By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  * * *

  Something scurried in the darkness and Kate heaved a wooden bowl at it.

  "If that's a rat," Maggie said, "take better aim. We'll get the cook to roast it fer us. It would have to taste better than this salt fish and hardtack. This stuffs hard enough to drive nails."

  Kate shuddered. Even as a joke she didn't consider rats funny. The thought of eating one turned her stomach. She retrieved the bowl gingerly and examined it to see if it was cracked. If it wouldn't hold water, she'd be forced to drink from the bucket with her hands.

  Mentally, she counted the days since she had returned to the other prisoners, either nine or ten. The hole she shared with Maggie and four other women was somewhat smaller than Pride's cabin. She wondered if it had been stupid to insist that he send her here. What difference would a few more days as his kept woman matter?

  She bit at a ragged fingernail. Damn it, it did matter. Before, she'd thought they had something between them.

  Something—hell, face it! Love. She'd half... no... she'd fallen in love with Pride Ashton and proved herself the fool he accused her of being. She could not have stayed, trading her body for a few choice rations and a private cabin.

  He'd asked her to stay, with no strings. But she could not trust herself. The anger she felt over her own actions was nothing compared to the rage that blurred her mind when she looked at him. "I'll kill you if you try to keep me," she'd warned.

  It had not been easy to be accepted by the others. Only Maggie had welcomed her with an easy laugh. The women had called her whore and worse, but for once Kate held her tongue. She deserved whatever they labeled her. Pregnant Nell had been the loudest until Maggie gave her a sharp slap across the mouth.

  "You've no call to wrong Kate. You with a bastard in yer own belly! You'd not be fat and sassy with yer own teeth in yer head if she didn't get them Bennet boys to sneak us limes and biscuit from her own table. I don't doubt Kate went without some days to remember us."

  Nell had wailed and sniffed and glared but her comments trailed off. Then one of the girls from the compartment across the passageway took to sneaking off with the sailors, and gossip turned elsewhere.

  "Bill says we may be sighting land in a few weeks. He ain't half-bad for a tobacco-chewing man. Course I mean to have me a squire at least," Maggie confided, kicking a pile of straw into a passable bed. "Now when they put you up fer auction, Kate, you smile and look friendly, but not too friendly, lest they take the wrong idea. 'Twould be grand could we get a place together, but it's not best to count on such. We must find a way to let each other know where we be, luv. Yer me only friend in the New World. I'd not like to lose track of ye."

  "Or me you," Kate agreed. "But if you're going to catch a country squire, we've got a lot of work to do. Not luv, but my dear. My dear, you are my only friend in the Colonies." Mischief lighted the blue Storm eyes and Kate suppressed a giggle at her own proper King's English. "It shouldn't be hard to find you, Maggie. I'll just inquire for the lady of the grandest plantation in Maryland."

  Maggie grinned good-heartedly. "I'll do me... my best," she promised earnestly. "For I'm that serious, Kate. I mean to be a lady."

  "Listen to her," Nell scoffed. "Puttin' on airs."

  Maggie raised a clenched fist. "Shut yer trap, slut, or you'll land in Annapolis with two black eyes."

  Kate laughed. "A lady, dear Maggie, does not threaten other ladies with black eyes."

  "Jest pistols?" The two dissolved in laughter.

  Kate wished all their days could be so merry. But there were violent squalls that tossed the schooner like a matchstick. Water poured through the hatchways and moans of terrified prisoners filled the fetid air. The stench was unbearable as necessary buckets overflowed and even drinking water turned stagnant. Still, even the threat of Captain Reynolds was not enough to send her begging to Pride Ashton. She was here and here she would stay until they reached land or died trying.

  Somehow the journey passed. The dreaded tap-tap of the walking stick on the deck never sounded outside Kate's compartment. And then, after days of false hope, Jonas Bennet came to tell them that the vessel had entered the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay.

  "Wonderful," Kate breathed. "Will it be long until we dock?" Thoughts of a bath in something other than salt water were even more tantalizing than the prospect of fresh food.

  "The Chesapeake's a mighty body of water, a regular inland sea, with more ducks an' geese than ya ever seen afore. Fall comes, they cover the water like a carpet. They hunt whales in here, them what's got the nerve. Course I never seen one, but I hear tell. Them that lives along the shore never wants fer food, not with fish an' crabs an' such."

  "But when do we reach Annapolis?"

  "When the skipper's ready. Hours or days, jest dependin'. There's plantations up an' down the bay what pay fer cargo delivered. Don't know what the Marian's fetchin' from England. Shouldn't be long though. An' you'll catch sight of shoreline when they let ya up on deck fer air." He touched his forehead respectfully. "You're a real lady, ma'am. An' me and Bill want ya to know—" he broke off, red-faced.

  "We're proud to have knowed ya," Bill finished.

  "An' you too, Miss Maggie," Jonas finished.

  "And I'm proud to have known you," Kate answered. They had turned out to be more friends than jailers and she would miss the two brothers, ragged around the edges or not.

  Maggie was strangely silent that night. "I'm worried," she finally admitted when Kate pressed her for an explanation. "When that sellin' of the indentures comes, I'll do jest fine. Anybody can see I'm a likely wench. I'll end up on a farm or servin' in a tavern. But what about you? One look at you will tell them yer no ordinary prisoner. You can't cook. You don't know one end of a cow from the other. You're only good fer one thing, Kate. A man might choose you fer a fancy piece, but not fer his kitchen."

  "I can read and write, and I know horses. There are rules to protect a bound girl, you said so yourself." Kate touched her friend's arm. "You're not to worry about me, Maggie. Look out for yourself as best you can. Maybe Pride..."

  "No. Not him." She shook her head firmly. "He's too fine fer the likes of me. 'Sides, Kate, I wouldn't take yer man if I could get him." She threw her shoe at a rat scampering along the bulkhead. "Drat! Missed him."

  "He's not my man!" Kate protested.

  "So ye keep sayin'." Maggie retrieved her shoe and slipped it on. "No. What I'm lookin' fer is no lord. A squire will do just fine, and it don't matter to me how old he be. I wouldn't mind being a rich widow, you know." She grinned. "Wipe that scowl off yer face. I'd give good measure fer what I got. I mean to give my little ones a name they can be proud of. This ain't England, luv. I can do it here."

  "I wish you luck, Maggie." Kate put down the stocking she was trying to mend. "A girl with your looks and wits will do fine in the Colonies."

  "Pray God 'twill be so."

  For the first time, Maggie looked unsure of herself. Kate teased away her gloomy mood, and then lay awake through the night wondering on her own fate.

  Some time during the night they dropped anchor in Annapolis harbor. The long journey from England was over. But after the waiting and watching for shore, Kate found she almost hated to leave the familiar ship.

  Kate looked in vain for Pride as she and the others were brought on deck. Her legs trembled as she made her way down the narrow gangplank and onto the dock.

  It was more crowded than she had expected of a colonial port. The harbor was filled with ships, mostly British, but some flying unfamiliar colors.

  The prisoners were hurried down the dock to a brick building nearby. There, fresh clothing and bathwater was provided, along with the biggest meal the women had seen since they'd been sentenced. An aging apothecary gave each one a quick examination and then they were shown to clean quarters.

  Gratefully, Kate stretched out on the clean straw of her bunk, ignoring Nell's loud snores a few feet away. Just being ashore was heaven. She'd survived the voyage, but wha
t was to come might be worse than anything that had happened since she was first sentenced.

  The day passed slowly. Word circulated among the women that the auction would be held the following day.

  "In the courthouse square," Maggie said.

  Kate swallowed hard. She had seen cattle auctioned in much the same way at home.

  "Cheer up," her friend whispered. "It won't be so bad. Maybe yer friend, the Earl, will be there."

  Kate knew better. Pride was gone. He had promised her nothing, and that's what she had received. She'd been a fool to believe otherwise.

  At dusk, Jonas Bennet had come to the building where the women were held with Kate's trunk and belongings.

  "We're headed west tonight," he told her. "Pride said I'd best fetch ya yer plunder."

  "I don't want it," she'd protested. "I want nothing from that man."

  "They're yers and you'll be needin' 'em. Don't be hog-stubborn."

  The matron had frowned and put her hands on her ample hips impatiently. "If you don't want the trunk, girl, I know plenty who will," she said. The white starched mobcap bobbed up and down in time with her double chins.

  "She wants it," Jonas said. "They be hers, sent by Lord Ashton of Ashton Hall." He winked conspiratorially at Kate. "He'd take it amiss did someone take the girl's stuff away."

  "What do you take me for? I'm an honest goodwife. Be off with ya, ya woods riffraff. No one will steal the girl's things."

  By the following afternoon, Kate was glad she had taken the trunk. If she hadn't, she'd be sitting on the bare dirt like the others. Slaves had been auctioned off first, mostly field hands, and then the bondmen. Kate's fair skin was beginning to bum under the hot Tidewater sun.

  A girl from the inn across the way came with a tray of cider, offering a mug to each woman. Kate's mouth was parched. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "I have no money to pay you."

  "Paid fer already. Drink and welcome," the girl answered with a thick Cornish accent. "Yer standing where I was last summer. It ain't so bad. I'll be a free woman in another three years."

  Not me, Kate thought. What had the sheriff said? Twenty years? In twenty years she would be an old woman with gray hair, her life over. The cider was bitter and had an aftertaste, but the liquid soothed her dry throat. Who knew what cider was supposed to taste like in the Colonies?

  By the time the first of the women were called, it was growing dark. Torches were lighted and the crowd gathered closer. Kate's head felt light and her stomach queasy.

  "Do you feel funny, Maggie?" she asked.

  "No. Yer jest scared, that's all. Chin up, girl." Her friend winked. "Don't settle fer none less than a squire."

  "Step up! Step up!" the magistrate called. "Don't miss this chance to procure a fine servant! Every one guaranteed to be sound. No toothless and none feeble. Terms, seven to thirty years, a real bargain."

  "Tyburn fodder," an onlooker called. "Knife ya in the back some dark night."

  "No sir, not a murderess in the lot. Step closer, gentlemen, ladies. You'll not see a lot to match these lassies in the coming season."

  "I'm looking for a dairymaid," a woman called from an open carriage. "Are any listed?"

  He scanned the paper. "You're in luck, Mistress Longtree. Come forward, Nell, let the lady see you."

  "She's in the family way."

  "An honest widow, ma'am. You'd not hold that against the girl. Two for one and you'd have the child's indenture till it turned of age."

  Kate was hardly aware when Maggie was led away behind a grand carriage. Her own name sounded in her ears.

  "Kate Storm, over there, the brown-haired lass. Fair to be a lady's maid or child's governess. Real breeding. She reads and writes a fair hand. Who'll open the bidding on this young woman bound for twenty years?" He motioned. "Come up front, Kate, so the gentlemen can see you. Isn't she special?"

  Kate tried to stand and the earth moved beneath her feet. Something was terribly wrong. The cider... the cider had been poisoned.

  A bid was called from the rear of the crowd and then another. "She's not sick, is she?"

  "Guaranteed sound by the apothecary. Gentle breeding, I tell you, just having a case of nerves."

  Kate's hand went to her throat. She was unable to speak.

  "Did you find the cider sweet?" a harsh voice asked.

  Kate blinked. "No," she protested weakly. "Not you."

  Joshua Reynolds lifted his walking stick until it touched her chin. "Fifty pounds!" he shouted.

  "No."

  The captain's seamed face split in an unholy grin. "I'll have you, wench," he promised. "And you shall learn to dance to a new tune."

  "Fifty pounds! I have fifty pounds. Who will say seventy-five? Twenty years, gentlemen. This is truly an investment. Who'll say seventy-five?"

  "Sixty."

  "Sixty from Lord Terrance MacIntire. Thank you m'lord. Who'll say seventy-five?"

  The bid was met and raised. Kate struggled to maintain consciousness.

  Reynolds was so close she could smell his foul breath. He squeezed her arm viciously. "One hundred pounds!"

  "We have one hundred. Who'll say one fifty?"

  The crowd was silent.

  "One hundred, going for one hundred. Last chance. Going to Captain Joshua Reynolds of the Maid Marian for one hundred pounds. Going... going..."

  "Two hundred pounds." A giant in buckskins stepped from the shadows.

  "Two hundred, two hundred. Captain Reynolds? Going... going... gone! To the woodsman for two hundred pounds! That's coin, sir. No promissory notes on this purchase. You have hard money?"

  "Aye."

  The last thing Kate saw as she pitched forward in a faint were a pair of knee-high, bright beaded Indian moccasins.

  Chapter 7

  Kate's eyes felt like someone had poured sand in them and attempted to glue them shut. Her head was pounding and her stomach was doing flip-flops. Worse yet, the earth was still swaying. Not only shifting from side to side, but creaking. Creaking? It sounded vaguely like saddle leather. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the familiar outlines of a saddle. She breathed deeply and tried to clear her aching head.

  The unmistakable odor of horse filled her nostrils. She was on a horse! She opened her eyes. It was pitch-black but there were trees above and around her. She was riding through a forest and there were definitely other horses behind her. Was it a dream? No. Not she... they. She was sitting in front of someone on a horse. The image of Indian moccasins flashed across her mind, and then the memories came flooding back. The auction and the leering face of Joshua Reynolds... the bitter cider... an Indian. Her indenture had been bought by an Indian! She bit down hard on the inside of her lip to stifle a scream.

  Not daring to move and reveal to the savage that she was awake, Kate concentrated on clearing her mind. The smell of horseflesh was familiar and comforting. There were other odors, strange but not unpleasant. Was that the smell of Indian? She was riding in front of a man, a big man, her head cradled against his chest. Soft leather fringes brushed her cheek as he breathed. She struggled to see more of her surroundings, but it was so dark that the outline of the horse's head was no more than a suggestion. How could the rider possibly see where he was going?

  "Haven't you played possum long enough, Kate?"

  Kate's head snapped up, clipping his chin and causing him to bite his tongue as she spun around to stare into his face. "Pride?"

  "Damn it, wench." He struggled to control his rearing horse, hold her from falling off, and free his mouth of blood all at the same time. Half-sliding, half-jumping free, Pride landed in a tangle of underbrush with Kate on top of him. Loud guffaws issued from the trail behind them.

  "Ya been in England too long, Lord Ashton!" Jonas roared. "Ya forgot how to set a horse!"

  "Or hold on to a woman!"

  Pride cursed vigorously as he pushed Kate aside and climbed out of the bushes, reins still caught firmly in his hand. He spat again and felt his tongue with a finger
. "You're determined to make a mute out of me, aren't you?" Roughly, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

  Kate brushed leaves and stickers from her hair. "I didn't know it was you. I thought you were an Indian."

  "Who the hell else but me would be dumb enough to pay a year's profit from their land for a woman that can't even cook?" Pride soothed the nervous horse and swung up into the saddle. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here so I can pull you up. Or are you intending to walk?"

  Kate scrambled back up before him on the saddle.

  "Damn woman," he muttered, half aloud.

  Bill chuckled.

  "Where are we going?" Kate ventured meekly. As much as she hated this arrogant, insufferable colonial, anything was better than the depraved captain of the Maid Marian.

  "Home." He turned back to his men. "That's enough from you two."

  They rode in silence for hours. Despite Kate's efforts to stay awake, exhaustion overcame her and she fell asleep, safely held in Pride's tireless grip.

  She opened her eyes as he handed her down into Jonas's arms. "I'm awake," she protested.

  Jonas sat her on the grass and she sank down. It was just cracking daylight above the high trees. They had stopped in a small clearing beside a fast-running stream. Bill brought her a tin cup of water and she drank gratefully.

  "Don't wait on her; she's not a cripple. By rights, she should be waiting on us. I gave enough for her services," Pride said gruffly. He waved toward the stream. "Wash up if you want, but do it downstream from where we drink and water the horses. We'll stop long enough to cook a bit to eat. You can go off in the trees if you need to, but don't go far. I won't waste time looking for you if you get lost."