Wilderness Double Edition 23, page 10
Mateo was still slowly circling. The alligator was still turning with him. Its right side was toward Carlos, not its maw or its powerful sawtooth tail, and that must have been what the brothers had intended all along, because suddenly Mateo cried out and lunged, thrusting at the gator’s head. But it was only a feint, a trick to distract the alligator for the few heartbeats it took Carlos to spring in next to the reptile and shear his long knife up into its unprotected belly.
The alligator whipped around, but Carlos had already sliced it open and was backpedaling out of its reach. The gator started to come after him, and in so doing, exposed the underside of its neck to Mateo. Again cold steel flashed, and again a spreading stain tinted the water even darker.
Evelyn could not help but be impressed. The twins had fought as if they were one instead of two. Each seemed to know what the other would do before the other did it. Each was deadly in his own right; together, they were as lethal as the most lethal carnivore in all of Louisiana.
For by now the alligator was thrashing the water in its death throes. Mateo skipped back as its trail churned the water to a froth. Then, as calmly as if he were strolling along a city street, he wiped his knife clean on his pants, sheathed it, and casually strolled to his brother’s side.
“This one was slow.”
“Or perhaps we only thought they were faster when we were young,” Carlos said. “It is not as much fun as it used to be.” They turned, and Carlos said, “I thought I told you to run.”
Evelyn watched the alligator sink beneath the surface upside down. A flurry of bubbles marked the spot where it breathed its last. “You killed gators when you were boys?”
“We grew up near a swamp,” Mateo revealed. “Our father was a sharecropper, and we were always poor. To eat, we had to keep food on the table. We killed gators, and everything else that crawled, walked, swam, or flew.”
“Those were great days,” Carlos said fondly.
Evelyn gazed at each in turn. “And now you kill people for Athena Borke.”
“Our mistress, as she likes us to call her, is most generous,” Mateo said. “She pays us well for our services. Far better than anyone else ever has.”
“You’ll kill my brother if you have the chance, won’t you?”
“We already had the opportunity,” Carlos answered. “At the gangplank on the Astoria. But we let him live. It is our mistress’s wish he not be harmed until she decides the time is right.”
“If I had pistols, I would shoot you both,” Evelyn told them.
The twins each took her by an arm and headed her toward shore. “We believe you would, little one,” Mateo said. “That is why we respect you.”
“Sure you do.”
“I never lie,” Mateo said. “Most girls your age would have broke by now. They would weep and moan and beg and be terrified of our mistress and of us. They would never think to kill us, because they have never killed a soul. You could do it. We see it in your face. And we respect you for that.”
“I don’t want your respect,” Evelyn declared, but in a strange sort of way, she was highly flattered.
Carlos was sheathing his knife. “You misjudge us, child. When we kill, it is never personal, just our job.”
“If you’re telling the truth,” Evelyn clutched at a straw, “prove it. Let me go. No one will ever know you found me.”
“Do us the courtesy of treating us with the same respect we treat you,” Mateo said. “What kind of men would we be if we lied to our mistress and did not do as she commanded us?”
“We are not without honor,” Carlos remarked. “In that regard, we are no different from your brother.”
“What do you know about Zach?” Evelyn baited him.
“He killed Artemis Borke to uphold the honor of his people,” Carlos said. “He killed Phineas Borke to uphold the honor of his family. We would have done the same were we in his place.”
“Then how can you kill him if Athena tells you to?”
“Because our honor requires it,” Mateo said. “We have pledged our loyalty to her, before all else and all others.”
Evelyn’s legs were cold from her knees down, and her feet were coated with muck. “All I know is that I would never want anything to do with a woman who has no honor, and I am surprised you do.”
The twins glanced sharply at her, and Carlos said sternly, “That will be enough, little one. We respect you, yes. But we will not be insulted.”
They did not speak after that until they came to the pack and the handlers, and figures on horseback.
Athena Borke dismounted and walked up to Evelyn and flicked a fingernail across her chin. “You gave us quite a chase, my dear. I should whip you within an inch of your life, but you would fetch a lower price.”
“Don’t touch me,” Evelyn said.
Palantine had a cape over his shoulders and a sword at his hip, and he sat his horse as one who was not comfortable in the saddle. “If you ask me, Athena, you are too lenient with the brat. Give her to me for an hour, and when I am done she will never talk back to you again.”
“You were never one for subtlety, Edmund.”
They had brought a spare horse. Mateo boosted Evelyn into the saddle. Then he and his brother mounted and hemmed her between them.
“So you don’t get any more foolish ideas into that silly head of yours,” Athena said. “Now let’s get back. You need to rest so you will be bright and fresh for the auction tomorrow.”
“Auction?” Evelyn said.
“Why, yes, child. It’s Edmund’s idea. We are inviting some of the richest people in New Orleans to bid for the right to do with you as they please. Once we have your brother, of course, I want him to have a front-row seat, as it were.”
“Zach is too smart for you. You won’t catch him,” Evelyn declared.
Athena Borke laughed.
Thirteen
The warren of dark passageways was as confusing as ever. Zach King had been wandering them for what must have been a quarter of an hour, fruitlessly seeking Charlotte, when he rounded a corner and nearly collided with May Ling, who had her back to him. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where did she get to?”
May Ling’s long dress rustled as she turned. She had her small hands folded in front of her. “Do you mean your friend, young Charlotte? She left an hour ago.”
“But she said she would help—” Zach began to blurt, and stopped himself. He had been a fool to think he could rely on her.
“Very few are still here,” May Ling mentioned.
Zach had seen that for himself. Scarcely six occupied bunks in the whole place. “I would like to leave, too.” He could not bring himself to admit he could not find his way out, but she understood.
“Follow me, please.”
“Have you ever heard of a woman named Athena Borke?” Zach asked as they navigated the twisting turns and bends. Since he couldn’t count on Charlotte, he would find Borke himself.
“The name is not familiar,” May Ling said. “But many who come here do not use their real names.”
“Why not?” Zach had, when Charlotte introduced him. “Madame Chou’s establishment, and the many others like it in the city, are not viewed with favor by some high in authority. They want to close such establishments and deport all Celestials.”
Zach vaguely remembered that some people referred to the Chinese in that manner. After what he had seen, he was inclined to agree with those who thought opium dens were a vice, not a virtue, but he did not say so.
“I confess I do not understand why,” May Ling went on. “Those who indulge in our services are never violent or quarrelsome like those who drink too much at taverns and saloons. Opium quiets the passions. It does not excite them.”
She had a point there, Zach conceded, but lying on a bunk for hours staring endlessly off into space like a human vegetable did not strike him as natural. “Do you smoke opium yourself?”
“Oh, never. Madame Chou does not allow it.”
The same Chinese man was on duty. He cheerfully returned Zach’s weapons, bowing as he did so. Zach was wedging his pistols under his belt when someone rapped on the door in the same series of knocks Charlotte had used. The man quickly opened the small slot, closed it, and opened the door.
Daylight spilled inside, the sun so brilliant, Zach squinted against the glare. A black man in a costly suit and polished boots came in and removed his high hat.
A free black, Zach figured, not one of the many slaves that made up a large percent of the city’s population. Slaves could not afford such fine clothes.
“Is Madame Chou here?” the black asked May Ling. “I have a message for her.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Frayne. She retired a while ago.”
“It’s important,” Frayne said. “I was roused out of bed at four this morning and instructed to visit all the dens on this side of the city and speak to the proprietors in person so they can spread word to their customers.” He had not paid much attention to Zach, but he did so now, and blinked a few times. Then, smiling broadly, he said, “We don’t often see frontiersmen in a place like this. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
Zach told him.
“Jack Frayne, at your service,” the black man said in the typical courtly fashion of a New Orleans gentleman.
“And what do you do, Mr. Frayne?” Zach idly asked, sheathing his Bowie.
“I work for one of the richest men in the city,” Frayne divulged. “I and several associates are what you might call his lieutenants.”
It occurred to Zach that Athena Borke was ungodly rich, as well, and that rich people tended to travel in the same social circles. “Have you by any chance ever met a woman named Athena Borke?”
Frayne pursed his lips. “No, I can’t say as I have. Is she a friend of yours, Mr. King? If I am not being too personal.”
“Someone I must find,” Zach said, and got out of there. He had to shield his eyes with a hand until they adjusted to the bright morning sun. At the end of the street, he paused, debating what to do. He was upset with himself for sleeping the night away. He remembered the glimpse he had of Evelyn on the Astoria, and was flooded with fresh guilt.
The day had barely begun and the narrow streets were largely deserted. Zach went in the general direction of the waterfront. Athena Borke had tried to escape by boat once. She might try again. He would find a list of departures and visit every ship leaving for New York City.
Zach had gone only a few blocks when feet pattered behind him and the last person he expected hollered, “Hey! Wait up!”
Charlotte was out of breath from running, and she was angry. “Why did you go off and leave me like that? I thought we were partners? You’re lucky I found you.”
“May Ling told me you had left.”
“I was with Madame Chou. She told May Ling we weren’t to be disturbed for any reason.”
“So May Ling lied?” Zach said in disgust. She had seemed so nice, so sincere. If nothing else, it was a reminder never to trust a city dweller, white or any other hue, as far as he could throw them.
“She was only doing what was expected of her. But that’s neither here nor there.” Charlotte yawned and scratched herself and announced, “I’m hungry enough to eat a cow. What do you say we have our breakfast, then go find that sister of yours?”
“I am not hungry,” Zach said.
“Well, I am, and I think you are too, but you’re too mulish to admit it.” Charlotte hooked her warm arm through his. “We’ll do better on a full stomach than an empty one. And I know a place not far from here that serves delicious breakfasts. Come on.”
Zach let her lead the way. She was bubbling with vitality, a far cry from the sluggish sloth of the night before. “You are different today.”
“I’m always starved and raring to go after a night at a den.” Charlotte smoothed her plain dress and adjusted the flower in her hair. “How do I look, handsome?”
“Fine,” Zach said. In truth, she was quite pretty, but he did not dwell on that. He thought of his wife instead. “Don’t you worry, Buckskin. We’ll find your sister. Someone is sure to have heard of that Borke woman. After we eat, we’ll ask around at all the best hotels. A woman like her wouldn’t stay in just any old dump.”
“I have already asked around at them,” Zach said. It was one of the first things he did on reaching the city.
“No offense, but I might be able to loosen lips you couldn’t. That scowl of yours would scare most people into clamming up.”
The restaurant was dingy and dusty and packed. Charlotte squeezed into a corner booth and patted the seat beside her. “Plant yourself, Buckskin.”
Zach would rather not sit so close to her, but all the other seats were taken. When the harried waitress finally came to take their order, he said, “I’ll have coffee and toast.”
“You call that a meal?” Charlotte scoffed. “He’ll have three eggs and ham and potatoes, and I’ll have the same.”
“You take many liberties,” Zach observed after the waitress left.
“Do I? Well, one of us has to or you would starve yourself to death.” She patted his hand. “You need to learn to relax more. To enjoy life.”
“You wouldn’t say that if it was your sister who was missing.”
“I’m sorry, Buckskin. I keep forgetting she’s all you can think about. I don’t blame you, though. You love her, and that says a lot about your character.” Charlotte had not taken her hand off his, and now she gave a little squeeze. “I wish I had someone who cared for me as much as you do for Evelyn.”
“She’s my sister. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Hell, Buckskin. I’ve known a lot of brothers and sisters who hated each other’s guts. I always thought they were stupid. I mean, here I am, with no family at all. I’d give anything to have a relative. Brother, sister, cousin, aunt, I wouldn’t care.”
“You don’t know where any of your relatives are?” Zach asked.
“Not a one. I can’t rightly go back to the orphanage to check their records after I ran off on them. They would throw me in a room and throw away the key. They never did like me much. Claimed I was too troublesome.”
“I could go to the orphanage and check for you,” Zach offered, and quickly qualified it by adding, “After we find Evelyn, that is.”
Charlotte’s face grew soft and rosy. “You would do that for me? Honest to God?”
“Why not? You are helping me. It is only fair.”
“Well, now,” Charlotte said softly, and looked down at her lap. “They have any more like you back in the mountains? Someone who isn’t married, maybe?”
Zach thought of his neighbors, if they could be called that. Five families stretched over a hundred miles, each isolated from the rest of the world by high peaks and endless plains. “All the ones I know are married. The white ones, anyway.”
Charlotte let go of his hand and grinned. “I doubt I’d make a good Indian. I hear they live in houses made of stinky buffalo hides and are filthy with fleas and lice.”
Someday Zach would like to meet whoever had come up with that falsehood. She wasn’t the first one to mention it. “Their houses are called lodges and they are as clean as any white house. And Indians wash and comb their hair just like white people.” He did not tell her that some used a mix of bear fat and urine to make their hair shiny.
“Don’t get touchy on me,” Charlotte said. “I was repeating what folks say. I have nothing against Indians. If I did, I wouldn’t be helping you.”
They talked about the Shoshones. She asked a hundred and one questions, each answer provoking a new one. He was grateful when their food arrived, and amazed at how she tore into hers like a starving wolf into an elk. She finished before he did, and he was hurrying so they could get out of there that much sooner.
“Now we’re ready to pound the streets,” Charlotte said, contentedly rubbing her belly.
She paid and they stepped out into the mid-morning glare. Conscious that the police were probably still after him, Zach glanced both ways and saw someone at the far end of the street, peering at them from around a corner. He had a definite impression of a black face and a high silk hat, and then the man ducked back. “Do you know a man called Frayne?”
Charlotte was gazing into a window, fiddling with her hair. She repeated the name a couple of times. “Can’t say as I do, no. Why?”
“He followed us here from Madame Chou’s.” Zach took her arm and they walked past the restaurant and turned into another of the city’s endless narrow side streets with sidewalks barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. “Don’t look back,” he cautioned when she started to twist. “We don’t want him to know we are onto him.”
“Maybe Ricard sent him,” Charlotte said, her voice tinged with fear.
“You mentioned him before. Who is he?” Zach felt her stiffen. She did not answer right away, and when she did, she sounded angry he had asked.
“I thought you would have figured it out. He’s my pimp.” Charlotte looked at him. “You never visited an opium den before last night. You’ve never heard of pimps. But I guess given where you’re from, that’s understandable.”
“A pimp hires women to have sex with other men?”
“Hires them isn’t exactly the right word. Forces them, is more like it. I was doing fine on my own, but I was in Ricard’s territory and he sent his bullies to fetch me so he could explain how things are. They broke one of my fingers and would have done worse, but I agreed to go to work for him, so he set me up in that apartment building with a bunch of his other girls. I’ve been there four months, hating every minute. I wanted out in the worst way. Then you came along.”
Zach thought she was giving him too much credit. “If you didn’t want to work for this Ricard, why didn’t you go to the police?”
The suggestion spurred a loud snort. “And have them laugh in my face? Do you honestly think they give a damn? To them I’m nothing but a whore. Besides, half the police force is on the take. They wouldn’t haul Ricard into court. They would haul me in. Or throw me back to him to be beaten to death and dumped in the river. I’d rather go on breathing, thanks.”
