Freedom's Price

by Christine Johnson

  Tom knew that in his head, and it made sense with the bigger things like life or death. But a ship? Did God care if he got Pa’s ship back? Yet that quest had ruled Tom’s life for ten years. He would never forget how broken Pa had been when he returned, only to suffer pitying looks. Thomas Worthington Sr. had gone from proud shipowner and master to defeated deckhand who couldn’t even provide for his family—a family that was now in the care of Pa’s rival.

  Tom flexed the fingers he’d been clenching so tightly. “I can’t forget.”

  “No one ever can. Not completely. I can’t forget the arrogance I showed my father. He died before I asked his forgiveness. Though my mother told me he’d forgiven me, it was hard to forgive myself and impossible to forget what I’d done. Yet God says He not only forgives but forgets, as far as the east is from the west.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Elizabeth says it helps to say the words over and over.”

  Tom stared at Rourke. “You expect me to say that I forgive DeMornay? Never.”

  Rourke looked at him a long time before heading to the captain’s cabin. Tom was left alone on deck with the bitter taste of hatred and a quest cut short.

  Catherine had to get away from the plantation and especially DeMornay. The man disgusted her. Moreover, he clearly had designs on her that she could not and would not fulfill. On the other hand, she could not leave Aurelia and her children in that man’s grasp. She needed help, and Judge Graham was most likely to be able to give it. He could find a way for her to get Aurelia and the children away from DeMornay. Since there was no transfer of ownership on record, she might have sufficient control. The judge could give her answers.

  A trip to the stables revealed three horses and Walker, the groom who’d driven the carriage the night of the dance.

  “Can you take me to town?”

  In spite of her clear question, the groom’s eyes widened. “No, miss. Need four horse fer de carriage.”

  “I don’t need a full carriage. A small buggy would do.” But no matter how many times she asked, she got the same response.

  He wouldn’t hitch a horse and buggy for her. That left walking.

  “How far is it to Titchwood?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Two mile each way, maybe more.”

  She had walked that far many a time, for the village lay a good two miles from Deerford. It had never been this hot, though. By the time she reached the junction where the judge had let her and Tom from his conveyance, she was wilted from the heat.

  The oak, part of its trunk scarred black, offered cooling shade. No carriages had passed her on the road thus far, but now that she was heading toward the village and off Black Oak lands, surely someone would pass. A respectable couple might offer to let her ride with them, sparing her the heat of midday. In the meantime, she would rest a spell beneath the oak.

  She set down her small bag containing the documents the judge had given her and laid her head on it. Soon the sound of the river’s coursing coupled with the heat drove her eyelids downward. No matter how much she fought, they grew heavier and heavier until she lapsed into a fitful sleep populated with terrible images of a woman getting beaten. Except this time it wasn’t Aurelia. It was her!

  She awoke with a start.

  “I had a mind to let you sleep. You looked so peaceful.”

  The familiar voice drove sleep away. She squinted to make out Tom standing with the sun behind him. “You could offer to assist a lady to her feet.”

  “I could. If she would give me the slightest indication that she wished to get to her feet. A hand, perhaps?”

  Though her heart had leapt at the sight of him, his teasing annoyed her already bruised emotions. Nevertheless, she stuck out her hand and he pulled her to her feet. She brushed off her skirts.

  “You are the last person I expected to see here.” The bits of dried grass and leaves clung fiercely to her gown.

  “Who did you expect to meet? DeMornay?”

  She glared at him. “Someone respectable who might offer me a ride to Titchwood.”

  Tom laughed. “I gather that I am not respectable enough for your tastes.”

  “You do not have a carriage,” she pointed out.

  “Ah, then you would abandon the demand for respectability if a scoundrel had a proper carriage.”

  “You are the singularly most frustrating man I have ever met. Do you intend to stand there mocking me, or will you assist me?”

  His grin faded. “As you see, I don’t have a carriage. So how can I assist you?”

  “I need to get papers drawn up for Aurelia and her children. I can do that in Titchwood.” A thought crossed her mind. “Or New Orleans. Is Captain O’Malley still here? He would take me to the city.”

  He looked around her. “You haven’t any baggage.”

  “It’s a short trip.”

  He didn’t look pleased by that answer. “Then you don’t plan to leave?”

  “Not without Aurelia and the children.”

  That brought a smile to his lips. “I can take you to the James Patrick in the ship’s boat. It’s pulled ashore between the landing and here.”

  He held out his arm, and she gratefully took it. Tom had always been a gentleman—well, except perhaps when he’d stolen that kiss from her in the pigeonnier. She smiled at the memory.

  “Let’s hurry,” she urged.

  DeMornay would soon return from the cane fields and find her missing. It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out where she went. Walker would not keep a secret. Only when she reached Captain O’Malley’s ship would she feel free.

  Tom led her around a fallen log. “Nervous?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  Tom smiled. “Because you’re gripping my arm like you’re afraid I’ll leave you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I wouldn’t, you know. Leave you, that is.”

  The words swirled through her consciousness with a delightfully calming effect. He would never leave her. “Even in difficult times?”

  “Especially then.”

  “Even if it gets so hot that I can’t walk any farther?”

  He grinned. “I would carry you.”

  She laughed at the image of him struggling to carry her. “Shall we put that to the test?”

  He looked stricken. “It might not be the best time.”

  She laughed again but then sobered as a far more important possibility crossed her mind. What if she did end up the owner of Black Oak? “Even if I ask you to stay here with me?”

  He hesitated long enough to give her the answer.

  “You wouldn’t stay,” she said for him.

  “I’m a sailor.”

  “There are ships here. We could get one for the plantation, to haul sugar to market.”

  He looked even more uncomfortable. “That is a big endeavor.”

  But his manner gave her the answer to the niggling question of a future with Tom Worthington. It wasn’t possible. Not on her terms, anyway.

  “You might go to Key West with me,” he said a bit too eagerly.

  As much as that island tugged on her heart, she could not leave matters here unaddressed. People suffered. She could not step away when she had the ability to help.

  “We need to go through the bushes here.” Tom indicated a seeming wall of vegetation. “I will lead. Hold on.”

  She grasped his hand, and he plunged into the foliage. Branches swatted her face, and twigs tore at her skirts. They climbed a sweltering levee and plunged back down the other side and into the foliage again, even denser here. The uneven ground made her stumble, but Tom caught her.

  He drew her so close that she could feel the beating of his heart and his breath upon her cheek. She hazarded a look up and lost herself in those brown eyes, dotted with flecks of gold revealed by the sunlight.

  “Catherine.” Her name sat ragged upon his tongue. His finger traced the curve of her jaw.

  She trembled beneath his t
ouch, losing the will to resist him. Her eyelids drifted shut, and her breaths came quickly. Her lips tingled in anticipation.

  He did not disappoint. The first brush of his lips was light as a butterfly’s wing. The next deep as the chasms of the ocean. She fell into it, forgetting the world around her. The river, the plantation, everything retreated into the sanctity of that kiss.

  “Oh, Catherine,” he groaned softly when their lips parted.

  His forehead dropped to hers.

  She drew in a ragged breath. What had she done? He would expect her to join him, would expect her to leave with him, but how could she? She needed Rourke to take Aurelia and her children to Key West. Even if she had to travel with them in order to convince authorities that the slaves belonged to her, she must still return to Louisiana until ownership of the plantation was resolved.

  “We should go,” he whispered, but he did not move.

  “Yes.” She must be the stronger one, the practical one. She pulled from his grasp and attempted to navigate the sloping ground. Her feet kept slipping.

  “Here we go.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her down the slope.

  She held tight, drinking in this moment.

  Then he halted.

  She adjusted her bonnet to see what had caused him to stop. She gasped at the sight.

  “Miss Haynes. Mr. Worthington. Going somewhere?” DeMornay stood on the riverbank beside his horse, holding on to a line leading to the rowboat that Tom had tied to the bank.

  Tom set her feet on the ground but did not let go of her. “We are if you will step out of the way.”

  “I think not.” DeMornay tossed the line into the boat and kicked the skiff out into the river.

  The current caught it and sent it spinning away.

  22

  Catherine hung on to Tom. If DeMornay could whip a woman who bore his children, what would he do to a man trying to reveal him as a criminal?

  Tom’s jaw was set, his gaze narrowed. He did not tremble like she did. Then again, he did not know about Aurelia’s flogging or any of what had happened. She had wasted precious time with verbal sparring.

  The ship’s boat, their last tie to Rourke’s vessel, drifted away.

  DeMornay took an oar from a bush, where Tom had apparently stowed it, and cast it into the river. The other oar soon followed. “What a pity to lose a life so young.”

  The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Surely he would not kill them.

  Tom squeezed her shoulder. He must have sensed her fear and was holding her tight. He would protect her with his life. Tears rose unbidden. He had proven faithful every step of the way, yet she’d hesitated to trust. Altogether too much like her walk with the Lord. Rather than trusting His plan, she rushed into her own, never stopping to listen. Even so, God remained faithful, waiting for her.

  So too Tom. Her feelings for him had deepened beyond friendship. When had attraction and affection turned to love? Perhaps in that very moment, for she would rather face death than see Tom perish.

  The answer came clearly to mind. It would work but would come at a great cost.

  To save his life, she must give up all hope of a future with him.

  She stepped from Tom’s grasp. “I will return home with you, Mr. DeMornay. Tom was just saying farewell before rejoining Captain O’Malley aboard the James Patrick.” Hopefully that was enough to allay DeMornay’s suspicions.

  Tom caught her shoulder again. “I will not leave without Catherine.”

  DeMornay grinned. “I believe the lady has made her wishes clear. However, midday is no time for a drowning.” He pulled a revolver from his saddle. “You will return with us, Mr. Worthington.”

  Catherine gasped. Tom’s reaction was ruining her plan. She must make another attempt.

  She wrenched out of Tom’s grasp. “I want nothing to do with you.” How difficult to feign anger with him. She prayed DeMornay didn’t recognize the tale she was attempting to spin. “After the undignified way you treated me, I cannot tolerate even having you on my plantation. Leave him, Mr. DeMornay. He is not worth our trouble.”

  How her heart pounded in the seconds of silence when all hung in the balance. Tom could not help her as a captive—or dead. A free Tom could meet her by night and arrange for the escape she now knew was necessary.

  For added measure, she threw out, “I don’t care if you have to swim to the James Patrick. Leave this place and return to Key West.”

  Tom blinked. “But I thought—”

  “You thought incorrectly. Key West is a provincial town. Here I have everything I’ve ever wanted: family, land, and a vibrant city. Key West can offer none of that.”

  Tom hesitated a moment before a mask cloaked his expression. “As you wish.” He bowed stiffly.

  “Lovely performance,” DeMornay smirked, “but not believable after the kiss you two shared a moment ago.”

  Catherine felt her cheeks heat. DeMornay had seen that? Then they were indeed ruined. She would never get Aurelia from the plantation. She couldn’t even get Tom away.

  “Hand over your blade.” DeMornay waved the gun at Tom until he slipped the dagger from his belt. DeMornay took it from him and threw it into the river. “You will walk alongside my mount. Miss Haynes will ride with me.”

  He then mounted, grabbed Catherine’s arm, and yanked her up onto the horse with him.

  Tom walked ahead of DeMornay’s horse. No doubt the Colt revolver was aimed at his back. It didn’t take much imagination to see what DeMornay intended to do with him. After nightfall, the man intended to murder him—or have someone else accomplish the evil deed. Tom hadn’t seen the man’s murderous side until now. Though DeMornay had stolen Pa’s ship, he had spared his life and presumably the lives of the crew.

  That was not going to be the case tonight.

  The heat made the dust rise, even from this lowland where the water was so close to the surface. It parched his throat and scratched his eyes.

  This day had begun so well. He’d planned to find and rescue Catherine. DeMornay would be a man of habit. That meant Tom could reach Catherine unhindered before the midday meal. He’d left the James Patrick at an early hour, but it took much longer to row across the wide river than he’d planned, and then he’d ended up farther downriver than he’d intended.

  When he saw Catherine at the black oak, he’d counted it a blessing. But the blessing soon turned to a curse. Now he and Catherine were in DeMornay’s hands.

  He kicked at a stone. It skittered ahead and elicited a growl from DeMornay.

  “Walk!”

  The barked order only irritated Tom. He had to find a way to get Catherine away from DeMornay. Punching an armed man would only get him killed. He had to find another way.

  He wasn’t about to play along with her solution. At first he’d been perplexed by her cool words and the way she’d acted annoyed with him. The taste of her kiss, sweet as honey, still lingered on his lips. That had not been the kiss of a woman who despised him. Oh no, it had given him hope.

  Then he realized what she was trying to do. If she thought DeMornay could be so easily fooled, she was mistaken. The man was too cunning to fall for such a transparent ruse.

  Tom preferred to act boldly and decisively.

  What if it led to the ultimate confrontation? Could he kill a man?

  A whip slashed down on his shoulder. “Walk faster. We don’t have all day.”

  The leather bit through his shirt and drew blood.

  Catherine gasped. “Don’t!”

  DeMornay ignored her. “Faster, Worthington, or you’ll feel the whip again.”

  Tom could endure far more pain than DeMornay thought, but a whipping would not save Catherine. At this moment, Tom couldn’t see how to save her, but then Rourke would say that God has answers we can’t even imagine . . . if we place our trust in Him.

  “‘The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped.’” That verse from Psalms had fortified him man
y a time. Whether facing an irate drunken man or a sea that threatened to tear the ship apart, Tom could turn to this Scripture.

  “Is that so?” DeMornay sneered. “Then where is this god of yours? I don’t see him. All I see is a man acting with his heart. Don’t you know the heart is irrational and not to be trusted? Call on this invisible god of yours all you want, but I assure you that real power will prevail.”

  Tom heard Catherine gasp again and could imagine her shudder. He had to get her away from this place. But how?

  Show me, Lord.

  Rourke said that God always answers prayer. Not always on our timeline or in the way we expect, but He does answer. Tom had to rely on that, because he was fresh out of ideas. DeMornay would not allow him to roam the estate freely. But he wouldn’t kill Tom in front of Catherine. He would lock him away somewhere until he could accomplish the feat undetected. Worse, he might lock up Catherine too.

  What was the man’s purpose?

  DeMornay’s actions today exposed him for who he really was. There would be no more pretending that he was the benevolent administrator of the plantation. That lie was dead and buried.

  No, DeMornay must want something very badly, something that only Catherine could give him. But what? To gain any inheritance through her, he must get past Henry Lafreniere and his brother. Surely he would not kill two men to get a decrepit plantation. It made no sense. Unless there was something beneath the surface that he hadn’t seen yet.

  Think. Think.

  But Tom’s head was fogged from heat and thirst.

  DeMornay already had full control of the plantation, yet he did not do much with it. Lafreniere had claimed it was highly profitable, yet the fields looked overgrown and the plantation lacked slaves.

  That was it! Somehow the answer was tied to this peculiar situation. Even if a full crew was far off in the fields, the house and grounds should look better. When added to the fear and dread that everyone expressed about the place, it meant something illicit was going on, quite possibly with Pa’s ship.