“She’s plumb wore out, pore baby,” Dorcas murmured. “She needs about three days’ sleep just to catch up, Mr. Dupre. Cain’t we get her a place to rest?”
“About the best I can do is a couple of horse blankets over a little hay,” Armand answered, with a wry twist to his mouth. “Not much of a cot for someone used to featherbeds and fine linens.”
“She’s slept on worse and not complained,” Dorcas assured him. “In fact, she’s such a brave little thing, she never complains about nothin’, no matter how bad off we are.”
“Well, let me see what I can do about a pallet for her, and maybe one for you, as well, mam’selle.” Armand started to ease Lucienne back to her chair.
She struggled to sit upright. “No, I don’t want a bed,” she said, a sleep-drenched note of contradiction in her voice.
“No, chèrie? What is it you want then?” Armand bent down to hear her reply, her voice barely above a whisper.
“A bath,” she murmured. “A real bath. Can someone get me a bucket of water?” Fortunately sleep claimed her before she registered the shout of laughter that met her request. For one brief moment ironic mirth drowned out the sound of gallons of rain sluicing over the old hideout.
“A bucket of water,” Armand chuckled. “In the middle of a flood she asks for a bucket of water.” He glanced at the girl crumpled in sleep, a tender expression filled his eyes. “I’ll go find that horse blanket. We’ll see about her bucket of water when the storm has blown over.”
Chapter Eighteen:
Renegades and Reptiles
The first thing Lucienne realized when she woke was that the wind had finally stopped. No howling shook the timbers. A glorious silence surrounded her. The next thing to register in her waking mind was that no water was leaking through the roof above her head. The storm had blown itself out. In the same instant, the fragrance of cooking tickled her stirring senses. Her stomach rumbled a frantic demand. Lucienne was a healthy girl with a substantial appetite, and food in any decent quantity had been in short supply for days.
She sat up, trying to see the source of that enticing aroma. A grey-and-green curtain improvised of ragged horse blankets hung between her crude bed and the rest of the dusty room. Lucienne didn’t remember that fabric wall from the night before. She untangled the impromptu bedding and started to get up. One edge of the curtain moved, and she saw Dorcas peeking around the edge of the blanket.
“We was talkin’ about eatin’ without you, since it looked like you might sleep till dark.” She set a wooden bucket beside Lucienne’s rumpled pallet. “Mr. Dupre said as how you wanted water.” She shoved the bucket closer with one foot. “He slipped out when the wind died down last night and fetched you this bucket of rain.” She held out a narrow sliver of soap to Lucienne. “It ain’t good soap like you’re used to. It’s what Mr. Dupre uses for his shavin’. But it might get the top layer of grit off.”
Lucienne took the soap with gratitude. Even if it took her skin off, even if it was as harsh as Sister Mary Agnes’s lye soap, she’d feel better. The mud and grime must be ground into her flesh by now. But the enticing smell of food stopped her.
“You’ll save me some?” She gestured toward the room beyond the curtain.
“While you’re washin’, I’ll fix some for you. Mr. Dupre’s right handy at stalkin’ down dinner. He’s got two fat ducks in there cooking. There’ll be a feast for all of us.”
“Armand? He went hunting?” Lucienne tried to fit that into her mental picture of mundane Armand and wondered if she knew him at all.
“I ’spect that man can do a lot of things you ain’t credited him with. Good thing he did get those birds. Mort’s no good with a gun, and Orman’s just plain useless till his leg heals up.”
Lucienne wriggled her filthy dress over her head. “What did happen to Orman? And how did Armand ever find us?”
Dorcas took the dress from Lucienne. “Orman got throwed from his horse while he and Mr. Dupre was coming after us. Storm spooked the critter. Mr. Dupre tracked down Pa and found out you were out here. Pa wouldn’t even try to get us out, but that husband of yours made Orman guide him in. Orman ain’t smart, but he could see Mr. Dupre wasn’t takin’ no for an answer. So they lit out in the rain on an old Indian trail, comin’ overland, tryin’ to beat the storm. They got almost to this place when the wind hit. Orman’s horse went a little crazy and bucked him off. Orman, big as he is, he don’t land like a downy feather. Stove up his leg pretty bad. Your husband got him inside here, but they couldn’t go one more step without the wind tearin’ ’em to pieces. They had to lay up here till things got quiet.”
Lucienne tore a strip of dangling hem from her dress and dipped it into the bucket. Soap and water felt marvelous on her gritty skin, even if the water was cold and the soap abrasive.
“I can’t imagine Armand taking chances like that. He’s not the rustic type.” She scrubbed the green streaks from her arms. “But Mort was the one who came out with Armand. How did he get into all this? I thought he’d run out to save his own hide and left us.”
“Mort’s head don’t work too fast, Miss Lucy Ann, but he’s not such a bad sort as we thought. He mulled all day over some way to get us, all three of us, out of danger. He finally lit on the idea that there might be a boat hid up here. River pirates used the place for ages. It made sense to him that there might still be a boat around the place, just for emergencies like hurricanes and such. So he started walkin’ up this way, long about dark. It took him all day to think things through, y’ see, but he did try to get us away. Don’t know why he didn’t just bring us along, but then, like I said, that feller ain’t the swiftest man God ever made. As it was, he got here just a little afore his brother and Mr. Dupre. Seein’ Orman wasn’t fit to ride, Mort took his place soon as the wind dropped. We was plumb lucky they managed to get through the muck in time to bring us back here.”
Still mulling the facets of Armand Dupre that didn’t fit her image of him, Lucienne finished her minimal bath. Wrapping herself in the smaller of the horse blankets that covered her bed, she used the rest of the bucket of water to wash out her battered dress and chemise as best she could. Nothing would ever make them clean or fit to wear, but scrubbing did remove the streaks of mud and surface grime. The blue of the dress, more faded now than ever, disappeared completely in some parts of the skirt. The hem she’d so carefully put up hung in scallops where the stitches had ripped loose. And, of course, the hank she’d torn out to use as a washcloth glared like a missing tooth. But it was cleaner, and that satisfied Lucienne. She didn’t feel the grit of dirt against her skin when she ran her fingers over the bodice. It no longer reeked of the bayou. Lucienne spread the dress and chemise to dry over the rope holding up her curtained wall, tucked her coarse wool kimono around her, and wished she had a comb.
“Think you’re ready for dinner?” Dorcas put a willow stick ornamented by oddly shaped pieces of browned duck in front of her. Lucienne took it with both hands and buried her nose in the aroma.
“I don’t know how you managed to cook this bird, but it smells like heaven.” She bit into a succulent chunk.
“Not me, Miss Lucy Ann, though I’d like to take credit for it. It was that man of yours. Mr. Dupre, he put a spit across that old fireplace and roasted those birds just like he was right at home. He’s some gent, that Mr. Dupre. Don’t know why you don’t take to him. He’s sure got most men I know beat seven ways to Sunday.”
Lucienne was too busy licking the tips of her fingers to reply. She didn’t care who had provided the meal; she intended to do it full justice.
“I got somethin’ to tell you, Miss Lucy Ann.” Lucienne had finished her second piece of the bird and could put her mind to something besides her hunger.
“What’s happened now? Not more trouble, I hope.”
Dorcas looked decidedly uncomfortable, glancing away and squirming on the improvised bed. “I don’t rightly think it’s trouble,” she began. “It just may be a little un
expected for you.”
“What do you mean, Dorcas? Unexpected? My whole life has taken unexpected twists for so long, I wouldn’t know how to manage anything else.”
“You remember me tellin’ you that Mort came up here looking for a boat?”
“I remember. You said he was going to try to get all three of us out ahead of the storm.”
“Yes, and it turns out he was right about the boat.” Dorcas nodded to emphasize his success. “There’s a boat, a little one, stuck under the rafters in the barn out there. Him and Mr. Dupre found it early today when they were checking around to see how much damage the storm did.”
“A boat?” Lucienne failed to see where Dorcas was heading with her wandering talk.
“Yes’m, a pretty good little boat.” She drew a deep breath and plunged on. “See, it’s like this, Miss Lucy Ann. There’s not but the two horses. And Orman can’t ride or walk. Him and Mort have family further up the bayou, and they’re gonna take the boat and head that way. I’m goin’ with ’em. Mort can’t take care of hisself, much less Orman and his banged-up leg, and there’s no tellin’ what kind of trouble they’ll fall into. So I’m goin’ along to see after the two of them.”
“Oh, Dorcas, don’t leave me here alone! I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Lucienne cringed at the thought of making the trip back to New Orleans alone with Armand.
“Now, Miss Lucy Ann, you ain’t alone, not by any means. You’ve got a husband out there who’ll take fine care of you. And he’ll treat you right, if you just give him a chance. He’s a good man. And you’re not so very helpless yourself. You got a head on your shoulders. I never saw anybody who could do better when things start goin’ all wrong. You two will make it home just fine.”
Lucienne struggled to find an argument to change the girl’s mind. What was she thinking, going off with those two lumbering morons? “What about your papa, Dorcas? You said he needed you, and he’s all you have in the way of family.”
Dorcas pursed her pretty lips. “I did say it, and I’d stay with him through thick or thin iffen he done right. But he didn’t even try to come with Mr. Dupre. He knew the storm was comin’, and he knew we had precious little hope of ridin’ it out. He wouldn’t risk comin’ to get me. So he made his choice, and now I’m makin’ mine. Pa’s done some fool things, and once in a while he’s done some bad things. I made excuses for him ’cause Ma went off and left him when I was just a baby. Seemed like he went all to pieces with her gone. But I cain’t make no more excuses. Pa gambles ’cause he cain’t stop. He drinks to forget how much he loses and how scared he is. That’s terrible hard, but I cain’t fix it for him. And he left me to die out here, to be torn to bits by that awful wind, not takin’ one step to save me. Mort tried, in his slow, blunderin’ way, to make things right. Least I can do is go along and see him and his brother have good meals and clean clothes. And keep ’em out of trouble. They’ll listen to me, Miss Lucy Ann.”
It sounded brave and silly and gallant as Dorcas put forth the plan. Lucienne saw she had no chance to talk the girl out of the venture. In her heart, she could even understand how Dorcas had reached such a decision. Life with a gambler, especially one like Price who didn’t have the means to support his addiction to begin with, could only be miserable. The Jessups, in many ways almost childlike, would benefit from her care and experience. Dorcas would go, and Lucienne would remain behind to face the trail back to New Orleans with a husband she now realized she didn’t know at all.
“If you ever get to New Orleans, will you come to see me, Dorcas? I want to know how you are.”
The weary girl reached out to take Lucienne’s hands in both of hers. “Now, that wouldn’t be fittin’ at all, would it, Miss Lucy Ann? What would folks say, a ragtag girl like me callin’ on a fine young lady like you? Just think how people would gossip. And besides, I don’t rightly know where you’ll be, once you get back to town and settled.”
Lucienne didn’t have an answer to that herself. “I’m not sure where I’ll be, but you know where Grandmère’s house is. You come there; she’ll tell you how to find me. And I don’t want to hear any more about what people will say. Chances are anything they say about you will be mild compared to what they’ve been saying about me these last few weeks.”
“Then, iffen it don’t embarrass you, I’ll come. Don’t know how long it will be, but keep certain that I’ll come. And if you change your mind and decide it’s not the right thing to do, just say you’re not home, and I’ll not bother you again.” Dorcas squeezed her hands and Lucienne thought a tear glittered in the wide blue eyes. “It’s good enough that you thought to ask me, after what I done to get you into this mess.”
“I won’t change my mind, Dorcas. I vow I won’t.”
****
The travelers put off leaving till the next morning, to let the bayou waters recede a little more. Standing outside the battered barn doors to wave as the little boat slipped along in the current below, Lucienne had trouble believing the storm had ever happened. Without the evidence of broken branches and uprooted trees, she’d have thought the whole incident had been a nightmare. The sky glowed a burnished blue, as if the horrible winds had only given it a good polishing. Birds and other wildlife began to make cautious inroads into the willows and oaks bordering the stream downhill from the old pirate sanctuary. The breeze that tickled the leaves and teased her hair had nothing in common with the shrieking monster that had terrorized her only two days before. Puddles and a muddy trail were all that remained of the torrents of rain. Lucienne stood lost in thought as the little boat flowed along with the stream till it disappeared around a finger of marshland.
“Chèrie, be good enough to stand very still.” Armand’s voice was low, but it carried an iron note of command. “You have a rather unpleasant viper about two feet to your left. It appears he is sleeping, but I don’t think I care to trust him. Do not move.”
Lucienne, too startled to respond, froze to her spot. She barely drew a breath. A second later, though it seemed a good many minutes longer, the unmistakable crack of a long rifle ripped through the morning. The snake, cross-banded with wide olive-brown stripes, opened its pink-white mouth. Alerted by some movement, it was poised to strike as the rifle shot tore the head from the patterned body. Lucienne watched in unmoving fascination as three feet of deadly reptile rolled over the edge of the riverbank and disappeared in the flattened reeds below.
“You aren’t bitten, chèrie,” Armand said, his hand resting on her shoulder. “It’s all right to move now. The little pest is gone.”
“Little pest?” Lucienne answered with a shaky laugh. “I’m glad it was only a little pest, not a major threat.”
“Many threats hide in the dark spots in this place. A cottonmouth like that little one is as deadly as an alligator. And we’re too many miles from help.”
Lucienne gulped back the sour taste in her mouth. “I appreciate your timely arrival once more.”
“Eh, bien, Chou-Chou, I hope not to make a career of finding you in life-threatening perils.” He turned her toward the barn. “You were sorry to see Dorcas go, I know. I’m not sure I understand that, since she was responsible for you being in the clutches of a hurricane.”
“She did what she had to, that’s all. She had a loyalty to her papa that he apparently didn’t have for her. She meant me no harm. I’m sorry to see her go. I don’t know what kind of life she’ll have with those Jessups, but I suppose it won’t be any worse than the life her papa would have made for her.”
“Indeed, it may well be far better.” Armand pulled open the screeching door between the barn and the shuttered room beyond. Lucienne covered her ears. The sound was too near the cries she’d heard of wounded and dying animals during the storm. She hurried into the dim room to escape the nerve-racking noise. Armand followed closely. “We must talk, Chou-Chou, and plan our journey back to town. You need to know what has been happening in your absence.”
“Oh, not now, Armand. I ca
n’t bear to think of things at home.” She turned away from him, not willing to hear of the scandal she’d created. “Since you came riding up during the hurricane, I feel like I’m with a total stranger. I don’t know this man who dresses like a wild man from out of the West and carries a rifle and pistols all the time. The Armand I knew was a dandy in well-tailored coats and elegant cravats. He talked business with Papa and flattery to me. Who is this new Armand?”
Arms folded across his doeskin shirt, this Armand she didn’t know stood silent, his head tilted, mouth drawn half in amusement and half in annoyance. Finally he pulled two chairs up to the scarred table. “Sit down, Lucienne, and we will try to explain ourselves to each other. Your question is reasonable since we are man and wife, at least in the eyes of the rest of the world.”
Her chair rocked on uneven legs. Lucienne moved it farther from Armand’s and gingerly sat down. This wasn’t a discussion she wanted either, but it was better than dealing with their immediate future.
“I am a man of business affairs. How can I be otherwise?” Armand gave a Gallic shrug. “My father’s business, as well as the future of a good many families along the river, depends on my being fairly good at managing fortunes. I find I must spend more time than I like traveling, procuring ships, and finding buyers for the cane sugar we produce. A great deal of money changes hands. That money, entrusted to me for your family, friends, and neighbors, is in my possession in some rough and uncivilized places. You can see that it’s better for me to blend into the background than to stand out as if saying, ‘I’m carrying gold, come take it.’ This garb, while not the epitome of fine tailoring, gives me the invisibility I need. As for the rifle and sidearms, chèrie, I assure you I carry them because I have to. And it’s well that I can use them with some skill.”
Bal Masque Page 22
