"Luther. Oh sweet Jesus!" Eulalie shrieked. "Luther’s in the barn."
Wearing only a thin night dress, Annalisa tore out the back door and across the wide expanse of yard. Behind her, Eulalie followed at breakneck speed. A thin sliver of moon hung in a darkened sky. On a sudden breeze the acrid odor of wood-smoke stung her eyes. Nearing the barn she could see the flames racing across the loft spread with straw.
"Luther. Oh God, Luther," Annalisa cried, forcing open the door. As soon as the door was opened, the fire became an inferno.
Through the thick smoke, Annalisa could make out a figure struggling with the stable doors. Running to his side, Annalisa found Luther gamely forcing each door open with his left arm while his right streamed blood. One side of his face was so bloody he could barely see.
"You go with Eulalie. I’ll see to the horses," Annalisa shouted over the roar of the fire.
As the terrified horses thundered past them, he turned toward the carriage.
"I have to pull the carriage out of here, Miss Montgomery."
"No. It isn’t important, Luther. Come on, before the roof collapses."
With Annalisa on one side of him and Eulalie on the other, they led him through the smoke toward the open door. When they reached it, he staggered and would have fallen if the two women hadn’t supported his weight. "Hold on, Luther. We have to make it to the house."
Gamely, he struggled to remain on his feet. Dazed, he leaned his weight on their slender shoulders and took several more steps.
"Well, look what we have here. Two pretty little whores and their nigger."
Annalisa whirled at the sound of the coarse voice. A man, his face concealed beneath a hooded robe, sat astride his horse. Beside him was a similarly hooded horseman.
"All right, you two," another voice called from the darkness. "Stand away from the nigger."
Annalisa turned. Inching out of the shadows were three more hooded figures. The whinny of horses nearby caused Annalisa to wonder how many other men were hidden in the darkness.
One of the men brandished a rifle. "You heard him. Step away."
Annalisa tightened her grip on Luther. She could feel him swaying and knew that it was taking all of his willpower to continue standing.
"This man is hurt. We’re taking him to the house."
As she turned, the hooded man thrust his rifle into her back. "Unless you step away from this nigger, you’re going to get the same thing he gets. Understand?"
Annalisa glanced at the tight set of Luther’s mouth. "Let me go, Miss Montgomery. You too, Eulalie. Get out of here now."
"No." Defiantly, Annalisa took a step toward the house, still clutching Luther’s arm. He and Eulalie clasped hands and he nearly staggered. "Don’t fall now, Luther," Annalisa murmured. "Just stay on your feet a little while longer."
"I’m trying." Sweat beaded his upper lip as he took another step, then another. "But I want you two safe. Run now. Leave me."
"No." It was Eulalie’s voice. "We go together."
"You leave us no choice," called a voice from behind them. "We don’t hold with shooting white women. But if you won’t step away from that nigger, we’ll have to shoot all three of you."
Annalisa closed her eyes for a moment, waiting for the blast that would end her life. When the bullet sounded, she winced, then opened her eyes, realizing that she was still alive. Glancing at Luther and Eulalie, she saw that they were both unhurt as well.
"That’s just a warning shot," Hattie Lee’s voice called from the darkness. "The next one won’t miss. We have you surrounded. You men either leave immediately, or you’ll all be dead."
"She’s bluffing," one of the men shouted. "These women couldn’t have that many guns."
As soon as the words were spoken, the women began moving into the circle of light. Each one of them was pointing her rifle at one of the hooded figures.
Gabrielle, in elegant, high-heeled slippers, wore a gown of shimmering ruby. Her lush black hair was swept up and held with jeweled combs. The rifle at her shoulder was an incongruous sight. The man at whom it was pointed couldn’t see that her hands were trembling.
Francine, taller than the man she faced, stood barefoot, clad in a nightgown of translucent ivory gauze. Long blond hair streamed down her back to her waist. With the rifle at her shoulder, she looked like an Amazon.
Delia, tiny and fragile, was also barefoot. Wearing only a lacy chemise and bloomers, she looked like a child brandishing the rifle. But her eyes were dark with anger, and the hands on the weapon were steady.
Even Corinna stepped forward cradling a carbine. Despite the wild orange hair and sleep-crusted eyes, there was a look of fierce determination about her.
Hattie Lee brought up the rear, pointing her rifle at the mounted men. A silk gown of brilliant sapphire glittered in the reflected firelight. Her eyes were clear. Her voice rang out sharply. "Your time’s running out. Now you mount up and get out of here or we’ll blow your cowardly heads off."
The men who were already astride their horses turned and headed for the road to town. The others scurried toward their tethered mounts and left without a backward glance.
When they were gone, Luther slipped silently to the ground. It took six of the women to carry their heavy burden to the house. While Eulalie insisted on sponging his wounds, a maid was dispatched to find Dr. Lynch.
The others made their way wearily to the barn to form a water brigade and tend to the horses.
Annalisa tossed buckets of water until her arms were too numb to feel anything. Then she continued tossing water, until the roof caved in. The rest of the barn slowly caved in upon itself, sending flames shooting a hundred feet in the air.
With tears streaming down their blackened faces, the women watched their fine carriage dissolve under charred boards. Cases of choice whiskey and bolts of silk and satin and linen were incinerated.
"Come on, child," Hattie Lee said softly. Placing her arm around Annalisa’s shoulders, she led the way to the kitchen. A maid handed them cool glasses of lemonade, and no one seemed to notice that their hands were blistered, and their faces smudged. All of them were barefoot, and still dressed in night clothes.
In the parlor, Dr. Lynch dressed Luther’s wounds, while Eulalie clung to his hand, refusing to leave his side even during the examination.
The doctor glanced up as Annalisa and Hattie Lee entered. "Broken arm," he said, nodding toward the clean white sling. "Jumped from the loft when the fire broke out. The cut on his forehead is deep. He doesn’t know how he got it. Thinks that’s what woke him up. I’m guessing those men threw something through the loft window that caught him on the side of the head. Then they tossed a fiery torch through the broken window. That’s when Luther jumped up. He was shot in the side. If he hadn’t twisted, it would have caught him in the chest. He must have landed on the prongs of a rake. Deep, almost to the bone," Dr. Lynch said softly, pointing to the dressings on Luther’s side. "These are what nearly did him in. Would have killed a lesser man." The doctor shook his head. "He’s tough." Glancing at the smoke-charred faces of the women, he added, "Nearly as tough as all of you. Are any of the women hurt?"
Though he asked it casually enough, both Annalisa and Hattie Lee knew he was concerned about Gabrielle.
"No one except Luther," Annalisa said gently. She saw the look of relief on the doctor’s face. "The others are in the kitchen, Doctor. Why don’t you go in there and have a cup of coffee before going home?"
He nodded. Turning to Eulalie, he said firmly, "Change those dressings at least twice a day. Get him to drink fluids. Plenty of water, lemonade, tea. Anything you can get in him. I’ll be back as often as I can."
The young girl nodded, tears filling her eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Lynch."
"Don’t thank me. Thank God he’s as strong as he is." Touching her hand, he added, "I know you’ll take good care of him, Eulalie."
"I will, Doctor. I promise."
Wearily the doctor made his way to the kitc
hen, where the others were trying to sort out the shocking events of the night.
Hearing a pounding on the front door, Annalisa hurried to open it. Chase stood staring at her, his features dark with rage.
"My God. What happened?"
"We had a fire in the barn."
"I know that much. How did it start?"
"Some men. Hooded. They threw a torch through the loft window." Her voice trembled and he clenched his fists to keep from slamming them into a wall.
"Luther?"
"He’s been badly hurt. But Dr. Lynch says he’ll be all right."
"I want to see him."
Annalisa turned and led him down the dim hallway toward the parlor. Inside, Eulalie lay on the sofa beside the sleeping figure, her arms clasping him tightly. Seeing Chase and Annalisa, she sat up quickly.
"Stay here, Eulalie," Chase said gently. "I just wanted to see for myself that Luther was all right."
"He’s hurting bad," the girl said. "But Dr. Lynch says he’s strong."
Chase nodded, then touched the man’s shoulder, feeling a wave of guilt. He had been the one who had sent Luther here on the pretext of needing a job. Looking down at the worried girl, he said, "I know you’ll stay with him, Eulalie. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know."
"I will. Thank you."
Turning to Annalisa, he said, "Where can we talk?"
Wearily, she turned and led him to her office.
As she slumped into her chair, he realized how exhausted she was. The first streaks of dawn were already coloring the sky. This must all seem like a nightmare.
"How many men were there?"
She thought a minute. "I saw five. There may have been more with the horses. I’m not certain."
"Did you recognize any of the voices?"
She shook her head. "It all happened so quickly. There wasn’t time to think about anything except that we were going to die."
His voice lowered. "Could this be the work of Montagnet?"
Annalisa shrugged. "He made another threat tonight. About what might happen to a houseful of women. But why would he single out Luther? Why not just threaten me?"
"Because that would be too obvious. This way, with the use of hooded men, it could look like some disgruntled citizens angry at the loss of their slaves."
"Oh, Chase." Annalisa buried her face in her hands and felt the threat of tears clog her throat. "I can’t have these others hurt because of me."
Coming around the desk, Chase knelt before her and turned her into his arms. "There’s no stopping it, Annalisa. If Montagnet has set the wheels in motion, he won’t be satisfied until he exacts his revenge."
"If I were the only one involved, I’d be able to fight him. But I can’t stand by and see my friends hurt because of me."
"What choice do you have?"
She drew in a long, ragged breath. "I can give in to his demands."
"Never." His hands at her shoulders tightened until she nearly cried out. His voice was so low with anger it sounded like a stranger’s. "You can never give in to the Montagnets of this world. They’re insatiable. They’re obsessed with power. With Montagnet, it’s the need to control people. You dared to defy him. You have only one choice now. Stand and fight."
"What if he kills Luther the next time?"
Chase drew her to her feet and brought his arms around her, holding her close to his heart. Against her temple, he murmured, "He won’t."
"How can you be certain?"
"Because the next time he strikes, I’ll be here. And it will give me the greatest pleasure to kill Charles Montagnet."
"You can’t be here all the time."
"Why can’t I?"
Annalisa looked up at his eyes. They were hard, unyielding.
Because, she thought, you have a life to live. A job to do. Because your presence would create problems in my life. Her thoughts were beginning to scatter. She was tired. So tired. If Chase were to live under this roof, there would be no way she could continue to fight her attraction for him. But she would argue with him tomorrow. Now, or for the few hours left until dawn, she just wanted him to hold her close and let her absorb some of his strength.
"You’ll stay until morning?"
He lifted her in his arms and carried her out of her office and up the stairs. As she snuggled her head to his shoulder, her eyes closed. Against her cheek he murmured, "You weren’t listening. I’m moving in."
Chapter Twenty
Annalisa awoke to the sound of activity. From the yard below she heard the muffled shouts of men’s voices. Wagon wheels clattered. Hammers rang against wood. Startled, she leaped from her bed and hurried to the window. Amidst the chaos she spotted Chase, looking cool and composed in crisp white shirt and black riding breeches, directing the workmen. While Annalisa watched, a crew of men lifted the charred remains of her once elegant carriage, dumping it unceremoniously into a wagon littered with debris. Several men were breaking apart what remained of the fire-scarred walls of the barn before loading them into wagons for disposal.
Chase turned and glanced up, his lips curving into a smile when he saw her at the window. Had he sensed her there at the window? She returned the smile and felt her mouth go dry. Even from so great a distance, he could touch her with only a look, a smile. When a workman called to him, Chase returned his attention to the job at hand.
Kneeling on the cool floor, Annalisa leaned her arms on the windowsill and rested her chin on her hands. The horror of last night was etched clearly in her mind. She had never come so close to death as she had when she’d continued walking with Luther. Even the attack in her office hadn’t gripped her with such terror. At least there, she was able to fight back, however weakly. But turning her back on a man with a rifle and daring to walk away beside her friends had taken courage she never knew she possessed.
Added to her terror was the backbreaking effort to stop the spread of the flames. Her hands were torn and blistered, her shoulders still ached. But in the end she and the others had been forced to stand by and watch helplessly as fire consumed the entire structure.
She could barely remember Chase carrying her to bed. She must have fallen asleep even before he lowered her to the mattress. She could recall his strong arms holding her against his chest, could still feel the strength, the comfort that she had clung to. And she could almost remember his lips pressed to her cheek as she snuggled into her bed—or had she imagined it? She thought he sat and held her for a while, but she wasn’t certain. She knew only that she had slept soundly, feeling safe and secure.
The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, and she hurried to bathe and dress. Downstairs, the maids wore grim, nervous expressions.
Hattie Lee lifted a steaming cup to her lips and turned a glum face at Annalisa’s arrival. "Everything tastes burnt. Even the coffee."
"A few days from now we’ll never even notice." Annalisa forced a cheerful attitude as she poured herself a cup. "If we’re lucky, maybe a fresh wind will blow off the river."
"Anything the lady desires." Chase crossed the back porch and strode into the kitchen.
As if on cue, through the open door a stiff breeze ruffled the tablecloth.
Just the sight of him lifted Annalisa’s spirits.
"How long will it be before the workmen clear away the ashes?" Hattie Lee asked.
"With enough help, two days. Maybe three. We should have a new barn finished before next month."
"Unless our uninvited guests decide to torch it again."
Chase glanced at Hattie Lee’s unsmiling face. "It isn’t like you to be so negative, Hattie Lee. What’s wrong?" His tone was guarded. "Is it Luther?"
Hattie Lee shook her head. "He’s holding on. Eulalie says he slept fitfully." She frowned. "We’ll have to move him from the parlor. Eulalie insists we take him to her room where she can nurse him. But I don’t know how we can possibly get him up those steep stairs. I don’t think he’ll survive such a move."
"Have the women make u
p a pallet of blankets," Chase said quickly. "I’ll have some of the workmen get him upstairs with very little strain on Luther’s wounds."
Hattie Lee slanted a look at Annalisa. "Eulalie won’t be able to work with him in her room."
"She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her work anyway," Annalisa said gently. "I think Eulalie’s loving care will be the best medicine of all for Luther."
"I don’t think Eulalie has ever had anyone of her own to worry about before," Chase added. "You may have lost one of your women, Hattie Lee."
Seeing her quick frown, he asked, "Is that what’s bothering you?"
She shook her head. Her tone became low, angry. "I’ve heard about those men who hide behind hoods and go about burning and killing. They’ve vowed to keep on spreading their wickedness until all people of color are driven from the land."
"They won’t succeed," Chase said, touching a hand to her shoulder.
"Neither will they back down."
"Nor will we. If they return, we’ll be ready for them."
"It’s the waiting," the older woman said, rubbing a hand wearily along her arm.
"I know." Chase turned and smiled at the cook. "I think one of your beignets would cheer me, Thelma."
The cook’s grim features relaxed into a smile. "I made them fresh just for you."
Biting into one, he licked sugar from his lip and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You’ve made my day sweeter, Thelma."
Almost hesitantly the old woman touched a hand to her cheek then began loading a platter with freshly baked goods for the workers.
Annalisa watched as Chase continued weaving his charm. The maids giggled and blushed and found a dozen chores that would keep them in the kitchen while Chase enjoyed his breakfast.
"We’ve lost most of the whiskey," Hattie Lee said, "and those new gowns I’d designed have all gone up in smoke."
"The beauties who live in this house have enough gowns to last a lifetime," Chase said soothingly. "They can make do with the clothes in their closets. At least until I can locate another shipment of silk."
"And the whiskey?" the black woman said bleakly. "How long will our customers last without fine whiskey?"
Destiny's Daughter Page 23
