George Martin - Fevre Dream

Toby made a sound of disgust, and Sour Billy eyed him warily. “Keep that damn nigger cook away from me! Him and that cleaver, you keep ’em away.”

“On your goddamn feet,” Marsh said. He looked over to Joshua, who was holding a hand against his forehead. “You all right?”

“The sun,” York said wearily. “We have to hurry.”

“Others,” said Marsh. “What about Karl Framm? He still alive?”

Joshua nodded, “Yes, and others, but we can’t free them all. We don’t have the time. This has taken too long as it is.”

Abner Marsh frowned. “Maybe so,” he said, “but I ain’t leaving without Mister Framm. Him and you are the only ones can pilot this steamer. If we take both of you, she’ll be stuck here, until we can come back.”

Joshua nodded. “He’s guarded. Billy, who is with Framm now?”

Sour Billy had struggled to his feet. “Valerie,” he said, and Marsh remembered that pale form and beckoning violet eyes, drawing him down into the darkness.

“Good,” said Joshua. “Hurry.” And then they were moving, Marsh keeping a wary eye on Sour Billy, Toby concealing his weapons within the folds and pockets of his coat. Framm’s cabin was up on the texas, but around on the far side of the boat. The window was curtained and shuttered, the door locked. Joshua shattered the lock with a single short blow of his hard white hand, and pushed it open. Marsh crowded in after him, pushing Sour Billy before him.

Framm was fully clothed, lying face down on the bed, dead to the world. But next to him a pale form sat up and stared at them from wide angry eyes. “ Who… Joshua?” She rose from the bed swiftly. Her nightdress fell in white folds around her. “It’s day. What do you want?”

“Him,” said Joshua.

“It’s day, ”Valerie insisted. Her eyes lingered on Marsh and Sour Billy. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” said Joshua York, “and Mister Framm is going with us.

Marsh told Toby to keep an eye on Billy, and went over to the bed. Karl Framm didn’t move. Marsh rolled him over. There were wounds on his neck, and dried blood on his shirt and his chin. He moved limply, heavily, and showed no signs of waking. But he was still breathing.

“The thirst was on me,” Valerie said, her voice small, looking from Marsh to York. “After the hunt… I had no choice… Damon gave him to me.”

“Is he still alive?” Joshua asked.

“Yes,” said Marsh. “We’ll have to carry him, though.” He stood up and gestured. “Toby, Billy, you take him down to the yawl.”

“Joshua, please, ”Valerie pleaded. Standing there in her nightdress, she looked helpless and afraid. It was hard to see her the way she’d been on the Eli Reynolds, or imagine her drinking Framm’s blood. “When Damon finds him gone, he will punish me. Please, don’t.”

Joshua hesitated. “We must take him, Valerie.”

“Take me too, then!” she said. “Please.”

“It is day.”

“If you can risk it, I can. I’m strong. I’m not afraid.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Joshua insisted.

“If you leave me here, Damon will be certain I helped you,” Valerie said. “He’ll punish me. Haven’t I been punished enough? He hates me, Joshua… he hates me because I loved you. Help me. I don’t want it… the thirst. I don’t! Please, Joshua, let me come with you!”

Abner Marsh could see her fear, and all of a sudden she no longer seemed like one of them, only like a woman, a human woman begging for help. “Let her come, Joshua.”

“Dress, then,” Joshua York said. “ Hurry. Wear some of Mister Framm’s clothing. It’s heavier than your own, and will cover more of your skin.”

“Yes,” she said. She slipped off the nightdress to reveal a slender white body, high full breasts, strong legs. From a drawer she got one of Framm’s shirts and buttoned it on. In barely a minute she was dressed; trousers, boots, vest and coat, a slouch hat. All of it was too big for her, but it didn’t seem to hinder her movement.

“C’mon,” Marsh snapped.

Billy and Toby carried Framm between them. The pilot was still unconscious, and his boots scraped along the deck as they hurried to the stair. Marsh came just behind them, his hand on the knife, which he kept shoved through his belt, concealed by the hang of his jacket. Valerie and Joshua brought up the rear.

The grand saloon was full of passengers, a few of whom eyed them curiously, but no one said anything. Down on the main deck, they had to step over sleeping deckhands, none of them men Marsh recognized. As they approached the sounding yawl, a couple of men moved toward them. “Where you goin’?” one demanded.

“None of your concern,” Sour Billy said. “We’re taking Framm here for some doctoring. Seems he ain’t feeling good. Both of you, now, help us get him into the yawl.”

One of the men hesitated, staring at Valerie and Joshua. Clearly it was the first time he’d seen either by day. “Does Julian know about this?” he said. Others were watching from all around the main deck, Marsh saw. He held the knife tightly, ready to slit Sour Billy’s goddamn throat if he said one wrong word.

“You giving me lip, Tim?” Billy asked coldly. “You better think of what happened to Alligator George, maybe. Now move your damn ass and do like I told you!”

Tim flinched and jumped to obey. Three others rushed to help him, and in no time at all the yawl was in the water alongside the steamer, and Karl Framm had been lowered into it. Joshua helped Valerie step across, and Toby hopped down after them. The deck was lined with curious hands now. Abner Marsh moved real close to Sour Billy Tipton and whispered, “You done real good so far. Now get into the yawl.”

Sour Billy looked at him. “You said you’d let me go,” he said.

“I lied,” Marsh said. “You’re stayin’ with us till we’re out of here.”

Sour Billy backed away. “No,” he said. “You’re just goin’ to kill me.” He raised his voice. “Stop them!” he shouted. “They had me prisoner, they’re running off, stop them!” He wrenched backward, out of Marsh’s reach. Marsh cussed and pulled loose the knife but it was too late, all the deckhands and rousters were moving toward him. A couple had knives of their own, he saw. “Kill him!” Sour Billy was yelling. “Get Julian, get help, kill them!”

Marsh grabbed the rope holding the yawl to the steamer, parted it with one swift stroke of the knife, and threw the blade at Billy’s yapping mouth. But it was a bad throw, and anyhow Sour Billy ducked. Someone grabbed Marsh’s jacket. He hit him hard across the face, and shoved him into the men behind him. The yawl was drifting with the current now. Marsh moved to step across before it went out of reach. Joshua was yelling for him to hurry, but somebody caught him around the throat and yanked him back. Abner Marsh kicked back furiously, but the man held on, and the yawl was getting farther away, downstream, Joshua was yelling, and Marsh thought he was done for. Then Toby Lanyard’s goddamn cleaver went whizzing by his ear, taking off a piece of it as it went, and the arm around his throat fell away as Marsh felt blood spatter his shoulder. He threw himself forward, towards the yawl, and made about half the distance, hitting the water heavily, belly first. It took all the breath out of him, and the cold was a shock. Abner Marsh flailed and thrashed and took in a mouthful of water and river mud before he surfaced. He saw the yawl drifting rapidly away, downstream, and paddled toward it. A rock or a knife or something splashed right alongside his head, and another fell a yard in front of him, but Toby had unshipped the oars and was slowing the boat a little, and Marsh reached it and threw an arm over the side. He nearly tipped the boat over trying to climb in, but Joshua had him, and he pulled, and before he knew it Marsh was lying on the bottom of the yawl, blowing out water. When he pulled himself up, they were twenty yards from the Fevre Dream, and moving off swiftly as the current got them firmly in its grasp. Sour Billy Tipton had gotten himself a pistol from somewhere, and was standing on the forecastle popping away at them, but he wasn’t hitting anything.