"We'd better drag the boat over there behind those trees," he said, "and then we'd best hunt for shelter."
"Bound to be a cave or gully or somethin'," Randolph replied, taking hold of one side of the boat.
They dragged the boat toward the trees. The haze had vanished entirely. The dark opal light continued to spread over the dark gray sky. The water was dark gray, too, faintly tinged with green, perfectly still it seemed, barely lapping the shore. Not a breeze stirred, the air pressing down with almost physical force, so sultry I could feel sweat beginning to dampen my dress between my shoulder blades. I removed my cloak and took the bundle from Corrie, tying the cloak around it.
"It's going to storm," she said. "It's going to storm bad."
"How can you tell, luv?" Em asked.
"I seen it like this once before, when I was with Miz Henrietta. We was on the plantation near the coast and the air stopped breathing and everything grew still like it is now. The sky turned dark, like now, and there was that funny purple light. Mister Dale, he was the foreman, he got us all down into the storm cellar quick."
Em sat down on a piece of driftwood, spreading her pale blue cotton skirt out, revealing the ruffled petticoats beneath, "Just what we need," she said wryly, "a bloody storm,"
"It was a hurricane, Miz Em. It done—did ever so much damage, uprooted trees and picked houses up and blew 'em away. There was a tidal wave, too, and land was flooded, shacks and chicken coops under water."
"I'm feeling cheerier and cheerier, luv. Keep talking."
The men returned. Their faces were grim indeed. Jeremy Bond stepped over to the edge of the water and slanted a palm across his forehead, peering up and down the .shoreline, looking for another rowboat.
"No sign of 'em," he told Randolph. "I'm worried, Randolph. Those waves were pretty choppy, and there're a lot of rocks in these waters. The fog was so thick you couldn't see a foot in front of you."
"Them boys aren't stupid, lad. When the goin' got rough, they headed for shore, probably a lot sooner 'n we did. They'll turn up."
"I hope so. I feel responsible for those men."
"I know, lad, but right now we gotta worry about our own skins, and judgin' from the light I don't reckon we have a helluva lot of time to dally."
"You're right, of course."
Those blue eyes, usually so merry, were dark with concern as he turned to us. He was wearing tall brown boots and a pair of tan corduroy breeches that had faded to a light pinkish-orange. Beneath the fringed brown buckskin jacket he wore a thin white cotton shirt opened at the throat. An orange-red bandana was knotted around his neck, ends flapping over his lapel, and a leather holster hung from his belt, the butt of his pistol pushing the tail of his jacket up at one side. He bore very little resemblance to the foppishly attired dandy I had known in New Orleans.
"Are we going to have a hurricane?" Em asked.
"We're likely to have a bit of wind, a spot of rain," Randolph told her, "but don't you worry your pretty little head about it. We'll find us some place snug and cozy, and you and I can get to know each other better."
"That won't be any treat for me, luv, I can assure you. I've rarely seen an uglier lout in all my born days."
"You're joshin' me, gal. I'm as good lookin' as they come. Why, the women fall all over me, can't fight 'em off."
Em got up from the piece of driftwood and picked up her bundle. "There's no accounting for taste," she snapped.
Dick Randolph grinned. With his square jaw and broad, flat cheekbones he was far from good-looking, but there was a merry curl to his mouth and his dark brown eyes were merry, too. Thick golden-brown hair flopped over his forehead in unruly waves, and there was a tiny crescent-shaped scar at the corner of his mouth, pale pink against his tan complexion. Tall, lean, powerfully built with massive shoulders, he exuded brute strength and casual self-confidence. I suspected that his easygoing amiability could be quite misleading to any enemy he might encounter.
"Come along, gal," he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "We'll lead the way."
Em sighed and put on a martyred expression that fooled no one, Randolph least of all. He gave her a tight squeeze and led her toward the trees. Corrie picked up the bundle tied up in cloaks and followed them. I turned, looking at Jeremy Bond with a tight feeling inside. I knew he was terribly upset about the other men, and I felt it was all my fault. If it hadn't been for me, they would all be safely in New Orleans at this very moment. Although neither Jeremy nor Randolph had voiced it, I was sure both of them considered it likely that one or both the boats had either crashed on the rocks or capsized in the heavy fog and tumultuous waves.
Jeremy seemed to read my thoughts. He stepped across the sand toward me and took my hand.
"It's going to be all right, lass," he said quietly. "The men are probably heading for shelter at this very minute, probably rowed to shore as soon as the fog grew thick."
"How many men were there?"
"Ten—no, nine, Gates was killed on the island. They're all right. We'll meet 'em at the cove as soon as this storm blows over. That's a nasty bruise you've got there on your jaw. How does it feel?"
"It doesn't hurt much. It's a little sore."
"And your throat?"
"I'm fine, Jeremy."
"I should never have let you go back to the house."
"I insisted. Remember? I was quite stubborn about it."
"You were stubborn, all right. Lippy, too, if I recall."
He smiled. It was a beautiful smile that made something melt inside of me. I looked up at his handsome face, the slightly twisted nose saving it from being too handsome, too perfect. I wanted to place my finger over that deep cleft in his chin, wanted to run my fingertips over those broad, smooth cheekbones. His rich, unruly brown hair was thick and silky, spilling over his brow, his eyes so very blue, so vivid and lively, filled now with feeling I had so rarely seen in the eyes of any man.
"I—I never thanked you," I said.
"Matter of fact, you didn't."
"Thank you, Jeremy. I had just about given up hope."
"You should have known I'd come. You should have known I'd eventually find out what happened and come for you."
"I never thought I'd see you again. After that night in the gardens I didn't think you'd give me another thought."
"I meant everything I said that night, Marietta."
I didn't reply. I didn't want to discuss it, not yet, perhaps not ever. I was grateful to Jeremy Bond, more grateful than words could ever express, but I had no intention of deluding myself that the gratitude I felt could ever develop into anything else. He was charming, yes, looking at me now with tender blue eyes and a softly curving mouth, virile in his buckskin jacket and faded corduroy breeches, the red-orange bandana tied around his neck, but I wasn't going to succumb to that charm, that potent male allure. I intended to keep my guard up at all times, for my own protection.
Once again, he seemed to read my thoughts. His smile widened, and he shook his head, eyes atwinkle.
"You intend to fight it, I see."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said stiffly.
"Ah, lass, you're exasperating, the most exasperating female I've ever encountered, but fortunately I'm a patient man. With a lass like you a man has to be patient—or else resort to rape."
"I'll sleep with you, Jeremy, if that's what you want."
My voice was cold and deliberate, my manner aloof. He didn't like that at all. His mouth tightened, and there was a glint of anger in his eyes. For a moment I thought he was going to strike me.
"You will, lass," he said sternly, "but of your own accord, because you want it as much as I. I shan't take advantage of you—of your gratitude, nor shall I press you. I'm going to make you see what's in your own heart, and when you do, you'll come to me without hesitation."
"That day will never come, Jeremy."
He looked at me for a long moment, and I met his look with a level gaze, my chin held high. I
had long since pulled my hand from his, and I reached up to brush a heavy copper-red wave from my temple. He clearly wanted to say something more, but he instead sighed heavily, turning to glance up at the sky.
"I shan't argue with you, Marietta. We haven't the time right now. It's going to start blowing like hell in.just a few minutes, and we've got to find shelter."
He took hold of my elbow and led me toward the trees, holding me loosely but firmly, guiding me around a clump of driftwood. His moment of anger had passed, and our conversation might never have occurred. He was completely relaxed, moving in that long, bouncy stride that I had some difficulty keeping up with. The beach was soon behind us and we were moving quickly through the trees. The ground was wet and spongy, giving beneath our feet. This was marshland, cypress and willows in profusion, the whole area, as I was to discover, riddled with small lakes and narrow, greenish-brown rivers that snaked sluggishly along, twisting in every direction.
We soon caught up with Corrie and Em and Randolph. Randolph had Em's bundle slung over his shoulder, one arm curled around her waist. The bundle still rattled noisily. I wondered what all she had managed to snatch up in those frantic ten minutes before she hurried to the gardens. Corrie trudged along calmly behind them, still wearing a stoical expression. I relieved her of my bundle and gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back, but her heart wasn't in it. She was so exhausted she could hardly walk, no doubt still reliving the nightmare of that final hour on the island.
We waded through a river not more than twelve feet wide, the water no higher than midcalf, willows lining it thickly on either side, and, beyond it, the land began to slope upward somewhat. We passed a large clearing with long wooden poles driven into the ground in circular clusters, pulled together at the top to form oval frameworks. Sheets of mothy animal skin hung over part of one of them, and I realized they had been huts, in the center of each framework there was a deep hole surrounded by rocks and filled with charred wood. The clearing was littered with dried gourds and strangely shaped vessels and pots covered with a rocky white substance Jeremy identified as asphaltum, but by far the most striking sight was the enormous pile of shells. It must have been at least ten feet in circumference and seven feet high at its highest point.
"Jesus!" Em exclaimed, holding close to Randolph. "What—what is this place?"
"Karankawa village," he replied, "or at least it was until a short while ago."
"Karankawa! Aren't they the cannibals!"
"Don't get yourself all riled up, gal. They're gone. The Karankawas are a migratory tribe, rarely stay in one spot more 'n a few weeks at a time. They move about from place to place, stay as long as the food is plentiful, and when it begins to give out they pick up and move again."
"What are those shells?" she asked.
"Oyster shells, from the looks of 'em. There must have been a big bed of 'em nearby."
"I thought they ate people."
"They eat whatever's at hand," he said teasingly, "fish, roots, berries, the occasional deer, the occasional white man."
"That's not funny!"
Randolph chuckled, and we moved on, passing through a heavy,grove of cedar trees. The,ground seemed firmer here. The sky overhead was almost completely opal colored now, dense, opaque, hardly a patch of gray showing, and it was so sultry that all of us were sweating freely. Jeremy was beginning to look worried again, his mouth tight, his eyes grim. Em let out a wild shriek as something dropped out of a tree and slithered across the pathway. Randolph held her close, chuckling again. She kicked him viciously in the shin, whereupon he let out a yell that startled birds and sent them flapping out of trees in a great cloud. Em smiled, extremely pleased with herself.
"Here, minx!" he said angrily, slinging the bundle at her. "Carry your own bloody loot. It weighs a ton!"
"I love a gentleman," she remarked, heaving the bundle over her shoulder with considerable effort.
"I'll carry it, Miz Em," Corrie said.
"No you won't, luv. It does weigh a ton. Those bloody candlesticks. I should have left them, but they're solid silver. Six pairs."
Up ahead, through the trees, we could see a hillside covered with trees and great gray rocks. Halfway up there was a large, gaping hole, the entrance to a small cave. Jeremy urged us to move faster, and we stumbled on, Em bent almost double under the weight of her bundle. After a short while Randolph grimaced, shook his head, and took it away from her, slinging it back across his broad, muscular shoulder. She gave him a lovely smile.
I stepped on a rock and lost my balance. Jeremy Bond seized my arm, steadying me, and as he did so there was a rumbling noise in the distance, like no thunder I had ever heard before. It sounded as though a gigantic iron roller was rumbling over the earth, flattening everything in its pathway. The ground seemed to shift under our feet as the rumbling continued, growing louder. The wind began to blow, singing through the treetops, mildly at first, the breeze a pleasant relief after the oppressive heat. I felt light drops of moisture as a cool scattering of raindrops sprinkled over us. In a matter of seconds the wind was blowing fiercely, howling, howling like a banshee, and the rain pelted us in swirling sheets.
"The cave!" Jeremy shouted. "We've got to make the cave!"
We were running now, the wind at our backs, pushing us forward like an invisible giant bent on smashing us to the ground, the rain swirling, blinding us as we rushed toward the hillside. Corrie slipped, but she didn't fall. She flew forward, feet off the ground, arms flailing at her sides, her skirts billowing up over her legs. Em screamed as Corrie crashed to the ground. Jeremy rushed forward, picked the girl up and said something to Randolph. Randolph nodded and scooped Em up into his arms and started running. Jeremy set Corrie back down and came toward me, his buckskin jacket flapping wildly as he struggled against the wind.
"What are you going to do!" I yelled as he seized my arm.
"You'll have to trust me, lass!"
He quickly untied the bandana from around his neck and tied one end of it around my right wrist. The rain pelted us with the force of bullets, and we could hardly stand. Corrie, crouched on the ground, seemed to skid as the wind slammed against her. Jeremy tightened the knot around my wrist and then pulled me over to the trunk of a tree.
"No!" I cried.
"Trust me! I'll be back for you!"
He forced both my arms around the trunk of the tree and tied the other end of the bandana around my left wrist and left me trussed up there, hugging the rough trunk of the tree. The wind tore at my skirts and hair as J turned my head to watch him scoop Corrie up and carry her off after Em and Randolph. The wind howled with the sound of a thousand demons, and limbs began to break off and fly through the air. They were gone now and I was alone, tied to the tree that shook and trembled and seemed intent on uprooting itself. A limb from another tree came hurtling toward me, crashing against the trunk only a few inches above my head.
The world had gone mad. The elements raged. The air was full of flying debris and rain, rain that crashed down in solid sheets of gray, great waves of wetness that slammed against me and turned the ground into mud. The noise was horrendous, the howling wind, the crashing rain, the shrieking of wood splintering. A thunderbolt darted from the sky, splitting the air with silver fury. It slammed into a tree only a few yards away from me. There was a great cloud of smoke and a burst of searing flames, and the tree split in two, splintering apart with a tearing, shrieking noise that was like a demented wail.
Lightning struck again, and again, and a limb overhead split and flew into the air. I saw flames explode over my head, flaring quickly, doused immediately by the rain, i clung to the tree, my eyes closed now, my cheek resting against the rough bark. I could feel the trunk swaying, swaying, straining against the wind, and I knew that in just a matter of minutes it was going to snap in two and I would be torn apart as well. I was drenched from head to toe, and still the great "waves slashed against me, pounding my body. The wind continued to scream, shriller and shriller, and
the rumbling grew louder as the giant roller drew nearer, crushing everything.
I prayed they had made it to the cave. I was going to die, I knew that, but perhaps the others had made it to safety in time. A tremendous gust hit the tree and the tree swayed, roots tearing from the ground, and I was picked up and thrown into the air and would have been blown away had my wrists not been tied. I slammed back against the trunk with an impact that knocked the breath out of me, and there was a painful slap against my thigh as the heavy bag of jewelry hit against flesh with bruising force. I held on, eyes closed still, waiting for the inevitable.
Great roots had been pulled out of the ground. The tree was at an angle now, and I was no longer standing. I was swaying, held only by that tightly knotted bandana. Sheets of rain slammed against me, and water rose, swirling above my ankles, above my calves. If I wasn't torn free and blown away, flying to a shattering, splintering death as I crashed against tree trunks and rocks, I would surely drown, tied, here, helpless as the water rose, whirling higher by the second, coating my skirt and legs with mud. Another limb tore free above my head, sailing away, and bolts of lightning flashed all around like jagged silver serpents striking with venomous force.
I was going to die. I faced the fact with curious objectivity, beyond terror as I swayed from the trunk that tilted at a forty-five-degree angle. More roots pulled free, and the tilt grew lower and I dropped down into the raging water that was waist-high, rushing in torrents that would have carried me off were I not tied. Minutes passed, hours, it seemed, and reality faded and I was in the middle of a howling, shrieking, pounding nightmare that would never end. My mind seemed to quicken and spin, and images flashed with dizzying speed and vivid color.
I saw an auction block and two men, one tall and stern with hard features and gray eyes and black hair, the other lean, lounging against a tree, his blond hair all atumble. They were bidding for me, both of them. Then I saw a wagon and a run-down plantation house and Derek Hawke was delirious from snakebite and I was smoothing his brow. I looked into his eyes and they turned from gray to dark brown, and Jeff Rawlins was teasing me as we organized a ball in the gambling hall in New Orleans. I shook my head to clear it, and I saw oak trees and mist and saw the pistols and heard the shot and Jeff fell to the ground and I hurried toward him and he looked at me with the harsh brutal face of Helmut Schnieder and I was in the mansion at Natchez, Roseclay, and it was burning and he was laughing, pulling on my wrists, pulling them apart.
Jennifer Wilde Page 34
