Passion's Fury (52 page)

April shook her head wildly from side to side in horror and fear. “No, you wouldn’t put me there…you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I would. We’ll let you stay there with the rats and the spiders, and we’ll feed you just enough to keep you alive so you can enjoy your surroundings.”

She smiled at April with glittering eyes. “After a few days with the dead, dear sister,” she murmured, “you’ll wish you were one of them.”

I already do,
April thought.
Dear Lord, I already do.

Chapter Thirty-Two

April began to fear that she was losing her sanity. She had wept until there were no more tears, only an utter hopelessness that pervaded everything. Her only respite from the living nightmare of the mausoleum was the blessed sleep that became almost constant. It was, she reasoned feebly, her mind’s way of taking her away from her torturous plight.

Twice a day they came, always together. The first visit would be at midmorning, when the sun was high. Vanessa would beat upon the iron mausoleum doors with a large rock, sending metallic reverberations through April’s prison. She would laugh as April struggled to awaken, clamping her hands over her ears.

Then Vanessa would ask if she were ready to tell where the ring was hidden. The answer was always the same. No. She would rather die.

Then Zeke would step forward to taunt her with descriptions of what he was going to do to her if she did not cooperate. But April knew that Vanessa would not allow him to ravish her. She was jealous of Zeke, for reasons April couldn’t begin to understand.

Their second visit always came in midafternoon. Each time, they slipped just enough food through the wrought iron gates to keep her from starving to death. A crust of molded bread, or a half-rotten potato. Sometimes a bit of soured meat or a piece of rotting fruit. There would also be just one swallow of water. No more.

 
“We can keep this up forever, you know,” Vanessa would tell her over and over. “This can go on for years. If you don’t die, you will eventually go insane, just like Poppa. Then I can bring you back to the house and invite all the neighbors in to see that you lost your mind, just like Poppa. There will be no question about my being the rightful heiress. I can say you stole the ring and hid it, and you will be such a babbling lunatic by then that no one will doubt me.”

She would stand outside the gates sometimes for an hour, taunting her. “‘Why don’t you make things easier for yourself, April? You tell me where the ring is, and then I’ll set you free. I will give you clothes and money. Yes, there will be money. I promise to send you away, with a nice share.”

Without much hope, April would reply, “Let me go, and I promise you I will share everything with you. I will forgive everything you ever did to hurt me.”

“Well, I haven’t forgiven
you
and I never will,” Vanessa snarled through the iron bars. “I will have what is rightfully mine.”

When she was not asleep, April would sit close to the gates, wanting the warm sunshine to touch her body, wanting to smell the sweet outer air, for the moldy odor within was overwhelming. What month was it? Too hot for May. The days were getting longer. Was it June? How many days had she been here? How many weeks?

Sometimes she would catch herself talking out loud to herself, or to her dead parents who lay inside those stone covered caskets, and she would become frightened. Maybe she was going insane. But never, she vowed, hands squeezing the iron bars as she stared toward the hazy green forest with yearning, never,
ever,
would she give the ring to Vanessa. Poppa had given it to her. Vanessa had tormented Poppa, probably even hastened his death. This much, she could do for him, and she vowed she would, even if it meant her life.

One morning they did not come at the usual hour, and April felt a deep panic. Perhaps they had decided to leave her there to starve to death. She knelt beside the gate all day long, thin, bony fingers curved tightly about the bars, her eyes burning from straining toward the footpath for the sight of them, ears tuned to the sound of their approach.

Sleep had finally taken her when the sound of Zeke’s derisive voice woke her. “Well, now, I’ll bet you’re good and hungry, ain’t you, precious?”

He knelt before her, grinning down into her face with shining eyes, enjoying her misery. “No, Vanessa ain’t with me. She sent me down here with your food. I got you a nice rotten peach. See?” He held up the yellowed fruit, mottled black, and squeezed it. The juice dribbled down his fingers. “We’ve decided you’re gettin’ too much to eat, so we won’t be coming around but once a day. Maybe before long you’ll feel like talking.”

“Never,” she whispered, as he continued to squeeze the peach in his filthy hands.

Dropping the peach to the ground, he mashed it into the red clay with his foot. “You know,” he said matter-of-factly, drawing a cheroot from his pocket and lighting it, “it’s a real shame to see a beauty like you turn into such a hag. I guess that’s why that jealous sister of yours don’t care if I come down here alone. She knows no man in his right mind would want somethin’ that looks like you. Look at you! Skin and bones. Eyes sunk into your head. Hair matted and full of them crawly white things. And you stink, too. Stink just like them rotten corpses in there.”

He laughed tauntingly, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I can’t believe I ever did want somethin’ like you. But then, you was a real beauty once. I don’t figure you can last more’n a few more days. Then we can take you back up to the house and call in folks and say, ‘hey, look at the crazy! Just like her pappy!’ Then everybody will say, ‘Sure, so now there’s nobody to claim Pinehurst except Vanessa, and it don’t matter none what her daddy told ever’body about disinheriting her, ’cause he was as crazy as his other daughter is now.”

April did not know why she wanted to know, but something made her ask suddenly, “What month is this?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I should tell you that. Vanessa told me not to talk to you none. Just give you that peach and get the hell back to the house. But I don’t reckon it’d do no harm to let you know it’s almost July. Hot, ain’t it? But I reckon it’s plenty cool in there.”

He handed her a cup of water through the bars, waited for her to drink it down quickly and then return it to him. Then he got to his feet and stretched his arms high above his head. “Well, I’m goin’ back up to the house and have me a nice glass of whiskey and a plate of that chicken stew Vanessa cooked for dinner. Then I’m gonna crawl in that big old bed of hers and get me some. You settle down with the spiders and rats and have yourself a nice night now, you hear?”

He winked, laughing long and loud, before turning to walk back up the path, whistling as he went.

April did not move. She was staring at what was left of the peach. Green flies began to buzz noisily about it, settling down to scurry over the remnants. She watched as one ant, then two, found the treat and began to sample the juicy puddle. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and she licked her lips. How sweet the peach would have tasted, even if it was rotten! Then she saw that there were two small pieces that had not quite been pulverized. It would be better than nothing, for she would have to endure the rest of the day, the entire night, and most of the next day before Zeke would return. Even then, he might destroy her food again.

She stretched her thin arm through the bars of the gate, stretching until her torso pressed painfully and she could reach no farther. Trembling now in ravenous eagerness, she saw that her fingertips were but an inch away from the tiny lumps. A little farther…just a bit farther…and she would have them. No matter about the flies or the ants or the dirt. Just one bite was better than nothing. Dizzily, she realized that she could soon become desperate enough to eat the flies and ants.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried with all her might to stretch one more time. She felt something wet. She had touched them! She wriggled her fingers. No. It was not the peach bits. The wetness was higher up than her fingers…higher than her wrist. Something was licking her forearm! She tried to open her eyes but did not want to see the wild animal that was about to bite down into her flesh. A great, choking scream caught in her throat and her whole body froze.

Then she heard it. The whimper, a mixture of sadness and joy.

Her eyes flashed open and she screamed, not in terror, but in delight. It was not a wild animal licking her arm—it was Lucky!

“Oh, God, oh God, oh God!” She cried over and over, reaching to stroke his thick fur, laughing and sobbing all at once. “Lucky! How? How did you find me? Where did you come from?”

She scrambled up on her knees, her joyful heart overcoming the weakness of her body as the dog pushed his muzzle through the bars to lick her face happily. “Lucky, bless you,” she whispered, “Bless you, boy, you found me. But how did you?”

“He loves you,” the husky voice spoke quietly. “And so do I.”

Time stood still. April looked up to see the dear, handsome face…the coal black hair and warm brown eyes…the strong, powerful body she knew so well…

She felt herself slipping away, but he bent down quickly to reach through the bars and cup her face in his hands and command, “April, stay with me, sweetheart! Don’t go out on me now, I’ve got to get you out of here. Goddamn, what have they done to you? You look like a corpse.”

He slapped her cheeks gently. Her eyes flashed open, her gaze on his dear face mirroring all the overwhelming love that was in her heart. “Rance, I thought you were dead,” she choked out the words, barely audible.

His laugh was short and brittle. “So did I. I lost a hell of a lot of blood, and it was quite a while before the doctors thought I’d make it. I tried to catch up with you sooner, but—oh, hell, sweetheart.” He shook his head in dismay. “So much has happened. Right now, I just want to get you out of here. I just turned Lucky loose and bless him, he found you. Now, how—”

He froze at the sound of Lucky’s sudden snarl. The dog’s hair was standing straight up as he prepared to lunge forward. April looked up just in time to see the gun butt come whipping down across Rance’s head. It happened in a flash and, just as quickly, she saw Zeke turning the gun around, about to point at Lucky, and she screamed, “Run, Lucky, run!”

The dog obeyed. The gun fired just as he leaped into the thick brush, running into the woods.

Zeke turned the gun on Rance.

“No!” April shrieked, struggling up on her weak legs to clutch the bars and plead. “No, please don’t kill him. Dear God in heaven, Zeke, don’t kill him.”

Zeke was about to pull the trigger, but suddenly his eyes narrowed. Very quietly, he asked, “Who is he, April? And you better give me some answers.”

The words rushed from her trembling lips. “Rance Taggart.”

“He’s the same bastard that came and took you before, ain’t he?”

She nodded fearfully.

“Thought I recognized him.” A slow smile was spreading across his face. “He must have it bad, traveling this far twice to try to find you. And from the way you’re acting, I’d say this guy means a lot to you.”

“Please, Zeke,” she begged. “Have mercy. He’s hurt—”

“Oh, I’m gonna help him all right. I’m gonna lock him up with you and then I’m gonna go get Vanessa. I’ve got an idea this is just what we’ve been hoping for—something to make you tell us where that blasted ring is hid.”

He fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a key which he inserted in the lock. The gates swung open with a loud, grating sound. April tried to push through to get to Rance, but Zeke roughly shoved her back inside and she fell to her knees. Afraid to rile him, she crouched and watched anxiously as he picked up Rance’s feet and dragged him inside. Then he walked out, slammed the gates, and locked them again.

She cradled Rance’s head in her arms, carefully parting his thick dark hair, matted with blood, to see how seriously he was hurt. She heard Zeke say he was going for Vanessa. “And when we get back, honey, you’re either going to tell us where that damn ring is, or you’re going to watch your lover die. I’ll take great pleasure in blowing his head off.”

April knelt and pressed her lips to Rance’s forehead. It was hopeless. One moment he was there to rescue her and now he was a part of the nightmare.

She cried his name over and over between great, gulping sobs praying to God to help them.

Joy washed through her as she saw his thick lashes fluttering. Then his eyes opened, slowly focusing on her face. He lifted his fingertips to touch her tears and whispered, “I hope I never have to see you cry again, April.”

“He’s gone to get Vanessa,” she told him quickly. “And then they’re coming back.” She explained about the ring, why she was being kept prisoner; finishing in desperation, “They’ll kill us, anyway, when I tell them.”

She was stunned to see that familiar, lazy smile touch his lips. It faded as he pursed his mouth in pain and touched the back of his head.

“They won’t be coming back, honey,” he said, pulling himself up to a sitting position and glancing around. “What a grim place! Your parents are buried here?” He looked at the stone-covered biers.

“What makes you think they aren’t coming back?”

He told her then, that he and Edward Clark and three other men had ridden in together. He had taken Lucky to go and search for her. But Clark and the others stayed by the house. “They’ll take care of those two. Your nightmare is over.”