Tennessee Bride

by Rosanne Bittner

  But no! Hank had already stopped and let off some supplies. With the river so high and dangerous, why would he bother stopping again just for casual conversation and bread and honey? An ugly fear that she could not even name weighed heavily in her chest. She told herself to relax. River would come. He would show up anytime now.

  She watched out the window then, waiting inside because of the returning rain. She wondered if there had ever been a year when it rained this much. How could the ground take any more? Surely the Hiwassee would swell even more, but River would come soon and take her to higher ground, where it would be safer.

  It took nearly another half-hour for the Jasmine to maneuver to shore. She watched Luke and Hank running around in the rain trying to tie the steamboat in waters that were now well above the pier. The two men ran up to the cabin then, barging inside. Emma felt uncomfortable when Hank looked at her, and the odd fear over why he was here at all crept over her again.

  “Well, well, how’s my girl?” the man asked, grinning. “Why, you’re no girl anymore, are you, Emma, honey? You’re a woman, and that’s a fact.” He came close beside her and patted her bottom. Emma moved away, and Hank’s eyes moved over her slowly, the same hunger in them as she had seen in Tommy’s eyes the day he attacked her. “Yes, ma’am, you are probably the prettiest girl in these here mountains,” he added.

  It all seemed so much more clear now, after Tommy’s attack, and after being with River Joe. Yes, she was a woman, and she knew why men looked at her the way they did. But when River Joe looked at her, touched her, it was with respect and love. Hank was hardly different from Tommy, just more cunning. It was incredible how much she had learned in only a few days, how enlightened she had become.

  “I gathered some strawberries for you, Hank,” she said, moving to the other side of the table. She filled two bowls and set them down for the men, noticing Hank and Luke exchange a look that said they knew something she did not. Emma’s heart pounded harder. She said nothing, not wanting to believe the ugly thought that was beginning to creep into her mind. River was coming. She should not be afraid.

  She set bread and honey in front of the two men and they ate, Luke breaking open a new bottle of homemade whiskey. Emma eased her way over to a rocker, hoping they would both go outside soon and she could use the moment to run away. Surely if she ran into the woods, River would find her. She didn’t care about the rain. It might even help her hide. She didn’t care about anything now but getting away, not even sure why she should run, only sensing a sudden danger.

  River. Surely he was close by. Why didn’t he come? Was he waiting for the Jasmine to leave? She got up and moved to a window, staring out, watching for him. All her hopes and dreams were centered now on River Joe. She had loved him fiercely. He had promised to come. Again she fought the horrible possibility that he had not meant any of it. Maybe he was well on his way back to his people, laughing about the stupid mountain girl he had gently raped. Was that what had happened to her?

  “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out on this river, Luke,” Hank was saying. “This is about as bad as I’ve ever seen it, and now more rain is comin’. You better get yourself to higher ground.”

  Luke waved him off. “This river don’t scare me. She’ll never get this high.”

  “Well, now, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Hank took a swallow of whiskey. “Say, I seen River Joe up at the MacBain settlement. I never knew him to come this far south before.”

  Emma stiffened, casually walking back over to the rocker, somewhat relieved to know River had gone where he said he would go.

  “Lots of people around here have seen him. We even seen him once,” Luke told the man. “The day we buried Betty. He come walkin’ right out of the trees, then disappeared again.”

  “He’s like that. I guess there was some trouble with him up at the Gillmore settlement, and then he give me a little trouble over not gettin’ enough for his skins, so they held him up there.”

  Emma felt a sickness in her stomach.

  “I mean to tell you, I was relieved,” Hank went on. “He was in a piss poor mood over them skins, and then that Tommy Decker come along and tried to start somethin’ with him. Say, what the hell happened to Tommy’s face anyway?”

  “Horse throwed him.”

  Hank chuckled. Emma struggled against tears. Where was River?

  “Well, anyway, I’ll be well on my way before they let River Joe loose. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t hang him after they think about it awhile. People would sleep better nights knowin’ he was dead.”

  Emma felt a pressure growing in her head, felt suddenly removed from everything else. Hang him! Not River! He was coming for her. He was her only hope. She loved him. She had lain with River Joe, taken him inside herself. It couldn’t end this way!

  “Why would they hang him, Hank?” she blurted, walking closer to the table.

  Hank turned, his eyes moving over her again. “Oh, just to get rid of a nuisance. After what he did up at the Gillmore place…” He kept moving his eyes from her breasts to her belly. “They figure he’s got a yen now for pretty little white girls, like you.” The man reached out and grabbed her hand before she could back away. He rubbed the back of it with his thumb. “But don’t you worry, little one. I’d never let that white Indian hurt you. You’re goin’ to Knoxville with ol’ Hank. Did your pa tell you about that?”

  Her cheeks felt warm and she pulled her hand away. “No.” She looked at Luke. “Are you… are you going to let Hank help me find Mrs. Breckenridge?”

  Luke looked at Hank and they both chuckled. “Not exactly, girl,” he answered. “You’ll meet some women, but they won’t be anything like Mrs. Breckenridge.”

  Emma moved farther back, watching them both carefully. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Come on now, honey.” Hank rose. “For years I been tellin’ you about Knoxville and other places, and you been askin’ about it, sayin’ how you’d like to see them places. Well, now I’m gonna take you, and you’ll meet somebody who’s gonna put pretty clothes on you, like you always wanted. Why, when we get through with you, you won’t recognize yourself when you look in the mirror. You’ll be the prettiest girl in Knoxville.”

  She looked at Luke. “I want to stay here.”

  Luke rose also. “You can’t. I’m leavin’ myself after a while. And since you object to marryin’ Tommy Decker, I’m doin’ what I got a right to do, Emma. Now Hank here has give me good money for you from a man in Knoxville who will make a real pretty lady out of you.”

  She felt even sicker. “Money? Luke, that’s like… that’s like selling me. You’ve got no right selling me like a… like a cow or a pig.”

  His dark eyes flashed the look she had seen many times before, usually before he hit her. “I got all the rights, Emma Simms. And I ain’t goin’ back on no deals with a man of Sam Gates’s position. So you just get your things together and go with Hank.”

  “Sam Gates? Who is Sam Gates?”

  “A very wealthy man in Knoxville who is anxious to meet you,” Hank answered. He stepped a little closer. “Come on now, honey, I got to get the Jasmine back into the river and get goin’.”

  She watched them both carefully, then bolted to the right, heading for the back door. But Hank was ready, catching her around the waist and dragging her back, reaching around her breasts with his other arm to pull her. Emma tugged and kicked, grabbing a pan to reach back and hit him with in the head, but Luke grabbed her wrist and yanked the pan from her hand. He jerked her away from Hank and slammed her across the side of the face with the back of his hand, knocking her sideways into an old iron cookstove.

  “She’s a stubborn thing. You better tie her, Hank,” she heard Luke saying.

  Before the dizziness left her and she could rise again, someone rolled her onto her stomach and pulled her wrists behind her. “Get me somethin’ to do it with,” Hank was saying.

  Emma b
egan struggling wildly again, and Hank pushed her arms up high so that it brought her pain. He sat on her hips, leaving her helpless.

  “Luke, don’t do this,” she screamed. “Let me stay here! Please, Luke. River’s coming! River Joe is coming for me! He’ll pay you if he has to!”

  Someone began tying her wrists, and someone else grasped her hair painfully. “What’d you say girl?”

  The tears came then. “River Joe is coming for me.”

  He pulled her hair harder. “You been with him? You been with that white Indian?”

  She grimaced in pain, not answering. Someone jerked her to her feet then, her wrists tied tightly behind her.

  “I asked you a question, girl! You been with River Joe? You been sneakin’ around lettin’ trash like that get under your dress?”

  She jerked in a sob. “He loves me. And I love him! Just let me go with him, Luke, please!”

  He landed her another blow, and she was unable to ward off her fall with her arms. Blackness moved in to take over when her head hit the floor, and she could think of nothing but River, holding her in his strong arms, making love to her, bringing her the beautiful pain, making her his woman. He had said he would come. Had they hurt him? Maybe he was dead. Who was going to come and help her now? And if River was dead, what difference did it really make what happened to her? She would simply find a way to kill herself.

  “Sam Gates paid good money for a virgin,” she heard Hank say.

  “I know. I had no idea, Hank. River Joe of all men! Good God!”

  “I don’t like it. This makes things more dangerous for me.”

  “He can’t get to you in the middle of that ragin’ river, and you said yourself they detained him at the MacBain place. Besides, him comin’ for her is probably all in her head. No wild man like that is gonna worry about one stupid white girl who spread her legs for him. There’s probably others just as stupid in some of the other settlements. He’ll go back to his people and mate up with some Cherokee girl. Don’t pay no attention to what she said.”

  “Well, Sam Gates ain’t gonna like this.”

  “Well, it ain’t my fault, and I ain’t givin’ back none of the money.”

  Someone picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. She felt a hand rub over her hips and heard Hank’s voice close. “Well, since she ain’t so fresh anymore, I expect I got a right to have at her myself at least.”

  “Do what you want. I don’t give a damn, especially since she laid with that white Indian!”

  “By the time Sam’s customers get through with her, she’ll forget all about him. She’ll tame down and learn to like it in time.”

  Emma felt herself being carried then, felt wind and rain, heard the raging waters. The river! Hank was taking her on the Jasmine and she would be in those black, swirling waters! She could never get away then. She was terrified of the water.

  River! If only he would come. He would kill these men for what they were doing! He would swim the swirling waters to get to her, she just knew it.

  Now the water was very close. Someone lowered her. She fell onto something hard and sensed darkness. A door closed, and she felt a rocking motion. She was on the boat, but she couldn’t move or think straight. Everything hurt. Because of the wind and rain and the raging river, she couldn’t hear the voices clearly now.

  She slipped down, resting her head against what felt like a sack of potatoes, her last thought of River kissing her, promising to come back.

  When Emma awoke, she was not sure how much time had passed. Everything hurt terribly, and her hands felt half-asleep. Her head was throbbing as she managed to sit up. Everything was total darkness. She slipped sideways, dizziness overcoming her, then just let her head rest again on the sack of potatoes. After a few minutes her eyes adjusted, and she could barely make out a very small room, probably one of the tiny storerooms above the deck of the Jasmine.

  She knew this boat. Hank had let her explore it many times, when she was an innocent child who thought him simply the friendly man from Knoxville who owned a pretty yellow steamboat and traded supplies with settlers. There were a couple of tiny storerooms above deck, and an area below deck for more storage. Many supplies were stacked above deck, and she wondered how they were going to stay put in the midst of the storm that was tossing the Jasmine wildly now.

  As her head became more clear she realized the kind of business Hank Toole was really in, and she wondered how many other women he had purchased and taken back to the city with him. All these years he had been waiting for her to grow up, and Luke had been waiting for the chance to sell her. How glad she was that her mother was not alive to know about this.

  She tried to sit up again, groaning with the pain in her head. Where was River? Who was there to help her now? Everything was gone—the only place she had been able to call home, her mother… River. River. How wonderful it would be to feel his arms around her at this moment, hear him telling her not to be afraid, feel him lift her and carry her away, off this horrible little boat and away from the terrifying river.

  But he probably would not come. He might even be dead. And if he wasn’t, maybe he had never meant to keep his promise in the first place. Maybe she really was just a stupid mountain girl, one of many he had charmed with his gentle hands and sweet words, winning them over with that warm, beautiful smile, that utterly handsome face and powerful build. He was a man of mystery, who probably made lots of girls curious and excited and knew the power he had over them.

  The helpless tears came then. What was she to do? What kind of fate awaited her in Knoxville? She didn’t know much about those things, other than to be sure it was something bad, something that would involve men using her.

  The Jasmine creaked and groaned, and Emma curled up, sure that at any moment the small steamer would break apart and she would be swallowed up into the black waters. At least drowning would be better than going to Knoxville. The day had started out so full of hope. How could such happiness turn into such horror so quickly?

  She heard footsteps then, and the door was flung open. Someone came inside the tiny storeroom, and she could tell it was dark and raining outside.

  “Let’s go, honey,” she heard Hank say. “We’re tied up here for the night. Been here quite a while. The river’s too dangerous to go any farther. Lots of trees down, pieces of junk floatin’ all over the place.” He grasped her arm. “You awake now?”

  “Hank, please take me back,” she begged. “You used to be my friend.”

  “That was when you was little, honey. You ain’t little no more.”

  She tried to jerk away but he pulled her back, much too strong now for her to struggle against. “No, ma’am, you ain’t little no more, and I been waitin’ a long time for this. I reckon’ the Jasmine will hold up while I make use of my cabin for a while.”

  She tried to get away again and he grabbed her around the throat. “I got a slave down below feedin’ the boiler,” he growled. “You be real nice to me, Emma, or I’ll let him come up and have his own turn at you. That what you want, a black man havin’ at you?”

  He pulled her outside in the rain and then led her stumbling along beside him to his little cabin. He shoved her inside and closed the door. The tiny room reeked of tobacco and whiskey, and a urine pot sat in the comer. She thought how the room was like Hank, painted pretty outside but dirty inside, just like Hank was smelly inside the nice suits. The only furnishings were a cot, a dresser, a table, and a chair.

  Hank pushed her onto the cot and raised the wick on a lantern so that the room was brighter.

  “Well, now, ain’t this cozy?”

  She could see him better now, saw that he was dripping wet. His hair was matted and his teeth looked yellower by the lamplight.

  “Hank, please don’t,” she asked. “It’s bad out there. You… you should be watching the boat. It’s making all kinds of noises, Hank. It’s going to break up and we’ll all die!”

  The man
chuckled. “Not the Jasmine.” The boat lurched and he grabbed the bed rail to stay on his feet. “Somethin’ about a captain keepin’ his ship goin’ in a storm that brings all the juices up, you know what I mean, honey?” He took off his coat and threw it aside, then unbuttoned his shirt. “Now that the white Indian done broke you in, this shouldn’t be too bad. You might even enjoy it. I’ll get to see what I been wantin’ to see for a long, long time—and you’ll take a man on the wild river. Don’t it kind of excite you, just think-in’ about it?”

  She had to think. Her only hope was to have her hands free. She swallowed, forcing a smile. “You’ll be nice to me?”

  He grinned back, taking off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. “Ain’t I always nice to you, honey?”

  “Will you untie my hands? Please? They’re asleep, Hank. I promise not to fight you. I’m scared of the river. Where would I go?”

  He came closer, dropping his pants and sitting down on the cot, removing his boots. The Jasmine lurched suddenly and he fell over her legs. He kicked off his pants then and crawled up onto the cot, hovering over her.

  “Okay. I reckon you’ve tamed down some by now. Roll over.”

  She scooted back, feeling sick at the look in his eyes. “I’ll… I’ll turn around.”

  Hank chuckled. “Sure. We’ll do this more than once. Once you learn to like it, we can try it other ways. You promise to be a good girl? I don’t want to have to hit you again. You’re already all black and blue from Luke knockin’ you around.”

  “I promise. I’m so sore, Hank. Surely we’re good enough friends that you don’t want to see me hurting.”

  He watched her carefully, then moved to the table, picking up a knife. “Sit real still now.” He slit the ties on her wrists and pulled them off. She brought her arms around in front of her, rubbing her blistered wrists with cold, sleepy hands, then shivered against the dampness of her dress.

  “Let’s take these wet clothes off of you, honey,” Hank said then, leaning up close behind her and unbuttoning her dress.