"I'm not sure, but I think they're hoeing the cotton."

"Oh, Patrick, cotton. That's what you wanted. But are all these men your slaves?"

"No, ma'am. Dey's Mr. Patrick's workers, free men," a familiar voicesaid as Pharaoh came from around the cook shed; "Pharaoh!" Catherine ran toward the old man and hugged him. She'd missed him, and the thought that he was here, waiting for them, madeher feel as if she were really coming home.

"Oh, Pharaoh, I'm so glad to see you. Are you all right? What about Isabella and Sally? Did Captain Lopaz close Heaven?"

"No, ma'am. Ain't nobody seen the captain since he took off afterMr.

Patrick. We wuz 'fraid he was still chasing you. "

Patrick turned a questioning eye on Jillico.

"And you didn't see him anywhere?"

"No. He and his men left the village, headed back toward Natchez-under-the-Hill. I thought they were coming here. There was one boat blocking the waterway near the village, but it had a hole inthe bottom of it, as if it had been deliberately sunk."

"Simicco!" Catherine said.

"He's responsible. That's the only answer."

Patrick considered her comment. If she was right, and there was a goodpossibility she was, what was the Indian up to now? His plans toreunite the Natchez had suffered an almost fatal blow, which meant he'dlost his hold over them. He'd tried to punish Lopaz in the village. A growing conviction told Patrick that he'd succeeded. If that were the case, Patrick's hope of clearing his name was gone forever.

For Simicco, to escape his lot as a slave and return to his royalstatus must have seemed like a miracle. Now he'd lost the power andglory--and--Catherine.

Patrick was beginning to realize that he and Catherine had gotten awayfrom one enemy only to become the prey of another. Now, more thanever, Patrick was determined to get Catherine away. But how, and towhere?

"You may be right, Catherine. I think I will go and see Isabella. She must know what's happened at the fort, and down river as well." Patrickdidn't say so, but he wanted to know more about this Charles, whothought he was going to marry Catherine.

"Oh, good. Is there some way I can get cleaned up and find some otherclothes? I don't think it would be too smart to walk up the dock in anIndian dress."

"You won't be going!"

"Why not? If I'm not safe, neither are you. Besides, Isabella won'tturn us in."

"Maybe not, but somebody did, and somebody led Lopaz to the village.

Natchez is a den of thieves, Catherine, and thieves only care aboutthemselves. You stay here. Pharaoh, don't we have a couple of trunksof women's clothes we've--acquired? "

"Dey's in the house. You come with me, Miss Catherine. I'll have the women prepare you a good bath and comb your hair."

"Not Catherine," she snapped.

"My name is Cat. Cat 0" Conner, and Cat 0"Conner is respected underthe hill."

Patrick smiled. Proud and stubborn, to the last, that was hisCatherine--no, he corrected, his Cat.

"Well, Jillico, let's move off." Patrick started back to the pirogue,considering his next move, when Catherine's words stopped him.

"Patrick, aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"

No! He had no intention of kissing her. He didn't even trust himself to touch her. But there she was, in his arms, standing on tiptoes withher eyes closed.

If a pig came out of the woods he'd give it all up.

He didn't need the pig. His lips were touching hers and he hadn'tknown he was moving. Just that quick moment and he knew he'd lostagain. The woman was able to curl him around her little finger, evenwhen he knew what she was doing.

"Pharaoh, look after her. Set guards!" He growled and marched offwith his teeth and lips pressed tightly together. A lot of good thatwould do now. He'd already been taken advantage of by Catherine'ssimple gesture.

He'd better get to Heaven before he started seeing rainbows, before hewas completely caught up in Catherine's fantasy that they'd live in thebig house like a real family. Patrick knew that could never happen.

Isabella laid down her hairbrush and turned away from her mirror.

"You can't take her to New Orleans now, Stone. There's sickness there.

The commandant at the fort has even set up a quarantine. We're havingto check out the gents when they come in the door. Any sign of feveror yellow skin and they're turned away. "

"Sickness?"

"Yes, Patrick, the fever death."

Patrick balled up his fist and slammed it into his palm.

"God's blood.

Is even the Almighty conspiring with Catherine? "

"She's got you, hasn't she, Stone?. This little thing has you wrappedas tight as a Christmas goose and you can't do a thing about it."

"I'll bring her here," he said, striding back and forth across thePersian rug that had hidden his escape tunnel from the Spanish.

"I don't think that would be wise either, Stone. Too many people arefleeing the city and many of them have come here. We haven't had a death yet, but we will. We always do. No, she's safer with you."

He was defeated. He might as well accept his fate. Catherine would be in his bed and in his arms before sunrise of the first night hereturned to Rainbow's End. Even the thought of her started his heartracing and blotted out the important things he needed to learn.

"Why is this such a problem, Stone? It's obvious that she's crazyabout you. Marry the wench."

"I can't, Isabella. Not until my name is cleared."

"Why in heaven's name not? Along the Mississippi people don't care what you were. All they want to know is what you are now and thatyou're not going to do them harm."

"I care. I'm a bastard, Isabella. Oh, I have a name, but it isn'tthat of my father. The man who gave me to my mother never knew, andthe man who got saddled with raising me, punished me every minute of mylife until I finally ran away. I'll never wish that kind of pain onanyone."

"Your child will have a name, Stone. And you don't have a wife. Or do you?"

"Certainly not. And Catherine isn't having a child, either."

But that statement sobered him. Mona had been overly concerned aboutCatherine bearing a child. Patrick had assumed that she was worried about Simicco's mating with her, but suppose she'd seen something elsein her vision. Suppose Catherine was already carrying a child?

"I've got to go, Isabella. I'll send someone to find out when the sickness is over. If you learn of anyone going to the coast overland,send me word."

"If you're determined. But the sickness won't slow down for another two months, not until fall. Summer is always the worst."

Two months. Isabella had to be wrong about that. Patrick reviewed his options. He could move into the cook shed and give Catherine the crudelittle house the Spanish don had built for himself and his wife. He had enough money for them to live for a while. But the payment on hisland was due, overdue, and there would be no paying that unless hereturned to the river.

By the time he got back to Rainbow's End he'd resigned himself to thefact that Isabella wasn't wrong, and neither was he.

"Miss Catherine waiting for you in the parlor, suh," Pharaoh said.

"I'll bring your supper."

"Never mind that now, Pharaoh. Is everything here all right?"

"Ain't seen no sign of nary a human, but there's some kind of creatureprowling around the woods. It's done killed one of the pigs and acouple of chickens."

Patrick nodded and walked down the large open hallway to the roomPharaoh was calling the parlor. It was that, and the dining area, andthe room in which all other daytime activities took place.

Catherine was waiting there for him, wearing a wrapper of fine, gauzymaterial that only enhanced the soft warm color of her skin. She had a fire going, even in the late July heat. Standing before it, her bodywas outlined perfectly, making it obvious that she was wearing nothingelse. Pert little nipples announced her interest in him the moment hestepped into the room.

This woman wasn't the lady from Cadenhill, this was Cat 0"Conner,straight from Heaven, and he could no more have turned away from herthan he could stop breathing.

"Catherine, what the hell are you doing? First you try to drown us andnow you're trying to burn us alive?"

"You mean the fire? That's Pharaoh's idea. He says it keeps thesickness away. But we don't need a fire to burn, do we, Patrick?"

They never did eat. And later that night, as Patrick felt her softbreathing feather his chest, he pondered on the truth of her words.

They were like lightning. All they had to do was look at each otherand they ignited a fire that couldn't be quenched. And that would continue as long as they were together.

The answer became clear.

If he couldn't send her away, he'd have to leave.

He'd go to the place by the river where he kept his horse and hisflatboats. It was crude, but it was close enough to Catherine to keepan eye on her, yet far enough away so that he could not lie with her.

From there, Stone could carry on with his piracy until he'd takenenough money to pay the note.

Since he concentrated only on the Spanish vessels that had completedtheir trading missions he considered that he was only reclaiming whatthey'd taken from him when they stole his ship. He'd refurbish his coffers and deal.

Then, he'd take Catherine back to Petersburg, across country,himself.

He didn't know how he'd face her family, or what they'd say. But he'd do whatever they considered the proper thing--once they learned thetruth.

When Catherine awakened the next morning, Stone was gone. And she hadn't even told him about the child she was carrying. She stretched and made a happy little mewing sound. That was all right. She'd tell him soon. For now she could just lie there and enjoy her thoughts.

She wondered if she was supposed to feel guilty. She wondered what Patrick thought about her wantonness and decided it didn't matter. As long as she could wake up in his bed every morning, the rest of theworld could, as Settee used to say, "go to grass and eat mullet."

They were supposed to be together and she defied anyone to sayotherwise.

Patrick had been wrong about there being a snake in the Garden of Eden.Patrick had created a beautiful rainbow for her, with a pot of gold atthe end.

Chapter Fifteen.

Q^yy^Q Catherine was growing angrier by the minute. Patrick had been gone fordays and nobody would tell her where, only that she was to wait.

Waiting patiently was not Catherine's style, but this time even Pharaohrefused to help her. She'd already learned how untamed the area aroundPatrick's plantation was. And she couldn't find a single worker whowould agree to take her out, no matter where she told them she wantedto go. This time she didn't have any choice except to follow hisorders.

If she had to wait, she'd find something to occupy her time. She started out by moving herself into the plantation house. She could oversee its progress better if she were living in the building. But she soon saw that her presence only slowed down the work, so she tookto walking along the bayou where she enjoyed the beauty of the area.

Wildflowers bloomed abundantly in the areas touched by sunlight.

Beautiful vines climbed the huge old trees, filling their branches withclusters of fragrant purple blossoms. She watched the heavy beeslumber through the air from flower to flower as if they had nowhere togo and all the time in the world to get there.

Nowhere to go, like her. She was trapped, alone. Being held prisonerat the end of a rainbow without Patrick wasn't her idea of happiness.

Besides, there were times, in the early morning and sometimes late atnight, when she felt positively ill. Having a baby was no fun withoutPatrick. In fact it was downright irritating.

Here he was, off doing who knew what, without even knowing that he wasgoing to be a father. What if he got himself killed? What if he were making arrangements to send her home as he'd threatened? She could imagine herself walking into Judge Taliferro's parlor and announcingthat she was with child and without a husband.

Growing more and more short-tempered, she finally pulled on a sun hatand took to the fields, working alongside the runaway slaves who'dtaken advantage of Patrick's protection.

Resolutely, she refused to admit either to Pharaoh or to the woman whoattended her that she was carrying a child. This was Patrick's baby,and Patrick would be the first to know--if he ever came back.

One hot day rolled into another. The cotton bloomed and made bolls,and the sugarcane, now shoulder high, was turning a deep purplecolor.

Catherine, a familiar sight in the fields, turned as honey-colored asthe mulatto girl who suddenly appeared at her door one morning with herneedle and thread.

"Pharaoh sent me, lady. I will alter your clothes," the bright-eyedgirl said.

"My clothes are just fine," Catherine snapped, trying to draw the waist of her skirt together.

"Of course, lady," the girl agreed, clipping the threads to allow Catherine's expanding waistline room to breath.

"What's your name?"

"I'm called Consuelo."

A Spanish name. English spoken with a Spanish accent, like many of the