When Abe first felt his brother’s fist in his face, he was astonished. He slammed back against the stone wall, the breath nearly leaving him. When he eased himself up, his rage matched Isaac’s. No longer did he think he was fighting his own brother.
“Look out!” Nicole screamed at Isaac as Abe lunged forward. The knife blade sank into Isaac’s thigh, and Abe pulled it up, making a deep, long slash.
Isaac gasped and jerked away from the knife. The cut was too deep to bleed much yet. He grabbed Abe’s wrist, forcing his older brother down. The knife fell to the floor and, like a cat, Isaac grabbed it. Abe’s arm swung out as he tried to take the knife, and he felt it cut into his shoulder.
He jumped back to the safety of the wall by the door, his hand over the cut in his shoulder. Blood was beginning to ooze between his fingers. “You want her for yourself, is that it?” he said through clenched teeth. “You can have her!” He turned quickly and slipped through the open doorway. He slammed the door shut, and Nicole and Isaac could hear the bolt being shot home.
Isaac stumbled toward the door and made one weak effort to throw his weight against it. His leg was beginning to bleed, and he was going into shock.
“Isaac!” Nicole called as she saw his eyes begin to close as he leaned his back against the door. “Cut me loose, and I’ll help you. Isaac!” she called again when he didn’t seem to hear her.
In a blur of pain, Isaac stumbled toward her and lifted his arm toward the ropes binding her hands.
“Cut it, Isaac,” she encouraged when he seemed about to forget where he was and what he needed to do.
He used the last of his strength to saw at the ropes, which were, thankfully, half rotten. When the rope fell away, Isaac collapsed to the dirt floor of the cabin and Nicole fell forward onto her hands and knees. Quickly, she untied her ankles.
Abe’s bloody knife was on the floor. Quickly, she cut away her chemise, tore it into strips, then cut away Isaac’s trousers to expose his wound. It was deep but clean. She bound it tightly to stop the bleeding. Isaac seemed to be in shock, not saying anything, not moving. When she finished with his leg, she gave him a little water to drink, but he wouldn’t take it.
Suddenly, she was so very tired. She sat down, leaned against the stone wall, and pulled Isaac’s head into her lap. The contact seemed to soothe him. She stroked his dark hair away from his forehead, then put her head against the wall. They were locked inside a stout stone cabin. They had no food or other supplies. They were on a desolate island where no one could find them, yet Nicole suddenly felt safer than she had in the last twenty-four hours. She slept.
Chapter 14
THE SIMMONS FARM WAS LOCATED ON A BACKWATER piece of land twelve miles upriver from the Armstrong plantation. It was worthless land, rocky and unfertile. The house was little more than a shack, small, filthy, the roof needing patching. The yard of hard-packed earth was filled with chickens, dogs, a litter of pigs, and several half-dressed children.
Travis tied the sloop to the rotting wharf while Clay jumped ashore and walked toward the house, the other men behind him. The children looked up from their chores to stare with sullen, uncurious eyes. Even as young as they were, they were beaten. They’d lived a life of constant hard work with a father who told them they were doomed to the fires of eternal damnation.
Clay ignored the children as he bellowed, “Elijah Simmons!”
The skinny old man appeared from inside the house. “What d’you want?” he asked, his little eyes sleepy, as if he’d just been awakened. He turned to one of the children, a little girl of no more than four. In her lap was a chicken, and she was wearily plucking the feathers from it. “You, girl!” Elijah said. “You better not leave any pinfeathers on that bird. You do, and I’ll take you to the woodshed.”
Clayton looked with disgust at the old man. He slept while his children labored. “I want to talk to you.”
As the dirty old man began to wake up, his little eyes narrowed to hardly more than slits. “So! The heathen has come to seek his salvation. You’ll need forgiveness for your whoring ways.”
Clay grabbed the man’s shirt front, lifting him so that his feet barely touched the ground. “I don’t need any of your preaching! Do you know where my wife is?”
“Your wife?” the man spat. “Scarlet women are not made into wives. She’s a daughter of Satan and should be taken from the earth.”
Clay’s fist smashed into the man’s long, bony face. He slammed against the doorjamb and slid downward slowly.
“Clay!” Travis said, his hand on his friend’s arm. “You aren’t going to get anything out of him. He’s crazy.” Travis turned to the children. “Where’s your mother?”
The children looked up from the chickens and beans they were working with and shrugged. They were so beaten, so defeated, that not even seeing their father hit interested them.
“I’m here,” said a soft voice from behind the men. Mrs. Simmons was even thinner than her husband. Her eyes were sunken, her cheeks hollow.
“We heard that my wife was seen getting into a boat with your son. She’s been missing for nearly two days now.”
Mrs. Simmons nodded tiredly as if the news was no shock to her. “I ain’t seen her or nobody who’s a stranger.” She put her hand behind her lower back to ease the pain. She looked to be six months pregnant. She didn’t deny the idea that her son could have had something to do with Nicole’s disappearance.
“Where’s Abe?” Wesley asked.
Mrs. Simmons shrugged. Her eyes darted toward her husband, who was regaining consciousness. She looked as if she wanted to escape before he was fully awake. “Abe ain’t been home for days.”
“You don’t know where he went? Does he know?” Clay asked, nodding toward Elijah.
“Abe don’t tell anybody much. He and Isaac took the sloop and went off. Sometimes they’re gone for days.”