Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7

by Patricia Hagan

  His voice hoarse and raw, Chico told him everything. When Kurt was sure there was nothing more, he shot him one last look of hatred, then got up and walked out of the cantina.

  After galloping straight to his ranch, he threw a few supplies into his saddle bags and collected his best rifle, a shotgun, plenty of ammunition, and several canteens of water. It was a long way to Morocco and, by God, he would be going full speed all the way. He would find Kit no matter how long it took. He felt confident that the bandido was telling the truth. All he had to do now was follow the trail and hope he could get to Morocco in time to keep Kit from being sold into slavery.

  God help Galen Esmond when he found him, Kurt vowed, the taste of vengeance like blood on his tongue.

  He passed Kit’s ranch on his way to the main road and looked down on the quiet buildings. Someone was down there, moving around. Kurt saw a lone figure walking from the barn to the house. The figure went inside, and light spilled from a window. Damn, whoever he was, he was making himself right at home!

  Slowly Kurt rode down the ridge, then dismounted. Creeping stealthily towards the lighted window, he drew his gun before looking inside.

  He saw a man sitting at the kitchen table, his back to the window. His head was resting on his arms.

  Kurt crept around to the front door and found it standing open.

  He walked into the kitchen. Startled, the man looked up, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed.

  “Tanner…” he whispered hoarsely. “Thank God! I was going to ride over to your place in the morning,” Travis said.

  Kurt holstered his gun. “How the hell did you hear about Kit’s disappearance? I didn’t think she was in touch with her family.”

  “I didn’t know until I got here this morning. I went to the sheriff’s office to ask directions to her ranch, and he told me.”

  Travis stood up. “Will somebody tell me what the hell happened to my sister and my fiancée?”

  “Fiancée?” Kurt repeated. Then it dawned on him—the blond girl. He remembered her from the crossing and the inaugural ball.

  Travis told him about Kit’s letter saying that Valerie was now living with her. He had left for Spain at once. “And this is what I find,” he finished despondently. “Both of them gone. Do you know anything at all?” he asked desperately.

  Kurt nodded. “As of tonight I do. If you’ve got a horse, let’s ride.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Galen could not remember ever being so angry. There was a great roaring in his head, and he was shaking. “I am so sorry,” he said to Jaewal, as he and the eunuch, Abjar, helped him along.

  They met Hashim, who opened the door to an empty room. “Lay him on the bed. I will get him a drink,” Hashim said.

  Jaewal looked up at Galen. “I will buy her,” he declared. “I want to watch the caliph’s whip cut into her when he tames her. He will reward me for bringing such a spirited filly to his harem.”

  “Of course, of course.” Galen nodded, greatly relieved. Jaewal called to Abjar, “She deserves the caliph’s special punishment, does she not?”

  Abjar said nothing. He despised Jaewal. It had been all he could do to keep from exploding in laughter when the one with flaming hair gave him what he deserved.

  Offended that Abjar was ignoring him, Jaewal snapped contemptuously, “Pah! What do you know? If it had been you she kicked, you would not have felt it.’’

  Abjar’s blank expression did not change, but inside the volcano of hatred grew ever closer to eruption.

  “My men and I would like to be on our way, so can we talk about money?” Galen asked.

  A few moments later he triumphantly informed Kit and Valerie that he had been right—Americana women did bring top price in the slave market. Then he shook his fist at Kit. “You are lucky. That temper of yours could have ruined everything, but Jaewal says the caliph will enjoy breaking your spirit. I only wish I could be there to hear you scream when the rawhide cuts your arrogant flesh.”

  Kit shrugged, but Valerie fired back, “And we only wish we could be there to hear you beg for mercy when Kurt Tanner takes his revenge!”

  “That will not happen, because I won’t be going back to Valencia,” he said smugly. “After a few days, I am heading for Portugal to spend my fortune there. So even if Señor Tanner finds out I was responsible for his whore’s disappearance, he will never find me!”

  Galen tipped his sombrero and flashed them a satisfied grin. “Adios, muchachas,” he said, leaving them.

  “Where are they going to take us?” Valerie wailed. “Oh, Kit, no one will ever know what became of us!”

  They sat in silence, each lost in thought, until Jaewal arrived. He carried a whip, and he snapped it over Kit’s head. She glared at him with unflinching, venomous eyes. “I should cut your head off,” he growled.

  “You just paid for it, I hear,” she said with a shrug. “I guess that’s your privilege, but if you think I’m going to fall on my knees and beg for mercy, you’re wrong.”

  Jaewal s face reddened. “Hear me, infidel!” he screamed. “I will beat you myself till your skin hangs in shreds if you ever try anything like that again! You will obey me, and you will obey Abjar. Now get up. We are leaving.”

  He snapped his fingers at Abjar, who walked over woodenly to pull them to their feet. Then he led them downstairs, where Hashim stood watching fearfully. Kit gave him an imploring look, but he only stared at them silently.

  “I am not going to tie you,” Jaewal said as Abjar lifted them onto the backs of waiting horses, “because if you try to escape, I will just leave you to be auctioned here. And that, I promise you, is a fate worse than death for a woman. The men who bid on slaves know they are getting what the caliphs and sheiks will not have, so they buy them for reasons too ugly to describe. Is that not so, Abjar?”

  Abjar grunted.

  Hashim dared to whisper, “What he says is true. I have seen women kill themselves before being sold on the block. Obey him. I have heard of the caliph he serves. It is said he is not a bad man. You will fare well in his house if you do as you are told.”

  They rode on toward Tangiers. Kit wished she could tell Valerie her idea—that Abjar might be persuade to help them escape, if only to annoy Jaewal. Maybe she was wrong, but it was their only hope at the moment.

  In Tangiers, they were taken to the second floor of a building on a narrow back street. Kit had never been inside a bordello, but she immediately knew that’s what it was. Scantily clothed women lounged around smoking cigarettes and sipping tea, watching them with mild curiosity as they were shoved down a dimly lit hallway.

  At the end of the hall, a plump woman with ratlike eyes motioned them into a big room.

  “I leave them with you and Abjar,” Jaewal said, sounding relieved. “I have to buy other women, but I return tomorrow morning. Have them ready.”

  She stared at Valerie and Kit, then nodded at Abjar. “Why is he here?” she asked Jaewal.

  “The red-haired bitch is crazy. She needs watching. You might not be able to handle her, and she has cost me many dinar. I take no chance.”

  “Ha! I wish she would try something with me,” the woman said as Jaewal left. She began to circle them, her hands on her hips.

  Kit stiffened with resentment as, once again, she was being inspected like a piece of beef. Maybe she was in for a lot of pain, but, by God, she would not give up without a fight. In Spanish, she asked the woman, “Who are you?”

  “No habla,” was her curt response.

  Kit smiled to herself. The woman did not understand Spanish. She asked again in English, and got another negative answer. Kit and Valerie would be able to communicate without Rat Eyes understanding them!

  Speaking in fluent French, which the woman understood, Kit learned that her name was Anna Lebance. It was her job, she said, to make slaves ready for presentation to the caliph or sheik who bought them.

  She crossed to a small table to get a cigarette, taking a deep gulp from a g
lass of tea she’d left there. She did not offer them or Abjar anything. “What is done is done,” she said. “You would be wise to make things easy on yourself and accept your fate. You are slaves now. If you do as you are told, you will live a good life, much like royalty. You will never lack for anything, except freedom.” She shrugged. “But perhaps you will not even miss that. When the newness wears off, you will relax with the other concubines to wait your turn in the caliph’s bed. Depending on how many he has, you may not be called to please him too often.”

  She sighed, pausing to finish her tea. “Let’s get busy.”

  “Doing what? You still haven’t told us why we’re here, and we have a right to know!”

  Kit turned to stare at Valerie, surprised that she could speak French.

  “Listen, bitch…” Anna Lebance took a menacing step toward Valerie. “I don’t have to tell you anything, but you were brought here to get cleaned up for the rich son of a bitch who bought you. I’m not taking any crap from you, understand? I keep those sluts out there in line, and I can handle you little prima donnas, even without help from the big monkey.” She nodded to Abjar. He merely stared straight ahead as though he had not heard a word.

  “Now strip!” Anna growled.

  Kit began to unbutton her shirt. “Do as she says,” she whispered in English to Valerie. “Act as if you’re scared to death, so they’ll think we’re beaten. The first chance we get, we’ll run.”

  Valerie began to remove her clothes with shaking fingers. “I don’t have to act scared—I am. The thought of some fat, slimy old man pawing me any time he feels like it…” She shuddered.

  “Shut your mouths, or I will have you gagged,” Anna shrieked. “If you think there’s a way out of here, you’re wasting your time.”

  When they were naked, Anna circled them again, boldly patting their bottoms and squeezing their breasts.

  “Yes, the caliph who bought you will be delighted,” she mused aloud. “Seldom do I see such fair skin. Are you virgins? That would have brought an even higher price.”

  Anna poured herself another glass of tea before going to the door and calling for someone to fill the bathtub with hot water.

  Kit noticed that while they stood there naked, Abjar continued to stare straight ahead like a zombie. When Anna left the room to find out what was keeping the girl with the bathwater, Kit covered herself with an afghan and walked over to him. “Abjar,” she said gently in French. “You seem like a kind man, with a good heart. You can’t condone what is happening to us.”

  After a long moment, he declared, “One must accept one’s fate. It is easier that way.”

  “Abjar, please…” Kit clutched his arm in desperation. He looked at her sharply, and for an instant she thought he was going to push her away. When he did not, she dared to press on. “You’re the only chance we have! You must help us escape.”

  Hearing a sudden commotion, Kit leaped away from Abjar. Anna returned with two prostitutes who were to help with Valerie and Kit’s preparations. The girls laughed and joked as they sprayed Kit and Valerie’s hair purple. Valerie suppressed a scream when she saw herself in the mirror, and was told that this was an effect the sheiks and caliphs liked very much.

  Kit sat perfectly still as her eyebrows and eyelashes were tinted with bluish-gray crystals of galena, her eyelids powdered with lapis lazuli shadow. She and Valerie were pretending complete submission. It was their only hope.

  They were given loose-flowing trousers of transparent pink silk, fitted at the ankles with gold cuffs. Their bellies were bare above the sequined waistbands, and golden cups held their breasts. Veils were attached to their hair, but their faces were left exposed.

  Valerie watched as one of the girls put rings on her toes, shook her head dismally, sadly. Kit chanced that no one around understood English and urged, “Don’t give up. He may help us yet.” She cut her eyes toward Abjar, who maintained his zombie pose.

  “Even if he doesn’t, I still feel sorry for him. I like to think we’ll at least have a friend in that zoo.”

  When they were finally dressed and ready, Anna Lebance brought them hot mint tea and lamb pie. She told them to eat and try to rest because Jaewal would be coming for them soon.

  She started out of the room, pausing before Abjar. “I’m sure I don’t have to worry about you spoiling the ladies—in the time they have left.” She laughed cruelly as she closed the door.

  Abjar’s expression changed as soon as she was gone. No longer was he cold and impassive. An angry fire lit his eyes, and he got to his feet with steely determination. Coming over to them, he said, “I will help you. I’ll lower you out the window, but before I drop you to the ground, you must knock me out. Jaewal will cut my throat if he discovers that I let you escape.”

  “You speak English!” Kit gasped.

  “Yes,” he told her proudly. “There was once an English lady in the caliph’s harem, and she taught me to speak her language.”

  “And you heard everything we said?” Valerie cried.

  He nodded. “That is why I decided to risk my life to help you. I knew you truly felt compassion for me. Now go,” he ordered suddenly, “before Jaewal comes back.”

  They ran to the window and stared at the dark silent alley. It was not a terribly long distance down.

  “Make your way back to the innkeeper, Hashim. Tell him that if he does not help you make your way back to Gibraltar, I will kill him the next time I see him. He will believe you.”

  Kit believed him, too. She helped Valerie to go first. Then, when she was about to make her own escape, Abjar solemnly handed her a large brass candlestick. “Hit me with this. Hit me hard. Do not worry, I have a hard head.” He almost smiled.

  Kit hated to hit him, but she knew it would save him from worse. He turned around, and she brought the candlestick down as hard as she could. With a soft grunt he crumpled to the floor.

  Kit turned quickly and jumped out of the window…straight into Jaewal’s waiting arms.

  Struggling furiously, Kit peered through the milky darkness, to see someone holding Valerie, his hand over her mouth. “One of Anna’s kehbehs heard the eunuch help you escape. She wisely sold her information to me,” Jaewal said, an evil smile on his face.

  “You can’t blame Abjar—he refused to help us. I had to hit him when his back was turned. He may be dead,” Kit said.

  Her pleas were stifled by a gag. “It doesn’t matter whether he helped you or not.” Jaewal laughed. “If he lives, I will have something to hold over his head. I have always resented that he is held in high favor with my caliph. Now he will use his influence under my guidance, for his life is now in my hands. As for you two,” he continued ominously, “I made a promise, and Jaewal always keeps his promises. At the next auction on the common block, you will be sold!”

  He snapped his fingers at the men holding them. “Take them away. Whatever they bring, hold it for me until I return. I have to see to the stupid eunuch, and start back for the casbah before I have yet more trouble.”

  Kit had thought that things could get no worse, but she now knew that the misery was only beginning.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  They were taken through a maze of narrow, crowded streets in a district where the sight of two struggling women, bound and gagged, attracted little attention.

  At the end of a long, littered alley, the man dragging Kit suddenly twisted her about to hold her beneath one arm while he unlocked a door. She stared in terror at the gaping black hole beyond, wondering if they were just going to be thrown into some pit to die. Then he reached inside for a lantern, fumbled to light it, and began to pull her down a narrow, stone stairway.

  The air was cool and sour-smelling, like rotting garbage, and the farther they descended, the colder and more unpleasant it became. Behind her, in the arms of the other man, Valerie whimpered with each step.

  Rounding a sharp curve, they suddenly found themselves in a large chamber, bathed in a sickly mellow light from s
mall hanging lanterns. Kit reeled at the horrible sight before her. Women, sick and dirty, were sprawled on the stone floor. Some wore rags, others were naked. They all had blank expressions on their haggard faces, and their eyes were dull and unseeing.

  A huge rawboned woman dressed in black came out of a rear chamber. “American?” she asked the men as they dumped Kit and Valerie on the floor. “Rich blood, too. I can tell. Why are they dressed so fine?” she asked, pointing to their clothes. She yanked away Kit’s gag and asked whether she spoke French.

  With a furious glare, Kit nodded silently.

  “Then hear this!” the woman snapped, not liking the look in Kit’s eyes. “I will tolerate no trouble here. My chamber is crowded, as you can see. There has not been an auction recently, but we will have one soon. Till then, find a place to sit, and keep your mouth shut. Some of these women are crazy. If you anger them, they might try to claw your eyes out, and I will not stop them. Understood?”

  Kit just continued to glare at her and said nothing. With her golden hair streaked purple, and her eyelids a shimmering blue color, Valerie looked grotesque in the sickly light. She nodded like a puppet, and the woman seemed to see her for the first time. Taking a step closer, she observed, “You are a fragile little thing, aren’t you? Perhaps I will take pity on you as I have some of the others and give you some opium to make it easier.”

  “No!” Kit cried sharply. “Don’t give her any drugs. She’ll be fine. Just untie us, and we won’t make any trouble. I promise.”

  The woman shrugged. “Very well. Most of them beg for my favors.” She winked suggestively. “Some are willing to do anything to get them.”

  “Well, I don’t want anything from you,” Valerie said firmly. “Just leave us alone.”

  The woman laughed—a horrible, toothless sight. “Oh, I want to be there when you two are sold. Maybe the sheik who buys you will have your teeth pulled, as mine were, to make his pleasure even greater!”