CHAPTER 1

Mississippi River, Arkansas, 1830

Mon Dieu! Help me! Somebody help me!

The blackness pulled at her. It wouldn't take her. She clawed at it. Demanding air. Getting none. Her lungs screamed. A silent scream.

She kicked, her legs tangled in her skirts. She had to find the light. She had to find the air.

She burst upward. Air brushed her face and she gasped. Darkness and coldness still surrounded her, but air filled her lungs. She gulped it in. Peering into the darkness, she looked for something solid. She slipped downward. With frantic, quick kicks, she pushed her head above the water that wanted to take her.

As she slipped beneath the water again, her feet hit the bottom. She pushed upward and swam toward shore.

Gaining the bank, she crawled up it. She wasn't drowned. Cold. So very cold, but she'd escaped the water that had suffocated her. She dug her fingers into the muck, refusing to be pulled back, and rested.

The river sucked at her skirts, pulling her back to its depths as her face pressed against the mud, caking her nose and mouth. She inched forward, then slumped. The water lapped at her feet. She dug at the mud blocking her air and spit, trying to remove the gritty taste from her mouth. "Yeech." A shiver ran through her. Inching her way from the river, she managed to sit. Her chest and head ached.

She couldn't take in a breath because her corset cut into her. She coughed, retching up water.

Pushing a strand of wet hair back from her face, she looked out at the river. It didn't seem so wide here. The water lapped gently on the shore, seemingly mild and beckoning, offering no harm. But moments before, it had dragged at her, wanting to drown her. Wanting to keep her with it always.

The wind caressed her and she shivered, coldness boring into her bones as her wet clothes clung to her. Only luck had kept her from being taken to the depths of the river by her skirts and petticoats. The shivering took hold of her and she couldn't stop shaking. She closed her eyes against the river, against the fear that had torn at her as the murky water tugged at her, not letting her breathe.

Shivering, she looked down at her feet. Her big toe poked out of one of her gold slippers. Streaks of dark gold from her underskirt bled through her light yellow silk overskirt. The white flowers edging the scallops of the overskirt became multicolored.

Tucking her feet beneath her skirts, she looked around, seeing nothing but brush and a row of tall oaks lining the edge of the river to her right. A mallard duck quacked at her before slipping into the water. She pushed back another strand of hair. Where was she?

The river could be the Mississippi, but the width belied that fact. She coughed again and leaned over. She wiped her mouth on her wet sleeve, smearing the dye. The throbbing in her head increased. Reaching up, she pulled back a hand covered with mud and blood. She cringed. She needed something to wash her head, but the river had claimed all but what she wore.

She couldn't sit forever on the riverbank. Cold and wet, hunger plagued her. She needed to find shelter, but she'd seen nothing indicating civilization. The coldness increased. Was the shore any better than the river? Would she die, alone and lost?

A shadow flitted across her skirt. She jumped and screamed, pushing her hand against her racing heart.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Didn't mean to scare ya."

She looked at a small boy with eyes the color of smoke and brown hair curling around his ears. A smear of dirt slashed across his cheek. "I did not hear you walk up."

A grin split the boy's face. "My pa taught me to walk real quiet like an Indian so nobody'd hear me."

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her. The coldness grew worse as the wind blew off the water. "You did a fine job." A spark of hope kindled inside her. Where a little boy roamed, other people couldn't be far. At least they might offer her shelter and dry clothing.

Copyright © 2004 by Janet Cornelow