Bound For Eden (17 page)

‘The girls and I use it. It works most of the time,' Dolly told her.

Alex was still staring, dumbfounded, at the brown package. Her heart was thundering in her ears. Dolly was right, the last thing she needed right now was
more
responsibility. But Alex couldn't help imagining what Luke's baby might look like . . .
her
baby. Her very own flesh and blood. She hadn't had real flesh and blood kin since her parents had died when she was eleven. Ma and Pa Sparrow had kindly taken her in, just as they'd taken Victoria in a couple of years before; Alex loved her foster family, but deep down she longed to look into someone else's face and see herself.

She'd never told anyone, not even Victoria when they lay awake at night and whispered secrets, but her dearest wish was for a family of her own. She pictured herself at a dinner table, surrounded by children, a whole swarm of them chattering and laughing, and opposite her, at the head of the table, would be her husband. Alex didn't know what he looked like, but she knew he would love her and he would take care of her. Her problems would be his problems, and they would face them together.

Alex sighed now, as she looked down at the square of brown paper. She certainly hadn't pictured it this way. Alone. Hunted. Facing an uncertain future.

She couldn't think about it now. She was so tired. Her eyes were still stinging from the smoke, her throat was raw from yelling, and her head ached. Alex tucked the package away and resolved to think about it some other time, when she wasn't so overwrought.

She heard a moan and looked around to see Dolly staring miserably at her own feet. ‘Would you look at that?' The older woman gestured at her ruined satin slippers. One was missing its pretty buckle. ‘Those came all the way from St Louis. I had another pair just like them in red.' She moaned again. ‘Not any more.'

‘What are you going to do?' Alex asked her.

‘Start again, I suppose. It's the only life I know.'

‘You could come with us.'

Dolly hooted. ‘Me? On the frontier? I'd certainly never replace my slippers there! Ah, honey, this place ain't exactly civilised, but it's good enough for me. Besides, there's a fortune to be made here, the way you wagoners keep coming through. Although, where I'm going to find the money to start up another cathouse . . . well, I might have to bring in an investor.' She pulled a face. ‘It don't seem fair to siphon off the profits to some lazy bastard, when I'm the one doing the hard work.'

Alex chewed on her lip. Dolly had been awfully good to her . . . knowing it was foolhardy, she decided to trust the whore. ‘Can you keep a secret?' she asked quietly, inching closer.

Dolly looked at her curiously.

Alex fumbled under her shirt until she found the leather bag. Her fingers trembled as she opened it. At the bottom of the bag the few remaining coins winked at her in the dim light. She ignored them and felt for the tear in the lining. There was the soft rustle of paper. Nervously, Alex eased one of the bills free of the others and withdrew it. ‘I want to thank you for the way you've looked after me,' she whispered, holding the bill out to Dolly.

The whore took it as warily as Alex had taken the brown package earlier. Alex watched as she examined it. Dolly's eyes flew wide and her jaw dropped. There, in Dolly's hand, was a government bond worth one thousand dollars.

‘Where did you get this?'

Alex swallowed hard. What she was about to tell Dolly, she'd never told anyone.

‘Silas tried to starve us,' she said slowly, the memories rising to the surface. ‘He figured eventually I'd give in and marry him. But I never did . . .'

By the time winter thawed and spring was frothing the pantry and the root cellar were just about empty and they'd all grown thin and irritable. Silas took to visiting every other day, always coming just before dinnertime, when they were at their hungriest. He'd slouch his way over the fallen dogwood blossoms and come to rest under the big old hickory tree by the front porch. He'd just stand there, shoulder to the rough bark, and watch the house with a smirk hovering around his mouth.

At first they tried to ignore him. If they were outside they retreated into the house, but none of them could resist peeking through the window.

The day they finished the last jar of preserves Alex couldn't take it any more. She stalked outside, hands on her hips, only wishing she had a gun to brandish at him. ‘Get out of here,' she ordered tersely. ‘You're trespassing.'

‘Now don't be so ornery,' he said, straightening and holding his hands out. He smiled. She thought he was doing his best to be charming. The problem was, Silas Grady didn't have an ounce of natural charm in him. His smile looked like a leer. ‘It's just a neighbourly visit.'

Alex glared at him.

‘Me and my brothers cain't help but notice that you seem to be fallen on hard times, Alex.'

‘It's Miss Barratt to you.'

Silas narrowed his eyes. ‘There's no need to be so prickly,
Miss Barratt.
It's just one neighbour looking out for another.'

Alex snorted.

Silas began approaching, cautiously, the browning blossoms squelching under his boots. ‘I just came to find out what we can do for you.'

‘You can give us back our damn cow, and all those chickens you stole.'

‘I don't think I like what you're insinuating.'

He kept on coming and Alex felt a thrill of fear. Why, oh why didn't she own a gun?

Silas reached the porch steps and paused. One meaty hand rested on the graying wooden rail. Alex flinched when his boot hit the first stair. He noticed and grinned. She had to fight the urge to run. She might be many things, but she hoped a coward wasn't one of them.

She was still standing there, rigid as a tent pole, when he settled in front of her. She tilted her head back to meet his eye. One of his dirty fingers stroked her cheek. She tried not to jump, but she couldn't help it. ‘You've got so thin,' he said softly. ‘One word, Alex. You just need to say one word and it will all be over. Just say yes. I'll make sure you won't go hungry again.'

The finger reached her lips and she batted it away. She didn't bother to disguise her revulsion. ‘I wouldn't marry you if I were on death's door!'

‘What if it were them?' he asked, nodding to the house.

Alex turned and saw Victoria and Adam through the warped glass window of the house.

‘That sister of yours is nothing more'n a bag of bones. You might get through the summer but what about when winter comes? What then? All you need do is say yes. This is a grand piece of land. I'll build you a new house, one with a pump right in the kitchen if you want.'

The minute Alex turned back from the window he crushed her against him and his foul tongue was probing her mouth. Furious, Alex threw her weight against him. Fortunately for her, Silas was balanced precariously on the edge of the top step. In his shock he went tumbling. Alex grabbed for the porch post, so he couldn't take her with him. She heard the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground.

For a moment she felt triumphant. But then she realised he wasn't moving.

‘Oh Lord, you've killed him!' Victoria wailed, bursting from the house. ‘You've killed him! They'll come for us for sure.'

Alex ignored her and flew down the stairs. She nudged Silas with her boot and his head lolled sideways. There, where his head had been, was a jagged rock, now specked with blood. Cold terror flooded her. Glory, she
had
killed him.

‘We'll all be murdered!' Victoria was wailing.

Alex knelt and reached trembling fingers towards Silas's throat. ‘He's not dead,' she said with relief when she found a pulse.

‘It hardly matters,' Victoria howled, growing truly hysterical, ‘look at the blood! Imagine what they'll do to us when he goes home like that!'

‘Hush,' Alex snapped. She couldn't think with all the noise. She chewed on her lip. She should just roll him into the swamp and let him drown. That would solve their problems. One day, he'd just float by and no-one would know who had done it. Who'd suspect the Sparrows, those half-starved children of the poor old pastor? And without Silas, the other Gradys would forget about them. It was only because Silas was so set on Alex that they even bothered to harass them.

But as she looked at the unconscious man, Alex knew she couldn't do it. It would be murder, pure and simple, and she wasn't a murderer. He might be one of the nastiest creatures God put on this earth, but he was still one of God's creatures. Alex sighed and sat back on her heels. ‘Come on, Adam! We'll drag him back to their property, and leave him where they'll find him.'

‘Are you mad?' Victoria was practically pulling her hair out. ‘Go to their property? With their
brother
practically beaten to death? Do you know what they'll do to you if they see you?'

‘They won't see us,' Alex said firmly. ‘And don't be so dramatic. He's hardly beaten to death – it was an accident. It's nothing but a small knock to the head.'

‘What if they come for me while you're gone?'

‘Lock yourself in the root cellar,' Alex said, exasperated.

‘You know I hate the dark!'

‘More than you hate the Gradys?'

Alex and Adam hefted the man, and set off through the thicket of cherry birch and dogwoods, towards the Grady place. Halfway there, Alex was exhausted and had to pause for a rest.

‘He sure is heavy,' Adam observed, also huffing. They were both worn out from hunger.

Alex tensed when they heard voices. She was glad they were screened from the path by the undergrowth. As an extra precaution, she pulled Adam flat to the ground and held her finger to her lips.

‘Where the hell is he anyway?' Bert's voice boomed through the thicket.

‘Where do you think? He's always off sniffing around that Barratt bitch.'

Alex stiffened and reached out to take Adam's arm in a warning grip.

‘She sure is pretty.'

‘That don't mean he has to marry her.'

Their guffaws faded as they headed in the direction of town. Well, at least that was Bert and Travis accounted for. Now there was just Gideon and their witch of a mother to worry about. When she was sure they were gone she pulled Adam to his feet. ‘We'd best hurry.' This time they each took him by an armpit and dragged, letting his boots bounce over the rough ground. By the time they reached the Grady house they were hot and breathless.

‘We'll leave him by the well,' Alex rasped. ‘They're bound to find him there.'

The Grady house was a dump. Alex didn't know how they survived – their vegetable patch was overgrown with weeds and their chicken coop was broken; the hens just ran wild in the garden, vulnerable to predators, laying their eggs willy-nilly. Alex had never seen any of the Grady boys do a lick of work. They seemed to thrive nevertheless.

After they dropped Silas by the old well, Adam dashed back to the cover of the woods, but Alex paused. There, just out of arm's reach, was a fat orange hen. It tilted its head, looked at her with one beady eye and clucked. Alex felt her mouth water.

She looked cautiously at the house. It was silent. There wasn't even a thread of smoke coming from the chimney. Her grumbling stomach decided her. She inched towards the chicken. It gave another cluck. ‘There, there,' Alex soothed, ‘come to Alex now.' She took another step and the hen shifted nervously to the side. Taking a deep breath, Alex lunged.

With a squawk, the bird went skittering across the weedy yard, wings flapping furiously and feathers flying. Alex was too hungry to think. She tore after it, even though it was heading towards the house. She could just about taste roast chicken. She chased it around the side of the house, tripping over the thick vines and weeds. With a scream, she fell through the half-open door of the root cellar and tumbled down the stairs.

She lay on the cold hardpacked dirt floor, breathing heavily. Had she broken something?

She heard a whimper and her blood froze.

She scanned the room as she scrambled to her feet, but her eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the darkness after the late afternoon sunshine outside, and all she could see were silhouettes.

She heard the whimper again.

‘Who's there?' Alex started backing up the stairs. She should never have chased that damn chicken. At that moment, as she gave up on the idea of roast chicken for dinner, she should have run, but the whimpering kept her rooted to the spot.

As her vision adjusted she saw the gleam of eyes in the far corner of the room.

‘Who's there?' she repeated, hearing a tremulous note creep into her voice.

‘Please, Miss,' a terrified voice moaned from the dim corner. ‘Oh, please help us.'

That sure wasn't Gideon's voice. It was deeper. And Alex couldn't imagine Gideon would ever sound so scared. Fear wasn't an emotion Gideon Grady felt – it was an emotion he caused.