Patricia Potter

by Rainbow

  Of them all, Lissa had the most difficulty and they had to slow their pace to hers. She had never ridden before and she was terrified of the horse. Quinn finally dismounted and helped her down, then handed her to Cam, who placed her in front of him in the saddle.

  They stopped at midmorning to rest, and Quinn knew word was probably already spreading. The disappearance of a slave called for immediate community action since time was essential in bringing one back. Nearly every slave holder participated because one successful escape would lead to others, particularly this close to the border. Quinn couldn’t depend on the fact that Evans was misled as to purpose and destination.

  While the others rested, Quinn scouted the area and heard hoofbeats. He hurried back, and they retreated farther into the woods. Quinn decided to stay there until nightfall.

  Meredith sat with Lissa, and Quinn felt the awkwardness between them. He wondered whether Lissa regretted her decision. If she were taken back now, her situation would worsen tremendously.

  He smiled reassuringly at both and then leaned down and offered his hand to Meredith, who quickly looked at Lissa.

  “Go with him,” Lissa said, smiling faintly. “I’m tired.”

  “Try to get some sleep,” Quinn said. “We’ll leave again just after dusk. It’s going to be a long ride.”

  Meredith rose, swinging up gracefully with the strength of his hand, and they walked hand in hand past Cam, who was holding his pistol that he had kept in his saddlebags. The two men exchanged nods, and Meredith and Quinn moved outside the small clearing, through a jumble of underbrush and briers.

  But Meredith didn’t care about the scratches or the rough uneven ground. She was with Quinn, really with him for the first time in two days.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he warned.

  “Oh, but I do. And I wonder if you’d be willing to kiss this thoroughly repugnant-looking groom.”

  “You could never be repugnant.”

  “Never?” she asked wickedly, recalling some of her more unflattering hair fashions.

  “Never,” he repeated, grinning down at her, remembering.

  “You must be in love.”

  “I must, indeed,” he agreed. “For I think I’ve never seen anything quite as lovely as you at this moment.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “Completely,” he assured her, his hand circling her waist as his lips reached down and kissed hers hungrily. It had only been several days and already it seemed a lifetime had passed since mouths had touched and spoken to each other silently. Danger heightened their already enormous need for each other. Heightened and stimulated and spiced.

  His arm tightened around her. “It’s cold,” he said as he looked at the ground.

  “Is it?” she retorted teasingly.

  “Now that you mention it…”

  “In fact, it’s getting very warm.”

  “Very,” he admitted, already taking off his jacket and laying it on the ground. His arms went around her again, and both would have sworn it was a sweltering July day.

  They started riding again at dusk, staying away from the roads, traveling slowly in the thick woods. Lissa was back alone on her horse, her shoulders hunched with weariness but her eyes bright whenever they rested on Meredith, who stayed next to her.

  Quinn was often gone, moving quickly around them. He was there and then he wasn’t. He would suddenly appear and they would rein in their horses and remain still until he disappeared again and returned, giving them the signal to continue.

  Cam stayed by their side, his face impassive, his hand never far from the pistol that he now kept in his belt. When daybreak came again, they stopped, although Meredith recognized Quinn’s impatience. The Lucky Lady should be nearing Cairo, but Lissa was exhausted and Meredith could tell by Quinn’s expression that he was sighting more and more patrols. It had started to drizzle, and Quinn dared not light a fire. He and Cam tried to make a shelter out of branches, covering it with a blanket taken from the back of one of the horses.

  Quinn disappeared into the woods, and Meredith went after him, finding him leaning against a tree. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked at her. “Marshall’s already posted a reward, a huge one. I heard some men on the road talking about it. That’s why there’s so damned many of them.”

  “They didn’t believe you were headed toward Virginia?”

  “I don’t know. They might be covering every damned road, just in case.”

  “Is it wise to go back to Cairo then?”

  He sighed. “We don’t have much choice now. I don’t know the Underground stations in this area, or even if there are any. We could go straight north into Illinois, but that’s exactly where they will be looking. With the reward, every slave hunter and sheriff in both states will be looking for us, and I don’t think Lissa can last much longer on horseback. The Lucky Lady is still the best bet. We have a hidden panel in back of the boat, large enough for all of us if necessary.”

  She took his hand, feeling his tension, knowing it was more for her and Lissa than himself, and she loved him for it. He was taking so many chances for her.

  “I love you,” she said, tightening her hold on him. But he didn’t respond as he usually did. Instead, he took his hand away from her and placed it under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “If anything happens, love, promise me something.”

  “What?” she asked suspiciously, sure he was going to tell her to leave him. She was prepared to do almost anything but that.

  “There’s a woman in Cairo.” He felt her stiffen, and he smiled at the instinctive action. “If anything goes wrong, you and Lissa go to her. Tell her it’s Merry, and she’ll help you.”

  “The Underground Railroad?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But…you have to know it’s…well…it’s a…sporting house.”

  He didn’t know what reaction to expect from her, but it was definitely not the one he got.

  Her mouth widened into a broad grin at his obvious awkwardness. The rogue. The gambler. The notorious womanizer. Even in the drizzle, she could see his discomfort, and some horrid mischief-maker inside her enjoyed it. “I always wanted to see one,” she confided.

  “Meredith!”

  It was a bellow of outrage, and Meredith couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out, her eyes sparking with rascality. She thoroughly enjoyed his shock, especially as it erased the worry lines from his face. His indignation seemed so out of character, but a very, very typical masculine reaction. She’d just never associated him with most males.

  Their eyes rested on each other, and then he grinned, too, shaking his head ruefully. “I never quite know what to expect from you.”

  “Frustrating, isn’t it?” she remarked lightly, thinking the same thing of him.

  “Extremely,” he agreed. “But…challenging.”

  Their mouths agreed as he bent down and kissed her, before they turned back.

  They reached the cabin on the third day, five days after they had ridden out. Everything was as they had left it. All of them relished the shelter, for it was raining hard now. But they still couldn’t risk lighting a fire. Instead, they changed into other clothes, wrapping blankets around themselves for warmth.

  Quinn fetched water from the nearby river and washed the color from his hair. The rain had already partly removed it; the rest was scrubbed out. It was a theatrical substance, easily removed, that Sophie always kept available. Quinn then changed into his black clothes.

  “I’m going to see whether the Lady is there yet,” he told Meredith. “Cam will stay with you tonight. In the morning, a buggy will come for you with your trunk in it. There are widow’s weeds and a veil for Lissa in my portmanteau. They are your size and should fit.”

  Meredith nodded. They had agreed that Lissa would masquerade as Meredith’s bereaved cousin who was returning to Minnesota to attend a brother’s funeral. Kinship was necessary because of the similarity of app
earance between the two women, yet Quinn hoped that Lissa could remain hidden under the bonnet and veil.

  Meredith walked to the door with Quinn. He turned abruptly to speak briefly with Cam. “If the Lucky Lady is in, and I’m not standing on the top deck tomorrow at nine A.M., don’t come aboard. It means trouble. Go to Sophie’s. I’ll meet you there.”

  Cam nodded.

  Quinn leaned down and kissed Meredith. It was meant as a light good-bye, but it deepened into something else altogether, a hungry desperate urgency. He finally forced himself to break away, staring at her as he moved back. Her hat was gone, and the long black braid had fallen over her shoulder. Her skin was still dark from the coloring, and she looked utterly beautiful, her golden brown eyes misty with love, her lips red and swollen from his kiss, her hand slightly outstretched as if to keep him from going.

  “I love you,” he whispered and spun around to where the horses were tied. He took the saddled horse that Cam had been riding, and without a backward look spurred the animal into a trot.

  Sarah had awaited her opportunity. She found it as she passed a stable on the way to the mercantile store where she planned to buy some thread. Two men were standing there, burly, rough-looking men, who were quizzing the proprietor. One held a paper in his hand. “We’re looking for a runaway,” he said. “Possibly with a tall white man and a large black man.”

  The storekeeper’s eyes were hostile as he shook his head. “No one like that around here.”

  “There’s a reward…anyone gives us information, we’ll share it.”

  “I said I ain’t seen anyone like that.” The owner turned abruptly and went back into the barn, leaving the two men outside.

  “Damn,” said one. “We’ve been all over this town. Mebbe we were wrong. Mebbe they went toward Ohio.”

  “I don’t think so,” the other said. “The trail was too obvious. And there’s something about that description…”

  “A Virginian?”

  “I got a feelin’, John. That damned boat, the Lucky Lady, came in today.”

  The other man shrugged. “So what? We only made fools of ourselves when we asked the sheriff to search it that time.”

  “But the description…”

  “It didn’t say nothin’ about white streaks, and Devereux’s hair sure as hell is noticeable.”

  “Still…”

  “Hell, John, give it up. You’re just still mad ‘cause he took you at poker.”

  But John only regarded his brother stubbornly before looking around. He saw a mulatto wench staring at him and his eyes stopped moving. There was something in her face, something that compelled him to move over to her.

  “You know anything, girl, about a young, light runaway?”

  Sarah stood rooted to the ground. This was the chance to bring retribution down on Cam. A big black man, the slave hunter had said. And a white man. It had to be Cam and Captain Devereux. And she suddenly realized a way of telling without involving Miss Sophie.

  “I might know somethin’,” she said slyly.

  One of the men jingled coins in his picket. “Five dollars,” he said.

  “A man…he was drunk and told me he worked with the Underground Railroad, said he stole any number of slaves away.”

  “Who…?”

  Sarah looked toward the wharf. “He came from one of the riverboats. Said his captain was in it too.”

  The man looked at her suspiciously. “Why you telling us this, girl?”

  “He didn’t pay me,” she said spitefully.

  It was the perfect answer. The two men looked at each other. “When did you see him last?”

  “Five days ago.”

  John Carroll looked at his brother, Ted. “The Lucky Lady wasn’t here then. And that was two days before the girl disappeared.”

  Ted’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. He took several coins from his pocket and handed them to Sarah. “Here, girl,” he said.

  The two men turned toward the wharf, leaving Sarah standing there, five dollars clutched in her hand. She looked at the coins, and her head spun. She started to feel dizzy; words moved around in her head like flotsam in the river. “You’re a good girl, Sarah,” she heard a faraway voice say. Then the words changed to something else. “Thirty pieces of silver,” Mr. Hitchcock said plainly. “Thirty pieces of silver.”

  Sarah opened her hand and stared at the coins. “Thirty pieces of silver, and Judas betrayed his Lord.” The dead Mr. Hitchcock’s voice came clearly over and over again. She threw the coins down as if they burned her hand.

  Thirty pieces of silver. She stared at the gold mixing with the dust of the road. What had she done?

  He deserved it, she told herself. He had let her think…Cam was a thief. He should be punished. As she should be punished for her wickedness.

  Thirty pieces of silver.

  The words echoed in her mind, and she started running to escape them. “You’re a good girl, Sarah.” She was. She had been. And she would be again.

  Thirty pieces of silver. “No,” she screamed, running even harder, never seeing the carriage coming down the street. She stumbled and fell, hearing noise all around her. There was thunder in her ears, then scarlet all around, like flames from hell. And finally blackness.

  The Lucky Lady was safely at the wharf. Quinn slowly released his breath; the timing couldn’t have been better. Usually the boat remained overnight because there was much activity here, and he could see the feverish bustling as barrels and crates were transferred from boat to land. Meredith and Lissa could board early in the morning, before many others were astir.

  He strode easily up the gangplank and found Jamison. The Scot looked up at him dourly. “Thought you might be dead. You’ve been gone long enough.”

  Quinn smiled and shrugged. “It was Christmas, Mr. Jamison.”

  “Since when did you care for that nonsense?”

  “I’m trying to change my ways.”

  Jamison raised a dubious eyebrow.

  Quinn ignored it. “Do you have a stateroom available?”

  “Aye.”

  “Miss Seaton will be boarding with a recently bereaved cousin.”

  “The Miss Seaton who was kidnapped?”

  “You heard about it?”

  “Every damn soul up and down the river heard about it. Thought we got rid of river pirates a long time ago. Is the lass all right?”

  Quinn closed his eyes a moment to keep from smiling. “She seems well recuperated,” he said mildly.

  “Poor lass. We’ll take good care of her.”

  “Good,” Quinn said, nearly choking on the word. It was one of the few times his pilot had shown human emotion, and probably it never was less needed. “Anything unusual happening?”

  Jamison looked at him. “Unusual?”

  “Any more questions being asked about the Lucky Lady.”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Jamison replied with a frown. “Just the usual check. There was a runaway not far from here, and the boats were searched more thoroughly, but of course they didn’t find anything.”

  Quinn looked out over the town. It was still drizzling, and the river was rough. The sky, already gray, was darkening even more, and he knew nightfall was only minutes away. He had one remaining errand: to arrange for a buggy to bring Meredith and Lissa into town in the morning. If there was a second search Lissa’s “widowhood” would protect her from much questioning. According to everything he’d heard, the authorities were searching for a white man and a mulatto woman. There should be no suspicions of two bereaved white women and a well-known local black resident.

  Going to his cabin, Quinn hoped he could get everything done before he dropped from exhaustion.

  He awoke to pain. Jabbing, throbbing pain that started in his arms and stretched down into his back. Sharp, tingling pain at the base of his throat.

  Quinn’s sleep had been so deep, it took him several minutes to realize what had happened. By then the pain had intensified. His eyes opened slowl
y as his mind struggled to comprehend.

  The room was dark, but his tired eyes could make out shadows. One large form had a knife against his throat; the other was binding his arms behind him. When he tried to speak, the knife pressed tighter against his throat; he felt a trickle of wetness run down it.

  “No loud noises, Devereux,” a voice commanded, “or this knife goes deeper. Much deeper.”

  Quinn stilled, playing for time. “What do you want?”

  “The girl from the Evans plantation,” one of the voices said, and Quinn recognized it. One of the Carroll brothers.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quinn whispered.

  The knife cut a long line along Quinn’s throat, and he could feel the trickle increase to a flow. He closed his eyes. The pain didn’t bother him. God knew he had suffered much worse and survived. That was his ace. He was reputed to be a coward because he wouldn’t race, wouldn’t duel with those who called him a cheat when they lost. But he had discovered long ago that his tolerance for pain was immense; he had simply learned how to shut it out. But the Carrolls didn’t know that.

  “For God’s sake, stop,” Quinn said, forcing panic in his voice.

  “Where is the girl?”

  “I don’t know. You have to believe me.”

  “Then where’s that big darky who’s always with you?”

  “He better damn well be working,” Quinn said.

  “He ain’t on the boat.”

  Alarm ran through Quinn. This had something to do with Cam, and the Carrolls obviously knew a little. But what? And how did they find it? “Is that what you want?” he said. “Take him, the worthless no-good bastard. Never been worth the money I paid for him.”

  “Is that why you let him go whoring?” The question was dangerously soft, full of insinuation.

  Quinn’s heart went cold. Daphne. Had something happened to Daphne?

  “I don’t let him do nothing,” Quinn replied.

  The knife carved into his chest. “That’s not what a pretty little black whore says. She said your man bragged you and he was with the Underground Railroad, and that he refused to pay her for services used.”