Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  Only polite curiosity showing on his features, Saber looked at him. Rising from behind his desk, Lafitte said, "I apologize. We are friends, are we not? As friends we should be able to speak our thoughts without the other taking offense. I admit I am vexed, greatly, but I do not wish us to part in anger."

  Saber's mouth lengthened into a slow, lazy smile, a twinkle glinting in his eyes. "You were angry, I was not. I merely felt it politic to let you get over your... ah... sulks before I saw you again."

  "Sulks!" Lafitte was plainly affronted by such a word being applied to himself, but then realizing Saber was right, he smiled and extended his hand. As the two shook hands he said, "I will give you a good price for your ship mon ami. How soon do you want all the final details settled?"

  Saber shrugged. "I'm not in a tearing hurry, although now that my mind is made up, I would prefer to have it finished at the earliest possible date. Shall we say within the week, the first of December? I should have also decided what to do with the good Allen by then."

  "Very well. I'm most regretful to lose you as one of my captains, but I hope I shall retain you as a good and frequent customer in the future. You will, of course, be staying with me tonight and I shall see you at dinner?"

  Saber nodded and laughed, "Always the businessman, are you not?"

  "But of course, mon ami. What else would I be?"

  Departing from Lafitte's a few minutes later, he was glad of the warmth of his greatcoat against the bite of the chill wind that blew in from the bay as he slowly walked over to the sturdy brick building that comprised the calaboose. Strange to think that this part of his life was now ending, but it had served its purpose and now he was resolved upon another path of life.

  Entering the calaboose, he discovered much to his satisfaction that Allen had arrived only moments before and was presently chained in one of the cells toward the rear of the building. The calaboose was not large, consisting of a small main room and beyond that four tiny cells—there was not much use for one on Grand Terre. Most disputes were settled by a knife or fists, and the calaboose was merely Lafitte's token of law and order. But that was not to say that the calaboose was weak or just an excuse, for it was quite sturdy.

  Allen was in the last cell, and Saber's nose wrinkled with distaste as he walked down the narrow dark passageway that led there. The stale smell of unwashed bodies and other even less pleasant odors came to his nostrils, and he wondered sardonically if his new quarters gave Allen any joy. Evidently not, judging from his haggard appearance, Saber thought, as he viewed dispassionately the man manacled to the wall before him. His clothing was torn and bloodstained; bruises discolored his face. Eyeing a new bruise, Saber asked interestedly, "Did you try to escape as they were bringing you ashore? I don't remember you being quite so untidy when last we met."

  Allen's head jerked up at Saber's words and instinctively he pulled against his chains.

  "You bastard!" he snarled, anger darkening his eyes. "What have you done with Nick?"

  "Don't you mean Nicole?"

  Allen caught his breath. "She told you?" he finally croaked incredulously.

  "Let us say I was able to . . . ah . . . discover it for myself. She was, like you, not very forthcoming."

  Allen eyed the man across from him. His own danger he took as a matter of fact, he had always known the risks. Nicole was another story. Grimly he inquired, "Where is she?"

  Saber's eyebrows rose in disdainful reproof. "Her fate is my concern."

  "Saber, listen to me!" he started earnestly, then throwing caution to the winds, he blurted out the entire story, telling far more than Nicole had. She had told Saber nothing beyond her age and first name. But Allen, his very real worry for Nicole driving all other considerations from his mind, told Saber everything: her full name, her background, everything! It was only when he faltered to a stop that he became aware of the curious stillness of the other man, and the cold, derisive smile on his lips. The smile was a mirthless one, and if Allen could have known Saber's thoughts he would have been stunned and dismayed.

  The Ashford name was well-known to Saber—he had cursed it for years. It was forever seared in his mind, associated with disgrace, dishonor, lies, and betrayal. Saber wondered at the ironic implausibility of it all, that orphaned Nicole Ashford should fall into his hands.

  "Don't you understand?" Allen demanded, breaking into his thoughts. "Nicole Ashford is from a good family. She must be returned to her home before she finds herself in worse trouble."

  Recovering himself, his expression openly skeptical, Saber asked, "Why didn't you say something earlier? It's a little late to worry about her now!"

  Allen bit his lip, unwilling to confess that he had had his own reasons or that his motives had been anything less than altruistic. Saber waited silently, unperturbed, but as Allen offered nothing further, he grew bored. When the silence became awkward, Allen demanded, "What do you intend to do?"

  Carelessly studying the nails of one finely shaped hand, Saber said coolly, "Do? I intend to do nothing. I shall find it much more amusing that way. I shall probably find it diverting to view her antics as she strives to hide the real facts from me—the real facts that you, her good friend, were so eager to impart to me."

  "Saber, hasn't a word I've said made sense to you? Are you so completely without scruple that you will ruin a young and innocent girl?"

  His gold eyes gleaming with mockery, Saber surveyed him pityingly for a moment, then said bluntly, "Yes, of course I am!"

  Allen's lips drew back in a snarl of helpless rage, but Saber only laughed and walked away from him. Stopping in the doorway to the cell, he turned and looked back at his prisoner. "Don't concern yourself with the future of young Nick," he taunted. "I intend to take her under my protection." His eyes suddenly shuttered and unreadable he murmured, "And I'm sure you know what that means."

  Furiously Allen fought against his chains. "Saber, goddamnit! Listen to me!" But the words fell on uncaring ears, for with a mocking inclination of his black head Saber had departed.

  Left alone, Allen's thoughts reverted irresistibly to Nicole. He was genuinely horrified at the thought of Nicole becoming Saber's mistress. And what of his own fate? How long would Saber hold him captive, and what did he have planned for him? Objectively he tried to view the events that had taken place, but his thoughts were erratic. Somehow Saber must have learned of their plan. Why else had he set those two sailors on him? He had known from the minute they'd entered his cabin yesterday that things had gone wrong, and like a fool he had made a desperate attempt to escape. That action alone destroyed whatever hope he may have had of bluffing his way clear. Damn Saber! How the hell had the man known when to strike? Another half hour and he and Nick would have been safely on their way. And what of Nick? Had Saber already forced himself upon her? And most importantly—where the hell was she?

  ***

  At that moment Nicole was on her way back to Grand Terre. She had awakened just about the time Saber was leaving for Grand Terre. She lay there quietly for a few minutes, still groggy from the laudanum, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings. The bed was soft and her first inclination was to snuggle down deeper into its welcoming warmth. But an unwise movement of her injured wrist jerked her painfully awake and brought the past night's disagreeable events to mind.

  Cautiously she glanced around the room and heaved a cowardly sigh of relief when she discovered Saber was gone and the room was empty. Clumsily, because of her still-aching wrist, she propped herself up with two fluffy pillows and coolly surveyed her situation.

  The worst had happened. Her masquerade had been discovered, Allen was in chains, and she herself was Saber's prisoner. She had become a woman at Saber's experienced hands and in the process acquired a damaged wrist. Her body felt stiff and bruised and she was aware of a slight discomfort between her thighs. Thank God it was over. She was alive, granted a bit torn and battered, but nonetheless whole and alert.

  The soft sound of a door opening
distracted her thoughts, and unconsciously squaring her shoulders, she watched the door being pushed wider. At the sight of Galena's round face she giggled with relief.

  Cheerfully Galena asked, "Would you like some coffee or perhaps some chocolate?"

  Nicole smiled at her, determined to act as natural as possible. "Some coffee please." She hesitated, then asked carefully, "Where is Saber?"

  Galena looked slightly puzzled. "Saber? Oh, you must mean the master! He has left on business and won't return until tomorrow or the next day. In the meantime, he left orders to make you as comfortable as possible and to see to it that you have whatever you wish."

  Rather thoughtfully Nicole regarded Galena. How much had Saber told his servants? Did they know of the real situation? And how far would they go in obeying her? Unless Saber had given orders to the contrary, there was nothing to stop her from disappearing while he was away. Well, there was just one way to find out. Abruptly she said, "I'd like a bath, some clothing, and something to eat. Please see to it, will you?"

  Galena departed and returned shortly with several garments lying across her arm. A doubtful expression on her face, she said, "The master wasn't certain if there was anything here that would fit you. These gowns, I'm afraid, might be too short."

  Nicole stiffened at the obvious implications and choked back the hot words on her lips. She smiled thinly, saying, "I'd go naked before I'd clothe myself in a gown discarded by one of his mistresses. I'll wear my own clothes."

  Galena was truly disturbed. "But you can't! Ladies don't wear breeches."

  "I doubt your master has ever had a lady here before!" Nicole spat. "Get my clothes or get me something else to wear. Surely there must be a clean shirt and pants belonging to one of the servants that I can borrow. I'm not particularly selective at this moment."

  Galena's eyes grew wide with shock, but she backed from the room and scurried down the hall. A lady wearing servant's clothing—and men's at that! Shaking her head at the strange goings-on, Galena quickly acquainted Sanderson with Nicole's request. He gave a start, but then rapidly recovering himself, provided her with a clean white shirt and gray cotton pants.

  Bathed and wearing her boy's clothing, she explored Saber's house. Unconsciously she was searching for certain items, and her eyes lit up with excitement when she discovered the gun room at the rear of the house on the first floor.

  It was a very masculine room. A few stuffed animal heads—a fox, a cougar, and a deer—were hung on one wall, and on another were some wooden-framed hunting prints. The furniture was large, comfortable, and worn. A well-stocked liquor cabinet was against one wall, but it was the sight of the gun racks that interested Nicole.

  Boldly opening the oak gun case, she rummaged through the various weapons until she found what she wanted: a razor-sharp hunting knife, a small, deadly double-barreled pistol, and some shot and powder. After much thought she concealed them in the drawer of a long, narrow satinwood table and left the room.

  She ate a hearty breakfast, discovering she was, despite last night, hungry. Life went on, she brooded, no matter what happened. But her spirits were recovering with every moment, and after finishing her meal, she brazenly borrowed an old hunting jacket, presumably belonging to Saber, and sauntered outside.

  The cold sun of late November offered little heat and there was a chilly wind in the air. Glad of the warmth of Saber's jacket, she wandered down the broad avenue of oaks that led to the river. Stopping at the edge of a long wooden-planked pier that jutted into the mud-colored waters of the Mississippi River, she contemplated her next move.

  Saber had obviously not apprised anyone of the true situation between them. The servants acted as if she were a guest, a slightly mad guest, but a guest nonetheless. But would they obey her odd requests to the point of allowing her to demand a guide to take her to Grand Terre?

  Nicole knew she would only end up lost or wandering in circles in the swamps if she tried to leave unaided. Absently she kicked a clod of dirt into the river, her mind busy with the problem at hand. She would not wait meekly for Saber's return; her escape must be immediate.

  Turning her back on the river, Nicole strode purposefully toward the house. Meeting Sanderson in the main hall, she said carelessly, "I've decided not to wait for your master's return. I shall leave Within the hour. Please have a basket of food packed for a journey and find someone to escort me to Grand Terre. I'm sorry at the abruptness, but if I am to make the island before dark, I shall have to leave now."

  Ignoring the disapproving expression on his face, she walked to the gun room and quickly stuffed the little horde she had collected earlier into the capacious pockets of the jacket. She fled the room and soon found her way to the room she had shared with Saber. She pushed open the door and entered, relieved to find it empty. Sparing not so much as a glance at the bed where just last night Saber had made love to her so very thoroughly, she walked over to a door that led to an adjoining bedroom. The door was unlocked, and after checking to see that this room, too, was deserted, she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

  This was obviously Saber's bedroom. The massive furniture was made of dark wood, the huge bed was hung with burgundy velvet. But Nicole, not concerned with Saber's taste in furnishings, crossed the room swiftly and without hesitation rooted through his jewel box, which rested open on a large many-drawered bureau. She removed one of Saber's linen handkerchiefs and wrapped up a diamond stickpin, a fine emerald and pearl ring, and another stickpin—this one a ruby—as well as a number of other valuable trinkets. A few gold coins lay near the plundered jewel case and without scruple she scooped them up. She and Allen would need every asset that they could lay their hands on.

  Her confidence blazing, she waited impatiently for some minutes in her own room. When she decided enough time had elapsed, she walked negligently down the stairs and, assuming a bored expression, she inquired of Sanderson, "Is everything ready? I should like to leave as soon as possible."

  Before he could reply a small Negro boy, carrying a covered wicker basket nearly as large as himself, stumbled into the hallway. Glancing down at the child, Sanderson answered with reluctance, "I believe so. This is the food you requested and Jonah, who will act as your guide, is waiting at the dock." He paused, his indecision clear, but Nicole met his gaze haughtily, tilting one of her slender eyebrows as if daring him to question her actions.

  "Will that be all, madame?" he said at last. "Samuel here will escort you to the dock."

  Nicole inclined her head politely and followed the little figure with the large basket. It was all she could do to not snatch the basket from the boy and run like a wild thing to the river. Her heart was thudding in her breast, yet a satisfied grin kept tugging at her lips. Settling herself into the pirogue and watching the distance between herself and the dock widen, she couldn't control the little crow of laughter that slipped out. The young Negro piloting the craft gave her a strange look but she didn't care. She had provisions, a pistol, money, and freedom!

  CHAPTER 12

  Nicole had been right in calculating that it would be nearly dark when they arrived at the island. Consequently, she was not surprised that dusk was falling when she reached her destination. Tossing a gold coin to her guide, she grasped the wicker basket and strode nonchalantly up the beach. Once she was out of sight of the pirogue, she quickly plunged into the sparse undergrowth at the edge of the island and, hidden from view, sat down to think.

  She had escaped. She was armed and had food. The next step was to free Allen. Was he still on the ship? She hoped not! It would be virtually impossible for her to engineer his escape from La Belle Garce. By now word of her masquerade must have spread through the entire crew, making it highly unlikely that she could ever set foot on shipboard again.

  A deep sigh welled up within her. Damn! Surely life could not be this unfair. She needed Allen—needed him badly!

  Abstractedly she opened the basket, and discovering a whole baked chicken, she chewed ruminat
ively on a drumstick while studying her problem. Allen might not be on the ship. He could already be on his way to New Orleans. No, perhaps not. Allen must still be on La Belle Garce, unless Saber had returned to Grand Terre. She shivered with uneasiness, hoping desperately that Saber was nowhere within twenty miles of her. She should have questioned the servants about his destination. He could be on his way to New Orleans or—she swallowed nervously—he could be right here on the island.

  Angrily she threw down her chicken bone and stood up, wiping her hands, boylike, on the seat of her pants. She wasn't going to let him frighten her. If he was on the island, more than likely he would be with Lafitte, and as long as she stayed away from the vicinity of the mansion, she should be able to avoid him. But it still didn't solve the problem of Allen.

  From her hiding place, a little shrub-covered knoll, she had an excellent overall view of the island and the bay. Almost accidentally her gaze fell upon the small brick calaboose. She eyed it speculatively in the increasing darkness. Allen could be there. It was a slim possibility, but one worth exploring. Even if she discovered he was not there, it narrowed down the places he could be.

  Hiding the food under a shrubby bush, she left her place of concealment, cautiously creeping across the island. She made her way from tree to bush, from house to building, and finally to the calaboose. She was breathing fast and her legs were shaky when she leaned against the back wall. Twice she had seen crew members of La Belle Garce meandering drunkenly from one bawdy house to the next. She had been hidden in the shadows each time, but it pointed out the danger she ran. If she were recognized, God help her! It would be worse than anything Saber could devise.

  Recovering her breath and some of her courage, she began trying to locate Allen, stopping beneath each barred window to call his name. At the third window he answered. Relief washed over her. "Are you alone?" she whispered. "Are you safe?"

  "For God's sake, Nick, what are you doing here?" Glancing nervously at the blackened hallway down which Saber had disappeared only an hour before, Allen added, "Talk quickly. Saber might return. Are you all right?"