Married At Midnight (32 page)

reaper wreaked the same degree of havoc upon the one she now loved as he had those she had cherished in the past,

then surely calamity would have its day. She'd be powerless to stop it!

Kingston's outraged protests rang out above the din as he confronted the miscreants. "What y'all mean marchin' in here

without so much as a purty please or a how yo' do? Y'all acts like yo' done bought this place, lock, stock, an' barrel! But ah knows dat ain't true 'cause Mistah Jeffrey'd die befo' sellin' Oakley ta no-account white trash! Y'all better hightail it on outa here befo' he hears this racket an' comes down ta have a look-see at what's afoot. Or purty soon y'all gonna wish yo'd never laid eyes on this place."

Gustav leaned back his bald head and guffawed loudly toward the ceiling, setting the crystal chandelier a-tinkling with his

mirth. "Ja! And you maybe get your throat cut too, black man."

Jeff moved with silent, barefoot tread to the landing above the stairs and stealthily descended until he could see all that transpired in the entrance hall below. He half-perched, half-leaned against the balustrade as he counted better than a score

of scruffy, pistol-toting brigands milling about. But instead of watching the doors or stairs for occupants of the house who

might come to see what was amiss, they seemed far more intrigued with the bric-a-brac that was temptingly near at hand.

Casually directing the bore of the flintlock toward the huge, bald-headed German, Jeff calmly inquired,

"You are looking

for me, Herr Fridrich?"

The shiny pate snapped up with a surprised start, and for a moment Gustav stared in wide-eyed alarm at the threat directed toward him. Then he seemed to rein in his fear. His pale, ice-blue eyes narrowed above a sneer as he threw up a hand in a gesture of defiance. "Are you brave enough to kill Gustav when zhere are at least a score of my men in zhis hall who vill

avenge me?"

Jeff lifted his bronze shoulders in an indolent shrug. "I'm sure your men will lose much of their incentive when they realize there's no one left to pay them. In any case you'll be dead, Gustav, and I'm willing to take my chances with your men. As I see it, they'll be like a body without a head, mindless, so to speak."

"You stole my vomanl"
Gustav shouted, shaking a meaty, hammerlike fist at Jeff.
"I pay two hundred
fifty Yankee dollars for Cooper Frye to bring zhe vench to me, and you stole her!"

Jeff thoughtfully contemplated his own forearm as he rubbed the barrel or the flintlock across it. "

'Twould seem ol' Cooper Frye has been paid twice for his niece," he pondered aloud, then his eyes rose, and the cold steel of his stare was as threatening as the pistol. "But you'll have to retrieve your money from him or consider it a loss. You see, I gave him more than enough to pay you, seven hundred fifty Yankee dollars to be exact, and since I've already claimed Raelynn Barrett in marriage, I strongly suggest that you and your men leave my house before someone is killed, because I'm not sharing my wife with you or any other man." As if to make his point, Jeff pulled the hammer back on the flintlock. "And I promise you, Herr Fridrich, if you persist in this foolishness, you'll be the first to die."

"You wouldn't..
."

The ear-splitting roar of a pistol being discharged startled the German and made him leap for cover. His bulk slowed his movements, and when a second pistol barked on the heels of the first, he was catapulted backwards by the force of a lead

ball plowing into his shoulder. A roaring scream was torn from his throat as he clutched a hand over his wound and writhed

in agony on the floor, but his movements cost him dearly as his arm swung limply from a shattered socket. Grinding his teeth against the anguishing pain, he struggled to his knees and lifted a raging snarl toward the man who had challenged him a brief moment ago. His wrath ebbed to an expression of stunned disbelief, for the master of the house had toppled forward from his perch and now was sprawled face-down upon the stairs. A thin wisp of smoke drifted from the bore of his pistol, which was still loosely clutched in his hand, and from the tousled head that dangled over the edge of a step, blood streamed onto the polished surface of the next level, forming a rapidly growing pool of glistening red.

A harsh scream of rage shredded the sudden silence, bringing Gustav around with a start.

"Yo' shot the mastahl"
Kingston wailed and vented a tormented sob as he ran toward the stairs.

Gustav snatched his own pistol from his holster and swung it around, leveling it at the servant. He vividly recalled seeing

another flintlock in the top of his host's breeches and could only imagine what might befall them if the butler got his hands

on it. Snarling a warning through gnashing teeth, he brought the black man to a sudden halt. "Stay where you are or I vill

kill you myself!"

"But the mastah!" Kingston sobbed. "He's wounded! Maybe dead!"

"It's too late for him now!" Gustav roared. "If he is still alive, he vill not be for long, not vith zhat head wound! Now stay

vhere you are!"

Kingston moved his eyes carefully askance as he detected the rasping sound of pistols being cocked close behind him.

Several ruffians had stepped forward with drawn weapons and were now intimidating him at very close range. Standing very still, he raised his hands in helpless submission.

Gustav turned from the servant and swept a dark scowl over the faces of his men. "Vhich one of you shot Herr Birmingham?"

A curly-haired young scamp named Olney Hyde swaggered forward with a cocky grin and boldly perused the fallen master of the house as he tucked a smoking pistol into his holster. "We couldn't rightly let this here gent kill ye, Gustav, not after ye promised each of us a purse for helping ye, so I aimed for his head and shot him dead." Unaware of Gustav's rapidly approaching advance, he snapped his fingers as he boasted, "The gent fell like a brick! Never knew what hit him."

"Dummkopf.
You nearly got me killed!" Gustav bellowed, drawing back his good arm and flinging it across the ruffian's face.

Olney was sent flying from the force of the blow, and after sliding across the polished planks of the flooring, he came to rest near the bottom of the stairs where he lay for a moment in a dazed stupor.

Shaking his head to clear his befuddled senses, he pushed himself up and stared bleary-eyed at the German.

"Vhen you shot Herr Birmingham," Gustav explained at the top of his lungs, "his pistol vent off and hit me!

Now see vhat

you've done!" His lips curled with derision as he gestured to the arm that hung slack, then he shook a fist threateningly at

the younger man and laid upon him every foul curse that came to mind. His tirade dwindled at last, but not before he vented

a final warning. "If I lose zhis arm, Olney Hyde, I swear I vill chop off
yours."

His shout reached to the four corners of the house, but Raelynn was already on the run, having heard the shots. Shortly after Jeff had left her, she had rolled her long hair into an untidy knot at her nape and dragged on the drab gown and worn shoes

that she had been wearing when she met him. Even shabbily garbed, she was truly a fetching sight. She drew every eye in the hall, and the hired henchmen who stared suddenly understood why Gustav had refused to yield possession of this young

woman to another and why he'd been willing to pay a fortune to get her back.

A sudden chill swept Raelynn, turning her blood cold as she approached the landing. For a moment she glared back at the rapscallions, then her gaze descended to the long manly form sprawled motionless on the stairs. A rending cry of despair escaped her as she half-slid, half-stumbled in a hasty descent. A rivulet of blood flowed over the steps from the ever-widening puddle beneath Jeff's head, but she was heedless of the gore soaking into her homespun dress as she gathered her husband's head onto her lap.

"What have I done? What have I done?" She rocked in misery, bewailing her widowhood which had come much too swiftly upon her. Then her gaze fell upon Gustav, and an overwhelming fury was unleashed within her. Shaking uncontrollably, she glared at him through brimming tears.
"Murderer!"

Gustav pointed to her with a bloody hand as he ordered his men, "Get her!" Pain permeated his voice

despite his tone of command. "Ve must go before others come!"

Raelynn pushed Jeff's head from her lap and scrambled up the steps in a desperate attempt to escape, but Olney Hyde was eager to regain his good standing and clambered up the stairs behind her.

"Run, Miz Raelynn!" Kingston shouted and started to follow, but a pistol was quickly directed toward his head.

"If you value your life, black man, you vill think twice before you interfere," Gustav warned gravely.

Olney sprinted quickly

up the stairs behind Raelynn, but as she reached the landing, she whirled with an unladylike snarl and kicked at him, nearly catching him in the face. He easily ducked and. brought an arm around, sweeping her other leg out from under her. She

tumbled forward on top of him, and together they made a rather rapid and bruising descent of the wide stairs, with Olney bearing the brunt of their combined weight. At the bottom of the stairs, Raelynn found her arms seized by two men who

hauled her struggling before their leader.

Clasping his shoulder, Gustav stepped forward and jeered in pain-twisted mockery as his pale eyes swept her faded, blood-smeared garb. "For a rich man, your late husband vas not overly generous with you,
mein Liebchen.
Perhaps

you'll admire Gustav vhen he buys you pretty clothes, eh?"

"The world will cease to exist ere that day comes, Gustav." Her voice transmitted the sneer visible on her lips. Then her tone grew hushed, and the softness of her velvet-edged threat set the German's heavy nape crawling. "For what you've done, I swear I will take vengeance or die trying."

Gustav forced a grin. "I like a
frau
with spirit. Zhere is more pleasure in conquering her."

Raelynn blanched at his taunt and did not bother to quell a shudder of revulsion as she gazed into his grimacing face. He seemed to revel in the fact that only a weak female opposed him. She saw a cruel savagery in the harsh lines of his

countenance that clearly bespoke the true nature of the man. If she had hoped to find some hidden niche of warmth or compassion in this rogue, she realized that here was one who appeased his self-serving interests without regard for those he hurt or maligned along the way. He had no conscience where others were concerned. They were merely beasts to be made

to serve his burgeoning will or else be destroyed.

Like shards of blue ice, his eyes pierced to the depths of her searching gaze, bringing a chill to her heart as he lifted a brow in amusement at her stunned incredulity. Others had found cause to fear him, and at that very moment Raelynn knew only too

well that she was no exception. Earlier in the evening she had dared to believe that her future would be filled with blissful contentment. Now she foresaw only a living hell.

Gustav clutched his arm tightly against his side, sparing himself the excruciating agony of splintered bones piercing torn flesh.

He tore a velvet cord free from a nearby drape and, beckoning one of his cohorts near, bade him to bind the arm close against his side. Though the pain he suffered almost caused his knees to buckle, he stood still while the man complied. White-lipped and stiff-faced, he finally turned to his men. "Two of you ride on ahead to Charleston and fetch
Doktor
Clarence to zhe vare-house. Drag him zhere if you must, but have him vaiting vhen I arrive!"

A pair of men rushed from the hall, and the thundering hoofbeats of their racing steeds gave evidence of

their haste. Gustav followed with the rest of the men at a slower pace and was carefully hoisted by four stout-armed cohorts into the back of a buck-board that had been confiscated, along with a harness and team, from the Birmingham stables. Raelynn was lifted to the back of a horse, but any attempt to make good her escape was useless, for the reins were firmly clasped by the man who led her steed behind his own.

The sound of their departure dwindled beneath the loud, wailing moan of the butler as he rushed to the stairs. Kneeling beside his fallen master, Kingston carefully searched the thick crop of short hair and found a long bloody crease in the scalp. As he pulled the gooey strands away from a deep gash of oozing red, he thought he felt a faint stirring of breath on his arm. When he reached down and clasped the lean wrist anxiously between his fingers, he could detect no pulse. But then, his own hands were shaking so hard he could not have discerned the thudding of a steel hammer.

* * *

Gathering Jeff's long body in his arms, Kingston staggered unsteadily beneath the burden as he struggled to get to his feet. As he climbed the stairs, tears made wet paths down his dark face as he muttered to himself, "Ah'm gonna kill that bald-headed man, jes' as soon as ah'm able." As if in answer to his threat, a sudden moan from the man in his arms sent a jolt of prickling surprise through Kingston, threatening to send him sprawling backward down the stairs. He gaped down in wonder as a wincing grimace flickered

across the face of his master, and with a sudden thud, Kingston dropped to his knees.

His eyes flicked upward as if he fully expected to see some heavenly being looming above him, but he saw nothing more astonishing than the gleaming crystal chandelier with its brightly glowing tapers, which he had been in the process of snuffing when Gustav and his bullies had bolted through the door. Suddenly he grinned and blinked back new tears, this time of joy.

"The mastah's
alivel
He's alive!"

Drifting upward from a hazy darkness, Jeff clasped a hand to his throbbing head and groaned a question.

"What happened?"

"Ah doan know!" Kingston shrugged. "Maybe it was an angel whad touched ya' or some'in."

"An angel?" Jeff's confusion deepened as he squinted up at the servant, but his head hurt too much for him to make any sense

of the butler's statement. He struggled to sit up and managed to brace himself on the next higher step.

Moving his eyes slowly and carefully about in spite of the anguish it caused him, he peered around the hall. He was almost sure that a second ago it

had been filled with a bunch of wild and unruly ruffians. Or had he dreamed it all? "Where are Gustav and his men?"

"They left, Mistah Jeffrey, an' they took Miz Raelynn wid 'em."

With a curse Jeff came to his feet, then promptly regretted his rash movement as a harrowing pain filled his head. The world dipped precariously around him. He swayed dizzily on his feet and clasped both hands over his face as he waited for the torment to ease and his equilibrium to return.

Seeing his master's unstable balance, Kingston quickly braced a shoulder beneath the younger man's and carefully turned

him toward the upper landing. "Ah'd best get yo' in bed, Mistah Jeffrey, where yo' can rest whilst yo'

recollect 'bout whad happened. Ah 'spect yo'll be wantin' ta gather up a body o' men an' ride out aftah Miz Raelynn an' that ol' devil Mistah

Fridrich. Ah'll send a rider over ta fetch Mistah Brandon. Won't do for yo' ta go ridin' off widout him, not the way yo' is

feelin'."

"I don't even know where they've taken her," Jeff lamented as the servant lent him support down the hall.

"Don't go worryin' 'bout that none, Mistah Jeffrey. Mistah Fridrich told his men ta fetch Doc Clarence so's that ol' man could mend his wounds. Wid Doc Clarence a-thinkin' the Birminham family is mighty special, he'll be tellin' yo' what yo' needs ta know or my name ain't Kingston Tucker."

Jeff's brows creased together, conveying his confusion. "How did Fridrich get hurt?"

Kingston grinned as he pushed open the door to the master bedroom. "Yo' did it, Mistah Jeffrey. When that other young

scamp shot yo', your pistol went off, an' the ball went straight inta Mistah Fridrich's shoulder an' made his arm hang like it

was broke. Yo' maybe didn' know it at the time, but your aim was nigh as true as ever."

Kingston carefully lowered his wounded master to the edge of the bed, and for a long moment Jeff sat rubbing his temples, trying to massage away the piercing discomfort. When he drew his hands away, he stared at his fingers that were now liberally covered with blood. " 'Twould seem I've got a new part in my hair, Kingston."

The butler chuckled at his master's undaunted humor. "They left here a-thinkin' yo' was dead, Mistah Jeffrey, or at least near 'bouts. Miz Raelynn was a-thinkin' so, too. She swore she'd make Mistah Fridrich pay or die try in'."

"They'll be a bit more careless if they think I'm dead," Jeff remarked as Kingston spread several linen towels across the pillow to protect it from the bloodstains. "But I must find them before Gustav turns his attention upon Raelynn."

"Ah s'pect that man'U be hurtin' too much ta be thinkin' o' doin' anythin' like that, Mistah Jeffrey, so's yo'

can just rest yo'self

a spell whilst yo' wait for Mistah Brandon ta get here." Kingston eased Jeff back upon the bed and swung his legs onto the mattress. "Ah ain't no doctor, but the way it looked tame, that ol' pirate might never use that arm again." Kingston poured

water from a pitcher into a wash basin and, dampening a cloth, began to gently dab at the wound.

"Don't bother about me now, Kingston," Jeff urged, taking the rag from him. "I need you to go now and send a rider over to fetch my brother. Send another to Charleston to tell Sheriff Rhys Townsend what has happened. Make sure he understands how many of Gustav's toughs we'll be facing. We'll have need of every man who's willing to help us."

"Yassuh, Mistah Jeffrey!" With that, Kingston hurried from the room, leaving Jeff to close his eyes against the throbbing

torment in his head.