Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] (32 page)

Somehow Fain managed to fill his lungs with air. “Ya can have the goddamn rifle, but I warn ya, Fish . . .”

“
Mister Carwild.
Don’t insult me by calling me that name again.”

“Ya killed Eben!” The words burst from Fain’s lips as the thought invaded his mind. “The man saved your miserable life!”

Fish laughed. “He thought he did. I swim like a . . . fish. He was useful for a while, but he was only a nigger. Eben was sly. He did a lot of snooping. I shouldn’t have been so quick. I should have taught him a lesson before I killed him.”

Fain was speechless. He shook his head numbly. “I just wouldn’t-a thought it of ya.”

Fish laughed again. “I’m a good actor. I should be, I’ve had the best training London has to offer,” he added dryly.

Fain examined the smirking face with its belligerent blue eyes. “Jesus Christ! I admit I was fooled. Take the gun and go.”

“Thank you, but I’ll wait until you finish it. I’ll give you two days. Meanwhile, one of my men will keep Rachel company in the cabin.”

Fain started forward but was stopped by the hard probe of the rifle barrel in his stomach. “If’n you scum touch ’er, I’ll . . .”

“That’ll depend on you. Oh, Israel,” Fish called. “Come here, boy.”

Israel hadn’t heard what the white men were talking about, but he saw the rifle barrel against Fain’s stomach. Something was wrong, he knew, and Fish was part of it.

“Yassuh.” Israel hid his fear behind the mask of a simpleton.

“My men and I will be here for a few days. I’ll need you to stay close in case I need you. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yassuh.”

“Do you know what will happen to you if you disobey me?”

“Nawsuh.”

“You must have helped Fain bury Eben. I cut his throat from ear to ear.” Fish whipped out a small dirk and held it against Israel’s windpipe.

“Ah . . . ah . . .” He rolled his eyes helplessly toward Fain.

“I know,” Fish said as if talking to a child. He removed the dirk. “You’ll mind me, won’t you? Now go tell Rachel she can serve the noon meal.”

“I wanta talk to my wife.” Fain angrily thrust the rifle away from him.

“Of course. We’ll both talk to her.” Fish walked beside him toward the cabin, and the man with the rifle fell in behind.

Rachel stood silently waiting in the doorway, her face white, her hands clenched together in front of her. Israel passed her without looking at her and disappeared around the corner of the house. She backed away from the doorway as the men approached.

“Stand over the kid, Jackson. If either of them makes a bad move, bash its head with your rifle butt.”

“Nooooo . . . !” Rachel screamed and ran toward the cradle. Emil grabbed her arm and jerked her to a halt.

“Get your hands off her!” Fain roared and lunged forward.

Moving swiftly, Jackson stepped between them and clubbed Fain on the side of the head with his rifle barrel. Fain staggered but didn’t fall. He swore viciously and shook his head like a maddened bull, spattering blood from his wound over the rest of his face.

“Rachel,” Fish said evenly, “unless you want me to hurt Fain or the baby, do as I say. We will be here until Fain gives me the breechloader. One of my men will stay here with you, just to make sure Fain works swiftly and diligently. And, Fain, if you had worked steadily on that rifle and completed it, I’d have taken it off your hands and none of this would be happening. Tut . . . tut . . .” He shook his head in mock dismay. “You’ve developed some sloppy work habits since you took a wife.”

“I don’t understand you,” Rachel said. “You were always such a . . . gentleman.”

“I
am
a gentleman, Rachel.” Fish grinned, picked up a cloth that lay on the work counter, and tossed it to her. “Bind up Fain’s head. I don’t want him to bleed to death. Then put the meal on the table and we’ll sit down and eat like civilized folk.”

Rachel poured water into the washbasin and wet the cloth. Her frightened heart was throbbing so violently that she was having a hard time breathing. She passed the cradle on her way to Fain and glanced down at the sleeping child. Jackson swung a chair over beside the cradle and sat down. He placed his rifle across his knees, the barrel pointed at Fain. Rachel looked into his hard black eyes and saw no mercy there.

She knew that the wound on Fain’s forehead should be stitched, and she told him so. He shook his head numbly, his eyes holding hers, trying to tell her how sorry he was that he had allowed them to get into this fix. Rachel didn’t speak. She stopped the bleeding with wet compresses and bound a strip of cloth around his head to hold them in place. Before she left him she pressed his shoulder reassuringly. Her features were composed, her hands steady.
She’d not shame him by breaking down.
She walked calmly to the door and threw the bloody water out into the yard.

Swiftly and efficiently she dished up the meat and cabbage from the kettle and took corn pone from the griddle. Not a word was spoken until she looked at her husband and nodded.

Fain made no move toward the table.

“You’d better eat, Fain,” Fish said. “You’ll be working until that gun is finished.” He carefully removed his hat and hung it on the peg beside the door, then smoothed his blond hair and straightened his ascot.

“I wanta talk to my wife.”

“That’s a reasonable request—but eat first.” Fish seemed to delight in having the upper hand.

Fain sat in his customary place at the head of the table. Fish and Emil sat on the same side. Rachel stood beside the fireplace and spooned more corn pone onto the griddle. Jackson remained sitting beside the cradle. To add to Rachel’s irritation, he spat on her clean floor.

Emil filled his bowl and slurped noisily. When he pounded his mug against the table to demand more, Rachel grabbed it angrily out of his hand. Fain scarcely touched his meal, and Fish ate his daintily.

“I take my tea with milk, Rachel,” he said as if speaking to a serving girl.

Always before it had been
Miss
Rachel or
Mrs.
MacCartney. Rachel prayed that Fain wouldn’t notice the lack of respect and make a fuss. Fish looked at her now as if he despised her. Why? It was as if he had never eaten at her table, laughed, visited, and politely offered to fetch water or firewood. But she didn’t have time to ponder this. Fain pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“I’ll speak to my wife . . .
now!
”

“Go ahead,” Fish said pleasantly. “We’ll not wake the child. Stay in the dogtrot where I can see you. Remember”—his voice hardened—“it wouldn’t bother me at all to bust the little bastard’s head.”

F
ain took Rachel’s hand and they went out the door. On the far side of the dogtrot, he turned his back to the watching eyes and pulled her in front of him.

“What’s happened to him? What does he want?” Rachel whispered urgently.

“The bastard wants my breechloader. Jesus Christ! I was blind to him. Now that I think of it, Jeff and Will had a queer feelin’ about him—they said as much.” His big hands gripped her shoulders. “I ain’t sure what he’ll do if’n I give the breechloader to him. I gotta stall, darlin’. I gotta stall ’n’ hope somethin’ happens to give me a edge.”

“Lardy should be comin’ anytime,” Rachel said hopefully. Then, as if suddenly remembering: “I’ll send Israel with some dinner for Mr. Olson.”

Fain hesitated. “He ain’t around. He might’ve took to the woods. He might’ve gone for help, but we can’t count on it.”

“Fain! Look at me. They killed him! Merciful heaven!”

Fain didn’t deny it. “If ya get a chance, get a musket out of the chest and hide it in your apron. Don’t use it less’n they’re a-forcin’ ya. Understand?”

Rachel nodded. “I’m afraid for you. Don’t lose your temper . . . please. . . .”

“Hold Faith as much as ya can. Pinch her to make her cry, if’n ya have to.” He put his lips to her ear and spoke rapidly. “Lordy, what I wouldn’t give to see Will and Jeff and Light. But there’s not much chance. Will and Jeff are in Natchez, ’n’ no tellin’ where Light is.” He bent and kissed her trembling mouth.

“You think they’ll kill us after you give them the gun, don’t you?”

“Nooo . . . There’d be no reason. . . .”

“Don’t try to keep it from me, love.” She placed her fingers on his lips. Fain refused to meet her eyes. He closed his and kissed her hard. “I don’t understand why he’d do this for one gun,” Rachel whispered and pressed her forehead to his chin.

“He’ll take it back east, register it in his name like it was his. Then he’ll get a gunsmith to make up a batch. Loadin’ c’n be done in half the time. Think what that would mean durin’ a war.”

“Fain!” Fish said sharply from the doorway. “There’s only one musket and two rifles in here.” A helpless groan escaped Fain’s throat. “Did Berry take one of the muskets?” When neither Fain nor Rachel answered him, Fish shrugged and crossed to the other room. He came out minutes later with two more rifles. He handed them to Emil, who looked them over with a greedy gleam in his eye.

“Now ’ere’s a gun, guv’nor,” he said, revealing a cockney accent. He lifted one of the guns and sighted down the barrel. His rough hands caressed the smooth stock.

Fish laughed. “There’s a dozen more in there just like it.”

“Ya bloody well hit the mark, guv’!”

“My friend Fain is cagey, Emil. They’re all without firing pins.”

“My gawd!”

“We’ll take care of that before we leave. I’m sure Fain can be . . . persuaded to give us the missing part.”

“’At ain’t all we’ll take care of, guv’!” His bloodshot, watery eyes roamed over Rachel. “She’s a foine-bodied wench. I’ve ’ad me aplenty, but I ain’t ’ad me one like ’er.”

“Ya goddamn English bastard! Ya lay a hand on my woman ’n’ I’ll strip the goddamn flesh off’n your mangy bones!” Fain almost exploded with anger.

“Give me the breechloader, Fain, and you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll keep my men under control.” Fish stuck his head through the doorway and called to Jackson, “I’m going out to the shack where Fain works. Emil will keep watch. You know what to do if there’s trouble.”

Rachel heard Faith crying. Reluctant to leave Fain, her eyes clung to his. Her heart almost broke at the helpless look she saw in their depths.

“Try not to worry. We’ll be all right,” she said, forcing her voice to be steady although her insides were a mishmash of tangled nerves and her heart was beating altogether too fast. She placed a soft kiss on Fain’s lips and left him.

Faith was crying lustily, her arms and legs waving and kicking. Jackson sat with his chair tilted back against the wall. As soon as Rachel entered the room, his black eyes squinted and he stared at her without blinking. She snatched the baby up and retreated to the far side of the room. With her back to him, she unbuttoned her dress and put the baby to her breast. Faith whimpered until her hungry little mouth found Rachel’s nipple.

“Turn ’round.”

Rachel froze on hearing the softly spoken command. She looked over her shoulder as the two front legs of the chair struck the floor.

“Sit.” He indicated the rocking chair that was scarcely three feet from where he sat. Rachel stayed where she was, hugging the small, warm body close to her. “Ain’t goin’ ta tell ya agin.”

Fear caused her legs to tremble. She snatched a cloth from the workbench and draped it over her breast and the baby’s face. With every ounce of courage she could muster, she lifted her head proudly, moved to the rocker, and sat down. A big, rough hand grabbed the cloth and jerked it away. Her face flamed, but she refused to look at him. She could feel his eyes as acutely as if they were stroking her flesh.

“I likes ta look at titties.”

The blunt words caused a crimson tide to flood her face. She lifted the baby higher, trying to shield her breast from his eyes. He reached out with the rifle barrel and prodded her arm down. She looked up in alarm. He was grinning at her. He had two front teeth missing. While she watched, he spat between the gaps. The spittle hit the floor with a splash. Rachel shivered with disgust—he was sickening!

“I nussed a squaw’s titties a few winters back when I come down with the ague. Ever since I get me a cravin’ for nussin’.”

The horror of what he was implying caused hot rage to bubble up out of Rachel. He was an animal! At that moment she decided there were things worse than death.

“You’re a filthy excuse for a man! I’ll die before I let you touch me! I’ll kill myself and my child. Then how will you force my husband to finish the gun?”

“Shee-it! I ain’t carin’ if’n that sissy little fop gets
that
gun. What’s here is more’n enough for me. I’ll nuss ya when the time’s right. Ya’ll not make no fuss, neither—if’n I hang that youngun up by its heels.”

Rachel looked into the dark abyss of his eyes, searching for some spark of human compassion. There was only animal lust and cold indifference. She opened her mouth to fling condemning words at him, then closed it. Nothing she could say would penetrate the hard shell of his conscience.

He laughed when he saw the despair written on her face, then he spat again. Her despair changed to revulsion, but she forced herself to speak with some semblence of control.

“If you’re going to eat, do it. I must clear away the nooning and start the supper meal.”

“Ya can bring it ta me. I ain’t had a sightly woman dishin’ up my vittles for a spell.”

When the baby’s small stomach was full she went back to sleep. Rachel slipped her nipple from the baby’s mouth and closed her dress almost in the same motion. The child was wet, but she couldn’t bring herself to bend over the cradle to change her with Jackson sitting so close. She had decided she would scream as loud as she could if he grabbed her. She was almost sure that Fish would come if he heard her. He wanted Fain to stay calm so that he could work on the gun.

Rachel almost breathed a sigh of relief when Fish came into the room. “If I remember right, there’s another rifle around here. Where is it?”

“I don’t know,” she replied curtly. “I’ve never concerned myself with Fain’s guns. I know nothing about them.”