Fevre Dream (32 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Aboard the Steamer
Ozymandias,
Mississippi River,
October 1857

Dawn was breaking when Abner Marsh was led from the captain’s cabin. Morning mists lay heavily on the river, gray wisps that drifted and curled smokily across the water and threaded themselves through the steamer’s rails and colonnades, writhing like living things soon to burn and perish in the light of the morning sun. Damon Julian saw the red blush in the east, and remained in the dimness of his cabin. He pushed Marsh through the door. “Take the captain to his cabin, Billy,” he said. “Keep him safe until dark. You will be so kind as to join us for supper, Captain Marsh?” He smiled. “I knew you would.”

They were waiting just outside. Sour Billy, in a black suit and a checkered vest, was sitting with his chair tilted back against the wall of the texas, cleaning his fingernails with his knife. He stood up when the door opened, and tossed the knife easily in his hand. “Yes, sir, Mister Julian,” he said, his ice-colored eyes fixed on Marsh.

He had two others with him. The night folks who’d helped Billy take Marsh from the
Eli Reynolds
had retreated back to their staterooms to escape the touch of morning, so Billy had called up some of his river scum, it appeared. As Julian shut the cabin door, they moved in. One of them was a portly youth with ragged brown whiskers, a live oak cudgel stuck through his cord belt. The other one was a giant, and the ugliest damn thing Abner Marsh had ever seen. He must have stood near seven foot tall, but he had a tiny little head, squinty eyes, wooden teeth, and no nose at all. Abner Marsh stared.

“Don’t you go looking at Noseless,” Sour Billy said. “It ain’t polite, Cap’n.” Noseless, as if to agree, grabbed Marsh’s arm roughly and twisted it up behind him so hard it hurt. “A gator bit off his nose,” Sour Billy said. “Ain’t his fault. You hold Cap’n Marsh tight now, Noseless. Cap’n Marsh is fond of jumpin’ into the river, and we don’t want none of that.” Billy swaggered over and poked his knife into Marsh’s stomach, just enough so Marsh felt the prick. “You swim better’n I figgered, Cap’n. Must be all this fat, makes it easier to float.” He twisted the knife suddenly and sliced a silver button from Marsh’s jacket. It fell clattering to the deck, and rolled around and around in a circle until Sour Billy stepped on it. “No swimming today, Cap’n. We’re goin’ to bed you down proper. You even get your own cabin. Don’t think you’re goin’ to sneak out neither. Maybe the night folks is all asleep, but Noseless or me will be right outside all day. Come on, now.” Billy flipped his knife in the air lazily, sheathed it, and turned. He led them aft, Noseless propelling Marsh along behind him, the third man bringing up the rear.

They rounded a corner of the texas, and nearly bowled right into Toby Lanyard.

“Toby!”
Marsh exclaimed. He tried to step forward, but Noseless twisted his arm and Marsh grunted in pain and stopped.

Sour Billy Tipton stopped too, staring. “What the hell you doing up here, nigger?” he snapped.

Toby didn’t look at him. He stood there in a frayed brown suit, his hands clasped behind his back, head bowed, scuffing one boot nervously against the deck.

“I said,
what the hell you doing here, nigger
?” Sour Billy said dangerously. “Why ain’t you chained up in the kitchen? You gimme an answer now, or you’re goin’ to be one sorry nigger.”

“Chained!”
Marsh roared.

At that Toby Lanyard finally raised his head, and nodded. “Mister Billy says I is a slave agin, never mind I got no freedom papers. He chains us all up when we ain’t workin’.”

Sour Billy Tipton reached behind him and pulled out his knife. “How’d you get loose?” he demanded.

“I broke his chains, Mister Tipton,” said a voice from above them. They all looked up. On top of the texas, Joshua York stood staring down at them. His white suit shone against the morning sun, and a gray cloak was rippling in the wind. “Now,” said York, “kindly let go of Captain Marsh.”

“It’s daylight out,” the stout young hand said, pointing at the sun with his oak cudgel. He sounded scared.

“You get yourself out of here,” Sour Billy Tipton said to York, his neck craned back awkwardly so he could see the interloper. “You try anything and I’m calling Mister Julian.”

Joshua York smiled. “Really?” he said, glancing at the sun. It was clearly visible now, a burning yellow eye amidst a blaze of red and orange clouds. “Do you imagine he’d come?”

Sour Billy’s tongue flicked nervously across his thin lips. “You don’t scare me none.” He hefted his knife. “It’s day and you’re all alone.”

“No he ain’t,”said Toby Lanyard. Toby’s hands had come out from behind his back. There was a meat cleaver in one of them and a big ragged-edged carving knife in the other. Sour Billy Tipton stared and took a step backward.

Abner Marsh glanced over his shoulder. Noseless was still squinting up at Joshua. His grip had loosened just a little. Marsh saw his chance. With all his strength he threw himself back into the giant, and Noseless stumbled and went down. Abner Marsh landed on top of him, all three hundred pounds, and the giant grunted like a cannonball had just caught him in the gut, and all the breath went out of him, and Marsh wrenched free his arm and rolled. He checked his roll barely in time—a knife sprung up quivering in the deck an inch in front of his face. Marsh swallowed hard, and then smiled. He yanked the blade free and got to his feet.

The man with the cudgel had taken two quick steps forward and thought better of it. Now he stepped back, and Joshua jumped quicker than Marsh could blink, landed behind the man, warded off a wild blow of the live oak club, and all of a sudden the heavy youth was on the deck, out cold. Marsh hadn’t even seen the blow that did it.

“Leave me alone!” Sour Billy said. He was retreating before Toby. He retreated right into Marsh, who grabbed him and spun him around and slammed him up against a door. “Don’t kill me!” Billy squealed. Marsh pressed an arm against his windpipe and leaned into him, pushing the knife up against Billy’s skinny ribs, over the heart. Those ice-colored eyes had gone wide and scared.
“Don’t!”
he choked.

“Why the hell not?”

“Abner!” warned Joshua, and Marsh glanced back just in time to see Noseless come surging to his feet. He made an animal noise and lunged forward, and then Toby moved faster than Marsh ever would have imagined, and the giant stumbled to his knees, choking on his own blood. Toby had made a single slash with that carving knife, and opened his throat for him. Blood came pouring out, and Noseless blinked his squinty little eyes and raised his hands up against his neck, as if to catch it as it fell. Finally he collapsed.

“That was not necessary, Toby,” Joshua York said quietly. “I could have stopped him.”

Gentle Toby Lanyard just frowned, holding his cleaver and the bloody knife. “I ain’t so good as you is, Cap’n York,” he said. He turned to Marsh and Sour Billy. “Cut him open, Cap’n Marsh,” he urged. “I bet you Mister Billy ain’t got no heart in dere.”

“Don’t, Abner. One killing is enough.”

Abner Marsh heard both of them. He shoved the knife forward just enough to prick through Billy’s shirt and start a little trickle of bleeding. “You like that?” Marsh asked. Sweat plastered Billy’s lank hair to his brow. “You like it good enough when you’re holdin’ the knife, don’t you?”

Billy choked on his reply, and Marsh let up the pressure on his skinny neck enough to let him talk.
“Don’t kill me!”
Billy said, his voice gone thin and shrill. “It ain’t my doing, it’s Julian, he makes me do them things. He’ll kill me if I don’t do like he tells me!”

“He kilt ol’ Hairy Mike, an’ Whitey, too,” Toby said, “an’ a mess o’ other folks. One man he burn up in the furnace, you could hear dat poor man screamin’ all over. Tole me I was a slave agin, Cap’n Marsh, and when I shows him my freedom papers he done rip ’em up an’ burn ’em. Cut him up, Cap’n.”

“He’s lyin’! Them are damn nigger lies!”

“Abner,” said Joshua, “let him go. You have his weapon, he’s harmless now. If you kill him like this, you’re no better than he is. He can help us, if anyone challenges us as we’re leaving. We still have to reach the yawl and get away.”

“Yawl,”
said Abner Marsh. “To hell with the yawl. I’m takin’ my steamboat back.” He smiled at Sour Billy. “Billy here can get us in to Julian’s cabin, I reckon.”

Sour Billy swallowed hard. Marsh felt the lump of his Adam’s apple against his skin.

“If you attack Julian, you go alone,” Joshua said. “I will not help you.

Marsh craned his head around and stared at York in astonishment. “After all he done?”

All of a sudden Joshua looked awful weak and tired. “I cannot,” he whispered. “He is too strong, Abner. He is bloodmaster, he rules me. Even to dare this much goes against all the history of my people. He has bonded me to him a dozen times, forcing me to feed him with my blood. Each submission leaves me . . . weaker. More in his thrall. Abner, please understand. I could not do it. He would look at me with those eyes, and before I could take two steps I would be his. As likely as not it would be you I killed, not Julian.”

“Toby and me will do it then,” Marsh said.

“Abner, you would not have a chance. Listen to me. We can escape now. I’ve taken a great risk to save you. Do not throw it away.”

Marsh looked back at helpless Billy and thought on it. Maybe Joshua was right. Besides, his gun was gone now, they didn’t have nothing to hurt Julian with. Knives and meat cleavers sure wouldn’t do it, and Marsh wasn’t anxious to face Julian hand to hand. “We’ll go,” he said at last, “but after I kill this one.”

Sour Billy whimpered. “No,” he said. “Let me go, I’ll help you.” His pox-scarred face was moist. “It’s easy for you, with your damn fancy steamboat and all, I never had no choice, ain’t never had nothing, no family, no money, got to do like I’m told.”

“You ain’t the only one ever growed up poor,” Marsh said. “It ain’t no excuse. You made up your own goddamned mind to be like you are.” His hand was shaking. He wanted to shove the knife in so bad it hurt, but somehow he couldn’t, not like this. “Damn you,” Marsh said grudgingly. He let go of Billy’s throat and stepped backward, and Billy pitched forward to his knees. “Come on, you’re gettin’ us safe to that damn yawl.”

Toby made a sound of disgust, and Sour Billy eyed him warily. “Keep that damn nigger cook away from me! Him and that cleaver, you keep ’em away.”

“On your goddamn feet,” Marsh said. He looked over to Joshua, who was holding a hand against his forehead. “You all right?”

“The sun,” York said wearily. “We have to hurry.”

“Others,” said Marsh. “What about Karl Framm? He still alive?”

Joshua nodded, “Yes, and others, but we can’t free them all. We don’t have the time. This has taken too long as it is.”

Abner Marsh frowned. “Maybe so,” he said, “but I ain’t leaving without Mister Framm. Him and you are the only ones can pilot this steamer. If we take both of you, she’ll be stuck here, until we can come back.”

Joshua nodded. “He’s guarded. Billy, who is with Framm now?”

Sour Billy had struggled to his feet. “Valerie,” he said, and Marsh remembered that pale form and beckoning violet eyes, drawing him down into the darkness.

“Good,” said Joshua. “Hurry.” And then they were moving, Marsh keeping a wary eye on Sour Billy, Toby concealing his weapons within the folds and pockets of his coat. Framm’s cabin was up on the texas, but around on the far side of the boat. The window was curtained and shuttered, the door locked. Joshua shattered the lock with a single short blow of his hard white hand, and pushed it open. Marsh crowded in after him, pushing Sour Billy before him.

Framm was fully clothed, lying face down on the bed, dead to the world. But next to him a pale form sat up and stared at them from wide angry eyes. “
Who
. . . Joshua?” She rose from the bed swiftly. Her nightdress fell in white folds around her. “It’s day. What do you want?”

“Him,” said Joshua.

“It’s
day,
”Valerie insisted. Her eyes lingered on Marsh and Sour Billy. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” said Joshua York, “and Mister Framm is going with us.

Marsh told Toby to keep an eye on Billy, and went over to the bed. Karl Framm didn’t move. Marsh rolled him over. There were wounds on his neck, and dried blood on his shirt and his chin. He moved limply, heavily, and showed no signs of waking. But he was still breathing.

“The thirst was on me,” Valerie said, her voice small, looking from Marsh to York. “After the hunt . . . I had no choice . . . Damon gave him to me.”

“Is he still alive?” Joshua asked.

“Yes,” said Marsh. “We’ll have to carry him, though.” He stood up and gestured. “Toby, Billy, you take him down to the yawl.”

“Joshua,
please,
”Valerie pleaded. Standing there in her nightdress, she looked helpless and afraid. It was hard to see her the way she’d been on the
Eli Reynolds,
or imagine her drinking Framm’s blood. “When Damon finds him gone, he will punish me. Please, don’t.”

Joshua hesitated. “We must take him, Valerie.”

“Take me too, then!” she said. “Please.”

“It is day.”

“If you can risk it, I can. I’m strong. I’m not afraid.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Joshua insisted.

“If you leave me here, Damon will be certain I helped you,” Valerie said. “He’ll punish me. Haven’t I been punished enough? He hates me, Joshua . . . he hates me because I loved
you
. Help me. I don’t want it . . . the thirst. I
don’t
! Please, Joshua, let me come with you!”

Abner Marsh could see her fear, and all of a sudden she no longer seemed like one of them, only like a woman, a human woman begging for help. “Let her come, Joshua.”

“Dress, then,” Joshua York said. “
Hurry.
Wear some of Mister Framm’s clothing. It’s heavier than your own, and will cover more of your skin.”

“Yes,” she said. She slipped off the nightdress to reveal a slender white body, high full breasts, strong legs. From a drawer she got one of Framm’s shirts and buttoned it on. In barely a minute she was dressed; trousers, boots, vest and coat, a slouch hat. All of it was too big for her, but it didn’t seem to hinder her movement.