Bal Masque (31 page)

Chapter Twenty:

End of the Trail

Lucienne rubbed the rawhide binding, stretching it against the saddle horn. Price had poor skills in tying hands, she noted with glee. A little more effort and she’d have her hands free. If only they didn’t get too far from Armand or turn away from the trail.

“M’sieu, m’sieu, I beg you, you must slow down. I’m not accustomed to riding in this fashion. You’ll receive something less than a reward if my Papa thinks I’ve been treated without respect.” Her plea in wailing tones came from the depths of her gift for mimicry. She had no difficulty manufacturing the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Price slowed his mount to a walk. “I suppose there’s something in that,” he conceded. “Horses need to take a rest, too. These critters look like they’ve been rode down to the nub.”

“Could we stop for a while, m’sieu? I’m not used to being so long in the saddle.”

“Not yet. If we get lost in the swamp, we might never find our way out.” He gave her a stern look. “I’m not coddlin’ you, girl. We stop when I say.”

He ignored her plaintive pleas and occasional sobs with his rigid back turned away. As long as he disregarded her, Lucienne sawed her bonds against the pommel with vigor. The rawhide was giving way, stretching and fraying, with her efforts. In a little while, minutes maybe, she’d have her hands free. Then she only had to wait for the moment when she could distract him, snatch her reins from his hands, and speed into the trees. Surely she could find her way back to the camp. Or if Armand had regained consciousness, he was certain to be following them and not far behind. Price glanced back. Fearing he’d see what she was doing, she let two more tears pour down her face as she stared into his eyes.

“Oh, please, m’sieu, can’t we stop for a little? Riding in this fashion is most difficult for me. I can barely stand the misery it causes me.” Her wail was as false as it was entreating, but Price must have believed her. He reined in his horse.

“Were you this much trouble to Dupre?” His tone suggested he wondered if she was worth his efforts in spite of the money he expected.

“Far more, I fear. He was much put out with me.” She sniffed pitifully.

“And little wonder.” Price turned back and picked up the pace a little.

Too much depended on slowing him down. Lucienne tried a new attack. “How did you ever find us, m’sieu? You must have been very clever.”

He did drop back a pace or two. Lucienne hid the loosened thong between her hands. “Not clever so much as lucky. Maybe that’s changed things for me, findin’ you. I had some people, people I didn’t want to see, lookin’ for me. Late last night I spotted them before they spotted me, so I slipped into the trees to stay clear of them. Found some of the trail and followed it. Caught sight of Dupre across the stream this mornin’ and then heard you up at the camp. Never thought any of you’d still be alive. Looked like a sign my luck was changin’. Figured I was due a new deal and took advantage of what I found. Clunked Dupre with a whiskey bottle, and here we are. Worked just the way I thought.”

“You haven’t asked about Dorcas, m’sieu. Don’t you wonder where your daughter is?”

“Meanin’ she’s alive after that hurricane, too? I’ll be jiggered. Never figured her to be smart enough to get clear. Where’s the girl at?”

“I don’t really know. Said she had friends who’d take her in. Went off in a boat.”

“Friends? Don’t know about that, but she’ll be lookin’ for her pa in a day or two, when she learns I’ve got money again. She’ll hie herself back right quick.” Price must have realized the horses had slowed to an amiable walk. He urged his mount to a faster pace, and Lucienne’s mare could do nothing but follow.

In another mile, Lucienne saw Price’s horse had developed a limp. The heavy gelding no longer moved with the ease of a rocking chair. The man rode until it was impossible to ignore the situation.

“Must have picked up a stone.” Price looped Lucienne’s reins over his saddle horn. “Don’t do sumthin’ foolish now, girl. Iffen you try to ride off with your hands tied, you’re gonna get th’owed.”

While he examined first one hoof and then a second, Lucienne uncoiled the binding around her wrists. She leaned forward to pull her reins free, then froze when a band of shadowed movement caught her eye. It lay in the crevice of a fallen log, menacing. Price stepped over the log to lift his mount’s front hoof. The horse sensed danger and reared.

“Look out, Price!” Lucienne cried out just as the cottonmouth struck. The horse screamed with alarm and pulled free, releasing Lucienne’s reins at the same time. Her horse danced back. The gelding bolted. Price, horror mirrored in his eyes, spun just in time for a second viper to rise up and strike above his heavy boot.

The mare, reacting to the fear in the air, whirled. Lucienne barely caught her reins before the creature thundered away from the site. She tugged madly, trying to bring the horse under control while clinging to the saddle with her knees.

Racing headlong into the thicket, Lucienne had no sense of her direction. She crouched in the saddle, clutching the mane of the panicked creature. Low limbs flashed over her head. Trees loomed dangerously close. She held on with all her strength.

“Easy, easy,” she soothed the frightened animal. “Easy, slow down now, easy.” She kept up the gentle coaxing as the horse slowed, overcome with exhaustion. At last the run became a walk, then a standing stop. Shaken to her boots, Lucienne slid from the saddle and clung to her mount’s lathered flank.

Panting as much as the animal, Lucienne gave the horse a careful look. Everything seemed to be in place, no broken bones or torn flesh. “We came out of that better than we might have.” She praised the animal, stroking its heaving sides. “You at least looked where you were going.”

Gathering up the reins, trying to see a tree that would mark the trail, Lucienne led the horse between thick trunks and fallen limbs. She didn’t see anything even resembling a trail. She looked up at the sky and marked where the sun was. It seemed to be directly overhead, giving her no direction. “Well, we have to go one way or another.” She sighed and turned to the right. The stream should be on her right if she was going back toward the camp she’d shared with Armand. She had to find him. He could be dazed, confused by the blow from Price’s whiskey bottle and wandering in the swamps. Driven by fear and a concern she barely acknowledged, she searched for familiar landmarks or signs of human trespass. He had survived, Lucienne assured herself, ducking to look for markers. A blackguard like Price couldn’t destroy such a man as Armand, a man who faced down pirates and a hurricane. She would find him, she repeated over and over. Finding him was the only hope for all of them, Price included, though he didn’t deserve it. How long could a man live with snake venom in his veins? Snakebite wasn’t all that uncommon; with care many people survived.

In the next cluster of trees she saw the first trail marker—a single limb pointing left. A few feet beyond, she saw another. Her spirits lifted. At least she was on a trail even if she didn’t know which way she was going. Determined to press on, Lucienne plodded forward. The nagging hum of mosquitoes filled her head. She slapped the hungry pests away and pushed toward another marker. Her horse shook the reins, as if unwilling to proceed.

“We must find Armand,” she told the animal and tugged at the leather. The horse took a reluctant step at Lucienne’s urging. A fallen tree hidden by smaller limbs and debris snatched at her ragged hem. Lucienne kicked herself free, shredding her skirts to threads. More sharp splinters and twigs snatched at her. She wrenched away, veering left and right to escape their grasp. As she twisted, a low branch whipped across her shoulder. “Aaahie!” She cried out and dropped to her knees, rubbing the welt. For a moment she couldn’t move. Then, slowly, clutching at a thick branch, she forced herself up. Her only escape from this nightmare was to stay with the trail and hope to find Armand. Together they would find a way out. Her horse stood a pace or two away, cropping grass and ignoring her. Lucienne forced her halting feet over the matted ground and gathered up the reins again. Squaring her shoulders, she looked for the next trail marker and began her quest once more.

Less than a mile farther, her road stopped. A toppled cedar, immense and ancient, blocked her way. With roots ripped from the soil, it loomed over her, branches thrust into the ground like bars of a great black cage. Fearing she would be hopelessly lost if she circled around the tree, Lucienne hesitated. She saw no way through the tangle. Heavy limbs crushed broken brush beneath an enormous weight. Splintered branches as high as the saplings around them cut into the sky. Lucienne bit her lip. She’d have to take the risk of going around.

Sounds, a rustling in the brush beyond, alarmed her. Animals, she told herself, but images of Price and the river pirates overwhelmed her. She looked for cover to conceal her horse and herself. She had no illusions left. The horse would be a prize worth killing for, and her own life negligible if the pirates found her again. She turned, urged her horse to follow, and plunged into the thick bracken. Shuddering at the thought of snakes and other denizens of this murky landscape, Lucienne felt the ooze of mud in her boots. She cringed behind a curtain of brambles. A crunch of footsteps and the thwack of broken twigs told her someone was coming. It had to be a person; it walked on two feet. She peered through her green wall. The steps came nearer. She held her breath. She must not be seen. The steps were heavy, a little irregular. She ducked farther into her lair, not risking discovery. She had no defenses left. The steps passed, and she drew a breath. Counting slowly to fifty, Lucienne raised her head and peeped out. She came face to face with Armand.

“Lucienne!” He reached toward her at the same moment she hurled herself through the brush between them.

“Armand, you’re alive! I was afraid he’d killed you.” She threw herself into his arms, putting his strength between her and the ugliness behind her. “Are you all right?”

“My head is hard,
chèrie
, and I’m not so easy to kill. But I was afraid I’d never catch up with you, Chou-Chou. I all but gave up when I found even this old path blocked by that tree.” His head bent over hers, and they clung to each other. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “It’s all right now,
chèrie
. I should have known he’d never be able to hold you.”

“Armand, he’s up the trail, I don’t know how far, but he’s hurt. Another of those cottonmouths got him, maybe two of them. He stirred up a nest, I think. The horse bolted.” She stopped, all the explanation she could muster given.

Armand looked grim. “The wildlife is unsettled since the storm. Especially the cottonmouths, I think, because so much of their habitat was destroyed and their natural food wiped out. If there’s a nest, we’d better find him soon.”

“My horse is winded. I don’t think she’ll carry both of us. And yours was acting lame. That’s why Price got off, to check for a stone. There was the snake, and then, I don’t know, the horse just flew into the trees. And mine ran the other way.”

“We walk, then, till we find Price and the other horse. Price will have to sit on your mount if he can’t walk and the other one’s lame or lost.”

The sun had passed from overhead to below the treetops before they came on Price. He sprawled across a log less than a mile from where Lucienne had last seen him. Apparently he’d tried to walk for help but had chosen the wrong direction and was forced to turn back. She saw the grossly swollen leg above the man’s boot, and the whiskey bottle beside his outstretched hand. Armand motioned Lucienne to stand aside as he approached the fallen figure.

“Price?” He shook the man’s shoulder. A limp arm fell against the ground. Armand leaned down and pressed two fingers under a worn collar. Slowly he stood and shook his head. Lucienne turned away.

“There was nothing to do,
chèrie
. He tried walking, and that spread the venom through his system. And the whiskey didn’t help. At any rate, his wretched life…” Armand shrugged, but there was compassion in his tone. “It’s over. It ended with another foolish choice, a mistake. I think it’s only the last in a lifetime of bad choices.” He tucked her into his arms and turned her away from the sight.

“I lied to him about Dorcas so he’d let her alone. I thought she’d be better off with him out of her life.”

“You were right, Chou-Chou. She will be.”

“I told her to come visit me. If she comes, I’ll have to tell her about this. It’s going to hurt her all over again.”

“Chou-Chou, you don’t have to tell her everything. We’ll take Price back to town. Dorcas only needs to know that he died, from snakebite if you feel you must say how, but there’s no need to reveal his last actions.”

“Take him back?”

“Get the blanket from your horse and I’ll wrap him. The horse will carry him, but we’ll have to walk from here. It’s not too far to the Renard place. Renard will loan me his wagon. I’ll take you to Marie and then see to this other business.” He gestured at the still form. “A decent burial is all we can give him now.”

Lucienne nodded. She’d be glad to get away from this dark watery land, out of the funereal gloom of cascading moss, and into open space where nothing lay in wait, neither man nor beast nor things that moved without legs. She stood aside as Armand took care of the grim business, and then they began once more the last leg of their odyssey.

****

A faint rim of light touched the sky as the rattling wagon clattered through the streets of New Orleans. The long, grim night had passed, a night that might have been a month, at least. It seemed a lifetime since she’d run away. Lucienne leaned against Armand’s shoulder, carefully disregarding the cumbersome bundle filling the back of the wagon. He handled the reins with one hand, his other holding her close.

“Weary, Lucienne? Tired beyond words? I’ve never seen you so silent.”

She raised up to look around. “Are we nearly to the house?” Her monotone said as much about her exhaustion as any words could.

He stroked her head, easing it back against his shoulder. “Just up there at the end of the street, Chou-Chou. Marie will be relieved to see you. See that she finds you something hot to eat and puts you to bed. No questions, no explanations. Those will wait till you’ve rested.”