Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) (24 page)

"They have not yet found their bodies, but it is doubtful that they could have survived. Most of the second
floor was gutted. If they were alive, they would have come
forward by now."

Liberty ran quickly from the room and into the garden.
She leaned her head against a magnolia tree and closed her eyes against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She prayed with all her heart that the lovely Gabrielle, who had been so kind to her, had somehow escaped the fire, and she found it hard to believe that Monsieur
Gustave could be killed by anything so insignificant as a
fire. He had been too alive—too vital.

"Oh, Judah," she cried out. "How ill you have been
treated since coming to Bend of the River. I cannot bear
the pain you will feel when you learn about your mother
and grandfather!"

11

Judah leaned his head against the cypress headboard and glanced about the small bedroom. The floor was
polished, and the yellow and gray rug added color to the
otherwise drab appearance of the room. Now that his
wound was healing and the weakness that had sapped his
strength was passing, he had begun to question many
things. Had he only dreamed that Bandera had come to
him? Had he taken her to him, or had it all been just
hallucination brought on by his high fever?

One thing was certain, he had to get out of this bed
and make his way back to Bend of the River Plantation.
He wanted to confront Sebastian. His cousin had much to answer for. Judah realized Sebastian had tried to discredit
him in the hope of turning his grandfather away from him. If only Sebastian had known that he did not want
any part of Bend of the River, Sebastian could have saved
himself a lot of trouble.

Judah heard movement outside the bedroom door, and
he guessed it would be the old black woman who had
been administering to his needs. Who in the hell was she?
he wondered. And what was he doing in her cabin? So
many things were foggy in his mind. Somewhere in the
back of his head, he seemed to remember Liberty's voice,
soothing and encouraging. But how could that be?

In irritation, he unwound the white bandage that had been wrapped around his head, and tossed it aside.
Slowly, he began to ease himself toward the edge of the bed. He had to get going, for he had no way of knowing
how long he had been ill. Surely the
Winged Victory
had
anchored at New Orleans by now. Judah wanted only to collect his mother and get out of this place where mystery
and intrigue seemed a part of everyday life.

But before his feet touched the floor, his head started
to swim and he fell back against the pillows. He swore
under his breath, realizing he was still too weak to get up.
For a long moment he stared at the ceiling, trying to stop
the room from spinning. Suddenly, the door was pushed
open, and he watched the old black woman enter, carry
ing a tray of food.

Zippora stood over her patient, noting how pale he looked.
"M'sieu,
it is not wise to try to get up until you have had something to eat," she cautioned.

Despite his dizziness, Judah managed to rise to a sitting position. "Who are you?" he asked, looking at the woman
suspiciously. "If you are working with Sebastian, I warn
you, it will take more than you to keep me confined to this bed."

Crackling laughter rolled off Zippora's lips.
"Mon
dieu,"
she said, with a shake of her head. "I have no more
love for your cousin than you do,
M'sieu.
You are not a
prisoner here. You are free to leave as soon as your health
permits."

"How did I get here?" He was still not convinced of her
good faith.

Humor lines fanned out around her eyes. "I found you
in the swamps, where an alligator was showing a great
deal of interest in you. I should have left you there, but I took pity on you." Zippora balanced the tray in one hand
while she reached into her pocket and withdrew a bullet
and dropped it into Judah's hand. "I kept this for you as
a souvenir after I took it out of your chest. You had been
shot in the arm as well, but the bullet passed through without harm."

Judah stared at the offending object. "It seems I owe you an apology. You probably saved my life."

"Most probably I did, but I had help," Zippora admitted, placing the tray across Judah's lap. "Eat as much as you can so your strength will return."

"Liberty was here, wasn't she?" he asked, eying the thin
broth and crusty bread with distaste.

Zippora's eyes veiled. "Yes, she was here,
M'sieu."

"How about her sister? Was Bandera here?"

Zippora's eyes snapped. "That one would not be wel
come in my house."

"I must have dreamed—" He broke off, knowing he could not tell the old woman about the strange dream that had haunted him. He dipped the spoon into the
broth and raised it to his lips. The taste was not at all
unpleasant.

"After you have eaten, we must talk, Judah Slaughter.
There are some bad things that have happened, and it falls to me to tell you about them."

"I know that Sebastian has told lies about me, but that does not bother me overmuch. Bandera will tell the truth,
if she hasn't already."

Zippora seated herself in a cane-bottomed chair and
fixed her dark gaze on the handsome young man. "Ban
dera has done no such thing. You are in far more trouble
than you realize." Zippora lowered her eyes. "And . . . there is much sadness that I must tell you of."

Judah shoved the tray aside and stared at the old woman. "Has something happened to my grandfather?"

Zippora met his eyes. "Yes. There was a fire at Bend of
the River. Most of the second floor was destroyed. Your
mother and grandfather are missing."

Judah felt his heart stop beating. "What do you mean they are missing?"

Zippora could see the agony in Judah's eyes. "Their
bodies have not been found. It is believed they perished in
the fire."

Trying not to believe what he was hearing, Judah shook
his head. "If they were dead there would be . . . bodies."

"I do not know of such things. I can only tell you what
is being said."

Judah moved off the mattress and grabbed the bedpost
for support. "I have to see for myself. My mother could not be . . . dead. If she were, I would know it."

Zippora grabbed his arm as his knees buckled under
him. She helped him back to bed and removed the tray,
tucking the covers about him. "You are not going any
where until you have fully recovered,
M'sieu.
You haven't
the strength to take me on—how could you face the trouble that awaits you at Bend of the River?"

Judah's thoughts were of his sweet, gentle mother. No,
God would not take her away from him. There had to be
another explanation—there had to be! "I have to get up. I
must find my mother," he said in desperation. But when he tried to rise again, he fell back in a flash of blinding pain.

Zippora placed her hand on his brow. "Rest and recover, Judah Slaughter. There are worse things that you do not know."

He stared, dry-eyed, at the old woman. "What could be
worse?"

"You are accused, not only of attacking Bandera Bou
dreaux, but of setting fire to the house at Bend of the
River. You are a hunted man. It is believed that you are responsible for the death of your mother and grandfather.
The charge against you ... is now murder!"

Confusion furrowed his brow. "I do not understand. How can anyone believe that I would—"

Zippora held his gaze. "That is not so hard to under
stand. You are a stranger, while Sebastian is well thought
of around here. People will believe anything he tells them,
especially since Bandera will back him up."

Judah stared at the old woman in disbelief. "Bandera
would never . . . no, I will not believe that of her."

"Believe what you will, but know this,
M'sieu,
if you
are found, you will be shot on sight. Sebastian has the
countryside howling for your blood. They are combing
the whole area, searching for you. It is said that your ship has docked in New Orleans, and your crew is not allowed
to come ashore. I am told there are three men guarding the ship at all times."

Judah's head was pounding and his heart felt as if it
had just been delivered a deathblow. Anger and frustra
tion waged a war within him. He didn't know where to go
or where to turn. He was in a hostile land with no friends. His only companion was this old black woman
who he suspected, couldn't care less about what happened
to him.

Zippora's eyes took on a strange yellow glow as she
smiled slightly. When she spoke, it was as if she had read his mind. "You have friends,
M'sieu.
Liberty has believed
in you all along. She will not desert you, nor for her sake
will I."

"Why should you care what happens to me?"

"I do not,
M'sieu.
I care about Liberty, and she cares
about you."

Judah looked into the woman's eyes. "It seems I owe you much, and I do not even know your name."

"You can call me, Zippora. And you owe me nothing. As I told you, what I do, is done out of love for Liberty."

"Yes, Liberty. Where is she?"

"For the last few days she has been forced to stay away,
fearing she is being watched. She did not want to lead anyone to you. I have made plans to get you safely away
as soon as you are stronger."

"Why should I sneak away? I am innocent, and I can prove it."

"A dead man can prove nothing,
M'sieu."

"I will not leave until I have proof that my mother is . . . dead. I will clear my name, and I have to see Bandera."

"When you are strong enough, you can do what you
like. Right now, you couldn't find your way to the door,
much less out of these swamps."

"I have never been good at playing waiting games," he
said weakly.

"Sometimes it is wiser to leave a fight and return at a
later time. You cannot help yourself if you are dead."

Judah closed his eyes, feeling as if the whole world had
just fallen on him. It was too painful to think about his mother. In his mind he could see the face of his grandfa
ther, and he realized he had cared deeply for Gustave
Montesquieu. He felt sick inside. His mind and his body
were in need of mending. He was so weak, it was an effort to even raise his hand. Yet inside he raged. How
could he allow Sebastian to make him cower in a corner.
The man would pay for what he had done!

Judah cursed the weakness that kept him from going to
Bend of the River, facing his cousin, and demanding he
tell the truth. He reached back into the far recesses of his
mind, trying to make some sense out of the situation. He
was exhausted and weak. He was feeling drained emotion
ally, and he sought forgetfulness in sleep.

Zippora tiptoed out of the room and softly closed the door behind her. She had not told Judah Slaughter that he had been abed for over two weeks. The young man
had grief to deal with; later he would deal with his other
problems. Her only concern now lay in keeping him out
of the clutches of his cousin and of the men who were
searching for him.

She smiled slightly. Justice sometimes ground out slowly, and revenge was a bitter pill to swallow. Some
times both were all the sweeter after a long wait. Zippora
knew, it would be a very long time before Judah Slaughter
tasted the triumph of justice and revenge ... if ever.

Bandera waited in the sun-bright garden for Sebastian
to arrive. Tension hung in the air, and she jumped as a
fleeting shadow crossed her face. Seeing it was no more
than a bird, she tried to relax.

Nothing was going as it should. Sebastian still hadn't
explained to her why there had been a fire at Bend of the
River, and there was a hue and cry for Judah's arrest. Surely no one would believe that he had set fire to Bend of the River and had killed his own mother. Anger encased her mind. If Sebastian was responsible for the fire, she would not easily forgive him. She couldn't bear
to think of the valuable treasures that had been ruined in
it—treasures that would one day have belonged to her.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she spun around,
expecting to see Sebastian but instead discovering it was
only Liberty. "Well, little sister, have you taken to skulk
ing in shadows and sneaking up on people?"

"No, Bandera. I leave sneaking around to you and Sebastian. The two of you do it better than anyone I know."