The Whiskey Tide (26 page)

     
She steered to port, her heart in her throat. A moment later a light raked the water, catching them, then went out. The speedboat changed direction, coming toward them again.

     
"Joe!" She tried to keep the panic from her voice.

     
His head appeared from the companionway as though he had slept very lightly. The stars shed just enough light for her to see Billy alert at the mainsail and Clovis a vague, thin shape at the bow.

     
"Billy, get in the stern boat and stay there. Kate, hold course and do as I tell you." His voice had lost its easiness.

     
No need to ask if he'd heard the engine. It was almost on top of them now. As Billy clambered uncertainly past her and toward the davit, the light raked again.

     
"Ahoy, the schooner. Heave to and prepare to be boarded," a voice shouted.

     
"Back off. We don't want trouble," Joe warned.

     
By starlight Kate caught the glint of what she knew must be a rifle in Joe's hands, and Clovis reaching toward a roll of canvas at the front of the boat. A glow like a candle flame flared in the night beyond and she heard a crack and the whistle of something over the
Folly
.

     
"Give us your booze and there won't be any trouble," the voice from the water called.

     
"Get down! Flat."

     
Kate dropped to the deck at Joe's command and pressed her palms to the wood, heart thundering with the realization a shot had been fired at them. Nearby she heard the sharp explosion of Joe's rifle. Overlapping it came a shot from the bow. Clovis must have a rifle. A volley of answering shots spit from their unseen assailants. Joe fired again and she heard a scream.

     
The
Folly
, unhelmed, was starting to yaw as a crosswind caught at its sails. She could feel the deck of the low-riding schooner heel to port. Too long at the mercy of the wind and it would begin to rock dangerously out of control.

     
Kate inched toward the wheel. She heard a shot strike wood and held her breath, but no one on the
Folly
cried out. If she raised just her arm she could catch a spoke of the wheel and right them somewhat without raising her head. Her fingertips brushed the smooth wood but lacked, by an inch or two, the purchase she needed. She raised on one elbow, felt the spoke against her fingers and shoved.

     
The schooner resisted and then acquiesced, its deck straightening. Kate was letting her breath out when a shock went through her body and she found herself on the deck, ears echoing with the shot.

     
She was more stunned than anything else. There was no pain. But when she tried to move, her body refused to obey.

Eighteen

     
The shots spilled out of her ears and then fell silent. Or maybe she lost track of the time. At some point she became aware of chilliness on her cheek and heard the sound of a motorboat retreating.

     
"Jesus God, Kate! You're hit!"

     
The shock which had immobilized her receded enough for her to sit as Joe dropped on one knee beside her.

     
"It — doesn't hurt much. I'm just shaken, I think."

     
She felt the wet, warm trickle of blood. Joe rolled back her sweater and stained blouse without ceremony.

     
"Press your elbow against it as firm as you can," he said grimly and repositioned the cloth below her ribs. "I'll wash my hands and get a bandage. Billy. Take the wheel. Don't fret about direction, just hold us steady. Clovis. Bring the lantern and stay with her until I get back."

     
They moved like apparitions around her, dark shapes with only the planes of their faces visible. Kate felt trembly — as if she'd suffered some childhood mishap with Aggie and Theo that knocked her breath out — a punch in the stomach. Except that her stomach hadn't been injured. Her fingers touched in confirmation. Her only wound was one just above her waist.

     
The worry of the three men on the boat with her was palpable. She fought to remain level-headed.

     
"There's the sword of Orion, Billy. Those three stars in a line. Steer toward them." She pointed. The effort made her face grow clammy. Even if Billy followed Orion's sword for half an hour they'd be close on course. Better than if he had no orientation at all. Was she going to die here?

     
Clovis returned with the clumsy battery lantern. At times she had seen him lean close to Joe and had wondered if he was capable of some sort of speech. She got her answer now.

     
"You're breathin' okay," encouraged a wheezing whisper. "Means you're not hurt bad."

     
Kate nodded, thinking she ought to thank him. Joe's footsteps sounded. He carried an oilskin pouch in one hand and an unopened quart of whiskey.

     
"Hope that coffee you made hadn't been standing too long. It was the closest there was to hot water for washing," he told Clovis. He knelt in the small spot of lantern light and opened the whiskey, speaking to Kate now. "This is going to sting, but it's good disinfectant."

     
Kate sucked in her breath as the whiskey poured over her wound. Joe's fingers gently probed her naked skin. "No bullet that I can feel," he said after a moment. "But that doesn't mean there isn't one. All I can do is bandage you up."

     
"Yes. Fine."

     
"Take a couple swallows of whiskey." He wiped at her wound with one of the bandages from the medical kit stored under the bunks, a kit whose contents Kate realized now were useful only for minor scrapes. "Hold up your shirt on the other side so I can tie this around you." He pressed a thick pad of cloth to her still oozing wound. It took her a moment to recognize the pad was a clean pillowcase. Reaching around her, Joe passed linen strips from the medical kit around her waist to secure the pad.

     
"I'm going to move you down to the bunk. It may hurt like sin."

     
"I'm all right. Really," Kate repeated. But the hole in her side had started to burn.

     
Joe lifted her and for the first time she felt frightened, by her injury and by the sensation of being picked up by someone who could hold her like a feather. She swallowed back panic.

     
"Kate? Are you faint?"

     
"No." She opened her eyes and saw worry in his. "I... thought if I could just get my hand on the wheel I could keep us from listing...."

     
"You might have been hit anyway. Those thugs were firing blind."

     
"So were you and Clovis. But you hit several of them. I heard the screams."

     
"They didn't know anything about fighting at night. Clovis and I know plenty."

     
He ducked his head to fit through the door to the cabin. A light glowed softly. He eased her onto the lower bunk and leaned against the one above it, looking down at her. "You're going to be all right, Kate. We're an hour and a half out of Salem. As soon as we land, we'll get you to the hospital."

     
Her thoughts were wobbling but she realized he intended to skip unloading their cargo. She grabbed at the hem of his sweater.

     
"Do you want to get me arrested on top of everything else? Land the booze first."

     
"Kate—"

     
"Do you think I want to get shot and not have a cent to show for it? Land the damned booze!"

     
She heard the indecision in his breathing.

     
"When we're close to the landing place I'll come check your bandage," he said at last. "If it hasn't bled through, then we'll land the booze." He drew a blanket over her. "Get some sleep. Your body needs it."

     
She closed her eyes. The world around her swayed as if they were on choppy water and the burning at her waist persisted. As soon as she slid into sleep, it seemed, a hand was touching her shoulder.

     
"Kate." Joe's voice spoke over her. "We're nearing the landing cove, and your bandage is holding. Do you still want us to put in and unload?"

     
She nodded, so thick in her head she could hardly think.

     
"You'll be better on deck then, than here with us hauling crates past."

     
His arms slipped under her and carried her up into the night air. Rope had been coiled into a sort of lounge with support for her head, then padded with canvas. He tucked a blanket around her. She wondered if there would be this same concern if she were a man, and wondering, fell asleep again almost immediately. From time to time consciousness pressed through enough that she was aware of the sounds of unloading. Almost familiar sounds. Almost reassuring.

     
Then she heard an engine start, realized it was their engine, opened her eyes. The boat lights were on. They were moving swiftly. A degree of clarity had returned to her brain, and she recalled that their rendezvous spot for tonight had been north of Beverly. They would get to Salem in no time.

     
"Joe?" Her voice sounded fainter than she'd intended. A piercing whistle issued from Clovis who was nearby, monitoring her. His whistle reached Joe at the wheel and he came immediately. She managed to sit.

     
"Joe — I don't want to go to a hospital. My parents are friends with half a dozen doctors. They're terrible gossips. At least the one who looks after my brother is. Rosalie can take care of me."

     
"Don't be a fool, Kate. Clovis here will tell you I know what I'm talking about. If that bullet is in you somewhere, or if I didn't get the wound completely clean, you'll die of infection."

     
"Rosalie — is very good. If I'm running a fever in a day or two, I'll see someone then."

     
"No."

     
"Please!"

     
His thumb and forefinger slid down his cheeks. Tension had sharpened the strong lines of his face.

     
"I have a great-aunt who's a trained nurse," he said with reluctance. "Retired just before the war and then volunteered. She might be able to do what's needed. But if not, you'll go to a doctor. No arguing."

     
A great-aunt. Kate wondered whether this was one of the three generations constituting Joe's household; whether she'd be subjecting herself to thirteen pairs of eyes in a house that was jammed to the rafters but prided itself in taking care of its own.

     
"Okay."

***

     
Ansel Viemeister owed Joe a favor or two. Joe knew where he parked his car, and sent Billy running to tell Ansel he was borrowing it for the evening. The car was decrepit looking, its body dented in half a dozen places and its upholstery splitting. Its engine, however, worked like a dream. Joe eased Kate into the passenger's seat and set off for the street where his aunties lived.

     
Having him turn up on their doorstep at almost midnight was going to alarm them. There was no helping that. Kate insisted on walking the few yards from the spot where he parked the car, but she held his arm and he could tell her legs were weak. The bandage he'd put on her had begun to soak through.