Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] (35 page)

“I just never dreamed that Fish was like this,” Berry said, still looking across the room at the bearded woodsman who leaned so carelessly against the wall.

“Fish’s rotten clear through. He’d have to be to kill a man who had saved his life,” Rachel said venomously. “All the time he was here, he was play-acting. He bragged about it. He’d heard about the gun and came here with the excuse that he wanted to be a gunsmith. Fain is so good, so trusting. He took him at his word.”

“But how’d he get tied up with Linc Smith?”

“He’s using him, just as he’s using those other two stupid fools that came with him. They’re like big, dumb ox. They’ve not got brains enough to know they’ll get nothin’ from the gun.” Rachel raised her voice and looked pointedly at Jackson. “Does she have to stay tied up? Are you afraid she’ll overpower you and take your gun?” she taunted.

“Ya c’n take ’em off her feet. Her hands stay.”

Rachel knelt and worked at the strip of rawhide. Berry looked over her head to the man in the chair. His eyes were as dark and intent as the ugly Indian’s had been and she felt chilled to the bone. Rachel stood, pulled Berry to her feet, and turned to the man whose presence was like a deadly gloom hanging over them.

“You may be part human after all, Mr. Jackson,” she said with a proud lift to her chin.

Jackson said nothing, but pinpoints of light glittered in his dark eyes and his head moved in the briefest of nods.

“They’ll kill Simon.” The dreaded words burst from Berry. She felt as if she were about to tumble into the pit of darkness again. “Can’t we do something?”

Rachel put her arm around her and led her to the window. Silhouetted against the red wash of the evening sky, Simon hung, shirtless, his bound hands pulled up and tied to a branch. His head hung between his arms, and his legs sagged. He was making an effort to stiffen his legs to take the pressure off his arms. Berry couldn’t see his face, but she could see the red, bleeding cuts on his back made by a whip.

“God in heaven!” Berry whispered in a stricken voice. “They’ll kill him!”

“He’s not dead yet,” Rachel hissed. “Buck up, for God’s sake. We can’t do a thing if we fall to pieces.”

“What can we do?” Berry’s lips barely moved. Huge tears blurred the figure of her lover.

Rachel put her arms around her, pressed her cheek to hers, and whispered, “A rifle under my mattress. We’ve got to bide our time.” She moved back and with her fingertips wiped the tears from Berry’s cheeks. “These men had all merciful feeling crushed out of them a long time ago. They have few human qualities. They’ve lived as vultures and scavengers so long they don’t know how to live like decent folks. I doubt that Mr. Jackson ever lived in a house. He spits on the floor!”

Berry vaguely heard Rachel’s words through the fog of her emotional turbulence. She glanced at the man beside the cradle. His eyes were on Rachel, and it seemed to Berry that they had not moved from Rachel’s face since she had first looked at him.

“Well . . . I see you’ve recovered from your swoon.”

Fish came through the door from the dogtrot. He removed his hat and carefully smoothed his hair with his palms. His boots struck dull echoes on the plank flooring, and Berry turned to look at him as if seeing him for the first time. The long, red scratches down his cheek and his puffed lips gave her a breath of pleasure that was instantly smothered as fury tore through her, shutting off her breath. She started to speak, choked, and gulped down spittle and air.

“You . . . pukey little weasel! You lyin’, wishywashy bastard!” Berry shouted, blindly searching for some word that would convey her complete disgust. “You pissant! You addle-brained fool! You got no feelings at all!” She fought her rage in a shaking voice. “You’re worse than a savage, worse than Linc Smith.”

“Watch your mouth, Berry,” Fish said curtly. “If I’m more of a savage than Linc, perhaps you’d like to join him. I tried to keep you out of this. I’m sure Rachel has lost no time telling you about that. I’ll not take you with me now. The picture has changed. Meanwhile, I’ll use you and Simon as a lever to keep Fain working. I’ve already told him that Simon gets five lashes with the black snake for every hour he delays. We’ll soon find out how much of a man your lover is. He’ll be begging for death before long.”

“Damn you to hell! I’ll cut your heart out!” She was close to losing control. She took a long, slow breath to steady herself. “You’ll die for this.”

For an endless moment Fish stood staring at the cold-eyed girl. He was not surprised by the lethal hatred he saw in her face. He expected it. She was the type of woman who loved with all her heart and hated passionately.

“You’re not using good judgment spewing your hatred, Berry. I can see now that it would have been a mistake to take an uncivilized woman like you back east to mix with genteel womenfolk, regardless of your beauty.” His eyes were flat and still, his voice as void of resonance as a drum struck with the palm of the hand. “If you’re so anxious to see killing done, perhaps we can start with Rachel.” He paused to see the effect of his words. “But then, I’ve half-promised her to Emil.”

The legs of Jackson’s chair hit the floor. “Emil ain’t havin’ ’er.”

“So you fancy her too, Jackson? Things may get interesting before this is over,” Fish said, grimly amused. “That leaves Berry, the kid, and the nigger.” He spoke to Jackson as if the women were not in the room. “Fain would know I mean business if we hang the kid up out there where he can see it.”

A scream of acute agony came from Rachel. She sprang forward, snatched the baby up in her arms, and backed toward the sleeping room, her eyes wild in her white face.

Jackson, within easy reach of her, sat stoically. He didn’t move a muscle to stop her.

Fish rocked forward and brought both hands crashing down on the table with a violence that jarred the crockery. “What the hell game are you playing, Jackson?” His face was suffused with crimson. “You getting soft? You’ll back my hand, or else you’re out!” He straightened his bearing, his blue eyes hard in a face that looked young but wasn’t. “I should have had Emil in here with the women.”

Rachel was crying silently, helplessly, her eyes shifting from one man to the other.

“I never dreamed that men could be such beasts!” Berry said in a shaking voice.

Fish ignored her. “Are you so smitten with the woman you’ll not carry out my orders, Jackson?”

Jackson spat on the floor. “Time ain’t right.”

“You’re giving orders now?”

“Killin’ the kid’d rattle the man. I’m a-wantin’ him to get the job done so I c’n be gone.” Jackson’s unblinking eyes never left Fish’s face.

Silence closed in so completely that Rachel’s ragged breathing was all that was heard. Fish swiveled his head around to look at her, then back to Jackson.

“You may be right,” he said thoughtfully. “We’ll string up the nigger.”

Berry felt as if she had been hit in the stomach. The air left her lungs. Her bound hands flew to her mouth. It was no idle threat. They would kill gentle, faithful Israel as if he were no more important than a dog.

“Please . . . please don’t hurt Israel. He’s simple-minded. He’d not hurt a fly.”

“Are you begging, Berry?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes. Please, don’t do this awful thing to Israel.”

“Where is he, Rachel?” Fish set his hat carefully on his head. “I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“I don’t know. He’s so scared he might’ve run off in the woods. He’ll come if you call him.”

“You’d better hope he does.” He looked pointedly at the child in her arms. “The hour is almost up. It’s time to give Simon another taste of the lash.”

“Fish, don’t? Berry cried. “Please . . . don’t! I’ll do anything you want—anything at all!”

“Are you offering to sleep with me?” He threw back his head and loosed a whoop of derisive laughter. “Do you think I’d take you to bed after you’ve been in the woods with a couple of filthy Indians and a backwoods buck like Simon Witcher? That’s what he is, Berry, in spite of the little trading business he runs. You’ve nothing to offer me now. I’ve screwed the highest-paid whores in Europe. Save yourself for Linc.” His mouth twisted sarcastically. “He’s looking forward to showing you a few new tricks. He’s half-crazed since you made an animal out of him. He deserves some . . . consoling.”

Silence fell over the room when he left it, a strange unwanted silence. Rachel, her chin resting on her collarbone, rocked the child in her arms. This silent agony was harder for Berry to endure than moaning and wailing. She put her bound hands to her mouth in an effort to hold back the screams that were demanding release.
Think,
she told herself sternly, and forced her mind out of its crazy spin and into a calmer channel.

“Please . . . help us,” she said to the silent man in a harsh croak. “We’ve done nothing to you. If it’s money, Simon will give you some.”

Jackson’s eyes slid to her for only an instant, then back to Rachel. He tilted the back of his chair against the wall and with dark, unfathomable eyes watched the blond woman and the child.

Rachel lifted her head and looked at him. Her white face was contorted, and her full lips quivered. There was a soundless outpouring of grief from her blue eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. She shook her head, her eyes still holding his. Finally she said in a hoarse whisper, “Thank you.”

*    *    *

The fire that blazed across Simon’s back hauled him up from the depth of darkness. He grunted under the searing pain. He heard the swish of the leaded whip as it came down across his back like a white flame. He sagged, the rawhide bonds tearing into the flesh of his wrists. He spun on his toes and exposed his chest to the white-hot agony of the next blow, which brought his voice tearing up and out of him. He lifted his head to the sky.

“Ber . . . ry . . . I love you! I love you!” he bellowed.

Pinpoints of light danced crazily around behind his unseeing eyes as the whip sent flames of pain writhing across his back, shoulders, and arms. The enveloping heat engulfed him until his flesh could no longer send the message of torture and terror to his brain. He hung limply, accepting the blows. I’m dying, he thought. I wanted to tell Berry I love her. I wish I had time. . . .

From somewhere far away he heard a voice say, “That’s enough, Linc. You’ll kill him too soon.”

“Sonofabitch ain’t had half enough.”

“Cut him down! I got the goddamn gun ready to test.” Fain’s bellow penetrated into Simon’s consciousness.

Simon opened his eyes and saw the tree dancing, swaying, then whirling faster and faster. The serpent fire was surrounding his back and shoulders, his chest and stomach. The hot, leaded tongue was seeking the symbol of his manhood and he was helpless to protect it. He tried to spin away, to pivot, but couldn’t control his ponderous weight. I can’t bear much more of this, he thought dully.

“Put the whip down, ya fucker, or I’ll blow your goddamn head off!”

“Careful, Fain. I’ll handle this. Give me the whip, Linc.” He took the whip from the hand of the slobbering riverman. “Calm down. Mr. MacCartney is about to demonstrate his wonderful new invention. If it works, we’ll be leaving here tonight.” He looked steadily at Fain, who held the rifle centered on him. “I suggest you be very careful that Jackson doesn’t get the idea that you’ve got the upper hand.”

“I said cut him down. I got a feelin’ I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. There’s a bullet in the breech ’n’ another in my pocket.”

“Jackson or Emil could pick you off easily.”

“Maybe. But my finger on this here trigger won’t do you no good.” He threw a look of pure hatred at the riverman. “Shootin’ a man’s one thing, beatin’ him to death is another.”

“You say the gun is ready to test?”

“That’s what I said, but don’t get any idea ya don’t need me to show ya how it works. Cut Simon down. I’ll not have ’im hangin’ there like a side of meat for the crows to pick at.”

For the space of a dozen heartbeats the riverman hesitated. Then he pulled his knife from his belt and held the hilt in his hand. Fain watched his muscles bunch.

“Don’t even nick ’im,” Fain said softly. “I c’n kill ya ’n’ reload in five seconds.”

The knife sliced the leather between Simon’s palms. His wrists came free and he fell helplessly to the ground. Even from the darkness into which he sank, he felt the agony as the boot connected with his ribs, and a haunting cry tore from his throat.

“Get that fucker outta here. I can’t stand to look at ’im. Tell ’im to leave the knife. I ain’t a-wantin’ to worry ’bout it gettin’ in my back while we’re atestin’.”

“Give me the knife, Linc,” Fish said sternly. “Don’t worry. You’ll get all I promised, and more.”

The riverman handed over his knife like an obedient child. “Ya said I could—”

“I know what I said, and you shall,” Fish said patiently. “Go to Emil and tell him we’re going to test the gun.”

“I wantta see ’er. I ain’t seen her yet,” he said stubbornly.

“All right. Go to the cabin, but don’t cause a ruckus. Wait there for me.” He watched the man lumber away, then said to Fain, “Don’t forget that Jackson is with the women.” He pulled his musket, cocked it, and leveled it on him. “You can carry the rifle, but keep the barrel pointed to the ground.”

“I ain’t a fool, Fish, even if I did swallow your cock-’n’-bull story.” He walked ahead of him toward the target set up in the woods.

*    *    *

Rachel walked the floor with the baby in her arms. It was as if her mind had become unhinged. She stared at Berry with dull eyes and passed her as if she were a stranger. Berry sat tensely on the edge of the bunk, straining her ears. She heard Fish calling to Israel and listened for the black man to answer, but she heard nothing. The full terrible horror of what was happening swept in on her. She found herself as a small child again needing her only friend to give her comfort. But Rachel had retreated within herself, and Berry was alone with the awful truth—
they were all going to die.
She would never again know the joy of being held in Simon’s arms. She would never hear him say that he loved her.