Petals on the River (32 page)

unable to understand what had aroused Cain's interest in the girl.
 
In

the nine years Gage had lived in the area, he had never heard the

hunchback say as many words as he had managed to speak that day.
 
A few

villagers had expressed doubt that Cain could even talk but that had

been mainly the opinion of those who had kept their distance from the

man, believing him demented.

As an infant, Cain had been left on the doorstep of a half-crazed old

woman who had lived by herself in a crude hovel in the woods. Because of

his deformities, the elder had dubbed him Cain, for she had averred the

poor babe had been severely marked by a finger of God. Over the passage

of years the previously feisty woman had become increasingly frail and

finally succumbed before Cain's ninth year.

Thereafter the child had had to scrounge for his mere existence, but the

hag had required Cain to work for his keep at an early age and had

taught him how to trap, grub, and forage for food.
 
He still lived in

the woman's hut, keeping to himself for the most part, but when he had a

need for essentials that he couldn't find in the woods, he would bring

deerhides, rabbit fur and other pelts to trade with Mr.
 
Foster. Even

then, Cain took care to remain in the shadows and secret nooks where it

was safe until the storekeeper gathered whatever supplies he had come in

for.

On rare occasions, and at the persistent urging of the storekeeper, the

hunchback would relent and bring in wooden birds that he had a talent

for carving, allowing them to be sold.
 
But according to Foster, Cain

disliked parting with them because he considered the sculptures his

friends, and although Foster had promised Cain a goodly sum to encourage

him, none had been forthcoming for some years now.

With the possible exceptions of Mr.
 
Foster, Mary Margaret, and Hugh and

Roxanne Corbin, most of the townspeople were afraid of Cain and, if he

happened near, were wont to shoo him away with brooms, sticks, rocks, or

whatever else came readily to hand, but to Gage's knowledge the man had

never done anyone any harm.
 
Indeed, from what he had heard and seen

with his own eyes, he was convinced that Cain had far more reason to be

afraid of the villagers, for the young toughs were prone to use him as a

whipping boy to prove their manhoodþor, Gage mentally jeered, the lack

of it.

A shadow fell across the doorway, and Gage glanced up to find Roxanne

poised on the threshold in indecision.
 
Though he was still stewing over

her threats, he gave her a curt nod of recognition, deciding it was

wiser by far not to antagonize her.
 
At his stilted greeting, the

hunchback shuffled awkwardly around to peer toward the portal.

"Cain didn't hurt her, did he?" Roxanne asked apprehensively, shifting

her gaze toward the unconscious Shemaine.

"As far as I know, Cain had nothing to do with the incident," Gage

replied stiffly.
 
"The man who attacked her was a sailor from the London

Pride.
 
I'm not sure how it all started, but he seemed intent upon

killing her."

Mary Margaret came forward with Andrew in tow.
 
"I can tell ye what

happened," she volunteered.
 
"I saw it all with me own eyes."

Although the elder had halted within easy reach of Cain, Andrew was

almost oblivious to his presence, for he now had a sucker to hold and

admire until his parent gave him permission to eat it.

Gage was curious about the attack on Shemaine and directed his full

attention upon the woman.
 
"What did you see, Mary Margaret?"

The elder gestured toward the couch.
 
"That dear, brave girl thrashed

that odious sailor with a stick after she saw him beating Cain, an' she

came nigh ta losin' her life for it, too, despite all those drunken

souls who were standin' round watchin' it all happen. Were I a man, I'd

have given those clods a cuff or two ta bring them out o' their

senseless stupor!
 
Ta be sure, they were sailin' with six sheets ta the

wind.
 
Aye, an' tis sorry I am that the Irish are so fond o' talkin' an'

sippin'.
 
The more they tipple, the more they prattle."

"Shemaine will be all right, won't she?" Roxanne queried worriedly.

Mary Margaret was amazed at her concern.
 
"Aye, she'll be as good as

ever after a bit o' rest an' tender care."

Roxanne smiled rigidly, sweeping her gaze toward Gage.
 
"You be sure and

let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Gage couldn't imagine himself being so foolish.
 
Still, he found himself

amazed anew at her change of moods.
 
To say that she was erratic at

times might have been an understatement.
 
It all depended on her

perspective, how she saw things that personally affected her.
 
"No need

to concern yourself, Roxanne."

Nodding a silent farewell to him and then to the elder, Roxanne stepped

back from the door.
 
Then she lifted her hand and beckoned to Cain.

"Come along now before you get into more trouble."

The hunchback cast a glance toward Shemaine, then obediently left the

store and scuffled along the boardwalk with hus cumbersome gait, moving

in the general direction of the blacksmith shop.

"Poor soul." Mary Margaret sighed, stepping to the door to watch him go.

"He's like a lost, mangled sheep searching for a shepherd to lead him. I

think he'd be loyal to anyone who would befriend him."

"Do you find it unusual that Roxanne concerns herself over his welfare?"

Gage inquired as he sat down on the couch beside Shemaine. He dipped a

cloth into the basin of cool water and began to bathe the girl's face as

he awaited Mary Margaret's response.

The elder sighed and shook her head.
 
"They're both lost sheep, at odds

with this hamlet and, I think, the world."

Floating slowly upward through an eerie fog, Shemaine became

increasingly aware of a painful constriction in her throat.
 
She

swallowed, and then winced at the agony it caused her.
 
Rolling her head

on the leather cushion beneath her head, she opened her eyes a mere slit

and tried to focus on the cherubic face that was braced on two small

fists near her own, but her eyelids scratched like dry parchment against

the tender orbs, causing tears to start.

"Andrew?" she whispered raspingly.
 
"Could you ask someone to fetch me a

glass of water?"

"Daddee?" The boy glanced up to find his father already leaning forward

with a tin cup in his hand.

"Here's some water, Shemaine," Gage said, slipping an arm beneath her

shoulders and lifting her up.
 
He was amazed once again at how light and

fragile she felt against his arm.
 
It was certainly a poignant reminder

of just how long it had been since he had held a woman in his embrace.

He pressed the cup to her lips and held it as she slowly sipped, as

closely attentive to her as he had been to Andrew earlier that morning.

Mary Margaret came near and leaned on her cane as she contemplated

Shemaine over the top of Andrew's head.
 
She was relieved to see some

color returning to the girl's cheeks, for she had begun to worry that

some permanent damage had been done.
 
"That was a very brave thing you

did, me girl, takin' up for Cain, but I must say ye were also very

foolish, considerin' the size o' that buffoon ye attacked."

"Cain?" Shemaine wheezed.
 
Her brows gathered in confusion, for she was

unable to remember anyone by that name.
 
"Who .
 
.
 
.
 
?"

"The hunchback, dearie." The elder supplied the information with a

pitying smile.
 
"His adoptive mother thought the name suited him."

Gage set the cup aside and lowered his bondswoman back to the cushion.

Reasonably assured that she hadn't been harmed beyond repair, he

couldn't keep still any longer about her moment of folly.
 
"Why didn't

you call me and let me handle the matter, Shemaine?
 
I wasn't so far

away that I couldn't have heard you, had you done so." He leaned forward

to command her attention with a stern frown.
 
"I won't have you risking

your life like that again, do you hear?"

Shemaine felt like a child being reproved by her father.
 
It didn't make

her feel any better knowing he was right.
 
It was unsettling to realize

just how foolhardy she had been and what the consequences might have

been if she hadn't been snatched away.
 
Potts could have killed her.

Still she was pricked by her own lack of consideration for Gage. He

would have been hard-pressed to find the funds to buy another

bondswoman.
 
Indeed, he might have been left for some time without a

nursemaid to tend his son.

"I'm sorry, Mr.
 
Thornton.
 
I fear I lost my head when I saw Potts

beating that poor man," she apologized contritely.
 
"I should have been

more careful and considerate of the great sum you have invested in me.

I shall strive to be more thoughtful in the future."

Gage was incensed at her faulty conjectures.
 
"Do you honestly think the

forty pounds I paid for you is worth more than your life?" he asked

angrily.
 
"'Tis the foolishness of endangering yourself that I speak of.

Who was that man, anyway?
 
Don't tell me he's the one you warned me

about."

"Aye, Jacob Potts, the sailor from the London Pride," Shemaine answered

in a hoarse croak.
 
"Before I left the ship, he vowed to kill me."

"He very nearly did!" Gage retorted tersely, exasperated with her

because she had blindly ignored the man's threats and attacked him in

all probability provoking deeper grudges.
 
For her own peace of mind, he

hoped it wouldn't be too long before the tar put to sea again.

Shemaine was unable to remember anything beyond the shadowy haze that