so low I wasn't able to make out the words.

  I turned around, and I knew then, knew even before I heard the shrill, demonic yells and saw two fierce, naked giants with tattooed bodies drop from the trees and pounce on Bobby Roberts. Hurley cried out and began to fire, running toward Roberts. Roberts dropped his rifle, struggling valiantly, but they were too strong, too savage. All three of them, disappeared into the shadows and the cawing stopped, the silence far more frightening than the noise had been.

  Jeremy grabbed my arm, whirled me around, jerked his head at Em and Corrie.

  "Run!" he said tersely. "I want all three of you to run like hell! Get to the river. Get across it. Get behind those dead trees and stay down. Run. Now! And whatever you do, don't look back!"

  Twenty-Five

  We obeyed immediately, tearing ahead toward the river as the demonic yells filled the woods and gunfire exploded. Em was slightly ahead of Corrie and me, her blue skirt flying, white petticoats billowing, her long chestnut waves all atumble. We were in the middle of a shrieking, deafening nightmare, all the demons of hell loose, leaping, yelling, pursuing us. We ran, flying past trees and underbrush, the sounds not so loud now, not so deafening, the river still not in sight. I tripped, and Corrie seized my arm and kept me from falling. Em was far ahead of us.

  I saw the tree limb shaking. I saw the naked brown legs among the leaves directly in front of Em. With horror I saw the savage leap from the tree and grab her, pulling her away.

  She fought like a wildcat, kicking and scratching at the naked brown giant with tattooed chest and face, long black hair falling to his shoulders. She raked her nails across his cheek and drove her knee into his groin. He let go of her, fell back and pulled a knife, plunging it toward her.

  A bright red fountain gushed from his forehead, and he was thrown against a tree trunk with arms and legs akimbo and crashed to the ground in a heap. The pistol in my hand smoked and my arm ached from the jerk and I wasn't even aware I had fired. Em looked at me, her cheeks ashen, but we didn't hesitate. We continued to run, seeing the river now, moving even faster, splashing through the water, moving toward the sandy land that jutted out on the other side. The river was wide, deep, too, the water soon up to our thighs, our shoulders. We swam, reaching land, climbing over the fallen gray trees.

  The yells, the gunfire were in the distance now, muffled by the woods, and it was eerily peaceful here, quiet, not yet night, the sky purple, the air thick with violet-blue haze. A bird warbled nearby. The water gurgled as it moved, sloshing against the banks. All three of us were panting. None of us spoke. Em was trembling. Corrie took her in her arms and held her very tightly, and I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the rough gray bark. The bird continued to warble, Crickets chirped in the woods behind us, making a raspy music that blended with the soft slo
sh of the water.

  Several moments passed, and I finally opened my eyes and sat up, summoning all my strength, looking around. The sandy piece of land jutted out into the river, perhaps fifty yards wide, and there was water on three sides, woods along the shoreline. There were at least twelve dead trees, half-rotted, bark peeling, heavy limbs broken off and littering the sand. We could build a barricade quite easily. We could hold them off. If ... if the men joined us, we could hold them off. If the men didn't come ... I refused to think about it. I wouldn't allow myself to entertain that possibility.

  "Are you all right?" I asked Em.

  She nodded, removing Corrie's arms from around her. "I kneed that bastard good, and then—then he pulled the knife. He was going to stab me, I saw the look in his eyes. It was—it was horrible. If you hadn't fired when you did, luv, I'd have been a goner."

  "I don't even remember firing. I just—suddenly he was flying through the air and the blood was spurting and—God!"

  "I wonder how many there are?"

  "It seemed like hundreds."

  "It's true what they say about the alligator grease. The smell! I almost keeled over when I got the first whiff. He must have been six-foot-five, maybe taller, and that horrible tattoo on his face!"

  "Someone's coming," Corrie said.

  We stared across the river and saw Chris and Hurley. They splashed into the water, starting across. There was still gunfire in the distance. Marshall appeared, looking over his shoulder, and then he started across, too, holding his rifle high. The gunfire ceased. There were no more yells. Chris and Hurley joined us behind the fallen trees, and a moment later Marshall scrambled over. They began to remove the bundles strapped on their backs, Em 's tumbled to the ground, clattering. The string broke and the top burst open. A silver candlestick rolled out. She picked it up, holding it by the end as though it were a bludgeon. I stared at the line of trees on the opposite shore, waiting, holding my breath, praying the others would appear.

  "Set the guns out over here, on this piece of oilskin," Marshall ordered. "Powder. Ammunition. We got plenty. Make sure all the guns are loaded. You women know how to load a pistol, load a rifle?"