Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “You see, Alaina?” Cole breathed against her ear. “There’s still hope.”

  “Oh, Cole,” she wept against his shirtfront. “I just couldn’t go on living if anything happened to you.”

  “Hush now, my darling,” he soothed, caressing her soft hair. “Be brave. I assure you it is my last intention to let these miscreants carry out their plans for us.”

  Cole glanced around as heavy footsteps intruded upon the silence of the hall. Gunn came into view, carrying a gleaming, brass bound Winchester in his hand. His upper torso was bare, except for a brocade vest which was several sizes too small for him. It was this that sharply tweaked Cole’s memory. A bright red patch replaced the piece that had been torn from it, a piece that Cole had often handled in museful contemplation when he tried to decipher everything that he had heard that night at Briar Hill before its burning. The murderer of Lt. Cox had worn the vest then, but he had been a much smaller man than Gunn. However, Jacques was just about the right size.

  Gunn halted before the cell and stood, tipping his head from side to side as he perused Saul. He laid the rifle down well away from them and hunkered down before the black who sat half facing the gate. Saul turned as his shoulder was tapped.

  “You big man!” Gunn bobbed his head in self-agreement. “Big like Gunn.” He thumped his fist against his chest, then reached through the bars to tap Saul’s foot. Holding his hands up, he spread the fingers wide. “This many take you.” He dropped one finger until there were nine. “This many, maybe not.”

  Gunn rose to his feet and looked Saul over ponderingly, as if he debated with himself over some issue. He suddenly grasped the heavy irons of the gate, and the tendons in his bare arms corded and popped as he heaved, trying to tear the bars apart. Satisfied that he could not, he stood back and gestured to the other.

  “Gunn not break. Saul try!”

  Readily enough, Saul grasped the gate in the same spot and gave it his best attempt. But to no avail. When he gave up and moved back, Gunn laughed heartily and strode out of sight once again, content that the prisoners would remain in their cell.

  The sun had set by the time Jacques returned. Alaina had all but yielded hope that Olie would arrive with help in time to save them from the villains, and while Gunn lounged in the shadows, keeping an unconcerned eye upon them, she could not try her hand, as Roberta had done, at picking the lock, even if some implement had been available for her to use.

  Behind Jacques, two men and Gunn strode forward, leveling the bores of their Winchesters directly at the occupants. Cole and Alaina tensed in sudden worry, and Saul scrambled quickly to his feet, for he too saw the imminent threat of bloodshed.

  Tamara passed through the midst of the large-bodied men and came to unlock the cell, while Jacques stood back and watched with a twisted smirk of a smile. Tamara gestured to Alaina. “Bring the baby here.”

  Alaina clutched Glynis to her with such fervor that the child awakened and began to mewl softly. The mother’s heated glare conveyed her answer.

  Tamara stepped back and directed Gunn. “If Mrs. Latimer doesn’t do exactly as I say, shoot him.” She inclined her head toward Cole. “Just in the legs first. We don’t want to lose him too quickly.” Tamara paused for a moment, then she added almost as an afterthought, “And if Doctor Latimer makes a wrong move, shoot the girl. Same goes for the black. Shoot the girl.”

  She saw the sheer hatred in Alaina’s gaze and assured her tersely. “As you see, my dear, you’re all dispensible. I only want the babe, and if there’s one of you whom you needn’t be concerned about, it’s her. Now bring her here.”

  Alaina slowly complied and though her lips trembled with suppressed rebellion, she laid Glynis in the waiting arms. After locking the gate, the woman retreated a short distance away, then Jacques strolled leisurely forward.

  “She has what she wants.” He jerked his head toward his mother. “Now, I will take what I want.”

  Alaina stumbled back to Cole, reading that meaningful leer in the man’s visage.

  “Same rules apply, ma chérie,” he smiled smugly. “You can have your husband shot by disobeying me.”

  “You can go to hell,” Cole retorted. “I’m not about to give her over into your hands. You’ll have to shoot me first.”

  Jacques shrugged. “Then I suggest, my dear Alaina, that you have your black hold him—if you want your husband to last out the night. I’ll see him shot and the black with him, if you do not step out of your own accord.”

  A bitter, wretched sob attested to the turmoil Alaina found herself in. She knew full well that Jacques would do exactly as he threatened. The rifles were trained almost hungrily on the pair of men who occupied the cell, just waiting for a wrong move. If bending to Jacques’s will would allow Cole one more day of life, she thought then it was worth giving herself. After all, if he had a few more hours to live, he might escape entirely.

  Tremblingly she pushed herself from Cole, but when he attempted to draw her back, she avoided his grasp, spinning away from him, and threw herself behind the black.

  “Hold him, Saul!” she cried through her tears. “If you don’t want to see him killed, hold him! For God’s sake, hold him!”

  Suddenly Cole found his arms seized by the black, and though he struggled violently, he was locked in the embrace of steel.

  “Sorry, Mistah Cole.” Saul was put through an agony of his own, and he found little favor in what he had to do. “Miz Alaina say hold, and I gots to.”

  Jacques motioned Alaina forward as he opened the gate. “Now, come with me, Mrs. Latimer.”

  “No!” Cole roared, twisting and frenziedly trying to escape Saul’s grasp. “I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on her, Jacques! By God, I swear it!”

  Seeing her husband through a blur of tears, Alaina meekly obeyed Jacques, though Cole’s bellow filled the cavern.

  “Alaina! Don’t!”

  The gate was closed behind her, and the key was turned with grating finality. Saul released his prisoner, and Cole threw himself upon the door, grabbing the iron bars and shaking them violently.

  “Alaina! Alaina! My God, Alaina!”

  Steeling herself against the desperate plea she heard in his voice, Alaina glanced back at Tamara who was jostling the frightened and crying babe in her arms. The woman observed the proceedings with amusement blatantly obvious on her face. As she met Alaina’s woeful gaze, she chuckled, then with the sounds of her laughter flowing back to them, she carried the baby to a quieter portion of the cave, out of sight, but surely not out of mind.

  The iron gate clanked noisily as Cole shook it, bellowing epithets at Jacques. His half brother leered back at him and motioned the guards away.

  “You may go. He can’t get loose, and I can order you back quickly enough if there’s a need. But there won’t be. Will there, Mrs. Latimer?”

  He presented the question to Alaina who stood gazing down at the floor. Tears spilled down her cheeks, falling and making wet spots on her gown. She could hear the savage, agonized snarling of her husband as he jerked and rattled the gate. If one, by dint of will, could open the iron portal, then surely it would have been him, for at the moment, he was like a beast gone mad.

  Jacques caught her arm roughly, bringing her lithe form tightly against him. Grabbing her hair at the nape of her neck, he forced her head back until their eyes clashed.

  “I hate you, Jacques DuBonné,” she gritted between clenched teeth. “Whatever you do to me, remember that it’s only because you threaten Cole that I yield at all. I have not changed my opinion of you. You’re still a little pest of a man.”

  Eyes flaring, Jacques drew back an arm and slapped her across the face with enough force to send her reeling had he not held her with his other hand.

  “Damn you, bastard!” Cole shouted in high fury, and the air fairly crackled with his rage.

  Dazed, Alaina slowly straightened, tasting blood in her mouth. Jacques jerked her arm, his fingers biting into her soft flesh, and yank
ed her along behind him until they reached a small room formed in the interior of the cave. A dim lantern hung from the stone wall, and a pallet had been thrown upon the floor. Jacques swung her upon it and sneered as he began to loosen his cravat.

  “Take off your clothes and spread yourself for my pleasure, Mrs. Latimer. My hour of revenge has come.’

  The maddened strength of the beast increased, and Cole’s arm bulged as he strained at the bars. For a moment, Saul watched in awe, amazed by the ferocity of the man. The doctor’s face was contorted with rage and sheer, visible determination. Looking on, Saul could only come to the conclusion that if this was what it took to move heaven and earth and bend it beneath one’s will, then a little help might hasten the matter along.

  Saul threw himself into the task wholeheartedly, adding his strength to Cole’s. He had seen the bars give a little when Gunn had tried them. Perhaps there was hope after all.

  Saul’s bare arms knotted into great strands of muscle which stood out like knots on a tree trunk. The metal groaned and seemed to give away a bit, and they both took heart, each firming their grip and trying harder, straining, heaving, corded veins bulging, and faces twisted in weird grimaces. Beneath their combined effort, the rod bent with a rasping moan, then suddenly snapped, sending both men almost sprawling. Cole was at the door immediately, wiggling his lean frame through the widened hole. If Saul could not follow, then he would return for him—after he found Alaina.

  An almost silent hiss came from the wooden door, drawing Cole’s wary but immediate attention as the slight, small form of Mindy stepped into the light. She was carrying Cole’s Remington.

  Cole was beside her in an instant, demanding in a whisper, “Where is Olie?”

  “Riber. Gone ’round cliff onto riber. Many man come from cave. Olie, Peter, all men from house, Brag, sheriff—fight them.”

  Cole tossed the pistol through the bars to Saul and ran into the shadows where he had seen Jacques take Alaina. As much as he could understand from Mindy’s muddled speech, Olie, Braegar, the sheriff, and the men from the house had gone by way of the river to gain entrance to the cave, but somewhere along the way had been met by Jacques’s men. The outcome of that confrontation was yet unclear, but none in the cave seemed aware of the attack.

  He ran like a cat through the night, as swiftly and as dangerously as one from the wilds of Africa, driven on by the torturing vision of Alaina struggling in Jacques’s arms.

  A weak light shone from up ahead, and he was spurred on as he heard the rending of cloth and Alaina’s muffed cries. The sound sent cold, merciless fury charging through every pore in his body, and he hardly cleared the corner of the tiny room, barely saw his wife straining away from Jacques’s kisses, before he threw himself at the half naked man who, on seeing him, gave a cry of dismay and stumbled back. But Jacques was unable to avoid the forceful assault of the enraged beast who had appeared out of the blackness.

  Shivering and sobbing in relief, Alaina clutched the separated parts of her chemise together as she pressed against the stone wall in an effort to escape the frenzied thrashing of the men who were locked in mortal combat. Jacques’s face was a twisted mask of hatred, and his foul, whiskey-laden breath slashed in and out between yellow, gritted teeth. He was small and wiry, but he had the strength of his insane rage combined with the fear that he might be thwarted again. Then, Cole’s fist slammed into his jaw, and Jacques sagged limp, frustrating the doctor’s desire for further castigation of the man. But as he flung Jacques off with a snarl of disgust, there suddenly came a shot from the part of the cavern where they had been earlier imprisoned, and Cole, realizing that Saul was in trouble, caught Alaina’s arm as she was yanking it through the sleeve of her gown and pulled her with him. He ran back through the darkened tunnel. Alaina managed to close her bodice over her meagerly clad bosom as her feet flew beside his. There was no assurance of what awaited them, and she was determined to retain a bit of her modesty.

  As they entered the main gate, they skidded to a halt, finding Saul standing off the two white men as well as Gunn and Tamara with the still smoking Remington.

  “You fool!” Tamara shrieked. “There’s three men here with guns. You’ll never escape!”

  “Well, ah gots dis heah gun dat maybe can take a couple o’ you wid me. Maybe you first, ma’m, if’n yo’ don’t bring dat chile to its mama.”

  Tamara faltered in indecision and glared at Alaina.

  Saul crooked a large finger at her. “Com’on. Dat’s Miz Alaina’s chile, and she wants it.”

  “This is only temporary,” Tamara stated when she handed the child over to Alaina. “I’ll have her back before the night is done.”

  “Over my dead body,” Alaina replied with finality.

  “Saul!”

  The bellow echoed in the cave, drawing everyone’s notice to the massive bulk of Gunn who strode forward, his arms raised in a challenge. He had left the Winchester leaning against a barrel.

  “Saul! Gunn fight Saul! You win, you go free!”

  “Kill him, you fool!” Tamara shrieked. “Kill Saul! He can’t go free!”

  “No!” Gunn’s voice rang out again. He turned to his companions and warned, “Saul fight Gunn! Alone! Anyone come, Gunn break!” The twisting motion of his huge hands was aptly graphic.

  Saul tossed the pistol to Cole, and as it came around on them, the two men, who had leaped forward to seize the doctor, stumbled back in haste. Cole retreated, keeping Alaina and the babe behind him, then gave a nod to Saul when their backs were to the wall.

  The black tore off the remains of his sleeveless work shirt and cast them from him, while Gunn rent the brocade vest in two. Saul spread his hands wide. The gesture was like a signal and both men charged, coming together with a clap as their chests met. They stood toe to toe and strained in a battle of pure strength. Neither could gain the advantage, and they broke apart and began to hammer each other with blows that would have shattered the bones of lesser men, again with no apparent effect.

  Like great, black titans, glaring red-eyed with the heat of maddened battle lust, they crashed together again and became a twisting, writhing, struggling mass of muscle. They were locked shoulder to shoulder, head to head, their legs spread wide to provide traction. They took air into their lungs with wheezing gasps as they strained at each other, their backs arched. Then suddenly Saul twisted, and his right arm snaked beneath the left one of Gunn. Locking his hands above the other’s back, he levered downward. Gunn began to slip, but he would not yield. The arm bent backward and upward, farther and farther. Gunn gave a grunt of pain, and the snap of breaking bone echoed loud in the stillness.

  Gunn sank to the floor of the cave, and Saul braced himself on hand and knees, his head hanging between his arms as his chest heaved in deep gulps of air. Gunn dragged himself across the cavern to lean against the stacks of cargo, then rose to stand erect, his arm hanging at an odd angle and a dull, intent look on his face.

  Alaina turned as she heard a sound from behind them and screamed a warning to Cole. He faced the threat, as an enraged Jacques, gun in hand, came tearing from the offshoot of the cave. He dove head first at Cole, and the Remington skittered across the floor as Cole was thrown backward by the sudden assault. Saul caught it up at a run and yanked Alaina out of harm’s way as Jacques’s pistol waved toward her. Cole’s hand struck the gun up just as it fired, and the shot roused a long peal of echoes throughout the cavern. Cole caught Jacques’s wrist as the muzzle swung toward Alaina again. The two men rolled on the ground, locked together as Jacques worked the pistol with blind intent. The bullets whined and thudded, while its explosions joined into a continuous thunder. A spout of coal oil sprang from a barrel as a bullet whined through it, and a lantern was shot from its perch above it. The lamp fell crashing to the floor, and in a moment, a gush of flames roared up from the small rivulet of oil. Nearby was the menacing presence of a small keg of gunpowder.

  The gun clicked empty, and Cole released the wrist
and, now unhampered, rolled onto his back, dragging Jacques with him. His fist again met the other’s face, and the river pirate was spun away, whimpering as he clutched a broken mouth.

  Suddenly a black arm seized Jacques from behind and dragged him backward, bawling in fear. With his good arm, Gunn wrapped the man in a tight embrace and held firm, though Jacques frantically sought escape.

  “Gunn say Saul go free! Gunn never break promise! They go! We stay!”

  Jacques shrieked a reply that ended in a quick tightening of Gunn’s arm, then Jacques’s head rolled limp, and when released, his body sagged slowly to the ground, his neck obviously broken.

  Gunn gestured to Saul. “Go!”

  “Yassuh!” Saul was eager to comply.

  Cole swept the cave with a glance. He could see no sign of his stepmother, but his eye caught a new threat. The flames were working along the path of coal oil to the keg of gunpowder. He sprinted toward Alaina and Saul, shouting for them to run. As he caught up with them, he grabbed Glynis from Alaina’s arms and pulled his wife along behind him in the direction of the tunnel. Mindy had hidden herself again by the door, waiting there to make sure they got out, and had the portal open for them.

  A part of Cole’s urgency seized them, and the bruised, aching Saul could hardly match the pace of Alaina’s slim feet. Cole chanced a glance back over his shoulder and saw the fire was feeding around the bottom of the keg. He roared a warning to Saul who flung himself upon Mindy, as Cole dove for Alaina. He sheltered the small form of his daughter beneath him, pulling Alaina under him as well. Then suddenly a deafening roar and a searing blast of heat swept through the cave as the small keg exploded. Barrels, drums, bales, crates ricocheted off the stone walls, bursting and spreading their contents for the hungry flames.

  Cole ignored the searing sting of flying ash that settled on his back and, hauling the others to their feet, urged them on into the tunnel that led to Roberta’s room. Cole chose not to inform them that as the heat increased below, the draft would build, and the tunnel would become a chimney. Anything in it would be destroyed, and all too soon the house above them would just be dry tinder for the flames.