Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] (38 page)

“I shot him.”

“Ain’t that. He wants ya for his woman. You a-shootin’ him made him want ya all the more. I heard ’em a-talkin’. He said ya was a woman to winter with. He’s the one we got to look out for. He’s got no more feelin’ in ’im than a wild dog. He’s been in the woods so long he don’t know nothin’ except take what he wants. The other’n just wants plunder.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Rachel said quietly.

“There ain’t never gonna be no secrets a’tween us, lass.”

“What’ll we do?”

“I dunno. Israel ’n’ I could slip out ’n’ try to get the jump on ’em. But without a gun or knife . . . I’m a-thinkin’ to bargain, to stall. . . .”

“Mistah Fain, they’s a-lightin’ a fire.”

Fain pinched out the candle and went to the window. Emil had dragged dry brush to the wood-chopping stump in the center of the yard, piled on woodchips, and set it ablaze. He threw on an armload of the kindling Rachel had chopped and the fire caught, flared, and lighted the area. A fog rising from the river added a demonic glitter to the figure moving around in the glare of the flames.

Fain lowered the shutter to a mere crack as the flames shot higher and the light extended to the cabin. Rachel and Israel stood nervously behind him. Berry crouched beside the bunk where Simon lay.

Fain began to swear under his breath, and Rachel crowded in under his arm so that she could see what had caused his sudden fury. He allowed her a brief look, then closed the shutter.

“They’re a-rollin’ a barrel of gunpowder down against the wall. Ya know what that means.”

Rachel gripped Fain’s forearms. “I’d go out to him if I thought it would save you. But it wouldn’t! They won’t leave anyone alive to tell what happened. Tell us what to do, Fain.”

“Take Berry and the babe and go,” Fain said roughly. “Israel can slip out. There’s no way we can get Simon out of here. Him ’n’ me’ll stay.”

“No!” Berry and Rachel said sharply at the same moment.

Rachel flung back the shutter. “Jackson!” she yelled. The bearded woodsman stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the fire. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He hesitated, as if the question surprised him. “I’ll take ya for my woman.” He paused, then said as if reminding her, “I coulda killed ya.”

“I know that. If I come with you, can I bring my baby?”

Berry jerked on her arm. “Rachel!” she hissed. “You can’t . . .”

“Ya can bring it.”

“Give me a minute.” Rachel turned from the window, leaned against the wall, and held her hands to her stomach.

“Go, lass. Take the babe. It’s better than dyin’.” Fain took her in his arms and kissed her.

“I’m stayin’!” Berry ran sobbing to Simon.

Rachel broke free of Fain and turned to the window. “Jackson,” she called, her voice trembling. “I’m afraid to come out. I’m afraid you’ll fire my house.”

“It’ll make no never mind about no house when you’re gone from it.” There was anger in his tone.

“But I’m afraid . . . of Emil.”

“Emil won’t bother.”

“But he will. I’m afraid. Fish said he wanted me.”

The woodsman turned and looked across the fire at the English sailor. Without hesitation, he lifted his rifle and fired. The sound of the shot echoed through the foggy clearing from the river to the curtain of tall trees to the west. Emil took one long, sudden step backward, tripped on nothing, and dropped limply to the ground. The hair was gone from the top of his head. Blood and brains poured out into the dirt.

In the aftermath, Rachel stared, stunned. Her face was frozen with shock, as were those of the others behind her.

“Emil won’t bother,” Jackson said again. He dropped the empty rifle and picked up another. “I got horses. C’mon.”

“I . . . have to gather up some things.” Rachel almost choked on the words. She turned and closed the shutter. “He killed him! I was just stalling for time, and he killed him!” She buried her face in Fain’s shirt.

“Ya got rid of one of ’em, love. Get your things together ’n’ go.” His words were calm, but there was raw emotion in his shaky voice.

“Oh, Fain! Did you think I’d leave you? Faith and I will die right here with you. I’ll never leave you! I love you . . . so much!” She wound her arms around his waist.

“I want ya to live,” he protested huskily.

“Not without you!”

“Woman!” Jackson yelled.

Fain looked through the crack. Jackson, his feet spread, his rifle under his arm, stood in the same place. He could see both the door and the window. “The sonofabitch’s takin’ no chances,” Fain said. “He’s got four shots before he’s got to reload.”

“Are ya comin’, woman? If’n ya ain’t, I’m a-puttin’ a shot in the powder barrel.”

“I’m comin’,” Rachel called.

She went to the cradle, picked up her daughter, and returned to Fain. He put his arms around the two of them, took them to the far side of the room, and turned his back to the window.

Berry hovered over the sleeping Simon and kissed his face. “I love you, darlin’. I love you.” Israel came to stand beside her. She reached up and took his hand and felt it close tightly around her small one. He’ll not die standing off by himself, she thought with calm reasoning. She pulled on his hand and he knelt beside her.

“Woman!” Jackson’s dreaded voice broke a wordless run of time. He was angry, impatient. “I ain’t a-standin’ here a-bleedin’ ’n’ waitin’ on ya no more! C’mon out or I’ll blow ya up with ’em.”

There was deadly silence in the room. Berry’s mind went blank. She didn’t feel Israel trembling beside her or hear the faint groans coming from Simon when her lips found the cut on the side of his mouth and pressed hard. Time went on and on, and still they waited. Faith whimpered, Rachel shushed her, and then there was silence again.

The rap on the door came so suddenly it startled them all. Seconds later there was another rap and a voice called, “Fain? Are you in there?”

“Good God Almighty!”

“Fain? Don’t shoot. It’s Jeff.”

“Lordy!” Fain was across the room in one bound. He flung open the door. “Jeff! Good God, man . . .”

“What’s going on around here? That bastard was going to blow you to splinters with that powder. Light took care of him with a toss of his pig sticker. Will carried the powder back away from the house in case of shootin’. Whew . . . it’s hot in here. This place is like a bake oven!”

Rachel began to sob wildly.

“Is it over?” Berry asked anxiously.

“It’s over,“ Fain said wearily. “Light a candle, Israel.”

B
erry fanned Simon with the stiff brim of her sunbonnet as she listened to the talk of the men who sat at the table drinking coffee. Israel had thought to slink out of the room, but Fain had stopped him, and he now sat awkwardly on the chair that Jackson had occupied for the last two days. He had been praised by these white men. His hand had been shaken. He was a little dazed by it all, but proud, too.

Jeff and Will had returned early from their trip to Natchez. They had met with Light and a group of his Osage relatives downriver and had come on north. They had found Lardy’s body on the ferry landing. It was evident to them that the body had been carried there and left as a signal. Israel’s big, bare footprints had been easily recognizable to Light and his men, and they had lost no time in getting to Fain’s homestead.

“We heard a shot about the time we reached the edge of the timber,” Will said in his lazy drawl. “We come on in ’n’ it didn’t take much figurin’ to see who’d shot him and what he was a-goin’ to shoot at next. Light wormed his way around the freight wagons ’n’ dropped the sucker with his knife. Course, we was all set to shoot the bastard, but our rifles ain’t what you’d call downright turkey-shootin’ rifles, bein’s how they was made by a slack-handed gunsmith that we know of.”

The good-natured teasing went on, easing the tension. Every detail of the past two days was discussed. Rachel told how Israel had dug under the wall to pass her the rifle and how he had charged Linc Smith and saved Berry and Simon. She even told how he had fooled Fish and killed the crippled old rooster instead of one of her fat hens. Israel hung his head and grinned shyly.

Rachel apologized for the untidy eating room. She made more coffee. Her hand lingered on Fain’s shoulder each time she passed him.

“We found out some purely interesting facts about Edmund Aston Carwild when we stopped to talk to Zeb Pike at Kaskaskia,” Jeff said. “He’s got spies out all over now that he and Manuel Lisa are in a race to blaze a trail to the Southwest. Zeb says that Fish, as we know him, is a shirttail relation to James Wilkinson.”

“I ain’t a-thinkin’ that’d be much to be proud of,” Will said dryly.

“You know our Governor Wilkinson is a fine, upstanding man, Will,” Jeff teased.

“Humph! Damned if he ain’t! He’s got his fingers in ever’ shady thing he can get ’em in,” Will said heatedly.

“It seems that Wilkinson sent Fish up here on a mission,” Jeff explained. “At first, I thought he’d sent him away to get him out of his hair. Now we know. . . . You’re famous, Fain! You’re known all the way to New Orleans.”

“I don’t think Fish was plannin’ on sharin’ with Wilkinson. He was goin’ to skeedaddle to Europe ’n’ sell to the highest bidder,” Fain said; then with a bit of amazement in his voice he added, “You mean that bastard Wilkinson wanted my gun?”

“It would seem so,” Jeff said with a chuckle.

“I’m a long way from makin’ it safe.”

“It shore enough blew the top off Fish’s head,” Will commented dryly.

Fain laughed nervously. “I didn’t know if’n the plate I put on would hold once.” His eyes sought Rachel’s. “I sure as hell knew it’d not hold a second time. I was sweatin’ it out, I tell you.”

Light sat at the end of the table. He spoke seldom, but his dark eyes traveled from one face to the other and he listened carefully to everything that was said. Berry’s eyes turned to him often. He seemed so lonely. She wanted to say something to him, to thank him for what he’d done for them at the campground in Saint Louis and for helping them tonight, but he seemed unapproachable.

Several days passed before Berry got the opportunity to thank Light, and by that time she had another reason to be grateful to the half-breed scout.

*    *    *

Morning came.

Berry woke feeling as if she had been physically mauled. She shook her head to clear it, and winced as pinpricks of pain lanced down her neck and along her right side. She had been asleep for some time, sitting on the floor beside Simon’s bed. She tried to rise, only to discover that her right leg was useless. Grasping the edge of the bunk, she dragged herself to her knees and gritted her teeth while she waited for the blood to resume its flow to her legs.

She moved stiffly to the wash shelf, picked up the water bucket, and crossed the dogtrot to the other room. On her way she noticed that the sun had traveled one-quarter of the way across the sky. I’ve slept half the morning away! she thought. She continued on to the other room, stripped off Simon’s shirt and breeches, and washed herself. She scooped water onto her face, still bruised and swollen from the blows Fish had inflicted with his fists. At length, feeling somewhat revived, she pulled on a clean dress over her head and tied an apron around her waist. She set about trying to put her hair in order. It was such a tangled mess that the task seemed hopeless, and in the end she tied the rebellious mass at the base of her neck with one of the ribbons Simon had sent up from Saint Louis, which she had refused to accept.

Berry returned to Simon, bent to kiss his cheek, and noticed his breathing was heavier and faster. Heat radiated from his body. He moved his arms and legs continually and turned his head from side to side. He opened his eyes, made impatient, muttering noises, and closed them again.

“How do you feel, darlin’?”

There was no answer. He rolled his head away from her and continued to move his limbs spasmodically. “He’s worse, much worse!” Berry said the words aloud, although there was no one to hear them. The knowledge that he might die brought her to her feet. She held on to the end of the bunk, trying with all her strength to regain control of her nerves. When she felt quite steady on her feet, she went out into the bright sunlight to look for Rachel.

“Is Simon awake yet?” Fain called. He and Light were loading the bodies of the dead men onto a wagon bed.

“He’s worse! He’s burning with fever!” Berry’s voice carried a note of hysteria. “We’ve got to do something. He’ll die!”

“There now, lass. It cain’t be so bad. Let’s don’t borrow no trouble,” Fain said calmly. “We’ll come take a look.”

“He’s out of his head,” Berry cried. She wanted to get control of herself, but she felt as if she would melt and run all over the floor. “Isn’t there something we can do?”

“He’s hot all right,” Fain said when he felt Simon’s forehead. “What do you think, Light?”

The scout knelt beside the bed, felt Simon’s head and body, and lifted his eyelids. “He burn up soon. Get cold water from the spring and wet him down. Get some water in his mouth. I go for Nowatha. Be back three, maybe four hours.” Light turned on his heels and trotted from the room.

Berry hovered over Simon, her mind blank.

“Get a hold of yourself, lass. Your man needs ya.” Fain poured water into the washbowl and set it on a chair beside the bed. “Get to wettin’ him down like Light said. I’ll get a bucket of cold spring water for ya, then I got to drive the wagon out to where Jeff and Will are diggin’ the graves. I’ll send Rachel to ya.”

Berry sat beside Simon throughout the long afternoon, bathing his face, his chest, and his arms. Rachel kept her supplied with water from the buckets Fain brought from the spring. Will and Jeff examined Simon’s ribs, decided they were badly bruised, possibly cracked, but not broken. They lifted him onto his side so that Berry could get water into his mouth.

“Is Light bringing a doctor?”

“Nowatha’s better’n a doctor.” Will squatted beside her. “She’s Light’s aunt. They’ll be here soon. If’n Light said three or four hours, that’s what it’ll be. Ya can count on it.”