Page 10

ase. . . ."

"I ain't leavin' till I get what I come for," he said. "Now, is it goin' to be hard or easy? I can take it either way. Thing is," he said, smiling again, "I kinda like it the hard way more. It's like wrestlin' an alligator." He stepped toward me and I gasped. "Put her to bed less'n she's going to get an early education, hear?"

I swallowed hard. It was difficult to breathe and not be drowned in what was happening so fast.

"Put her down on that sofa there," he ordered. "She'll cry herself to sleep jist like most babies. Go on."

I eyed the settee and the door, but despite his stupidity, he had enough sense to anticipate that and stepped back to block my escape. Reluctantly I brought Pearl to the settee and set her down. She screamed and screamed.

Buster took my wrist and pulled me to him. I tried to resist, but it was like holding back the tide. He wrapped his enormous arms around me, crushing me to his stomach and chest, and then he pinched my chin in his powerful fingers and forced me to look up so he could bring those spongy lips to my mouth. I gagged under their wet pressure, holding my breath and trying to keep myself from falling unconscious. I was terrified that if I did, he would just rip off my clothes and have his way with me.

His right hand moved down my waist until he cupped my rear in it and lifted me, bouncing me in his hands as if I weighed only a little more than Pearl.

"Whoa, now. This is a fine piece of

merchandise here. Your grandpere Jack was right. Yep."

"Please," I pleaded, "not near the baby. Please."

"Sure, honey. I want a real bed for us anyway. You go on and lead the way upstairs."

He turned me roughly and pushed me toward the kitchen and the stairway. I gazed back at Pearl. She was crying hard and her whole little body was shaking.

"Go on," Buster ordered.

I started forward, searching for a means of escape. My gaze went to the roux I had left cooking on the stove. It was still simmering.

"Wait," I said. "I've got to turn this off."

"That's a good Cajun woman," Buster said. "Always thinkin' about her cookin'. Afterward, I might sample some of your gumbo anyway. Makin' love usually makes me hungry as a bear."

He stepped up behind me. I knew I had only a few seconds and if I didn't make the most of it now, I would be doomed to go up those stairs. Once up there, I was trapped and at his mercy. Even if I could jump out a window, I wouldn't, for I would be leaving him alone with Pearl. I closed my eyes, prayed, and took the handle of the pot firmly in my fingers. Then I spun around as quickly as I could and heaved the hot contents into Buster's face.

He screamed and I ducked under his arms and shot out of the kitchen. I scooped Pearl up and rushed out the door of the shack, pounding over the gallery and down the stairs. I ran into the night without looking back. I heard his shouts and curses and I heard him flailing about within, knocking over chairs, breaking dishes, smashing a window in his rage. But I didn't stop. I hurried into the darkness.

Pearl was so shocked by my actions, she stopped crying. She was shivering with fear, though, for she felt the trembling in my own body. I was afraid Buster would come running after us, but when he didn't do that, I was afraid he would get into his car and come driving after us, so I stayed in the ditches off the side of the road, ready to lunge into the brush and hide the moment I saw car headlights.

I don't know how I managed not to trip and fall with Pearl in my arms, but I was lucky there was some moonlight peeking in and out of the clouds. It threw enough illumination ahead of me to show me the way. Fortunately, I never saw his car coming. I arrived at Mrs. Thibodeau's house and pounded on her front door.

"Ruby!" she cried as soon as she set eyes on Pearl and me. "What's happened?"

"Oh, Mrs. Thibodeau, please help us. Buster Trahaw just tried to rape me in my house," I cried. She opened her door and hurried us in, locking the door after her.

"You just sit right there in the living room," she said, her face white with shock. "I'll get you some water and then ring up the police. Thank goodness I got one of them phones put in last year."

She brought a glass of water back from the kitchen and took Pearl into her arms. I gulped down the cool liquid and sat back, my eyes closed, my heart still thumping so hard, I thought Mrs. Thibodeau could see it rising and falling against my blouse.

"Poor baby, poor child. Oh, my, my. . . Buster Trahaw, you say. My, my .....

Pearl stopped crying. She whimpered a bit and then closed her eyes and fell asleep. I took her back into my arms while Mrs. Thibodeau went back to the kitchen to call the police. A short while later, a patrol car arrived, and when the two policemen came in, I described what had happened to me.

"We've had more than one run-in with that good-for-nothing," one of the officers said. "You just stay right here until we come back."

I wasn't about to move an inch. About an hour later, they returned to tell us they found him still at my shack.

He had done some damage and then dug a bottle of rotgut whiskey out of his car to sit and wait for my return. From what they described, they had to have another pair of policemen come by to help subdue Buster.

"We got him in the cage, where he belongs," the policeman told me. "But you'll have to come down to the police station and swear out a complaint. You can do it now or you can do it in the morning."