His voice was husky with desire and he moved both hands inside her bloomers and under her bottom, feeling the soft flesh there, sure he had knocked her senseless enough to have his way with no trouble. Emma felt his mouth at her breasts again, and she grasped desperately for something to hit him with. Her hand felt something soft, and she thought it was dirt. With one quick, deliberate movement she pushed it into his eyes and he cried out, pulling up and rolling off of her.
“Damn you!” he screamed. “Cow shit! You rubbed cow shit in my face! You bitch! You bitch! I’ll kill you, Emma Simms!”
Emma quickly crawled away, scrambled to her feet, and picked up a loose fence board. Tommy sat rubbing at his eyes, and Emma took advantage of the moment. She swung hard with the board, slamming it across the side of his head.
Tommy cried out and fell sideways, and in her desperate fear and anger Emma hit him twice more, cracking the board over his head and across his shoulders.
Tommy let out an odd groan and hunched over. Emma threw down the board and rushed into the cabin, slammed and bolted the door, then ran to the corner where the musket sat loaded. She pointed it out the window at Tommy.
“You get out of here, Tommy Decker, or I’ll blow your brains out with this gun!” she yelled. “I mean it!”
He remained huddled and groaning, rocking back and forth, holding his head for several more minutes while Emma watched him. She kept the gun trained on him, hoping it was primed and ready to fire.
Tommy finally got to his knees. Emma’s eyes widened at the sight of him. Blood poured from a huge cut near his temple, and already the side of his face was beginning to swell. He managed to get to his feet, stumbling around and holding his head, groaning in pain.
Emma was amazed that she could have done so much damage, but she didn’t regret it. She fought the horrible panic that she might not have the courage actually to shoot him, telling herself that she had no choice if he came after her. She felt sick at the thought of his mouth at her breast, his hands fumbling at her bottom.
She wished River Joe were here right now; he would give Tommy Decker such a thrashing that he would never set foot near her again. Maybe he would even kill Tommy. She had no time to stop and wonder why she had suddenly thought of River Joe, or why she thought he would help her. The thought simply came to mind naturally, as though she had always known the man and could depend on him for protection.
But at the moment she wondered if even River Joe could have done any worse damage than she had done with the board. With effort, Tommy straightened up and looked toward the house, blood streaming down his face and soaking the front of his checked shirt.
“You’ll regret this, Emma Simms! I’ll get you for this—someday—somehow! I’ll strip you naked and tie you down and do things to you that you never even knew a man could do to a woman! I’ll rip your insides out, that’s what I’ll do! You’ll wish you would have let me do it today, the easy way!”
“You get off this land, Tommy Decker, or I’ll use this gun!”
He stumbled toward his “fine black.” “You damned bitch!” he almost wept. “You’re gonna pay for this! You’ll see!”
Emma watched him go to his horse, darting to another window so she could see him better. She shivered at the sight of his face. His left eye was beginning to swell shut and he spat blood from his mouth. He managed to climb up on the horse, then sat there panting. With one final curse, he rode off into the woods.
Emma watched after him for a long, long time, waiting to see if he would come back. When it seemed that he would not, she slowly set down the musket and slid to the floor. The terror and humiliation of the event had finally set in. She pulled her dress back over herself and huddled against the wall, weeping bitterly.
Never had she felt more alone and abandoned. Never had life looked so hopeless. She realized she was foolish to think River Joe was going to stand around in the woods and magically protect her. She had met him once and now he was gone. It was stupid to think of him as someone to rely on.
Now she was in a worse fix than ever. What would Tommy tell his father and Luke? If Luke thought Tommy had raped her, he would force a marriage for certain, saying it was the only proper thing to do. No matter what happened, this thing would come to a head soon, and now, more than ever, she could not bear the thought of marrying Tommy. He would push the issue even harder now, even if he didn’t want to marry her. He would do it for spite, getting the last laugh.
She breathed deeply, leaning back against the wall and trying to gain control of herself. River Joe. What a stupid thought for her to have! After the encounter with Tommy, the thought of any man touching her now was ugly and hideous. Were all men the same when it came to these things? River Joe was a big, strong man, bigger than Tommy. And he had been raised by Indians. Maybe he was as mean and forceful as Tommy when it came to those things.
She sniffed, and rose to find a wash pan, feeling sick at the manure still left on her hand. She scrubbed her hands vigorously with strong lye soap. She hoped there was nothing in her hair, for she was not about to get undressed and take a bath tonight. She would have to be watchful all night.
When her hands were clean she reached under her little cot and pulled out the gunnysack that held her few clothes—clothes packed and ready to run away on the Jasmine when it came. She removed her torn dress and pushed it under the bed, then pulled on a clean, blue cotton one. It was wrinkled, and she cried again; it was the last straw—having to put it on wrinkled and rumpled.…
She felt the back of her hair, grateful that it seemed clean, except for some dirt she could brush out. As she pulled the brush through her hair, she looked into an old, yellowed mirror that hung over her scratched and faded dresser. A bruise was forming on her left cheek, and she wondered how she would explain it. Tommy might be too proud to admit what had happened. If he held his tongue, Emma could tell Luke she had fallen on the dock at the river and hit her face on a post. And if Tommy did tell, she would show Luke the torn dress and explain what had really happened. It was proof of how much she hated Tommy Decker. Maybe then he would give in and say she didn’t have to marry him.
Her mind swirled with indecision, as she desperately tried to figure out what might happen to her now. Surely Hank Toole would be coming soon. She had to get away before Tommy Decker tried to hurt her again. She might not be lucky enough to get away from him the next time.
She picked up the musket again, walked to the table, and lit a lamp. It was getting dark. She hated the dark, the sounds in the surrounding forest. But she had never been as terrified as she was now. Would Tommy come back? She walked over to a rocker near the fireplace and sat down. If Luke was drinking with Jake Decker this late, he might not come back tonight. The man obviously cared little for her safety, giving no thought to the fact that her mother was dead and she was completely alone.
She began rocking, telling herself she must not fall asleep. Tommy Decker’s leering, freckled face and prying hands haunted her.
Her heart jumped when an animal growled somewhere deep in the woods. Was it a bear? A wild pig? A bobcat? Moments later a wolf’s howl pierced the air. She clamped her hands around the gun and sat frozen in the rocker. She prayed to the Maker of Breath for protection, but she was not certain just who River Joe’s mysterious God was. She knew little about God, other than her mother telling her she had long ago stopped believing in one.
Darkness fell, and she wondered if wild animals would come and tear at the doors of the flimsy cabin until they gave way, then come inside and devour her. Or maybe Tommy would return with friends. She could only hope she had hurt him badly enough to keep him away. Even so, he would not stay away forever. He would come for her, just as he had said he would, so it was more important now than ever to get away. Tommy Decker would want his revenge.
Something creaked and she jumped again, wondering how she was going to get through the night. He’ll come back, she thought, wishing she could die. Tommy w
ill come back and he’ll do bad things to me and kill me!
There was no one to help her.
Chapter 3
Emma awoke to the sun beaming through a crack in the curtains. She sat up with a start, rubbing her eyes. Morning had come, and she had survived the night.
She rubbed her neck. It ached from sleeping sitting up in the rocker. She stretched and rose, set aside the musket, opened the door, and breathed deeply of the mountain air. Morning brought her renewed courage. Birds sang and flowers still bloomed, and the Hiwassee rippled and splashed in the distance.
After a quick breakfast of bread and honey, she brushed her hair and readied herself for the day. She felt some pride at having made it through the night, and now in the sunlight, some of the horror of Tommy’s attack had faded from her mind.
She walked back to the door, carefully checking outside, then picked up the musket and went out. She walked over to where she had scuffled with Tommy the evening before and saw the board she had used. There was blood on the end of it. She shivered at the sight of it, again surprised at her strength and courage. No, it wasn’t courage. It was just plain anger and pride.
She set aside the musket, picked up the bloody board, and put it inside the shed, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain anything to Luke. She didn’t want anyone to know. Not only would he make her marry Tommy, but she would be ashamed to have to explain what he had done. She hurried to start her chores: feeding the pigs and throwing out more feed for the cow. She wondered if Luke was going to get more feed when the Jasmine came; they were almost out, and Luke had not planted a corn crop last year. The feed that was left was from the year before.
Farming on the Simms place had dwindled to tending a small garden that supplied enough food for the family. She doubted that Luke had anything worth trading to Hank Toole for more supplies, and if he couldn’t sell the farm right away, what would he do? She told herself not to worry about it. She would find a way to escape by then. It would be Luke’s problem.
She glanced over at her mother’s quiet grave, again feeling the pain of her loss, and the worse pain of realizing her mother had never known love or happiness. Would life be that way for Emma Simms?
She carried the musket to the garden behind the cabin and began hoeing, watching constantly for movement, worried that Tommy would return. But she saw nothing.
Noon came, and Luke still had not returned. Emma milked a cow and drank the milk, eating more bread and some cold boiled pork. She spent the rest of the afternoon hoeing more, trying to keep busy, to keep from thinking about Tommy’s attack. But she was still terrified he would return.
Evening came, and while sweeping the back steps she saw a movement through the trees; she dropped her broom and picked up the musket, raised it, and moved toward the back door of the cabin. She put her foot on a step and moved up slightly. She watched, telling herself to be brave, telling herself if it was Tommy Decker she should shoot him even if she was hanged for it.
The figure came closer, emerging from the sharp shadows the sun made through the leafy trees. It was a big man, riding a horse and leading a pack horse. It was River Joe.
Emma held the musket steady as he rode closer on a big roan gelding. He halted the horse a few feet from her, staring down at the musket, then moving his dark eyes to meet her blue ones.
“I saved you from the river the other day. Now you hold a gun on me.”
“After yesterday I hold this musket on anybody who comes by.”
His eyes softened. “What happened to your face?”
She began to redden then. “I… fell.”
He sighed deeply and shook his head. “Who hit you, Emma?”
Her eyes began to tear. “N-nobody.”
He dismounted and tied his horse to a tree limb. The pack horse was tied to the lead horse and loaded down with deer-skins. River Joe turned and faced her then. “If you are going to use that thing, you had better hurry up and do it.” He stood still, studying her face and feeling a great anger at the thought of someone hitting her. “Put down the musket,” he said. He did not shout the words. They were a simple, gentle command.
She lowered the gun, wondering why on earth she obeyed him so easily. He looked around the rundown farm.
“You are alone?”
“Yes, sir. But that doesn’t give you license to use your fists on me or try to take advantage of me. I’ll shoot you first.” She reddened more, realizing she had blurted the words without even thinking. She thought she read some humor in his eyes then as he folded his arms, looking bigger than she had remembered him.
“You won’t have to shoot me. Is that what happened to you yesterday? Somebody hit you with his fist?”
She turned away, sighing deeply and setting the musket against a sagging step railing. This River Joe was not a man easily fooled. She stood with her back to him, and a moment later he was behind her, standing one step below her but still taller than she. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and just as it had at the river, all her fear of him vanished. He turned her but she kept her head down until he lifted her chin to study the bruise. She looked up at him almost defiantly.
“Tommy Decker?”
She sniffed and turned away again, more embarrassed over the feelings his touch and looking into his eyes had stirred in her than over what had happened with Tommy. Did he sense these wild emotions she felt when he was near?
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “But he didn’t…” She swallowed and wiped at her eyes. “I rubbed manure in his face.” She whirled then, looking at him proudly. “I pushed it right into his face and eyes, and then I hit him with a fence board, three times. He’s hurting a lot worse than I am right now! I showed him no man takes Emma Simms for free!”
Their eyes held for several long seconds. Could he read her mind? Did he know she was thinking right now of an ending to that statement? No man but River Joe.
He broke into a handsome grin, then laughed lightly. “Well, you are one hell of a woman, Emma Simms. Tommy Decker must be ready to crawl into a hole from embarrassment.”
Now she smiled, too. “I expect so. You want to see the board I used? It still has blood on it.”
He laughed more and shook his head. “No. I believe you.” Their eyes held again and he sobered. “I am just sorry I was not around. I left to do more hunting. I have smoked a lot of deer meat for my family up in the mountains. I came back here to see if the Jasmine has shown up yet.” He looked back, his eyes scanning the woods like a cunning animal. “Your pa due soon?”
“Hard to tell. When he goes off drinking with Jake Decker, sometimes he’s gone for days at a time. I didn’t used to mind. But now with my mama dead, I’m here all alone.”
He looked at her again, his hands on the wooden railing, the upper portion of his body leaning close to her.
You’re the most handsome man I ever saw in my whole life, she wanted to tell him. His face was chiseled perfectly, his eyes dark and set wide apart, with nice eyebrows over them and thick lashes surrounding them. His lips curved cleanly, and his nose was straight and finely shaped.
“Your stepfather is a fool to leave you alone.” He touched the bruise on her cheek lightly with his fingers. “Tommy Decker should die for this,” he said quietly. “One so small and pretty does not deserve to be treated this way.”
She stared into his face, speechless, amazed that she had let this man touch her again. “Would you have killed him, River Joe?”
He studied the soft skin of her face—so fair, just a few freckles, the big, blue eyes. He saw her childlike curiosity, sensed her innocence and trust, and wanted her just as he had the first time he had seen her. Why had Esaugetuh Emissee led him to this white girl he could never have? Why did he feel this rage over her treatment or care at all what happened to her?
“I probably would have, out of anger. And I would hang for it. It is very bad for an Indian to kill a white man, and I am considered an Indian.”
<
br /> Her heart swelled with excitement. He would have risked his life for her! Surely she was right in looking at him as a protector. Still, he had not been there, nor could he always be there. And why should he?
“It isn’t right,” she said aloud, always concentrating on using “isn’t” instead of “ain’t,” just as Mrs. Breckenridge had taught her. She wondered how it was that River Joe used such good speech. “They shouldn’t judge you that way.”
“They should not even judge the Cherokee that way. They are good people, Emma, kind and hardworking. They marry and have families just like your people, They love, and they grieve, and to them this land is home.”
“I don’t know much about them. All I hear is bad things. Tommy sometimes raids Cherokee settlements with other young boys. He brags about it.”
She saw his eyes flash with anger. “This Tommy must be a coward, to attack young girls and Cherokee villages. I would like to meet this excuse of a man up close sometime.”
Emma shivered at the look in River Joe’s eyes, a sudden, wild look that reminded her that this man was an Indian at heart, a man of the mountains. Why was she standing here talking to him so casually, especially after the horror of Tommy’s attack the day before?
“Come,” he told her then. “Come sit by the river with me.”
The questions in her mind vanished, as though he could cast a spell on her. What would her stepfather do if he caught her talking to this wild man? River Joe took her arm, and she did not resist. He led her around the cabin toward the river.
“Are you all right then?” he asked. “Are there any other bruises, any injuries?”
“I don’t think so. I hit my head kind of hard when he tackled me. It knocked the breath out of me for a minute, but that’s all. Soon as I got it back, I grabbed for something to hit him with.” His hand was firm and warm on her arm. “I picked up what I thought was dirt and rubbed it in his face.”
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