“You all know who I mean,” Tommy added. “Where is River Joe? I ain’t leavin’ here with his woman and him on my tail. No sir. And how come that man over there come out of her cabin with her and shoved her at me and said he’s done sleepin’ with her? River Joe would never allow that.” He turned his eyes to Emma. “Or did that white Indian get tired of you, too?”
Real tears slid down her face. It was not hard to cry; the thought of having to go with Tommy Decker, of having to leave poor River behind, and her babies, was all she needed to bring the tears.
“River is dead,” she said to Tommy, her mouth still bleeding. She spat out some blood, her jaw aching fiercely. “He was attacked by a bear. Infection killed him.”
Tommy studied her hard, but he saw no hesitation in her eyes and noticed no faltering in the words. He slowly dismounted, coming closer and grasping her arms. “Come on now, Emma Simms, you can do better than that.”
She felt like vomiting, being so close to him again, feeling his hands on her. How she wanted to fight back again, to fight and fight until he killed her! But no matter what he did to her, she could not fight him. She had to live, for her babies. River would come to her and she would come back to her babies. They were all that mattered—Rachael and Joshua—and the baby growing right now in her belly.
“It’s true,” she answered. “Ask any of them. River is dead, and Peter—that man who shoved me out of the house—he took me in. I…I had to sleep with him because he provided for me. That’s the Cherokee way,” she lied, knowing that men like Tommy Decker knew nothing about Cherokee ways. “But he doesn’t really care about me. When he heard you shouting for me, he shoved me out the door because he doesn’t want to get hurt over me.”
He squeezed her arms painfully. “I seen you with two babies earlier. What about them?”
“They…they’re mine…by River. Please don’t take me away from my babies, Tommy. Peter is cruel to me, but I have to stay—because of my babies.”
He snickered, looking her over. He moved one hand to grasp one of her full breasts, feeling over it, grinning, deliberately humiliating her. “I don’t give a goddamn about your babies,” he sneered. “Me and the rest of the boys here, we’ll take care of your extra milk.” He looked back at the others. “Won’t we, boys?”
They all laughed. “Gladly,” Deek answered, making a sucking sound.
Peter struggled desperately to appear unconcerned, but Grace and Mary both turned away, Grace putting her arm around Mary, who started to cry harder. Emma just glared at Tommy, bearing his ugly insults by glorying in the fact that she just might fool him and get him away from River. When River came for her, he would make Tommy Decker pay for his despicable actions.
Tommy jerked her closer, moving a hand to run it over her bottom. “God, girl, you sure do things to a man, even after two babies. I reckon pretty soon I’ll find out if them babies got you all stretched so you ain’t no fun no more. Maybe that’s why the young buck there don’t want you now. Is that it?”
Emma stiffened with pride. She was River Joe’s woman. She would not be afraid. How many times had he told her not to be afraid of anything? Courage now could mean saving his life. “You wouldn’t have been enough for me even when I was a virgin!” she sneered.
Tommy lost his smile, and those Cherokee who understood English were astonished at the bold remark, and proud of the white woman River Joe had married. She was indeed brave. Tommy grasped her long, blond hair, jerking her head back.
“You’ll regret that, Emma Simms!” he hissed. “Oh, yes, there are a lot of things you’ll regret.”
He moved back while keeping hold of her hair, and she screamed out as he pulled her around in a quick circle, then literally tossed her, sending her scraping across the rough ground.
“Now!” he shouted. “Let’s have the truth before I rape all the little girls in this village and burn every house! Where is River Joe? Somebody is lyin’ here! I ain’t gonna leave here with that goddamned white Indian skulkin’ behind me!”
“You stupid, foolheaded, ignorant white man!” Ramona screamed at him, trotting her frail, withered body away from the others and shaking a bony finger at Tommy. “Does red hair on a white man mean he has no brains? Do you have trouble understanding your own language, Unega?”
“Shut up, old woman!” Tommy screamed back at her, as Emma again struggled to her feet.
“River Joe is dead,” Ramona said convincingly. “Ask any of these people. I doctored him myself. I am the medicine woman for this village. White men cannot take infection like the Cherokee. River Joe was attacked by a bear and he died!”
Emma broke into tears, tears of horror that she hoped Tommy would think were tears of sorrow.
“That River Joe—he said he killed a man and stole a white girl. That stupid white girl, she liked River Joe—had his babies,” Ramona went on. “She stayed here willingly. Then River Joe died—left that damned white girl with us to take care of—her and two babies. But we don’t want her, understand, redheaded Unega? Take her! Take her away! She is just a burden. But leave her babies. They are healthy. We will raise them to be good Cherokee and to help us hunt and survive. We will make them marry into the Cherokee tribe so there is no trouble. That is what we tried to do with River Joe, but he brought this white girl to us. She is nothing but trouble.”
The old woman threw up her hands, walking over and kicking dirt and stones at Emma. “With River Joe dead, we want this girl away from us!” she shrieked. “Take her and be gone! We want no trouble over a stupid white girl! We Cherokee have enough troubles!”
Tommy stared at her. Emma sat crouched and weeping—weeping with love for Ramona, who she knew was only trying to hurry Tommy along and keep him from searching the cabins. Tommy nodded slowly.
“All right, old woman. I don’t think an old bitch like you would lie.”
Ramona toddled back to Tommy. “I had no use for River Joe once he started going down into the valleys and running with other whites. He was not a good Cherokee after that. Then he came back with this pitiful excuse of a woman who is now a burden to us. Take her away! Go! Go! Do you think if River Joe were alive, he would just let you take her away? If he were alive he would be out here defending her. That was his nature. But none of our men is going to defend a white woman, so take her and be off with you!” The old woman’s voice was amazingly strong. She then trotted away, mumbling to herself.
Tommy watched after her, then scanned the rest of the Cherokee who had gathered at his command. Yes, the old woman was right. If River Joe were alive, he would never let this happen. He walked over to Emma, jerking her up and pushing her toward his horse. “Get up there! We got us a long trip ahead of us, and an enjoyable one for all my men, you can bet on that!”
Deek snickered as Emma managed to mount Tommy’s horse. Tommy mounted up behind her, pulling her gown up and tucking it under her bottom so that her legs were fully exposed for the other men.
“We got us a fine prize here, men,” he said. “Sam Gates will pay you well for hangin’ in there with me and helpin’ me find her.” He ran a hand along her inner thigh and up over her breasts. Emma stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Mary or Grace or Peter or any of the others; refusing to think about River lying under the bed, unaware of what was happening to his Agiya; refusing to think about her precious babies lying asleep in the cabin, unaware that their mother was leaving them, perhaps never to return.
“Let’s go, men!” Tommy let out a war whoop and rode off, followed by the seven other men. Emma allowed herself to rejoice inside that at least he believed River was dead.
She had saved River and her babies! She knew Mary and Grace would take care of them. And River Joe would get well. He would get well, and he would come for her! But until then, she would have to find a way to bear the horrors of Tommy Decker, until River Joe’s blade found its way into Tommy Decker’s heart.
Chapter Twenty
The summer night was alive with tree frogs
and all sorts of insects. Emma remembered other nights like this—on the trail, sleeping under the stars or in a tent. But those nights were spent with River Joe, safe, secure, loved, lying in his strong arms. But River could not help her now.
Tommy had ridden for miles, taking most of the day. All along the way he showered Emma with every insult he could think of, joking about how her breasts, full with milk, bounced with the horse’s gait.
He left no doubts about what he would do with her once they made camp, and she had to be grateful to the other men for one thing—they all complained that they should cover as much ground as possible by nightfall. All of them were eager to get back to Knoxville. That kept Tommy from stopping long enough to hurt her, until now, until the night.
As she listened to them talk, Emma realized just how determined Tommy had been this time. Apparently he had been on the move since spring, constantly searching. The men often mentioned how far they had to go to get to Knoxville, and she realized with every mile they covered that if River really did die and did not come for her, she would have no idea how to get back to her babies, how to find the Cherokee again.
They were all she had now. Her babies, River, Mary, Grace, Peter, and the others. The Cherokee were her family now. Never had she known such love or such courage in a people. She felt like crying over old Ramona, who had put on such a good act. The old woman had saved River’s life, Emma was sure. And poor Peter, shoving her around, pretending he didn’t care.
They had all done their jobs perfectly. She smiled inwardly at the thought of how surprised and frightened Tommy would be when she finally told him the truth. And she would tell him, once they reached Knoxville. River Joe wasn’t dead at all! She felt like shouting it, and she wished she could tell Tommy now, but it was too soon. She had to get a lot of time and miles between them first. River needed time to heal.
She concentrated on Rachael and Joshua and River, her beautiful family. Would she ever see them again? The possibility was shattering, but not as shattering as if Tommy had found River and the babies and killed them in cold blood. Thank God for Ramona’s sharp order to leave the babies with the Cherokee. The old woman knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how to handle a man like Tommy Decker, if he could be called a man at all.
“Hold up!” Tommy shouted then, startling her from her thoughts. She had concentrated only on those she loved, and on the hope that River Joe would come for her. It was the only way she could bear the hard ride and the horrible insults and touches. She wished she could nurse her babies, for her breasts were painfully full.
Tommy’s shouted halt brought her back to reality, and the discomfort returned not only to her breasts but to her aching jaw and teeth. Still, the pain was easier to bear than the terror in her heart.
Tommy was stopping to make camp for the night! How could she let him do what he surely had in mind to do without fighting him? For the sake of the children, she knew she must not fight Tommy Decker. She had to stay healthy and alive. Tommy would surely beat her without mercy if she fought him.
If only they were alone like the first time; she would find a way to fend him off just as she had then. But this time he had the advantage. He had all these other men with him to hold her down, all of them probably planning on having a turn of their own. She struggled against an urge to vomit. “Let’s make camp here,” Tommy ordered the others.
A few men grumbled that it was too early, but they all dismounted. Tommy jerked Emma down from his horse. He turned her, looking down at her breasts, his leering smile slightly crooked.
“You ready to feed your man, Emma?” He leaned down and growled as he nuzzled against her breasts, and she fought an urge to gouge out his eyes. She knew it was what he wanted her to do, knew his temper well enough to realize that if she hurt him, he would beat her, maybe to death, for his rage would be uncontrollable. He had vengeance on his mind, and for the moment he would take it this way, through humiliation rather than a physical beating.
He laughed, pushing her against his horse and reaching inside her flannel gown to feel her breasts, calling her a milk cow. She had no idea how she was going to live through this, and she prayed to the Maker of Breath to give her courage and help her know what to do. What hurt more than anything was for another man to touch her, and there would probably be more than one man before this ordeal was over. She wanted River Joe to be her only man. She belonged to River. He was her first man and she never wanted another to invade what belonged to River. But she didn’t know how to stop what was happening. She knew only that she wanted to live, to get back to her children, to be in River’s arms again. But after this, perhaps he wouldn’t even want her.
Tommy straightened, keeping hold of one of her arms and studying her curiously. “How come you been so quiet?” he asked, licking his lips. “Last time I even tried to touch you, you like to killed me. Now you just stand there and do nothin’. What happened to all the fight in you, Emma Simms? That Indian you been sleepin’ with beat all the life out of you?” He snickered, suddenly appearing nervous.
She raised her eyes to meet his, suddenly losing all her fear and dread. River had told her so many times not to be afraid of anything, and suddenly she was not afraid of Tommy Decker. She saw in that quick moment a hesitation, and she realized he was more put off by her calmness than if she fought him.
Perhaps he wanted a fight. Perhaps that was what excited him and made him want her more. After all, most of the girls Tommy Decker had been with were women who didn’t even want him—poor, helpless Cherokee girls, young girls he bullied or beat his way into raping.
“I don’t care about anything now that River is dead,” she answered him. “He was the only man I ever really wanted.”
She saw the hatred and jealousy grow in Tommy’s eyes. He jerked her close. “Well, he is dead! And now you’re finally mine, at least until we get to Knoxville. You want to know what’s gonna happen to you there, bitch? I’m turnin’ you over to a man called Sam Gates, and I’ll make a pretty penny doin’ it. And when Sam gets hold of you, you’ll be wishin’ you was with me! It won’t be just Tommy Decker who spreads your pretty legs and has a good ride with you. It will be a different man every night, maybe more than one a night!”
Emma swallowed back the black dread. Maybe River would get to her in time. This she could bear if she absolutely had to, but to do what Tommy was telling her now…
“You always thought you was too good for me, Emma Simms, keepin’ yourself pure for somebody else. Maybe River Joe got you first, but that don’t mean I can’t have what I’ve been wantin’ for years. And it’s a good thing River Joe is dead, ’cause if he wasn’t, we would have finished the job ourselves. Better yet, we would have brought him back to Knoxville for a real pretty hangin’, for killin’ Hank Toole. Fact is, maybe you’ll hang yourself,” he lied, enjoying frightening her.
Emma paled, struggling against the horror of his words. “What are you talking about?”
He grinned. “You run off with him, Emma—willingly, it looks like. That means you went along with the murder of Hank Toole.”
“Hank was beating me, trying to rape me! River came and…I had no control over what he did.”
“But you run off with him anyway. You should have stayed put, Emma. Then folks would have believed you. But now…” He shrugged. “We’ll let Sam decide what to do with you.” He enjoyed the way she trembled. Why bother telling her Jim Jackson had already been hanged for Hank’s murder? Let her think the worst for now. Maybe it would make her more cooperative. “Might be you’ll have to agree to be Sam’s little whore. Him and me, we can keep you out of trouble, or we can hand you over for a trial and a hangin’. A trial could be messy and ugly, Emma, honey. All them questions right out in public about you and River Joe—your sex life—you bein’ with the Cherokee—sleepin’ with a Cherokee man who wasn’t even your husband. Fact is, River Joe wasn’t even your legal husband, not by white man’s standards. You was just a whore for the Cherokee, Emma. Whi
te folks at a trial ain’t gonna look kindly on a slut.”
She checked her anger. Deek Malone stood close by, grinning. “Why don’t you do what you’ve been wantin’ to do and get it over with, Tommy?” he asked. “I want my turn.”
Emma felt her stomach churning. Did Tommy mean to let every man there rape her?
“I want her to think about it awhile,” Tommy answered. “She hates my guts. Now she’s got to think about the fact that Tommy Decker is gonna have his turn at her, and he’s gonna do everything else he can think of.” He kept his eyes drilling into Emma’s. “I’m gonna know you inside and out when I’m through with you,” he said, leering as he moved his hands over her shoulders and breasts, down over her waist, suddenly ripping down her gown so that she stood naked in front of all of them.
“Whooee!” one of the men shouted, while others made ugly sounds and comments.
“You was right, Tommy,” another said. “She’s a looker all right. Hard to believe she’s had a couple of kids. Ain’t no woman I ever seen naked who had a couple of kids who looked like that. You make sure I’m second after you.”
“Deek is second,” Tommy answered, grinning at Emma the whole time. “I promised him. But you can be third, Len.”
“Well, get busy then.”
Tommy stared at her, still looking a little nervous over the way she just stood there staring at him. “Get the camp set up first,” he answered. “Put up my tent and build a fire.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her toward a tree. She stumbled over her gown, which was caught around her feet. She fell, and he half-dragged her then.
Every bone and muscle in Emma’s body ached from the long day’s ride and the emotional strain of her ordeal. She prayed again for some kind of miracle that would stop all of this. Tommy tied her wrists to an overhead branch so that her arms were stretched up.
“That should hold you till I’m ready for you,” he said. He stepped close to her then, grasping her bottom. “There’s only one reason I ain’t beatin’ on you, Emma Simms. There’s nothin’ I’d love more than to displace that jaw like you did mine—beat you till nobody can recognize you, use you like a damned punchin’ bag and keep at it till you’re dead!” he hissed. “I’ll never forget what you did to me. But I’m holdin’ off, and only because I want the money Sam Gates will pay to get you back. I don’t reckon he would like me bringin’ in a corpse, or a woman so beat up she’s permanently ugly from it. I’ve got to bring Sam Gates the pretty woman he’s expectin’, but I’ll by-God make you pay in other ways—ways that don’t show on the outside! And I’ll make you wish I beat you instead!”
The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition) Page 29
