Natchez Flame (38 page)

It was hard to hate your own sister, especially when she had never really had one. And Priscilla
had
offered to help her, even tried to persuade her to go to Cincinnati.

“Of course he still wants you,” she said. “A man doesn’t follow a woman all the way from Texas unless he’s in love with her. He’s just hurt and angry—and more than a little disappointed.”

Priscilla brushed a tear from her cheek. She hadn’t meant to cry, hadn’t really meant to tell her sister so much, but once she’d gotten started, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Even if he wants me, I don’t know if I can be the kind of woman he needs. I don’t know the first thing about frontier living.”

“Neither do I,” Rose said, “but if I loved a man the way you love Brendan, there isn’t a place I wouldn’t go to be with him.”

There was a time when she would have agreed.

“You told me you went to Texas to marry Stuart and raise a family,” Rose continued, “to make a home for the two of you, no matter what it took. But you met Brendan and discovered that without love, that wasn’t enough.”

Priscilla smiled forlornly. “When I’m with him, I feel like there’s nothing I can’t do.”

Rose left her chair and sat down on the sofa. “You’ve got a chance for happiness, Priscilla—the kind few people ever get. If you don’t take it, you’ll be sorry for the rest of your life.”

“What if he doesn’t want me?”

“You won’t know that for sure until you ask him.”

“What if I go with him and can’t make it? What if I fail?”

“At least you will have tried. That’s all anyone can do.”

Priscilla mulled over her sister’s words. In the hours just before dawn, she had told Rose Conners more about herself than any other person in the world—more even than she had told Brendan. “Jaimie was right,” she said softly. “You do have a heart of gold.”

Rose’s head came up. She looked at Priscilla as if seeing her for the very first time, then she glanced away. “Jaimie said that?”

Priscilla nodded. “If he asks you, will you go with him?”

Rose released a slow breath. “I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sure it would be fair to Jaimie. I’ve done things … the life I’ve led has been pretty seedy at times.”

“Do you think that matters to Jaimie?”

“It should.”

“You worry for Jaimie … I worry for Brendan. How fair would it be if I went with him to Texas and
then let him down? If I can’t be the woman he needs—how fair is that?”

This time Rose didn’t answer.

Neither of them spoke for a very long time. “Why don’t we get some sleep?” Rose finally said. “Tomorrow we’ll need to get word to Evergreen, let them know you’re safe.”

On impulse, Priscilla leaned over and hugged her. “I’m glad I got this chance to know you.”

Rose squeezed her hand. “So am I.”

Together they made their way to the bedchamber to try to get some sleep. Both seemed to know it would be a long time in coming.

Jaimie pounded hard on the door. “Rose! It’s me—let me in!”

Wearing a simple blue cotton dress, Rose hurried to the door and pulled it open. “Jaimie! Come in.” She closed the door behind him.

The late afternoon sun streaked through the open window, throwing a shaft of light on the tall red-haired man’s worried face. One glance at the tension in his features and Priscilla’s chest grew taut.

“What is it, Jaimie? What’s happened?” Having fallen asleep just before dawn, battered and exhausted from Stuart’s harsh treatment, she had slept away most of the day, then bathed, and dressed. Her freshly washed hair, still damp, fanned out around her shoulders.

She clutched Jaimie’s arm. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“It’s Trask. Egan’s got him—he’s planning to kill him.”

Priscilla choked back a sob. “Dear God, no.”

“You should have told me he was here, Priscilla.”

“I wanted to. I just had to be sure I could trust you.”

“How did you find out?” Rose asked.

“I overheard Egan and Mace in the study. I would
have come sooner, but this is the first chance I’ve had to get away.”

“What are we going to do?” Priscilla asked, her hands beginning to shake.

Rose released a weary breath. “Before we do anything, you might as well hear the rest of it.”

“What rest?” Jaimie’s gaze swung to her face.

“Egan and Caleb are partners—they have been for years. McLeary’s the man behind the piracy on the river. Egan’s connections in the freighting business gave him access to inside information which one of his men passed on to McLeary.” She gestured to their plush surroundings. “How do you think he pays for all this?”

“You knew about his involvement and yet you stayed with him?” Priscilla asked.

For an instant Rose looked hurt, then she lifted her chin. “I never expected you to understand.”

Jaimie slid an arm around her waist. “It’s all right, honey. None of that matters now. What matters is that Egan isn’t the man I thought he was—” He glanced to Priscilla. “—the man any of us thought he was. He’s got to be stopped.”

Priscilla’s mind flashed with understanding. “Brendan must have found out before he came here. He said he had made a deal with the Texas Rangers. He said he’d come to Natchez to help stop the smuggling on the river. They must have known Stuart was involved.”

“Somebody probably recognized Trask and tipped Egan off,” Jaimie said.

“Dear God … we’ve got to find a way to help him.”

“I know it’s happening tonight,” Jaimie said, “but I don’t know exactly when or where.”

“Ten miles north of town,” Rose said flatly. “There’s a sandbar building up—they plan to scuttle the
St. Louis.
I overheard Caleb talking to Jake Dobbs about it.”

“The
St. Louis,”
Jaimie repeated, incredulous. “My God, that’s one of the biggest steamboats on the Mississippi.”

“Nothing’s too much for McLeary,” Rose said with a trace of bitterness. “He thinks he’s the king of the river.”

“Yeah, well, His Highness is about to get dethroned.” Jaimie turned to the door. “It’ll be dark soon—I’ve got to hurry. I’m going after the sheriff. It’ll take him some time to gather enough men.”

“Chris Bannerman will help,” Priscilla told him. “I know you can count on him. Just tell Chris they’ve got Brendan and that you’ve spoken to me.”

Jaimie nodded. “If that’s the case, I’ll go there first. I might need someone who will back up my story.”

Rose caught his arm. “Be careful, Jaimie.”

He bent down and kissed her, not gently, but hard. Rose slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

“I’ll come back for you,” Jaimie promised. “You just stay right here.” He gave her a last quick kiss and then he was gone.

Priscilla studied her sister, who stared straight ahead, her emotions carefully concealed.

She wished they could talk, as they had before, but this was not the time. “I wish there was something I
could do.” Priscilla started pacing. “But if they’ve taken Brendan out to the river …”

Rose seemed lost in thought. “I don’t think they have,” she finally said.

“What?”

“If someone recognized him, it was probably down at the Keelboat Tavern. Even if they caught him someplace else, that’d be the best place to keep him locked up until they could find a way to …”

“To what?” Priscilla asked, eyes wide.

“You won’t like what I’m going to say.”

“Just say it.”

Rose stiffened her spine. “If they haven’t killed him already, they’ll probably do it tonight—take him out to the sandbar, make it look like he’s one of the raiders. That way there’d be no connection to Egan or McLeary and the Keelboat Tavern. Just another dead body floating downstream.”

Priscilla felt the bile rise up in her throat.
Dear Lord, no!
Then another feeling assailed her—a surge of determination so strong that for a moment it staggered her. “So you think he might still be at the tavern?”

“They won’t chance moving him till dark.”

Priscilla’s resolve strengthened. “I need a weapon. Does McLeary keep a gun here?”

“A gun?” Rose repeated.

“If they’re keeping Brendan at the Keelboat Tavern, I’ve got to get him out of there before it’s too late.”

Rose stared at her in astonishment. Then a slow smile curved her lips. “Maybe you really are my sister.” She crossed the room and went into the chamber
she shared with Caleb. In minutes she came out with a rifle draped over one arm, the barrel pointing downward.

“Brand new eight-shot revolving-breech Colt’s,” Rose proudly announced. “The latest thing in weaponry, according to Caleb. Mr. Timmons, the storekeep, brought it over yesterday, but Caleb had already left. He ordered it months ago—he was madder than a hornet ’cause it hadn’t gotten here sooner.”

Priscilla took the heavy weapon from her sister’s slender hand. “Is it loaded?”

“Yes. Mr. Timmons told me it was loaded and ready to fire, just like Caleb asked.” She threw Priscilla a sidelong glance. “I’ve had a hard life, Priscilla, but in truth, I’m a city girl. I don’t have the slightest idea how to use the damned thing.”

Priscilla fingered the heavy weapon, trying not to think about Charity, about the Indian brave she had killed. “It’s exactly like the one Brendan has. He never showed me, but I watched him several times. You just aim it and pull the trigger. When you want to shoot again, you pull this metal ring and it rotates the cylinder for another shot.”

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Priscilla thought of Brendan, alone and facing death. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Priscilla’s head came up in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”

“Without me, you’d probably never even find him. Besides … we’re sisters, aren’t we?”

Priscilla smiled, feeling something warm touch her heart. “Yes, we are.”

“Caleb’s got a carriage next door at the livery. I can have them hitch up the team, but I don’t know how to drive them.”

Priscilla shot her a glance that said more than words. “I do.”

“So you cheated the hangman after all?” Stuart circled the chair Brendan sat strapped to, his head slumped forward on his chest.

It took all of his will just to raise himself up and meet his enemy’s triumphant gaze. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he rasped, between swollen lips.

He cocked his head to the side, trying to focus through eyes he could barely hold open. One was blacked and puffed, the other ached from the crushing blows he had taken to the side of his face.

“No trouble. We’ll be happy to finish the job.” Stuart motioned with a nod of his head, and Mace Harding’s fist exploded into his stomach. His nose had been bloodied, his ribs ached unbearably from Harding’s ruthless kicks, and blood oozed steadily from the corner of his mouth.

“What were you doing at the Keelboat Tavern?” Stuart asked as Brendan worked to make the walls of the cave stop spinning. It smelled dank and musty, and rats skittered by at his feet.

“Having a drink,” he said. It was the answer he’d given to Harding more than a dozen times already. Egan had just arrived.

“And when you weren’t at the tavern, you were at Evergreen screwing my wife.”

That brought his head up. Brendan felt a tightness in his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? She’s a hot little thing—you’ve taught her well.”

Within his rope cocoon, Brendan’s hands balled into fists. “If you’ve hurt her … if you’ve touched her, I’ll kill you.” He strained against his bonds, tortured at the thought of Egan’s blunt fingers on Priscilla’s slender curves.

Egan just laughed, the sound echoing harshly off the walls of the cavern. “Just imagine, Trask, while you were … occupied … with my friend Mace, I was pounding into Priscilla. She has the loveliest breasts, don’t you think? Just enough to fill a man’s hands. I like the way they point upward—”

Brendan growled low in his throat. He lunged toward Egan, but succeeded only in toppling his chair and landing in the dirt on the cavern floor. Around them, crates of hemp and bales of cotton sat beside casks of whiskey and hogsheads of sugar.

Mace reached down and righted Brendan’s chair, then punched him hard in the ribs.

Brendan hissed with pain.

“I need a drink,” Stuart said, walking toward McLeary’s storeroom, taking the whale-oil lantern with him. “We’ll be back, Trask. In the meantime, just relax and enjoy yourself.”

He could hear their laughter echoing off the walls of the cave.

Priscilla surprised herself by how well she handled the team. Though dusk had fallen, disguising her a
little, she had received several questioning glances as she sat atop the driver’s seat, since it was unusual to see a woman driving alone at that hour. Rose sat tensely in the back.

“If they’ve got him, they’ll have him in the caves behind the tavern.”

“How do we get in?”

“There’s a way through the rear, but I don’t know it. We’ll have to go in through the back of the tavern. There’s an abandoned building next door—what’s left of a building, really more like a shed. We can hide the carriage there.”