Catey's Capture Page 7

  Chapter Eight

  Sally slipped into the barn through the rear entrance. She listened carefully for sounds but aside from the comfortable stamps and snorts of horses, there was nothing. Warily she made her way to the tack room, finding the fishing line she needed quickly. Then she hurried to the ladder leading to the loft and scaled it. Catey’d described where the hidden door was, so she found it relatively easily. So far, so good. She rapped gently.

  “Open up, John, it’s me…Sally.”

  She heard the sound of a gun being uncocked, then the door opened slightly.

  “Jesus be praised!” he whispered, just before sweeping Sally up into an embrace that took the breath out of her. “I can’t believe it’s you! I thought you was gone…taken.”

  Sally managed to pull herself back from his embrace far enough to smile at him and place her palms on his bearded cheeks. “When Miss Catherine told me you was here, I couldn’t hardly believe it myself, John. I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” John’s eyes traveled over her, looking for signs of abuse.

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’m okay. They need me for doctorin’.”

  John breathed easier. “Thank the Lord.” His big hand caressed her cheek, his eyes warm and tender—momentarily lost in hers.

  But Sally knew she had little time. She reluctantly pulled away from him and knelt next to Emery.

  “How is he?”

  John frowned. “He be in and out with fever.”

  Sally was already pulling the cloth away from the wound to have a better look. “You’se gots t’ light that candle—I needs to see what I’m doin’.”

  They both knew it was a risk but unavoidable. John did as he was told.

  “Is there water?” she asked.

  John indicated a bucket in one corner, half full.

  Sally frowned. “We don’t have time for boilin’ it. But it’ll do.”

  In the looming shadows that formed from the flickering candlelight, Sally went to work on Emery. She passed the blade of the knife Catey had given her through the candle flame.

  “Hold him, John, this will hurt, if he’s able to feel anything. And be ready in case he wants to cry out.”

  John nodded and gripped the boy’s shoulders firmly.

  * * * * *

  Jess took off his hat, pulled the kerchief from his neck. He wiped perspiration from his face and head, then settled his hat back in place to lessen the glare of the midday sun. He’d been on lookout duty since early morning, keeping a watchful eye out for Rebs or deserters. He’d seen no one, but the forest around Allendale was dense and could easily hide anyone, so he held his gun at the ready and kept his head low wherever possible.

  He was parched. It was time for a break. He made his way deeper into the shade of the forest, finding a suitable glade, ringed with tall cypress pines, the needles providing a soft cushion on which to sit. He sighed, laid his rifle to one side and leaned his back against a cool trunk. Pulling his canteen strap from his shoulder, he drank deeply. The water was cool and tasted delicious. A strip of dried jerky and some withered fruit completed his lunch. Watching a sparrow flit about in search of flying insects, he felt himself relax and grow drowsy. Without realizing it, his eyes closed.

  * * * * *

  Catey lay perfectly still, concentrating on keeping her breathing even. Myriad bugs had collected around her face and she could feel them in her hair. It was all she could do to keep from leaping up and flapping wildly to get them away. Where was Sally? How long would she take? Thankfully Phillips left her where she was. From what she could make out without opening her eyes, he’d first urinated into the undergrowth and was now whittling on a piece of wood, whistling some unintelligible tune.

  After what seemed hours, Catey heard with relief the unmistakable snap and scuff of approaching footsteps. She composed her face into an even more relaxed pose, expecting to hear the sound of Jess’ or Sally’s voice.

  Instead it was Clemens who spoke, sending Catey’s heart directly into her throat.

  “What’s goin’ on here, Private?”

  A hurried scuffle as Phillips leapt to his feet. “Lady’s done swooned, Cap’n. The other one’s gone t’ get medicine.”

  There was a long silence. Catey could feel Clemens’ eyes boring into her. “You let the black bitch go off alone?”

  Catey could all but see Phillips’ nervousness. “She said this’n couldn’t be moved. She said…”

  “She’s fainted, you ass…or so it appears. Did it ever occur to you it was a ploy? So the other one could escape?” Clemens’ voice was hard.

  “Er, no…I…”

  “Get back to the house. I’ll deal with you later. You’d better damn well hope the other bitch shows up.”

  “Y-Yessir.”

  Catey heard the sound of Phillips’ departure and her heart increased its tempo. She was alone and at the mercy of this animal and only Sally knew where she was. It crossed her mind to leap to her feet and try to run but her limbs were stiff from lying immobile and she knew she wouldn’t have a chance.

  “So, missy, let’s see just what’s ailing you, eh?”

  She could smell him. He was very close to her. She heard him getting down on his knees beside her. Even though she’d prepared herself for his touch, it was almost impossible for her to keep from flinching when she felt his fingers touch her throat. He was checking her pulse. She knew it would betray her. She knew it was going much too fast.

  But he didn’t seem to notice. Instead she felt his other hand on her ankle. Slowly it slid up to her knee, pushing her cotton dress up as he went. She’d done away with petticoats and long pantaloons for such a hot trek in the woods—she had only one of each left in any case. Now she felt exposed and terrified. Surely he wouldn’t rape an unconscious woman?

  But she was wrong. He pushed her over onto her back and his hands moved even higher, searing the flesh of her thighs.

  It was too much. She couldn’t lie still any longer. Her eyes flew open and she stared into his leering eyes. His black beard was so close she could almost feel it.

  “I thought that might wake you up,” he said and sneered.

  Catey knew there was no point in trying to talk sense. She knew what his intentions were and her only hope was escape. She began to struggle frantically but he was too quick for her. Within a split second, he had her wrists pinned above her head and her legs spread with one knee. She tried to kick out but the weight of him made it impossible. She twisted left and right but it was useless. She screamed when she felt his tongue on her thigh.

  Finally Clemens lifted his head and leered at her. “Seems Granger ain’t the only one can sample you, eh?” With exaggeration, he stuck out his tongue and licked his lips dramatically. “Sweet,” he said.

  Catey screamed again, this time in sheer hysteria. It was a shrill, piercing scream that sent birds rising in flocks from the forest beyond.

  But Clemens merely laughed. “Ain’t no one around here t’ hear you, sugar. It’s time you and me got acquainted.”

  * * * * *

  The bullet was harder to remove than Sally expected. It was lodged close to the bone and she couldn’t be sure it was intact until she removed it. She knew she mustn’t leave any behind or infection would spread like wildfire.

  At the start, Emery struggled and tried to cry out in his delirium but John placed a large palm over his mouth until he fell into a deeper state of unconsciousness. Sally knew she must hurry. She took a deep breath and dug deeper into the wound, scraping the knife against the bone, then feeling with her fingers as best she could until she had it. In triumph, she held her bloodied hand up to the flickering light, examining the bullet to make sure it hadn’t shattered.

  “It’s all here,” she said.

  John nodded, letting Emery’s arms loose. The big man’s face was as beaded with sweat as Emery’s.

  Sally quickly cleaned the wound, then pulled out the bag
of fine-ground herbs she’d hidden in the pocket of her skirt, mixing them with water until they were the consistency of pulp. She made a poultice, placing it over the wound, then binding it carefully with the remainder of the sheet she’d torn into strips.

  She looked up at John, her face serious. “He needs t’ to drink. Even if you have to dribble it into his mouth drop by drop. Make him drink as much as you can. Keep him warm. And give him a swallow of this five times every day.” She handed John a bottle of medicine. “I gots to go. Miss Catherine may be in danger. We’ll try to come here when we can but they’s watchin’ us.” She stood up, wiping her bloodied hands on one of the discarded rags.

  John stood too and without a word, pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead gently. She momentarily clung to him, then pushed away. “Take care of him, John,” she said. “And stay safe.”

  And with that, she disappeared out the hidden door.

  John sighed, his big shoulders sagging. Finally he turned, extinguished the light and bent to tend to Emery.

  * * * * *

  She jerked frantically from side to side but Clemens’ hand was like an iron clamp on her wrists. She watched in horror as he slowly began to unbutton the front of her dress with his other hand, allowing her breasts to break free. His eyes sparkled and he licked his lips, smiling. He trailed his fingers down her neck, then lowered his head and placed his lips on her ear, taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking like a rooting pig.

  She knew he was toying with her, but eventually he’d lose interest and rape her brutally. The feel of his mouth moving over her exposed flesh, combined with her horrifying sense of helplessness made her lash out even more. Somehow this seemed to please him. She continued to scream. She didn’t even recognize her own voice—it was too high, like the sound of a rabbit caught in a trap. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Prayed that by some miracle she would be preserved from what he meant to do to her.

  * * * * *

  Sally left the stables as silently as she’d arrived, slipping out the back and into the safety and familiarity of the forest. She made her way east, following paths she knew would bring her back to Catey. Despite living all her life at the neighboring plantation, Sally could navigate the woodland as though born to it. As a child she’d spent many hours with her mother searching out medicinal herbs. And if her mother couldn’t find a remedy for whatever ailment was currently critical, Sally was sent posthaste to Mahmusa Janga, the healer-witch who lived deep in the bayou, for potions.

  Sally had learned to read the forest. She felt safe within its shady arms and she knew it would allow no harm to come to her.

  She patted her pocket where she’d stashed another small vial, this one of plain water, to use to “revive” Miss Catherine. If all went well, no one would be the wiser. She hoped she’d done enough to save Master Emery’s life.

  Still, if the fever set in hard and the wound festered, there would be nothing more she could do. But Master Emery was in good hands. John would look after him well. And hopefully, God would be merciful.

  She heard the scream when she was still too far away. She knew the scream—it was one of pure terror. “Miss Catherine!” She began to run, thrusting aside the branches, not caring if her skirts caught on underbrush. Something was very, very wrong.

  * * * * *

  Jess was startled from his brief doze by a piercing scream. It brought him immediately to his feet, his gun at the ready. Then he heard it again and the blood drained from his face. Catey! He set off through the forest toward the sound. If anything happened to her…

  * * * * *

  Sally came upon the scene first. Seeing the half-naked, filthy form of Leroy Clemens atop a struggling and panicked Catherine caused something to snap inside. Without a moment’s hesitation, Sally pulled out the knife she’d just used to remove the bullet from Emery’s shoulder. She raised it high above the broad back of the man she hated and brought it down hard, feeling the satisfying rending of flesh and muscle, seeing the blood well and soak the faded blue of his shirt.

  Clemens gave a sharp cry, rolling to one side, one hand groping for his back but unable to reach the knife. Sally stood over him and his eyes met hers. She didn’t glance away but watched, tight-lipped and emotionless, as the life glow slowly faded and his eyes went dull.

  At that moment, Jess crashed through the underbrush, his eyes wild, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. It took him a moment to make sense of what he saw. Sally stood quite still, staring down at Leroy Clemens. Clemens lay on his side, a knife protruding from his back. Jess’ hand went immediately to his own belt. The sheath was empty. Then his eyes found Catey. She lay curled in a tight ball, sobbing fitfully, her clothing torn.

  Jess fell to his knees beside her and scooped her into his arms, holding her close, feeling her body quiver involuntarily, her tears soaking his shirt. He murmured gently, stroking her soft, tangled hair until, gradually, he felt her tenseness begin to ease and her tears lessen. “Are you all right?”

  He felt her nod.

  “Here, take this. I’ll be right back.” He handed her his kerchief, then turned to Clemens. He pressed his fingers to the side of Clemens’ neck to verify what he already suspected. There was no pulse. He rose to his feet and faced Sally. She stood as though frozen, her eyes almost as glazed as the dead man’s.

  “Sally.” He spoke low, careful. “Sally, what happened here?”

  As though coming back from a great distance, Sally’s attention gradually focused on Jess. “Happened?” she repeated. Then she looked down at Clemens and her eyes widened. “God save me!” she whispered, backing away and making a sign to ward off evil.

  Jess took her by the shoulders and turned her away from the body, forcing her to look at him again. “Sally, I need to know what happened.”

  She was beginning to shiver but swallowed hard. “I-I kilt him. He was…he was…hurtin’…Miss Catherine. I couldn’t have him do it t’ her. I couldn’t.” She was shaking her head fitfully.

  Jess sighed. “It’s okay, Sally.” he said, though he knew full well it wasn’t. “It’ll be all right now. Catey—Miss Catherine’s okay.” He paused and looked down at the body with resignation. “You did what you had to do.”

  And now, Jess thought with a sinking heart, I’ll have to do what I have to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Catey stood staring at the corpse that was once Leroy Clemens. The hilt of Jess’ knife protruded from its back. The eyes were open but sightless. It seemed impossible only a short time before, this—thing—had her pinned helplessly and would have raped her without a moment’s hesitation. Catey held Jess’ kerchief to her nose and mouth. Despite the heat of the day, she still shivered. She felt dirty—the feel of Clemens’ tongue and filthy fingers was still tangible between her legs. She felt sick.

  She looked over at Sally. The girl was pale gray, staring at the body as though mesmerized. Catey mentally pulled herself together and went to her friend, putting her arms around her, feeling the other girl’s rigidity. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt anyone, now. You did the right thing. He‑he would’ve raped me, or worse. You saved me.”

  Sally began to relax a bit and Catey could feel hot tears on her shoulder. She patted the girl’s back, letting her cry, wishing she could shed her revulsion with her own tears. Shielding Sally with her body, she watched as Jess turned Clemens on his side, grasped the hilt of the knife and pulled it out. It didn’t come easily. There was a large puddle of blood congealing on the squashed ferns and weeds and the dirty blue shirt Clemens wore was saturated. Flies and other insects were beginning to feast on the gore. Catey shut her eyes tight in revulsion, then opened them, trying to make sense of it all.

  Jess said nothing about the knife. Surely he would be wondering why Sally had his knife. Instead, he glanced up at them and spoke evenly. “We’ll have to get rid of the body.”

  Catey blinked, lost for words. It was Sally who spoke. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and too
k a deep breath. “I knows where to take him.”

  “Where?” Jess had closed Clemens’ eyes, the only sign of his distaste was the bulge of muscle in his jaw.

  “The bayou don’t give back what’s dead.”

  Jess raised an eyebrow but nodded. “How far?”

  “Not too far. I knows the way.”

  Catey swallowed hard. Her throat was dry and still ached from screaming. “We’ll have to hurry. Phillips knows he was here.”

  Jess rubbed a hand through his hair, then he stooped and pulled the body upright. “I’ll need you both to help. I have to get him on my back to carry him.”

  Catey hesitated, loath to go near Clemens. But Sally’s hand on her shoulder gave her courage and she knew she had no choice. Together, they managed to half lift, half shove the corpse across Jess’ shoulders. He held on tightly, his teeth clenched with the effort, staggering under the weight. But eventually he nodded to Sally to show the way.

  They made their way deeper into the forest, with Jess stopping often to lean against a tree to rest. Sweat soaked his shirt and plastered his hair to his head.

  It was becoming gloomier and not just from the dark clouds roiling up overhead. The trees here were dense, rising high, their canopies draped with moss, interwoven so they nearly blocked out the sky. It was damp and cooler here and Catey could smell the pungent vegetative decay and stagnant water of the bayou ahead. Moss grew thick on the ground and on the sides of the trees. There were different birdcalls here and mysterious whirring and thumping sounds. As a child, Catey was told never to go near the bayou. There were frightening stories of people who’d wandered into the depths and never been heard of again.

  By the time they reached the bank edging the still, greenish water, they were all drenched with sweat. The air was oppressively damp. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Jess dropped the body on the spongy earth and took deep breaths, hands on hips.