Midnight Rose (40 page)

Erin was cold with fear. “If you don’t start making sense—”

“You’ll do what?” he challenged. “The best thing for you to do is stop worrying about your momma, because she’s gone, and you can’t do anything to get her back. The thing you best concern yourself with is making sure that rich husband you and her managed to snag for you don’t find out the truth and do the same thing with you that I done to her.”

Erin shook her head in disgust. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to this nonsense. I’m just going to ride into Richmond and ask the sheriff to come out here. Maybe you’ll talk to him.” Her knees were knocking together, and she felt anything but brave as she started for the door. It was obvious he wasn’t going to tell her anything, and she was wasting time listening to him. Something awful had happened to her mother. She could feel it in her heart.

“The sheriff won’t help no high yaller.”

“You just don’t stop trying to hurt me, do you?” she asked incredulously. “First you drag Letty off to be sold, because she was in the way of your trying to sneak into my room, but thank God, she escaped. Then you won’t tell me where my mother’s gone, just to worry me, and now you’re making up lies. If I didn’t loathe you so much, Zachary, I’d feel sorry for you. But the truth is, you’re a contemptible bastard, and I hope the
obeah
succeeds in giving you what you deserve.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I mighta known you had something to do with that, too, that you and your momma were in on it together. But it’s not going to work. I’ve got orders out to kill that witch doctor, Tulwah, on sight, and when he’s dead, I’m going to hang him by his heels from the whipping post and let the crows eat his eyes out, so the others can watch him rot and see what happens when anybody dares try voodoo on my land.

“As for you, you arrogant little bitch—” He began to move toward her, stepping around the table as she backed away. “If you don’t want Ryan Youngblood to find out he’s married to a mulatto, you’d best sweeten up to me and give me what I’ve had a hankerin’ for all these years.” He began to unfasten his pants. “So you just get them clothes off and lay down on that straw in that stall right behind you and spread them long, pretty legs of yours.”

Erin was only slightly terrified by his physical threat. The real horror washing over her came from his words, so easily spoken, as though he actually believed them himself. “You’re lying,” she protested shakily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell I don’t,” he sneered. “Your momma told me about her grandmother being a Negro before we got married, ’cause she said she didn’t want no secrets between us. It didn’t matter then, not as bad as I wanted her. It was only later, when the fire cooled, that I realized what a fool I’d been and started worryin’ about how if we had younguns, they might be colored.

“How come you think she had you wash all the time in that special water she mixed up?” he went on to taunt. She continued to back away from him, horror mirrored in her eyes as she began to believe he might be telling the truth. “That was supposed to keep your skin light. Worked, too, didn’t it? Nobody thought nothing, except you had natural dark coloring. Pretty little bitch, you are, too. Just about the prettiest mulatto I’ve ever seen. I imagine you fire up Youngblood, too, but I doubt he’ll like the idea that you might just one day present him with a son that’s black as the ace of spades. That happens sometimes, you know. Blood turns around in generations.”

Erin felt the roaring within as she realized that whether or not what he was saying was true, he believed it to be, and that had to have something to do with whatever had happened to her mother. “What have you done with her?” Washed with rage, she looked about wildly for a weapon. He stealthily continued his advance. Blindly, she’d backed into the stall and found herself trapped. And, strangely, in that hysterical moment, she wished for Ryan, knew this would not be happening if he were there. Only he wasn’t, and she had to defend herself.

Behind Zachary, she saw the pitchfork leaning against the wall but couldn’t get to it.

“I won’t say anything,” he promised with a hungry grin. “And he’ll never know. All you got to do is be nice to me. Just this once. I’ll keep your secret just like I kept your momma’s. But you might like it. You might find me more of a man than Youngblood, and you’ll want more…”

Erin felt sick to her stomach with fear as well as revulsion. With her back pressed against the rough wooden wall, she was trapped.

“’Course there’s the chance he’ll hear how I sold her off, because she dared use that voodoo shit, but I’ll deny everything if he asks, just for you. I’ll say she ran off with another man.” He gave a vicious grunt as he suddenly leaped on her, wrestling her to the straw floor, hoarsely crying, “If you don’t want to take ’em off, goddamn it, I’ll rip ’em off. I don’t have all day. I got a runaway to go after, and I’ve waited long enough—”

Erin fought with all her strength, kicking, biting, scratching, thrashing from side to side as he ripped at her clothes. Her struggles only served to excite him all the more. Around them, horses stamped in their stalls, snorting, rearing up in their own kind of terror over the humans grappling with each other.

Victoria bit down on the fist she had crammed into her mouth to stifle her horrified gasps. The stupor that had held her captive as the shock washed over her slowly released its grip. Her son had married a mulatto. No matter how thin the blood, the thought that her grandchild would not be of pure blood and defined lineage was too repulsive even to contemplate. Dear Lord, she realized with a fresh wave of dismay, if what Zachary Tremayne had said were true, and he had indeed sold Arlene into slavery, then Erin was now the daughter of a slave. And by law, Ryan had the right to sell her, too, and, oh, the whole situation was dizzying. She couldn’t think straight but knew she had to get out of there as fast as possible.

She ran down the path to where she’d left her horse. All she wanted to do was get as far away as fast as possible, before the screams of rage lunged from the very pit of her soul.

From the corner of her eye, Rosa saw the woman running away as if the Devil himself were right on her heels. She had seen the men mount and ride off, but something cold struck her just then. No doubt it was her own
obeah
again, the spirit of good rising to defend against evil, to destroy, if
need be, and she sensed, knew, Erin was in trouble. The overseer had his back turned just then, and as the others purposely ignored her, she began to creep stealthily from the field. When she reached the path that led to the stable, she broke into a run, and, as she got closer, could hear Erin’s cries for help.

In her panic, she stumbled and pitched forward, felt the flesh tear from her hands and knees. Daring to glance back as she staggered to her feet, she was grateful that the overseer had not yet missed her.

Plunging into the barn, she followed the sounds and reached the stall in time to see Zachary slam his fist into Erin’s face. She lay very still then, and he was jerking her legs apart for his full assault upon her body.

Without thinking what she was doing, Rosa saw the pitchfork hanging on the wall and snatched it down. Holding it high, ready to plunge into Zachary’s back, she screamed. He turned just in time to thrust himself upward, catching her knees with his shoulder and sending her sprawling backward.

“Try to kill me, will you? You goddamn wench!” He tore the pitchfork from her and, as fast as the wink of an eye, drove it into her stomach and jerked it out again.

Erin had stirred as Rosa’s terrified scream split the air, and she flashed to consciousness in time to see Zachary make ready once more to plunge the silver prongs downward. She was on him in a flash, flinging herself against his back and reaching around to gouge her fingers into his eyes. He dropped the tool. In painful desperation he sought to yank her hands away. He swung, striking the side of her head. She fell backward, but he had lost his balance, dropped the pitchfork, and when he fell to the side, a sharp steely prong pierced his cheek.

With a yowl of pain and a gush of blood, he freed himself, staggered to his feet, and ran from the barn.

Stricken, Erin gathered Rosa in her arms, not knowing what to do. The blood was pouring from her stomach. Sobbing, she vowed, “You’ll be all right. I’ll get Tulwah, and he’ll take care of you. Just be calm, and still.”

“No, Miz Erin,” Rosa whispered faintly, a crimson trickle at one corner of her mouth. Her eyes were glazing over, and she couldn’t focus, couldn’t see the face of the young girl she’d loved ever since Erin was little. “It’s almost over, child. I’m goin’ home. But you find your momma. They took her away…”

Erin pleaded, “Don’t try to talk now, Rosa, please.”

“Got to talk, ’cause you got to find her. That trader, Donovan. He’s the one you gotta find. But you got to get out of here now. The mastah, he’ll hurt you bad. You got to run.”

Erin shook her head. She wasn’t about to leave Rosa, no matter her own danger. She also knew Zachary was hurt bad, and he’d be no threat. Not for a while, anyway. “I’m going to get help for you—”

“No!” Feebly, but with determination, Rosa reached out to touch her check in farewell. “I’m goin’ now, and so are you. Far away. ’Cause you wore gray on your weddin’ day, Miz Erin, and that means you’ll go a long, long way…and you’ll find your momma. I know you will…”

Her head rolled to one side, eyes frozen in death.

Erin felt herself slipping away, the throbbing pain in her head from Zachary’s blows becoming more intense. Her vision was becoming blurred, and there was anguish in her side from where he’d kicked her as she fought him. There was nothing more she could do for Rosa, so she concentrated on getting away before he came back.

But where could she go?

Would Ryan even want her if he knew the truth about her heritage? Oh, dear God, she prayed so, for in the moment of reckoning, as Rosa had slipped away and her own life seemed to ebb before her, she knew with stark, cold, awareness just how much she did love him.

But now it might be too late for him ever to know that.

She reached out and caught the railing, pulled herself to her feet. Sam Wade would help. All she had to do was make it back to her horse and ride to where he was camped. But the effort was too much. Finally her knees buckled, and her legs gave way.

She slumped back down into the bloodied straw, falling beside Rosa’s lifeless body.

Drifting to merciful, peaceful oblivion, Erin was not aware of the footsteps creeping from the shadows.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Erin struggled to awaken, to pull free of
the cobwebs that seemed to hold her captive. Her head was pounding and there was a terrible ache in her jaw, and she didn’t know why.

She also had no idea where she was.

Despite the pain, she managed to sit up and glance around. She seemed to be in a crude hut of some sort. The air was a bit fetid and damp, and she could smell the richness of the earth beneath her pallet of straw and corn stalks.

Through a small opening a few feet away, a flickering campfire could be seen. She could tell it was nighttime, but not by the sky, for a sentinel ring of trees and scrub brush shut out any glimpse of horizon. It was the monotonous drone of the crickets and tree frogs that told her the day had long since ended.

As she tried to figure out what it all meant, something else needled amid the throbbing in her brain. It was a darkness looming, slowly changing to a hazy cloud, transcending to a whispering mist, and, finally, a swirling haze that parted into stark reality. A cry escaped her as the macabre scene reappeared in her anguished mind—Zachary’s brutal attack, Rosa’s tragic death.

Covering her face with her hands, she sank back to the ground and allowed her grief to take her away in painful lament. But she cried only for Rosa, not Zachary’s taunting of her mixed blood. That made no difference; not to her, anyway, for she was the same person she’d always been. So was her mother, God help her, whatever her cruel fate might be.

“Oh, God, does the injustice never end?” she wailed out loud, lost in her misery.

“No, my child. Not till freedom begins.” Tulwah moved from the shadows where he’d been sitting, waiting for her to awaken.

Startled but unafraid, she realized then where she must be—the swamp and Tulwah’s hideaway. She glanced up at him through laced fingers and asked, “You brought me here? But why?”

“To save you from the Devil.” He touched gentle fingertips to the swelling beneath her left eye. He had made a poultice for her bruises out of boiled dogwood bark and toadskin shavings and applied it off and on throughout the day. There was some discoloration, he noted, which would probably get worse before it got better. He went on to tell her of the danger that now existed for her. “Tremayne was injured by one of the pitchfork prongs that killed Rosa. He’s sworn revenge on you.”

“On me?” she scoffed, incredulous. “What about revenge on him for murdering Rosa?”

“There’s no punishment for a man killing his own slave. You know that. I’ve heard he has a terrible wound. He almost lost his eye.”

“I wish it’d been his black heart instead.”

“So do many others, my child.”

“What about Rosa?” She hesitated to ask. “You didn’t leave her there, did you?”

“She’s at peace. They buried her this morning.”