Winds of the Storm (27 page)

Zahra pulled away. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want anything to drink.

Wilma's voice grew firmer, “Drink Zahra, you'll feel better.”

Her throat was so dry and felt so foreign she swallowed and tasted cool water on her lips, then she drifted back to sleep.

When she awakened again, she was more clearheaded and so opened her eyes. Startled to see that she was in a moving wagon, she stilled at the sight of her companions: Wilma, Brandon Crete, and the driver, Mitchell Isenbaum.

Wilma said, “It's good to have you back with us, lass.”

Zahra could only stare.

“Aren't you going to say hello to my friends?”

Zahra didn't respond.

“And here I was just telling them all about your fine manners.”

“Where are you taking me?” she asked angrily. Still dressed as Minnie Turpin she was hot and uncomfortable. She noted that both Isenbaum and Crete appeared to be very pleased with themselves but she ignored them for now.

“Where's the book?” Wilma asked Zahra.

“What book?”

They were traveling along a rutted country road Zahra was unfamiliar with.

“The Death Book.”

“We never found it. It was all a ruse to see who would come out of the woodwork after it.”

“You're lying.”

Zahra remained cool. “Am I? I never showed it to you did I? I spoke of having found one, but you never saw it in my possession.”

Wilma's eyes narrowed. “What about the wires you had me send to Tubman?”

“Did you send them?”

“Of course not.”

Zahra hid her profound disappointment. “How long have you been working on the wrong side?”

Before the woman Zahra had always considered a friend could answer, Crete answered, “Long enough to be of great value to our cause.”

Wilma inclined her head. “I'm honored to be able to serve.”

Zahra seethed. Zahra had trusted her. Araminta had trusted her. Now it was quite apparent
that she'd been in with the supremacists the entire time. Zahra could care less how Wilma's perfidy had impacted the information needed by the president, but the possible damage done to the spiders set up across the South by Henry Adams would impact lives. Had she passed on false information? Zahra had no way of knowing. She did know that Wilma hadn't passed along the warnings about the Death Books, thus leaving the men named ignorant of the danger. According to Araminta, back in the days of abolition, traitors such as Wilma had often been found floating face up in the rivers, lakes, and streams of places like Ohio, Michigan, and Pennsylvania after having been visited by agents of retribution. Zahra wished Wilma a similar fate.

Zahra wondered how long it might take Archer and the others to realize she was missing. She was certain once they did they'd mount a campaign to find and rescue her, but it was going to take all of Archer's deductive skills to do so. She looked for landmarks that might help her get home such as: the big bent Cypress they passed a few miles back, and a stand of magnolias that were just beginning to bloom. Granted she'd not be able to see any of that should she escape at night, but at that point Zahra was trying to file in her memory as much information as she could for future reference.

“Where are we going?”

Crete answered her by saying, “When Faye told us the Butterfly was in New Orleans all I could do was smile because I've been after you a long time.
When you stole those maps back in '63, some of the generals put a bounty on your head. Ten thousand dollars. That's a lot of money.”

Isenbaum grinned. “Sure is, and I can't wait to get my share.”

Zahra stilled. “So where are you taking me?”

“To collect the bounty and put you on trial.”

“For what?”

“Crimes against the Confederacy. The war's not over for us.”

The possibility of being made to pay for having been a agent of the government was something Zahra had feared since the end of the war, and now it had come to pass. If she were ever to see Archer and her parents again, she had to find a way to escape.

 

“Anything yet?” Archer asked Alfred anxiously.

Alfred shook his head. “It's as if she's vanished into thin air.”

Archer didn't want to hear that, but it appeared to be true. No one had seen Zahra since Sable let her off at Wilma's this afternoon. She hadn't shown up at his mother's as promised and Archer and everyone else who cared about her had spent the afternoon combing the city for clues. The fact that the dress shop was closed and that Wilma seemed to have disappeared as well added more mystery to the riddle.

“Where could she be?” Archer asked.

“Do you think that mistress of yours could be involved?”

Archer shook his head. “No. Lynette and her
aunt left town right after Zahra scared them silly that afternoon.”

“What about Etienne Barber.”

Once again Archer shook his head. “Barber moved his operations to Biloxi a couple weeks back.”

The Le Veq brothers entered Archer's office. “Anything?”

“No. Nothing,” Raimond said. “Isenbaum's place is deserted and since we have no idea where Crete is living it's impossible to know if he's involved.”

Alfred said, “I knew I should have gone with her and Miss Sable today, but she wouldn't let me.”

Archer was certain that Alfred's anxiety matched his own.

“The fact that both she and Wilma have vanished points to them being together, wouldn't you think?” Drake asked.

Everyone nodded but they had no answers to the question as to where the women might be.

By evening they seemed no closer to finding Zahra than they'd been that afternoon and Archer knew the longer she stayed missing the higher were the chances that she'd become a victim of foul play. Not knowing where she was was wearing on him. He'd never been so fearful for someone he cared about. He and Alfred had spent the last few hours trying to locate some of Isenbaum's associates in an effort to track down the White Leaguer to see if he was involved, but it was as if all the rats had scurried into their holes and were nowhere to be found.

Archer's suite was the command center. He'd
just returned from another fruitless search when Raimond walked in. Archer could tell by his brother's solemn face that he had no news.

“How are you holding up?” Raimond asked.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“Sable has all of her people on the lookout, too. Maybe we'll know more in the morning.”

Archer hoped so. The knowledge that he might never see Zahra again was tearing him apart. “What does love mean to you, Rai?”

If Raimond was surprised by the query he didn't let on. Instead, he shrugged. “Waking up every day with Sable in my arms. Holding her close and thanking the heavens for blessing me with such joy. It's looking at a little girl who has her grandmere's face and her mama's eyes. It's all that, brother, and more.”

“Then I suppose I'm in love. Except for the child part. Hopefully that will come later.”

“I guessed as much.”

“So what do I do now?”

“Find her and tell her how you feel.”

“She's planning on leaving when this is over.”

“Then find her and don't tell her, but at least admit to yourself how you feel.”

The advice felt right to Archer and it offered him a modicum of peace. “When did you become so wise?”

“The moment I knew I couldn't live without her.”

Archer nodded his understanding. He turned and looked into his brother's face. “Thanks, Rai.”

“Anytime, mon frere.”

Sable arrived moments later and her green eyes
were sparkling with excitement. She had a middle-aged man with her. “This is Mr. Mayfield and he saw the men who took Miss Turpin.”

Hope filled Archer for the first time today. “When?”

“This afternoon,” Sable said. “Tell them, Mr. Mayfield.”

“I have a fruit stand and I sometimes dump the old crop behind the grocer next to the dress shop. I was back there today when I saw two men with Miss Turpin. She looked sick because the men had her between them and they were walking her to a wagon that was waiting there.”

“How did you know it was her?” Archer asked.

“Met her this morning with Miss Sable. Miss Turpin was looking for her kidnapped grandchild.”

“Did you recognize the men?”

“I did. One was that White Leaguer Mitchell Isenbaum.”

“Are you sure it was him?” Raimond asked him.

“Real sure. I'm a Republican. Seen him on the corners and in the parks spouting his hate. Saw him at the rally where that little boy was killed. I know Isenbaum when I see him. That's why I hid myself behind the grocer's big packing crates when they brought Miss Turpin out.”

He paused for a moment, then said earnestly, “I probably should have asked what they were up to, but I know those Leaguers don't like being questioned by us and I didn't want to wind up like that little boy.”

Sable reassured him. “No one is faulting you, Mr. Mayfield. If you hadn't hid you might not be here now to tell us what you saw.”

“My wife's right, Mr. Mayfield. Did you recognize the second man?”

“Yep, but only because it was the same face that's on the flyer Miss Sable and Miss Turpin gave me this morning.”

And now Archer knew that Isenbaum and Crete had taken Zahra. “What about the lady who owns the dress shop, did you see her anywhere?”

Mayfield nodded. “Once the men laid Miss Turpin down in the wagon, the dress shop lady came out. She locked her door and got in with them. Then they drove away.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayfield,” Archer said. On one level he was relieved by the story, but on another level he was even more afraid for Zahra because he knew what Crete and Isenbaum were capable of. Wilma's role would have to be discerned later.

Sable left to drive Mr. Mayfield home. She'd then return to Juliana's to await further word.

“Now what?” Raimond asked Archer.

“We need to find out where they might have taken her. We know they're not at Isenbaum's. If we can flush out some of his friends we might learn something useful.”

“You found the Death Books at Dawes' cigar shop. Let's start with him.”

“Good idea. He wasn't home earlier. Maybe he's returned.”

 

Zahra and her captors traveled until it became so dark the lanterns on each side of the buggy had to be lit in order to see their way clear. From the confidence Isenbaum showed as he drove, Zahra believed he knew where he was going. From her days as Domino she remembered Matilda referencing Isenbaum's cabin in Baton Rouge. Was that where they were taking her?

 

Cigar shop owner Hathaway Dawes awakened to a nightmare. A dozen men wearing black hoods were circled around his bed. And in the dark they looked like demons from hell. “Where is she?” one of them barked.

He was confused but wide awake. “Who?”

“The woman Crete kidnapped. The woman known as the Butterfly.”

“I don't—”

The man who'd spoken reached down and roughly dragged Dawes' five foot three frame so close Dawes swore he could feel the heat blazing from the demon's eyes. The man voiced coldly, “I am going to kill someone tonight. Shall I begin with you?”

Dawes let out a squeak of fear.

“I'm going to ask you one more time—”

“Baton Rouge,” he cried. “Mitchell has a cabin there. That's where the trial's going to be.”

Archer stilled. “Trial? What trial!”

Dawes was shaking violently. “She's going to be tried for crimes against the Confederacy. Please don't kill me!”

Archer made him give them directions to the
cabin then threw him loose and stepped back. “Were I you, Dawes, I'd leave New Orleans. If she is harmed, I'll be back to send you to hell.”

Dawes squeaked again and the man departed.

 

Outside, Archer and the others mounted their horses and rode towards the road. Archer was about out of his mind. According to Mayfield's story Zahra had been taken around two in the afternoon and now it was nine hours later. Archer knew how resourceful Zahra was and that under most circumstances she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but this was not a normal occurrence. Crete represented hate. He and his followers stood for the basest of human values and they had Zahra. His Zahra. If they harmed her he would hunt them down like the rabid cowards they were.

 

When Zahra awakened, it was morning. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and Crete was driving. She was surprised she'd been able to sleep but she didn't feel rested or renewed. Although stops had been made to accommodate her physical needs, no food had been provided so far. She was hungry. The last time she'd eaten had been at the Christophe with Sable. She knew she had to set her hunger aside, though. What she was facing would be far more deleterious to her health than hunger, by far.
Tried for crimes against the Confederacy,
Crete had said. Were he and the others hunting down all the Black dispatches who'd spied for the Union or just her? Was there a death book of sorts listing their names, too?

The sun was directly overhead when the wagon left the main road and took a rutted track that led through the trees. An hour later, they stopped before a small cabin set out in the middle of nowhere. There were no other houses nearby for as far as the eye could see. She had no idea where she was, but she knew she was a long way from New Orleans and Archer. She pushed him out of her mind again. Thinking about him and what he and the others must be going through only made her despondent. She needed to remain clearheaded and alert if she was going to survive this, and the Good Lord willing, she would.

Z
ahra had been locked inside a small room since their arrival at the cabin a few hours ago. They had at least allowed her to remove the wig, cotton batting, and the uneven brogans, but at the moment her comfort was the least of her problems. She had to get out. Staying here and being put on trial was not anything she wanted to participate in, but the room had only a six-inch cut in the wall serving as a window and the door was locked. Besides, so far there'd been no opportunities to escape.

Suddenly, she heard a key scratching at the lock, and moments later the door was opened. It was Wilma, and behind her stood an armed man whose face was hidden beneath a dirty white pillow slip with cutout openings for his eyes. Hanging across Wilma's arm was what appeared to be a garment made of fine white satin.

She walked into the room. “This is for you, lass.” She offered Zahra the garment, but Zahra didn't take it.

“What is it?”

“A simple robe. It's what you are to wear for your trial. I made it myself.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you'll be presented as naked as a niggress on the slave block. The panel of judges would enjoy that, no doubt.”

Zahra hated the triumph shining in Wilma's eyes, but she took the robe.

“You always were smart. Now get dressed and someone will come for you soon.”

The man behind Wilma placed a small bucket of water on the floor just inside the door.

Wilma explained, “So you can wash off that paint. The judges want to see the face of the woman who helped defeat the South.”

That said, she and the man withdrew. Zahra heard the lock click, and she was alone again.

Zahra washed her face with the rag and the small sliver of soap that had been in the bucket, then she removed the clothing she'd worn as Minnie. She took a moment to run the rag over herself in an attempt to rid her skin of sweat and grime, then she held up the robe. It was long and designed to be put on over her head. In the center, a large white star had been appliquéd to the fabric, and the rays beaming off the star were blood red. Grim, she shook her head and put the thing on. It was long sleeved, voluminous enough for her to move in comfortably, and flowed to her feet. Dressed now, she waited.

 

Archer and his contingent were on their bellies, hiding in the rushes about one hundred yards from Isenbaum's cabin. They could see by the light being cast from fires burning in two large pits on the side of the place. People were preparing for some kind of outdoor activity. Two men appeared out of the darkness, carrying a long trestle table. They set it a ways back from the fire, then returned carrying stools—five in all, by Archer's count as he looked through the spyglass. He was glad for the fires, because without them the glasses would be useless.

Beside him, Raimond, another glass to his eye, asked, “How are you, brother?”

“I'll be better once we have her back.”

All he wanted was to hold Zahra in his arms again and never let her go. The ride here had been an anguishing one. He'd had to let his anger rule, otherwise despair would have taken over. The thoughts of never seeing her again, never hearing her laugh, never having the chance to tell her that he loved her as much as his life had ridden with him the entire way. And he did love her, he just wished the fates hadn't dealt him such a dangerous hand to make him realize it.

Archer continued to watch the scene playing out before them, hoping for a glimpse of Zahra. Until they saw her, they couldn't be certain she was here. Instead, a line of five people dressed in white hooded robes came out of the darkness. The firelight shimmered eerily off their satin costumes. After the five took seats on the stools behind the trestle table, another group filed in,
carrying lit torches. Archer counted twenty-five. There were eleven in his group.

“About two apiece,” a pleased-sounding Raimond whispered.

Archer liked the odds, too. Now if he could just see Zahra.

 

By the time Zahra was finally escorted from the room by two costumed men carrying burning torches, she was almost relieved. Almost. During the war, she'd had to extricate herself from some dangerous situations, but none as dangerous as this.

They led her outside into the cool night air. She saw the fires and the white-robed individuals gathered around them. All were turned and looking her way. She knew her captors were hoping the scene would frighten her, and it did, but being frightened and surrendering were two different things.

The wind picked up slightly, blowing embers into the air, and Zahra was grateful for the breeze. It felt good after being cooped up all day. Zahra stood silently before the robed judges. Her training kept her eyes focused on the one man, now rising from his seat. Outwardly, she looked calm. Inside, she was more afraid than she'd ever been in her life, but she held her head high.

As the man began to speak, Zahra recognized the voice as Crete's. “Sons and Daughters of the White Star,” he called out commandingly against the night. “I present to you the woman known as Butterfly.”

Horns blew and whistles trilled in response.
The Sons and Daughters were having such a good time celebrating her capture that when the riders came charging into the camp with guns firing, it took them a moment to comprehend what was happening. Then they began to run, screaming, yelling, tripping on their snow-white robes as they fled the riders and their big mounts. Zahra took the opportunity to push over the table, then she ran for her life. She heard Crete scream, “Get her! Get her!”

Zahra turned back to see if they were gaining on her and was stunned when she saw Wilma fire a pistol at Crete, then fire again. Crete staggered back, then sagged against the table before sliding from view. It all happened so fast, and she was taken by such surprise, she didn't realize she was standing still until she heard Wilma scream, “Run lass! Run!”

Zahra forced herself into motion and ran towards the tree line.

The Sons and Daughters had by now regrouped and were returning firing. But the riders having the advantage of surprise, speed and height were a more formidable and efficient force.

In the chaos of bullets and mayhem, the mounted Archer set his sights on Zahra. He could see her running fast. A man in a robe was right behind her. Spurring his horse on, he shouted her name. She looked up and ran towards him. He fired his pistol, the man dropped. Zahra held up her arms and let herself be scooped up and placed down hard on the saddle in front of him. “It's about time!” she said happily.

“Hang on!” Archer yelled, and then they were
galloping towards the trees. His mounted companions were right on his heels.

 

On the slow ride back, Zahra cuddled against Archer and savored the feel of being near him, Standing before Crete's judges, she'd doubted ever being able to do this again, but Archer and his companions had ridden to her rescue like the Black cavalry that toppled Richmond during the war. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“You're welcome.”

“You brought your own army I see.” His brothers were with him, as were Alfred, and his cousin Roland, and some of the Black veterans from the night patrols.

“Had to.”

She was grateful for the rescue. Being with him filled her heart. “How'd you know where to find me?”

Archer told her the story of Mr. Mayfield, and then about the bedtime visit they paid on Hathaway Dawes.

She asked him, “Did you see Wilma shoot Crete back there?”

Archer was surprised by that. “No. When?”

“During the melee. Shot him at least twice.” Then Zahra related Wilma's role in her capture. “She had Crete convinced she was on their side.”

“Was she?”

“Seeing her shoot him makes me say no, but I'm not sure of anything about her anymore.”

“Whatever side she's on, I'll never forgive her for putting you in their clutches. Did she escape?”

“I don't know that either.” Zahra had quite a few questions for Wilma, but she didn't know if she'd ever see the Irishwoman again.

Archer asked, “So, is there a reward for your rescue.”

Zahra smiled up and purred, “Oh, yes, and as soon as we get back to New Orleans, I'm going to give you such a boon you won't be able to walk.”

He chuckled. “Then let's get you home. He looked down into her face and his voice took on a more serious tone. “I'm glad you're safe, Zahra.”

Reaching up, she cupped his unshaven cheek. “So am I.”

 

Back in New Orleans, Zahra was greeted with hugs and joyful tears from Juliana and Sable. The next day, Juliana threw a small party to celebrate Zahra's successful return that was attended by the Le Veqs and the men and women of Zahra's staff.

Afterwards, Archer and Zahra returned to his suite and fell tiredly onto the sofa. “Can I sleep for the next two weeks?” Zahr asked wearily.

“Only if I can join you.”

Zahra's rides to Baton Rouge and back to New Orleans had taken a physical toll compounded by her lack of food and sleep. She'd recovered a bit in the two days since her return but she was still very tired. When Archer leaned down and kissed her however, she was infused with a rush of sweet energy so familiar she leaned up to receive more. She'd missed his kisses almost as much as she'd missed him and she wanted to show him how much. Soon hands were undoing buttons, and
tongues were mating and as always, Zahra wound up wearing no drawers beneath her beautiful plum-colored gown.

Archer carried her towards his room, lingering in the darkness on the way to taste her kiss swollen lips, then placed her gently on the bed. Just like the first night he'd made love to her there, the moonlight streamed through the large windows. Archer removed the rest of his clothes and fed his eyes on her partially nude form. Her breasts were bared and the gown was rucked up on her thighs. She was a vision of erotic loveliness he couldn't wait to pleasure.

And pleasure her he did, from the passion hardened nipples of her breasts to the damp hidden treasure between her thighs, Archer lavished her, aroused her. She climaxed the first time in response to his fingers and lips, then came again while positioned lustily atop him. He turned her over, and it didn't take long for him to yell his own release.

They spent the rest of the night in a sensual, uninhibited world all their own, and when they were both too sated to do more, they clung to each other and slept.

Zahra awakened first the following morning and smiled over at the sight of him asleep. His light snores gently broke the silence. Last night's lovemaking had been the stuff of dreams. She had never felt so cherished, so wanton. It was the kind of loving that could bind two people for life she sensed, which was why leaving him in the next few days was so imperative. He was the type of man who could make a woman turn her back on
everything else just to see his smile, and Zahra's ties to her family precluded that. He also didn't love her, another serious issue for her because she loved him like she loved breathing. Filled with uncharacteristic regret, she gave him a bittersweet smile, then snuggled back under the blankets for more sleep.

The next day, Zahra received a letter from Wilma.

Very surprised by what that meant, Zahra read on.

Archer sensed Zahra was withdrawing from him. There'd been nothing specific really but she'd seemed preoccupied and distracted for the past few days. A week had passed since her rescue and return to his life, but he wasn't sure how long she planned to remain, and he cared for her too much to broach the subject without cause. At dinner in his apartments that evening, she said, “I've sent all of my people back to their homes.”

“Even Alfred?”

“No, he's going to stay around for a few more days before heading off.”

“I'll miss having your giant around.”

“As will I.”

He studied her. She'd gone silent and was looking off in the distance in a way that made him think her thoughts were far away. “Zahra,” he said softly.

She met his eyes.

“If you're leaving, I need to know.” Archer hadn't wanted to press the matter but knew the time had come.

Zahra had hoped to not have this conversation but knew that had been unrealistic. She'd never been one to not meet a situation head on, but she'd never been in love before. Her feelings for him were making her walk in unfamiliar territory. “I am going, Archer.”

The declaration twisted both their hearts.

“I'm going first to Washington and then home to South Carolina.”

“And then?”

“I don't know.”

“I need you in my life, Zahra.”

The pain made Zahra look away. She needed him as well, but she couldn't be his mistress and watch him marry someone else. She also had to go home. Crete and his people had planned to try her, find her guilty and end her life. While locked up in that room awaiting her fate, wanting to see her parents just one more time had been as important to her as seeing Archer again. As it stood now, James and Marie Lafayette didn't know whether their only child was dead or alive, and with all the turmoil going on in South Carolina, she wasn't sure if they were still living either. She could take the easy way out and send a letter, but in her heart, she knew she needed to go and see for herself. “I have to see my parents, Archer.”