Blood Curse (Branded Trilogy Book 2) (8 page)

“To eat and rest. We will leave at dusk.”

She let out a loud sigh, relieved she wouldn’t be going alone and hopeful she’d find her daughter. She watched him, wide shouldered and tall. He reeked of arrogance—of privilege. He challenged everyone around him. She scanned the scorched and smoldering pile that used to be her home and squeezed Tsura’s doll to her chest.

Uncertainty of where her child was tore at her soul. How was she going to stay sane when her insides were a bloody mangled mess of emotions? One minute she wanted to weep, the next lash out at anyone who came near, and she struggled to contain every bit of it. She needed to stay strong—clearheaded. To behave like a crazy person wouldn’t help find Tsura.

Oh, how she missed her daughter. She wanted to hold her and kiss her. To tell her that everything would be okay. She promised to chase the bad men away and keep her safe. She tipped her chin. She’d failed. Her vision blurred, and she dropped to her knees. She clutched the doll to her cheek and inhaled.
I will find you. I promise.

Silas stood over the grave of his newborn daughter. There were three other graves to the left, each marked with a small wooden cross. He reached for Beth’s hand, cold and clammy, only to have her pull it from his grasp and tuck it back within her cloak. He’d known this last time would torture her, be her undoing, but he’d hoped she’d hold on for a little while longer. Wait until he’d killed the girl.

She’d put on a strong face for the others, but this time was different. This time he’d promised the curse was broken, and she believed him. She’d given herself to him, trusting that all would be well, and now she hated him for it.

He gnashed his back teeth together. How had he failed for so long? He’d sought out every well-known marksman within his reach to find the child, and still nothing. He’d resorted to using his slaves, and when met with resistance, he blackmailed them with their family as ransom. Yet, the bloody girl still hadn’t been brought to him dead or alive. The mark was the true-tell sign, and he wasn’t sure his hired guns had seen the brand on the child, instead killing any gypsy girl they found. All had been unsuccessful, and so he’d done them in.

He peered at Beth, thin and frail. She’d not bothered to put on a day dress, instead keeping her nightgown on underneath her coat. The priest said a few words, blessing the infant and her family. He went on to chant in Latin, and Silas couldn’t understand him. All he could think of was the girl and killing her as he’d done her mother.

He had one last hope, one more chance to rid the world of the wicked child. His eyes surveyed the barns, the longhouse where the tobacco dried and the slave’s quarters. On the west side of his land, as far from the slaves as possible, stood the Monroe Mansion. The large two story home with a veranda, twelve bedrooms, massive kitchen, ballroom, lavatory and two libraries. Within the walls, hidden from view, was all the hope he had left.

He inhaled a cold breath that froze his insides and crystalized his heart.

He’d held his daughter this morning before he dressed her in a white gown and laid her in the tiny box. She’d not lived long enough to take even one breath before she died. Blonde hair and blue eyes, she looked different then the last three. This one resembled Beth.

Jude and Ilsa stood on the other side of the small grave. Jude’s arm lay protectively across his wife’s shoulders, and she leaned into him.

Irritation flooded his senses, and his head ticked to the left. Beth couldn’t stand to be near him. She’d pushed him away, cast blame in his direction with every stare, mute answer and dejected stature. She’d given him reason to seek lust elsewhere and not feel guilty about it.

The priest ended the sermon. Beth released a sob and flew into his embrace. Silas bit back the cuss words he wanted to let fly and left the cemetery. Hiram and Jude were soon by his side. A rough squeeze to his shoulder offered in comfort did little to ease the hatred he felt growing within him.

“We will find her,” Jude whispered. “We have to.”

“It has taken too long already. I need to know the girl is dead. I must see it myself.” He stopped and turned toward them. “Send a telegram. Ask if he has located her.”

Jude nodded.

“Tell him with each day that passes we remove one limb, starting with the fingers.”

“Silas, you cannot be serious?” Hiram said.

“I am very serious, Brother. This needs to be finished.”

“There must be another way.”

He stepped into Hiram, his hands around his throat. He wanted to kill the bastard. Watch as the life faded from his ruddy face.

“Your children live while mine have all perished. Do not tell me to find another way when there is only one.”

Hiram stood before Silas, arms to the side, not showing one ounce of fight within his brown eyes.

“I will not fight you, Brother,” he whispered.

“You are no better than our poor excuse for a mother. Soon you will turn to the opium and other aides to get you through the day, too. All because you cannot deal with reality and the life you’ve chosen to live.”

“Do not speak ill words of the woman who bore you.”

“I will speak what I desire. She was a waste of human flesh who could not be bothered to get out of bed for the last fifteen years of her life.”

“You know why, Silas. You know why!”

“I have lost four daughters, and still I run this plantation. I’ve kept things going. I have not fallen to the sin in which she did. I have not given up on my family—on my life.”

“Yet, you seek to kill a child,” Hiram said.

Jude stepped closer.

“A child that you should’ve killed four years ago!”

“You bastard. How dare you put this on me? I will not kill a child. Not the girl or any other.”

“You forget one thing, Brother. You already have.”

Hiram’s lips thinned. He spat onto the ground between them and walked away.

Silas’ chest heaved, and his nostrils flared. He peered past Hiram to see Beth still in the priest’s embrace, and rage boiled within him.

“He is not to be trusted.”

Jude nodded.

“Send the letter.”

Pril sat beside Galius’ cot. The long narrow bed barely held his large frame, and she found herself sitting close so he didn’t fall onto the floor. A thin blanket covered him, and she felt his forehead to check for fever. He was cool, and she brought the blanket up to his chin, tucking it underneath him.

“You are leaving.” Galius’ voice was rough, his eyes still closed.

“I am.”

“Can you not wait until I am well?”

“No, I cannot.”

He shifted on the cot, and she didn’t miss the clenched jaw or pursed lips when he inhaled.

“I need to find her. I cannot wait for another hour to pass. You must understand.”

He knew her better than anyone. She would not wait for him.

He nodded and reached for her hand before he opened his eyes.

“The Renoldis out number you. Sneak into their camp and steal Tsura. That is the only way.”

She nodded. Now was not the time to tell her brother that Milosh had taken his niece.

“Be careful of Pias. He is ruthless and will stop at nothing to have the girl.”

“What does he want with her?”

“I do not know, but Tsura is safer with the Renoldis than the Monroes.”

“I will do as you say, Brother.” She placed her lips on his forehead. “I love you.”

He squeezed her hand.

“Be careful, Sister. Remember all I have taught you.”

She nodded.

She exited the vardo without another word. She’d not glance back; it was a sign of weakness. Galius would sense it and find a way to go with her. He’d been the one who had always fought for her, helped her when she needed it and cared deeply for Tsura. She’d miss him.

Kade waited in the alcove surrounded by bushes behind the vardos. Two ropes wound carelessly around his hands; one tied to her gelding, Athos and the other to the biggest horse she’d ever seen. She didn’t recognize the animal and knew that it must be his.

“Have you packed all that you’ll need?” he asked as she drew near.

“I have.”

She’d slung the brown sack over her shoulder and carried it with ease.

“Then let us get to it shall we?”

She reached out, touching the nose of the brown and white spotted horse.

“Hello my friend,” she whispered to Athos.

The horse whinnied and shook his muzzle.

She smiled, resting her cheek against Athos, and peeked at Kade.

“I’ve never seen such a large animal before.”

He patted the horse’s rear.

“Goliath is a Spanish stallion. I brought him back from one of my trips to Spain.”

Spain? He’d been halfway across the world? She knew nothing of the man who stood before her—the man she placed all her hopes upon. She squinted. She’d question him on his past later. Tsura waited.

“Thank you for preparing Athos.”

She tied her sack to the side of the worn leather saddle and pulled Tsura’s doll out. She wanted to keep it close. The detail within the oiled leather saddle always stopped her. Deep carvings of vines with thorns and roses adorned the sides. The saddle had been her mother’s. It was the only gift she’d passed on to her second daughter. Pril cherished it.

“Have you any news as to where your brother might have taken Tsura?”

She shook her head.

“I’ve told you all I know.”

He sighed.

“It will be a long day.”

“Yes, I assumed. How will you know where to go?”

“I will track them.”

“I wasn’t aware that you knew how to track. I assumed we—”

“You should never assume to know the past of those around you…or their future.”

She didn’t miss his last words and sent him a chilling glare.

“After you, Gypsy.” He bowed.

Pril wanted to kick him in the shins, but settled for a saucy smirk instead and climbed on top of Athos. She straddled the horse, tucking her skirt under her legs. Her long red tresses hung in waves down her back, and she was careful not to sit on them.

“I am in charge. I say when and how long we travel. What time we eat, sleep, and when we come to Milosh’s camp I will determine how we attack.”

Every part of her wanted to lash out at him. She would not take orders from anyone especially someone as bigheaded as him. She sat up straight and stared past him into the Peddler’s camp. No one there would risk their lives to help her, and she couldn’t ask them. She needed Kade. Pril bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
Damn him and his rules. I will decide what is best.

She nodded.

“I have your word?”

“You have it.” She scanned the forest, misery drenching her soul, and she wanted to weep. She squeezed the doll between her hands.

He climbed on top of his horse. The dagger, the body of a lion engraved into the blade, sat within the sheath which hung from the right side of his hip. She wondered if he was accomplished with the weapon, or wore it simply for appearances. She chewed on her bottom lip, said a silent prayer that Kade Walker knew what he was doing, and soon they’d find Tsura.

They’d been riding for hours in the hot sun, and Pril had removed the scarf from around her waist to wrap her long hair within the fabric, tying it on top of her head. Sweat settled at the nape of her neck. She ran her hand along the damp wisps and wiped it away. She reached for her flask and took a long drink. The leather pouch felt light, and she shook it to judge how much water was left inside. It was almost empty.

She scanned the countryside for any hint of a river or lake nearby. A short stop to refill their flasks was needed, and she wanted to wash her face. She blinked, feeling the dirt scratch her lids, and each time she licked her lips, she tasted the soil upon them.

“Have you spotted water?” she asked.

“There is no need to search for it.”

“I have but one drink left within my flask.”

“You should have rationed your supply more carefully.”

She noticed a change in him after they’d stopped in Riverbend for supplies. He was intent that they made good time and hadn’t uttered more than a few sentences to her in four hours. She wanted to find her daughter more than anything, but it seemed Kade did as well, and that made no sense to her. Yes, she agreed to pay him for his help, but he didn’t strike her as the kind of person who rushed for anyone, instead doing things at his own leisure. But a reason pushed him now. She could see it in the creases around his eyes when he frowned and in the set of his jaw. Even more she felt it deep within her soul.

“Why are you pressing?” she asked.

His wide shoulders tensed, and she waited for his reply. Nothing came. Not a long sigh or even a groan…utter silence.

“Are we to travel in complete quiet?”

Silence.

“It is rude not to answer when asked a question.”

“I do not like your questions.”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters a lot.”

He frustrated her, and she felt the sun more so now as her temper rose.

“Very well. Have it your way, mewling toad-spotted scum.” She whispered the last bit.

“I thought gypsy women had a much better vocabulary range than that of toad spotted scum.”

“It is when dealing with the lower class one has to shorten their vocabulary so that they can be understood.”

He snorted followed by a raucous, deep from the belly laugh. His shoulders shook, and he hunched forward.

“What, Mr. Walker, is so amusing?”

“A gypsy has deemed
me
lower class.” He burst into another fit of laughter.

“Bloody lout.” She didn’t know what else to say. He thought her a fool. She wanted nothing more than to pull the arrow from her quiver and aim it at the back of his head. “Finish with this foolishness, and take me to my daughter.”

This sobered him. He straightened in his saddle, cleared his throat and took a left into the forest.

“Why are we going this way?”

“The trail leads this way.”

“What trail?”

“The one we’ve been following since we left your camp.”

“You can see Milosh’s trail?”

“What did you think I was doing, scavenging the countryside for a nice place to picnic?”

“Of course not.”

He shook his head.

She remembered her bow and the thought she had earlier.

“What do you see on the trail?”

“Horse prints. Your brother didn’t bother to hide his trail. Anyone wanting to find him could do so with ease.”

“I’m sure he thought me too daft to watch for the signs.”

“Well, if this keeps up we should be upon them soon.”

“How soon?”

No answer.

Pril flexed her hand. He was vexing, and she needed to remain calm. The desire to unleash her temper would not help in these circumstances, and she couldn’t afford to lose him.

Kade stood on the edge of the cliff and examined the valley below. Smoke from a fire could be seen above the trees. He’d bet it was Pril’s brother and the girl. It had been easier than he thought to track them, but something in his gut told him there was a reason.

He’d hold off until nightfall when Pril was asleep and sneak down the hill to the camp to check things out. He may even abscond with the child and be on his way with no one being the wiser.

“Are we bedding down here for the night?” Pril asked from behind him.

He wasn’t used to the light airy sound of a female’s voice, and it caught him off guard. He shook off the loneliness as it crept into his heart and remembered why he was here.

“Yes.”

It was better not to engage in conversation. The less he knew about Pril and her daughter, the easier it would be to take the child and get what was his.

“Very well.”

She took her bow and arrow from the quiver slung from the saddle and walked toward the line of trees.

“Where are you going?”

“To fetch our dinner.”

She wasn’t like any woman he’d come across in his thirty-six years. However, most of the women he’d known were of ill repute or wanted him for the money they thought he had. None were at all like the petite redheaded gypsy, and he didn’t know why that amused him.

Now was a good time to search through her things. He didn’t trust her and wanted to know what she was hiding.

He rummaged through the brown sack she’d placed against a tall pine. He pulled out a jar of wax, some herbs and a few pieces of clothing. There was nothing else. He placed the contents back inside the bag and propped it up against the tree when she came back. She held a rabbit with an arrow shot through the middle.

“I hope you can skin this,” she said as she tossed the dead hare at his feet.

“I am adept in other fineries than sailing the sea.”

She shrugged and laid her bow next to her sack.

He went about skinning the rabbit while she washed up by the small ravine a few yards away. Once cleaned of all its fur, he used some leather strips he’d had in his saddle to tie the hare’s legs to the long skinny branch and mount it over the fire.

“I am so famished,” she said as she watched him turn the rabbit.

The trees swayed from a light breeze, and he gazed up at the sky, seeing the first few stars shine bright.

“Do you wonder what they mean?” she asked.

“The stars?”

“Yes. I’ve always been fascinated by them.”

“Never thought about it.”

“I have seen them twinkle.”

“Bollocks.”

She nodded.

“It is true. If you gaze at them long enough, they wink at you.”

He’d seen it before, but was enjoying their light banter and went along as if he’d never known.

“I’d say you’re full of it.”

She lay on her back and stared up at the night sky.

“Aboard your ship you’ve not witnessed such glory?”

He was quiet. He’d seen many splendid wonders when the sea was calm, and the sky was black. “I have seen them drop from their place and fall toward us.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Where did they go?”

“I do not know, but it was amazing. A sight I shall never forget.”

“I say not.”

He pulled the rabbit from the fire and laid the stick on the rock beside him. He watched through half closed lids as she sat up and nestled around their dinner. Her slender fingers darted out, pulling the meat from the hare and popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes savoring the flavor, and her innocence had him curious as to where she came from.

Pril pretended to sleep as she watched Kade disappear down the hill from their camp.
What was he up to?
She tossed the blanket from her and followed him.