Shaman Part 38

"No!" Nancy cried. "Auguste, you're not well enough to go anywhere. And, Father, I told you what happened at the funeral. We've got to help Auguste. If you speak, people will listen."

"I don't know the rights and wrongs of it," said Hale, looking irritated, presented with a problem he did not want to try to solve.

Auguste said, "My father wanted me to inherit Victoire. There are witnesses. There are two copies of his will, if Raoul hasn't already destroyed them."

Reverend Hale glowered at Auguste. "What if Raoul de Marion's men come looking for you?"

Suddenly, as when facing Raoul at the gateway to Victoire, Auguste felt terribly alone. Nancy would do anything she could for him; after seeing her loving look when he awoke he was sure of that. But there was little enough she could do. Especially because of the way her father so obviously felt about him.

"I'll be gone as quick as I can, Reverend Hale."

"If they come here while Auguste is here you'll have to tell them he's not here and refuse to let them in," said Nancy firmly.

"Lie to them? I'm not a Jesuit."

"Father! Would you let Auguste be killed?"

The word "killed" set a storm of frightful thoughts whirling through Auguste's head. Raoul's pistol had been pointed right at his chest. And Greenglove had tried to brain him. They wouldn't stop until they had killed him. Only then would Raoul be secure in his possession of Victoire. Dazed and hurting though he was, Auguste had to get out of Smith County if he was to live another day.

Hale turned and went back to his own room, shaking his head.

"Your father is no friend to me," said Auguste.

Nancy's face was like a lake whose surface was troubled by a wind. "He's very strict. He didn't go to your father's funeral because it was a Catholic service. But if anything happens he'll do the right thing. You can count on him for that."

Auguste said nothing. But he didn't share her confidence.

Early that evening, Auguste, Nancy and Reverend Hale were sitting in the front room of the Hales' one-story house. They had eaten a rabbit stew with potatoes, onions and beans from the Hales' garden and hominy grits on the side that Nancy had pounded from corn. They washed it down with fresh-squeezed apple cider.

"I allow no spiritous liquors in my home," said Reverend Hale.

Now that it was dark Auguste wanted desperately to be off to see Grandpapa at Nicole and Frank's house. The old man had been badly hurt.

He might be dying.

By candlelight Hale read the Bible aloud to Nancy and Auguste. It was his nightly custom, Nancy explained.

Auguste heard the soft clip-clop of a horse's hooves and the creak of carriage wheels and raised a hand to alert the others.

Putting a finger to her lips, Nancy went to the door. She opened it a crack, then pulled it wider and went out.

"Who is it?" Hale called anxiously.

His heart pounding, Auguste was on his feet, looking for a weapon or for a place to hide.

No answer came from Nancy, but a moment later she came back, one arm around another woman's shoulders, supporting her. A blue kerchief covered the woman's head.

"Who is this?" Hale said again.

"Bon soir, Reverend Hale. Forgive me for disturbing you."

It was a moment before Auguste recognized the battered, swollen face of Marchette. One of her eyes had been blackened this morning, but now there were ugly bruises around both eyes, her whole face was swollen and her lips were cut and puffed.

Heartbroken at the sight of her, Auguste rushed to the cook and took her hands in his.

"Marchette! What happened to you?"

"I cried very much when you and Monsieur Elysee were hurt today, Monsieur Auguste. Armand did not like this, and he beat me. It _looks_ very bad, but he did not beat me hard, Monsieur. Whoever Armand beats hard, dies. But I resolved to do something for you. Monsieur Raoul, he had barrels of Kaintuck whiskey carted up to the chateau. Many guests and servants got very drunk. After a while Armand was lying on the floor beside the table, so then I went to fetch your things. Your trunk was unlocked, and I gathered up your clothes and books and put them in it and locked it. I had Bernadette Bosquet, the fiddler's wife, she is my friend, help carry your trunk down to the carriage."

Auguste felt as if a sudden bright light had flooded his room. His medicine bundle had been in the trunk. And his surgical instruments.

They were safe.

He jumped up from the table. A throb of pain went through his head, and he felt dizzy and had to cling to the table for support. Marchette's eyes widened in alarm, and she put her hands out to him.

Recovered after a moment--and feeling much better now than he had a few hours ago--he took Marchette's hands in his.

"I can't tell you how much this means to me, Marchette. There were things in my trunk--sacred things--very important to me. Very precious.

I thank you a thousand times."

Her swollen lips parted in a half smile. She reached into a pocket in her ap.r.o.n and brought out a large pocket watch gleaming a dull gold.

Then she took out a familiar oval silver case with a velvet ribbon.

"These were your father's, monsieur. I believe he would wish that you have them."

Auguste opened the case and saw the round lenses for only a moment as his eyes blurred. He put his hand over his face and held it there until he no longer felt like weeping. Then he looked at the engraving on the watch--"Pierre Louis Auguste de Marion, A.D. 1800"--and his eyes filled up with tears. This, he thought, should go into his medicine bundle with the other sacred objects.

"Where were Raoul and Greenglove when you took my trunk and things in the carriage?"

"Before Armand got drunk, Monsieur Raoul made him look through Monsieur Elysee's room for the paper that says you are to inherit the estate.

Armand found it and gave it to your uncle, and he threw it into the fire while Armand and Eli Greenglove watched and laughed. Then Monsieur Raoul, he got into a most furious argument with Eli Greenglove about Greenglove's daughter. They nearly fight, but I think they are afraid of each other. They are both great killers. So finally they went down to town. Monsieur Raoul agreed to bring his woman, Greenglove's daughter, and the two boys to the chateau."

"Disgraceful!" snorted Reverend Hale. "Publicly living in sin."

"I wonder why he didn't bring them to the funeral?" Nancy said.

Auguste thought he knew why. Clarissa Greenglove had been a pretty, full-bosomed girl when he first arrived at Victoire. But in the years during which she had borne two boys to Raoul, she had turned into a lank-haired, snuff-sniffing slattern. Years ago Raoul had said he was going to marry Clarissa, but he never had. And Auguste had seen Raoul bending a hungry look on Nancy throughout the funeral ma.s.s this morning.

The thought of Raoul laying even a hand on Nancy angered him. It would anger Eli Greenglove, too, for a different reason.

Eli Greenglove, it was said, could shoot the wings off a fly one at a time at fifty yards and was wanted in Missouri for over a dozen murders.

He might take orders from Raoul, but it would not do for Raoul to offend such a man. So if Eli persisted, Raoul probably would take Clarissa into the chateau.

Auguste felt a sinking in his stomach as he touched his fingers lightly to his throbbing head. He was alive now only because Greenglove had chosen to hit him instead of shooting him down--or instead of letting Raoul have that pleasure.

"Will you stay the night, Marchette?" Nancy asked.

"No, I must go back to the chateau before Armand wakes up. Otherwise he will beat me worse."

"I'm going with you," said Auguste.