Christie (26 page)

Christie felt herself becoming weak and faint when
she felt a movement at her shoulder and saw that
Tom was undoing his own breeches.

"Oh, God, this can't be happening to us," she
thought, as she saw the man called Luke lower
himself over Lula's tiny body and thrust his swollen
member between her thighs.

At his entry, Lula screamed, and Christie guessed at the reason, for Luke was a huge brute, more than twice Lula's size, and there must have been pain that had to do with fit, as well as force. At Lula's scream she saw Luke drop his knife and strike her a brutal blow across the face before he settled down to his frantic ride.

Expecting to be on her own back at any moment Christie forced herself to look up at the man who held her captive; and when she did, she felt her stomach lurch at what she saw.

Tom had forgotten all about her for the moment even letting the dagger he had threatened her with go limp in one hand as he stood gaping at the rape going on a few feet from them. She saw his free hand holding his own engorged shaft in its grasp as he manipulated it rhythmically before her, all the while making animal-like whimpers deep in his throat His breathing was loud and labored, his eyes glassy as they stared at the writhing pair on the ground nearby.

Christie felt as if she were about to pass out, when suddenly, as if out of nowhere, two lightning figures seemed to emerge from the darkness and thrust themselves into their midst.

The man, Tom, was large, but the one who now threw himself at him appeared a giant beside him as he knocked him to the ground and in seconds had him on his stomach, his arms held securely behind his back.

Simultaneously Christie saw another man— dressed in what kind of strange garb, she wasn't sure—take a flying leap toward Lula's rapist, who had partly disengaged himself from her as he spied the attack. Lula's rescuer tore him savagely off her still form, dragging him to his feet, and there emanated from his assailant's throat the strangest, most bloodcurdling sound she'd ever heard. Though Luke was a man of mountainous proportions, Christie thought he behaved much like a rag doll in the hands of an angry child as his attacker, though a full head shorter and many pounds lighter, quickly rendered him unconscious with a series of blows to the head with his feet.

But now Christie was being helped to her feet by her own rescuer, who had bound Tom's hands with his belt. As she began to look at the man who towered above her, she felt a heaving action in her stomach and, bending over, retched miserably at his side.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" drawled the deep voice, as her spasms finally ebbed. Christie raised her head slowly and nodded before she looked upward again at the man's face. Then she felt the ground give way, and she fainted.

Voices were talking to her, strange voices—no, not strange—Garrett's voice; but not Garrett's, either— as Christie slowly opened her eyes. The face above her own—she had to be dreaming—looked like
Garrett, but then it didn't look like him either. She shut her eyes briefly and then opened them again. The face was still there, and a pair of the bluest eyes gazed concernedly into hers as the face spoke.

"Don't try to raise your head right away," said the handsome mouth, again reminding her of— She shut her eyes again, tightly. Why was she thinking about Garrett so much right now? "How are you feeling?"

She reopened her eyes and answered weakly, "Better, thank you. Where am I?"

"In a hired carriage, waiting to be taken safely home." He smiled.

"Home? I can't
go
—Lula! Where's Lula? Oh, God, he
raped
her! I saw it! He—"

"Easy, easy, little one. She's right here. My friend's taking good care of her, though she's had a rough time of it."

Christie raised her head from what she found was the seat of a carriage and saw, across from them, for her rescuer was next to her on the seat, Lula, being held gently in the arms of a full-fledged Indian brave! Just then, Lula spoke, the words somewhat slurred by a split and swollen lip.

"Ah'm all right, Christie, girl. What about you? Your baby—they didn't—"

"No, no, Lu! They—they never got a chance to—to harm me. I'm fine, and the baby's going to be fine, too," said Christie, almost involuntarily finding her hand reaching for her abdomen.

"Ma'am, maybe you could tell us where you live and we could see you safely home. You and your companion need some rest, and the boy, too." Her rescuer indicated Jasper whom Christie now noted
for the first time, sitting in the corner of the large interior of the carriage.

"We were fortunate enough to be able to rouse the owner of the livery stable and hire this rig," he said in kindly tones, "but now we must know where to take you, ma'am—"

"My name's Christie, Christie Tre—"

"Christie
Randall,"
interrupted Lula. "Madam Christie Randall."

Christie shot her an annoyed look, but then she caught the stranger grinning broadly at her.

"That
is
a coincidence!
My
name's Randall, too. Jesse Randall, at your service, ma'am, and this is my friend, Laughing Bear;"

Christie's eyes widened to appear even larger than their usual size. "Jesse Randall, of Riverlea?" she questioned in a small, weak voice.

"Yes," he answered, "how do—"

A chuckle was heard from Lula's side of the carriage. "Ain't—
isn't
every day you get rescued by your own unknown brother-in-law, Christie!"

Jesse Randall sat listening quietly as Christie, with some interjections from Lula, poured out the whole long story of how she had come to be Garrett's wife, her reasons for leaving him in New York and how she came to be running from her uncle's home in Charleston. When she came to the details regarding her feelings for his brother and the babe she carried, Jesse watched great, silent tears slide down her cheeks as she spoke, and he took out a handkerchief and began to wipe them gently away as she finished the saga, at last drawing her close to him and letting her sob in earnest on his big shoulder once the tale

was completed.

After some minutes like this, she calmed down and raised her head to look at this gentle man who so resembled her husband, and smiled at him.

"I don't know why I've burdened you with all the tawdry details of my story," she said, "but somehow, Jesse Randall, I—I guess I feel I can trust you, and even though we've just met, I feel I know you already."

"It's only natural." He grinned. "Call it a kinship between the only two people in the world who could possibly love that scoundrel I call brother that you happened to marry. But we'll worry about Garrett later; right now our problem is what to do about you. Where did you think you would go,
once
you got money for the—necklace, was it?"

"Bracelet. I—we weren't sure exactly, but I know I have family in England, on my mother's side, although I've never met them, and Lula found out there's a ship leaving for London in the morning; but beyond that, there were no more definite plans," said Christie, feeling foolish as she heard herself review the sketchiness of her preparations for the future.

"I take it you also weren't aware you might run into Garrett in London?" questioned Jesse.

"Garrett in London? How did he come to be there?"

"Following a lead in the matter of his search. More than that, I don't know. I merely had word from our attorney when I saw him in town here this morning, that Garrett left for London two weeks ago. As for me, I haven't seen him since he left for your father's plantation in June."

"Did—did your attorney mention anything about
our marriage, or about a—a—"

"Divorce? No, he did say Garrett refused to discuss the marriage, which Carlisle—uh, the attorney—had already known of through me, by way of the note my brother sent from New York. But nothing beyond that. Christie, I have a suggestion. Please don't say anything until you've heard me out, though, all right?"

Christie looked at his smile, so much like Garrett's, but lacking any traces of the mockery that was so familiar to that other mouth and face, and she knew she was going to like Jesse Randall very much and, in fact, already did.

"All right." She smiled.

"Come with me to Riverlea. The place is large and comfortable, and you'll be safe there while you decide what you want to do, where you want to go. Lula and her son originally intended to come into our employ anyway, so I'm sure they'll have no objections."

He gestured at the black woman as she slept now, still carefully held by the Indian who so far hadn't uttered a word, and Christie noticed Jasper had fallen asleep, too, leaning his downy black head against the red man's shoulder.

"With Garrett on his way to England, you'll be free of worry about any unwanted encounter with him; it should be a few months before he returns, and to ensure that you have adequate warning when he does—should you be there that long—I'll leave word with Carlisle that I'm to be told, quickly, the moment my brother returns, giving us adequate time to . . . prepare, speed you away, whatever. Garrett always stops at Carlisle's before coming to Riverlea when he's been away. Finally, I have my own, selfish,
reasons for inviting you home. I'm intrigued by you, Christie Randall. No matter what his reasons, my brother married you when I would have sworn no woman on earth could ever had led him to take those vows, and I think I've already caught glimpses of why that happened, of the kind of woman you are to have made such inroads on my brother's life style. And I find I already like the woman I see in front of me right now, like her enough to want to come to know her better—and perhaps, to be her friend. Will you come?"

Christie had been listening to him in a relaxed fashion, so relaxed that right now she wondered how that was possible, considering that just a short while before, she had been assaulted, nearly raped and perhaps murdered. Yet, here she was, talking with this man as if she'd known him all her life. The more she heard from and spoke with Jesse Randall, the more she liked and trusted him, and right now, she felt she would like to know him better, too.

"So you don't think two women and a boy should consider traveling to England by themselves?" she said, smiling up at him with a warm gleam in her eye.

He missed the look at first, and rushed to argue what he hoped would be some sense at her.

"Surely, after what happened tonight, Christie, you can't be thinking of—" He stopped, catching the dimples deepening in her cheeks, the impish twinkle in her turquoise eyes. Shooting her a look of mock consternation, he asked, "You'll come, then?" "Try to stop me." She grinned. Jesse grinned too, and then addressed the Indian he had called Laughing Bear. "My friend, do you think the woman is well enough to be moved safely to our destination?"

"Easily," replied Laughing Bear. "She is a healthy one, and strong, despite her meager size," he added, speaking in perfect, unaccented English.

"You speak English!" exclaimed Christie. "I thought—that is, from the way you were silent for so long—" She broke off, flushing in embarrassment.

"Laughing Bear speaks only when he thinks he has something important to say." Jesse laughed. "Don't feel bad—you aren't the only one he's fooled. The fact is, he's spoken English, and Garrett and I the tongue of his people, since we were all children together."

Then he turned to Laughing Bear again. "I'd feel better if a doctor had a look at her. Doc Barrett lives only a mile or so from here."

"I have examined the woman, and she is well," said the red man meaningfully.

"You—he
examined
her?" questioned Christie, blushing hard as she turned to Jesse. "What—what does he mean?"

"Laughing Bear's mother is the chief midwife of the village," explained Jesse, "and, as the daughter of a medicine man and wife to the chief, a powerful medicine woman in her own right. As her first son, Laughing Bear is entitled to be a party to the rituals and knowledge she works with—her 'medicine'— hence, he knows quite a lot about the human body, even . . . uh . . .female mechanics," he added, looking slightly apologetic, if not slightly amused.

"I see," said Christie quietly. She was beginning to feel, after the rapid succession of events of this night, as if nothing more could happen which would shock
or surprise her, and, suddenly realizing she was very tired, she said, "Well, then, I suppose there's nothing to keep us waiting here. Shall we go?"

"Just as soon as we dispose of our captives," replied Jesse. "It shouldn't take long to get them to the authorities. May I borrow your gray? I'm afraid each of our horses is carrying a prisoner right now."

"Thunder!" said Christie, feeling guilty for having forgotten him all this while. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Take it easy, little one." Jesse smiled. "He's safely tied behind the carriage, along with our horses and their human burdens."

He had called her "little one" again, and once more Christie was reminded of Garrett, for no one else had ever called her that.

"I was wondering what had become of those two pieces of human vermin," she said to Jesse. "What will happen to them? Will—will Lula and I have to be involved in charging them or—"

"Over my dead body," said Jesse. "Don't worry. I'll handle it so you won't even be mentioned. Is there anything I need to know about handling your stallion?" he questioned. "He's one superb piece of horseflesh, and I wouldn't want to inadvertently mishandle him."

"Knowing your background with horses, I seriously doubt that could happen." She laughed. "Just remember he has an extremely soft mouth and requires only the lightest leg pressure."

"Fine," he said, climbing out of the carriage. "Laughing Bear, take the carriage and head out of town the way we came in. I'll catch up with the horses once I've finished with my—refuse deposit.

The supplies you purchased in town—they're tied on top in the baggage racks?"

The Indian nodded as he prepared to follow Jesse out of the door, laying Lula down so carefully on the seat; she never stirred.

Minutes later, they were on their way, and only then did Christie lean her weary head against the side of the carriage's worn interior and sleep.

The first gray streaks of dawn were painting the eastern sky as Christie snapped to wakefulness with the sudden halt of the carriage and the attendant sound of Jesse's voice outside.

"Farewell, my friend, and many thanks. We will meet in a half-moon?"

"In a fortnight, at your house," came the brave's reply. Then he added, "The brown woman, if she has discomfort, you will send word?"

"I'll send word, and I'll spell out exactly what the ache is, so you can send the right herbs," answered Jesse. "Tell Long Arrow I send him greetings!" he called, and Christie heard the sounds of a horse traveling away from them.