Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (32 page)

Briana could hardly take it in. “Why?” she hissed at him. “I did what you asked. Now it’s time to let me go. Why should I go with you now? What more do you want of me?”

“You’re going home with me. To Monaco. But only for a little while, till everything has calmed down. It makes me nervous, knowing Travis Coltrane is in Paris. He might come looking for his daughter when he hears what happened back there, and I cannot have you running around saying the wrong things. So you are going with me. When I feel the time is right, then I will set you free, with ample money for you and Charles.”

Briana stared at him long and hard. She did not trust Gavin. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise,” she told him. “Just let us go.”

He smiled again. “I cannot do that. There’s entirely too much at stake. I also cannot wait any longer. Come along. Charles is well enough for the journey, according to his doctors. We can talk about more treatment later. Some quiet time on the south coast will do him good, you know.”

She looked at Hollister, and then back at Gavin. What else could she do except obey Gavin once more? She couldn’t take any chances with Charles’s life. Later, there might be a chance to escape. Now, she was helpless.

Forcing a smile she went to Charles and told him, “It’s all right. We’re going to Monaco for a while. You’ve missed home, haven’t you?”

Before Charles could answer, Dirk lifted him and strode quickly toward the train, Briana following close behind. Dirk and Charles disappeared inside the train, and a conductor wearing a black uniform helped Briana step up on a wooden platform. She took the conductor’s hand, then hesitated a moment before turning around to face Gavin. Her eyes were almost black with rage. “You have pushed me too far, sir. I yield to you no longer after this day.”

She entered the train.

Gavin stared after her. She was in for quite a surprise if she thought she could tell him what was what.

But something in her voice, her gaze, had been so chilling that, despite his contempt for her, Gavin actually trembled.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Briana and Charles were taken to a small private compartment on the train and locked inside. Narrow wooden benches faced each other. There was a large square window. Charles was situated so that he could view the countryside and the spectacle of the French Alps rushing toward him as the train headed south. After tucking a blanket around his knees, Briana sat down opposite him, filled with the joy of being with him.

She took his hands in hers and squeezed them gently. The train began to chug forward. “Tell me about it,” she urged him. “Tell me about the operation, and what the doctors say—everything.”

His eyes searched hers, and his lower lip quivered. “Where were you, Briana? Why weren’t you there when I was so sick? You were away for so long…” His tone was accusing, and he rushed on to cry, “And who are all those people with
Monsieur
Mason? I watched them loading big crates onto the train. They look mean. I don’t understand…so many things.”

His eyes were filled with tears, and Briana struggled to control her own emotions. Now was not the time. She lifted her chin, forced a smile, and hoped her lies were convincing.

She had fabricated a story for him, all about traveling to America with Gavin to work for him, cooking for him, to earn the money to pay Charles’s doctors in Paris.

They had, she told him, gone to America to collect money from the estate of a relative of Alaina’s who had died in the past year. “So now
Madame
deBonnett’s money problems are over,” she finished, making her voice bright and bubbly, “and so are ours.”

“But those rough-looking men—”

“Nothing to fear,” she said firmly. “They are just the guards
Monsieur
Mason hired to look after all his money.

“Now then,” she urged, “I want to hear all about
you.”

Charles tried to appear brave as he told what he remembered about the operation. He said it had not hurt too terribly much, but Briana’s heart went out to him, for she knew he had suffered…and suffered alone.

“And, Briana,” he finished with a triumphant sigh, “there’s this new doctor, Richibauld, who says he can fit me with special braces. With training, he says, maybe I can walk one day—without crutches! Isn’t that amazing?” His brown eyes were bright.

Briana’s smile was as wide as his. “Then I promise we will return to Paris as soon as possible.”

He went on to explain that the doctor had said it would take time for his spine to heal completely, and that was the reason he was confined strictly to the wheelchair for several more weeks yet. The doctors didn’t want him even attempting to use crutches.

They talked and talked. Around noon, a guard brought a basket of food—cheese, bread, apples and oranges, wine for Briana, and milk for Charles. After eating, they stretched out on the benches and gave way to the sleepiness inspired by the steady rhythm of the train as it rumbled along.

Slumber did not last long, however, for, with a loud screeching and repeated hissing of steam, sparks flying as wheels ground against the track, the train careened to a halt.

Dirk Hollister opened the compartment door to see if they were all right, explaining that the train had stopped just before plowing into a snowslide. An avalanche from the jagged mountain above had sent snow cascading down onto the tracks. It would, the trainmen predicted, take several hours to clear the way.

They passed the time by talking, both Charles and Briana having so much to say. She told him all about Nevada, the ranch, some of her happier experiences there. She talked about riding Belle out on the plains, rhapsodizing over the awesomely beautiful scenery.

She even told him a little about Colt, describing him as a friend she had met on the ranch. As she talked, she became gratefully aware that reminiscences of the happier moments helped assuage the regrets. For a little while, she was able to pretend that nothing ugly had happened. She felt warm all over speaking of Colt so tenderly, so lovingly, and she didn’t realize just how clear her innermost feelings were becoming to Charles until he interrupted her with a smile.

“Briana, I think you went to America and fell in love.”

Unable to respond, she laughed nervously, feeling foolish. “That’s ridiculous. Mr. Coltrane was a very nice man and we had some good times together, but that is all. Besides,” she said with mock superiority, “What does a ten-year-old know about love?”

Enjoying the merriment, Charles teased her. “He will write to you, and ask you to marry him, and we can both move to America and live on the ranch. Do you suppose that might happen?” His eyes were dancing, and Briana realized he wasn’t merely teasing. He liked the idea, and she couldn’t have him daydreaming over such nonsense. She would never see Colt again.

“He has someone,” she lied quickly, turning her face away lest Charles see the pain that was surely there. “He loves her very much.”

Despite the effort she was making, tears began. Charles touched gentle fingertips against her cheek. “I understand,” he whispered.

Briana prayed to God to forgive her for what she’d done to Colt, for she knew she would do it all over again to save this precious child’s life.

It was night before the tracks were cleared and the train could move. How long, Briana wondered through the black night hours as Charles slept soundly opposite her, before Gavin would finally keep his end of the bargain and allow her and Charles to go free?

They reached Lyon as the sun was rising, and took another train to Nice, arriving at night.

She woke Charles and had him bundled in blankets and ready when Artie and Biff came to carry him outside to a waiting carriage. She followed close behind, worrying that the short, slight Biff might drop Charles. The night was cold, and she shivered despite her thick woolen cape.

An entourage of two carriages and three wagons carried them and the gold bars to Monaco, to the deBonnett estate. Briana overheard Gavin telling Dirk that he was glad they were behind schedule, for their nighttime arrival meant that there would not be people around whose curiosity would be aroused by all the wagons and the six men in western American dress. Gavin had left Monaco with only Briana, but had returned with an army of gunslingers.

Charles fell asleep again before they reached the estate. Briana protested when Dirk lifted the boy from the carriage, and headed for the château. She scrambled to follow but was restrained by one of the other men as Gavin gave them instructions. Briana had assumed that she and Charles would go to their little cottage at the rear of the estate. But it appeared that they were to be lodged in the château. It was not a good sign.

She watched, Lem holding her arms, as Gavin gave orders for the wooden crates to be taken around to the rear, where a hatchway led to the wine cellar. Briana shuddered, thinking about that terrifying place. It was icy cold down there, for the catacomb-like structure had been dug out of stone, straight through the bowels of the Earth. She had hated having to go down there to fetch wine, fearing unknown dangers in those shadows. The steps leading down were long, narrow, and curving. Once, when she was a child, the burning torch she carried had been extinguished by a draft, and she was plunged into devouring darkness. She had screamed in terror, but there was no one to hear her, so she forced herself to calm down and picked her way back up the stairs, groping along the slimy walls. There were spiders down there, and countless rats. It was a memory that still tortured her, and she avoided the wretched place whenever she could.

Gavin signaled to Lem, and Briana was taken into the château with the rest of them. They were met by the sight of Alaina and Delia glaring at each other.

“Damn you, Gavin,” Alaina exploded, “I’ll not have you ignore me this way! I have waited and waited to hear how things were going, and now you just walk in with this…this woman!” she sputtered, nodding toward Delia. “Who is this creature? How dare you bring her into my home without asking my permission?”

Gavin regarded her stormily. He hated scenes, especially when other people were present. “Not now, Alaina. I am tired. I need food and wine. See to both. Bring them to my room.”

He turned toward the stairs, but female voices assailed him. Alaina screamed for answers. Delia whined.

“Take me to my brother,” Briana said to Dirk. “At once. I don’t care anything about any of this.”

The ensuing bellow from Gavin struck everyone silent. He repeated his orders for food and wine to Alaina, then told Delia to shut up. “Go to the top of the stairs and turn left. The first room on the right is yours. Wait there until you hear from me, and don’t say another word. Go!”

Delia scurried up the stairs, biting back tears of humiliation. She had come to Europe to be treated like a queen…not like a slave.

He turned to Hollister. “The cripple is no problem, but she has to be kept under guard. Lock her in the wine cellar.”

Horrified, Briana turned to run. Lem wrapped beefy arms around her, holding her hard. Struggling with all her might, she shrieked at Gavin, “You bastard! I did everything you asked me to do. Why are you doing this to me?”

Shaking his head dolefully, Gavin said, “You fool. Do you think I am so stupid as to set you free and allow you to tell the authorities—tell anyone—what we did? I realized you were falling in love with Coltrane. I knew you were getting weak, and I know human nature very well. Your kind, my dear, will keep on stewing over the past, allowing your conscience to get the best of you, until you just have to confess everything, trying to put things right.”

He sighed, mourning the idiocy of human nature. Then, signaling to Dirk, he continued up the stairs, oblivious to her shrieking.

Dirk took out a kerchief and stuffed it in Briana’s mouth as Lem held her. “I believe,” Dirk drawled, “the boss said you were going nighty-night in the cellar, sweetheart, so let’s go.”

She tried to kick him, but Dirk sidestepped away from her. He and Lem, assisted by Artie, the guard with the snakelike eyes, took her out of the château and around to the side. Dirk’s three other men were standing around, and he snapped at Biff to get a torch and lead him down into the cellar.

Thirty-seven steps took them all the way down. When they reached the bottom, Dirk set Briana’s feet on the cold, rocky floor but continued to hold her wrists together tightly. He nodded to Buff, telling him to set the torch in a holder jutting from the stone wall. Then he dismissed the guards, and Dirk and Briana were left alone.

Dirk released her, and she pulled the gag away. “You can’t leave me down here. It…it isn’t humane.”

Dirk snorted, looking around. He counted six wine kegs, and there were two walls covered in tilting shelves, with places for two hundred wine bottles, though there were not that many in stock. “Seems to me you can have yourself a good time. Just start drinking, sweetheart, and the time will go by very fast.”

“Couldn’t you just tie me somewhere upstairs? Is it necessary for me to be in this horrible place?” she cried.

Dirk shrugged. “You heard the boss give the orders. I just follow them.”

Briana clenched her fists. “You can’t leave me down here. Talk to Gavin. Tell him what it’s like down here. Tell him I promise not to make any trouble. I swear this on the graves of my parents…”

“Hell, sweetheart, I just don’t know…” He scratched his chin, pretending to consider it. Actually, he had no intention of asking Gavin to change his mind, for he was enjoying this. She was a haughty little bitch, and he liked seeing her desperate.