Witch Angel

by Trana Mae Simmons

  Studying Shain’s gaunt face for a second, she couldn’t bring herself to argue with him. “I’ll do whatever’s needed,” she promised. But, her thoughts continued, if it becomes necessary for you to call in the women to help with the sandbags, I’ll be with them. “I’ll go change into some sturdier clothes.”

  Shain nodded and allowed her to stand. He followed her up to their room, enumerating the supplies she should ask the cook to gather up for her as they walked. She unselfconsciously changed her clothing in front of him, balling up her wrinkled gown and tossing it in a hamper when she saw it had been mud-stained from sitting on his lap. She dressed in her split skirt and riding boots, pausing once when she felt a flush cover her skin.

  Turning, she saw Shain sitting on the bed, his eyes on her and lids at half-mast. The deep longing flaring between them was almost tangible in the room. She took a step toward him, but he held up a hand. “If I touch that satin skin of yours right now,” he growled in a low voice, “I’ll never get back out there.”

  “Well,” she teased in an attempt to overcome her own need, “I’m not really partial to making love on muddy sheets.”

  Shain jumped to his feet and stared down at the bed. Laughing at his expression, Alaynia walked over and pulled the comforter over the stained sheets. “There. I’ll change them myself when I get time.”

  Shain pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Reluctantly, he released her, and said, “I love you, Alaynia. I’d make love to you in a sea of mud, if that was the only place we had. But even there, I’d want more time to savor you than I have right now. When things get back on an even keel around here, I’m going to take you off somewhere on that honeymoon Jeannie suggested. I want you all to myself for at least a month, so you be thinking of where you’d like to go.”

  “I’ll go anywhere,” Alaynia murmured, “as long as you’re with me.” She tilted her face impishly at him. “Besides, with you around, I doubt if I’ll see very much of the scenery anyway.”

  He growled under his breath, then nuzzled her neck. Her knees weakened, but before she had to cling to him for support, he pushed her gently away. “We better get going. But before we do, I’d like you to finish buttoning your blouse.”

  She glanced down, then giggled. Her blouse hung completely open, and the scanty black-lace bra revealed far too much of her breasts. Slipping a teasing look at Shain, she very slowly buttoned the blouse. As she finally reached to tuck the hem into her skirt, his pent-up breath whooshed over her face.

  “You can bet your entire wardrobe of those tiny scraps of lace that I’m going to be thinking of how you look under that blouse every time I see you,” Shain said with a groan, placing her hand on himself to reinforce his words. “I don’t know how I can want you this badly, as tired as I am, but you can see that I do.”

  “No, I really can’t,” Alaynia said with a grin. “See, I mean. But I can feel—and remember.” She dropped her hand and backed away. “And I’ll be remembering that, while you’re remembering my wardrobe of sexy underthings.”

  * * * *

  Several hours later, Alaynia was growing increasingly more worried over what she had been hearing from the workers who came in for coffee and food. Several of them were standing on Myra Carrington’s porch, visible through the open door. She’d helped Myra hang several lanterns from the pitched roof, and she could clearly see the men’s faces while they spoke.

  “Must’ve been raining up north before it hit down here,” one said. “Dubose said he checked out the river while he was in town. It’s rising fast.”

  “Yeah, it’s the runoff, as much as the rain,” another replied. “And it’s gettin’ ahead of us. I figure even if this damned rain would stop right now, we’d have another day of rising water. Thing is, it ain’t even the damned river botherin’ us. It’s the rainwater all around us, filling up them creeks with water that’s tryin’ to get to the Mississippi River.”

  “Well, we better get back out there.” The man threw the dregs from his coffee cup over the porch rail and set the cup on a windowsill. “I heard Carrington and St. Clair talking about asking some of the women to come out and help us. Soon as they can get the kids gathered up in somebody’s house, so the older girls can watch them.”

  Alaynia pulled off the apron Myra had loaned her and tossed it on the back of a chair. When she turned to the overseer’s wife, the other woman nodded in understanding.

  “The irrigation ditch with the broken dam is about two hundred and fifty yards from here,” Myra said. “Come on out onto the porch, and I’ll show you which way to go. Then I’ll see what I can do to help with the children. We’ll split them up into a couple houses, since there are too many of them to all sleep in one house.”

  Alaynia followed Myra out the door and shrugged into the slicker she’d left out there. Taking the lantern Myra handed her, she walked to the edge of the porch, holding it high and waiting for Myra to indicate the direction she should take. But instead of pointing the way, Myra called to someone walking past her house. “Cammie! Are you going out to help the men?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The black woman held her own lantern a little higher. “Mister Shain sent word he needs our help.”

  “Take Miz St. Clair with you,” Myra said. “She’s going, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alaynia hurried down the steps. The rain wasn’t as vicious now, but it still fell steadily. After a brief nod of greeting, Cammie started off, and she trailed behind the other woman. The path led through the huge trees, with darkness beneath them. Shortly, however, she heard voices and spotted flickers of light ahead of them.

  The scene on the bank of the irrigation ditch filled her with fear. A line of women and men stretched out from a muddy pit to her right, much as they had the night of the chapel fire. But this time they were passing bags of sand along the length of the line, rather than buckets and pails of water. Several men shoveled sand into more bags, jerking the drawstrings tight as soon as they had them filled and handing them to the nearest person to pass down the line.

  The stack of bags along the ditch was already over four feet high, but at times water still gushed over the top. Shouts would go up, urging attention to the place where the protective pile of bags threatened to give way. Eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark, Alaynia could see the water pouring through the broken wooden dam. A huge, splintered board gave way, swirling through the current and hitting the barrier of sandbags. It flipped high into the air, sailing over the heads of the workers and landing just beyond them, skidding along the ground.

  Alaynia gasped in horror. If that board had hit anyone, the force of the water behind it would have caused it to pierce completely through the body.

  She glanced around for Cammie and saw her already heading for the line of men and women. She took a step after her, then frowned as she again studied the area. A distant rumble of thunder told her another interval of violent wind and rain was on the way—probably even now deluging the area north of them with torrents. The barrier of sandbags, already shaky, would never withstand the additional onslaught of runoff.

  Her eyes searched for Shain, but the men were unrecognizable, some wearing slickers as she did but all of them drenched and soaking. Suddenly something tugged at her mind, and she could almost swear her thoughts were forming words lured from her subconscious. She felt drawn toward the muddy pit. Instead of joining the line of men and women passing sandbags, she strode to the far edge of the pit and lifted her lantern in order to see into the darkness.

  A flash of lightning aided her, and she could see the fields of cane, nearly covered in roiling currents of water. Her engineering mind calculated the layout of the fields, the irrigation ditch, and the cabins she had just left. Shain was sacrificing his cane by shoring up this side of the ditch, but saving the workers’ cabins—at least for now. Should the barrier of sandbags break, the water would gush through the trees and inundate the cabins, which were on a slightly lower elevation.

 
; Something whispered again in her mind, and Alaynia swung her lantern around. In the next flash of lightning, she saw what was needed. But she had to find Shain. The men would never listen to her. Slipping and sliding in her haste, she raced back around the pit. She nearly lost her balance on one especially rough stretch, and a shadow loomed, catching her before she fell. “Are you all right?”

  She recognized Cole’s voice, and Alaynia dug her fingers into the arm he held out to steady her. “Where’s Shain? You’re going about this the wrong way. You need to change the course of the water in that ditch.”

  “Whoa, Alaynia. Shain rode back to the manor house, to see if maybe there were some tools stored up in the barn loft. We need more shovels.” Cole stared away from her, his face haggard in the lantern light. “What we really need, of course, is about a hundred more people to help out here.”

  “No, you don’t,” Alaynia insisted. “Come with me.”

  “Alaynia, I’ve got to—”

  “Damn it, Cole! That sandbag levee’s never going to hold. Look at it! The water’s risen a couple inches just since I got here, and I’ve only been here about five minutes. But those men have already deepened that pit by filling those bags, and if you’ll put them to working on the other end, I think you can divert enough water to make the levee hold. I don’t know where the water you’d divert would go, though. I need you to come over here and tell me what you think.”

  When Cole continued to hesitate, Alaynia grabbed his hand and started back to the far side of the pit, pulling him with her. Thankfully, Cole followed, because he was way too large for her to force him, should he dig in his heels. She led him to her vantage point of a moment ago, and in the next flash of lightning, pointed to the creek bed she’d noticed before.

  “Look,” she said. “See how that’s laid out in comparison to the irrigation ditch? It looks like this was the old creek bed, and the dam was built on it, then the ditch dug to divert the creek’s path and irrigate the cane fields. But if the men would dig through that ditch wall, the water should flow back into its natural path. The sand pit is deep enough to handle the overflow, until the water recedes some.”

  Stifling her frustration, Alaynia watched Cole scrutinize the creek bed, then glance at the irrigation ditch. The creek bed was over fifty feet wide, but more important, it was at least fifteen feet deep. From what she could tell, the path led in a direction that would not only keep the water from flooding the workers’ cabins, but also allow the water to drain from the cane fields. What she didn’t know, not being familiar with the layout beyond them, was where the water would go once released from the ditch.

  “It might work,” Cole mused. “That creek used to run on back into the hills south of us. In fact, a mile or so from Chenaie, there’s a larger creek that flows into this same gully. It goes all the way to the river, on down past St. Francisville. There’s nothing in the way for the water to damage, even if it overflows those banks.”

  “Then, let’s get busy.”

  “Shain should make this decision ...” Cole began, just as a shout went up from over beside the ditch. They both swung around to see two people steadying a stack of sandbags, while several other people ran toward them with new bags to reinforce the pile.

  Alaynia gasped. “We’ve got to hurry!”

  “Where do you suggest the men dig?” Cole demanded.

  Alaynia hastily explained her plan to Cole, and he strode back around the pit, yelling at the men. At first they didn’t seem to comprehend, but Cole ordered half of them into place on the other side of the pit by the irrigation ditch. Directing the rest of the men to continue filling sandbags, he headed across the pit.

  Alaynia followed him, then studied the barrier of sandbags. “Cole,” she said above the rising wind. “We’ll need to shift some of the sandbags around. That way, when the water starts diverting, we can make sure it moves in the right direction.”

  “Can you handle that?” Cole asked. “I’ll keep an eye on these men, so they’ll dig in the right place and not ruin the entire plan.”

  “If they’ll listen to me,” Alaynia said.

  Raising his voice to be heard by everyone, Cole yelled, “Listen up! We’re going to divert this water, and Miz St. Clair will show you what to do! Pay attention to what she says and follow her orders!”

  Alaynia raced over to the line of men and women and immediately began guiding the placement of the new sandbags. She ordered part of them placed in an intersecting line, and some others as an additional reinforcement to the layer of bags where the water would rush into the pit. She had no idea of how much time passed, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Without the attention to building the barrier higher now, water soon lapped over the top.

  “It’s fixin’ to go!” Cole shouted. “Are you ready down there? Another six inches up here and it’ll flow through on its own!”

  Alaynia quickly took stock, then yelled to Cole, “Ready! Get your men off there, because some of that wall where they’re standing will collapse!”

  Cole motioned the men away, and they scrambled back around the pit. He stayed, and in the next flash of lightning, Alaynia saw him shoveling.

  “Get out of there, Cole!” she screamed. “The force of the water will take care of the rest of it!”

  Another streak of lightning split the air, followed by a crash of thunder. Cole raced along the bank of the pit and the noise of earth giving way sounded even above the rumbling thunder. The sky opened up, and rain poured down as water rushed into the pit and the workers scurried back from the barrier of sandbags.

  Somehow Alaynia sensed something else through the turmoil and whirled, wiping the rain from her eyes as Shain pulled his huge stallion to a halt beside her and leapt from the saddle.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he snarled.

  Ignoring his angry voice, she started to explain what she’d done. “We’ve diverted the water from the ditch,” she said eagerly. “I think the cabins will be safe now, and ...”

  “You think?” Shain growled as Cole joined them. “What did you do?”

  “She had us dig through the irrigation ditch wall and let the water run into that old creek bed,” Cole said, slapping Shain on the shoulder. “Damn, and just in time, too. Look. The water’s droppin’ already.”

  “You risked the lives of my people on some plan you thought might work?” Shain asked in an enraged tone.

  “Hell,” Cole put in before Alaynia could voice her indignation over Shain’s lack of respect for her engineering skills. “If that barrier had collapsed, we’d probably have lost every person here who can’t swim—and some of those who could. You got any idea of the force behind that water? It’s roilin’ down that old creek bed over there like rapids. Alaynia was right about the pit here holdin’ some of the overflow, until the water leveled out.”

  Shain caught her glance briefly, then looked away. The pride in her accomplishment diminished as though eroded by the pouring rain. She looked at the workers, and the moment they saw they had her attention, a ringing cheer went up, followed by another. She tilted her chin and focused again on her sense of achievement as she waved at them. Dawn was approaching, and she could see the men and women around her better now, but the continuing rain would make it yet another dreary day.

  “You need to get back to the house and out of those wet clothes,” Shain said. “Come on. I’ll take you on Black.”

  “You have to post some men here,” Alaynia said. “To keep a watch on the sandbags and reinforce them if necessary.”

  “Damn it, Alaynia, I know what needs to be done next. Get on the horse.”

  Aware of the crowd watching her, Alaynia bit back the sharp retort her mind formed. She stalked over to the black stallion and mounted without waiting for Shain to assist her. Picking up the reins, she stared down at Shain. His strained, worried face tugged at her, but his thinned lips indicated his still-simmering annoyance—or was it dented masculine pride, or perhaps
his chauvinism showing again? Whichever, her own ego had been battered by him, and she was not in a forgiving mood just yet.

  “I’m perfectly capable of riding back to the house by myself,” she said around her tight lips. “I’ll send one of the stable hands back with your horse.”

  Without waiting for his concurrence, she reined the stallion around and headed back for the cabins. Just inside the line of trees, she pulled the horse up and turned. Shain had already taken charge of the workers, motioning for some of them to head back to their homes and others to take up their duties at the ditch.

  He walked over to the side of the pit and stood alone for a few seconds, evidently scrutinizing her handiwork. Her hope that he would finally realize her plan had been the solution to averting the danger to the cabins faded when Shain dropped his head, shaking it slowly and rubbing his hands across his face.

  Chapter 26

  As Madame Chantal has promised, the white dress arrived on Thursday morning. In fact, Madame delivered the dress herself, along with the tangerine dress, and one other dress more appropriate for everyday wear. The rain, which continued intermittently, didn’t appear to bother Madame. She drove a garish buggy painted almost the same color as her orange hair right up to the front steps of Chenaie, and pulled the white horse to a stop with a flourish. Once in the manor house, she herded her two charges ahead of her to Jeannie’s room. For the next hour, Madame flitted around both Alaynia and Jeannie, tucking here and smoothing there, until she was satisfied her creations would suitably impress her current and any potential customers.

  Her tongue flew even faster than her hands, as she chatted about the gossip and rumors her customers had passed on to her—someone’s daughter, who was hastily planning a marriage; someone else’s son, who was driving his poor, widowed mother to distraction by his refusal to select an appropriate wife; another son, who had been seen with a female companion definitely not his betrothed.

  Alaynia listened with half an ear, her mind more on the continuing rift between her and Shain than on the lovely handiwork of Madame Chantal. Her husband hadn’t gone so far as to shun her bed, but he came in late, always well after the evening meal and after she had already crawled into the empty bed first. The thought crossed her mind once that he waited until he saw the light in their bedroom window, then delayed a while after she extinguished it before he entered the house. But she tried to tell herself that he was only consumed with the plantation’s continuing problems.