She turned away. “Never mind. Take it away. I won’t drink it.”
He came closer, and suddenly a strong hand took hold of her face, squeezing her jaw so painfully that she was forced to open her mouth. The milky substance was poured into it. She struggled not to swallow, but it was impossible, and moments later the room began to swirl around her. She thought about River and the babies, and then all was black.
Chapter 22
Emma’s heart pounded harder every time she heard footsteps outside the door of the room where she was kept. She lived with the terror of wondering if Tommy Decker or Sam Gates had come to take what he thought was due him. For four days she lay with one wrist chained to the post at the head of the brass bed. She had been bathed, her hair washed and brushed, and she wore a satin bed gown. She was allowed to do nothing but eat and sleep, and whenever she had to relieve herself, the prostitute named Joanna helped her.
Emma had been unable to strike up any kind of conversation with Joanna. She was cold and unfriendly, or at least she had seemed to be at first. But Emma soon realized that Joanna was simply afraid of Sam Gates. She was determined not to strike up a friendship with Emma Simms, and Emma was sure it was on orders from Sam. There would be no comfort or help from Joanna, whose last name Emma didn’t even know.
Joanna was perhaps twenty-five, a woman who was pretty but looked as though she used to be a softer pretty. Now she had a painted look that hid what remained of the woman beneath the jewelry and makeup.
Emma had at first appealed to Joanna’s womanhood, sure she could gain her sympathy by telling her about her children, that she was not here by choice, that she wanted to return to her babies. She had hoped Joanna would understand and help her escape. But the fear of what Sam Gates would do to her far outweighed any sympathy the woman might have for Emma, if, indeed, she had any feelings at all.
Why Sam Gates allowed her four days’ rest instead of two, Emma was not sure. Perhaps he was confident that he didn’t need to worry about River. Emma rejoiced in the delay. It would allow River more time to get to her, perhaps before she had to go to the coal mine where Sam Gates intended to send her.
Emma tried not to think about the horrors that awaited her there. She had no doubt Sam Gates had prettied her up and let her rest only to make sure she was as presentable as possible when she arrived at the mine. She was sure that very soon she would be sent away, and the only thing worse than where she was going was the realization that it would be Tommy Decker who would take her there. She was healed now. Nothing would prevent Tommy from taking what he had been wanting from her for years, and she was still too weak from her ordeal to defend herself. She could only pray that River would come before Tommy took her away.
Her eyes teared and her stomach churned at the vague memory of Sam Gates pawing over her after she had drunk the horrible liquid that made her so groggy. For hours after she drank the liquid everything that happened was like a strange nightmare. Someone had bathed her, washed her hair. There were voices, but she could not remember the words. She remembered only warm water, someone rubbing creams on her, Sam Gates’s face close to hers, his hands moving over her.
Now she heard footsteps again. The door opened. It was Joanna.
“Time to go,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “Tommy is waiting out back.”
Emma’s heart quickened. Not yet! River had not arrived yet. She couldn’t leave.
“You’re to get dressed now,” Joanna said in her usual cool voice. “I’ve already packed some clothes for you. They’re on Tommy’s pack horse.” She came around to unlock Emma’s chain. “Don’t try something dumb. There are men outside the door. There is nothing you can do, so you might as well get dressed and not make a fuss.”
Emma rubbed at her wrist and slowly stood up, still a little dizzy and not very strong. Joanna brought a dress over to her, and Emma grasped the woman’s wrist, her eyes pleading.
“Joanna, for God’s sake help me! Tell me how I can get out of this!”
The woman jerked her arm away. “You can’t.” Joanna’s green eyes again showed fear—fear of Sam Gates, Emma was sure. “Don’t fight it,” she said. “Trust me that much. You don’t have the slightest idea how cruel Sam can be when you fight him.”
She turned away and Emma removed her gown, fighting the urge to scream and run. The babies. She constantly reminded herself that she had to survive for the babies. “Have you been there, Joanna, to the mine?”
The woman walked to a window, looking out while Emma got dressed. “I’ve been there,” she answered finally. She turned to face Emma. “Do your duty for six months, like Sam asked. Then he’ll let you go. He’s a cruel man, but he doesn’t lie. Whatever he says, he’ll do… including inflicting great pain if you disobey him. So don’t even think about it. And don’t worry about getting pregnant from all those men. There is a doctor at the mine who will fix it so you can’t get pregnant.”
Emma felt her blood run cold. Not get pregnant! Her eyes widened. “You mean… forever?”
Joanna laughed lightly. “Of course, forever. How do you think it is I can sleep with a different man every night and not get pregnant? It’s not very common, what this doctor does, but it works. It only leaves a tiny scar on your stomach—nothing to worry about.”
Emma felt the panic moving through her bones, and she fought it, afraid to put up a fight while Sam Gates was still nearby. “But… babies mean everything to me. I… I want to have more! I don’t want to be fixed so I can’t have babies!”
Joanna shook her head and sighed deeply. “Look, Emma, why don’t you grow up and face facts? First of all, you can’t get out of this, and believe me, with what Sam Gates would do to you, you don’t want to try. Second, once you’ve served your time at the mine, no man is going to want you for a wife and mother anyway, including your husband, if by some miracle he should get past Sam Gates and find you. By the time you leave the mine, you will be glad to come back here and work for Sam. This place will seem like heaven by then. And you certainly won’t be a fit mother anymore for those babies you keep blubbering about. They’ll be better off left with those Cherokee women you told me would take care of them.”
Emma put a hand to her stomach and sat on the bed, shaking her head. “I won’t let them do that to me. I won’t!”
“You’ve got no choice.”
Emma felt a cold sweat moving over her entire body. River! He had to come soon! He had to! And until he did, she would find a way to avoid the horrors Joanna had described. If she had to die, then she would die. Even that would be better than letting some man cut her open and make her less a woman. Joanna was right: she would not be fit for River or her babies then. That left two choices. Find a way to escape, or die in the effort.
An angry pride began to well up in her soul, the same pride that had made her fight Tommy Decker and Hank Toole. She was River Joe’s woman! No matter what it took, Tommy Decker would not make it all the way to the mine with her. Somehow she would get away or force him to kill her. Even if she got away and died lost in the mountains, it would be better than going to the mine and letting a strange doctor cut into her.
The door opened and Sam Gates came inside the room. “Well, are we ready?” he asked, grinning and leering.
Emma made no reply. How she hated this man, even more than she hated Tommy Decker! How she prayed that River would kill this hideous man.
Now he moved closer, looking her over. “My, you certainly are the pretty thing Tommy said you were. And Lord knows I’ve seen everything there is to see.”
Emma looked away, wishing she were bigger, stronger, able to kill him herself.
“You’ll make a tidy sum for me at the mine, Emma,” he said, “and then you’ll be free to do what you want—go back to your squalling babies, or come back here and work for me. Life can be good here, can’t it, Joanna?”
Joanna met his eyes, seeing the threat there. “Sure,” she answered. She sauntered u
p to him and Sam put his arm around her. “A woman couldn’t have it better,” she added.
He grinned, patting her shoulder. “Well, you’ve done a good job with Emma here. You’ve finally learned to stop trying to help these girls, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Sam.”
Sam held her tighter, signaling her to stay put, while he began unbuttoning the back of her dress, letting it fall open to reveal the young woman’s back. Emma watched curiously, her eyes widening as each button began to reveal ugly whip scars from beneath Joanna’s shoulder blades down past the waistline of her bloomers.
“This is what happens to pretty girls who disobey me,” Sam said to Emma, a cold threat in his voice. “A few who have disobeyed me have never lived to tell about it.” He grinned again, rubbing his hand over the scars. “But Joanna understands now. She realizes I don’t like hurting my girls. I just have to make sure my requests are obeyed—keeps my business running smoothly. Do you understand what I am telling you, Miss Simms?”
Emma felt sorry for Joanna, even though the woman had become so cold and unfeeling. She wondered if Joanna had also started out as an innocent from the hills.
Emma met Sam’s eyes boldly, still determined to find a way out in spite of what she had just seen. “I understand,” she said calmly. “I understand the kind of man it takes to beat a woman into submission. You must be very proud of your accomplishments, Mr. Gates.”
His eyes lost their humor and his smile faded. “You won’t be so haughty after you’ve been to the mine,” he said. “And if you’re smart, you’ll do everything right so you don’t carry scars forever like Joanna.” He pushed Joanna away and stepped closer, standing over Emma like a black storm cloud. “I’ll keep my word about letting you go back, but only if you do what you are told.”
He suddenly grinned again, and Emma realized he was an unpredictable man with whom it was impossible for a woman to reason. “And I have a feeling you’ll realize by then it’s senseless to go back to your children,” he said. “Or your precious white Indian, if, indeed, he is still alive. No one will want you except men who buy women! Now finish buttoning your shoes. Tommy is waiting.” He turned away. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, being deliberately casual now, “part of cooperating with me includes accommodating poor Tommy. Let the young man have you and get it out of his system, will you? Don’t try to escape, and don’t fight him. If you do, it will be the same as fighting me. You already know what that will get you.” He smiled and bowed, leaving the room.
Joanna stood with her back still to Emma. “Button me up, will you?”
Emma blinked back tears, walking over to her and buttoning the dress. “River will come, Joanna, and he’ll kill Sam Gates,” she said. “Then you will be free.”
Joanna turned, laughing lightly. “Honey, I stopped hoping for that a long time ago. You might as well stop hoping, too. Your River Joe will never get near Sam. You’ll never see River Joe again. Start getting used to it.”
Emma detected a trace of tears in the young woman’s eyes. She said nothing more. She turned back and went to the bed to put on her other shoe. There was no more time to think about Joanna or to try to help her. She had to help herself now, and start thinking about how she could get away from Tommy Decker once they were away from Knoxville.
River crouched among the trees along a ridge overlooking Knoxville. He had never been to this big city, but he had been to enough other white man’s towns to know what to expect and how to behave. After all, he was white himself. As far as he knew, no one in Knoxville knew who he was. That was his only advantage, and he would have to take the chance.
He was going into white man’s territory, so he would be a white man. He had carefully avoided all other settlements, until he was well away from any who might know him. Then he stopped at a small town just yesterday, posing as a white man just back from a long hunt and needing a haircut and a shave. He had spent his last dime on a new suit of clothes.
His heart pounded with anticipation. He had never been this “white.” His hair was cut to collar length, and once he put on the fancy clothes he had bought, no one in Knoxville would guess he was anything but a visiting white man. He would bear no resemblance to the descriptions that applied to the one called River Joe. He could only pray to the Maker of Breath that his scheme would work—that he could walk right into the Tennessee Belle and no one would know who he was. He even practiced how to talk, carrying on conversations with his horses to practice getting a casual sound to his words, using the lazier contractions most white men used, such as don’t instead of do not.
Walking into the Tennessee Belle was going to be a great risk, especially if Tommy Decker was around. But he knew of no other way to get near the people who could give him some clue to where Emma might be. If he was lucky, she would still be right there in the saloon. The thought of her being taken there brought a rage to his soul so intense that it made his head ache. He would get her out of there, and kill Sam Gates and Tommy Decker, even if it meant doing it in front of everyone and hanging for it! Getting Emma free would be worth it. All that mattered was that Emma no longer be at the mercy of such men. He didn’t dare dwell on what might have happened to her by now, or he would become so enraged that he would lose all powers of reason. He must keep his wits about him.
He settled back to make camp. He had to think. He had to get ready. Even though it meant leaving Emma at the Belle for yet another day, he had to do this right, which meant waiting until the night, a more natural time for a man to enter a saloon looking for a good card game and a woman for the night.
He made a small campfire, then unloaded some of his gear, letting his horse rest. He had ridden a spotted gray gelding, bringing along a white mare as a pack horse. He had been careful not to ride a horse that might be familiar to Tommy Decker or anyone else who had ever known him.
He took his canteen and poured water into a pan over the fire. When it was heated he scrubbed his hands vigorously with soap, concentrating on the calluses. He would soak them later, for most of the night. They must be soft, like the hands of an educated gentleman, for that was how he would present himself to Sam Gates.
He sat down near the fire then, taking a mirror from his gear and looking at himself again. Never had he realized with such clarity that he really was a white man. The haircut and the mustache he had grown made him look entirely different. He doubted that even Tommy Decker would know him, especially when he put on the white man’s clothes. His greatest advantage was that they all thought he was dead. They would not be watching for him.
He wondered if Emma would like him this way, if she would mind the haircut or the mustache. The thought of her wrenched at his heart. Emma! Was she even still alive? Was she suffering, praying for him to come?
“Emma,” he whispered, his throat feeling tight. He closed his eyes, rising to his knees and throwing back his head. “Give me strength and wisdom, Esaugetuh Emissee,” he prayed. He bent his head to the ground then. He would spend the rest of the day praying to the Maker of Breath, who had led him to Emma Simms. Surely God had meant for them to have a long and happy life together.
“I got three reasons for makin’ sure you get to Sam’s mine, Emma,” Tommy said. He rode in front of her, leading her horse while Emma rode behind him, her hands tied to the pommel of her saddle.
This was their second day on the trail toward the mountain where Sam Gates’s coal mine was located, a five-day ride, according to Tommy. The first day he had been almost totally silent, and that first night he had not touched her or even come near her. Emma knew he was deliberately making her wonder when he would force himself on her, letting her feel the fear and dread. And she suspected he wanted to make sure there were plenty of miles between themselves and Sam Gates before Tommy let loose his wrath on her. Emma could tell that Tommy was as scared of Sam Gates as all the other people who worked for the man were.
But now Tommy was relaxing, letting his cockiness begin to sho
w. He was on his own, his own boss again. “For one thing,” he was saying, “Sam will have me killed if I don’t get you there. He already killed Deek, just for the worry that Deek would tell somebody all about this. He never did trust Deek too much.”
Emma stared at him in surprise. “Sam killed Deek?”
“Sure he did. Oh, he didn’t do it himself. One of his men did the job. Deek was found dead in his bed the next mornin’ after that night we brought you in. Nobody had to tell me what really happened. They said he died durin’ the night—choked on some food or somethin’. But I know what really happened. He choked, all right, by somebody’s hands.”
Emma frowned at Tommy’s seeming unconcern. “Wasn’t Deek your friend? Aren’t you angry with Sam?”
“Sure I am. Deek was my friend. But Sam pays me good and it ain’t good sense to go up against him. Deek always was slow and stupid. He didn’t know how to handle a man like Sam. I do.”
“By being his puppet?”
Tommy slowed his horse, turning to look at her. “You watch your mouth, girl. You’re gonna get your turn, you know. And you better cooperate like Sam said, or you’ll die just like Deek did. Don’t think I won’t tell Sam about anything you do wrong.”
She glared back at him. “You don’t scare me, Tommy Decker. And neither does Sam Gates. River will come after both of you.”
Tommy snickered. “He’ll never get past Sam. I ain’t worried.” He turned back around. “Anyway, the second reason is the pay I’m gonna get for takin’ you to the mine, and makin’ sure you serve your six months; and the third reason is the simple pleasure of watchin’ them miners take their turns with you. I’ll tell you one thing, Emma Simms, I ain’t sure which will be more pleasurable for me—gettin’ inside you myself, or watchin’ them men go at you.”
Emma clung to the pommel of her saddle, determined to keep her promise to herself to find a way to escape Tommy Decker or die. She would not go to that mine!
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