BayouBabe99er (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (4 page)

Drake confessed, “I was going to the car to get my camera.”

“Oh.”

“I’d appreciate it very much, Sharlene, if you’re the Mouton who doesn’t hold grudges.”

“What you’re looking into is greater than hurt feelings. It could mean life or death to this community.” She left him, heading for the house to loop a strip of cloth on the handrail. Sharlene did the same action on the dock rail as they piled into the boat.

A couple of quick yanks on the starter string produced a cough. “Gas.”

Drake stopped Sharlene’s attempt to leave the boat. “Tell me where and I’ll get it.”

“To the right of the door in the shed.” She watched him lope away, deciding it prudent to offer a bit of advice. “There’s another stick over there. Use it to scatter sleeping critters before getting the can.”

Drake screeched to a stop. “I can do this.” He gave himself a pep talk, relied on her instructions, and returned to the skiff with success written all over his face.

Gassed up, they were off.

The pirogue’s tiny motor pushed them deeper into the marsh bypassing masses of water lilies hugging the perimeter. So far, their search for oil proved fruitless. And that was a good thing because hoop nets dotted the outer area. Those results met with Sharlene’s approval. Drake’s fascination with the swamp was exhibited in the way his camera whirred at the press of the button.

Sharlene left a flag at every turn.

“Almost like Hansel and Gretel.”

He had recovered, she realized by his teasing tone. “It’s picturesque, Drake. But don’t let the idyllic setting lure you to carelessness. The denseness of this swamp can swallow a body whole.” Drake swung and snapped numerous times, capturing her against the natural backdrop.

They traveled the narrow ways, sometimes losing sight of the sun through the overhanging and binding branches. It reappeared lower on the horizon, indicating the length of time spent on what turned out to be a wild goose chase. Sharlene decided to pack it in and maneuvered the craft around the next bend. One last search place came to mind.

“I’m glad this was a waste of your time,” he said.

“Not a complete waste. Allowed me to concentrate on something other than my pitiful problems.” Honesty was her strong suit. Saying something personal like that to a complete stranger was uncharacteristic.

Sitting backward on his seat to face her, Drake’s stare held open curiosity. This event brought to mind the last time he felt so emotionally connected. He faced the heart-wrenching rawness rather than withdrawing psychologically as he’d always done in the past.

Drake took aim with the camera, zooming in for the perfect shot. Sharlene never altered her expression. What she offered right then was a look into her inner soul. That was a look the camera didn’t do justice.

A spirit-connecting shiver rocked him.

Sharlene devoted all of her energies to keeping her mind on the delicate operation and off the feelings of infatuation warring inside of her. Her sensitivity heightened. The stagnant water smell in places absent of sunlight drifted passed her nose. Feathery wisps of wind touched her skin. Every stimulus around her sharpened.

The sight of dark, gooey slickness clinging to Cypress knees put her back in a serious frame of mind. The shutter snaps ceased when Drake read her current expression. Swinging forward, he immediately began logging the unfortunate sight. “Damn!”

“What’s next?” Sharlene asked.

“A fight.”

She brought them safely through the alternate route, noting the heavy coverage of oil ended where the passage forked. They were chugging along on the return route when the three-propeller trolling motor clogged in debris. Sharlene saw an unwelcomed sight when she looked up ahead. “Oh, no!”

He whipped her way.

“Water lilies.”

He looked away. “Yeah. So?”

The motor resisted her efforts at clearing the strangling vines from its blades. “We’re stuck.”

“No, we’re not.” Drake sounded confident. “We have the pole.”

She exclaimed with a smile, “The pole!” Wrangling it from under the seat with a little too much enthusiasm courted disaster. The end hit the under-seat, Sharlene lost her grip, and the life-saving stick slipped into the murky water. “No-o-o!” she cried, peering over the side.

“Well,” he said to reduce her ire, “I can clear a path by hand.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Hopefully, there are other
fools
out today besides us.”

“Have you seen anyone else all day?”

He had a point. “No.”

“Then we don’t have a choice.”

Sharlene noticed a defiant look in his black eyes. She gave a stern warning with a hand on his shoulder. “This place is called Alligator Bayou.” She ordered him to reconsider. “We wait, Drake. There’s no other choice.”

* * * *

Drake gulped because a log in the lilies submerged right on cue. “I’m sorry, Sharlene. To have gotten you in this mess.”

“Like you twisted my arm.”

“I should have resisted.”
I was too tempted by just being in your company.

“Uncle Moot’ll find us.”

Looking at the marshy jungle inspired little hope in him. “How can he?” She had the gall to laugh a throaty vibration that closed her eyes in enjoyment. She was the only one basking in the moment. Nevertheless, he soaked up all the charm she exuded, even in those uncertain moments.

“He knows these swamps like every line in his face.” When he seemed doubtful, she added, “Plus the breadcrumbs will help.”

His skeptical look caused another laugh to puncture the deathly quiet, scattering the birds from the trees. Drake followed their flight, a smile of his own slipping across his face. “You do that so easily.”

“What?”

“Laugh.”

“Hmmm. Sometimes that’s all you have left.”

They lapsed into silence. Drake fiddled with his camera for lack of anything better to do.

“Can I see?” Sharlene broke the silence, rocking the boat as she shifted to get closer.

“Sure.” He handed her the camera after toggling the dial to slideshow.

“You have a good eye. The pictures of the swamp are magnificent,” she complimented. Her thumb continued to hit the back button until one of her popped up. “I hate taking pictures. But I guess this one’ll do.” She turned the screen to him.

“I’ll say.” Taking the camera back, he scrolled to another. “Now, this one deserves a frame.”

She hesitated when he handed it for her to see. Sharlene made a face. “Ummm.”

“You know you like it,” he teased. She rewarded him with her fabulous grin. “Told you.”

* * * *

The urge to continue the slideshow garnered her attention. Soon, the subjects turned personal. “Is this your wife?” A dark-haired woman heavy with child showed screen after screen. “She’s lovely.” Finally, Sharlene looked up.

That miserable look was back on Drake’s face.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

His answer was trancelike. “She is—eh—was my wife.”

Was
could mean any number of things. She hoped it meant
was
as in
was but now we’re not together
instead of
was
but she’s
— Sharlene halted that train of thought. “Me and my big mouth.”

All of a sudden, she desperately tried to get the motor going.

“Sharlene, it’s all right,” he soothed.

“No, Drake. It isn’t.” She pulled and pulled, forcing him to risk capsizing them to stop her erratic behavior. Each of his hands claimed one of hers. Words failed her as her eyes shut in sorrow. The feel of his thumbs massaging the backs of her hands opened them back up.

He didn’t force the interaction. It just happened. Not another sound passed their lips while they submerged themselves in the other’s eyes. The gentleness of the handhold surpassed the need for communication.

It was the climax of her day.

The orange ball in the sky blinded her with its intense brightness as it slid closer to the water. Along with the waning light came a horde of flying insects. Shooing and slapping did no good. Mosquitoes zeroed in on them, stinging in swift repetition.

“Ow!” The kamikaze pests dived at the skin on her bare arms and legs. She could tell he felt responsible for her plight even though he had his own battle raging.

“Come here.”

Sharlene allowed him to move her to the flat bottom in front of him. She reveled in the way he hovered over and around her in his efforts to fend off the attacking swarm. “My apologies for bringing up what I know are terrible memories,” she uttered, rubbing at the stinging skin on her legs.

* * * *

Drake took his voluntary duty to heart, answering, “That awful time will be with me for the rest of my life. It’s just like the night swallowing us up as we sit like sticks in the mud. Nothing we can do because life goes on all around us.”

His pain was profound. “My wife and baby died in childbirth.”

She swiveled in the new darkness to cast enormous eyes on him. “That just doesn’t happen today. Maybe years ago when I had my girls.” Her voice diminished to a whisper. “Not today.”

“Unfortunately, it does.”

“Oh, Drake,” Sharlene moaned. “I’m…so…sorry for your loss. You’re young. Just give it time.”

Any response he considered died on his lips when a throttle echoed in the inky blackness. Streaks of light sliced through the trees. Sharlene jumped to cut off his yell with a hand to his mouth. Drake dragged her fingers from his lips. “They can’t find us if they don’t know we’re here.”

“Exactly.”

He sensed rather than saw her wary expression. “You’re afraid.”

“Cautious is more like it. We could be taken for poachers stealing traps. Or they might be poachers. Do you understand?”

“Sitting ducks,” he surmised. “That’s what we are.”

“Not necessarily. The traps were in the waterway. As long as we’re silent, they’ll pass us by.” She prayed that into truth for the boat continued on by.

Yet, to his chagrin, the sound veered back in their direction, coming nearer at a steady pace. “Get back by the motor,” he ordered with his hands firmly under her armpits for the lift. His voice brooked no defiance as he planted her there. “Sit on the bottom.”

“Drake?”

“Don’t talk,” he commanded. “And—keep still.”

Her heart pounded in her chest loud enough to give their location away. Out of the blue, the brilliant white light hit them. Drake sat defenseless. But he’d be damned if he wimped out.

“Maybe I can reason with them,” she whispered. “I know a lot of the people here. I’m sure they’ll remember me.”

He debunked that suggestion without turning by shaking his head “no”. Her warm palm on his back instilled in him the will to go down fighting. He owed her. And—he would protect her at all costs.

The metallic reverberation of a cocked weapon assaulted his ears. Drake jerked around because Sharlene lunged from her hiding place against his order.

“I’m a Mou—”

He heard her breath snag as she caught an elbow to the middle when he reacted to her outburst. As he fought to save her, the force of the blow knocked her off-balance, and she toppled over—right into the marsh.

Drake didn’t waste a second debating what to do. His arms submerged to pluck her straight out by the elbows with a big heave-ho that sprawled them on the bottom of the boat. Bullets whizzed by their moving bodies into the very spot of water she vacated.

“Get closer!” The recognizable accent shouted orders. More shots rang out. “Dumbass kids!”

Sharlene’s tremors caused Drake to fit her reclined body closer to his.

“What ’cha say, Moot? A waste of good alligator, if ya ask me.” Clyde lamented the creature’s destruction. “No hide. No meat.”

Apparently that was all it took to tickle Sharlene’s funny bone. Containing her mirth was impossible. She clung to Drake, seemingly unable to shut down her laugh attack. The gentle way he wrapped her up—stroked her back—seemed to calm her to take a cleansing breath.

He was glad when her hysterical laughter quieted. “You’re safe, now.”

Somehow, she actually felt that way and cuddled comfortably against the length of his body.

Sharlene fidgeted between the two men as Moot drove them back to his house. Drake, the interloper, rode along purely at the whim of her uncle’s good nature—toward his niece. She was sure her tongue-lashing time would come. The Mouton men whipped one first with silence.

Moot doled out deep, measured breaths. “Coulda got yo’self killed.”

“I know.” She stopped scratching long enough to kiss his wrinkled cheek, remembering she smelled like muck. “I’m glad you didn’t let that happen.”