by Linda Ladd
"Please don't call them that. They're not strays. They're just children without anyone to love them. I was like that once, before I met you and Petie."
Luke reached out to take her hand. "We were lucky to find you."
Bethany smiled and leaned down to kiss him, but her mind was still on the children.
"Luke, I've been thinking-"
"Uh oh," he said, pulling her down on her back, then turning to prop his head in one hand while he looked down into her face. "How many orphans have you found?"
Bethany laughed. "None. Yet. But, I know there are more in the city who need a loving home." She hesitated as Luke's lips brushed her ear, making her momentarily lose her train of thought. She waited until he stopped.
"Eventually, even Cantigny will fill up." She looked at him, then continued in a rush. "So, I was wondering if I could have the old mill to fix up as a home for the children. Michelle is so good with them, and she could live there with them, not in dormitories, but in cozy little bedrooms with fireplaces and ruffled curtains. It would give Michelle a good way to earn her own keep. She has been uncomfortable living here on our charity, though I told her she's like part of the family."
Luke was silent, and Bethany anxiously tried to read a reaction in his eyes, with no success.
"I know you're too busy with your fur business and the cane and rice accounts and all, but I could take care of all of it, Luke, really I could. I'm a very good manager, if you'd just give me a chance, and it would provide the children with a real home instead of an orphanage. I would be willing to work hard if you'd just let me borrow enough money to rebuild the mill-"
At that, Luke sat up, impatient with her. " Borrow the money? For God's sake, Beth, you're my wife. You don't have to grovel to me like this. If you want a children's home on Cantigny, you can have it. With a hundred children, if you want."
"Just like that?" Bethany asked, amazed at his generosity. She had been prepared to use a little persuasion on him.
"It would be worth it to have a little peace and quiet in the house. I can hear those redheads yelling and laughing all the way down in my library," Luke said, though he smiled.
Bethany reached up to trace the dimpled groove in his cheek.
"Don't be so sure. Our own children will be just as distracting, and I'll expect you to pay more attention to them."
"I'd rather just concentrate on you."
"Good," Bethany murmured, meeting his kiss eagerly for several long moments. Then, as Luke's mouth left hers, she gave a secret smile. "You have about eight months or so before you'll have to divide your attention between us."
Bethany felt him tense, then, he lifted his head slowly to look at her.
"Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"
"Yes," Bethany said with a breathless smile. "Autumn will bring you a son, or a daughter, or both, if we're lucky."
She was in no way prepared for the enthusiastic hug Luke gave her or for the hoarse words he uttered against her hair.
"Why haven't you told me?"
"I wanted to be sure first."
"You're going to have to take better care of yourself. You can't carry Becky and Bobby around as you have been, you hear? Maybe, we should get in out of the sun-"
Bethany stopped his words by placing her fingers on his lips, but she was more than happy with the pleasure she read in his expression.
"I won't do anything to hurt the baby. I've wanted your child too much for that."
"And I want you, well and safe and at my side," Luke murmured, his heart warm with the news, yet feeling a peculiar terror for Bethany. Childbirth could be a terrible ordeal for a woman. He had seen them die from it too many times in the Sioux camp. Even the thought of Bethany's going through such agony made his stomach turn over.
"Promise me you'll take care," he whispered.
She smiled. "I will give you a dozen healthy babies, you'll see. Come, let's wade with the children. They hardly know you because you're always working. You'll have to stop that when our baby comes," she teased, then was up, darting down the beach.
Luke took off after her, wanting to catch her and make her slow down before she fell and hurt herself.
Chapter 21
Bethany leaned against the ornate wrought iron railing of Andrew's house on Toulouse Street, her eyes sweeping over the people gathering below her balcony for the great Fat Tuesday parade of Mardi Gras season.
She was already dressed in her costume, which Luke had commissioned Madame Josephine to make for her, and her long, crimson velvet skirt swept the iron rail as she held her black lace mantilla out of the way. She peered down the street toward Rue des Ramparts, looking for Peeto and Raffy. Both children had been in sight just moments ago where they watched a juggler tossing yellow wooden pins in the air, but now they were nowhere to be seen.
She frowned, perturbed with them. She had given them explicit instructions not to stay long since Luke was expected home soon. She moved off the balcony into the white-and-pale-green bedchamber she and Luke used when they were in town, then out a different door to the iron gallery that faced the inside piazza. The cobbled stable was deserted, indicating that Luke and Andrew had not arrived yet from Cantigny, where they had been supervising the rebuilding of the old mill. The children would move in soon, and Beth-any was more than pleased with the cheerful yellow walls and ruffled chintz curtains. No one would be lonely or frightened in those bright rooms.
Actually, Bethany would have preferred to remain at Cantigny with Tante Chloe and the children, but Luke had insisted that the family come to town for the fireworks and parades, and Bethany was pleased he wanted them with him. Except that Hugh had come as well, and she could do without his offensive presence.
She looked down over the railing to where Hugh sat on a garden bench with Michelle. They were hard to see in the gathering dusk, but much to Bethany's chagrin, she saw that Hugh was holding Michelle's hand. She frowned, wishing Michelle would stay away from Hugh like the rest of them did. The two had been spending a lot of time together, and although Hugh had stopped drinking and his behavior had been without reproach since his arrival, Bethany couldn't bring herself to trust him. She probably never would be completely at ease around him, though she understood Luke couldn't just cast him out of his house, especially when he was behaving so well. Michelle was just too kind and gentle to think ill of him. But, she hadn't known Hugh before, and Bethany and Peeto had.
"Michelle!" she called down. "Have the boys come back through the gate?"
"Non," came Michelle's soft reply, and Bethany's frown deepened as she returned to the street balcony.
Ten minutes later, as darkness began to fall, she grew even more worried. After twenty minutes, she was fully alarmed. Not willing to wait another moment, she hurried down the narrow inside staircase with its carved mahogany banister and rushed down the long, narrow front hall. As she threw her black velvet cape over her shoulders, Michelle and Hugh entered through the French doors of the courtyard.
"I'm going to look for Petie," Bethany told them, turning for the door. "I won't be long."
"Not alone!" Michelle protested in dismay. "Luke told us never to go out alone at night. It is especially dangerous during carnival, Beth, with all the crowds about!"
"I have to. Petie and Raffy should be back by now. I'm afraid something's happened to them."
Hugh stepped out to block her passage. "Luke and Andy will be back any time now. Wait for them, and we'll all search together."
Bethany hesitated, twisting the laces of her cape with nervous fingers. "But, it's getting so dark outside!" She looked toward the windows, suddenly determined to find the boys. Her chin tilted up in an obstinate fashion. "Move out of my way, Hugh. I'm worried about them, and I'm going now."
"Luke will kill me if I let you go out alone at night in your condition. At least, let me go with you."
"Frankly, I'd feel a lot safer without you along," Bethany snapped, then half regretted her harsh words a
t the disapproving look on Michelle's face. Hugh was right, and Bethany knew it. Luke would be furious with her if she went out alone among the crowds.
"All right, come with me if you must," she said, "but let's hurry. Michelle, if Luke comes, tell him we've gone up the street to look for the boys."
Michelle nodded, standing on the front stoop as Bethany stepped into the street with Hugh right behind her.
"Do you have any idea where they might have gone?" Hugh asked, peering at the revelers jostling and pushing through the narrow thoroughfare.
"They were up there near the intersection last time I saw them, but they might be at the sweetshop just around the corner. Raffy said once that the baker sells them a dozen sweet cakes for a penny."
Suddenly, sure she would find the children at the Vermeil Bakery, Bethany hurried off in that direction, leaving Hugh to follow as best he could. He quickly caught up with her, and though Bethany didn't particularly like his touching her, she let him take her elbow as he shouldered a path through the crowded street.
A short conversation with Monsieur Pierre Vermeil informed them that the two boys had been there not long before, but had crossed the street to watch the blacksmith at his forge.
"Could they have gone home a different way?" Hugh suggested when they found the smithy closed for the celebration.
Bethany shook her head, undecided about what to do next. She wished Luke was with them. He would know what to do.
"Madame! Madame!"
Bethany spun around at the scream and found Raffy sprinting toward her, his eyes huge with fear.
"Dey's gots Marster Pete! Dey's gots me, too, but I's kicked dem and gots away!"
"Who? Raffy, tell me who!" Bethany cried, grabbing the child by the shoulders. "Who's got Petie?"
"Dere's two of dem. Big white mens. Dey done taked 'em off to de graveyard yonder," Raffy cried, pointing wildly up the street. "Dey was real mean, and dey say dey's gwine to cut off'n Marster Pete's head and send it to de big marster!"
Bethany's blood ran cold. If it hadn't been for Hugh's grip on her arm, her legs would have crumpled beneath her.
"Run home, Raffy. As fast as you can," Hugh ordered, suddenly taking charge of the situation. "You, too, Beth. It's got to be the Hacketts! Maybe I can stop them before they get away with Pete!"
"No, no, I'm coming with you!" Bethany cried. "Run, Raffy, and bring back Luke and Andy. Hurry, hurry!"
Hugh was already sprinting up the banquette, ignoring the last stragglers on their way to the Place d' Armes, as he made his way to the tall, iron gates of the old Cemetery of St. Louis. Bethany rushed up just behind him, her heart in her throat.
"Pete!" Hugh shouted into a darkness lit faintly by a lamppost as he stepped inside the open gates. His voice echoed eerily along the high, whitewashed brick walls enclosing the rows of tombs, and Bethany stopped behind him, looking fearfully at the white crypts gleaming ghostly in the gloom. In her mind, she again saw Michelle's battered face after the Hacketts had held her captive, and her stomach twisted with icy horror to think of innocent Peeto in their hands.
"Petie, Petie! Where are you?" she cried in sudden panic, causing Hugh to whirl furiously on her.
"Dammit it, Beth, get back to the house where you'll be safe! I'll find him!"
"No need, boy. We's got the kid right here."
Both Bethany and Hugh jerked toward the gruff voice coming from the shadows, appalled to see Jack Hackett rise like a wraith not far away, his feet braced on a low tombstone. Braid Hackett stood a few feet behind him, one of his muscular forearms clenched tightly around Peeto's throat.
In the split second that followed, Hugh moved first, thrusting Bethany behind him as he charged at Jack Hackett. Bethany screamed as the outlaw lifted his right arm and pulled the trigger of the heavy, double-loaded flintlock pistol in his hand. Hugh lunged sideways as the bullet discharged, but he wasn't fast enough. The blast knocked him backward and he lay motionless at the base of a kneeling marble angel.
Bethany darted down an adjacent path past the crowded tombs, but Jack was quicker, despite his bulk. Her head jerked back as he caught a handful of her hair, and she screamed, falling to her knees, only to be jerked up again as Jack Hackett dragged her through the dark maze of graves.
"Stop, stop!" she cried, fighting him until his fist hit hard against the side of her head, rendering her dizzy. Rough hands clutched her, pulling her bodily atop a cold stone vault. Jack Hackett laid his gun on the slab, then held Bethany down with both hands around her throat.
"Did yer think we'd ferget ye, bitch?" he growled from between gritted teeth. "Yer the one who kilt our brother, Bucko, and yer man done broke Braid's jaw till he can't talk plain 'tall. We's been waitin' and watchin' fer a chance to git ye, and nows we's gonna see what ye think 'bout seein' yer family git kilt. How much ye think yore man'll up his reward after we's cuts up the two of youse? Randall ain't gonna like what we's gonna do to youse, that's for shore."
Bethany nearly choked from his foul breath pouring down into her face. She struggled and screamed as his dirty fingers grasped the front of her bodice, tearing it to her waist with one sharp jerk. She kicked and clawed at him as his big, grimy hands mauled her bare breasts, and he yowled in pain as she managed to gouge her fingernails into one of his eyes.
"Hep me wit' her, Braid," Jack roared in rage. As Jack's brother moved to assist, Peeto broke free, aiming his small boot in a swift arc toward Jack Hackett's head. It connected with a horrible crack, sending the big man rolling. Bethany scrambled to one side, feeling for the pistol. When she found it, she fired it blindly at Braid. The powder flashed, and Braid yelped, ducking behind the nearest tomb. Bethany grabbed Peeto's hand, sobbing with fear as they ran down the intersecting paths, feeling their way in the darkness among the cold marble crypts and shrines. They had to hide! Hide until Raffy brought Luke!
Luke paced back and forth in the narrow hallway on Toulouse Street, stopping again in front of Michelle and Andrew.
"How long have they been gone?"
"Only about fifteen minutes," Michelle answered.
"And Hugh's with her? You're sure?"
"Oui, they left together-"
Michelle was interrupted as the door burst open and Raffy fell breathlessly to his knees in front of Luke.
"Dey's got Marster Pete, dey gots him! Doze Hackett mens!"
Luke's fingers closed around the boy's arms, nearly lifting him off his feet.
"Where? Where?"
"In de graveyard! De one of St. Louis. I's told de madame and Marster Hugh. Dey's gone dere to gets him."
"Oh, God," Luke said, whirling to face Andrew. "Go for the night watch, Andy, now! I'll see if I can find them in the cemetery."
Luke hurried to retrieve his pistols from the study, checking to make sure they were loaded before he rushed out into the night. He ran up the banquette toward Ramparts Street, cursing the crowd, but as he neared the intersection where the entrance of the cemetery was located, the streets grew quiet and deserted. The cemetery's front gates stood ajar, and he kept his finger on the trigger as he edged warily through the opening.
The moon had risen enough for Luke to make out the hulking shapes of the crypts. Deep shadows crossed the adjacent rows of tombs, and he pressed his back against the wall, not underestimating the Hacketts. They were bloodthirsty, sadistic murderers, and they had his wife and son.
He froze as a low, tortured groan sounded close at hand, then inched closer until he made out the shape of a body sprawled beneath a stone angel. The man's head and shoulders were hidden in the black shadow, and with his heart in his throat, Luke knelt to turn the face into the faint moonlight.
"Hugh! Hugh, can you hear me?" he whispered, his eyes on the dark stain spreading over his brother-in-law's chest. "Where's Beth and Pete?"
Hugh groaned and his voice came hoarsely. "The Hacketts have them. Somewhere inside. You got to find them-"
"Hang on, Hugh. Andy's coming with help," Luke said softly. He
listened a moment for any sound that might lead him to Bethany, but the night was quiet except for the faraway revelry of Mardi Gras merry-makers. Luke moved stealthily along the dark path. He drew up, every muscle rigid, as Bethany's terrified scream suddenly erupted somewhere deep inside the bowels of the cemetery.
Bethany jerked away from Braid's hand before her own cry had died away. She sent her fist against his face in a quick jab, and when he yelped in pain and grabbed his nose, she thrust Peeto into the narrow space between two stone angels, where they could fit easily, but a man Braid's size could not follow. She pushed Peeto down a path on the other side of the tall angels, and they ducked behind another tomb. Her heart drumming in her chest, she hugged the child close.
"I got 'em trapped like rats, Jack, behind them angels," Braid's voice shouted not far away.
"Come on, Petie," she mouthed into the boy's ear, then bent low, creeping quietly with him around an ancient burial site. She pressed her back against a rectangular crypt that stood six feet high. It had a flat top, overgrown with grass and weeds, and she held Peeto very close as she whispered into his ear.
"Lie down on top in the weeds where they can't see you. And don't move. Promise me you won't move."
"But, what about you?" he whispered fearfully.
"If I get up there, too, they'll see us. Now, go on! I'll find somewhere else to hide."
She boosted him up as best she could, waiting for him to settle among the high weeds on top of the vault. The sound of a boot scraping against marble sent her edging quickly around the opposite side of the crypt. She squatted down in the dark, holding her breath. Slow, stalking footsteps came closer, and Bethany inched farther away, fear making her heart pound in great, hard thuds. She drew up in horror as the stomach-turning smell of rancid bear grease filled her nostrils.
Braid!
Bethany looked around frantically, praying the men wouldn't see Peeto. She had to lead them away! If she could only make it to the outside walls where the stacked oven tombs were located, then she could feel her way along the bricks to the entrance gates.
