Chapter 7: The gloom of the grave

Tommy smiled before he opened his eyes, enjoying the warmth of a nude body pressed along his side. He had shown Annie many of the skills he had learned over the course of the evening and into the night. He had received instruction from Mama Sam and others, but lying with Annie was different. There had been a wantonness on both their parts that had excited and satisfied him in some deeper way than his ‘lessons’ ever had.

A weight on the edge of the bed, followed by a wet, sloppy tongue on his cheek made him open his eyes. Rex was wanting his attention. Tommy grinned at his dog, slipped out of Annie’s embrace, pulled on a pair of loose shorts and padded to the cabin door, then up the stairs to the salon with Rex on his heels. He opened the sliding glass door at the stern, and watched as the dog hurried out, and down the ladder to the stern where a small sandbox gave him a spot to take care of business when he could not get ashore.

It was barely dawn, with the sun barely above the eastern horizon. Tommy thought about Annie and rejoining her in bed, then remembered Mellissa and Bonnots Mill. Instead of heading back below, he turned and made his way to the galley for some hot water and herbal tea. The adults at home always bemoaned the ready availability of coffee, but Tommy had never acquired the taste for it from the few sips he had been allowed to try. Instead, he had been happy to have the herbal blend of stimulating teas Mama Samantha favored. He lit the small alcohol burner in the galley and set a stainless-steel pot over it to boil before getting the tin of herbs out.

“You left me all alone,” Annie said as she came up the stairs to the cockpit area adjacent to the gallery.

Tommy smiled at her. She was nude and looked very enticing. He met her at the entrance to the galley and pulled her into his arms for a good morning kiss.

“I didn’t want to leave you, but Rex needed to go out,” he said as the dog came in to give Annie and enthusiastic greeting with his cool nose and wagging tail.

Annie squatted and scratched his ears as he gave her his own good morning kiss.

“Tea?” Tommy asked as he turned back to the galley.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

CRASH!

The window behind Annie exploded, sending glass through the cockpit.

Tommy and Annie both instinctively ducked low.

CRASH!

A window in the salon was shattered.

“Stay down,” Tommy yelled, needlessly. “Get below if you can.”

Rex was already out the aft end of the salon and racing to the fantail.

Tommy ducked out the side door of the cockpit, staying low and on the side of the boat opposite from the windows that had been shot. His rifle was aft, just outside the rear facing doors of the salon. He thought furiously as he moved. The shots were from the port side, along the south bank of the river. That was the area he had explored as he scouted out the Paulson place. There was a small bluff, just down river from where they had anchored. If he were going to shoot at the boat, that’s where he would go. The elevation advantage would help, but the angle would be a little harder to hit through a window. Of course, the fantail where the johnboat was tied would be fully exposed.

He paused as he reached the end of cover from the deckhouse, able to see his rifle, but not able to reach it without exposing himself. As if to reinforce the vulnerable position of the firearm, another shot rang out and he heard the sharp metallic ping of a bullet punching through the superstructure of the boat.

BOOM!

Tommy recognized the sound of Annie and her twelve-gauge shotgun from forward. He knew she had no hope of hitting anything ashore with that weapon but was thankful for the distraction. Without thought, he rolled around the corner, grabbed the strap of his rifle, and continued rolling until he was beneath the heavy teak table set overlooking the fantail.

Another rifle shot rang out and the rear window of the salon shattered.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. He had a weapon now but would have to expose himself to find a target, let alone take a real shot.

Beneath him, he felt the vibration of the diesel engines starting. “Good girl,” he thought. Annie must have seen his predicament and started the engines so they could swing against the current and give him a clearer path back inside the ship.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Whoever was shooting had shifted tactics and was peppering the superstructure to either hit Annie or just randomly force any occupants to stay under cover. Tommy gathered his feet under him, rolled to a squat and glanced over the gunwale of the stern deck as the attacker continued shooting at a steady pace.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Tommy stood enough to see the last muzzle flash from the downstream bluff. He hoped the shooter had only a ten-round magazine. He lifted his rifle and quickly sighted through the scope, squeezing off a shot before scrambling back around the starboard side of the cabin.

There was a pause in the shooting, and he took the opportunity to scan the area through his scope as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“Annie!” he called.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “What do you want me to do?”

Tommy thought. If she pushed the boat upstream and got some slack on the anchor, she could pivot them around, but it would be tricky holding station against the current until they got the anchor in.

“Can you raise the anchor?” he asked as he continued to scan the area the shots had come from.

“I can try.”

A moment later, he heard the forward anchor winch start pulling the heavy chain in. He kept his eyes on the bluff. Was that movement, or a morning breeze?

He kept his rifle aimed at the shadowed foliage. Something moved in the bush. He tightened his finger on the trigger and slowed his breathing. If it were him, hunting, he would move his body slowly to the right to get a better angle for a shot. He moved his aim slightly to the left and squeezed.

BANG!

He kept his eyes on his target bush and was happy to see the bush jerk and a rifle barrel lift up, as if his assailant had rolled away violently.

He kept his eyes peeled.

“I think the anchor’s free,” Annie called.

“Go up-river,” Tommy said. “And move us closer to the north bank.”

“Aye-aye,” she replied.

Tommy kept his focus on the bluff, trusting Annie to be able to manage the boat alone for a little bit. There was definite movement near the spot he had shot, but he could not make out a clear target. He considered shooting off another round but held his fire.

“Tommy!” Annie called. “Something’s wrong with the rudder!”

Tommy tore his eye from the reticle of his scope and looked to see the bow swinging north. He hurried forward, hoping he made it inside before the starboard side of the boat was fully exposed.

Annie was crouched low at the helm when he got into the pilothouse.

“It won’t come port,” she said frantically as the boat turned beam on to the current and continued to come around.

“Stear with the engines,” Tommy said, looking out the window at the bluff after grabbing a pair of binoculars. “Try full forward on the starboard engine, and back on the port.”

He felt the engine vibration change and the rate of turn slowed. He scanned the bluff but saw nothing.

“Use the bow thruster!” he called.

Annie did not respond, but he felt the thrumming vibration of the thruster deep in the water and saw their turn slow and then reverse itself.

Tommy scrambled into the small bridge of the ship. Annie moved away from the helm and looked fearfully out the windows toward the southern shore. For several tense minutes, neither spoke.

Tommy tried to will the ship to the course he wanted, but knew patience was needed. He waited until the bow was nearly fifteen degrees past the point of the compass he wanted to steady on and then stopped the bow thruster. Almost immediately, the ship began to swing to starboard once more. He let it drift past his steering point before re-starting the thruster. At the same time, he jockeyed the throttle on the port engine, getting more forward thrust. Slowly, they moved upstream.

“This is going to be a pain in the ass to get close to Bonnots Mill,” Tommy said. “It’s only five miles, but I think it’s going to take a couple of hours. The bow thruster isn’t meant to run continuously, either.”

“What can we do?” Annie asked, still looking aft toward the bluff the shots had come from.

“Go below, get dressed,” Tommy commanded. “Then I’ll show you how to do this so I can try to figure out what’s wrong with the rudder.”

Without another word, Annie turned and headed below. When she came back up, she was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a chambray work-shirt, as well as sturdy boots. Tommy nodded at her and then explained the points along the river he was using to judge the swing of the bow and when to use the thruster and what engine settings seemed to work best. They had made it less than a mile upstream by the time Annie was comfortable steering the ship, and Tommy went below.

The mouth of the Osage river where it merged with the Missouri was visible by the time he came back up.

“It’s an electrical problem,” Tommy said without preamble. “I can disconnect the servos and control the rudder from the engine room, but it’s going to be a two-person job to steer.”

Annie nodded. “Then we need to stop long enough for you to show me what to do down there. You know better how to manage the engines and where we’re trying to get to, so you should be up here.”

Tommy did not really want her stuck down in the loud engine-room but had to agree with her assessment. He took over the helm and cut the engine, keeping the vessel in the middle of the channel with the bow thruster until their speed dropped. He carefully judged their motion relative to the bank of the river and dropped the anchor just as their forward momentum stopped.

Once they were certain the anchor was holding, he shut down the engines and let out a deep sigh as Annie hugged him. Her arms felt good around his shoulders.

After a few moments, Tommy kissed her and then broke their embrace. “Let’s go to the engine room and figure out how we’re going to do this,” he said.

“I swear to God, that man needs a bullet and not for his gun,” Melissa said as Carmine flinched at the look on her face.

“He hasn’t been into town in months, and when he did come last, he was more interested in the rot-gut wine from Henderson than any real trade,” the old man said. “How’s the girl doing?”

Melissa took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. “Better. I gave her more willow bark tea and checked her dressings. Luckily, I didn’t have to do any sewing on her last night, and I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“There’s a boat coming in!” Christine said excitedly as she rushed in the door of Carmine’s shop. She had gone out to take care of morning chores, tending chickens and checking on their garden while it was still cool.

“A boat?” Carmine asked.

“I bet I know who,” Melissa said. “With Elaine, I didn’t have a chance to tell you. I met them yesterday. They have some stuff to trade with you.”

Carmine was already wringing his hands and looking over his stores. His salvage over the past few months had been limited, but he had managed to add some local produce and tanned furs since Melissa’s last stop. “Stock’s a bit low, but maybe we have something they need,” he muttered.

“Let’s go meet them,” Melissa said. “They are good kids.”

“Kids?”

That led to an abbreviated telling of her meeting with Tommy and Annie yesterday. The three of them hurried out of the store that was also their house and headed down the deserted street toward the river. A couple of other town members joined them as they walked toward the white boat nosing into the mouth of the Osage where it met the Missouri river.

“Something strange going on there,” Carmine said as they watched the bow swing just before the anchor dropped.

Melissa nodded, and then saw the broken windows along the saloon and what could only be bullet holes in the superstructure. “Those windows weren’t broken yesterday,” she said.