Gold Raven (57 page)

He chuckled, shaking his head,
"And how is my mother? I see she has made you sit still for a few
lessons."

Hope squeezed him again, "Oh I don't mind. Even though,
sometimes I thought I'd go out of my mind from the boredom of it,
Some, I must admit...sparked my interest and I do wish to please
her. She means well."

"Of course she does. She loves you. She is a strong believer in
education; as was your own mother." He smiled, noting her caressing
hand on his belly. "As for me being a poetic god, I fear I have
nothing on the true poets of years gone by. If I come even close, it is
only because you inspire me. Were you among them, in their time,
they would have been even greater."

"Emm, perhaps." She muttered, kissing his back at the shoulder blade, while her palms cupped his strong pecks, her thumbs, softy
strumming his nipples.

"Can you hurry us along here, I want you." She declared boldly
No further words of encouragement were needed. Three hours later, they lay within the wigwam he’d made for their honeymoon. Hope learned the reason her brother had not returned with Red Crow.

"Do not look so sad, Gold Raven. As I said, where he is now, he
is safe. He was not executed because he escaped, healthy and able it
seems."

"How can you be so certain?" She asked, her head on his chest.

Thinking fast, he answered, "Greeneye resembles the white man
and so was able to dress as a bounty hunter, he went in to verify if
they truly held him." Red Crow closed his eyes as he swallowed the
bitter taste of the lie.

Already, just as Greeneye had stated, it was
beginning to take on a life of its own. Feeling his pulse race, he
begged the spirits of his god's to forgive him, realizing that he had gone too far to turn back now.

"Oh...I see." Hope answered thoughtfully; then asked. "You are
sure he's okay?"

"Very, very sure." He kissed her nose, relieved that that statement
was true.

"He has gone to Maria and the children. I know he has, oh Red
Crow, he will be furious when he finds that I am not there with them
waiting. I hate putting him through this anguish, he will go looking
for me, I know he will." She sighed, thinking,
'I'm sorry Mike.'

She leaned up to look into her husband's face. "I must go there. I
have to go and let my brother know that I am alright. Please Red
Crow, do this for me. 'Take me there so that I may relieve him of his
fears for me, please! I could find no peace knowing what I'm putting him through."

Red Crow swallowed the lump in his throat. How could he justify
denying her such a simple plea? What would he say now? He knew
that no one would be there if he did, how would he explain to her his
absence? The absence of them all?
'Take her now! Right now! You know they are no longer there. That would
surely satisfy her for a while.'
He thought
upon reaching there, he could
easily supply the excuse that perhaps he had taken his family and all
were now searching for her; which would be the truth. He would then
coax her back to his village with him, where she would be satisfied for
a while because he had taken her to her brother.

"If that is what it takes to make you happy, then we will go."

"Yes! Oh yes it would! Oh thank you!"

"Can I at least have a day or so to rest and see about matters here?
Then I will take you." He promised. Tears came to Hope's eyes as she
kissed him firmly, so happy. The trust and joyful look in her eyes, made
his stomach clench.
What have I become? What has driven me to such
deceptions?'
The anguish from his lies plagued his conscience, making
him afraid. Suddenly a quote from Sir Walter Scott's novel, Marmion
came to mind. “
Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to
deceive”
Never had such meaning rang so true. Hope gasped as her
husband's arms came around her like strong, crushing bands of steel;
squeezing her so that it hurt. His eyes shut tightly as he returned
her kisses, hungry in his attack, a frantic desperation fueling his
actions.

If only he could force the guilt and deception from plaguing
him, haunting him as he assaulted her mouth. Hope was confused by his sudden aggression. Her lips were swelling and throbbing but she
didn't pull away or stop him. For some reason, there was a torment
riding him. To her shock, he roughly turned her to her back, pulled
her legs up to each side of his waist and entered her with a sharp deep
thrust that made her cry out in pain. He trembled above her as he
held onto her, stroking hard and deep.
"Red Crow!" Hope gasped not understanding. He was hurting
her, his frantic power was more than she could handle. He was
reaching the very neck of her womb, his entire body a taut, hard,
driving muscle.

Then finally came his agonizing cry as if his release
caused him some great pain. Letting her legs fall back to their mat, he
grabbed Hope's head in his hands, kissing her breathlessly, and
implored in a deep voice, raw with panic.

"Love me Hope...I need you to love me! God...I need you to
love me."

Hope ignored the pain he was causing her, wrapping her arms
around him, she held him puzzled by what could have possibly
brought this on in him. "What is wrong with you? Has something
happened?"

"Nooo...just
...
please... promise me... promise me, that you
will never hate me. That you will never leave me, promise me this!"

"Why would you say such a thing? Why would I hate you? Why
would I leave you," She asked, a bit frightened.

"Promise me! Tell me you will never leave me!!! Swear it!
Please...I need you to swear it!"

"Red Crow...I promise I promise, I will never leave you." She
conceded, stunned that he looked as if he would cry at any moment. He rolled off her and pulled her into his arms, holding onto her in a
way that was full possession. The sky was coloring for dusk as the sun
traveled in its descent. Soon Red Crow's slow, even breathing was all
Hope heard as his head lay nestled upon her breasts. His peaceful
sleep such a contradiction from his earlier behavior. It was not long
before Hope followed him in sleep, her slumber not so peaceful,
thoughts of her husband's urgent plea and desperate actions playing
about in her dreams.

C
hapter Twenty-Three

New
York City,
New
York

"Excuse me, Mr. Winston, there's a Mrs. Georgia Mason here to
see you, she says she has an appointment."

"Yes, send her in Evan." Clarence Winston sighed behind his
newspaper. He had finally completely relocated to New York in order
to be closer to his quarry; Princess Ceś alena Huebana. In boredom,
be found himself scanning the elite columns, the upper crust pages.
A s
neer of derision crossed his features upon reading a certain
announcement, bringing the princess back to mind.

"Bastard
, hmph!"
He muttered disdainfully.
'If only Mr. West knew
Maynard Webster as I do; chasing down the whereabouts of his negro, mistress, without a doubt in love with her. Ah yes, see if you would have such a high o
pinion of him then. Especially considering his intent to marry your daughter.'

He imagined the implications of society knowing the truth about him. Of course, Maynard had never confessed as much to him, but
Clarence Winston was no stupid man. It was more than property
value that sent a man out on such a desperate chase to find his
missing slave, and of course the bastards he bred from her. First, as he remembered, it had been about the bastard boy. Then years later, he showed up asking him to include his mistress and another child.

The man lacked proper discretion when seeing to matters
surrounding them; it wasn't that Clarence cared anything about his extra marital
dalliances. It was just that he'd made such a fuss over the wench.
He had found
this
out after he had dug deep, learning some personal bits of information concerning his adversary, for his own reasons of
protection. Of course, this had all been before he had discovered the
significance of
Maynard's
loss, and the "true" identity of his missing
slave.

'What an imbecile, he had had within his hands a gold mine and failed to
deliver her to claim the reward.'

Clarence had to shake his head at that.
'No woman, negro or white is
worth holding onto when such a treasure sits waiting to be obtained.'
Of course,
in all honesty, the fact was, he had not known. Clarence smiled to
himself. Thank goodness, Derek Greyson came to him for aid in
finding the princess, agreeing to his terms in splitting the treasures.
Once all the facts were before him, Clarence dropped his obligations
to Maynard like hot coals. His need to find her, then matched that of
Derek's. He still could not believe that the man had her in his possession, and let
her slip through his fingers due to the bumbling idiots he had hired to
do the job. Now, Derek Greyson needed help, he was willing to share
the fortune because the cost of finding her again was draining him of every coin. Having sold two of his ships, as well as neglecting his
business, had added an additional strain to his already diminishing
finances.
Now the two were working –in a manner- together. Winston made
a pact with Greyson since the depletion of his funds made it
impossible for him to afford Winston's fees. Greed had traveled through Winston's blood strong and sure.

He smiled at the deal
Greyson was forced to make with him. If Winston found the
princess, then Greyson would provide passage at no cost, to her
Island home. Where upon delivering her to her father, they would
collect the treasure; Winston would give Greyson a percentage, sixty-
five / thirty-five.

When his search had begun, he had covered all Negro staffed mansions looking for her. The laundry houses, the cotton houses and
weaving factories; nowhere was she to be found. Dreading the outcome, he scoured the Negro graveyard, praying that no such
female lie within its boundaries. Of course, he had known there were
no guarantees that the information he had gathered could be reliable, but he had been trying to eliminate all possibilities. He had checked all restaurants that hired Negro women, with the same results; all brothels that dealt in Negro women, in all their ranges, from fancies
to octoroons, and nothing. He had checked the hospitals, insane
asylums and Dausenhurst, a women’s corrections work facility...
frustrated because that had been a dead end as well.

His list was growing shorter for places to search. He refused to
face the idea that she may indeed be dead. He sighed and shook his
head thinking,
'That's okay my sweet, sweet princess, you stay hidden
wherever you are, your time to come out of hiding is near, very near
and I shall be the one there when you do. If by some chance this
Maynard Webster happens along, I have something that will take care
of him as well.'

"Excuse me, Mr. Winston."

A voice broke into his thoughts from the door, making him look
up from the paper. He folded it aside, standing as the
heavyset woman, with looks indicating she was in her fifties, made her way
towards his desk. Her hair was salt and pepper, her eyes very light
brown, coming to him with an expectation to fill her need.

"Mrs. Georgia Mason?" He addressed the un-feminine looking lady,
stepping around his desk to her.

"I am, I have an appointment with you, do I not?"

"Yes ma'am, you do. Have a seat please, how may I be of service
to you?"

"I shall get directly to the point. I would like you to find out who killed my twin brother, and why?" She stated in cold firmness.

"Your, brother?" He asked for verification.