"Perhaps there is a way to make Raven's Flight bear the responsibility for giving up the sacred disks." Red Hand mused pacing closer to where Livi stood. "He should be the one to confront Hawk Face and return the disks to the Creeks."
In a swift, rough grab Red Hand tore Little David out of Livi's arms. Feeling as if he'd torn out her heart, she lunged after him.
With a hard jab of his elbow Red Hand deflected her, giving the brave who'd been guarding Livi time to drag her away.
As if sensing the separation from his mother, Little David began to wail and Red Hand pressed his hand across the baby's mouth to silence him.
Livi jerked away from her guard and dragged at Red Hand's forearm trying to take the baby back.
Two of the warriors leaped after her and dragged Livi back. As they did, Red Hand balled his fist hit.
Pain exploded along Livi's jaw. Her head snapped back. Sparks flared and dimmed before her eyes. Her consciousness swooped away.
She was hanging between the two warriors when her head began to clear. "Please," she begged, tears coursing down her battered face. "Please don't hurt my son."
To a man, the Creeks ignored her.
"Perhaps you are right." She heard the white faced Indian say. "Perhaps it is wise to keep Ravens Flight's child until he returns the plates to us."
"But Reid doesn't have the plates!" Livi cried, her jaw throbbing as she spoke. "Captain Weems does."
Red Hand slowly turned to her, his eyes filled with enmity. "Tell Ravens Flight that he alone must return the sacred plates. He will have until the Tasahtci iako, the full spring moon, to bring the disks to us. If he does not presented them to the council, we will sacrifice his child to the Master of Breath."
"No!" Livi twisted against her captors' hold.
"Tell him we will burn his child in the sacred fire. Tell him we will roast this boy alive unless he brings the plates on the appointed day."
The Indian's eyes narrowed to slits. "Tell him it is I, Red Hand, who promises this. He will know I speak the truth."
Livi screamed as Red Hand carried Little David to his horse and mounted. She fought the braves who held her fast as he and the others rode to the edge of the woods.
When the party paused, the braves restraining her threw Livi to the ground and ran for their horses.
As they rode to join the other, Livi heard the report of a gun and turned to see Tad slumped against the cabin door with the pistol in hand.
Livi watched the Indians disappear into the trees, taking David's last and most precious child, away with them.
"Ma?" Tad moaned, easing down the steps toward her. "Who were those men? Why did they take Little David?"
Sobbing, Livi fought her way to her feet. "Creek Indians," she said as she stumbled toward the cabin. "They think David is Reid's son. They say they'll kill the baby if Reid doesn't bring the sacred disks to their village by the next full moon."
"Kill who?" Eustace gasped, hop-stepping toward them from the direction of the ridge, his rifle at the ready.
"Mama! Mama!" Cissy cried running toward her. Livi caught the child in her arms and bound her close.
"Reid doesn't—have—the disks," Tad put in. "And neither—do we."
Livi straightened slowly. "Then I suppose we'll have to get them back."
"But, Miz 'Livia," Eustace protested. "Marse Reid's not here to go after them."
"Well Eustace—" Livi took a shaky breath. "—if you'll see to the children, I'll go after the plates myself."
* * *
Reid knew there was something wrong the minute he topped the rise. Though smoke feathered up from the chimney and the door to the cabin stood open, he could smell the malevolence in the air. He could feel the squirm of an answering fear deep in his gut. Instinctively he reached for his rifle.
He guided his horse forward with his knees, past the cornfields, across the bridge. That there was no sign of Livi or the children twisted his guts. That silence lay like a pall across the clearing, raising a clamor in his blood. He had nearly reached the foot of the steps when Eustace appeared like a ghost in the cabin doorway.
"Oh, Marse Reid," Eustace greeted him, "I sure am glad to see you back!"
"What the hell is going on here?" Reid demanded as he swung out of the saddle. "Where's Livi? Where are the children?"
Eustace quietly closed the door behind him and came out onto the steps.
They're ill, Reid thought, his stomach rolling. While I was out chasing phantoms, Livi and the children have been here sick and helpless...
"I just got Tad and Cissy quiet. Sleep'll help that boy mend fast as anythin'. And poor Cissy's been cryin' ever since her mama left."
"Jesus, Eustace!" Reid exploded. "What happened? Where has Livi gone?"
"She's gone after the copper plates," Eustace explained. "The one the English soldiers took from them on the trail and the one they found here in the cabin."
"Weems?" Reid asked, his chest gone tight. "Was it Captain Weems who came?"
"Captain Weems, an English lieutenant, and four Shawnee."
"And they took the copper plate from my half of the house?"
Eustace nodded. "They tried to keep him from takin' it, Tad and Miz 'Livia did. That's how Tad got hurt. I don't know if that was worse, or findin' out they was the men who killed his pa."
Reid caught his breath. "How bad is Tad hurt?"
"He got a bump on his head, a busted arm, and he cracked a rib or two, Miz 'Livia figured."
Reid knew Tad couldn't be hurt too badly if Livi was willing to leave him.
"She didn't need to go after Weems," Reid muttered half to himself. "He would have taken the plate in any case."
Eustace nodded. "What made her go after the soldiers was the Indians."
"Indians?"
"It was them takin' Little David that set her after them."
The air left Reid's lungs as if he had been sucker-punched. "Who took Little David?"
"Creeks, she said. One called Red Hand told Miz 'Livia he'd kill that chile unless he got back them copper plates. That's why she went riding after Captain Weems and his men."
Reid stood there, trying to make sense of what Eustace was telling him.
"Miz 'Livia went after the plates herself 'cause she didn't know where you was or how soon you'd be comin' back."
They were Eustace's only words of reproach, but they flayed Reid raw.
He had taken responsibility for Livi and the children and should have been here to protect them. He shouldn't have been riding the hills and hollows, trying to follow a trail that had long since gone cold. How could he have put a dead man and his own damned guilt ahead of the welfare of the people he loved?
"Which way did Livi go?" he asked, thrusting open the door to his cabin.
Carnage greeted him. Clothes and books, firewood and utensils, skins and shot, were scattered everywhere. His mattress was slashed open and leaking cornhusks onto the floor. His sheets were ripped to ribbons, and his reading lantern crushed flat.
The room screamed of Weems's frenzied search—and of his ruthlessness. Fear clamped talons deep into Reid's chest.
Seeing and hearing what Weems had done confirmed everything he knew of the man. That he was heartless, soulless, and cruel. Livi would have been no match for a man like that. Bad things would happen if she confronted him and tried to take back the sacred plates. Judging from all this, bad things already had.
"Miz 'Livia went south," Eustace answered, joining Reid in the doorway. "She was goin' follow the English captain's tracks."
South, Reid thought.
South, toward the heart of the Creek nation. South, to where those two sacred disks could buy the British a few more months of Creek loyalty. South, where Livi's life and Little David's could be forfeit to games of politics they would never understand.
South—where everything Reid Campbell loved and everything he feared lay in wait.
"I'm going after her," Reid said, as much to hear the commitment
aloud as to advise Eustace of his plans. He waded into the destruction that of what had been his only true home and began to gather what he'd need.
Chapter 22
As the first orange spikes of rising sun probed the mouth of the cave, Weems and his men began to stir. One by one, they rolled out of their blankets, stretched and scratched, and righted their clothes. Weems's young lieutenant kicked the fire to life and added wood. The captain himself emerged from the shadows and lumbered into the trees to relieve himself.
From the hollow in the top of one of the boulders to the left of the cave, Livi took note of their activity. She had been following Weems's trail for two full days and had come upon the campsite the previous evening just at dusk. Hungry and aching, she'd watched the men build their fire and share a meal, watched them curl comfortably into their blankets' warmth. That was what Livi had been waiting for—a chance to steal into camp and take back the sacred disks. But no matter how careless Weems had been about covering his tracks, he'd been cautious enough to post a sentry.
She had waited out the night in the dampness and cold, keeping her own vigil. Beyond her worry over Tad and Cissy and her concern for Reid, Livi ached to know if her baby was safe. She needed Little David's warmth and weight against her shoulder, his tiny, perfect mouth suckling at her swollen breasts. She needed to breathe his scent and hold him close.
Watching the waxing moon track across the sky had stoked the urgency inside her. How many more nights did she have to recover the disks? Could she find Red Hand's village before the full moon rose? Livi had asked herself as she shivered and worried and waited. She'd prayed that something would happen to even the odds, but if she saw the slightest chance to recover the disks, Livi meant to take it.
The men had been astir only for a little while when the young lieutenant hefted his rifle and headed off into the woods. Not long after, the three remaining Indians gathered up the water skins and strode in the direction of the river. Livi knew that Creeks purified themselves each day by bathing. Since the braves had left together, it seemed possible that the Shawnee subscribed to the same belief.
That left Weems.
Livi drew a shaky breath and scrambled down from her perch. These were better odds when it came to recovering the disks than she had any right to expect. She cocked her pistol and stepped into the clearing.
She stood for a moment listening to the shuffle and blow of the horses and the creak of the cedars in the wind. Then she hitched up her skirts and sprinted toward the mouth of the cave.
Sunlight slanted in, illuminating a semicircle of sandy ground, a small, smokeless fire, a saddle, and two of the Indians' sleeping furs. Beyond that the cave receded into darkness.
Livi slipped inside and for several unsettling moments she could not see. Sinister it was. Dank and cold. The air hung heavy, thick with damp and malevolence.
Livi's muscles knotted as she stood with her back to the wall. If Weems was in here he ought to be able to see her, even if she was blind.
Gradually she was able to pick out the details of her surroundings—another saddle and a bedroll, more blankets and furs, an empty rifle sheath. The only sign she saw of Martin Weems was a tattered captain's coat and vest folded across a pair of saddlebags. Livi knelt beside the pile of the captain's belongings and peered around. She knew he had to be here somewhere and needed to be ready to defend herself.
But then Little David's face rose before her, and it didn't matter where Weems was. All she knew was that she had to have those plates to get her baby back.
Keeping an eye on her surroundings, Livi slipped her hand beneath the folds of Weems's red coat. His saddlebags bulged beneath her fingertips. She slipped the buckles and probed inside. The thick, rank odor of unwashed clothes assaulted her. A bag with the grainy texture of gunpowder contoured to the shape of palm. She found another of shot. She felt the shape of a well-used deck of playing cards and a loaf of bread so stale it crumbled beneath her hand. In the other saddlebag she rummaged through more clothing, found a sharp-edged gorget, a razor, a bar of soap, and a round of slimy cheese.
There were no copper disks.
Livi shoved the coat and saddlebags aside and rummaged beneath the captain's bedclothes. It was there she found the plates in their doeskin bags tucked up beneath the saddle Weems must have used as his pillow.
Slowly she eased the two bags free. The plates inside were heavier than she had expected, the bags themselves ornate and heavily fringed. Livi slipped their plaited leather straps onto her shoulder and rose to her feet.
As she did, her nerves whined in warning. Weems was here, lurking in the shadows. She could scent him the way a rabbit did a fox hunting for his dinner.
She tightened her grip on the pistol and eased toward the mouth of the cave. The medicine bags bumped against her hip as she walked. Chills rippled down her back.
She kept moving.
Then Weems was there—looming up before her, an apparition from a nightmare. He stood in his shirtsleeves, his hair hanging tangled and loose from its queue. He balanced his infantry sword lightly in his left hand.
"Well, Mistress Talbot," he said. "Imagine my surprise at finding you here."
"Indeed," Livi answered tightly. "It seems I was in the neighborhood."
"And you decided to come by for a visit. How very—sociable of you to call on such as we."
"You underestimate your attraction, Captain Weems." Livi was almost as unnerved by his pretense of civility as by her ability to answer in kind.
"You flatter me, Mistress Talbot. What could draw a woman of your obvious refinements to lodgings as humble as this?" Weems asked. "Indian antiquities, perhaps? Certain copper disks?"
Livi glared her answer.
"But then, I see you've already helped yourself to them."
"I need the disks," she told him baldly.
"A pity," Weems said. "So do I."
His implacable tone made Livi's muscles clench.
"Please, Captain Weems," she began, willing to beg. "Red Hand has taken my youngest child. He'll sacrifice my baby if I don't give him the disks by the time the full moon rises."
Weems lifted his eyebrows in mock concern. "It seems the Creeks will get their disks in either case. I, however, intend to put them to a far better use than saving your squalling brat."
"You intend to use them to buy back the Creeks' fealty to the British cause," Livi accused.
"How very perceptive, Mistress Talbot," he told her with a smile. "The Creeks need to be reminded of where their loyalties lie. They will continue their allegiance with England, or I will effect the ancient prophecy and give the disks to the Shawnee."
Weems stepped toward her.
Livi raised her gun. "If you want the disks, you'll have to risk dying to take them."
"My dear Mistress Talbot! I had nothing so theatrical in mind. I can take those disks from you any time I like."
As if to demonstrate, he raised his sword and with a flick of his wrist sliced through the thongs of the medicine bags. The doeskin bags thumped to the earth at Livi's feet.
When she made as if to retrieve them, Weems's sword point flashed to her throat.
"There, you see," Weems said with a curl of his lip. "I took the disks from you without the least unpleasantness. And unpleasantness is the very last thing I want between us."
"What do you want?"
"I think, Mistress Talbot, that you can guess. Women who frequent gentlemen's bedchambers usually can."
With a dip of his sword he nipped off the button at the neck of her jacket. Livi stepped away. He moved closer and flicked off the next. The fabric of her chemise billowed up in the vee-shaped opening. With her forearm Livi knocked his sword away.
As if in rebound, Weems closed the distance between them. He grabbed a fistful of her jacket and the length of her hair and jerked her toward him. He nestled the point of his sword at the base of her throat.
Livi jammed the barrel of her pistol against Weems's ribs.
<
br /> He threw back his head and laughed.
"My comrades and I want three things of you, Mistress Talbot. We want the disks. We want your body. And we want your hair."
As if to underline the threat, Weems's sword blade danced, slicing through Livi's long, thick braid. It dropped with a rustle to the ground at their feet.
She shoved the nose of her pistol even tighter against his ribs. "You're wrong, Captain Weems. I'm leaving here, and I'm taking the Creek disks with me."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"I intend to shoot you."
Weems gave a derisive snort. "You had the chance to shoot me the night we attacked your camp. You saw me run at your husband. You saw me strike him down. You could have killed me then, but you were afraid."
Livi quivered inside as images of that night flickered through her head... The brutality of Weems's attack, of David lying so battered and still, of an Indian—this man—standing over him.
"You didn't shoot me to save your husband," Weems taunted, "and you haven't the courage to shoot me now."
He was right. She hadn't shot him that night a year ago. She hadn't been able to shoot him to save her husband's life, but this was different. Unless she took the disks from Weems, she couldn't return the sacred plates to the Creeks. And if she didn't do that Little David would die.
They stood poised, his sword against the pulse point raging in her throat, her gun tight to the rise of his ribs.
Livi drew in her breath. "You're wrong about me, Captain Weems," she whispered looking into his eyes. "Any mother would kill to save her babies."
And she squeezed the trigger.
* * *
Reid heard the gunshots, four hollow, resonant booms that came close enough together that they couldn't have been someone hunting. At least not game.
He urged his horse to a faster pace along the narrow switchback trail at the top of the ridge. In among the trees and boulders, Reid didn't see or hear the rider approaching until it was almost too late. He hauled back on his reins and turned his horse sharply, sending it dancing into the underbrush.
The other rider never gave ground. She thundered past in a blur, riding as if the devil were at her heels.
A Place Called Home Page 34
