Stepping into the house, he wiped off thebottom of his shoes on a doormat and then walked into the sittingroom.
“Mrs. Brown!” he exclaimed, running to her.She sat in a chair bound to it with rope, a gag in her mouth. Heremoved the gag. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “Thankgoodness you’re here.”
“What happened?” George asked, untying therope around her wrists.
“A white man was chasing Allison, the poorgirl. She ran to my house but he followed…” Her voice faded andtears welled in her eyes. “And he took her, George!”
George’s heart tightened as if it too hadbeen bound. “Did he hurt her?”
Mrs. Brown shook her head. “Not yet.”
“How long ago did they leave?”
“Only a few minutes ago. Maybe you can catchup with them. But he’s on horseback.”
George patted Mrs. Brown’s hand. “I am, too.Did he say where they were going?”
“He mentioned New Orleans. That’s all Iknow.”
Would Coswell choose to go by train orsteamboat? Steamboat gave him more control. He could keep Allisonlocked in his stateroom.
Heart hammering his rib cage with such forcehe feared one of the bones would crack, he ran out the door,mounted his gelding, and headed toward the docks. If he didn’t getthere before they boarded he might not be able to find them. Hedidn’t have a reason for the crews to let him search the rooms.
He spurred his horse to go faster. Hecouldn’t lose Allison.
He dismounted and searched to see if any ofthe steamboats were boarding. Hespied Coswell standing in the ticket line for the Aurora,arm in arm with Allison, holding her too tight for comfort.
George barred his teeth. Coswell would getwhat he deserved just like Grier had. He strode up to the line ofpassengers with quick, powerful steps. How should he get Coswellalone? He didn’t want to draw the attention of the constable unlessthere was no other choice. The man didn’t know him. He’d try totake him by surprise.
“Mr. Coswell?” George asked. “Rumor is you’regoing to New Orleans. I got a job there. Will be moving there soonmyself.” He kept his tone respectful, eyes politely averted.
“Yes?” Coswell asked, his annoyance blaredloud and clear.
George licked his lips. “Well, sir, I wasjust wondering where your establishment was in New Orleans so Icould visit.”
Coswell blinked. “I’m not sure what you’rereferring to.”
“I lay with this fine black woman a whileback. Mmmm that was a pleasure. She said she worked for you.”
Allison’s eyes widened and she looked atGeorge alarmed and confused.
Coswell took a deep breath and exhaled slowlyas if he was trying to tamper down his emotions. “It is on BoyleStreet.”
George nodded. “I’ll be sure to visit. Shedoesn’t look familiar.” George eyed Allison. “New girl?”
“That’s none of your business,” Coswellsnapped, his hazel eyes narrowed. The fingers of his freehand flexed.
George backed away heeding the silentwarning. Apparently he wanted Allison all to himself. Angering theman would be the easiest distraction. “Sorry. Just trying to makepolite conversation, sir.”
He waved the hand he just flexed as ifbatting away a fly. “I’m busy.”
Busy standing in line? George would havelaughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious. “Yes, sir. I’msure you value your time, but you also value your business.” Histongue moistened his dry mouth. “I’m not very good with directions,I’m afraid,” he continued to ramble on. “Can you describe thishouse on Boyle Street to me?”
Coswell let go of Allison and made a fist.“You are bothering me, boy,” he said in a slow deep voice as if hewas talking to someone touched in the head.
George met Allison’s eyes and then his gazeshifted down the street. This was her chance.
His body stiffened preparing to absorb apunch. “My money doesn’t bother you, sir. You charge a high pricefor your girls and I paid up. I should get the same courtesy asyour other customers. Even if you do make me go down to yourbasement.”
“I gave you a warning.” Coswell swung,striking George across the mouth.
Allison took off running.
“What was that for?” George swung back,determined to keep the brothel owner occupied.
“It seems to be the only way to shut youup.”
George’s heart felt like it was about toexplode. He braced himself for whatever happened next. RunAllison, run.
Coswell struck him across the mouth again,and this time he tasted blood. Hespat on the ground. Damn it.
“You spitting at me, boy?”
He could say no, but that wouldn’t do him anygood. He’d already riled Coswell.
“Yes!” George went for a soft target, hittingCoswell in the stomach.
The man’s mouth gaped open and he gasped forair. Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, George put a handon both his shoulders and backed Coswell into the river. He’d keepthe man busy long enough for Allison to get away. He didn’t carewhat the consequences were. The water instantly turned George’sfeet numb.
The people in the ticket line took notice oftheir brawl. George heard people encouraging Coswell on. Somebastards were even taking bets to see who would win. A dark thoughtclouded his mind. Even if he did win, a constable would likely haulhim off to jail.
Coswell landed another good shot to his faceand blood dripped out his nose. George wiped the blood away andshook his head. Focus.
He ignored the icy pain working up from histoes to his ankles to his legs. Concentrating on his adversary, hiseyes turned into determined slits. With both hands, he pushed Mr. Coswell hard. The man losthis balance and sank under water. He popped up coughing, hairplastered to his head.
“Why you dirty cur,” Coswell said. He pulleda small knife out of his vest pocket.
George’s eyes darted straight to the blade.Sunlight gleamed off the metal. He hadn’t planned on fighting anarmed man. He advanced farther into the water trying to gain betterfooting. Running in the water took skill as well as strength.
Coswell trudged through the water, swinginghis knife back and forth. “No one will miss you when you’re lyingon the bottom of the Mississippi.”
George back-peddled struggling to
