Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03] (17 page)

“It’s likely. Miz Mac’s gettin’ thin’s ready. She and the three little gals’ll take to the caves. Aee and Bee is as good shots as I ever did see. Many Spots has gone t’ the Osage. They won’t just stand by if we be attacked.”

“Has Vega enough men for that?”

“He don’t need many. He’s got a cannon.”

“If Vega connects with Otto,
m’sieur,
” Paul said, “he will know women are here.”

“An’ he’ll have two more kegs of gunpowder,” MacMillan said with a heavy sigh.

“Where does he take the women?” Light asked quietly.

“Caleb says he takes ’em to a place south of Natchez. Uses some there in a pleasure house an’ sells others t’ ship out t’ heathen lands.”

“How does Caleb know this?”

“Vega bought ’im t’ use as a stud. They sold off his offsprin’s, an’ he had a passel of ’em, for breedin’. He ran off four or five years back. Don’t know how he managed t’ get through the Delaware, but he did.”

“If Vega knows Caleb is here, he’s sure to demand his property?” Paul asked.

“Far as I know he don’t know it. Vega thinks Negroes is dumb two-legged animals, too dumb t’ come all this way all by their own self.”

“
M’sieur,
Kruger will tell him,” Paul said quietly.

“God bless! That’s right!” MacMillan said flatly, his eyes full of anguish. “I’ll hide Caleb away. Ain’t goin’ t’ let that bastard get his hands on ’im. By the time he got done, poor Caleb’d not be fit t’ shoot.”

“I talked about this to Eli,” Paul said. “He says take what you need from his cargo to protect your home and family. There are eight more kegs of gunpowder, and ten rifles, if Kruger didn’t take them.”

“Many Spots says Kruger slipped over the side and pulled the canoe t’ the river a’fore he climbed in. I had counted the kegs, thinkin’ t’ trade Nielson for all. That’s how I know two are gone.”

“What do you suggest,
m’sieur?
”

“Caleb is fetching the ox carts to take what cargo we don’t need to the salt cave.”

“I go to lend a hand,” Paul bowed and hurried away.

“Put your packs in the sickroom, Lightbody. Miz Mac’ll dish out some grub. Might be a while ’fore ya eat again.”

*  *  *

Eli was sitting on the side of the bed eating from a bowl of gruel when Maggie entered the sickroom. A blanket was wrapped about his middle. He was scowling at Bee, who stood as far from him as possible, her back to the wall, her head bowed.

“Mornin’, Eli. Mornin’, Bee.”

Silence.

Maggie looked from Eli’s set, angry features to Bee’s rosy face and quivering lips. She put her hands on her hips and frowned.

“Eli!” she demanded. “Are ya bein’ out of sorts with Bee?”

“Out of sorts?” he echoed as if she had spoken in a language he couldn’t understand. “I’m damn mad!” he blurted. “She won’t give me my britches.”

“Maybe they’re lost.” Maggie giggled.

Eli glared.

“Ma’ll come tell him when he can get up,” Bee said, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Hell an’ high water! When’s she comin’? I ate every damn thing she sent in. I want to get out a here!” Eli set the empty bowl down on the dirt floor. “She’ll bring them quick enough if I walk out of here bare-assed naked.”

Maggie giggled again. “Was only yesterday ya was out of yore head with fever. Are ya still?”

Eli’s glower deepened. “I got to see about my boat. Kruger ran off with some of my cargo and, by God, I’ll get it back. I’m not caving in to that block-headed German.”

“Yo’re too weak, Eli,” Maggie argued.

“Confound it, Maggie! If I sit here I’ll just get weaker. Get my britches. MacMillan’s going to need all the help he can get if that feller Vega turns in here.”

“They won’t be needin’ ya, Eli. Light will know what to do. He’ll help Mr. MacMillan.”

“Light this! Light that! I’m sick a hearing that
Light
can do everything!”

“Well, he can, Eli. And don’t ya say no different or ya’ll get my back up.”

“Maggie,” Eli said with forced patience, “I’m telling you, MacMillan will need all the help he can get. The pirate has a
cannon.
”

“Light’s not ’fraid of a cannon.” Maggie insisted. “Ya just wait an’ see.”

Eli threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I suppose he’ll catch the ball in his teeth.”

Maggie’s laughter rang out. “Yo’re bein’ silly.”

“Get my britches!” Eli roared.

Mrs. MacMillan appeared in the doorway.

“You needn’t shout, Mr. Nielson. Here are your clothes, dried and patched, I might add.”

At the calm, cultured voice coming from this tall, dignified woman in Indian dress, Eli’s mouth sagged open. Her black hair, streaked with fine threads of silver, was parted in the center and two long, fat braids hung down past her waist. That she was heavy with child oddly seemed to enhance her beauty. Her face was unlined, her eyes large and an usual shade of blue. She’s proud and beautiful, he thought. Crowded in behind that thought was another.
Light’s mother
had been Osage.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am. It’s just that . . . well, I can’t be lying here when . . . I should be helping. I do thank you for tending me.”

“You are welcome. Your fever was short-lived.” She turned to her daughter. “Bee, help Aee fill the water barrels should water be needed. Cee and Dee are penning the chickens. Mr. Lightbody is eating breakfast, Maggie. You should join him. We’ll leave Mr. Nielson to dress.” She made to follow the girls out, then turned back. “You shouldn’t try to wear a boot on that foot. If you don’t have moccasins, I’ll find a pair.”

“I’d be obliged, ma’am.”

Ramon de la Vega steadied himself against the rail and held the spyglass to his eye. The canoe coming downriver was keeping close to the bank in an attempt to avoid the swift flood water and debris washing down from the north. The white man with the slick bald head was paddling furiously as he angled and tacked and sought out minor currents.

De la Vega removed the glass from his eye and sucked in his lower lip. It would take a full day of going against the current for him to reach MacMillan’s. The canoe, however, was hours away from the homestead, considering it was coming downriver with the fast water. The man in it would, perhaps, have useful information.

Slender fingers stroked a dark pointed goatee and the silky hair that surrounded his thin red lips. He had not planned to stop at MacMillan’s. James MacMillan was too crude for his taste; and if he discovered that furs were not the only cargo on the Vega boat, he would, no doubt, report the fact to Daniel Boone, who had considerable influence in the territory.

Vega had been careful, very careful, to do his raiding as far from Natchez as possible. His family had no idea that he was a white slaver, or that the bundles of furs he brought back were not purchased as he claimed.

On his first trip up the Missouri he had been looking for Caleb, a runaway slave. Then he had discovered how easy it was to relieve a lone trapper of his winter’s work. Over the next two years he had perfected his technique of luring the trappers, hungry for human contact, to his boat. Although the pickings were easy, the Indian women had proven to be more profitable. Now he had hopes of picking up a couple of Osage and heading back home. He had two Delaware, a white woman, a Shawnee, and enough opium to keep them docile until he got them back to the Pleasure Place.

The white woman was a slut that one of his men had brought back after a foray into St. Louis. He allowed her on board not only to service the crew, but to wash his clothes and empty his slop jar. She had proved useful in other ways too. She washed up the youngest of the Indian girls for his use because he never went where other men had gone.

The younger Delaware girl he would keep, he mused, unless he found a younger more comely Osage girl. The others he would ship to Spain, including the white woman if she were still alive and not out of her mind by the time they reached Natchez. American Indian women were far more valuable. They had become a novelty in the brothels of Spain.

“Julio!” Vega shouted.

A short shaggy-haired man came from the cabin, tying the cord that held up his duck britches. A foolish smile split his swarthy face, revealing large white protruding teeth with wide gaps between them.

“Have you been banging that slut again?” Vega asked in amusement.

“
Si, señor.
It is a temptation I cannot resist.”

Ramon de la Vega shrugged. Well-serviced men were contented men unless they quarreled over the woman. He had divided the men into two groups. Each group had a day from dawn to dawn with a day of rest in between for the woman. At first there had been some grumbling, but the men soon settled into the routine when they discovered they could use her as many times as they wished on their regular shift. No man dared to break into one of the virgin Indian girls. He knew the penalty. His private parts would be lopped off.

“On your way, Julio. A canoe is coming downriver with a white man in it. I want him. Alive.”

As agile as a monkey, Julio leaped aft to the top of the cabin and shouted an order. Minutes later, with eight men at the oars, the keelboat moved out into the river. The canoe must pass between it and the shore or risk the rapid current.

Within an hour the canoe was tied to the keelboat and Kruger was hauled aboard to face a dark slim man dressed in a shirt of fine lawn with ruffled sleeves and a lace stock. The top of his dark head came to Kruger’s shoulder. In his high boots of superbly worked leather, Vega stepped back a bit so that he could look up into Kruger’s face.

“Who are you?”

“Otto Kruger.”

“German, aren’t you? I’ve not much use for Germans.” Vega pulled a knife from his belt and slapped the blade against the palm of his hand again and again while he stared at Kruger. “Well. Open up, or I’ll open
you
up.”

Until now Kruger had thought Vega nothing more than a fop. Now he revised his opinion. The little dandy was like a coiled viper with bright snake-like eyes that followed Kruger’s every move. He began to sweat.

“V’at you vant to know?”

“You’re dumber than you look if you have to ask.”

Kruger looked around him. The men were all dark and swarthy and armed with knives and cutlasses. They were river pirates; he had known that from the first. He also knew that he was at their mercy. His mind worked frantically for information to offer in exchange for his life.

A woman with blond hair hanging limply around a pock-marked face came to stand in the doorway of the cabin. The neck of her dress was cut so low that her breasts were in danger of spilling out. Her lips were smiling; her eyes were vacant.

“You want her?” Vega’s eyes had followed Kruger’s.

Kruger licked his thick lips. “
Ja.
I ain’t had a voman for a vhile.”

“My men share her. After our . . . visit, you can have her for as long and in as many ways as you want. Get the man a cup of ale, Julio. We have some talking to do before he relieves himself of that load he’s carrying around.”

Ramon de la Vega congratulated himself. Persuasion was better than force when you found a man’s weakness. This big, dumb ox was drooling over the slut. In less than an hour he’d know everything the man knew and some of what he had thought he had forgotten.

*  *  *

Light was impressed with the way MacMillan organized. By noon the homestead appeared, from a distance, to be deserted. Heavy shutters barred the windows and doors of the cabin. The livestock had been moved back into the woods. The middle of the afternoon saw the boats hidden away upstream and Eli’s cargo stored in one of the salt caves. MacMillan pointed out a large willow tree that, when felled, would block the stream to prevent Ramon de la Vega from getting close enough to damage the homestead with his cannon. He and Caleb would do the chopping should it become necessary.

Aee, her braids tucked up under her old hat, built a small fire beneath an oak tree behind the house. The thin smoke would scatter in the branches overhead. She placed a bar of lead in a small iron pot with a pouring spout. When it melted, she would pour it into the bullet mold. Although they had a good supply, there was no way of knowing how long a siege would last.

Calmly and efficiently, Mrs. MacMillan packed food and bedding for herself and the younger children. Bee would go with her to the caves above the homestead and stay until the Osage women arrived, then return to the homestead and take up her rifle. Mrs. MacMillan assured her husband that the babe would not come for a day or two, and he could put his mind on protecting their home.

Light urged Maggie to go with Mrs. MacMillan, but she refused.

“I stay with you, Light.”

“
Chérie,
it would ease my mind a great deal if you went with the lady—”

“Ya say we stay t’gether . . . always.” Maggie’s beautiful eyes never wavered.

“That is so. I said that. But, my pet, it is sure that Kruger has told the pirate there are women here. He has told about Caleb. Vega will attack to get his property back and to capture women for his brothel.” He didn’t put it into words, but he sensed that after hearing about Maggie, the pirate would be hell-bent to get her.