Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) (21 page)

When Sebastian reached the river, he pulled Judah
from the horse. His cousin was a big man, and it took all
of Sebastian's strength to lift him so he could carry him to a flat-bottomed boat;

With sinister laughter, Sebastian pushed the boat away
from shore. He watched it become caught in the swift
current. "Sorry, cousin, but it has to look as though
someone helped you escape and you set fire to the house.
Your misfortune lay in the fact that your grandfather liked you too well. You will die without ever knowing
your mother's and grandfather's lives also ended tonight."

Turning back to the house, Sebastian saw to his aston
ishment that, with the help of the rain, the fire had
almost been extinguished. He rushed forward, pretending
he had just arrived on the scene. Taking charge, he stood
at the head of the bucket brigade, issuing orders and
making a great show of trying to enter the house to rescue
his uncle and Gabrielle.

At daybreak the exhausted firefighters stared at the half-burned manor house with disbelief. Neighbors had
begun to arrive. They offered their sympathy to Sebastian, who had lost his uncle and his cousin Gabrielle in the fire. Sebastian was, of course, inconsolable until Bandera arrived to comfort him.

The blackened windows, crumbling stairs, and the tell
tale odor left by the fire marred the magnificence of the
old dwelling. A crumpled ivory fan was a grim reminder
that just the night before, there had been gaiety and laughter in this house.

Sebastian had managed to convince his neighbors that
his cousin had escaped and had probably set the fire.
Tempers flared, and an angry mob gathered, demanding
revenge on the man who had done this awful deed.
Gustave Montesquieu had been an important man, and a
cry rose up to find his murderer, Judah Slaughter, and
punish him. The men were fast becoming uncontrollable,
a mob bent on a lynching. Hunting dogs were leashed to saddles, guns were loaded. All present swore to Sebastian
that they would bring Judah Slaughter back, dead or alive!

In truth, Sebastian did not have to pretend bereave
ment; his grief was genuine for he had loved his uncle
almost possessively. Yet he felt no guilt for Gustave
Montesquieu death. After all, he reasoned it had not been
his fault that his mother had lost control last night. He had no qualms about allowing his cousin to take the blame for his mother's crime —in fact nothing would
please him more than to have Judah discredited before the
whole world. He did feel a prickle of remorse because
Gabrielle had died. He had nothing against her. She had
just happened to be in the way and had had to be
eliminated. Cold and calculating was the gleam in Sebas
tian's eyes as he accepted his neighbors' sympathy.

Already his mind was racing ahead to the year of
mourning that would have to be observed before he could
marry Bandera. He would use that time to rebuild Bend of the River.

Sebastian heard the rain hiss on the smoldering embers;
he was glad the fire had been contained in the left side of
the house. The damage wasn't as bad as he had feared.

He glanced at the Mississippi, and he wondered where
his cousin's boat had drifted. It was possible that it had
drifted into one of the numerous bayous, or perhaps it had capsized on the river. He hoped the latter was the case. In any case, Judah would have died from his
wounds by now. Sebastian could not have him around proclaiming his innocence and seeking revenge. Not that
anyone would believe Judah anyway. Everyone's sympathy
was with Sebastian. If the mob found Judah, they were
likely to shoot first and ask questions later.

It was the early morning hour just before daylight.
Rain pelted Judah in the face, but still he did not regain
consciousness. He was not aware that the boat bumped
up against the riverbank, disturbing a huge green alligator
that reared its ugly head and then slithered into the water.

Zippora, on her early morning walk, was gathering
roots and berries, while her grandson chased a bright!}
colored butterfly. When she saw the boat, she cautiously
moved closer and saw the unconscious man whose head
and chest were covered with blood. Bending over him she
touched his forehead to see if he was alive, and he cried
out. "So much pain, so much pain."

She called to her grandson, Reuben, and bade him help
her remove the man from the boat. The rain continued to
fall as they made their way slowly toward a nearby shelter
Often the old woman and the young boy paused in their
task to rest, for the unconscious man was very heavy From the looks of him, Zippora thought he would b< dead before morning.

The room was small and had the musty smell of rotting
vegetation. When Judah opened his eyes and stared
through a rotted roof at a cloudy gray sky, he realized he
was lying on the dirt floor of a tumbledown house. There was an air of dilapidation about the place. The windows were shuttered, and it was difficult to see with the light of a candle casting grotesque shadows against the crumbling walls.

An old woman stepped out of the shadows. Around her
head she wore a white
tignon.
Her gray gown was spotl
essly clean, belying her filthy surroundings. Through
half-closed eyes, she regarded him narrowly, her masklike
face unreadable. When she spoke it was with a heavy French accent, but her voice had a strangely soothing effect on Judah's jumbled mind.

"You have been injured, but are in good hands. My
grandson and I will attempt to take you to my cabin so I
can tend your wounds. Can you assist us in getting you into the boat?"

Judah's mouth felt like he had swallowed cotton. "Where am I?"

"You are in an old abandoned farmhouse. We had to
bring you here until the rain stopped."

"Who are you?"

The old woman shook her head. "It is of no matter.
You are in friendly hands. Come," she said, assisting him
to his feet. "You have got to remain conscious long enough to help me get you away from here."

Zippora saw the pain in Judah's eyes as he took a
staggering step forward. He was in a bad way. Not only
was there danger from his wounds; he had caught a chill
from being so long in the rain. Each step Judah took
brought on a jarring pain. He was too ill to think past the
next step . . . and the next. Finally they reached a boat, and Judah fell forward, to be lost in a world of darkness.

It was much later when Judah awoke to find the same
woman at his side. His eyes vaguely followed her as she
bent over the fireplace and lit a fire. Shadows played
across her cinnamon-colored face, and there was dignity,
almost hauteur, in those strange yellow eyes that held his
glance.

"Am I dead and in hell?" he mumbled.

Her hand touched his fevered brow, and the last words
he heard were a strange prediction. "You may wish many
times that you were only in hell, Judah Slaughter."

Judah did not know that he now lay upon the snowy-
white bedcovers of Zippora's own bed. As the old woman
cleansed his arm and removed the bullet that was still embedded close to his heart, Judah did not even regain consciousness. Zippora's sagacious eyes saw beneath the
surface and into the cloudy future. She knew who this
man was, having seen him from a distance several times.
Judah Slaughter was important to Liberty, but he had
much trouble coming to him. Zippora applied salve to the
gash on his forehead, then bound it in a white cloth.

She felt his forehead and discovered that his fever was
now dangerously high. The next few hours would be
critical. They would determine if this man would live or
die. And something else would, too. She could feel this
young man's unrest. She was experiencing his outrage at
being betrayed. He was going to need more than she could give him if he was going to make it through the hours ahead. He needed someone to take his hand and pull him out of his torment.

Zippora stood up, took her scarf, and wrapped it about
her head. "Stay by his side, Reuben," she told her grand
son. "I am going to bring Liberty to sit with this man whom she loves."

The young boy nodded and plopped down on the floor
beside the bed so he could watch over the strange white
man.

When Zippora stepped outside the cabin, the wind was
so strong it almost whipped the door out of her hand. This is good, she thought. She could sneak onto Briar Oaks Plantation without being detected.

Liberty stood at the open window, allowing the wind to
cool her face. Having realized she was being drugged by
her sister, she had pretended to take the liquid that had
been spooned into her mouth earlier, but when her sister
had departed, she had slid out of bed and staggered to the window. There she had spit out the bitter-tasting potion, and had tried to clear her mind.

Her thoughts were in a turmoil; she kept trying to remember what was nagging at the back of her brain. Digging her fingers into the soft, gold velvet curtains at the window, she remembered that Judah was in trouble.
He had been accused of a crime he had not committed.
Dear, God, he had been hurt!

Liberty knew she had to do something to help him. Her
legs were shaky as she weaved her way across the room.
She found her old gray gown and slipped into it, then
pushed her feet into her boots. Grabbing her black cloak,
she pulled it over her shoulders. It would be impossible to
leave through her bedroom door, so she went to the window.

Many times in the past years Liberty had used the
magnolia tree as a means of escape from her room. She
stepped out on the ledge and eased herself onto a branch.
The ground looked a long way off as she climbed down to
a lower limb. She took a deep breath, wishing her head
would stop swimming.

Moments passed as Liberty clung to the tree for sup
port. Still shaken by the effects of the drug that had been
administered to her, she felt her grip slipping and knew
she was about to fall. She reached out her hand to grasp
another branch, then sighed in relief when she secured it.
A whimper escaped her lips as she fought down the churning nausea that assaulted her.

Cautiously, she glanced around, making sure no one
was about before she dropped to the ground. She leaned
against the trunk of the tree for support, wondering if her
trembling legs would hold her weight.

A hand fell on Liberty's shoulder, and she whirled
around, fearing she had been discovered. Relief washed
over her when she saw Zippora standing there. The black
woman raised a finger to her lips and motioned Liberty to
follow her. "Come, I will take you to Judah Slaughter."

Without question, Liberty followed Zippora. They
clung to the shadows as they made their way down to the
river. Once they were in Zippora's boat, and away from the house, the old woman spoke.

"The white man is very ill. I have come for you, knowing you can do more for him than the medicine I have given him."

Liberty grasped Zippora's hand. "Is he . . . going to die?"

"It is not well with him."

"How did you find him?"

"That is not important."

"He didn't do what Bandera accused him of, Zippora.
Judah Slaughter is innocent."

"I do not know about such things. But I will tell you
this, I saw that there had been a fire at Bend of the River.
I felt death in the air."

Liberty leaned back against the splintered boat while her eyes searched the eastern skies for some sign of the
fire. By the time they rounded the bend, she saw people
milling about the site of the fire and she shivered. It
seemed the second floor had received the heaviest dam
age. The first floor had somehow survived.

Liberty's eyes sought Zippora's. "Do you know if any
one was hurt?"