into a cabin wall.
The impact sent showers of light sparking across Gabe’s vision and
waves of pain cascading through his skull. In addition to the sharp
crack of his head against wood—a sound very much like a bat striking
a baseball—Gabe heard an even more unlikely sound. The scream of a
woman on this steamboat packed with men.
He had no time to wonder at the source, however, for as he struggled
to rise with the intent of pounding Deming, the brilliant light inside
his head exploded into blackness. His knees buckled, and awareness
slid away.
Four
Away down South in the land of traitors,
Rattlesnakes and alligators,
Right away, come away, right away, come away.
Where cotton’s king and men are chattels,
Union boys will win the battles, Right away, come away, right away,
come away.
—anonymous,
from “Union Dixie”
The last thing Yvette meant to do was speak up for some Yankee.
She was heading toward the safety of her stateroom when she heard
loud voices. She barely recognized the young man who had earlier
introduced himself as Gabriel Davis when a wild-eyed scalawag spat
into his face. Yvette hadn’t heard their confrontation, but she saw in a
trice that her Mr. Davis was both outnumbered and a far better sort
than this ruffian. When Gabriel understandably swung at the man, his
attacker grabbed his wrist and slung him headlong into a cabin wall.
As Mr. Davis’s skull struck wood with a sickeningly solid bang,
Yvette shrieked angrily, “You leave that man alone!”
No one paid her any heed. Gabriel struggled to rise before
collapsing, but two men quickly hauled him to his feet. In the
warm light of the lantern, she saw dark rivulets of blood dripping
through his blond hair.
Just when she thought the two men had decided to redeem themselves
by helping their unconscious victim, the one who’d started the incident
hauled Gabriel closer to the rail. Her stomach clenched in horror as
she realized the man meant to throw him overboard.
An image flashed through Yvette’s mind: Marie, black hair waving
in the water, where she’d been discarded as if her life meant nothing.
She couldn’t let this happen to this man, wouldn’t let this happen to
another family.
The other fellow, a bit shorter and fuller in the face, grasped Gabriel
by the shoulder and hesitated.
“Much as he deserves it, you can’t just pitch him over. A man can’t
swim in his condition—”
“You think I give a damn?” The man’s dark gaze slid to lock with
Yvette’s and then back, as if she weren’t worthy of consideration.
“It’s murder, and I won’t be a party to it. I-I know his people.
They’ve already lost one son.”
The black-haired devil shoved his friend aside. “He shoulda died
already. God knows he’s got it comin’. And there ain’t a fellow here
who’ll say a damn thing if our runner-friend happens to slip off the
side, all accidental-like.”
Yvette scanned the men crowded around and realized with horrifying
certainty that the man was right. None would meet her eye. Several
turned their backs, perhaps pretending that if they didn’t see this
abomination, it would not exist. Did this bully so frighten them that
they meant to allow him to commit murder?
Outrage forced her to step forward. They might all be Yankees,
the same that she had wished dead, but she refused to stand by
idly and witness the death of a young man who’d treated her
kindly.
“I told you once, unhand him.” She said the words loudly,
hoping that a guard would hear and come to investigate. She
might be a Southerner, but she was also both a lady and a paying
passenger. Those two distinctions earned her the right to expect
protection.
She could hear her blood rush in her ears, and though she had to
struggle to control her shaking, she did not turn away. Wisely or not,
she was involved now, and she could not force herself to run.
“Only the basest of cowards would kill a helpless man. If you try to
do him further harm, I shall scream. I shall
The impact sent showers of light sparking across Gabe’s vision and
waves of pain cascading through his skull. In addition to the sharp
crack of his head against wood—a sound very much like a bat striking
a baseball—Gabe heard an even more unlikely sound. The scream of a
woman on this steamboat packed with men.
He had no time to wonder at the source, however, for as he struggled
to rise with the intent of pounding Deming, the brilliant light inside
his head exploded into blackness. His knees buckled, and awareness
slid away.
Four
Away down South in the land of traitors,
Rattlesnakes and alligators,
Right away, come away, right away, come away.
Where cotton’s king and men are chattels,
Union boys will win the battles, Right away, come away, right away,
come away.
—anonymous,
from “Union Dixie”
The last thing Yvette meant to do was speak up for some Yankee.
She was heading toward the safety of her stateroom when she heard
loud voices. She barely recognized the young man who had earlier
introduced himself as Gabriel Davis when a wild-eyed scalawag spat
into his face. Yvette hadn’t heard their confrontation, but she saw in a
trice that her Mr. Davis was both outnumbered and a far better sort
than this ruffian. When Gabriel understandably swung at the man, his
attacker grabbed his wrist and slung him headlong into a cabin wall.
As Mr. Davis’s skull struck wood with a sickeningly solid bang,
Yvette shrieked angrily, “You leave that man alone!”
No one paid her any heed. Gabriel struggled to rise before
collapsing, but two men quickly hauled him to his feet. In the
warm light of the lantern, she saw dark rivulets of blood dripping
through his blond hair.
Just when she thought the two men had decided to redeem themselves
by helping their unconscious victim, the one who’d started the incident
hauled Gabriel closer to the rail. Her stomach clenched in horror as
she realized the man meant to throw him overboard.
An image flashed through Yvette’s mind: Marie, black hair waving
in the water, where she’d been discarded as if her life meant nothing.
She couldn’t let this happen to this man, wouldn’t let this happen to
another family.
The other fellow, a bit shorter and fuller in the face, grasped Gabriel
by the shoulder and hesitated.
“Much as he deserves it, you can’t just pitch him over. A man can’t
swim in his condition—”
“You think I give a damn?” The man’s dark gaze slid to lock with
Yvette’s and then back, as if she weren’t worthy of consideration.
“It’s murder, and I won’t be a party to it. I-I know his people.
They’ve already lost one son.”
The black-haired devil shoved his friend aside. “He shoulda died
already. God knows he’s got it comin’. And there ain’t a fellow here
who’ll say a damn thing if our runner-friend happens to slip off the
side, all accidental-like.”
Yvette scanned the men crowded around and realized with horrifying
certainty that the man was right. None would meet her eye. Several
turned their backs, perhaps pretending that if they didn’t see this
abomination, it would not exist. Did this bully so frighten them that
they meant to allow him to commit murder?
Outrage forced her to step forward. They might all be Yankees,
the same that she had wished dead, but she refused to stand by
idly and witness the death of a young man who’d treated her
kindly.
“I told you once, unhand him.” She said the words loudly,
hoping that a guard would hear and come to investigate. She
might be a Southerner, but she was also both a lady and a paying
passenger. Those two distinctions earned her the right to expect
protection.
She could hear her blood rush in her ears, and though she had to
struggle to control her shaking, she did not turn away. Wisely or not,
she was involved now, and she could not force herself to run.
“Only the basest of cowards would kill a helpless man. If you try to
do him further harm, I shall scream. I shall
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