Jennifer Wilde

by Marietta Love Me

  "Let go of me!" I screamed. "Let go!"

  "Easy, lass! I've got to untie you!"

  I opened my eyes and saw his face only a few inches away from mine as he struggled to untie the bandana. His brown hair plastered over his skull in thick, wet locks and splayed across his forehead, and his mouth was set in a determined line and his blue eyes were determined, too. I shook my head, trying to tell him it was useless, unable to speak as my legs kicked in the rushing water, skirts weighing me down, pulling me. He caught hold of my arm and held it tightly as my other arm swung free, the bandana still tied around my wrist. The suction of the water pulled me away from him, but he held on, somehow he held on. It seemed my arm was going to be pulled out of its socket as he drew me toward him, gathering me in his arms.

  He was standing. Legs spread wide, he was standing in the raging waters that rushed violently, swirling with debris, threatening to carry us both away. He looked into my eyes, and his own were calm, deliberately calm, reassuring me and warning me not to panic. He held me tightly, so tightly I felt certain my ribs would crack. Over the shrieking wind and pounding rain I heard him tell me to wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on fast. He was yelling directly into my ear, yet I could hardly hear him over the nightmare din, and I didn't try to answer. I merely obeyed.

  He swung me around and ducked and for a brief instant both of us were under water as he moved beneath the trunk of the tree I had been tied to only moments before. He pulled me up and I coughed, water spilling from both of us as he half-walked, half-swam away from the tree. There was a great, groaning noise as the trunk tilted more and roots tore free. The trunk fell into the water with a great splash and immediately swirled away, banging against the sides of other trees, limbs splintering, shattering. Had Jeremy Bond not arrived when he had I would have been crushed to death, every bone in my body broken.

  Jeremy wrapped one arm around me, reached with the other and caught hold of a tree trunk and pulled with all his might. I held on to him, knowing it was futile, knowing we would never make the cave. He let go of the tree trunk and took another step, his foot slipping, then holding, his legs trembling as he took yet another step and then another. The water was up to his thighs and any moment now his legs would give way and both of us would go cascading to our deaths. A bolt of lightning struck. Half a tree crashed into the water directly in front of us. Jeremy caught hold of it, swung it around and let go. It swirled away.

  He could have saved himself, and he had come back for me. Now both of us would die. He claimed to love me. He must. He must love me. He had risked his life and the lives of all his men in order to rescue me from the island, and now he was risking his life again and we would die together. I had wanted to die before. Before, after Derek was murdered, I had longed for death, but now, as those strong arms held me pinioned tightly against that muscular chest, as the wind shrieked and the ram slashed and treetops swayed and broke and limbs flew into the air, I wanted desperately to live, if only to thank this man for all he had done. I clung to him, my face buried in his neck, and I could feel every muscle in his body straining as he continued to move through the torrential waters.

  It was no longer waist-high. It was up to his knees now. How far had we come? How much more could he endure? His knees were growing weak from the effort. I could feel them give slightly as he struggled upward. Yes, upward, he was climbing now, moving up that first gentle slope of the hillside. I lifted my head and through the raging gray sheets of rain it seemed I could see someone moving toward us. Jeremy called out and took another step. I felt him sway violently as his right leg slipped, and he fell face forward, his arms flying out instinctively to break the fall.

  I spun underwater, thrashing, and I could feel the tug of the water carrying me away. I went plummeting downward in the water, and then I screamed in pain as the roots of my hair threatened to tear out of my scalp. Jeremy Bond pulled, dragging me back toward him by my hair, and I threw my arms out and reached back to seize that hand that was tearing my hair out. He took hold of my wrist and pulled me forward, on his knees in the water. For a moment we wrestled together as I struck out in blind panic. He finally slung an arm around my throat, caught both my wrists in his free hand, and lifted me, dragging me out of the water, half-strangling me as he did so.

  Enormous hands reached out, clasping his arm, clasping mine, heaving, and I was vaguely aware of Dick Randolph swinging me over his shoulder. Rain pelted my back. The wind slammed at me with incredible force. The shrieking howl never ceased, the din so loud I thought my eardrums would burst from the agony of it. Randolph climbed, carrying me, Jeremy Bond behind us, and then we were moving through the mouth of the cave. As Randolph set me on my feet, holding my arms so that I wouldn't fall, I caught a quick glimpse of purple-gray rock walls and a blazing fire and a curious heap of mossy rugs and broken pots. I looked up into Randolph's eyes and started to say thank you, and then my head started spinning and I collapsed in his arms.

  "My God!" Em cried.

  "She's all right, gal. Just faint."

  "Bring her over here by the fire! She's half-drowned!"

  I was aware of strong arms moving me, lowering me onto grassy softness. I was aware of the dancing yellow-orange flames and the smoke and the heat and it was lovely, so lovely, for I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I saw Em leaning over me with concerned hazel eyes, Corrie behind her, and I tried to sit up because I had to ask about Jeremy, Did he make it? Was he behind us? Em pushed me back onto the softness and then wrapped me up in something equally as soft. I shook my head because I couldn't sleep, I had to know about Jeremy. I tried to speak again, and then I saw him standing beside the fire, peeling off the buckskin jacket.

  I could hear the wind screaming and the rain lashing, but the sound was muted, not nearly as loud as the crackle of flames, lovely flames that danced merrily and cast flickering black shadows on the purple-gray walls and warmed me. I sighed, drawing the grassy softness closer about me, and I wondered what it was, wondered about the broken pots I had seen, I closed my eyes, sinking slowly into soft, luxurious darkness. When I opened them again I saw his face leaning over me, polished by firelight, eyes tender, brown hair dry, falling forward over his brow. I heard the wind and rain and heard him say something,' and then darkness claimed me again as his hand touched my cheek and gently stroked it. I had rarely known such bliss.

  Twenty-One

  I straggled into a sitting position, dry, warm, surprisingly refreshed. The soft, sweet-smelling rug of dried, woven moss fell away from my shoulders as I stretched, looking around the cave. The fire had gone out, only a pile of cold, charred wood remaining, and rays of sunlight streamed through the opening. Corrie and the men were gone. Em smiled and came toward me with one of the curiously shaped white vessels.

  "Here, luv," she said, "drink this, it's water, and try not to let the fact that cannibals drank out of it bother you."

  I took the vessel by its slender white neck and drank greedily, giving no thought whatsoever to other lips that might have touched the rim. The water was wonderfully cool and satisfying. Em watched rne drink as a mother hen might watch an ailing chick. I finished the rest of the water and handed her the vessel. She set it down gingerly.

  "How are you feeling?" she inquired.

  "I'm sore all over. My jaw aches. My throat feels raw. The roots of my hair sting and, yes, my wrists hurt, too, but I feel wonderful, lucky to be alive."

  "You slept for hours, luv. It's midafternoon now, and the storm passed over a long time ago."

  "Where are the men?"

  "Hunting for food," she replied. "Corrie went with them. It seems she knows quite a lot about roots and berries and things. They've been gone over an hour—should be back soon. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

  "I could use a bite," I admitted.

  "Randolph thinks he's going to find game and kill it with a bow and arrow. As soon as the storm was over he went out and came back with a long willow branch
and a bunch of sticks he'd cut. He peeled the bark off the sticks and notched them and sharpened the ends to points, making arrows, then took a piece of thin wire out of his pocket and fastened it to the willow branch and made a dandy bow."

  "Why go to all that trouble? Why not just use his gun?"

  "That's what I wanted to know, luv, thought it was silly as hell when he claims to be such a terrific shot. Know what he told me? He told me that if there still were any Karankawas lurking about the neighborhood he didn't want to alert 'em of our presence with gunfire."

  "He thinks there might still be some around?"

  Em nodded. "They're migratory, he says, but it seems that when they migrate they don't migrate far. They move all through the area in long canoes they make by hollowing out logs. They could be ten miles away or they could be half a mile away, and here's the lovely part, luv, there isn't just one big tribe of 'em. There're bands of them all over the place."

  She shivered, folding her arms around her waist. I stretched again, not at all alarmed. The moss rugs made a soft, crackling sound. At least four of them were beneath me, making an unusually comfortable mattress.

  "Some of them were in this cave," Em continued. "They left the rugs and the pots. While you were sleeping Randolph told me all about them, told me a lot more than I cared to hear. He was trying to scare me, of course, and I'll have to admit he did. They eat their victims alive, luv. They tie them to a stake and dance around them with knives and then nip over and cut off a piece of flesh and—''

  "Please, Em," I protested.

  "And they cut their victim's entrails out and roust them right in front of him. He had me cringing, all right, I was white as a sheet, actually trembling, and he put his arms around me and chuckled and told me not to worry, said he'd protect me, the bastard."

  "He was probably making most of it up, Em."

  "No he wasn't, luv. He just confirmed the stories I heard on the island. After he'd finished scaring me he told me about their culture and habits and things. He seems to know all about them. The men are very tall and wear only breech-cloths and paint themselves up, usually in black and white. Each pattern they use on their bodies has a special meaning, a kind of message to the others. They tattoo themselves, too, like the Seminoles in Florida. I never heard of the Seminoles, but apparently the Karankawas have a lot in common with them, only the Seminoles don't eat human flesh."

  She was determined to regale me with information, and I stood up, stretching once again. I was sore all over, it was true, but it seemed I could feel the life force quickening in my veins. I ignored the aches and pains, brushing bits of dried mud off my skirt.

  "The women are quite attractive, he says," Em continued. "They are tall, too, and wear skirts of dried moss, like those rugs, and strings of shells and green glass beads. The Karankawas are extremely promiscuous, Randolph says, and they have very close family tries. Some explorer named Cabeza de Vaca wrote about 'em in a book—Randolph read it, didn't know he could read. This de Vaca fellow was shipwrecked off the coast in the early fifteen hundreds and wandered around the southwest for a couple of years, gathering information for his book, I suppose."

  Em warmed up to her subject, quite clearly fascinated, and I let her talk, paying very little attention. I continued to brush dried mud off my dress, my mind on Jeremy Bond.

  "Anyway, luv, he found them quite friendly, de Vaca did. He called them Capoques and Hans instead of Karankawas, but Randolph says they're the same Indians. They move around the lagoons and bays in their hollowed-out log canoes and catch fish in cane weirs and eat the root of an underwater plant when they can't find anything else. This part's going to bowl you over, luv—de Vaca recorded that the women nurse their young until the children are twelve years old! He was quite amazed."

  "I shouldn't Wonder," I said, smiling.

  Em sighed and shook her head and, momentarily forgetting the Karankawas, examined me with close scrutiny.

  "You really had us worried, luv. I thought surely you were going to be killed."

  "So did I."

  "When I saw Jeremy Bond intended to tie you to a tree and leave you out there I screamed and kicked something awful, but Randolph wouldn't put me down. He finally had to hit me, knocked me clean unconscious. I woke up in the cave just as Bond brought Corrie in. She was wailing, too."

  "There was nothing else he could do, Em. He was thinking of all of us. He saved my life."

  "Cocky chap. Can't say that I take to him, although I'll have to admit he's terribly good-looking. Brave, too."

  "Extremely brave," I said quietly.

  "He squawked like the devil when I made him climb the tree, though. Said no dress on earth was worth climbing that high for. I put my hands on my hips and looked him straight in the eyes and told him if he didn't get his ass up there I'd kick it so hard he wouldn't sit on it for a week."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Your bundle, luv. You dropped it—don't imagine you remember in all the excitement. It flew away and caught in the branches of one of the trees, and I saw it as soon as we stepped out of the cave. Your cocky gentleman shimmied up after it, grumbling all the way. Come and I dried everything over the fire. Your dresses and shoes weren't wet, just the cloaks. Corrie's things were only a little damp."

  "Were the brush and comb still there?"

  Em nodded, "I've already used them, imagine you'd like to, too. I'll get them."

  She handed me the brush and comb a moment later, and I combed the tangles out of my hair and then brushed until it fell to my shoulders in thick, smooth waves. This simple act made me feel much, much better somehow, arid as I gave brush and comb back to Em I contemplated taking off my filthy dress and putting on one of the others. Reason told me it would be extremely foolish. We still had to trek to the boat they had left anchored in the secret cove, and a fresh dress would soon be as dirty as this one. I decided to wait until we reached the boat to change. I brushed the rest of the dried mud off my dress and then straightened the bodice, stepping over to the mouth of the cave to peer out at the storm-wracked terrain.

  The damage wasn't nearly as extensive as I would have imagined it to be. Limbs were torn off trees, true, and trees were split and broken, but the majority of them were undamaged, spreading leafy green limbs toward the radiant silvery-yellow sunshine. The torrents of water were gone, of course, and the ground was already dry. Overhead the sky stretched blue-white and cloudless, polished with sunlight, arid from this elevation I could see a network of swollen rivers and lagoons, half-concealed by willows and the sturdy gray cypress. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago all this had been obliterated by torrential rains and raging winds that crushed and destroyed.

  "Incredible, isn't it?" Em said, coming to stand beside me. "It's all so peaceful and calm now. Pretty, too, if you like scenery. Never could get too excited about it myself."

  "It's wonderful to be tree, isn't it?"

  "If you don't mind cannibals lurking behind every tree, Me, I'll be much happier once we're in New Orleans."

  "At least we're off the island, Em."

  "And have two strapping men to protect us. I feel terribly secure with that Randolph around. He gives me a cozy, cuddly feeling inside—I want to snuggle up and purr, and at the same time I want to scratch."

  I gave her a wry look, arching one eyebrow.

  "Oh no, luv," she protested, "this time it's serious."

  I merely smiled and shook my head, savoring the brilliant sunlight that stroked my cheeks and bare arms and shoulders. It was very warm, although the heat lacked the sultry, oppressive quality it had had earlier. I felt a marvelous energy surging through me, and there was a light, lovely, tremulous sensation I hardly recognized—it had been so long since I felt it. I realized that I was happy. For the first time in months and months I felt relaxed and radiant, smiling naturally, easily, at peace with myself and the world. I didn't care to examine the reasons.

  "Here they come," Em said. "Lord, he's got two h
uge birds in his hand! Holding them by their feet."

  "Wild turkeys," I told her.

  "Just look at that satisfied look on his face. Mighty pleased with himself."

  Randolph saw us standing in front of the cave and lifted the turkeys over his head, waving them triumphantly. Em made a disgusted noise, Randolph came on up the hill, Jeremy and Come behind him. Corrie was carrying a basket of woven willow that must have been in the cave along with the other things. It was filled with plump, purple-black berries. Jeremy took her elbow, guiding her past a large boulder. He climbed the rest of the way with that long, easy stride, loose and bouncy. The fringe on his jacket swayed, and I noticed that the red-orange bandana was back around his neck, none the worse for wear.

  "Success!" Randolph cried. "Look at 'em! Aren't they lovely?"

  "Get those bloody things away from me!" Em snapped.

  "'Got 'em both with my bow and arrow, and you thought I was going to come back empty-handed, didn't you?"

  "I was hoping you wouldn't come back at all," she said dryly.

  "Joshin' again. Bet you pined for me the whole time. Corrie here found a blackberry bush, filled the basket with 'em, and Jeremy-boy spent the whole time sittin' with a fishin' pole. Nary a nibble."

  "Don't rub it in," Jeremy grumbled. "They just weren't biting. Never could abide fishing. Bores the bejesus out of me."

  "You just don't have the knack, lad. It's an art,"

  "Glad to see you up and about," Jeremy told me.