Sweet Release (8 page)

The boy’s other pocket began to squirm, and Alec heard a tiny, muffled meow.

“What have you there, lad?”

Jamie pulled out a fuzzy gray-and-white kitten so young its eyes had not yet opened.

“What a pretty kitten. But this little one needs her mother.”

“She’s mine!”Jamie replied, clutching the kitten possessively to his chest.

“Aye, she’s yours, but she’s still too little to leave her mother. Without her, she’ll die.”

The boy looked at Alec, then down at the kitten, curls bobbing.

“Where did you find her?”

Jamie wrapped a dirty hand around one of Alec’s fingers and led him toward the stall from which he’d appeared.

Cassie was both relieved and disappointed to see that Cole had left the courtyard when she went outside a short time later. The lump on her head still ached, but not half as much as her pride. Twice she’d made a fool of herself in front of that dreadful man. It would not happen again. It would not.

Charlie had finished his story about Pocahontas and was telling another about Captain Kidd and Skeleton Island. Jamie, who would never willingly miss the telling of this tale, was still nowhere to be found. Apprehension quickened her steps.

“Nan, have you seen Jamie?” she asked, entering the cookhouse. Elly stood grumbling over a washtub of dishes, while Nan plucked the chicken that would become the family’s evening meal.

“Nay, missy. I haven’t seen him since he came by to wheedle a tart out of me about an hour ago. Run off again, has he?”

“Aye, he has.” How could it be so difficult to keep an eye on one tiny child? “Have you seen him, Elly?”

Elly shook her head peevishly.

“Eleanor!” Nan snapped.

Elly’s spine stiffened at the sound of her full, Christian name.

“What?”

“Work is a blessing, child,” Nan scolded her. “Idle hands brew trouble. Now run and find Master Jamie.”

Elly nearly flew out the door.

“Teach that girl her place, I will,” Nan grumbled.

“If anyone can, Nan, you can.” Cassie laughed. “I’m going to check with Takotah. I found Jamie asleep in her lodge last time he disappeared.”

“Then you’ll want to take some bread and cider for your father.” Nan laid the chicken aside, then rapidly put together a basket of victuals and handed it to Cassie.

Cassie hurried to Takotah’s lodge, calling for Jamie as she went. Inside, Takotah was hanging bundles of plants upside down to dry.

“He is not here,” she said before Cassie could ask. “Did you check the cookhouse?” Takotah knew Jamie well.

“Aye, but Nan hasn’t seen him either.” Cassie was genuinely worried now. She placed the basket of food next to the Indian woman’s hearth. “How is Father?” She had been so busy, she had not been to visit him in two days.

“He is unchanged. He talks to your mother’s spirit, but he eats well.”

It was the answer Cassie had expected, but hoped not to hear.

“How is the new man?” Takotah asked.

“The convict?” Cassie sniffed in annoyance. “He is the most awful, bothersome man I’ve ever known.”

Takotah smiled, the tattoos on her cheeks and chin seeming to come alive as she did. “He is also very handsome, is he not? And strong.”

Cassie stammered for a response, wishing she could disagree, but the direction her thoughts had taken lately made an honest answer impossible.

“Micah says he is not to be trusted, and I agree,” she said at last, failing to mention that Micah had been surprised and pleased by Cole’s quick learning and his willingness to work. Takotah smiled, but said nothing.

If she hadn’t been so worried about Jamie, Cassie would have been irritated by this. But, genuinely afraid now, she barely noticed and turned to leave with a muttered farewell.

Even before she reached the cookhouse, Cassie could see something was terribly wrong. Micah stood in the courtyard holding his flintlock, deep in conversation with Zach and the other men. Nan was pacing to and fro, wringing her hands on her apron. Elly was fidgeting nervously. Redemptioners and slaves stood together, whispering among themselves.-Then they saw her and grew silent. Her skin crawled.

Nan ran toward her as fast as her plump old legs could carry her. “Oh, missy. He’s gone!”

Chapter Five

Cassie’s heart stopped. “Jamie?”

Dear God, what did Nan mean by “gone”?

“No! Well, aye!” the cook stammered. “But the convict is missin’, too! He’s run off, he has!”

“Oh, God!” Her brother was lost, and now no one could find the convict? If anything had happened to Jamie, she would never forgive herself. It was she who was entrusted with the boy’s care, and it was she who had brought the felon to live among them. Why, oh, why had she taken such a risk?

“Most likely he’ll be usin’ the boy as a hostage,” Micah said, looking a decade older than when she’d last seen him this morning. “Luke says Braden was with them till the noon meal. When he and Zach finished, the convict was gone.”

“I can’t believe Cole would hurt the boy,” Zach said.

“He won’t.” Everyone looked toward Luke. The man had hardly spoken since his arrival on the plantation. “He’s not that kind of man.”

“Where have you looked?” The steadiness in Cassie’s voice belied the panic that flowed through her veins like poison. Her brother could be killed—or worse. She had heard stories of men who did things to children, indescribable things. If Mr. Braden had no qualms about ravishing women, then perhaps . . .

“We’ve checked everywhere, missy,” Nan said.

“He can’t have gotten too far. Zach and I are goin’ to saddle upand ride with the men along the riverbank,” Micah said. “It’s harder to make good time through the forest, especially with a child. If he’s as smart as he seems, Braden will use the river to keep his sense of direction. He’ll be headin’ for a port town. If we find no sign of him, we’ll check along the road to Fredericksburg.”

“I’ll do that,” Cassie said.

The men stared at her but said nothing.

“You can’t expect me to sit here while some convict drags Jamie through the countryside. Besides, we can’t afford to lose time.”

“What’re you gonna do if you find him?” asked Micah.

“I’ll take Father’s pistol. I know how to use it.”

“Miss Cassie ...” Micah shook his head.

“I have to do something. If no one will join me I’ll go alone, but I’ll not sit by while Jamie’s life is in danger!”

“I’ll help,” Nate called from somewhere in the crowd.

“Count me in,” Tom added from behind her.

Other voices called out their willingness to join her. The sound of an approaching rider interrupted them.

“Oh, no.” Cassie buried her face in her hands. Of all the times he could have chosen to call.

“Bloody hell,” Zach grumbled none too quietly, echoing her thoughts.

Micah, who by law could not carry a firearm, handed the flintlock to Zach.

Geoffrey Crichton rode up on his roan gelding and pulled to a stop in the courtyard. The powdered wig he’d chosen to wear over his blond hair looked positively silly. He hopped down from the horse and strutted through the crowd toward Cassie, his exaggerated gait an ill disguise for his limp.

“Catherine.” He bent to kiss her hand. “Is something amiss?”

She hated to involve him in Blakewell affairs. The less he knew, the safer they all were. Not that Geoffrey was a bad sort, really. He simply didn’t know how to mind his own business. He’d never approve of her running the estate, and Cassie had gone to great lengths to keep him from discovering the truth. He’d made it clear many times that he believed docility in women a virtue. But there was no way to keep her brother’s disappearance a secret, not when they’d be crossing other planters’ lands to find him, and she had an obligation to warn the neighbors that the convict was at large.

“Jamie is missing.” She braced herself for his reaction. “And the convict is gone.”

“Indeed.” Geoffrey calmly flicked the lace at his wrists. “It’s no surprise. My father and I were afraid something like this would happen, especially with your father away.”

“Micah is taking some men along the river. I will lead a party along the road to Fredericksburg.”

Geoffrey looked at Micah with open contempt. She knew he viewed all men with dark skin as slaves. In his mind there were no exceptions.

“If your blackamoor would provide me with a fresh mount, I will gladly lead the second party. This is no job for a woman, and I do have some experience in tracking runaways,” he said, adjusting his leather gloves. “If you could dispatch a messenger to Crichton Hall, I’m sure my father would gladly lend you the use of his hounds and some of his men.”

Cassie bristled at his thoughtless dismissal of both her and Micah but said nothing. Now was not the time. She needed Geoffrey’s help. Her brother’s life was at risk.

“Thank you, Geoffrey.” One of the field hands took Geoffrey’s gelding and led it to the stables.

Geoffrey began barking orders to the assembled men. “Missy! They’re in here!” the field hand shouted, motioning to the stable.

Cassie lifted her skirts and ran, sickened by the taste of her own fear, oblivious to those who followed her.

“Jamie!” she cried.

Inside, she saw Cole and Jamie emerging from the far stall. If he had touched so much as a hair on Jamie’s head . . . But Jamie looked unhurt, unafraid. Cole looked puzzled, his brows drawn together in a confused frown. Rather than holding a homemade knife or some other crude weapon to her brother’s throat, as Cassie had expected, Cole was cuddling a newborn kitten against his bare chest. Astonished and unable to breathe, Cassie could do nothing more than stare.

Alec had just begun to explain to Jamie how cats bathed their kittens with their tongues when the stable doors had burst open and a crowd had rushed in. Foremost among them were Miss Blakewell, who looked wan and frightened, Micah, the overseer, Zach, who was carrying a flintlock, and an absurdly dressed man who strode into the stable as if he owned it.

“What in the hell is going on?” Alec looked from one angry face to the next.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Zach said grimly.

The overdressed fop glared at the sawyer. “I’ll ask the questions,” he said, as if this were a play and Zach had stolen his line. “Come here, felon, and don’t touch the boy.”

Comprehension rushed through Alec, leaving him stunned. He felt his gorge rise.

“We’ll talk more about ships and kittens another time. Move along, lad,” he said with a calmness he did not feel. Slowly, so as not to alarm anyone, he placed the kitten he had been holding in the straw, where its nervous mother quickly retrieved it.

“Guess what! He builds ships. Real big ones!” Jamie said, apparently unaware of the tense drama that centered on him.

Alec watched as the boy raced to his mother, who scooped him up and hugged him as if her life depended on it. Silent tears spilled down her cheeks. He felt something twist in his stomach.

“Only a monster would hurt a child.”

Alec wanted somehow to comfort her. He met her gaze and held it. Her eyes were as green as a meadow in spring, and he found himself reaching to brush a tear from her cheek.

The sharp sting of a riding crop across his chest stopped him.

“Keep your distance from Miss Blakewell, convict!” said the fop, who stood rigidly, riding crop gripped tightly in a gloved fist. It took every ounce of will Alec possessed not to strike the man in the middle of his pretty face.

“Geoffrey Crichton!” Miss Blakewell cried. “Here, we do not strike our servants!”

“Of course.” The dandy bowed stiffly. “Forgive me.”

So this was Fancy-Pants. No wonder Zach disliked the man. He was a pompous ass. Alec exchanged a knowing glance with Zach, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Braden. Master Crichton sometimes forgets himself.”

Miss Blakewell sent Crichton a scathing look.

Alec saw a muscle twitch angrily in the fop’s cheek as her comment struck home and felt a grudging respect for Miss Blakewell. No doubt many men cowered before this fool, yet she had insulted him without worry.

“I’ll get salve for your wound,” she said.

He looked down to see an angry red welt spanning his chest.

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Blakewell, but it’s nothing.” The worry in her lovely eyes seemed genuine. It was almost enough to make him forget for a moment who she was, who she thought he was. Almost.

“Everybody back to work.” Micah led the curious gawkers away from the stable. “Everything’s fine. Just a misunderstandin’. Back to work.”

“Nan, take Jamie to the cookhouse, please,” Miss Blakewell said, giving the lad one last hug and kiss before putting him down. “And this time, young man, stay where I can see you, or I’ll take a switch to your backside!”

“Eleanor! I thought you said you checked the stables,” Nan chided Elly on their way out.

“I did!”

“Ye did a bloody poor job of it!”