Claire

by Margaret Tanner

  “Sonofabitch.”

  “It was better than selling myself in the street.”

  His mouth twisted, his eyes condemned her. “Surely you could have done something else.”

  “I couldn’t get a job. I tried after Maisie’s diner where I used to work closed. I wore out the soles of my shoes I walked so much, lost Randy’s baby because of it.” She scrubbed the tears away with her fingertips. “Don’t you think I hate myself? I signed a contract with De Rosa. He won’t let me go because of what I overheard, in fact, he plans to on-sell me to a man who owns one of those whore ships on the river. That’s if he doesn’t kill me.”

  “I’ll go to the law, tell them what happened.”

  “You can’t, Aaron. Don’t you understand? He owns the law, politicians, judges, they all visit The Gilded Cage, they’ll kill you, too, and I couldn’t bear it. I shouldn’t have come here and put you in danger. Wouldn’t have if I’d known the Texan the maids were talking about was you.”

  “Don’t get overwrought.” He patted her on the head, like one would a pet dog. “Let me think.”

  “I need to sneak away from here while it’s dark and hide out somewhere. It’s my only chance. If De Rosa wakes up and starts searching, and he will. I’m dead. He uses blood hounds.”

  “Surely not?”

  “Yes, yes, like in the slave days, when a slave escaped from their owners he set the blood hounds on to them.”

  “That’s it.” Aaron snapped his fingers. “I was browsing through De Rosa’s library yesterday and reading about slave escape routes. There’s a tunnel under this house, leading to a cave near the river. The runaway slaves used to wait there until someone came to pick them up by boat and take them to a safe house. I’ve got a full money belt.”

  “Give me some of the money and help me out the window and no-one will ever know I was here.”

  “No, I let you down once before, I won’t do it again, no matter what it costs.”

  “Am I worth your life?”

  “Yes. We’ll both go. There’s a trap door hidden in the root cellar. We find that, follow it to wherever it leads and then decide how to get back to Texas. If we make De Rosa believe we’re dead, all the better.”

  “Please, Aaron.” She touched his arm and he didn’t flinch this time.

  “We’ll be safe at the Triple K. He won’t have the power in Texas that he does in Louisiana. Here, put this on.” He stepped over to the wardrobe and pulled out a waistcoat. “It could get cold. I haven’t got anything else suitable. Your feet are bare. Put on a couple of pairs of socks it will help protect them.” He buckled on his gun belt, the twin holsters resting against his slim hips.

  “Do you know where the kitchen is?” she asked.

  “Yes, Lucille showed me around the place, except her father’s wing. He probably told her to stay away so she wouldn’t see what went on in there.”

  “She knows.”

  “What!”

  “She’s visited The Gilded Cage plenty of times to choose doves for her male friends.”

  “That couldn’t be right.”

  “Of course it is. Don’t put her on a pedestal, Aaron, she doesn’t deserve it.”

  “She’s a sweet young lady.”

  “Sweet!” She wanted to tell him exactly what she was like – rich, spoilt and immoral. Biting back the angry words almost choked her. Now was not the time to tell him it was common knowledge amongst the doves that she was having relations with one of the Creole men who prowled The Gilded Cage, to deal with any troublemakers. Like wealthy men, rich women could get away with anything.

  Aaron opened the door and checked the hallway. Mercifully it was empty. Stealthily they crept along like thieves in the night. He ensured the stairs were clear before beckoning her over.

  They made it to the kitchen safely. Heat still came from the stove although the fire had burned down. In the early hours of the morning the cook would be down to stoke it up and start preparing breakfast.

  “Where in tarnation is the wretched root cellar?”

  “Under the mat.” She whipped it up and was rewarded by sighting a steel ring. How could they re-position the mat once they entered the cellar? Claire emptied a kettle of water over it, hung the mat over a chair in front of the fire so it looked as if someone was trying to dry it out.

  “Clever gal.”

  A dozen steps led down into the root cellar. She went first and Aaron slid the cover back into place with a slight thud. He lit one of the lamps and they searched for the tunnel entrance.

  “It’s over there somewhere.” He pointed. “It goes under the backyard which runs directly to the river.”

  They both searched for it, becoming more and more frantic when they couldn’t find it. Another couple of hours at most was all they had before someone would come to the kitchen.

  Claire was trembling, the thought of what De Rosa would do if he caught her was frightening, but she was terrified for Aaron.

  She shouldn’t have got him involved. She had ruined everything for him. He had lost Lucille, and could well lose his life because of her.

  One wall was paneled in wood, the rest stone. Aaron kept tapping around. “It’s hollow here.” He pushed against the wooden wall. Nothing happened. “There’s probably a hidden spring somewhere, I remember reading about it.”

  “Here.” Claire dropped to her knees. “Right down the bottom, in the corner. See, it’s a bit more worn than the rest.” She ran her hand across the area. Nothing happened.

  She tried an up and down movement. There was a grating sound and part of the wall swung open. The suddenness almost catapulted her into the black depths.

  Aaron held up the lamp, a steep stone staircase led downward. They stepped inside and he pushed the door shut. The air was stale, almost fetid as they clambered down the steps.

  It was cold and she was glad of the extra warmth Aaron’s waistcoat and his socks provided. It would have been pitch black except for the lamp.

  “I wonder how many poor souls passed through here,” she said.

  “Quite a few I would say. Seems very organized.”

  How many slaves had died she wondered trying to suppress a shudder. The ceiling, floor and walls were rock, coated with dirt, muddy in places where water had seeped through and turned dust into mud. She edged closer to Aaron as they walked in single file. This place smelt of death and decay. If there was a rock fall they would be entombed. Their bodies never to be found.

  “This is an awful place.”

  “Yeah, knowing the history it sure is. The first thing we’ll need to do is get you clothes. I don’t fancy the idea of any other man’s eyes on those pretty white legs of yours.”

  He obviously still cared for her as a friend; not as a future wife that was for sure.

  “Thank you for doing this for me. You’ve sacrificed a lot because of it.”

  “Not as much as you sacrificed because of my family. What Pa did to your Ma, I tried to stop him. I swear I did.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, I never blamed you or Randy. Your father was a ruthless cruel man. If I had known what he was doing to her, I would have talked my mother into leaving years ago. I thought he was a nice man, coming over for visits so she wouldn’t be lonely.” Her voice broke. “Instead he was violating her. How could I have been so foolish? So blind?”

  “You weren’t to know, you were only a child and Pa made sure Randy kept you out of the way. Even he didn’t wake up to what was happening for a long time.”

  The tunnel was sloping downward now, and Claire could feel a slight breeze on her face.

  “Not much further, I’m guessing.” Aaron held the lamp up. “We’ll have to put it out soon in case the entrance is open.”

  They travelled another hundred feet or so. “I’ll snuff the lamp out now. As soon as I do, stand still until your eyes get used to the dark. It won’t be pitch black now, because it’s a clear moonlit night and we’re close to the entrance.”

  “How do y
ou know?”

  “The air is fresher.”

  “I was thinking that, too. Oh, Aaron do you think we’ll make it?”

  “Yes. We’re Texans, of course we’ll make it.

  “I swear on Ma’s grave, I’ll never set foot in Louisiana again as long as I live. Probably be a death sentence for me, anyway.”

  The tunnel suddenly turned sharply to the right and they found themselves in a small cave, somewhere close to the river by the sound of rushing water. The entrance was overgrown with bushes.

  Aaron carefully parted a few branches and peered out. “Not long before dawn by the looks of it,” he said.

  “Where are we?”

  “I’m not sure, close to the river that’s obvious and the lights of town don’t seem far away. I can’t make out much else. Will you be all right if I scout around a bit to get my bearings before it gets too light?”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, you’re half naked and shoeless. There could be prickles or anything around, snakes even. It’s too dangerous.”

  “What about you?” She couldn’t bear it if something happened to him because of her.

  “I’m fully clothed. If I do run into De Rosa’s men I could say I went for a walk and got lost. Actually, I should return to De Rosa’s house.”

  “What!”

  “If I disappear they’ll probably search for me. I’ll make sure I’m so obnoxious they’ll ask me to leave. I can move into a hotel, get you some clothes and return.” He gnawed his lip. “It would mean you being left here alone for longer than I’d like, but you can’t go anywhere dressed like that. Then we can make plans.”

  “All right, whatever you say.” What he said made sense. She feared for him. “Please be careful. I love you, Aaron, I always have.”

  The breath whistled from between his teeth.

  “You married Randy.”

  “I liked him a lot and I know he loved me, although I never loved him the way a wife should love her husband. We had to get married, well, the way things were, it made it easier. Well, we thought it would, Ma suggested it.”

  “We’ll talk further later, I have to go.”

  After Aaron disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness, Claire’s fears and sadness escalated. She’d confessed her love for him. He had said nothing, which meant he hadn’t loved her before and certainly didn’t love her now, after the life she had led.

  Tears pricked her eyes. She would never return to the Triple K ranch, even if he asked her to be his mistress. To watch him wed another, which he would one day do, then she would be banished from his life, or worse still, if she stayed, would see his children. She couldn’t put herself through such torture. No, if they escaped into Texas she would leave him and let him find happiness with a woman he would be proud to introduce as his wife, not someone like her.

  Chapter Five

  Aaron checked outside to make sure no one else was lurking around before slipping into the night. Hopefully, he could sneak back into his room before any of the servants were up and about.

  The mansion was ablaze with lights as he strode up the tree lined drive. Lucille’s screams piercing the air had him running inside following the sound.

  What in tarnation was going on? He came to a skidding halt in Lucille’s private parlor. Dressed in her nightgown and robe she marched up and down the room, yelling obscenities like a drunken sailor. Her maid was trying to calm her down as was her father.

  “Now, Angel, please….”

  “You dirty low-down skunk,” she shrieked on spotting him. Dashing over she slapped his face so hard his head snapped back. Had she been a man he would have knocked her down.

  “What in tarnation is going on?” He caught her hand midair as she made to slap him again.

  “Where is that filthy bed faggot? Thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” She snatched up the robe Claire had been wearing and looked ready to ram it down his throat.

  “I….I can explain.”

  “Michael stepped between them. “Where is that slut, I’ll flay the skin off her back when I get hold of her.”

  “How should I know? I….I….um found her wandering around outside my room. You said I could avail myself of any of your whores?”

  “Not here,” he growled. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, she um, entertained me for an hour or so and I must have fallen asleep.”

  “You fornicated with some slut three rooms away from where I slept. You, you dirty Texan pig,” Lucinda shouted. “You’re not fit to lick my boots. I want him out of this house, Papa – now. How dare a man do this to me, Lucille De Rosa? I’m the belle of Louisiana. Aren’t I, Papa?”

  “Yes, my angel you are. He’s not worthy of you. I want you out of here, Kirby now?”

  Aaron couldn’t believe his luck. What a vicious shrew Lucille was, her demure lady-like demeanor had sure fooled him.

  “And where do I stay at this hour of the night?”

  “Sleep in the gutter.” Lucille stamped her foot. “It’s where you belong.”

  “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll be gone within five minutes.”

  Lucille stomped out of the room.

  “Where’s that whore?” Michael glared at him.

  “How would I know? She was gone when I woke up. Dirty little whore.” He nearly vomited with distaste, inwardly hating himself because this was the kind of filthy talk De Rosa understood.

  “I’ve had plenty better in my bed.” He rocked back on his heels. “She was hardly worth the effort.”

  Angry red suffused De Rosa’s cheeks.

  “You’re better off without her. I hope she threw herself in the river and drowned. Cut your losses, she’s not worthy of anymore of your attention, if you want my opinion.”

  “I don’t want your opinion.”

  “Why waste time with the likes of her?”

  “She cost me money,” De Rosa snarled.

  “For goodness sake.” Aaron gave a contemptuous laugh. “You’re telling me you can’t afford to lose one whore?”

  “It’s the principle of the thing. I want to make an example of her.”

  “And let the other whores at The Gilded Cage know she bested both of us?”

  “Well….”

  “How far is she going to get. Unless she stole clothes, she’s naked. If she doesn’t die of exposure, some dirty drunken sonofabitch will take her for his bed faggot.” Aaron couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of his mouth. He inwardly cringed with disgust, to speak so disrespectfully of any woman, let alone Claire.

  The words were taking effect. He could sense the older man fighting between vanity and greed.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between Lucille and me. Deep down I knew a rancher wasn’t good enough for a gal like her. A titled gentleman would be more appropriate.”

  “True, true. My little angel would make a perfect Lady.” He tugged at a bell cord and within seconds a man servant answered his summons. “Get a maid to pack Mr. Kirby’s bag and find someone to drive him into town.”

  “Thank you.”

  Michael lit a cigar and puffed on it. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  “What about? Oh, the whore, forget about her, a man in your position doesn’t need to worry about the likes of her. Chances are someone will be fishing her out of a canal in a week or so. If it were me, I’d forget she ever existed. Why waste more time and money on her, you have better things to do.”

  “A few of my men could go after her. The dogs might flush her out.”

  “And risk losing valuable animals for the likes of her?” Aaron gave a dismissive shrug and turned away. “It’s up to you, of course, I certainly wouldn’t be bothering. She’s probably already at the bottom of the river.”

  They were interrupted by a male servant bringing his bags. “You want me to drive Mr. Kirby into town, Monsieur?”

  “Yes, take him to the Centurion Hotel, it’s closest to the railway station.” The
words in themselves were innocuous enough. Aaron sensed what the undertones of animosity meant. Get out of New Orleans or else.

  Once he got Claire he couldn’t wait to leave this place. New Orleans would never see him again.

  The carriage pulled up outside the door and Aaron had to force himself not to run down the front steps. “Goodbye, Michael. I’m sorry for how things turned out.”

  He received a haughty stare in reply.

  His relief at leaving the De Rosa mansion was tempered only by his worry about leaving Claire in the cave. What if she was discovered? He was almost tempted to hightail it back there, but without clothes, where could he take her? Boys clothing, the thought suddenly popped into his head as he clambered into the carriage and the servant slammed the door shut. Obviously he wasn’t too happy having to get up at dawn to drive into town.

  The Centurion Hotel was old, stately looking. Several rounded indentations marred the smoothness of the brickwork. Bullet holes from the war perhaps?

  The servant came around to open the carriage door for him and he stepped out on to the cobblestone footpath. His bag was dumped next to him, the man leapt back into the driver’s seat, cracked his whip and the carriage took off, leaving him standing alone.

  He wouldn’t be staying here. De Rosa probably had connections at this place. Better to stay somewhere small, less salubrious. He walked away without a backward glance.

  The sudden aroma of baking bread assailed his nostrils. A bakery, yes, they would open early. He needed food for Claire. He couldn’t risk her coming out of the cave in daylight, it was too easy to be seen, unless she was wearing boy’s clothing.

  Following his nose, he traversed a couple of narrow streets until he found the bakery shop. His mouth watered and he wondered how he could be so selfish as to think of his stomach while Claire was in danger.

  He bought a long bread roll with a French sounding name and a couple of pastries from a red faced, dumpy little man.