Something stirred in the shadows and I put my hand on his sleeve. Surprised, he looked down. I was standing very close, and I liked it. “There’s somebody there,” I whispered, “near the ladder from the Texas deck.”
Maybe we had done all the wrong things, waiting out there until everybody else turned in. Being wishful of standing in the moonlight with him, I’d forgotten they might not wait for Cincinnati or anywhere. We were here, in the night and alone, and they were coming for us.
“I hope you can fight,” I whispered. “We’ve got it to do.”
They were between us and the main cabin, which would be empty at this hour. We were closer to the steps leading down to the main deck, where cargo was stowed. Minute by minute we were drawing closer to the Big Sandy. There was no way we could get off now without them knowing, but I had an idea they just intended to kill us both and throw us into the river.
They came out of the shadows, and there were not three of them, but five. They moved toward us, moving in a sort of half circle. None of them looked familiar. Horst must have hired himself some thugs.
Dorian Chantry spoke, and I must say he was cool enough. “Come, Miss Sackett, we must be going in. I promised the captain I would speak to him before I turned in.”
He took me by the elbow, but I withdrew it from his hand. Not that I did not like it, but I wanted my hands free for what was coming.
I’ll give him this. He did not stand waiting for invitations. Suddenly they rushed, and he stepped to meet them. He struck hard with a left and a right, and the man he hit went down.
A big sweaty, smelly man grabbed at me. “Now, little lady …!”
Two of them were swinging on Dorian and time was a-wasting. As that big man grabbed at me, I slid that pistol from my reticule and eared back the hammer.
He heard the click and seemed to catch himself in mid-stride. I let the hammer fall, there was an explosion, and that big man taken a quick, staggering step back, then fell against the rail.
Somebody, somewhere up on the Texas yelled, “What was that?”
There was a sound of running feet, and almost at once the attack broke off and those men just scattered.
“Was that a shot?” Dorian grabbed my arm as I slid the pistol back into the reticule. “Are you hurt?”
“Let’s get away from here,” I said.
The steamer was nosing in to the bank and I could hear men down below getting the rigging away to lower the stage. Swiftly we went down the ladder. The man Dorian had hit was struggling to get up; the man I’d shot was just lying there. People were coming from the main cabin as we disappeared down the steps to the bow.
As the stage lowered into place, we ran ashore. A big deckhand called out, “Hey? You folks! You can’t go ashore here!”
By that time we were in the shadows of a shed, and I heard Dorian’s friend Archie whisper, “This way, quick!”
There was a landing, a shed, and a road leading back into the country. We got into the darkness under some big old trees and stopped there, catching our breath.
There was confusion on the landing. Cargo had been waiting and there had been some heavy boxes waiting to be off-loaded. I heard somebody call out that a man had been shot.
“Thug,” somebody else said. “What’s he doing on this deck? He’s no passenger!”
“I think we had better move,” Archie whispered. “The further we get, the better.”
Glancing back, I could see, in the light from the stage, a tall man wearing a planter’s hat. He was looking off our way, although I knew he could not see us. It was Horst. There was a cluster of houses and barns, then a land that led away along the Big Sandy. As we moved away, the sounds from the Ohio receded. We stopped a couple of times to look and listen. Had we gotten away? I was not at all sure. Felix Horst was no fool, and he wanted the money I had.
Nobody had much to say, walking that muddy road up the Big Sandy, climbing a mite, passing a farm here or there. Dogs barked at us but nobody came to the doors, and it was graying sky before we fetched to a halt under a big old sycamore. One limb of it, big as the trunk itself, ran parallel to the ground and we sat on it, resting our feet.
“Maybe we could get horses,” Dorian suggested.
“A canoe,” I commented, “then we could take off up toward the forks of the creek.”
“That man back yonder?” Archie wondered. “Who could have shot him? One of his own crowd, maybe?”
“He didn’t seem to be dead,” Dorian commented. “I saw him trying to roll over when we went down the ladder.”
Me, I hadn’t any comment to make. My only worry was getting loaded again, and I was hopeful of recharging my pistol alone, where they could not see. No use them getting ideas, but it was my shot that broke the attack, coming unexpected like that, and alarming folks in the cabins.
“There’s a farmhouse,” Dorian suggested, “smoke coming from the chimney. We might buy some breakfast.”
“I’m for that,” Archie agreed.
“All right,” I said, “but we’d best not linger over coffee. We will have followers comin’ up the trail after us, and they won’t be bare-handed. They’ll come to fetch trouble this time.”
We walked down to the lane and spoke to the shepherd dog who came charging at us. I put a hand out to him and after a moment he sniffed it, then seemed to accept us, although he barked again from time to time as we come nigh the door.
That door opened and there was a man standing there who had to put his head outside to stand up, he was that tall. He had thin reddish hair and a large Adam’s apple.
“We’re travelin’ folks,” I said to him, “headin’ back for my own mountains, and these gentlemen are keepin’ the bears off my back whilst we walk. Right now we’re shy of breakfast.”
“Come in an’ set. Ma’s puttin’ on some sidemeat an’ corn fritters. Coffee’s a-bilin’. This here is fresh ground from our own parch. Never did take to lettin’ anybody else parch m’ coffee.”
He glanced at Archie, who had seated himself on the steps where he could watch the road. “He belong to you?”
“He’s a free man. Has never been any other way.”
“Then I’d warn him to get back across the Ohio. Some who come huntin’ escaped slaves aren’t pa’tic’lar who they lay hold of.”
“I’ll tell him. He’s a good man.”
“If he’s keepin’ watch for you all, tell him to set in the barn window. That way he can see a mile or two down the road.” He paused, glancing from me to Dorian. “You two runnin’ off?”
Dorian was embarrassed. “No, sir. Miss Sackett had business with my uncle and he wanted Archie and me to see she got home all right, to Tennessee. She’s been followed by some bad people.”
We ate, taking our time. I described Felix Horst, Tim Oats, and Elmer. “There’s others, but those three are the ones we know.”
“Your name is Sackett?”
“It is.”
“You got kinfolk in the Clinch Mountains? Seems to me I’ve heard tell of Sacketts down thataway.”
“Some. They’re cousins, sort of.”
I carried food to Archie. “We’d best be movin’, ma’am.” He glanced at me. “You know how we’re goin’?”
“Up the Sandy. If we could find a canoe, we’d move a lot easier.”
Dorian was up and ready. The sandy-haired man was watching him. “You need you a rifle-gun,” he said. “If those follerin’ you have a rifle-gun, they’ll pick you off.”
“Do you have one to sell?”
The man shook his head. “I’ve my own, but we can’t live without meat, and I shoot my meat. You might find one of the McCoys with an extry rifle-gun, although folks hereabouts only has what they need, mostly.”
“We’d better go.” Dorian held out his hand to the man, who accepted it. We thanked his wife and waved at the children and went out by the gate.
“They’re comin’,” Archie said, “a mile or two back. At least one of them has a rifle.”
That scared me. If that one could shoot, there would be places he could lay his rifle-gun on a rest and take out any one of us at a distance.
The trail followed the Big Sandy. We crossed a meadow wet with morning dew and went into the trees. It was shadowed there, and still. Dorian led the way, and he had a considerable stride.