The Enchanted Land Read online

  “Such spirit from one so little! Be careful, Golden Hair, or I may take special notice of you myself.” He turned and was gone.

  Morgan stood for a few seconds glaring at his back, her eyes blazing with hatred. Then she went into the hut and was soon asleep. For the first night since she had been taken from the Montoya ranch, she dreamed. She saw Seth in her dream, and she ran to him, her arms open. When she was close enough to see his eyes, they were sad and he turned his back on her and began to walk away. She called his name, pleadingly at first, and then her cries became more and more desperate.

  She awoke, her body drenched in sweat, to feel a hand pressed firmly over her mouth. “You’re all right now. I’ll take care of you. Just be quiet or they’ll hear you.”

  Morgan felt herself being cradled. It was good to have an older woman’s comforting arms about her. In the three days she had been a prisoner, she had paid little attention to her surroundings or to her fellow captives. Now she felt she desperately needed this woman’s comfort.

  The woman talked to Morgan as she held her. “My husband and my little boy and me lived up on the side of a mountain, about three days east of where they picked you up. It wasn’t an easy life. The winters were hard, and Bobby was always out with the sheep.” Her voice was toneless.

  “The three of us had just set down to eat when the door busted open and the Frenchman and two of his Indians walked in. Without a word, they killed Bobby and little Jimmy. He was only three years old.

  “They looked me over, like I was an animal. I made a jump for Bobby’s gun, not to kill them but to kill myself. I didn’t want to live after what they did to my baby. They caught me. So here I am.”

  “Why?” Morgan asked through her tears. “Who is this Madame Nicole? What does he want with us? Why doesn’t he just kill us? If he killed us, then I could be with Seth.”

  “Seth is your husband?”

  Morgan nodded.

  “I’m not sure, but I believe he deals in white slavery. He doesn’t keep all women.” She shuddered. “Only the ones who pass his inspection.”

  “A slave?” Morgan asked. “I don’t understand. You can’t sell white women.”

  “Well, it seems he can and is going to. I heard them mention San Francisco.”

  “Just be glad you’re little and pretty.” Morgan turned to another woman. Although it was dark in the hut, she knew the woman was young, with bright red hair—pretty in a brassy way. Her mouth was too wide to be really beautiful. “Her mother wasn’t so lucky.” She inclined her head to the girl in the corner, quietly sobbing. “They raped her mother and then killed her. The girl had to watch.” The girl in the corner was only about sixteen years old.

  “My name’s Jessica,” said the red-haired woman, “but everyone calls me Jessy.”

  “And I’m Mary,” said the woman who still held Morgan. It seemed understood that they would not use last names.

  Morgan murmured her own name.

  “Morgan? Strange name for a girl,” Jessy said. When Morgan held her silence, Jessy continued. “The girl over there is Alice.” She turned again to Morgan. “How’d they get you? What happened?”

  Mary interrupted Jessy’s questions. “Don’t bother her now, Jessy, she needs rest. It’s too soon for her to talk about it.”

  Jessy continued, “I can guess how you feel, but I figure for me anything’s better than my old man. They killed him, too, but I don’t feel no regret. In fact, I’m almost glad to be goin’ to San Francisco. Been itchin’ to go ever since I heard about the gold.”

  “Let’s go to sleep now.” Mary put an end to Jessy’s story. “They’ll want us to start soon enough. Let’s remember, though, that we’re in this together.”

  The next night they set up camp again. Morgan was beginning to be adept at taking apart and setting up a wickiup. The three women felt a good deal closer, and for the most part, they worked well together. The girl Alice still spoke to no one, and went about her work awkwardly. Morgan joined the other women in covering Alice’s errors and slowness.

  Morgan set the last bundle on the ground by the wickiup. As she straightened, she felt a hand on her hair. She knew it was one of the Indians. She had seen them staring at her as she hastily braided her hair each morning. In spite of herself, she felt a scream rising in her throat. As her mouth opened, a hand closed over it, a hand tasting of smoke and horses.

  Morgan felt her body shiver with fear. She did not like the Indians. They never showed any feeling.

  Gently, the Apache unfastened her braid and held the blond silk up to form a curtain that caught the sunlight. He uttered some guttural words and seemed pleased as he rubbed his hand in the softness of the hair.

  A shot rang out close to their feet. The Indian dropped his hands from Morgan and reached for his knife. She turned to see Jacques holding a rifle, aimed at the Apache behind her. The two men exchanged a few of the guttural sounds and the Apache turned and left, angrily.

  Jacques went to Morgan, her body shaking with fright. The Frenchman grasped the uncoiled braid of her hair and let it twine around his fingers.

  Her eyes holding his, she asked, “Where are you taking us? Why have you kidnapped me?”

  Still holding her hair, the Frenchman laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh. “I don’t like my women so thin, but with your eyes and hair a man could be tempted.” He moved his face closer to Morgan’s, and she instinctively moved back. “You ask me questions. I will answer them, ma petite. I dealt in furs for a while, but that is hard work. I met Madame Nicole and we worked out our business arrangement. I bring her pretty young women, and she pays me for them.” He smiled at Morgan’s shock.

  “You can’t sell people!”

  “Oh, but I can, little one. Madame Nicole finds unwilling women often please her customers more than the ones who readily agree to their whims. Bah! There are no real men left in this new country. I do not need to fight a woman to prove I am a man.

  “One thing … do not tempt me to anger, pretty one. Madame Nicole will pay me well for such a one as you. I would not like to lose the money.” Abruptly, he left her alone to stare after him.

  “I thought as much.” Jessy was standing beside her. “I’ve heard of some of these houses in San Francisco. A girl can live in luxury there.”

  Morgan turned to stare at Jessy. The events of the last few days were suddenly too much for her. Blindly, she began to run. She stumbled over dogs that ripped at her, but she hardly noticed. There was only one thought in her mind, one overwhelming desire—to escape, to get away from her captors. Reason had left her.

  She halted as Mary caught up to her, jerking her arm painfully. “Morgan! Stop it! Look around you. You can’t escape—they’ll kill you first.” Mary’s fingers bit into the flesh of Morgan’s upper arms. “Look at me and listen. This is not the way to escape. How long do you think you could survive in this land?”

  “I don’t care. I just want to get away. Even if it means my death, I can’t face going on without Seth. I can’t face what they have planned for us. I cannot.”

  Mary’s eyes were hard. “Of course, you can face it. No matter what they do, we are still alive, and we need to survive.”

  Morgan’s eyes had a faraway look as the tears quietly rolled down her cheeks. “Do you know what they plan to do with us? They plan to sell us as whores. Whores! Did you know that a few months ago I didn’t even know what that word meant? Now I am to become one! That’s funny, isn’t it?”

  Her voice grew louder. “Five weeks ago I was a virgin. Now…” She began to laugh loudly.

  Mary looked up to see the Indians surrounding them, pointing at Morgan. Behind them she saw Jacques making his way over to them, an angry scowl on his face. She began to shake Morgan. “Stop it! Stop it! You’ll cause more trouble if you call attention to yourself. Now come into the wickiup.”

  Morgan followed Mary, and the older woman was relieved to see the Frenchman turn and walk away from them.

  In the hut, Mary