The flesh above her elbows was swollen where the cords had cut her circulation. She had no feeling at all in her hands and feet. If she’d had a chance to run, or a place to go, she couldn’t have managed a step. How much longer would Price and his crew go on? The boat cut silently through water thick with duckweed and marsh grass as it had for what seemed more hours than a night could last. “You doin’ all right there, Miss Lucy Ann?” Dorcas leaned across the flat-bottomed craft to ask. Lucienne shook her head and held up her bound hands as best she could. Dorcas nodded and gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Not much longer now. When we get there, I can get you loose. Not much place for you to run off to, not out in this swamp.” Grimly Lucienne had to agree. A pale slice of moon put little light over the vast monochrome view. In shades of black and grey the restless bayou slipped past the sides of the boat. Ghostly veils of Spanish moss hung down almost to her head.
