Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (49 page)

anyway.Only when I saw Chris struggling to reload the musket

 

did I recallshe had one.

More surprising, Pete was there instructing her—or rather providinga constant harangue.
I called out and they turned to face us: Pete bringing a pistolto bear onChris as he did so.
At our surprise, he shrugged. “SheTriedTaShootMe.”
As Chris was glaring at him as if she would gladly take the opportunityto shoot at himagain, I did not ask more.
“Good to see youthis day,”I told her sincerely.
She snorted with anger. “You were supposed to be here this morning; but instead, this arse arrived!”
“IWasGoin’IntaTownAnI’EardShootin’,” he roared back.
“I was tryingto practice,”she spat.
He rolled his eyes extravagantly. “Iffn’SheBeDressin’LikeABoy,
SheAtLeastShouldLearnTaShootAsWellAsABoy.
SheShootsLikeAGirl!”
“Have you ever seen a girl handle a musket?’ I asked as we dismounted.
“Nay! AnThereBeGoodReason. TheyBeTooSlowAnWeak.”
“Fuck you!” Chris howled. She was trembling and leaning on her piece. “I will get better.” She lunged clumsily at him, swingingthe musket like a club.
Pete nimblydodged and pointed the pistolat her again.
“Stop!” Gaston growled. “You!” He pointed at Pete. “Drop the pistol. You!”he told Christine, “sit inthe shade.”
They complied like scolded children: Pete pouting and Chris obviously relieved. Gaston handed Chris a water skin from the hut and pulled the right shoulder of her shirt aside to reveal the livid bruise above the bandages she used to bind her breasts. It was the mark any person would have after repeatedly firing a musket for severalhours. No matter how wellone pulled the butt into one’s shoulder, the recoil bruised after several repetitions. It was like someone wedging the heel of their hand next to the armpit and givingshort little punches—veryhard—over and over again. And Chris’ bony chest did not possess the muscular paddingofa man—inthat area.
“This needs a compress, and you will use a rag as paddinghere whenyoupractice,”Gastonordered.
She nodded meekly and had not flinched fromhis touch, thoughshe was regardingthe tree line withstoic intensity.
I decided a change of subject was in order. “Doucette is dead.”
“’Ow?”Pete asked witha grin.
“I pushed himdownthe stairs.”
The Golden One guffawed. Chris frowned. Gaston moved away from her to sit in the shade nearby and smile ruefully.
“Aye,” I told her, and then I told them of last night’s misunderstanding—leadingto its conclusion.
“SheBePregnant?”Pete asked.
“Aye, and it is mine.”
The comical image of his mouth dropping open was well worth my scrambling around the clearing to avoid him after he recovered enoughto think I jested at his expense.
“Nay, nay,” I protested and hid behind Gaston. “It is true.”
Pete awarded mymatelot a woefullook ofconcern.
“He never touched her,”Gastonassured him.
I took the water skin from Chris and let my matelot explainabout syringes and jism.
“You got them both pregnant without laying a hand on them?” Chris asked with incredulity. Then she frowned. “So this Yvette—Madame Doucette—is Agnes’ friend? Is she in love withher, too?”
“Aye, and it is reciprocated.”
Her frowndeepened.
“Yvette favors women,”I said.
“Well… luckyAgnes,”Chris said witha distant tone.
Pete was now staring at me. “TheyBothBeCarryin’YurBabe?”
“That was not our intention, but it was apparently their decision,”I said.
“StrikerAnSarahBePissed. TheyCannaKeepUp WithThreeWomen—Naw, Four,” he looked at Chris with disdain, “Spittin’OutBabesFurTwoMen.”
“Go to Hell,”Chris growled.
“I did not know it was a competition,” I said lightly. “And one of those mothers is dead, and another,” I looked pointedly at Chris, “will never produce another child for us; and Gaston and I never expected to get two women pregnant at the same time—either time it has happened. That is surely a jest of the Gods ifthere ever was one.”
“I willnever produce another babe,”Chris said sullenly.
Gaston was smiling at me. “Now you should tell them our bignews.”
Pete raised aneyebrow. “ThereBeMore?”
“Aye, we must go and tellStriker and Sarahto pack and get to the ship.” I told themof our news fromFather Pierre and ofthe Marquis’ letter.
Pete seemed pleased. “WellItBeAShame’Bout GastonAnTheChurch, But IWouldBeLyin’IfISaid IWereSad’Bout NotGoin’TaFrance. An’INotBe Sorry WeFinallyBeLeavin’.”
So we are going to get on another ship now?” Chris asked withalarm. “And go where?”
“Youdo not need to go withus,”I assured her. “We will probably be sailing for the Netherlands—if everyone agrees. Once there, you willallsit and wait until Gaston and I, and Pete, resolve matters with my father. If you do not wish to go to the Netherlands, we can leave you here and you can secure passage back to France or to someplace else. If you wish for our aid, youwillneed to come withus, though.”

“I want to come with you, and not stay in the

“I want to come with you, and not stay in the Netherlands,”she said firmly.
I wished to argue, but there was no point indoingit now. Gaston was already collecting our things fromthe hut. We would all argue about who left the Netherlands for England later—after a good two months of arguing on the ship. I was not looking forward to this voyage.
Pete was deep in thought. He finally spoke. “YouShouldSendALetter ToTheMarquis AforeWeLeave. Tell’ImWhereWeBeHeaded
SoThat’EKnowsInCase’E’AsTaMakeARunFerIt.”
Gastonpaused and regarded himsadly. “Oui.”
“It is sad,” Chris said. “Your father is a good man. His lands are wealthy, and his people live well. His servants even adore him. But he is hated at court. They call him arrogant because he willnot come and curryfavor.”
“I have ruined him. I was the hole in his armor,” Gaston said.
“Nay,” Chris said. “According to my uncle, there were men trying to tear himdown even before he claimed you as heir. There are those who viewed his lands as ripe for the plucking after his other sons died. They have been trying to discredit him for years.”
I sighed. I did not wish to have Gaston wrongly blaming himself. The Marquis had told us all Chris said in his earlier letters. “It is not your fault. He had three sons. “I tried to change the subject. “I wonder if that is why he allowed your halfbrothers to run wild; so that they might make friends that would

serve themwellinlater years.”

 

serve themwellinlater years.”

Gaston sighed and nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps. It is ironic. For many years, I wanted himto lose his lands, because I felt they were more important to him than I had been, or my sister, or my mother. He had seemed so ashamed of us— because I had not understood. And now, his love of me is the thing that has brought himdown. Now I wish he had thrown me to the wolves to save himself.”

He went to Pomme and added the few things he had retrieved fromthe hut to our bags.
I looked to Pete. “Go ahead, we willbe there soon.”
Pete nodded and glared at Chris.
She sighed and stood, but she paused beside me before following Pete up the path. I regarded her expectantly, but she shook her head helplessly and said nothing. She began to walk again, only to stop a few steps later and turn back. “I amnew to this hatred. How do youlive withit?”
“You learn to ignore it and enjoy life. I have come to believe the best revenge is living happily despite them—to spite

them.”She nodded and slung her musket and bag over her

shoulder and followed Pete.
“Who do youhate?”I called after her.
“Wolves,” she said over her shoulder, and then she was

gone inthe dense brush.

I joined Gaston where he had gone to stand at the precipice and stare off across the passage toward the Haiti. He met my gaze and spoke sadly. “The wolves have taken my homes away:mybirthright and what I have claimed for myself.” homes away:mybirthright and what I have claimed for myself.”

I swept my eyes from horizon to horizon. It was a sad afternoon for it. There was little breeze to disrupt the haze, and the midday sun made everything flat and drab. We were being mocked. Our last chance to stand here, and the view was a pale shadow ofits glory.

Though we had known this day would come for months, I felt we were runningawayinthe night as I had so manytimes in my life. My Horse held His head low in resignation. Only my Wolfstood sniffingthe air, anxious for a new journey.

How had Shakespeare phrased it:to unleash the dogs of war? Aye, that is what we stood poised to do. I would release myWolfand laywaste as theydid. It felt wrong.

I turned awayand went to the unfinished Temple. “Is this what youtrulywant?”I implored the Gods.
“Non, but what choice do we have?”Gastonsaid.
I jumped withsurprise and felt the fool.
“I could not…” he began to continue as he turned to me until he saw where I stood. “Oh, were you asking the Gods? I amsorry.”
I gazed at himin the cruelmidday light. There were dark circles about his eyes after a night of sleeping with the drug. His hair needed trimming. He had not shaved. He already appeared as road-weary as I felt. Yet, he was beautiful. My breath caught and anold familiar ache filled mychest.
I smiled. “You are my answer,” I said quietly. “You follow me, I follow you. We are one, and my home is with you. The Gods spoke clearlyenoughthe first time I saw you.”

One Hundred Wherein We Scatter Before the Wind

Gaston and I found Cudro, Ash, Julio, and Striker at Sarah’s, sitting on the back porch listening to Pete while Chris stood inthe shade and out ofsight. The Strikers had also already loaded most of what they would take aboard the
Magdalene
. Now Sarah sat in a rocking chair nursing her son—who was less than a fortnight old—while ordering her two servants to pack the remainingitems and load themona donkeycart inthe yard.

Striker looked pleased to see us. “So we go,” he said. “The Bard and Dickeyhave alreadygone to the ship.”
“Liamwas sendingour first wave there as we left,”I said as we dismounted.
“We’llgo as soonas Sarahis ready,”he said.
“Who’s that?” Davey asked as he emerged from the house and saw Chris standingout ofsight ofthe others.
She reluctantlystepped forward.
“My cousin,” Gaston said with amusement. “He arrived withthe letter frommyfather.”
To my amusement and never-ending amazement—and Pete’s, apparently—none ofthe menrecognized her.
Women are not so blind, however. Sarah looked over
Women are not so blind, however. Sarah looked over and immediately knew her. “What in the name of God is she doinghere?”she demanded.
And thenthere was tensioninthe air.
“SheBeLearnin’TaShoot,”Pete chided.
“Truly? Well it seems she already knows enough of that: she shot Will!”Sarahsnapped.
“Nay!” Chris protested with her arms tightly crossed. “Not hardly:I did not killhim!”
I held up my hands in an unsuccessful attempt to calm the squawks ofsurprise and indignation fromthe men at the card

table. “Aye, it is she; she is here, and she is the least of our

troubles!”I finallyyelled.
“Do tell,”Sarahsaid coldlyinto the quiet that followed. “Is that reallyMiss Vines?”Ashasked withawe. “Nay,” I said firmly. “This is Christien Sable, Gaston’s

cousin. And even if she were not, she is Madame Sable and not Miss Vines.”

“She’s going with us?” Cudro asked with even more amazement.
I shrugged. “Aye.”
“Nay,”Sarahsaid.
“Oh Bloody Hell,” I snapped. “What else are we supposed to do withher?”
“Send her back on the ship on which she came,” Sarah

said. Chris stood her ground with stubborn desperation

etched across her features.
etched across her features.
“She causes nothingbut trouble,”Sarahadded. “She is mywife,”Gastonsaid withsome annoyance. Everyone quieted, evenSarah.
“She can sleep on deck,” I said. “We do not have time

to argue about this.”
“So you think they’ll come for him today?” Striker
asked.
“We cannot know,”I said.
“We’re going,” Cudro said amiably as he stood. “We’re
ready. There’s no reason to stay longer. We’ll just have to start
trading out old victuals the longer we stay. Our things are
aboard. Do youneed help at the house intown?”
I shrugged. “Most things are loaded, but aye, we are
short-handed inallthings these days.”
“Youshould have bought more servants,”Sarahchided. I sighed and did not reply.
Julio stood and ambled over. I knew something was
amiss by the sad look in his dark eyes. “Davey and I are

staying.”“Well damn, we will miss you,” I said and embraced

him. “Do youhave allyouneed?”
He nodded. “Striker sold us this place. We’ll be fine.
Better here thanFrance or England.”
I hoped he was correct. “Well, then, do you want a
horse? I onlyask that youtreat himwell.”
Julio grinned and patted Pomme’s nose with genuine
fondness. “I willcare for this horse to the end ofhis naturaldays,
Will. I canuse him.”He tapped the brace onhis ruined leg. “More than I did,” I said softly. “I am pleased you will
have a home ofyour own, and this fine horse.”
“It has beenanhonor,”Julio said.
Gaston came to embrace himand say his goodbyes, and
I was left withDavey looking at me fromthe steps. He appeared
sheepish.
Allthe times I had threatened to killhimfaded awaynow
that I knew I would probablynever see himagain.
“I willmiss you,”I said.
He smiled weakly. “Thank you, for all you’ve done for
me. Without you I would’ve been dead years ago on that damn

ship.” I nodded. “Youare welcome.”

“I’m glad we never fucked,” he said quietly and looked awaywithembarrassment.
I was surprised until I recalled that conversation on my voyage here. I chuckled. “Aye, it was for the best.”
He grinned. “Good luck.” And then he went to Gaston and said goodbye as well.
I turned away, withGaston’s talk ofboilingdistillations in my head. I would miss this New World. By the Gods I wished to returnhere someday.
Soon their donkey cart was loaded and everyone was preparing to go. Sarah regarded the house with tears in her eyes before turning away and walking resolutely down the road to the cove and the
Magdalene
.
Gaston and I decided to accompany them to the ship in order to determine ifAgnes and the others thought anything had beenmissed that we should fetchor purchase at the last minute.
Our arrival at the cove was greeted by happily barking dogs and the Bard’s cursing—all coming from the quarterdeck. We laughed and waved at them.
Agnes emerged from the cabin to yell at us on shore. “Did youcome fromthe road?”
“Nay,”I hollered back.
“They should be here by now. There wasn’t anything left,”Agnes called. “We brought the cart.”
“We willfetchthem,”I assured her.
As heavily laden as we were with all our weapons and bags, and now without a mount, I did not relish running into town.
I considered leaving our muskets, but there was a great dealofconfusionaround the longboat that was beingloaded with Sarah’s things.
“Do you think we will find our bags and muskets again if we ask someone to stow them?”I asked Gaston.
He appeared alarmed at the suggestionas his gaze swept over the chaos ofthe deck and longboat. “Let us keep them. We do not evenknow where we willbe allowed to sleep.”
“Oui,” I sighed and re-slung my musket to trudge to town.
Cudro, Ash, and Pete joined us.
“I want to see the town one last time,”Cudro said. “And they might be delayed because they discovered more things to bringthantheycould carry.”
I looked questioninglyat Pete.
“Bored,”he said.
“Where the hell are you going?” Striker bellowed from the longboat.
“I’llBeBack!” Pete yelled and scurried off ahead of us witha toddler’s mischievous grin.
ThenI saw Chris tailingalongbehind.
“Go back,”I said.
“I will not stay on a ship with those two without you two,”she snapped and pushed past us onthe trail.
I did not blame her.
“So how did Doucette die?” Cudro asked as we walked. “Pete didn’t get a chance to tellus before youarrived.”
I told them—including the part about Yvette’s pregnancy.
“Wait,”Cudro rumbled. “She is withchild?”
“Aye, mine, and before you ask, I never touched her, nor did I wishfor her to become pregnant.”
Ashlaughed. “Thenhow the devildid it happen?”
Gaston began to explain about syringes as we left the trail from the cove and joined the road into town. He was interrupted by Striker and Dickey bursting from the trail in our wake. Striker proceeded to chase his laughing matelot down the road as Dickeyjogged up to joinus.
“Forgot somethingintown,”Dickeygasped.
“Salve,”I teased.
We laughed whenDickeyflushed.
Our amusement was disrupted by the thunder of galloping hooves. Striker and Pete were almost run down by a youth on a horse. The boy pulled up and asked in French, “Are youcomingto townto catchthe murderer?”
“What?”Striker asked us withamusement.
“The new physician killed Doucette. They’re trying to arrest him,” the boy said with glee. “The militia is waiting at his house and theysent a ship to blockade his vessel.”
Slack-jawed as I was, I still pushed Gaston into the