The Bargain (10 page)

Mrs. Branddochter folded her arms and shook her head. "We will see." She plodded to the door. "I'll see you in a few hours, Miss Jewell. Stay in here. You're new, and I don't need trouble."

With a slam, the matron left.
 

Precious felt out of place here, until she saw the hurt in Mrs. Scott's voice. She knew what to do with other folk's pain. Moving near, Precious bent and rubbed the woman's palm. "Tell me about him."

Mrs. Scott's hazel eyes were vacant. "He's not dead. He's just gone."

The dark haired girl who'd stood up for Mrs. Scott came near and sat on the small grey blanket that covered the bed. "Millie's lost a lot this year. A husband, now her boy. But welcome for what that's worth."
 

This one was pretty, with long dark hair and eyes that slimmed like slits. She held her head up with dignity. But how could that be, when she sold her body nightly? Maybe you gave so much of yourself away, it didn't matter anymore.

"What is your name?" Precious ask the composed woman.
 

"I'm Cai De. I ran away from a settlement when my mother wanted to marry me off. Maybe I shoulda done it. Couldn't be any worse than this."

A runaway? That happened outside of Charleston, too.

Still clasping her hand, Precious lifted Mrs. Scott's cheek. "Was your husband in the colony's military? Did he serve for Lord Welling?"

The woman nodded then crumpled back on the bed.

There had to be something that could be done for this widow. Precious looked at all these women. There had to be something that could be done for all of them.

The last girl, one with brown hair, came near and circled Precious. With a thick crisp accent, she asked, "You've a name?"
 

"Precious. Precious Jewell."

She sauntered back to her bed. "Precious Jewell sounds hoity. You'll probably be like the other darkie, thinking you're better than the rest. So Captain Welling has come to his senses and threw you out. Now we get another Xhosa to contend with."

"Sahara, the other one, isn't working yet." Cai De put her feet up on the mattress. Her slippers were worn. "And this one seems nice."

The other Xhosa? The answer Precious had come for. "Where's the other one like me?" She put a hand on her hip and hoped the action made her sound worldly, not scared. "And why isn't she working for her keep? I don't like those who can't hold up their end of a bargain."

Sahara started to smile. "Well, if you do your part around here, maybe you won't be so bad."

Precious moved away toward the empty bed. Another woman black like her. Oh, Lord let it be the Xhosa daughter. "Why is the Xhosa not with us?"

Cai De put her hands above her head as if she wore an imaginary crown. "She's a princess."

Sahara forced her hand down like she wanted to slap Cai De. "I'm going to tell Mrs. Branddochter. I'll let her know the new girl's snooping."

 
The horrible girl stomped out of the room.

Precious was desperate. Time was running out. "Where is the Xhosa girl? Is she with an old man?"

Fear clouded Cai De's eyes. "How did you know? That's suppose to be a secret."

Precious' pulse raced as she came closer to the woman. "Tell me where. It's very important I find her."

Millie lifted her head. "I'll tell you if you help find my boy."

"Tell me, Millie. I will help you. I promise, I will help. I will help all of you."

Nodding, as if she understood, Millie sat up and pointed. "Down the hall. Take the stairs to the root cellar. She's there with her father. My boy, he's got red hair. Small for his age."

"Thank you, Mille. I will get help for you." She slipped from the room into the hall. She'd keep her promise. One of the widow's of Gareth's men shouldn't spend her days here.

Precious spied the stairwell and made a dash for it.
 

Heavy footsteps sounded. It had to be Mrs. Branddochter.

 
Before they came into view, Precious bounded down the stairs like a rabbit. It wouldn't take long for the madame to find her missing.
Sometimes God, let this be the answer.

She strengthened her courage and searched the dark corridor. Not seeing the way she felt the damp rock walls, and moved until she saw a hint of light. She followed the light until she came upon a door.
 

Precious held her breath and prayed again that she hadn't risked everything for foolishness. She made her way inside.
 

Warm candlelight surrounded an old man in a bed. His eyes were closed on his black face, his skull wrapped in bandages. A slim lady with tawny brown skin and long straight hair sat by his side.
 

The girl, maybe Precious's age, maybe younger, lifted her face. "What do you want? Mrs. Branddochter knows my father needs his rest."

Emboldened, Precious decided to use some of Gareth's wit. Well, the sharpness he taught her. "I've come on behalf of Lord Welling. Your people must know the chief is alive."
 

"My people?" Her mouth slimmed. "The same who have taken my father's throne? Go away."

Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, Precious had found them. She pranced over and knelt. She was in front of a king after all. "You don't understand. A war is about to take place. The colonists will all die because the Xhosa thinks you and your father are prisoners."

The girl's face changed as her lips pressed into a line, no longer serene but marred with hatred. "Let all the sons of men burn. They led to my father's disgrace. They made him weak. They are the cause of his lost of the nation."

Precious tugged on her shawl. It was cold down here, too cold for a sick man. "I don't care a wit about all that happened before, but I do care about innocent people dying."

The old man's eyes opened. A horrid cough left his throat. "Thembeka, are you here?"

"Yes, Father."

"The land of the shadows are calling."

Tears fell from the girl's eyes. For all her anger, Thembeka was nothing more than a scared girl about to lose her father.
 

"Don't answer. Stay with me, Father. Together, we will get back all you have lost." Thembeka put her face in her hands. "Please leave us."

Precious backed away. She'd give the Xhosa privacy, and go tell Gareth. The war would not happen now.

Heart beating, she made her way back up the stairs and headed for the door. A hand clasped her arm, stopping her.
 

Mrs. Branddochter tightened her fingers around Precious's elbow. "Where are you going?"

"I wanted some air."

"You can have that later. Your first client is here. Go into this room."

Precious panicked. Her pulse raced. "I don't want to do this. I've changed my mind."

She shoved Precious from behind, and almost tossed her into the room. "You just need to get this over with. Then, as one of my girls, we'll see if you can go back to the captain."

The door closed.
 

The click of a lock sounded.
 

Precious beat on the door and twisted the knob. "You let me out of here."

Laughter poured through the door. "Your customer has a key. See what you have to do for him to release you."

Precious pounded on the door until her knuckles stung. So close to saving Port Elizabeth and now she was locked away. The world was going to end here and she couldn't even be with Gareth and Jonas or Clara.

She pounded again. This wasn't that shack in Charleston, but fear still coursed through her. Her heart doubled in speed when humming hit her ears.

The notes made her turn. She forgot that she wasn't alone.

"Why don't you come over he…here?" The man hiccupped again. The madame had locked her in the dim room with a drunk.

She pivoted hoping to reason with him.

A customer sat with his shoes off, waiting for her on the bed.

She took a step forward. When she was closer, the candlelight exposed him.
 
Mr. Grossling shook a key at her.

She almost let out a sigh of relief, until she saw him unbutton his coat. "I couldn't believe Welling would break with you. Now I get to sample the captain's woman."

Fear and anger twisted in her gut, wrestling to allow the right words out of her mouth. "You've lost your mind. I came here to find the missing Xhosa to stop the attack. So go on and give me the key."

She stuck out her hand.

Mr. Grossling whipped a gun from the nightstand. He put a bullet in it and peppered it. "It's not that simple, Miss Jewell. If we die from the Xhosa attack, I'll die with a smile on my face. Now come away from that door."

A battle inside erupted again. Those same words were uttered to her in the shack in the woods in Charleston. She didn't listen then and it had made her punishment worse. He'd taken a knife and branded her forever.
 

She folded her trembling arms. "I have to get to Gareth. You're not an evil man. And you're not going to take me against my will."

"You've been a mistress to Welling. Why not be my whore, too? Come give me my due. I've paid for you. You're not leaving here unless you make me happy."

He pulled out his watch. "Time is running out. I could've had you and been done by now, if you were willing. Then you can run and tell Welling whatever it is you think will stop the Xhosa." He blew her a kiss. "Tick tock."

Maybe if she gave him his due, he'd let her go to Gareth and stop the war. She was in a house where women gave they their bodies for a few pence, a little food and water. This giving would save the colony. Wasn't that enough to endure this final shame?

It had to be. She dropped her shawl and watched his eyes get bigger as he seemed to ogle the low cut of her bodice. Marked as such so many years ago, playing dress up in Eliza clothes, even gaining Gareth's love, none of it changed what she was. Now she'd be wanton to save Port Elizabeth.

Gareth muttered every thing he could under his breath. That darn woman was going to be the death of him. It took forever to get his household stable. Rousing the cabin boy to come attend Mrs. Narvel, her babe, and Jonas took needed time. Precious was in Mrs. Branddochter's house of flesh. The girl had been horribly abused in Charleston. Those men wouldn't take no for their dalliances. It wasn't safe for any woman, especially not Precious. Someone might look at her and miss the passion in her eyes, the intelligence that worked when she wasn't doing something stupid.
 

Mzwamadoda rode up next to him. "My people are gathering on the ridge. The attack is imminent. You should turn back and get your people to safety."

"My people is in a brothel, doing something she thinks will stop the coming slaughter. I've got to get her out of there."

"She means that much to you?"

He looked at Mzwamadoda. If he could use his rapier to end this futile chatter, he might have cut his friend down.
 

"So Xhosa lives matter to you, Welling." Mzwamadoda smiled. "Then let's go retrieve the Precious."

The sound of horns started small then grew. They must know that this would make the colonists fearful. Ralston said he'd be steadfast. The English wouldn't draw first blood. Well not Xhosa blood. If some fool laid a hand on Precious, blood was going to be shed.

They arrived at Madame Branddochter's. Gareth jumped down and pounded to the front.
 

The Dutch woman blocked him at the door. She had a gun barrel in her hand. "Lord Welling, what do you want here?"

"I've come for Precious Jewell."

"She's my Precious now. And she's busy. I'll tell her you stopped by."

He hefted his spear, knocking at the gun butt. "Neeltje Woman, get out of my way or I'll tear this place to pieces."

Mzwamadoda was on his heels. "Dutchy, he will." He took his spear from his side. "Can't shoot us both."

"Gareth?" It was Precious's voice. She sounded hurt.

He flew down the hall past the woman. Again Mzwamadoda was right behind him.
 

Precious stood at the door of a chamber. She bunched her shawl about her shoulders. "Gareth?"
 

As he started toward her to scoop up the scared girl into his arms, Grossling popped out of the chamber behind her. "Xhosa!"

The world moved in slow motion. The flint exploded, the bullet sailed through the crook of Precious's arm.
 

Gareth pushed Mzwamadoda out of the way and took the metal's sting. His side felt on fire as he fell to his knees. He placed his hands to the gaping wound. His hands last night were covered in Mrs. Narvel's blood. His own now stained his fingers. Now wasn't the time to die. Nothing was done.
 

Precious screamed and ran to him. She took her shawl and bunched it into his leaking side. "No, Gareth. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Mzwamadoda jumped over them, knocked the gun from Grossling and pinned him to the wall. "I told you they were killers, Precious. Now they kill each other too."

His hands were on Grossling's windpipe.
 

Turning purple, the war department man squealed. "I was protecting myself. I meant to kill him not you, Welling."

Precious pulled Gareth's face into her bosom. She kissed his brow. "You have to be well. I found the chief and his daughter. Your Port Elizabeth can be saved. You can't die."

Pressing her hands to his side, he sat up. "Where are they, Precious? Maybe there is still time to stop Bezile. Tell us."

 
Mzwamadoda punched Grossling so hard he fell down in a silent lump. "The Precious one, where are they?"

She fussed over Gareth, touched him, and kissed him. He felt the depth of her care, but so many things were undone between them.
 

Her voice held tears. "Mzwamadoda, down the stairs."

The warrior flew down the hall. His feet barely touched the ground.
 

Mrs. Branddochter rounded the corner. The woman paled. "Blood! Oh, dear lord, what is going on?"

Precious leapt up. "This is your fault, you horrible shrew. You locked me in that room with that fool. And he just shot my Gareth."