North and South Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page A

the revolt, though the fight didn’t stop immediately. Charles was forced to shoot a second Indian, and King Sebastian killed another with his musket before the other four dragged the girl and the corpses away. The hair of one of the dead men scraped through the embers, smoked, and caught fire.
    Charles was trembling. He was sooty with dirt and powder, and spattered with the blood and brain from the first Indian’s head. For supper he had chewed pieces of heavily salted deer meat, which now refused to stay in his stomach.
    When he returned from the brush, he found an obviously shaken King Sebastian quirting the braves who were still alive. The half-breed had removed the three dead men from the chain, but he hadn’t bothered with the keys to the cuffs. He had used his knife. Somewhere out in the dark, huge black buzzards were already pecking at the corpses.
    The half-breed jerked the girl’s head up by the hair. “I think the bitch needs punishment, too.”
    For a moment, gazing down at the sagging bodice of her hide dress, Charles had a clear look at her brown breasts. The sight touched him. Her breasts looked ripe and full of life. Watching King Sebastian warily, she shifted position. The dress fell in place and hid her body.
    Charles caught the half-breed’s wrist in midair. In the firelight his blood-streaked face resembled a Cherokee brave’s painted for war.
    “You’re the one who needs punishment,” Charles said. “You’re the one who dozed on watch.”
    King Sebastian looked as if he might turn on his employer. Charles continued to stare at him. Although the girl didn’t understand the tall man’s French, she understood his meaning. She didn’t dare smile. But there was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.
    A minute passed. Another. The half-breed slapped at a gnat on his neck and looked away. And that settled it.
    Except that it didn’t. The incident had profoundly shaken Charles. Even after his watch, when King Sebastian again took over, he couldn’t fall asleep. The brush with death kept reminding him of his lack of sons. Three brothers had died in infancy. One sister had disappeared over the Pyrenees at the start of the time of trouble. He was the last of his line.
    When he finally fell asleep, he had strange dreams in which images of the fertile fields of the Cherokees were mixed with visions of the Indian girl’s breasts.
    Early the next afternoon they reached the trading station on the Cooper, one of two rivers named for Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, who was one of the original Proprietors.
    Jeanne was safe and well. She and Charles walked for half an hour on the riverbank. He kept his arm around her. She babbled childish things while they watched a white heron perch on one leg in the shallows. She deserved better than this. She deserved a fine house, the protection of servants.
    In the morning he made preparations to depart for the coast. He intended to leave around noon, with the Indians and some bundles of pelts he had accumulated to trade. On the trip to the secret vendue table he would, as always, avoid the main trails where he and his human contraband might be seen.
    A half hour before his departure, Jeanne came rushing into the post with excited cries. He could make no sense of her warnings, but King Sebastian soon appeared, looking frightened. The half-breed struggled to find the right words in French.
    “Who’s coming?” Charles interrupted. “Gentlemen? Nabobs? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
    The frightened Indian nodded and held up one hand with all the fingers extended. “Lot of them.” Charles’s bowels turned watery.
    They rushed the slaves to the outbuilding, which was constructed of palmetto logs and cypress planks. Frantically, Charles chained the four men and the girl in one of the pony stalls while King Sebastian tied rags around their mouths. If the prisoners made any outcry, the slaving operation would be discovered and he’d be lost.
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