Catey's Capture Page 6

  Sally frowned. “Big John’s with him?”

  Catey nodded.

  “He’ll know some things. He a smart one. But I needs to see Mr. Emery.”

  “But how? How can we help him?”

  Sally reached up a hand, seeing Catey’s distress and patted her gently on the shoulder. “Don’ you worry, Miss Catherine. I’ll find a way. You jes leave it t’ me.”

  She stood up, pulling Catey up beside her and cupping her bruised cheek in her palm. “You’s been good t’ me, miss. I won’t forget it. But we’s gots t’ go now. That man sent me up here t’ get you and bring you downstairs.” At Catey’s sudden wide-eyed fright she added, “Don’ worry. Your man’s there. He be watchin’ out fer you. Come on, now. Tonight we’ll tend to Master Emery. You jes keep yer eyes open. I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

  Catey nodded mutely, swallowing, her throat dry. Sally once more donned her cloak of calm, unaffected distance. Catey envied her. Would she ever have such unshakeable courage?

  Chapter Six

  Clemens sat at the large dining table, his boots scuffing the glossy surface as he rocked back on one of the hand-turned and delicately carved chairs. Jess sat across from him, his hands folded on the table, his face unreadable.

  Catey entered the room behind Sally, exhibiting as much poise and dignity as she could muster considering her insides were in a state of utter turmoil. She looked automatically toward Jess but he kept his eyes down, seemingly concentrating on his folded hands.

  Clemens, however, looked up and leered, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “Well, here she is—the piece of tail that brought Jess Granger to heel.” He laughed and Catey saw a muscle tighten in Jess’ jaw. “Turn around, girl—lemme see what ya look like.”

  Catey looked to Jess for direction but he still kept his eyes downcast. Not wanting to antagonize Clemens, she did as she was told, turning her back, her lips tightly pressed together.

  She heard the scrape of his boots and jingle of spurs. She could feel Clemens close behind her and tensed, nearly jumping out of her skin when she felt his hand touch her buttocks through the thin material of her gown.

  “Nice!” he said. His hand cupped and rubbed, then moved slowly up and around her waist. “What else you got that feels so nice?” Before she could speak, both his hands had covered her breasts, grasping them firmly, then squeezing and pulling her back against him so his breath was hot on her neck and the hardness of his belt buckle cut into her spine.

  Catey gasped and began to shiver uncontrollably. It was everything she could do to keep from lashing out wildly but she knew it would only give him reason to hurt her. She could see Sally out of the corner of her eye—ashen, eyes wide—but knew the black girl could do nothing. There was the scrape of a chair and suddenly Clemens was gone—so abruptly that Catey nearly fell. She turned in time to see Jess and Clemens toe to toe, Jess gripping the collar of Clemens’ coat, their noses nearly touching.

  “I told you she’s mine,” Jess said low and evenly but Catey could detect the undertone of tightly reined fury.

  Clemens’ eyes blazed as he stared at Jess. An eternity seemed to pass before either man moved. Then, as though aware of the intensity of Jess’ feelings, Clemens smiled and took hold of Jess’ wrist.

  “Now, son, you don’t want to go gettin’ yourself in trouble, now do you? What would your daddy say?”

  Jess, whose own eyes had partially glazed with emotion, blinked twice, then dropped his hands, balling them into fists at his side, his lips tight with restraint.

  “That’s better,” Clemens said, adjusting his collar. “There’s no need t’ get yerself so worked up over a piece of Confederate ass.” He reached out a hand and slapped Catey hard on the rump, making her jump. He laughed and nudged Jess with an elbow. “There ain’t nothin’ there that I find all that remarkable anyway. So let’s just forget this little misunderstandin’ and you keep your little souvenir until you get tired of her. After a bit, you might consider sharin’ with the rest of us. Deal?”

  Jess glanced at Catey, then back at Clemens, slowly relaxing his fists. “As long as you keep your hands off her.”

  “Good, good.” Clemens clapped Jess on the shoulder. “Let’s not make this thing personal, eh?” He picked his hat up from the table. “I’m gonna check the horses. You’d best write up a report. We’ll have to be movin’ on soon.”

  Jess spoke just as Clemens reached the dining room entrance. “Oh, Captain, just to make things clear…” his voice was low and controlled, “what my father thinks about me won’t change. But if he learns certain…unsavory things… about an officer under his command, I happen to know he wouldn’t take kindly to it…if you get my drift?”

  Clemens turned back, his face red, anger glinting in his eyes. “Are you threatening me, son?”

  Jess stared back at him, unflinching. “No, Sir. Just stating the facts.”

  The tension in the room was palpable. Finally Clemens clapped his hat on his mangy hair and stormed off, slamming the heavy front door behind him.

  Sally and Catey exhaled simultaneously. Catey’d begun to shiver uncontrollably and hugged her arms around herself to try to stop trembling.

  Suddenly Jess was there, his strong arms holding her tightly, her head pressed gently to his chest. He rested his mouth on the top of her head, his breath warm and moist on her scalp. The rhythmic thud of his heart soothed her slightly. Gradually her shivers subsided but she still felt dizzy and somewhat off balance. He turned his head to address Sally.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yessir.”

  Sally’s voice was strong and composed. Jess relaxed slightly. Finally he held Catey away at arm’s length and looked into her face.

  “And you?”

  Her eyes met his and she marveled at the way their color changed, depending on his mood. At the moment they were a very dark river green. “I’m…” She was going to tell him she was fine but suddenly the room began to spin and her eyes glazed. Then darkness dropped like a cloak.

  Catey felt the gentle breath of a summer breeze. It carried the scent of jasmine, tinged with the ever-present musk of the distant bayous. She heard voices but wasn’t ready to open her eyes. She felt light-bodied—as though she could will herself to float up from the bed on which she lay.

  “Will she be all right?” It was Jess’ voice. Was it tinged with concern?

  “Yessir. She be fine. She be one strong woman.” That was Sally. She heard the slosh of water and a cool, moist cloth was laid on her forehead. “She needs t’ eat,” Sally said. “Ain’t no wonder she done swooned.”

  “I’ll find something.” Catey heard the sound of movement—footsteps—then the door opened and shut. Then there was silence except for Sally’s breathing and the sound of a wren twittering outside.

  The cool cloth was removed and wiped gently over her face.

  “Y’all can open your eyes now,” Sally said. “He’s gone.”

  Catey lifted her lids. Sally was smiling knowingly.

  “I wasn’t… That is, I just wanted to…”

  Sally nodded. “I knows, miss,” she said, taking the cloth away to wet it again. “He may be a gen’leman and all but he still be a Yankee.”

  Catey sat up and stared at Sally. “He saved my life,” she said vehemently.

  Sally dropped the cloth and looked at Catey, her brows drawn together quizzically. “Yas’m. He surely did, I ‘spect.” She hesitated, then pressed her lips tightly together.

  “What?” Catey demanded. “Tell me what you’re thinking!”

  Sally shrugged, reaching again for the cloth and wringing the water carefully from it. “It ain’t my place to say, Miss Catey but…it seems t’ me he care a lot more for you than you knows.”

  Catey eyed her dubiously then waved a hand. “Like you said, he’s a Yankee. What would he care about me?”

  Sally smiled slyly. “And truth t’ tell, missy, it’s right clear you done care a great deal ‘bout him too.”r />
  Catey frowned. “What do you mean?”

  But Sally didn’t reply, instead handing the cloth to Catey and standing to look out the window.

  Catey pressed the cloth to her temple, letting the coolness ease her confused thoughts. Did she care for Jess so much? What exactly were her feelings? Up until now, she’d neatly avoided analyzing her emotions. And Jess? Did he really feel something for her, or was he just using her? Would he hand her over to Clemens and the other men when he tired of her? But no. She remembered his look when he’d rescued her. He said he wanted to protect her. She had no choice but to believe it. But why? Why would he want to protect her? Was she like any other trapped animal that he’d rescue, or did he feel something more…something deeper? It hurt Catey’s head to think about it.

  Sally turned from the window, frowning. “I be thinkin’ of a way to see Master Emery.”

  Catey perked up, instantly alert.

  “I needs to find med’cine plants—to help that Yankee pig’s pox. I thinks I can get them to let you come with me. I’ll say y’all know best where t’ find ‘em here. Once we’s out, you kin have one o’ yer spells…”

  “Spells?”

  “Yas’m…” Sally waved a hand over the bed, “One of these kinda spells.”

  Catey bristled. “Well, I didn’t actually plan to…”

  Sally continued, “I’ll tell that man, Phillips, that I’ll go for help. He ain’t too bright. I kin get to the stables from there and you can keep Phillips busy ‘til I comes back.”

  Catey considered this. “But surely it’ll take you a while to help Em?”

  Sally made a wry moue. “I’ll do what’s I can and tell Big John how to look after him. I kin get the bullet out, I think but I needs a sharp knife, some whiskey or moonshine, a needle and strong fishin’ line.”

  Catey’s mind went instantly to the hunting knife Jess kept strapped to his belt “I can get you a knife,” she said. “And whiskey.” Her mind was working furiously. “Take this sheet for bandages,” she said, whipping off her mother’s fine linen without a thought. “And my mother’s sewing basket is just next to that chair. There’s fishing line in the tack room of the stables.”

  Sally found the basket and removed a few needles, placing them with the sheet in a ratty old bag she carried tied around her waste.

  “What about the fever?” Catey asked.

  Sally frowned. “I have some things t’ help with fever but Big John’ll have t’ boil water and make tea of it on his own.”

  Catey nodded grimly. “I guess it’s all we can do for now.”

  Just then Jess burst through the door carrying a tray laden with an odd assortment of edibles.

  Sally’s face went automatically blank but Catey, already jumpy with nerves, felt her stomach lurch.

  “So you’re awake,” Jess said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing the tray across Catey’s lap. “It isn’t much but it’s something. Now eat.”

  Catey looked at the withered figs and what looked like some sort of broth with bits of fat floating on top. She felt suddenly nauseous.

  “You’se gots to eat to be strong,” Sally said quietly.

  Catey looked up at the black girl and saw the message in her eyes. She was right. It wouldn’t do for her to be fainting for real at the wrong time.

  “I have to go, Massa Clemens be comin’ back. You kin help me find med’cine plants later, Miss Catey?” It was a question—meant for Jess to hear.

  “Why…I…” she looked askance at Jess. “Is it all right? I know where to find what she needs.”

  Jess eyed her momentarily, then nodded. “As long as you don’t do anything foolish again. Do I have your word?”

  Catey smiled coyly and raised her right hand. “I do so swear, Sir, that I won’t do anything foolish like before.”

  Jess seemed placated by this neatly worded promise. He turned to Sally. “Will she be okay?”

  Sally nodded. “I thinks once she eats she’ll be fine. I’ll come for you later, Miss Catey.”

  Catey nodded, watching Sally go as she lifted the cup of broth to her lips, grimacing slightly. Surprisingly, it tasted good and she suddenly realized she was ravenous.

  Jess sat on the edge of the bed watching her—urging her when she seemed to balk. She finished the broth and ate the figs without hesitation, feeling her strength returning. Occasionally her eyes strayed to Jess’ face, feeling a familiar clenching in her groin when his one endearing dimple showed momentarily or his lips curved in that slow, easy smile.

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Catey thought, trying unsuccessfully to stop yearning for the feel of those warm lips on hers. What if Sally was right?

  Chapter Seven

  Big John could hear the sound of movement in the stables below. The paced thunk of boots on wood and the small grunts and snorts that didn’t come from the horses. The room he and Emery occupied was no bigger than a closet, set just under the roof slope off the loft. It was empty except for a pile of dusty hessian bags, some lengths of rope and discarded tack. The only light was what managed to find its way in through the chinks in the walls and floor. John had found a dish and taper in the main tack room below but hadn’t yet dared to light it for fear the glow or smell might give their hiding place away.

  From the outside, the room was almost undetectable. The door blended with the rough-hewn walls, so unless someone was looking for it, they’d be safe. Safe, that is, as long as Master Emery remained deeply unconscious. It was all John could do to keep the young man from moaning.

  Now, as he crouched beside the recumbent form, he held his breath, listening, praying whoever was below would go before Emery struggled back up into his world of pain. He waited—hand poised to clamp over Emery’s mouth should he make a sound. Eventually the boots moved to the front of the stables and the sound of the door opening and shutting allowed John to let his breath out with relief. Whoever it was, they were gone.

  He looked down at Emery. He’d covered him as best he could, using the bags as a makeshift mattress and a horse blanket from one of the stables. But even in the dim light, he could see a yellow sheen of sweat on the boy’s pale face, the hair plastered with cold damp to his forehead.

  They had some water…and food of sorts. There was still a small portion of dried jerky in his duffel and he’d found a handful of oats in one of the feed bins below. Mixed with water, it was edible. The problem was Emery was too weak to chew. John needed hot water to make a broth. As it was, he could only dribble the oat-milk into Emery’s mouth from time to time and hope Miss Catherine would come soon.

  * * * * *

  “There’s a foxberry bush near the old jetty.” Catey followed a narrow trail leading into the denser forest around the bayou. The air was heavy with damp and tree branches clung close, festooned with Spanish moss.

  Sally followed, with Lester Phillips bringing up the rear. He was a dour, scrawny man whose age wasn’t readily apparent because his mouth was almost empty of teeth. His face was covered in patches of dark whiskers and his cheeks were carved by deep, weathered creases. Catey guessed the man was averse to bathing. The sickly sweet, moldy smell of him reached her even from this distance. She also supposed he had lice or crabs, considering he was constantly scratching his crotch.

  She turned to glance at Sally and raised a questioning eyebrow. Was this far enough? Sally nodded imperceptibly.

  Well, here goes nothing! Catey thought. She stopped abruptly and put a hand out as if to steady herself on a nearby tree trunk.

  “Is you okay, Miss Catherine?” Sally said it loudly, blatant concern tingeing her words, so Phillips wouldn’t misunderstand.

  “I-I don’t know…” Catey put her other hand to her brow. “I feel suddenly very…dizzy.”

  “Lordy! I knowed you shouldn’t have come out today. Not after swoonin’ yesterday.”

  Catey reeled dramatically so as to get a better look at Phillips, before collapsing onto the ground in a heap. He was staring at her w
ith an expression of vacant puzzlement.

  “Oh…oh…Miss Catherine!” Sally was playing her part well. She’d fallen to her knees beside Catey and had hold of her hand, patting it lightly.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Phillips voice was gruff and tinged with annoyance.

  “Oh, I done knowed this’d happen!” Catey could all but see Sally shaking her head with worry. The woman was a born actress.

  “I said, what’s wrong with her?”

  “She done swooned. I’se gots t’ get help!”

  “Help? I’ll carry her back.”

  Catey’s heart skipped a beat. They hadn’t planned on that!

  “No…no!” Sally was on her feet. “You cain’t touch her. She’s… She’s too fragile.”

  “Fragile?”

  “Yes. If you tries to move her befo’ I get med’cine, she could die.”

  “Die?”

  Phillips was repeating the words as though in a trance.

  “Yes. Her…her head could jes burst. Right here. What would Massa Jess say?”

  It was all Catey could do to keep from snorting. She heard Phillips’ sharp intake of breath, though and knew he was imagining the gory phenomenon. She was also certain he was considering what might befall him if he was party to allowing Jess’ woman’s head to explode.

  Without giving him pause to respond, Sally continued, “I’ll run back as fast as I can and get my med’cine and Massa Jess. You needs t’ stay here and watch her. If she starts t’ move, you have to make her be still. Try t’ keep her cool. If the inside of her head gets any hotter…”

  Phillips grunted with distaste. “Get goin’, then. And don’t be long.”

  “It’s Miss Catherine,” Sally said with dignity, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

  And with that, there was the sound of running feet and the whoosh and snap of undergrowth as Sally ran off.

  Catey resigned herself to lying prone for some time, uncertain what Phillips would do knowing she was unconscious. She could only hope Sally’s threat of an exploding head would force him keep his distance.