Free Bonds, Parris Afton by The Flash of the Firefly

use it, Mrs. Maren. Yesterday San Felipe was raided by the
Kickapoos. Two young girls on their way to school were scalped and had their
breasts cut off."
    Anne shivered―whether from fear or from
hearing such an intimate word on the lips of the man, she did not know. ''This
makes more than once you've tried to frighten me," she said in a whisper.
"Why?"
    There was the slightest smile to the lips that was
not a smile at all. "Maybe I'm still irritated with you. Your selfish
demand that we take time out to escort you cost the town of Bastrop the lives
of several of its citizens."
    Anne's fingertips flew to her lips. "Oh, I'm
sorry! I didn't think about―"
    "Your kind never do. So you see―it's hard
for me to treat you properly―as a lady should be treated." He pulled
the hat over his eyes. "Goodbye, Mrs. Maren."
    Anne knew then, as she watched the dark figure move
silently as a wild animal back toward the river's forested bank, that the scout
held her in the lowest contempt. As much as she disliked the man ...as much as
he disliked her ...she felt drawn to him, more at ease with him in the seclusion
of the river's tree-lined banks than in her own cabin with ...and the thought
of what awaited her filled her with repugnance.
    Perhaps that was the answer, she thought. With
Brant, who despised her, she knew she was at least safe from the unbearable
defilement of her body.
     

IX
     
     
    The warm, invigorating May sunlight streamed through
the elm and oak leaves to fall in dappled patterns on the people assembled
below for Sunday services. Behind the altar table stood Otto. His eyes were as
fiery as the everlasting brimstone he promised. His voice―and he
purposely spoke in English―held the people of Adelsolms spellbound. He
was a forceful speaker, his words drawing the attention in soft-spoken tones at
one time, then compelling, urging, motivating his congregation, his sheep, with
gripping, reverberant oration the next.
    However, at least one among the flock remained
unmoved. Anne sat on one of the benches reserved for the minister's family and
town officials, wishing she were among those forced to stand. If she were, she
mused, she would keep to the back of the congregation and while all attention
was diverted to Otto, she would slip away, stealing down the now worn path to
the river bank. And with no eyes to watch, she would take off her shoes and
stockings and, like a little girl again, wade in the water. She would no longer
have to be the proper, dutiful wife of Adelsolm's pastor.
    Wistfully, she forced her thoughts back to them an
before her, her husband. If she could not control her mind, and her heart, she
could at least control her body; could make herself perform as the wife of the
Reverend Maren should...
    The altar cloth on the rustic table decorated with
vases of Indian paintbrush and bluebonnets attested to her wifely efforts.
Anne's nose wrinkled in a rueful grimace as her glance fell unerringly on one
of the many knotted stitches in the black cross she had embroidered on the
tablecloth's white background. Well, at least she was trying. Delila had often tried
to help her, but she always insisted on doing things herself. She would prove
she was as capable as the next woman on the Texas frontier.
    Had she not already learned how to dress a turkey
and mold candles? And though the candlewicks sputtered and died and the
foul-smelling bird still retained some feathers by the time it reached the
dinner-table, Otto did not complain.
    Only Delila complained. "Baby, yo' doing too
much! Just look at yo'self. Yo' mama'd have my hide, if'n she could see the
fine young lady she raised right now!"
    Anne did not have to see herself to know what she
must look like. Though the Maren cabin did not have a mirror, she knew her skin
was no longer the color of magnolia blossoms as one suit or had once told her.
In spite of the poke bonnet she donned whenever she went outside, her face and
hands had tanned.  Worse, though, she had