They call her Dana (10 page)

"My God," he said quietly.

"Is—is somethin' wrong?" I asked nervously.

"I hadn't realized—you were covered with mud, a wretched little creature with an awful, twangy voice—"

"My voice ain 't awful!"

"Isn't," he corrected, "and I was preoccupied when I went

to check on you at the pond, saw nothing but the fear in your eyes. Up until now I haven't had a proper look at you without a mask of mud. I had no idea ..."

He paused, shaking his head, still looking at me with an amazed expression in those deep brown eyes.

"Am I so ugly, then?" I asked.

"You're breathtaking, my child."

"Breathtakin'? What's that mean?"

"It means you're a veritable vision, even in those rags. You may well be the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

"You're joshin' me," I said, "and it ain't polite."

"Isn't."

"Isn't. I ain't beautiful at all, not like—like that flower you painted."

"Far lovelier—and totally unspoiled."

"I still got my cherry, if that's what you mean. I ain't lettin' no man take it till I'm ready."

He shook his head again, amused now. I wasn't sure if he was making fun of me or not, but at least he was no longer looking at me like I had two heads or something.

"What's that tepee thing?" I asked him.

He smiled. "This 'tepee thing' is called an easel. A painter uses it to hold his work in progress."

"Are you a painter?"

"Heavens no, I merely dabble."

"That picmre you done is mighty pretty dabblin'. If you ain't-aren't a painter, what are you?"

"I like to consider myself a botanist, though I fear my friends and relatives consider me merely eccentric."

"What's a botanist?"

"Botany is the study of plant life. A botanist is one who studies them. Tromping through the swamp, taking notes and gathering specimen and painting the flora and fauna is hardly a gentlemanly pursuit, according to my esteemed family."

"What-ja plan to do with all them notes and paintings and things?"

"Eventually I hope to assemble a book. I'd like to do for our plant life what Audubon has done for birds, but I fear that aspiration is quite beyond my humble reach."

"Who's Audubon?" I asked.

"A most distinguished ornithologist," he replied.

*'Oh,"Isaid.

Julian Etienne smiled and strolled over to the fire. It was merely a bed of coals now with a skillet setting on top. The skillet had a lid on it now, and he removed the skillet from the fire and took off the lid to reveal a small mound of scrambled eggs, two slices of buttered toast and several tasty-looking fillets of fish, everything still hot.

'' Hungry?'' he asked.

"Starvin'.''

"You must leam to pronounce the final g, child. You are starving, not star-vin'. Sit down on the blankets. I'll put everything onto a plate. Want some more coffee?"

' 'I—I 'd like some of that funny stuff you gave me last night.''

*'I fear your tolerance of that 'funny stuff deems that most inadvisable, particulariy at this hour. Besides, I drank most of the rest of it myself after you went to sleep. I desperately needed it," he added.

"Oh. Guess I'll have to settle for coffee, then." - "Guess you will."

The food was delicious, the eggs soft, flavored with cheese, the toast of some kind of dark bread, wonderfully crunchy. The fish was tender and flaky, browned with butter, the best fish I'd ever eaten. Julian Etienne might be eccentric, whatever that meant, but he was a wonderful cook, better'n me, even. Imagine being able to produce a meal like this in the middle of the swamp. It was downright amazing.

"So," he said when I had finished eating, "what do you plan to do now?''

"I ain't—I'm not rightly sure," I replied. "I know there's a big town 'bout thirty miles from here—don't know the name of it, but I know it's on a river with a waterfront and lots of buildings."

He nodded. "I'm quite familiar with the place, although I'd hardly call it a 'big town.' "

"I'm gonna get there somehow and—and I guess I'll try to get some kind of job. I can cook real good—not as good as you—and I'm a dandy housekeeper. I can scrub floors and make beds and—there's not much I can't do around a house. Think one of them inns there might hire me?"

"It's possible," he allowed.

"I'll get a job and save all th' money I can, and then I'll go

to New Orleans and—and maybe I can find my ma's folks. I don't even know their name or anything about 'em, but somehow—somehow I'll find 'em, and maybe they'll take me in."

Julian Etienne made no comment. His eyes were grave, and I got the feeling he seriously doubted this would ever come about. If her family kicked Ma out and refused to have anything else to do with her, why would they have anything to do with her bastard eighteen years later? And how would I ever find them in the first place? I realized how improbable it all was, but I couldn't let myself have doubts. I ... I had to have some kind of purpose. I could feel salty tears welling up in my eyes again, and I staunchly held them back. I wasn't going to feel sorry for myself. I wasn't. I was going to be strong and I was going to make it.

"More coffee?" he asked.

I shook my head, handed him my empty cup and got to my feet.

"Thank you for—for all your kindness," I said. "If I hadn't run into you last night, I don't know what I'd have done. I—I guess I'd better be on my way now. I've got a lotta miles to—"

I cut myself short. My face went white. I heard heavy footsteps crashing through the swamp, accompanied by loud voices shouting back and forth. I recognized the voices. I began to tremble violendy, and for a moment I felt I might pass out. My knees shook. I reeled. Julian Etienne took hold of my shoulder with a firm hand, steadying me. I looked at him with desperate eyes, my heart pounding.

"It's—it's—" My voice was a mere croak. "They—"

"Relax, child," he said.

"It's them, and they're gonna—they're gonna—"

"No one's going to do anything to you you don't want them to do," he informed me. "No one is going to hurt you. Stay behind me, do you understand? Stay behind me, and don't say a word."

He calmly fetched his pistol and cocked it. The large, amiable man with those warm brown eyes and that gentle, humorous mouth suddenly changed into a completely different person. He was cool and calm and remote and as hard as granite, looked utterly confident, looked frighteningly intimidating, too. I cowered behind him as the voices and footsteps grew louder, came

nearer, and I gave a loud gasp as Clem came tearing into the clearing, Jake and Randy hot on his heels.

All three of them stopped when they saw Julian Etienne standing there so calmly with the pistol in his hand. Clem looked flushed, a soiled white bandage tied around his head. His boots were covered with mud, and his shirt was torn, one sleeve dangling at the shoulder. Jake and Randy were in little better condition, both of them disheveled and splattered with mud. Jake leered at me, his eyes full of greedy anticipation, and Randy smiled a lazy smile, extremely pleased with himself.

"I told-ja she'd head this way, Pa," he said. "I told-ja we'd find her if we just kept headin' west."

"I'm th' one who tracked 'er," Jake growled. "I'm th' one who spotted that patch-a pink skirt caught on th' branch."

"Shut up, both of you!" Clem thundered.

He looked at Julian and looked at the pistol, and there followed a moment of silence broken only by the distant cry of a bird and the buzzing of insects. I stood behind my protector, peeking around his broad back, my knees still weak and trembly. Clem's blue-black eyes were smoldering with anger, his mouth set in a determined line, but Julian's expression and the sight of the pistol made him cautious. So I didn't kill him, I thought. I wish I had. Oh God, how I wish I had.

"May I help you gentlemen?" Julian inquired.

His voice was cool, polite and absolutely chilling.

"I've come to get my girl. That's her, hidin' behind you. I don't know what she might-a told-ja, but—she run ofl". I intend to take her back home. This ain't none-a your affair, mister. If you know what's good for ya, you'll stay outta this."

"It seems we have a problem," Julian replied.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Apparently I don't know what's good for me."

"Lx)ok, mister—"

Clem took a step forward. Julian leveled his pistol. Clem froze.

"Take one more step," Julian said, "and I'll put a bullet through your heart—quite cheerfully."

"I think he means it. Pa," Randy observed.

"Shut your mouth! Look, mister, I been prowlin' through this swamp for hours, since before daybreak—before that, I was too weak. The girl slammed a skillet 'gainst the side-a my head.

damned near killed me. My boys wanted to get the authorities, call out the bloodhounds, but I told 'em that wouldn't be necessary. No need draggin' other people into family affairs."

"Quite sensible of you. Considering."

"Considerin'?"

"Considering that the girl is legally a minor, was under your legal protection and that you attempted to rape her. I have no idea what the mores of the swamp might be, but I am thoroughly acquainted with the laws of the state of Lx)uisiana. Assault on a female minor by an adult male is a criminal offense. A hanging offense," he added.

"I—I never—"

"The girl gave me a full account of the incident, sir. She was so shaken she could hardly speak. She has bruises on her arms. She told me you had forced yourself on her, that you planned to let your sons use her sexually as well."

"She's a goddamn liar! I—"

"She begged me to help her. I agreed to take her to the authorities and file criminal charges. As you've so conveniently turned up, perhaps you will accompany us. It'll save everyone ever so much trouble."

"He's bluffin', Pa!" Jake cried.

Clem's face had been flushed when he entered the clearing, but as Julian spoke so calmly about assault and the law and criminal charges, the color had slowly drained from my stepfather's face. Randy had plucked a twig from one of the bushes and was idly picking his teeth, his eyes full of sardonic amusement. Jake stood with fists balled, belligerent, spoiling for a fight. Julian was completely unperturbed.

"On the other hand," Julian continued, "I might just go ahead and put a bullet through your heart. That would save everyone even more trouble and is, I understand, a far more pleasant way to die than hanging."

"He's Wufiin', I tell ya!" Jake insisted. "We can take him, Pa! There 're three-a us and only one-a him. You ain't gonna— you ain't gonna back down an' let that little slut get by with what she did! We can rush him. He cain't shoot all three-a us."

"Indeed I can't," Julian agreed. "I'll be content enough merely to shoot your father.''

"He's serious. Pa," Randy said.

*' Utterly,'' Julian drawled.

He lifted the pistol a bit higher, his arm perfectly steady, his index finger curled snugly around the trigger. Clem's face was entirely bleached of color. He took a step back, then another, bumping into Jake. Jake cursed. Randy gripped his arm, pulling him back.

"She ain't worth it, Pa,'' Randy said. "She ain't worth gettin' shot for. We don't need her. Lx)ts-a other tail around. Maybe Jessie'll move in with us. That'd be real cozy."

"You cain't let—" Jake began.

"You open your mouth one more time, boy, and I'm gonna knock th' teeth outta your mouth," Clem said, his eyes never leaving Julian and the pistol. "Your brother's right. Th' gal ain't worth it."

"But-"

Clem whirled and slapped Jake across the face with such vicious force that Jake reeled backward, crashing into the bushes and falling to the ground. Julian sighed, growing impatient. Clem faced him again, trying hard to control his anger and fear. He took a deep breath, his broad chest heaving, and finally he managed to speak.

"You—you still goin' to the authorities?" he asked.

Julian nodded, grim.

"No need—there ain't no need causin' a lotta ruckus," Clem said. "Th' gal ain't hurt. You take her. Yeah, you take her. Do anything you want with her. You got my blessin'."

"Clear out," Julian ordered.

Clem needed no encouragement. He helped Randy pull Jake to his feet, and then the three of them stumbled through the bushes and disappeared from sight. We heard their footsteps retreating noisily, heard a splash as one of them fell into some water. Julian sighed again and finally lowered the pistol. Neither of us spoke until the sound of their retreat died away completely.

"Is—is what you said about the law true?" I asked. "Is what Clem did really a hangin' offense?"

"I've no idea, child. I was merely improvising."

"Would you reallyVe shot him?"

"Unquestionably," he replied.

"You ever shot a man before?"

"I've never even fired the pistol, actually."

"Never? "\ was incredulous.

"I'm much better with words than I am with firearms. I just

ft

Jennifer V^ilde 69

carry this thing around with me in order to emphasize a point now and then. Works admirably," he added.

"You're daft," I told him.

"But I do have a certain aplomb, you must admit. I suggest we pack up and leave now before your charming kin have second thoughts and decide to pay us a return visit. I have a large canoe tied up nearby."

"You—you'll take me to that town on the river?"

"Unless you keep on asking questions in that deplorable whine and I decide to throttle you instead. Hurry now, lass. It's well after noon, and we have a long way to paddle."

Chapter Five

THE LAKE WAS HUGE, surrounded by very tall cypress trees draped with moss. Sunlight reflected on the muddy brown-green water, making shimmery golden patterns on the surface. The canoe was indeed large, with plenty of room for the two of us and all the bags, but Julian handled it with ease, paddling with no apparent eflbrt. I leaned back, resting my shoulders against one of the bags, watching him dip the paddle in and out, from side to side, the soft splash of water making a soothing sound. He really was in very good shape, I thought, quite muscular and surprisingly strong for a man of his advanced years. He had been paddling for over three hours and he didn't even look tired, though his fine white shirt was damp with perspiration.

"I never seen this lake before," I said. "It's mighty big." '*It leads into a smaller lake, and that leads into a narrow river which, in turn, leads into another wider river which takes us out of the swamp and to the waterfront."

"You know an awful lot about these parts." "I've spent an awful lot of time here." "Paintin' watercolors?" *

"And collecting specimen and taking notes." "Seems a mighty peculiar occupation for a grown man," I observed.

"So family and friends constantly remind me." "You do it for a livin'?" "It's an avocation," he explained. "Oh," I said.

He grinned, knowing full well I didn't understand the word. 70

*'It's something I do to occupy my time," he explained. "Fortunately I don't have to make a 'living.' "

"You rich?"

"Solvent," he said. "That means there's enough to keep body and soul together but not enough for inordinate luxuries. There used to be quite a lot of money, but I fear the family fortunes have been considerably reduced."

"I'd like to be rich," I said.

"Indeed?"

"I'd like to have a pair of nice shoes with high heels and two dresses and a—a real silk petticoat."

"That doesn't sound too unreasonable."

"And—and I'd like to have a parasol," I said wistfully. "I know it's silly of me, but—I've always wanted a parasol."

I sighed, lounging against the bag, watching a heron wading at the edge of the lake, its long bill dipping into the water in search offish. Julian dipped the oar into the water, studying me with bemused brown eyes. A lock of chestnut hair had fallen across his brow, giving him a curiously boyish look. He studied me for some time, silent, and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he like what he saw? Did he want to pop my cherry, too, like all the other men? Genteel and kindly he might be, but there was undeniable virility in that large, strong body, in the lines of that handsome face.

"Just how old are you?" I asked suddenly.

He looked surprised, then amused. "I'm forty-one," he told me.

"TTwrold?"

A grin played on his lips, and his brown eyes were full of amusement. "I know it's ancient," he confessed, "but I figure I have a few good years left. How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Goodness! Seems you're getting on, too."

"Most girls my age're already married, already have a couple-a kids hangin' on to 'em. Bessie Barker got married at thirteen— had to, her pa had a shotgun handy—and she's got four kids. Bessie ain't but two or three months older'n I am."

"Gracious," he said.

* 'Are you married?''

"I've managed to avoid that fate so far," he replied, "despite

innumerable lush candidates shoved my way by meddlesome friends and matchmaking relatives."

"If you ain't married, I suppose you've gotta mistress, then?"

"Really, child, you do ask a lot of questions."

"Do you?"

"Have a mistress? On occasion I gready enjoy the company of an attractive and companionable woman, but I do not— ahem—I do not currently have one stashed away in an apartment."

"You're so good-lookin', I imagine a lotta women'd like to marry you, imagine a lot of 'em would like to be your mistress, too."

"A moment ago I was seriously contemplating tossing you overboard," he informed me, "but you have just redeemed yourself. You must learn not to ask so many questions, though, child, and you mustn't be quite so outspoken. Another man might—uh—misinterpret you."

"He'd get a knee in the groin if he did," I promised. "No man's goin' to misinterpret me unless I want him to."

Julian Etienne chuckled, though I failed to see anything to chuckle about. I decided he was probably making fun of me, and I didn't like that one bit. He might be a real swell gent in those fancy clothes and he might be real educated and read a lot of books and things, but that didn't give him the right to make fun of a girl. I might not-a been to school, but I wudn't— wg^az 't dumb, and I gave him a very frosty look and the silent treatment as he continued to paddle across the lake.

The canoe glided smoothly over the water, moving toward a line of cypresses with enormous, exposed gray roots. Was he going to steer us right in to shore? I wondered. No, he moved right through a narrow opening between the roots, and we were moving now down a narrow finger of water leading out of the lake. The land on either side of us was soggy with mud and covered with tall grayish-tan grass. Cattails grew in profusion, and the cypress trees grew very close, gnarled roots projecting into the water. It was dim and shadowy here, very little light penetrating the gloom. I kept an eye peeled for alligators,

"Sure you know where you're going?" I asked nervously.

"Quite sure."

"Looks like we're goin' to run out of water any minute now.

That ground is all muddy, wouldn't hold a person's weight, and— look out, you're gonna run into that tree."

"Trust me," he said.

Gradually the finger of water grew wider, deeper, and the cypresses weren't so thick. Insects buzzed loudly, flying about us in swarms, and birds cried out noisily. Shafts of sunlight began to penetrate the gloom, and soon we were moving across the surface of yet another lake, just as he had promised. Water lihes spangled the water close to shore, pink and pale orange, floating on splayed dark pads. Beginning to grow uncomfortable, I sat up straight, shoving long honey-blond waves back over my shoulders. The sunlight wasn't neaiiy as strong as it had been earlier. It seemed hours and hours since we had left the campsite. Julian patiently dipped the paddle in and out of the water, seemingly tireless. I would have offered to take over, but I had never handled a canoe before, and I felt sure I 'd capsize us immediately.

"How long before we reach that town?'* I asked him.

"Two or three more hours—around sundown. Tired?"

"I ain't complainin'."

' 'What do you plan to do when you reach town?'' he inquired.

"Get a job," I told him.

"Just like that?"

"Like I told you before, I'm a very good worker. I can keep any house as clean as can be, and I'm also a wonderful cook. My greens are the tastiest you ever tasted. I use a bit of vinegar, you see, gives 'em a special flavor, and my combread is—you're laughing at me again."

"Not at you, child. I'm sure your combread is delicious."

"It is. I can bake pies, too. I can feed chickens and milk cows. I can chum butter. I—there's not much I cain't do. Anyone willin' to work hard as I'm willin' to work is bound to get a job. I ain't worried one bit."

"Ah, the optimism of youth. I had forgotten how stirring it can be. And where do you plan to sleep tonight?"

"I—I don't rightly know, but I'm sure something will turn up."

"Likely it will," he said.

The canoe rocked and bobbed on the water, and the soft splashing sound as he paddled was curiously lulling. It was very warm, and I was growing sleepy, my eyelids drooping. He

steered the canoe toward an opening between the mournful cypress trees, and water lilies were all around us now, swaying and swirling as we passed through them. I leaned over and plucked one, pale pink, fragrant, toying with it as we passed through the cypresses. We were soon moving down a narrow river with a current so strong he barely had to paddle. I rested against the bag again, trying to make myself comfortable, and Julian smiled at me as my eyelids grew heavier and I yawned.

It was almost dark when I opened my eyes again. The sky was a misty violet-gray, smeared with pink, and the water was pewter-gray, inky-looking. The cypresses were gone, so was the fetid smell of the swamp. I sat up, stretching my arms, throwing my head back, and the canoe rocked. We were moving down a very wide river, the banks on either side shadowy with trees and shrubs. Up ahead there were many boats, all shapes and sizes, tied up around wooden piers that extended into the water. Beyond them were many buildings, lights in windows making cozy yellow-gold squares against the gathering darkness. The town looked enormous to my eyes. I had never seen so many boats, so many buildings. It was overwhelming.

"We—we're almost there," I said.

"Sure are. You slept like a baby."

"I guess I was kinda tired," I admitted.

Shadows were falling fast as we reached the waterfront, Julian, skillfully steering the canoe around a labyrinth of boats and finally toward a flight of wooden steps that led down from the pier. I could hear voices now, boisterous laughter and the sound of tinkling music, there must be a party going on nearby, I thought as Julian carefully moored the canoe. A husky, gruff-looking man in old clothes and a battered cap came down the steps. He greeted Julian warmly and loudly and looked surprised when he saw me in the canoe.

"Figured you might be pulling in 'bout now," the man said roughly. "See she got you there'n back again. Uh—let me help you with them bags, Monsieur Etienne. I'll carry 'em on to the inn for you."

"Thank you, Hawkins. This is Miss O'Malley. She made the trip back with me."

"Me, I ain't askin' no questions," Hawkins retorted. "It ain't none-a my business."

"Hawkins owns the canoe," Julian told me. "He rents it to me whenever I take a jaunt into the swamp."

Looking extremely embarrassed, Hawkins unloaded all three of the bags and carried them up the steps. Julian helped me out of the canoe, holding my hand firmly as the craft rocked. Hawkins had already disappeared with the bags when we reached the top of the steps. We were standing on a pier made of wide wooden planks with cracks between them, boats rocking on the water on either side. My legs were a bit unsteady after being confined in the canoe for so long, and the pier seemed to sway. The air was laced with the pungent odors of fish and tar and rotting hemp, and the noise was much louder up here, voices shrill and coarse, laughter raucous, rowdy music coming from half a dozen different establishments.

Brave and determined I might be, but I suddenly felt very, very vulnerable, and I felt afraid, too. What if he just left me here? What would I do? Where would I go? I had no money. I had no clothes. I knew not a soul in this huge, bewildering place. I felt confident I would eventually find some kind of work, but what was I going to do tonight? Where was I going to sleep? How was I going to find food? All the spunk and spirit drained out of me, and I could feel my lower lip trembling. Julian Etienne wrapped his fingers around my elbow and gripped it tightly. My knees were shaking.

"Stick close to my side," he ordered. "The waterfront's ftiil of undesirable types, even at this early hour."

"You—you're takin' me to the inn with you?"

"I intend to see that you have a solid meal and a decent place to sleep tonight, of course. Did you think I was going to abandon you?"

"You don't owe me nothin'," I said.

"That's quite true. I do, alas, have a conscience. It causes me ever so much inconvenience. I frequently try to be a cold, heartless cad, but it rarely works. I fear I'm a soft touch."

"What's that?"

"Never you mind. Just stay close to me and keep your eyes down."

We left the pier and passed stacks of barrels and piles of ropes and then moved up a cobbled street lined on either side with brightly lighted establishments full of rowdy people. A din assailed our ears, coarse voices and laughter drowning out the

music of pounding pianos. Burly men in rough attire swaggered along the pavements, looking formidable indeed. Several of them gave me close scrutiny, but Julian's stem expression discouraged any overtures. There were women, too, fascinating creatures with painted faces who wore very colorful gowns and feather boas and leaned provocatively against the walls, calling out friendly greetings to the men, including Julian. He ignored them, holding my elbow so tighdy I winced and marching me along as though I were a felon he had just arrested.

"You don't have to be so rough," I protested.

"I thought I told you to keep your eyes down."

"I cain't help lookin'. It's terribly interestin'. That lady back there was mighty taken with you."

"That was no lady," he retorted.

"I loved her gown. Think I'd look good in bright red like that?"

"Keep moving," he said sternly.

The inn was on a wide, tree-lined street beyond the waterfront. It was a large, rambling place painted bright yellow with white shutters at the windows and tall white columns around the verandah. It was almost completely dark by the time we got there, and light spilled out of the windows onto the verandah with its cozy, plump-cushioned chairs and tall green plants. Julian led me up the steps and into the main room, and I tried hard not to gape.