The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)

by Bittner, Rosanne

  Two days. If they held him here overnight, it would be two whole days before he could get back down to Emma’s. Hank Toole would most certainly reach her first. The only way to hope to catch up would be to find a way to escape after dark.

  In the distance Hank Toole hurried people along, anxious to get to the rest of the settlements before the river got any higher. None of them knew he was even more anxious to get to Emma Simms. The trip back to Knoxville was going to be a pleasant one, and Sam Gates would be very happy with the pretty blond-haired merchandise Hank was bringing along on his return trip.

  Darkness fell, and the small MacBain settlement quieted. The one and only tavern in town was full of men discussing the possibilities of their fellow Tennessee native, Andrew Jackson, running for president, and what he might do to help get rid of the Cherokee. Arguments turned from the presidency to whether the river would crest before it washed away the whole settlement, and Tommy Decker drank with his father and several friends, bragging about facing up to River Joe.

  Outside, rain came down steadily again, and the streets ran with mud.

  “River’s risin’ even more,” one of River Joe’s guards spoke up. A man stood at each corner of the shed where River Joe was being held, local settlers watching him in shifts. His weapons had been taken away and put with his gear.

  “I don’t like it,” the second man answered. “This whole village is gonna get washed away. Seems like it’s just one storm after another.”

  “Why don’t you let me go?” River Joe said then. “The Jasmine left hours ago. I can’t get far in this rain anyway, and I did nothing wrong in the first place. Let me leave now. You men should be watching your homes and families. That river is going to get higher than it has in years.”

  “Sorry, River Joe, but we all decided,” one of them answered.

  Laughter and shouts could be heard then, as four young men came stumbling out of the tavern and through the rain toward the shed.

  “It’s that damned Tommy Decker again,” one of the men complained. “I can tell by his laugh. That boy’s gettin’ to drinkin’ too much. That’s probably why he got throwed from that horse of his.”

  The two men laughed, and River Joe was immediately alert, rising from the bench he had been sitting on.

  “Just relax there, River Joe. We’ll send him on his way. He’s probably pretty drunk by now—been over there drinkin’ with his pa and friends.”

  Tommy stumbled into the light of a lamp then, wearing a cape and hood against the rain, holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “How you doin’ there, Ben? Keepin’ a good eye on the bastard Indian there?”

  He and his buddies all laughed, the other three not wearing anything against the rain. They stood with their hair dripping wet, all of them staring at River Joe.

  “Why don’t you get out of here, Tommy?” said the one called Ben. “You’ll just make more trouble.”

  “Tell him! Tell him, Tommy!” said one of the other boys. They all laughed again, pushing Tommy toward River Joe.

  River Joe watched him carefully, wishing he could kill the boy right then and there with his bare hands. Tommy swallowed some whiskey and stood on wavering legs, leering at River Joe.

  “Hey, Indian,” he sneered, leaning closer. “I got somethin’ to tell you that’s gonna make you laugh.”

  They all snickered again and the two guards pushed at the other three. “Come on, Tommy, get out of here,” Ben repeated.

  “You shut up!” Tommy whirled, fists clenched. “I gotta talk to River Joe here. I got somethin’ to tell him, Ben. You owe my pa money, so shut up!”

  Ben reddened some and just stared back at the young man, keeping his musket steady on River Joe. The other boys snickered more and Tommy turned to River Joe.

  “Guess what my pa told me tonight, Indian!”

  River Joe said nothing, waiting for Tommy to continue, ready to defend himself if the boy tried anything.

  “I found out that I can go down to Knoxville in a few weeks,” Tommy continued, speaking more clearly now that the whiskey had dulled the pain in his jaw. “And I can get into Emma Simms anytime I want—for the right price! All of us can!”

  The other boys laughed hard then, one making lewd gestures and howling.

  “Let me at her!” another yelled.

  Never in his life had River Joe had to struggle so mightily to stay in control and look unconcerned. “I do not know what you mean,” he said carefully, “nor do I care.”

  Tommy snickered. “The hell you don’t. You wanted to get into that pretty blond girl’s pants yourself. Only my pa says Luke has plans to sell her—to a man in Knoxville who buys pretty little mountain girls to use at his, uh, tavern. Only they do more than serve drinks.”

  Another young man howled and swallowed some whiskey, and River Joe felt desperate to get out of that place fast. Emma! Was Tommy telling the truth? Of course he was. It all made too much sense. That was why Luke wanted to see Hank Toole once more before deciding what to do with Emma. He folded his arms, gauging the situation, continuing to look unconcerned.

  “Luke is her stepfather,” Tommy went on. He turned to the two guards. “Can you believe it? I done told Luke I lost my interest in Emma for a wife. She’s too damned uppity and independent. So ol’ Luke up and sold her. Hank Toole has the pleasant job of pickin’ her up and takin’ her to Sam Gates—that’s the man’s name down in Knoxville.” He laughed again, taking a slug of whiskey. “Ol’ Sam will break her, and she won’t be so uppity anymore. Then me and my friends are goin’ down to Knoxville and have us the best time we’ve had in years. I can’t wait to see the look on Emma’s face when she sees me walk in and tell her to strip down.”

  They all laughed, and the two guards looked at each other. “I don’t believe it. Would Luke really do that?” Ben asked.

  “Sure he would!” Tommy answered. “He’s sellin’ the farm, and he ain’t got no use for the girl. Why not get a little money out of her?” He turned to River Joe. “And I bet ol’ Hank Toole will give her a try on the way there. That big braggart is always lookin’ at the women.”

  River Joe’s dark eyes drilled into him. “If you have to go to Knoxville to get into bed with Emma Simms, after she has been beaten and probably drugged, it does not say much for you as a man, does it?”

  The others quieted and Tommy straightened. “What did you say, Indian?”

  “You heard me. You could never get her any other way.”

  Tommy gripped the whiskey bottle tightly. “How would you know?”

  A faint grin moved over River Joe’s mouth. “I know more than you think. I even know what really happened to your face.”

  Tommy stared back at him in surprise, hesitant at first, trying to figure out what this man knew.

  “What’s he talkin’ about, Tommy?” one of his buddies asked.

  Tommy began literally to shake. “What are you sayin’, Indian? You been talkin’ to Emma Simms? You been with that girl?”

  “All I’m saying is that you are a coward, Tommy Decker. A coward and a liar! You aren’t even man enough for the whores, let alone decent women.”

  “You bastard!” Tommy growled. He swung the whiskey bottle, but River Joe deflected the swing with his arm, at the same time bending a knee and kicking hard into Tommy’s privates. The young man cried out in agony, bending over, and River Joe’s left fist came up hard under his jaw, landing a blow that made a snapping sound and jerked Tommy backward. He fell into Ben, knocking the musket sideways just as it went off. The musket ball went astray and lodged in a piece of wood, the shot muffled by a loud clap of thunder so that people inside nearby buildings heard nothing.

  In what seemed a split second, River Joe pulled the knife he kept hidden in his knee-high moccasins, and he was waving it at the others.

  “Shoot that musket if you want,” he said to the other guard. “But I guarantee I will throw this knife directly into your heart before I go down!”

  The man hesitated, and
the other boys just stared, then bolted and ran. Tommy lay seemingly unconscious at Ben’s feet, blood pouring from around several broken teeth in his mouth and a badly bitten tongue.

  “Both of you know I have done nothing wrong, and I have hurt neither of you,” River Joe said to the guards. “Now let me go!”

  Ben and the other guard stared, and the second one finally lowered his rifle. “I ain’t takin’ on the likes of you,” he said to River Joe. “Get goin’. We’ll tell them Tommy started it. It’s stormin’ too bad out tonight for anybody to care about chasin’ after you anyway, but you better never show up here again, Indian.”

  Joe moved cautiously past the man, still waving his knife. He backed over to his horse, which was tied with his pack horse next to the shed. He eased up onto the big roan gelding and turned it, taking up the reins of his pack horse and shoving his knife back into his moccasin, then rode off into the darkness.

  Ben and the other guard looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I could just about feel that blade movin’ into my gut,” Ben said.

  “Me, too.”

  “Let’s get Tommy over to the doc. The dumb kid deserves what he got.”

  Both men bent down to pick up Tommy.

  “What do you suppose River Joe meant when he said he knows how Tommy’s face really got hurt?”

  The second man shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “You think it’s true—about Luke sellin’ that pretty little stepdaughter of his to Sam Gates?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Poor girl.”

  The second man grunted. “This boy is right heavy, ain’t he?”

  They carried Tommy out into the rain and down the street to a doctor, while River Joe rode hard. The Jasmine would reach Luke’s place by morning. Even at a hard ride, River Joe would be lucky to get there by midafternoon. Every moment counted, and now he could only pray the Jasmine would somehow be forced to slow down. Emma! He had to get to her!

  Chapter Six

  Emma hurriedly finished her chores so that she could clean up and be ready. Every day she made sure she was clean, her hair washed and combed, for River could come for her at any moment.

  Four days had gone by, four very long, lonely days. This was the morning of the fifth day. It had rained almost constantly the last two days, and as she ducked about now in yet another storm to do her chores she watched the trees for River. She had spent her nights curled up into her pillow, thinking of nothing but that night in the shed, a night that somehow didn’t even seem real. But the spot of blood on her bloomers had been real. To Emma it was only a symbol that she was now River’s woman.

  The bleeding had quickly stopped, and she wondered how easy it was for a man’s seed to turn into a baby. That part scared her. She had seen her mother lose so many babies, then die when she finally had one. Would that happen to her if she got a baby in her belly? And if she lost babies like her mother had done, would River still love her? Maybe he would be angry with her and turn ugly like Luke had done. Maybe he would grow to hate her.

  She stopped scattering chicken feed and stared over at her mother’s grave, the flowers she had put there all wilted now. She put a hand to her belly, realizing suddenly that more than anything on earth she wanted to give River a baby, be the wife he needed, do all she could to make up for the wife he had lost. But having a baby brought terror to her soul. She decided she would have to pray to the Maker of Breath that she could carry a child and would live to nurse it and raise it, for she would love that baby more than anything on earth.

  Now that she had known love, real love, had felt this wonderful feeling, had been held gently in the arms of one who cared, she realized how much love she had deep inside herself to give. Love was so beautiful! Now she knew why Mrs. Breckenridge always seemed so happy. There was nothing in the whole world more wonderful than being loved, and to have someone to love in return!

  She walked over to a large sow that lay in the mud nursing new babies, so many that there were not enough teets for them all. It had stopped raining again for the moment, and Emma took time to bend down and pick up one of the babies, feeling how fat and soft it was, wondering what it must be like to hold a real human baby to her breast, a baby who was her very own, River’s child, planted in her belly and coming back out of her. Her eyes teared at the thought of how awful it would be to lose a baby.

  She rubbed the little pig’s belly, wondering what River’s first wife had been like. Was she beautiful? She must have been very dark. Did he like Emma’s own light skin? But of course he did. He had said so. He had admired her golden hair.

  She felt a flush of warmth at the memory of the way he had gently caressed the hairs between her legs, saying that they too were the color of cornsilk. She could hardly believe she had let him touch her in the ways he had, let him look at her. Thrilling desire rushed through her at the thought of it.

  She set down the piglet and turned to finish feeding the chickens, so glad that at least during this time while River was away, Tommy had not come by. Luke had not even mentioned the young man. And Luke had decided to mend a few fences and straighten things up as best he could in order to try to sell the farm. That kept him busy and away from her. She had not felt his fist at all these last four days.

  She was not afraid now of Luke’s threats to sell the farm and hand her over to Tommy. She was afraid of nothing now that River had made her his woman and promised to come back. He would never let anything bad happen to her.

  Thunder rolled in the distance. Another storm was coming. She turned and watched the river, which had never been so high. It was nearly halfway up to the cabin now. All the animals had moved up with it, and sometimes Emma saw a washtub or a piece of fencing and occasionally a drowned animal go floating by.

  The river was still her biggest remaining fear. The waters were high and rushing fast now. Luke said he wasn’t worried at all. “That river would never reach this cabin,” he kept assuring her. “I’ve lived here a long time, Emma, and I ain’t never seen that happen.”

  She looked up at the black clouds. It seemed as though it rained every day lately. And it rained so much that the water could not soak into the ground; it simply ran off the top, into the rivers. Everything was damp, even inside the cabin. The animals didn’t seem to mind, especially the pigs, who rolled and played in the mud in sheer ecstasy.

  The river made a roaring sound now, rather than its usual gentle murmur. How much more could it rain without the river coming right up to their doorstep? If it got any higher, whole settlements were going to be washed away.

  Her heart tightened. River! What if there was a tremendous flood, and River got caught in it. What if something happened that he could not get to her after all?

  She set down the pan full of seed, and several chickens gathered around it, clucking and pecking at their food. Emma watched the trees again. This fifth day was the first time she had begun to feel doubt. It seemed impossible that River could have been fooling her, could have tricked her in order to lie with her. Had he done what Tommy wanted to do, only used kindness to get it instead of brutality?

  No. River would never do that. He was too honest and open. His eyes, his touch, his kiss, his wonderful warm embrace, all were too filled with sweet love. She would have known. She would have sensed if he didn’t really love her, wouldn’t she? But what did she know about men? Nothing! Nothing but brutality and trickery. River had come in the night, stolen what he wanted, then left, with promises to come back.

  The thunder came again, and she fought a building panic, telling herself it was simply the rushing river and oncoming storm, and all the horror and loss she had suffered lately, that were bringing on these feelings of doubt and fear. She told herself to remember love, to remember the Maker of Breath and all the things River had told her about not being afraid. He would come. He had promised.

  She heard several toots then, and her heart leaped. The Jasmine! It was coming! River
had said he would come when the Jasmine came, or soon after! She ran to the cabin to wash her face and change her dress. She must be ready! Her gunnysack was all packed, shoved under the cot.

  “Emma, go get yourself prettied up,” Luke shouted to her. “I want you to look nice when Hank gets here.”

  She stopped and stared at him a moment. He stood grinning by a fence he had been nailing. She frowned, an unexplainable fear creeping into her heart. Luke had never told her to get “prettied up” for Hank before. And why was he grinning like that?

  She looked around the surrounding trees again. River. Where was River? Surely he would come anytime now. He had told her that he loved her. She would trust in that love.

  The Jasmine tooted its whistle again, and she went inside to wash while more black storm clouds gathered and the rain began to fall lightly. She hurriedly washed her hands and face and changed her dress, then brushed out her hair. Luke would ask Hank in for bread and honey and coffee, like always. She would give Hank some fresh wild strawberries she had found. Hank and Luke would get some trading done, and Hank would leave.

  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.