Riverrun (7 page)

He tensed and braced hi palms against the cabin walls.

“Don’t!” she warned, her eyes feral, her lips drawn back to expose her teeth. Both hands gripped the knife’s bone handle, and its gleaming point aimed directly at his heart. “Don’t,” she repeated softly. “Don’t give me an excuse.”

Chapter Four

T
he sound of rushing water marked the carriage’s crossing; Bobbie, riding post, called to Josh the safest passage.

Cal, his eyes flicking toward the door and back again, judged the short distance between himself and the knife and his expression told Cass that he knew a lunge would more than likely impale him. He was obviously angry and disgusted at his carelessness, but he relaxed in the corner as Cass snapped her hands free and wriggled until she was on the front seat, diagonally across from him.

“And don’t call out, either,” she cautioned when she saw his chest swell with a deep breath. “You and your late friends saw what I can do with a gun. I’m just as good with one of these,” and she waved the knife in front of her. “It comes of your damned army killing off my brothers, and our damned army taking them away to be killed.”

“Such language for a lady,” he clucked, shaking his head. “I thought you Northern women was brought up better’n that.” Then he grinned with arrogant confidence. “Now what, ma’am, are you plannin’ to do now that you got me? You gonna jump out? It’s terrible dark out there, y’know. Josh’ll get himself into a hell of a mad. He’ll find you sure as hell and skin you alive. And I mean that most particularly. He’ll do it as sure as I’m sittin’ here. ’Course, that’s after he—”

“Shut up!” she ordered. She needed time to think, and his mocking prattle was confusing her.

“Oh, ma’am, I wouldn’t want to rile you none,” he said in that leering, insinuating tone. “Wouldn’t want to get you mad, either, now would I? But I do wish you’d come to your senses. You gonna be a schoolteacher? Then you’re definitely smart enough to know you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Nowhere at all.”

The carriage veered sharply as Cass listened, and she was thrown hard to one side before she could steady herself. Cal immediately lunged across the narrow space, grabbing her wrist and pinning it back against the cabin’s front wall. His free hand scrabbled for her throat, while Cass’s hand twisted into claws that raked whatever skin she could find in the scramble. A nail finally caught at the bone beneath his left eye and she yanked down hard as she stared into the maddened frenzy her attempted escape had driven him into. He yowled and snapped back his head, rammed a knee into her thigh. The pain nearly doubled her over and she felt her fingers losing their grip on the knife’s sweat-slippery handle. Desperately, using all the rage she could summon, she kicked, scratched, fought for ways to use her teeth, and they slipped from the bench seat onto the floor that was bucking as though it had a life of its own.

Cal, despite her squirming, landed on top, spittle running from his mouth into the stream of blood that rushed from the gash her nail had drawn below his eye. Though she did not know how it had happened, the knife was now in his left hand, its point wavering only inches from her exposed throat. “Bitch.” He smiled cruelly.

But again the carriage lurched as it jolted up the stream’s opposite bank. Cal was thrown forward slightly and the knife plunged toward her neck. She screamed and twisted her head sharply; the thunk of the blade burying itself into the planking was like a thunderclap in her ear. The man swore, punched her viciously in the stomach to keep her gasping, and wrestled to free the weapon. His face was flushed with anger, his teeth bared, and his laugh was almost a snarl when the knife pulled free and he sat back triumphantly.

There came a noise, then, and Cal blinked. It had been a shot, soon followed by another, and a man’s scream was cut off when his body struck the water. Yet another shot, and an answering one from whoever was still driving, and Cass felt the carriage leap forward onto the road, flying, racing, the cabin more unstable now than it had been in the crossing.

Cal turned his head at the first shot, muttering in angered surprise, and Cass immediately kicked out blindly, freeing her hands and shoving them with a vicious snap against his chest. He fell back against the door, his head striking wood, and she lashed out again with her feet, her heels ramming his shoulders and neck. His eyes widened in disbelief and shock, his hands flailed wildly as the door gave way and he tumbled backward into the night.

Cass lay on her back for a moment, her mouth opened to suck in the suddenly cool air. Then she tried to make her way to the gaping door, her only thought a desperate leap for freedom before anyone knew Cal was gone. Her attempts were futile, however, as the carriage careened wildly, making no effort to avoid obstacles in the road in its flight from pursuit. Once, she made it to her knees, but she was thrown back heavily and her head struck a glancing blow on the edge of the worn seat. Lights flashed in a harsh rainbow pattern in front of her eyes, but she was determined not to let deliverance slip through her fingers. Keeping herself low to avoid the shooting, she crawled to the door and grabbed at the frame. The outside was a blackened blur as she hauled herself up, and she hesitated in jumping, a hesitation that cost her the opportunity as another hole was struck and again she was thrown back. This time, however, she managed to twist around before landing, her arms out to catch herself and absorb the shock of the fall. Her palms scraped along the floor, her elbows locked, and as she brought her knees up to keep from dropping prone, her right arm gave way and the side of her face slammed against the seat. Immediately, she lost control of her left arm and her forehead struck the floor.

Suddenly, then, it was dark, a darkness ablaze with torches that burned her eyes, formed a blinding whirlpool that sucked her down into a sea of night and buried her in oblivion.

She had no notion of how long she had remained unconscious, but she was awakened by a rush of cold that gushed over her, spilling into her mouth and nostrils until she choked. She thrashed about wildly, realized she was still in the carriage, and managed to haul herself up onto the rear-facing seat before the frigid water could trap and drown her. She was drenched, shivering from shock and cold, yet she still had the presence of mind to keep silent until she understood better what her situation was.

She had no way of knowing what had happened to either Josh or Bobbie, nor who had pursued them. The carriage was still upright, and from the continuous flow of water only inches below her, she surmised it had been abandoned or had stalled in the middle of some mountain-fed river. The doors had apparently been flung open by some unknown impact and were now pinned against the vehicle’s sides. The night was silent, however, and she heard no shouts, no firing, no telltale signs of anyone near her. Her lungs filled and emptied slowly until she was positive no one knew she was still in the cabin; then she gingerly grabbed at the door frame and pulled herself forward until she could extend one leg outside to test the depth of the water. For a moment she feared it would be well over her head, and with limbs and head still throbbing from the pummeling she had endured, she did not think she would be able to swim successfully to the nearest shoreline. Cautiously, she lowered her foot into the water. The carriage jerked, shifting with an agonized shriek that caused her to hang on grimly. She waited, edged forward again, and once more the carriage shuddered. She froze, and listened, and heard in the near distance the unmistakable roar of white water.

She closed her eyes and ordered herself not to give way to the panic that added to her chills. Almost defiantly she wiped a hand over her face, brushing back the straggles of hair that clung wetly to her skin, and took a deep, calming breath. The carriage, she thought, had probably been driven blindly across the river, with no regard for safety except in flight, and had most likely jammed itself against some hidden boulder in the riverbed. At least, she realized thankfully, someone had had the presence of mind to free the horses, since she heard nothing of panicked screams or felt any frantic tugging at the traces. But it was clear that to move precipitously would mean losing the stricken carriage with her still lingering within. Whether there were falls nearby no longer mattered; the obviously huge rocks that caused the water to thunder so loudly would do their lethal job well enough.

She moved immediately to the up river side, and again gripping the door frame, eased herself slowly down and out. The carriage shuddered but did not move, and she whispered a brief, thankful prayer. Her suspicions proved correct—a sharp-sided boulder had impaled the carriage at the juncture of shaft and body. Its sleek, washed sides gleamed a dull silver, and the river, as she turned her head, rushed blackly toward her, sparking whitely only where it had been pierced by subsurface obstacles.

She knew that on any other occasion it would have been a breathtakingly beautiful scene; now it was one that only filled her with dread. From the looks of it, there would be no easy wading ashore. She would have to swim.

For the second time since her nightmare had begun, she thought of Aunt Aggie. Several times her father had taken her to Philadelphia, and while there Agatha had insisted Cass be brought to the wide banks of the Delaware, where races were held during the summer for those young men who thought they were strong enough to swim the short but turbulent distance across to Camden. Cass had been fascinated by the feat, and had accepted a dare by her cousin Bret to try it herself. Her father had objected, her aunt had been scandalized, and it was only under the cover of a dark August evening that she and Bret had made the attempt. When it was done, she had succeeded, and the marks she bore for weeks afterward as the result of her father’s subsequent whipping, she displayed proudly to her brothers.

“You’re not a woman, you’re a man,” her aunt had despaired. “Aaron, you must get her away from that horrid farm before it’s too late.”

“And you are a snob,” her father had retorted, still holding the belt in his trembling hand. “The city has made you soft, Aggie. At least Cassandra will know what living is like before you lure her away from me.”

Cass shook her head suddenly, and the vision faded. The force of the river kept her close to the carriage body, and there was a moment’s temptation to yield to its constant pressure, to the comforting coolness that soothed her aching flesh. The water roared and whispered, flowed and waved, and there seemed more silk than danger in its firm caress. She felt her hands relaxing their grip on the frame, her legs drifting inexorably beneath the vehicle, but when a slow grinding rose from the meeting of rock and wood, she snapped herself back and voiced one bitter curse to banish her weakness. Quickly, then, before the hypnotic sensation could return and overcome her, she tore with one hand at the tatters of her dress until she was able to kick it free. Her underskirts were next, and after a struggle, her shoes. Then she worked her way cautiously to the back of the carriage, lifted her eyes once to the stars, and pushed herself, naked, into the darkness.

Immediately, the river took hold of her, spun her clear of her prison and whirled her downstream. After a few seconds’ frantic thrashing, she managed to gain a measure of control over her swimming and began her struggle toward the shore. Her arms soon ached, and her lungs seemed ready to burst from her gasping and the icy water she could not help but swallow. She beat at the powerful current doggedly, a distant part of her mind amazed at the reserve of strength she had been able to call upon when it was needed. The near bank was little more than a looming black wall of trees and shrubs, but she pushed and strained with mindless determination. Several times she encountered great, black shadows of boulders that, had she slammed against them, would have crushed her as easily as a hand crushes a dry leaf. But those she could not avoid through veering, she met head on, drawing her legs up, letting her feet absorb the impact and instantly pushing her off again with little more reaction than a sudden skip of her heartbeat.

She was closer to the shore now, and her feet scraped over the pebbled bottom, but were swept away before she had time to attempt to dig in her heels. Her strength faltered, but her resolve persisted, and she tried several times to reach out for the tree limbs that stretched over the water. Twice she managed to close her fingers, nearly frozen stiff, around a branch, and both times they slid from the slime-covered bark as if it were air.

Then, over the voice of the river, she heard the final, prolonged ripping of violated wood, and when she chanced a frantic look back over her shoulder, she saw the massive cabin of the carriage spinning free of its stone captor like a child’s top. It crunched against another almost immediately afterward, swerved, and bore directly down on her like a silvered black spectre.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she redoubled her efforts and threw herself nearly full out of the water to one side as the carriage charged past her, narrowly missing her feet. It rushed on for several more yards, bobbed and spun maniacally, then struck a boulder of tremendous size and seemed to explode, to disintegrate into planks and splinters, and vanish as though it had never been.

The fearful distraction, however, nearly proved Cass’s undoing. She realized with a shock that she was heading directly for a rock of similar size. Frenziedly she beat at the water, using its own flow to guide her to one side; but she relaxed too soon, her left leg dragged, and it smashed against the stone with a force that ripped a scream from her throat. Instantly, water rushed into her mouth, her eyes glazed, and her head disappeared beneath the surface.

There was nothing in her world but water and pain. Her lungs fairly screamed for the sharp night air. She wanted to give up, to end the pain, but the resolve she had clung to so desperately worked her legs and arms and she struggled back to the surface, thrusting herself into the air, gulping to fill her lungs. A smaller rock glanced off her shoulder, spun her to her back. She twisted back around, blinked water from her eyes and saw directly ahead the skeleton form of a dangling dead branch. There was no time to consider; the white water beyond was louder, heavier, and she knew without seeing that she would soon reach a falls. She stretched, kicking herself waist-high from the river, and with her right hand grabbed and held the thick, gray wood. The current dragged her on, but her grip was firm, and though the branch was pulled with her momentarily, she was almost immediately yanked to a halt.