Creole Fires Read Free Page B

we could do.” There was laughter now, deep and mocking, and the soundof rending fabric. The woman cursed the men but fell silent after a series of ringing blows that echoed against the walls of the cell and sent shivers of dread up Nicki’s spine. Unconsciously she twisted the folds of the dreary brown wool dress that dragged the earthen floor at her feet.
    “The only thing ye kin do,” Lorna told her, “is keep quiet and pray it dinna’ happen to ye.” Lorna still carried the bruises of her own assault, though the guards had been careful to put them where they didn’t show.
    So far Nicki had been lucky.
    “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,” she told Lorna. “No matter what happens.”
    Nicole had met her Scottish friend when she’d first been brought to the prison two weeks ago, in a state of near hysteria. Lorna, a runaway bond servant, had been wary at first, but Nicki’s heart-wrenching sobs had finally moved her to action.
    “Hush now,” Lorna had whispered, coming to a place on the dirty straw pallet beside her. “Ye dinna want them to notice ye. Stay quiet and maybe they’ll forget ye for a while.”
    “I—I don’t belong here,” Nicki stammered brokenly. “This is all a terrible mistake.”
    “Aye, lassie. No human bein’ belongs in a scourge of hell the likes o’ this. But ye’ve got to get hold o’ yerself. This won’t be for long. Ye’ll come up for sale in a fortnight, just like the rest o’ us. Then ye’ll be outta here.”
    “I don’t care if I never get out. I don’t care anymore if I live or die. I’ve got no place to go, no one left who gives a whit about me.”
    Lorna studied Nicki’s pale face in the flickeringcandlelight, noting the bruises on her cheek, dark and purple against her smooth skin, the delicate strands of copper hair that hung down from her worn brown bonnet. “Ye speak like an educated lass. Ye musta had someone who cared. Someone who saw to ye schoolin’ and all.”
    Nicki closed her eyes. In just three years her life had been turned upside down. “My parents,” she whispered, but it seemed so long ago she could scarcely remember. Almost another lifetime. “Before the depression, we owned a plantation on Bayou Lafourche.”
    “Aye. ‘Tis a lovely spot. I been there once myself.”
    Nicki smiled at that, a soft sad smile of remembrance. “Our house stood two stories tall. With graceful white columns out front and tiny dormer windows. It was made of pink brick from clay along the Teche. In the evening, the sun turned it the most lovely shade of rose you’ve ever seen.”
    Nicki swallowed the lump that swelled in her throat. She never used to cry, now it seemed she’d been crying for years.
    “So ye lost ye home in the Panic?”
    Nicki nodded. It felt good to tell someone the things she’d been holding inside so long. “I knew Papa had been having money problems …. I used to help him with his ledgers …. I just didn’t know how bad it was until after he died. He was so worried, you see. His heart … he just couldn’t stand the thought of losing Meadowood … of hurting Mama and me.” Tears washed her cheeks and she turned away.
    “Go on,” Lorna prodded. “’Tis time ye finished wi’ it so ye kin get on wi’ ye life.”
    “I don’t have a life!” Nicki snapped, suddenly angry for all she had lost. “I never will again.” She cried then, harder than she’d ever cried before. Lorna put an arm around her shoulder, but didn’t try to stop her. Eventually the tears were replaced by quiet sobs that eventually ceased altogether.
    They talked until late in the evening. Lorna spoke of her home in Scotland and of the family she had lost. “I thought coming to America would be the answer to my prayers.” She scoffed, glancing around the dirty cell. “Well, there’s nothin’ for it now but to try to make the best o’ things.”
    “That’s what Mama said after Papa died, but she couldn’t seem to find the will.”