What could she do, though? She obviously wasn’t planning to let Wilkins abuse her in any way. What she needed to do was get the goods on him with the thefts. Then Sam would fire Wilkins and the rest of the threats wouldn’t matter. First she needed proof. To get that she needed to go back into the overseer’s house. And for her own safety she had to make sure Wilkins wasn’t there when she did.
To do any of that she needed to leave the sanctuary of the bench. Taking a deep breath, she stood. She could do this. She had to do this. It was dark now, with only the light of the waning moon to guide her way. She stepped carefully over the stones in the path, keeping an eye on the light coming from the overseer’s house. Since there was a lamp lit, she assumed he was still in there. With the only lights being live flames, she didn’t imagine people left a light burning when they left the house.
Would he go out at all, or was he in for the night? Should she risk dealing with him, so she could find out what was hidden under that tarp? No. That much was clear. He would rape her, whether he got in trouble for it or not. She was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t already was that he liked keeping her in a state of fear. It was working. No. She would not allow him to control her in this way. Breathe. She had to remember to breathe.
She couldn’t wait out here all night, especially if he wasn’t planning to leave. She would give him ten minutes. She crept closer to the building and through the open window, she heard voices. Since he obviously wasn’t listening to the TV or radio, someone was in there with him.
“That wench?” Wilkins’s voice, full of derision, came clearly through the night air. “Yeah, she was here. She couldn’t wait to bed me. Damn good lay she was, too. I suppose she told you I was the aggressor?”
“She hasn’t told me a thing.” Emily’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Sam’s voice. Why was he in there with Wilkins, and who were they talking about? “I haven’t seen her in several hours. As I told you I’m looking for her. But you say she was here?”
He’d come looking for her. Her shining knight to the rescue. And what was that damn overseer telling him? Her hands clenched into fists. He said he’d slept with her. And that it was her idea? That cur! That jack ass. That… She couldn’t even think of words bad enough to describe it. She needed to go in there and set the record straight.
She took two steps toward the door and stopped as the voices continued.
“She was here. Like I said. Great in bed that one. You should try her.”
And then there was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a thump and crash as someone hit the table. She didn’t waste any more time but hurried into the cottage, where Wilkins was getting back to his feet.
Sam stood in a boxer’s stance, ready to take him on, but she didn’t like his odds. Wilkins clearly outweighed him and had a few inches on him as well. There wasn’t much she could do to help. In a fight he would squash her like a bug. She could perhaps whack him on the head with a frying pan or rolling pin, but neither of those things were in evidence, and she had to act quickly.
What she could do was cause a distraction. Perhaps keep them from killing each other. She darted into the room and pulled the tarp off the things in the corner, hoping beyond hope that it really was the stolen goods and not an innocent pile of dirty clothes.
She’d been expecting perhaps a barrel of flour like she’d seen in the storehouse. What she uncovered were two crates full of wine bottles.
“What’s this?” Her voice was surprisingly steady and loud considering how shaky her knees were.
Wilkins, who was about to punch Sam in the face, stopped, nearly losing his balance.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he snarled, at the same time Sam called out, “Emily, get out.”
She ignored Sam, since she was here to help him, and concentrated on Wilkins.
“This your wine?” She hoped that if he came after her with his fists she could duck fast enough.
“That’s my wine!” Sam’s eyes narrowed and his face turned red as he glared at his overseer. “What’s it doing in here?”
The two men stared at each other, the tension between them filling the room. At least they didn’t seem about to kill each other yet, so that was a plus. Emily stood by the wine, the canvas cloth still in her hand, not sure what her next action should be.
“I can explain.” Wilkins took a step back, most of his bluster gone.
“I’m waiting.” Sam crossed his arms and tapped his foot.
“The cellar was full. I needed to store it somewhere.”
“The cellar is not full.” Sam didn’t move, but his eyes were hard and cold.
“Though it should be,” Emily said, surprised her voice sounded as steady as it did. “Based on the numbers in the ledgers. If I remember correctly, the numbers were off by about four dozen.” She glanced significantly at the twenty-four bottles she’d uncovered. “Where are the rest?”
Wilkins shifted his glance quickly from Sam to Emily, his breathing labored. He gave off the impression of a trapped animal, and she knew that could be dangerous. She looked around for some sort of a weapon, should Wilkins lunge at either of them.
“Let me explain,” A sheen of sweat glimmered on his forehead. He licked his lips and his eyes darted around the room. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re stealing from me.” Sam took a step toward Wilkins
“Yeah. It looks like that. But that’s not the case. I don’t know how those bottles got there. In fact,” with renewed vigor he stood straighter and pointed to Emily. “She did it. I didn’t even know they were there. But she did. She put them there. She came in here earlier, seduced me, and then found a good spot to store her ill gotten gains, all in the hopes of pinning blame on me.”
“What?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. “None of that’s true.”
“Hush,” Sam hissed and Emily glared at him. Was he not going to let her tell her side of the story? Was he going to believe this evil man over her? But when she got a good look at Sam’s face, the worry seeped from her. It was clear he didn’t believe a word Wilkins said.
“I’m placing you under arrest.” Sam uncrossed his arms and took another step forward.
“What?” The larger man bristled. “On what grounds? I told you I didn’t put those things there. It was her. How can you believe her over me? I’ve worked here since you were a boy. Your father trusts me implicitly.”
“I can’t speak for my father. I’m arresting you for theft and for assault on Miss Parks.”
“Assault? What with the whip? You already lashed me for that. You can’t punish me twice for the same thing, besides it was her own fault. She walked in between me and the black wench.”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” Sam growled.
She stared at him. Did he know? But how could he? She hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t even seen him, and if she had, she wouldn’t have said anything. She didn’t want to risk little Dolly, or anyone else, getting hurt on her account.
Wilkins shot her an evil glare, and she forced herself not to look away. He would not intimidate her. She had Sam here, on her side; she had nothing to worry about. Except that Wilkins didn’t seem to be taking the news of a possible arrest easily. With a swiftness that belied his size, he lunged for Sam, grabbing him around the neck.
She reached for the closest thing she could use as a weapon, which happened to be one of the bottles of wine, and swung it at Wilkins’ head with all the force she could muster. The bottle broke, spilling wine everywhere. Wilkins dropped to the floor, letting go of Sam, who righted himself, rubbing his throat.
The neck of the bottle still clutched in her shaking hands, she looked at the unconscious Wilkins. What had she done? Had she killed a man? She never even liked to squish bugs, and she thought mouse traps were terribly mean. “He isn’t dead, is he?” Her voice trembled, and her words were no more than a whisper.
Sam knelt by the wine-
covered overseer and held his hand in front of the prostrate man’s face. “He’s still breathing as far as I can tell.” He stood then and took the broken bottle from her hands. “Thank you. He caught me unawares.”
Her hands, now cold as ice, wouldn’t stop shaking. Her knees had the consistency of wet noodles. Her vision started to go black and white and get spotty.
“I’m going to pass out,” she managed to say before everything went black.
Chapter Twenty
Sam
He scooped Emily up in his arms and hurried toward the house. He needed to get her safe and cared for and then deal with Wilkins. He wasn’t dead and would eventually come to. Sam had to make sure he was in control of the situation when that happened.
Emily began to stir as he passed the kitchen. “It’s all right,” he murmured, his face close to her hair, breathing in the scent of her. She buried her face in his shoulder and he held her a bit tighter.
“I’m so sorry.” Her words were muffled against his jacket.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Sorry? She had saved his life. In fact, she had helped him quite a bit in addition to that. He pushed open the back door to the house and bellowed for Tobias, who appeared in seconds.
“Get Beck. Sally. Anyone who can help.” He carried Emily into the front parlor and placed her on the sofa. She started to sit up, but he put a hand on her shoulder. “Rest.” He kept his voice quiet, but firm, and she settled back down. It would probably be better to bring her upstairs to her room, but he needed to get back to Wilkins. He kept picturing him rousing and taking off. Sam couldn’t risk him being at large. Neither he nor Emily would ever be safe if that were the case. He needed to take him into town for the law to deal with, but that would have to be tomorrow. For tonight he had to make sure he was locked up somewhere, secure and safe.
Sally bustled into the room, stopping when she saw Emily on the couch.
“She fainted. I leave her to your care.” He turned to Tobias. “Come with me.” He didn’t wait to see if his directives would be followed, he knew they would be. He headed out, with only a quick glance at Emily. He’d be back with her once he’d taken care of Wilkins.
In a few words he told Tobias the basics of what happened. “I need a secure place to lock him up for the night.”
“Smokehouse is best. Nothing being smoked right now, and the door fits securely.”
“Good. Come help me with him.” He picked up his pace, afraid to leave the man alone for long.
“What are you going to do about an overseer?” Tobias asked as they approached the cabin.
“I’ll figure it out.” He had no idea. He had to have an overseer. He couldn’t even say he could fill the role himself because he had promised George he’d go off to war with him. Damn the war. Life was complicated enough without that.
Inside the cottage, which smelled strongly of a good Bordeaux, Wilkins still lay where he’d fallen. It would be rather convenient, actually, if he really were dead, except Sam didn’t think Emily could cope with having killed a man. He could finish him off right here, right now. Take that knife on the table and jab it into his heart. It would be easy. Physically easy anyway. It would also be cold-blooded murder, and he didn’t think he had it in him to do that.
He knew, going off to war, that he would likely have to kill someone. He knew it intellectually, but it didn’t seem real, and for now, he didn’t think he could kill a person, not in cold blood, someone he knew. Did that make him weak? Which was the more valiant option, to let the law have him, or to simply protect his loved ones himself?
He took a deep breath to steady himself. He was a poet, not a fighter.
On the ground, Wilkins groaned.
“Hand me that rope.” Sam pointed to a coil near the door, and Tobias reached for it. “We have to get him tied up before he comes to.”
Wilkins opened his eyes as Sam tied the final knot. He tried to move and cursed.
“Hell, Marshall, what you got me trussed up for?”
“I need to make sure you don’t take it in your head to run off before I bring you to the law tomorrow.”
“Where the hell am I going to go with my head feeling like a boulder fell on it? What the hell hit me?” His nose twitched like a rat terrier, and he seemed to become aware he was wet to the skin. “Damn. That was good wine. A shame to waste it.”
“I think it was put to rather good use, myself.”
“Listen, I never harmed the girl.” Wilkins remained defiant, trying to ease himself up on one elbow. “I was just scaring her. I wanted to get back at you for whipping me. I didn’t hurt her. You can ask her. She left me unharmed.”
According to what Dolly had told him, that was true, but there are many ways to hurt a person. You don’t have to injure them physically to inflict harm. Until he could talk to Emily about it and see how she fared, he wouldn’t know how much damage Wilkins had done. But his attack on Emily was not the only issue.
“What else have you stolen from me?” Sam turned a kitchen chair backward and straddled it, looking down on his overseer.
Wilkins seemed to shrink slightly. “Stolen is such a harsh word.”
“Can you think of one better?”
“I was looking out for myself. You didn’t even notice.”
“Of course I noticed.” Though sadly it had taken him way too long to figure out what was going on, and even then only with Emily’s help. If she could help him run this plantation they’d be unstoppable, but sadly neither of them would be here to do that.
“Untie me, Sam.” Wilkins adopted a docile expression, even so far as to giving him a wide-eyed innocent look. “I’m sorry I jumped at you before, though to be honest, you hit me first. You take the wine. We’ll be square. Right?”
“I don’t think so.” It would be easy to let things go back to how they were. But was how they were so good? Wilkins was stealing from him, and not treating the slaves fairly either, and then there was his treatment of Emily and his threats to the slave children. That could not be ignored. Sam stood and pushed the chair aside. “You are relieved of your duties here.” He needed to be sure there was no confusion.
That caught Wilkins attention. “You’re firing me? You’ll never find anyone to replace me. Everyone is enlisting.”
“That’s not your concern.”
He pulled the man to his feet and motioned for Tobias to grab Wilkins’ other arm.
“Where you taking me?”
“The smokehouse for the night. In the morning I’ll take you in to town for the law to deal with.”
He steered Wilkins to the smokehouse.
“This isn’t the end.” Wilkins spat the words out, dropping all pretense of reasonableness.
“It could be,” Sam said in what he hoped was an ominous tone. They reached the smokehouse, and Sam shoved him inside.
“Can you at least untie me?” Wilkins wheedled, adopting a pathetic tone.
Sam glanced at the slaves standing around observing. Wilkins never had any concern for their comfort, especially if they were undergoing a punishment.
“No.” Sam shut and bolted the door.
“Find some strong young bucks to guard this place, will you?” he instructed Tobias. “Oh and send Marcus to me.”
He wasn’t leaving the smokehouse until he knew there was a guard set on it for the night.
Inside the smokehouse Wilkins shouted and cursed and kicked at the door. Keeping his hands tied had been the right choice. If he had not, the man would tear the building apart plank by plank.
Tobias returned with several strong field hands, including Marcus. Sam sized them up. They would do.
“I need a constant guard on this place overnight,” he said without elaborating further. “Marcus, come with me.” He led him a few yards away so they could talk privately.
“The child, Dolly, is sleeping up in the big house with Sally tonight.” This was not the main thing he needed to tell Marcus, but it occurred to him that someone mig
ht be worried about the child.
A look of relief briefly passed over the slave’s face. “I’ll let her mother know. She was afraid she had wandered off and gotten lost. But I don’t imagine that’s why you wanted to speak to me in private.”
“No.” Sam sighed. He was not a natural manager, like his father was. “I’m going to need you to take over as overseer, starting tomorrow.”
Marcus’s eyes widened and Sam hastened to add, “I will pay you what I was paying Wilkins.”
“I thank you kindly, sir.” The man’s voice was thick with emotion. “May I ask what has happened to Wilkins?”
“Right now, he’s locked up in the smokehouse. Tomorrow I’m taking him to the law.”
Sam knew Marcus would not ask what Wilkins had done, and he didn’t feel inclined to tell him. He did not need the story of Emily’s abduction and humiliation spread throughout the slave quarters.
“Make sure he doesn’t get out,” Sam added and headed back up toward the house and to Emily.
Emily, who had come to his aid without being asked, who had put her own safety at risk, so she could help him. He couldn’t imagine Dinah ever doing that, though he never would have expected her to. The man is supposed to take the risks, not the woman. The man is the one who should come to the rescue and protect the woman, not the other way around. But yet, knowing that she had done that for him made him feel loved in a way he hadn’t since he was a small child at his mother’s knee.
He and Emily, they would take care of each other. That’s what really being in love was about, wasn’t it? He needed to see her and tell her he could never live without her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emily
She couldn’t stop shaking. Even when Sally wrapped a crocheted afghan around her shoulders. What had she done? She could go to jail for assault, or murder if he died. She hoped he didn’t die. Yet, she wouldn’t be terribly sad if he did. She shivered again.
Dolly had followed Sally into the room like a little duckling and now snuggled up next to Emily. “Did the bad man hurt you again?”
Emily's Song Page 18
