Archer, Jane (12 page)

"Give us what belongs to us, Jake," Sully said as he leered obscenely at Alexandra, making her conscious of her wet, clinging gown with nothing under it to protect her from their prying eyes.

"Yes, we want her, Jake," Caroline said, almost purring.

Alexandra shrank back, her hands clutching Jake for protection. She had thought there could be nothing worse than the three Clarkes trying to run her life, but they wanted to rule her in life. These people wanted to rule her in death.

"Now, all three of you know that Alex is mine. I found her. I keep her. I've made her mine."

"But, my darling double-crossing love," Caroline said coldly, letting her whip flick toward them, "you are unarmed. Give her to us, or they will shoot her now. Do you want her dead?"

The guns were trained on Alexandra for an instant, and Jake shoved her behind him.

"You think you're clever, Jake?" Sully asked. "That won't work. I only have to walk around behind you while Hayward guards you from the front. Give her to us."

"Stop playing with them," Caroline said sharply, suddenly losing her patience. "I want that woman!"

She snapped her whip once, twice, then sent it reeling toward Jake in a vicious snap at his eyes. But he was ready for her move and caught it in his hand. Jake jerked the whip, and Caroline fell, still clinging to the weapon. He took the few steps to her and as his foot crushed mercilessly down on her hand, a sharp, commanding voice rang out in the soft stillness of the night.

"Drop the guns—slowly."

Alexandra glanced up in surprised relief to see several brawny sailors under Morley's command, all armed with guns which were trained on Hayward and Sully. Jake jerked the whip out of Caroline's hand, throwing it far away into the surf. His eyes coolly raked her sprawled form; he stepped back, taking Alexandra's hand. Caroline struggled to her knees, then stood up in all her feline magnificence, glowering at Jake and Alexandra.

"You may have won this time, Jake, but don't ever set foot in the Bahamas again," she warned angrily, her brown eyes hard and flashing.

"Don't worry, my dear. I have no plans for that. There doesn't seem to be any reason now."

He smiled down at Alexandra, but it didn't extend to his eyes, and she wondered if he did it to taunt Caroline. She would not soon forget his earlier anger, or hers either. He had unfairly condemned her, and she knew instinctively that it would be something not easily worked out between them.

"I have no need for more bloodshed," Jake said. "There was enough of that in the war. Alexandra belongs to me and let that be the end of it."

He bowed curtly, then turned to give instructions to Morley before taking Alexandra by the arm. He led her toward his ship which she could now see anchored not far away. It was a welcome sight after what she had just been through, and it would have looked like a safe haven if not for the hard, unforgiving man who walked by her side.

PART TWO: IN THE LAND OF COTTON

Chapter 9

Alexandra paced the captain's cabin on
The Flying J.
They were in the port of New Orleans, but she was virtually Jake's prisoner. Although they had only been together a few days since leaving the Bahamas, Jake had decided to keep her with him. He would not listen to her pleas that she had to stay in New Orleans, that she had business in the city. He was going to Texas and he was taking her with him, one way or another.

Jake quickly settled their relationship once he had her on his ship. When he wasn't on deck, commanding his ship, which fortunately, had been most of the time, he was in his cabin with her, teaching her the art of love. She fought him. She never gave in without a fight, but still he was so strong and somehow, her own body always turned traitor in his arms. She was furious with herself for succumbing to his desires, yet when he came to her, her own body would rise eagerly to join his until she lay exhausted and satisfied in his arms.

She could not understand herself. She had never felt about anyone as she did Jake. He outraged her with his demands and his assumption that she would be glad to stay with him, doing anything to be with him. Well, he was wrong. She was her own person. She had her own life. And she would not allow herself to become prisoner of the strange power he seemed to have over her body. She would escape him. She
had
to escape him!

And then, there was her promise to Olaf which she was determined to keep. She was in New Orleans. She had come a long way and through a lot to get here, and she would not allow herself to be whisked away to some barbarous place in Texas by a man she didn't even like, much less trust. No, she had to get off Jake's ship and out of his life.

Her first problem was clothing. She had the one gown that she had worn from the Bahamas—and no underthings. It was embarrassing, but she simply had nothing else, except the garish shawl that she had found in Jake's trunk. At least that would hide the bodice which was cut much too low for the daytime, exposing half her breasts.

She had no money, and she could not risk contacting her bank in New York for as surely as she did, Stan Lewis would know exactly where to find her. She would have to slip away from the ship, and make inquiries in New Orleans for the Jarmons. She was determined to find Olaf's family, perhaps they could help her. She was certainly in no position to help them at present, she thought unhappily.

Jake had left the ship early that morning. He had told her not to leave, or he would hunt her down. His hard blue eyes had threatened her and she knew his temper would flare if she did escape, but it made no difference. She was determined to leave. He had also told her that he would be gone several days, and when he returned, he would bring her new clothing and take her on a tour of New Orleans. She had decided that he must actually believe Captain Sully's taunt that she was a whore fleeing to New Orleans; why else would she come to the city? And then, why mind going with a man to Texas? Fool! She would show him!

All
of The Flying J
sailors had been given leave, except Morley, who was in charge of her, with strict instructions from Jake to keep her locked in his cabin. The old sailor had been kind to her on the trip from the Bahamas and she had grown fond of him so she felt a little guilty for what she would have to do to him to escape, but it was necessary. She had been waiting impatiently all day for Morley to bring her dinner. It would be her best chance to escape since he would have to unlock the door and come in. She was just sorry it was getting so late in the day. She would much rather have been venturing into the unknown city in full daylight.

Then she heard the knock on the cabin door that she had been expecting. Morley, at last. Determination turned her eyes a hard, glittering green. She must not think of Morley's past kindness to her, or of Jake's fury with him when he discovered her gone. She had to escape no matter what. As the knock came again, more urgent, she picked up the nearly full whisky bottle Jake had left on his desk. It was the best weapon she could find and it would have to do. She tiptoed to the door, positioned herself behind it, holding her weapon ready.

The knock came again, louder, more persistent. Morley called out in concern, "Miss Alexandra. Miss Alex. I've brought your dinner. I went into New Orleans and bought you fresh fruit and vegetables. You'll enjoy the change. Are you asleep? Well, I'll just be coming in then and leaving the tray."

A key turned in the lock. Alexandra tensed, ready with the bottle. Morley pushed the door open. Just as he stepped into the cabin, Alexandra brought the bottle down on his head with all her strength. It broke, spilling its contents down the man and spraying Alexandra as broken glass flew from the force of the impact. Morley's knees buckled and he crashed heavily to the floor, the dinner tray spilling its contents all around him.

Alexandra quickly checked to see that he was still breathing. Then, she grabbed up the shawl and a blanket from the bunk. She threw the blanket over the old sailor, wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and left the cabin, closing the door tightly shut behind her.

As the soft April night fell over New Orleans, Alexandra stepped onto the quay, pulling the brightly colored shawl more closely about herself, acutely aware of the stench of whisky that had soaked her gown. Although the day had been warm, she could feel the cool, damp evening air penetrating her clothes and curling the soft hair that had escaped the knot at the back of her neck. She smoothed down her skirts, then looked about. Nothing was familiar, of course, and she didn't know which way to go, for she knew nothing of New Orleans. But she knew she must do something quickly. She walked determinedly away from the dock, heading for what appeared to be the main part of the city. Perhaps she could find a church there and make inquiries, or at least find a place for the night within its safety. She had no money for a hotel, and she certainly did not want to be out alone at night.

Alexandra plunged into the narrow streets of New Orleans. It was darker here for the buildings blocked out the dying rays of the sun, and she pulled the shawl more closely to her body, as if in defense of the eerie, deepening shadows around her. Without realizing it, she moved toward the sounds of people, deeper into the dark labyrinth of streets, and closer to what she hoped would be safety.

But as she continued her fast pace along the dimly lit streets, turning first down one and then another, Alexandra grew more and more confused and steadily more aware that she was not approaching a church. For as she hurried along, more sailors passed her, calling to her, and from dark, shadowy doorways, shapes beckoned, calling her to them.

As dusk turned into night, street lamps spread their pale luminous glow to the buildings and people, and Alexandra realized that she was not in the best part of town. She hurried even faster, feeling her heart grow cold with fear as she tried to find a better section of the city. Suddenly a stranger grabbed at her shawl, suggesting things in a low voice that she could not believe he said. Where was she?

Finally, out of breath from her frantic pace, she stopped and looked around. She was on a narrow street lined with two and three storied buildings. Light streamed from the open doors of each building, and loud, tinny music blared from them all. The sounds of high pitched women's laughter and the low, mellow sounds of male voices chimed with the music of piano and fiddle to fill the street with a chorus of raw noise. Alexandra stared at the rough, coarse, crude-looking people about her, and knew that she had somehow stumbled into a
very
bad part of New Orleans.

What was she to do? As she pondered her problem, another brawny sailor stopped, pulling her roughly to him. She pushed at his broad, hard chest desperately.

"Where's your place, honey? You're a frisky little thing, aren't you?" he said loudly as his hand reached down boldly and fondled her hips.

Alexandra cried out, trying to hit him. But he merely caught her fists, laughing.

"Yes, you're a hot-tempered one all right. That's the way I like you ladies. Don't worry, I've got money. Just been in port a few hours. You make it worth my while, and I'll spend it all on you," he said, his hands roving over her body until they reached her full breasts, then quickly darted under her shawl for better contact.

"Oh," he moaned, "you're a beauty, a real beauty."

As Alexandra struggled to free herself, he held her close, one hand at the small of her back, while the other kneaded her breasts, trying to get to her bare flesh.

"Let me go!" Alexandra cried sharply, hardly able to believe the man was pawing her in the streets.

"Oh, you like to play games, do you? Suits me. Now, where's your place?"

"I don't have a place, you—you slime!"

"No? With your looks, I'd have thought you'd have your own room. Well, for you I'm not adverse to a carpet. Where is it? You want to put it down right here, or you got an alley somewhere staked out?"

"No!" Alexandra cried, savagely jerking away from his embrace. She began running down the street. Her long gown hampered her so she pulled it up around her knees as she ran on, bumping into people, being caught by lecherous hands ready to feel any woman, until finally she fell over a drunk sprawled across the street. Picking herself up, hardly noticing her raw, scraped hands in her desperation, she ran on, her breath coming in ragged, burning gasps.

She could still hear pursuing footsteps behind her, and she knew the lusty sailor must surely be following her, or another equally horrible man. How could she get out of this labyrinth of terror? The street was seemingly endless, and men and women in various stages of dress lined the block, and the barrel-houses and dance-houses on either side. She had never seen such a place before or even dreamed it existed, and she was beginning to know the stark terror of fear.

Suddenly several large hands clamped down on her from all around, stopping her in mid-stride. She shrieked, horrified, and lost her balance, falling into what seemed to be a huge group of sailors, laughing and grinning down at her.

Ogling their prize as they hurried her along with them, the lusty sailors pawed her trembling body as she tried to knock their hands away. They slipped Alexandra in between buildings into a back alley, then shoved her to the ground. She shrank back from them, not knowing how to escape.

"You can't get away, my pretty, as if you really wanted to. Since you seemed to need some subduing, I called for my mates. They'll be glad to share you. Didn't I tell you she was a looker?" the sailor asked the others and they quickly agreed, coming closer.

"Please, please, you don't understand. I'm lost.

I don't belong here," Alexandra cried out desperately.

"Didn't I tell you she liked to play games? You like a little fight? Is that right, honey?"

"No! No! Stay away from me. I'll scream."

The sailors all laughed as they advanced on her. Then one said, "Won't do you no good, girlie. There's plenty of screams go on in Gallatin Street all the time. No one will care, and there's no police here. They don't dare come into Gallatin Street."