Tennessee Bride

by Rosanne Bittner

  “I’ll try the first part tonight,” Tommy said. “The time has finally come, Emma, honey. You know, you might have avoided all of this if you had given in to me way back when I first wanted you. I might even have married you, and then you never would have got sold off to Hank and got into all this mess.”

  Emma felt her pride and anger rising. “It was worth it just to see your crooked jaw,” she answered haughtily.

  He turned to look back at her again, his blue eyes like ice. “I’ll break that damned snotty pride of yours before this trip is over, Emma Simms.”

  “The name is Emma Rivers,” she answered proudly. “I belong to River Joe and you can’t change that, Tommy Decker! He’ll come and show you that himself before we ever make it to that mine.”

  Tommy snickered, turning back around. “I’ll change it plenty—tonight. Your River Joe ain’t comin’, Emma. When are you gonna face that fact? It’s all done now. I get my turn with you, and then the miners. River Joe will die and you won’t never see them little lice-ridden babies of yours again.”

  Emma struggled not to show her inner terror or doubts. She wouldn’t let it happen! She couldn’t! Somehow she had to get to Joshua and Rachael. River would want it that way. If he was dead… oh, God, he couldn’t be dead! Surely he would still come! He would find her out here before they reached the mine.

  She prayed a desperate, silent prayer to the Maker of Breath to help her find a way to keep away from Tommy. She had to think about survival. She thought of old Ramona’s words—“You are a strong and brave white woman.” She would live up to those words. After all, she was River’s woman. River Joe’s woman and no one else’s.

  They rode on silently for the next several minutes, while Emma desperately tried to think of ways to get out of her predicament. And she wondered how River could keep from being a hunted man if he did manage to kill Sam Gates and Tommy. Most people thought River was dead. If he could get rid of Sam and Tommy without being seen, he could be free! Everyone thought poor Jim Jackson was the man who had killed Hank Toole, so River was presently not a hunted man. If only there were a way she could tell him that. If he knew he was not wanted for murder, he would realize how much more important it was not to let anyone see him alive.

  Poor Jim. She and River surely owed the poor black slave something. Tommy had bragged about the whole affair. Jim had not mentioned her being on the boat, not until one of Sam’s men had tortured the poor man into admitting what he had seen.

  Emma’s heart ached to think of what Jim had been through. He was probably afraid to tell, for fear he would be accused of doing bad things to Emma. He must have hoped that if everyone believed Emma was not on the boat, nothing would happen to him; and perhaps Emma and River could escape being hunted by Sam Gates. But Sam had gotten the truth out of poor Jim. Emma did not like even to think about how he had done it. Then Sam had used Jim for a cover-up.

  She understood it all now. Sam had not allowed Jim to tell the truth to the public—that there was a white girl on Hank’s boat. He didn’t want people to know he dealt in the buying and selling of women like slaves. He had let the people believe Jim had killed Hank in order to escape, that Jim hoped the flood would hide his deed. Sam didn’t want Emma or River Joe brought into the picture. That way he could kill River and capture Emma without anyone knowing he was involved. He had allowed poor Jim to hang for Hank Toole’s murder, and, as far as anyone else was concerned, the whole matter was finished. That left Sam free to send men in search of Emma and River. There was no one else to know. Tommy had already told her Luke was dead from the flood. She felt guilty that she was almost glad about Luke. If only the flood had killed Tommy, too. Then none of the rest of this would have happened.

  Emma smiled inwardly at the fact that Tommy had spoiled the whole plan by not making sure River was dead. As long as River was alive, Sam Gates could not “own” Emma Simms free and clear. Sam could have let River and Emma go. With Jim being hanged for Hank’s murder, there was no reason to pursue River and Emma. But now that Emma had met Sam Gates, she understood his demented reasoning, his unrelenting hunt for her. Sam Gates was a selfish, cruel man who did not like to be crossed or cheated; and he apparently would go to any lengths to take what he considered belonged to him and to punish anyone who went against his wishes.

  That made Emma anxious for River. He would have to be so careful! Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe River would never get past Sam Gates. She could not forget the scars on Joanna’s back, the terrible cold and calculating look in Sam Gates’s dark eyes. It would take all of River’s skill and cunning to get anywhere near Sam Gates. And if he didn’t, it would be up to Emma herself to find a way to keep from being taken to the mine.

  She kept telling herself to stay calm, to think rationally, to be strong at heart. Night would be upon them soon. Tommy would make camp. If she were to escape, it had to be tonight. Not only was she determined never to go to the mine; she was determined that Tommy Decker would never touch what belonged to Joe Rivers.

  Chapter 23

  “I think we’ll make camp here,” Tommy said.

  The words cut into her with an ugly dread. They had ridden for hours in near silence, and Emma had found herself hoping against hope that night would never come. Tommy was his old, talkative, cocky self again, now that they were well away from Knoxville and Sam Gates. She was on her own now. River was not here to help her. She wondered how she could possibly get out of this, for she was weary and still weak, and everything ached from the long day’s ride.

  “You’re damned lucky I got orders not to mess up your face, Emma Simms,” Tommy said, “else you wouldn’t be able to talk right now. I’d love to slam you with a board like you did me and permanently knock that pretty jaw out of line.”

  He dismounted, tying his horse and walking back to her own and untying her wrists from the pommel. “It’s my turn now, Emma Simms, and I aim to take what I’ve had comin’ to me all this time!”

  Her jerked her down from her horse so hard that she fell. “You ain’t gonna get out of it this time, Emma,” he growled, his personality suddenly turning to its ugly side. That was what was so hard to figure with Tommy—the way he could suddenly change from almost decent to less than an animal. Emma scrambled to think how to handle him when he was like this.

  “I didn’t touch you till now ’cause I wanted you to think about it a good, long time,” he sneered. “You knew it was comin’, though, didn’t you?” He laughed as he grabbed her arms and dragged her to a small tree, where he retied her wrists. He leaned closer then. “I’m gonna break you, woman. After all that’s happened to you, you still got that damned pride. I can see it in your eyes. But when I’m through with you, that look will be gone! You just lay there and think about it real good while I unload the horses and make camp.”

  He got up and left, and Emma fought the panic that welled up in her soul. Think! She had to think! She remembered how he had almost backed off the day he took her from River when she faced him boldly and did not resist him. Perhaps her suspicion then was right—that he wanted her to fight, that it aroused him. That would be her first step. She would not fight back. If he still persisted, she had to think of a way to make him free her hands.

  She lay praying the whole time Tommy unpacked his gear and set up a tent. Dark clouds moved in to shroud an already-setting sun, and Tommy set an oil lamp inside the tent.

  “I aim to see everything that’s happenin’,” he informed her.

  He tethered the horses, then removed his weapons, coming to stand in front of her then while he removed his clothing. Apparently he was not even going to stop to eat first.

  She noticed then that he seemed uncomfortable as she calmly and deliberately watched him.

  “There it is again, that damned look,” he said. “You ain’t gonna undo me with that look, Emma, if that’s what you think.” He bent over and cut the ropes that held her wrists to the tree. “Come on. In the tent. It’s gett
in’ too dark out here.” He jerked her up and pushed her toward the tent. To her surprise he did not retie her hands. Apparently he trusted her fear of Sam to make her cooperate. “You remember the rules, Emma. You fight me, and Sam will make it real bad for you, leave scars on you that will never go away. He said to cooperate with me, so you better do it. If you fight me and even if you managed to run off, Sam’s men would find you, and you’d wish you would have just let me have what I got comin’.”

  He turned her and unbuttoned her dress, yanking it down over her arms to the waist, then pulling it the rest of the way off, bloomers and all. His eyes moved over her appreciatively then, his breath quickening at the sight of her.

  “Finally—you and me naked together,” he said then, his voice gruff with pent-up desire. “You remember Sam Gates,” he repeated. “This time you’ll cooperate or feel the whip when we get to the mine. You’ll be stripped down and whipped in front of all them men. Is that what you want, Emma?”

  She swallowed, still struggling to think of a way out, telling herself to stay calm. “No,” she answered quietly. She struggled against an urge to strike out at him. She realized she was not strong enough this time, and she had the babies and survival to think about—and River. River would come. And she was sure her suspicions were right—that fighting Tommy would only stimulate him.

  Tommy turned her and shoved her inside the tent, where the oil lamp burned brightly. Tommy pushed her down onto a bedroll, then straddled her, grinning, his face red with desire, his body actually trembling with the want of her.

  She lay still as he knelt over her and kissed her hard. She had only one hope, but first she had to gain his confidence. She did not struggle against the kiss. He finally stopped, rising slightly.

  “There now. You’ve been with a man before, so you know how much fun it is, don’t you? I can see you’ve learned a lot, Emma Simms. You’re smarter now. You might think your River Joe is comin’, which he ain’t. But you figure till he does, you might as well go by the rules and keep the sting of the whip off your back, huh?”

  “It’s not that, Tommy,” she said. “I just… you never kissed me that way before. I’ve always hated you… and yet I… I’ve always wondered, too. Now I’ve got no choice and I realize… it’s almost exciting, knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I’m scared of Sam, Tommy. I won’t fight you, as long as you promise not to tie me or anything.”

  His look of surprise was almost humorous. He snickered, sitting up slightly. “You bein’ straight with me?”

  “I don’t have any choice, Tommy. We both know that. And I’m too weak to fight you anyway.”

  He laughed like a surprised little boy. “By God, I think you mean it! Ol’ Sam must have really put the scare in you. He sure knows how to break down the proud ones.”

  She put her fingers to his lips, struggling against her revulsion at touching him. “I saw Joanna’s back. And now that you tell me Sam had Deek killed—” She let her eyes tear, knowing he would love to see her cry. “I have no choice. You’ve won, Tommy. If River was coming, he would be here by now. He must have died, or else he doesn’t care anymore. Don’t let Sam hurt me, Tommy, please.”

  Tommy just stared at her, then came down closer again, rubbing his chest against her breasts, pressing himself against her. “This is more like it,” he said. He kissed her again, a hard, cold, tasteless kiss, then suddenly jerked back, an angry sneer crossing his face.

  “You bitch!” he hissed, getting off her and plopping down on the ground next to her. “I ain’t used to you this way and you know it. I like some life in my women, some fight.”

  She sat up, wanting to laugh. It was working! “Don’t you know anything about gentleness, Tommy? If you would just be good to me, we could run away together—forget about the coal mine. I won’t fight you anymore, Tommy, if you’ll just take me away someplace and not take me to the mine.”

  He studied her closely, then clenched his fists. “Sure! And have Sam Gates on our asses! He’d kill me for sure and you know it! That’s what you want, ain’t it? You want Sam to kill me, and then maybe you’d still find a way to get out of the whole thing. That’s what I hate about women! They’re schemers and liars! And they spread their legs for any man who will do what they want.”

  “That’s not true, Tommy.”

  He grabbed her by the hair, jerking her close. “The hell it ain’t! I got orders to take you to that mine, and that’s where we’re goin’! And before we get there I’m gonna get what’s comin’ to me!”

  “Then take me!” she replied boldly, meeting his eyes squarely. “Take me and get it over with!”

  He just glared at her, devastated that for some reason he could not perform in this most crucial moment. Of all the women he had been with, this was the last one he wanted to see him this way—unable to be a man for her! He shoved her hard. “Bitch! You bitch!” he screamed. “I could kill you! If it wasn’t for Sam Gates—”

  He sucked in his breath, his immature temper getting the better of him. “The hell with Sam Gates,” he growled. He grabbed her arm, jerking her close and then bending her left arm up behind her back. “A broken arm don’t leave no scars,” he growled. “And that’s all Sam told me—don’t leave no scars. That doctor at the mine can set this arm when we get there.”

  She screamed with pain as he began bending it farther. His frustration over being unable to rape her vented its fury through a desire to physically hurt her some other way. In desperation Emma bit hard into his chin. He let go just slightly, and their position in the tent was awkward. Emma used the moment, catching him just slightly off-balance. She pushed him, and he fell sideways, stumbling into the oil lamp. It toppled from the crate, and with a splintering crash, burst into flames.

  Tommy screamed as flames spread rapidly from the floor, along his back and legs, then quickly engulfed the nearby blankets and lapped at the walls of the tent. Tommy’s body jerked oddly, and he seemed suddenly to be confused in his terror and pain.

  Emma whimpered at the horrible sight and darted out of the tent, backing away, sure Tommy would come charging out at any moment wanting to kill her, but in what seemed seconds the tent was consumed in flames, and Tommy had not come out. She could hear his screams, see movement as he flailed around wildly inside the burning tent.

  Tears of horror welled in her eyes as the tent collapsed. She backed away farther as the heat from the fire became too intense near her skin. She ran over to the pack horse with the sound of Tommy’s almost inhuman screams ringing in her ears. Tommy Decker was getting what he deserved: the Maker of Breath had helped her again.

  She forced herself not to look, told herself not to give in to the insane panic that threatened to overtake her. She had to think, to continue being logical, to survive. She tore through the supply bags on the pack horse until she found her clothing. She pulled on some bloomers, trying to keep herself going despite the sound of Tommy’s screams, which were now turning to gruesome groans. She pulled out a dress and put it on.

  Why didn’t he die? Why didn’t Tommy just die and stop screaming? She could not find it in her heart not to wish his death. He was the cause of so much of her heartache, the cause of her suffering and being separated from her children. And if River was killed, that, too, would be Tommy’s fault. If he had not taken her away in the first place, River would not have to go after her.

  Her heart pounded wildly as she pulled on some shoes and found a wolfskin jacket. She refused to look toward the tent, but she heard the flames dwindling now, and Tommy’s groaning had almost stopped. She moved quickly, locating bags with food in them, pulling Tommy’s musket and powder from his supplies. She wanted to take a horse. That would be much easier. But a horse left big tracks and would make it easy for her to be followed. Once Sam Gates found out about this he would come for her. But maybe River would kill him before that happened. Then somehow… somehow River would find her before she died in these mountains.

&n
bsp; She looked up at rising peaks. Somewhere up there were the Cherokee, her friends, her family, her babies. She would get to them. She would not let these mountains defeat her. She had learned a lot when she traveled through them with River. She had even killed a wild boar! She could survive, and she would, for River would come, and they would all be together again.

  She finished packing all that she could possibly carry, wishing she were stronger. As soon as she was far enough away that she thought she might be safe, she would have to take a few days to rest, to get stronger. And a little farther off, after she had gone far enough that Sam Gates’s men could not find her path, she would start leaving a trail for River. Only River was a good enough tracker to find her light footsteps and other signs to follow her away from this camp. Farther ahead she would start making it easier for him, leave him clues, so that he could find her even more quickly.

  “You… bitch!” she heard Tommy mumble then.

  Her blood ran cold, and finally she turned, gasping at the collapsed and still burning tent, and the blackened form of a man that lay in front of it. The only thing she recognized were the cold blue eyes, their whites seeming even whiter against his burned skin, his lips looking redder, his teeth whiter as he glared at her.

  “Sam… will get you,” he moaned. “He’ll… burn you alive… like you… did… me.”

  His head dropped and he lay still. Even if he was not dead, he surely soon would be. She thought for one brief moment about trying to help him, the softness in her still alive, in spite of the way this man had treated her. But she had to concentrate on just one thing—survival. She had to get as much distance between this campsite and herself as possible now, in case Sam Gates did come for her. Someone might have seen the fire. Someone would come to investigate, and would then go back to Knoxville with the news. Sam would realize what had happened. She could only pray that River would get to Sam Gates before Sam Gates got to her.