by Naomi Finley
I ran down the corridor and past the staircase to the open front door. My heart soared at the sight of Ben speaking to Mammy in the dim light on the veranda. Tillie and our butler stood on either side of the double doors, waiting for instructions.
“Welcome home, Masa Hendricks.” Mammy beamed.
I’d heard recently from Mary Grace that Mammy thought Ben was a catch of a fellow. I smiled to myself.
“Thank you, Miss Rita. I trust all is well?” He touched her shoulder with his hand.
“Yes, Masa. De best et can be.”
He turned, and his handsome face brightened at the sight of me. He moved toward me with widespread arms. “Willow, my darling.”
I walked into his embrace. “You’re home. You’re finally home! How I’ve missed you,” I muffled into his chest.
He chuckled. “A man should leave home every day, if he’s to come home to a welcoming such as this.” He squeezed me tighter before leaning back. Holding me at arm’s length, he inspected me. “As beautiful as ever, I see.”
I blushed under his praise. “You’re too kind, Uncle.”
He winced at the term “uncle.”
I tucked my hand into the curve of his arm, hoping to relieve the hurt caused by the name I’d given him. “I couldn’t be more pleased that you’ve arrived. We’ve important matters to discuss, and with Christmas just around the corner, I’d hoped we’d all be together.”
He removed a gold pocket watch—a gift from my mother—from his vest pocket and flipped it open with his thumb. “Let us move inside and get cleaned up before the evening meal.”
Whitney stepped onto the veranda as we turned to go inside. “Mr. Hendricks, you’re home at last.” Her smile was reflected in her eyes.
He grinned in return. “It’s been too long.”
“Mr. Hendricks!” Jack and Kimie bounced down the stairs.
Ben knelt and held out his arms, and the twins sailed into them. He kissed the top of Kimie’s blond curls and tousled Jack’s hair before planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. My heart swelled at the exchange of affection.
Jack stepped back and straightened to his full height. Trying for a deep voice, he said, “I was about done with all these women. It’s a mighty good thing you showed up when you did.”
Ben’s chuckle made the room feel weightless and life not so burdensome. “Too many womenfolk for too long of a spell can’t be good for any man’s sanity.” He tossed his hat on Jack’s head. The hat dropped below the boy’s ears.
Only the impish grin that spread across Jack’s face was visible until he pushed back the hat and peeked up at Ben. “You got that right.”
“All right, children, run along and let Mr. Hendricks settle in,” Whitney said.
“But we—” Jack started to protest, but Whitney took him by the shoulder and spun him toward the door. “Fine.” He scowled, then said over his shoulder to Ben, “I’ll see you later, sir.”
“I look forward to it, young Jack.”
Kimie gave a small wave and trailed after them and up the stairs.
I turned to Ben. “After you’ve freshened up, would you care to join me in the library?”
“I expect a full rundown of the plantation and the warehouses.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, then mounted the stairs.
THAT NIGHT, I DESCRIBED TO Ben all that had happened while he was away. The next morning we rose early to go over finances and business prospects before breakfast.
At the end of breakfast, Ben wiped his mouth, pushed back his chair, and stood. Strolling to the window with hands clasped loosely behind his back, he ducked his head to take a gander at the skies. “A day such as this shouldn’t be wasted.” He turned to us. “I don’t suppose you young folk would enjoy a ride to the ocean?” His eyes gleamed as he shot me a wink. I smiled knowingly. He looked to the shining faces of the twins.
“You bet we would!” Jack scraped back his chair and threw his napkin on the table.
Whitney’s hand slipped up to cover her heart.
“What do you say, Whitney? Do you think Jack and Kimie have behaved well enough for a day by the ocean?” Ben said.
She nodded vigorously and tilted her head to peer at the lackluster ceiling, trying to tip back the tears threatening to spill.
An hour later, loaded with blankets and a picnic basket, the enclosed carriage bumped down the road. Whitney and the twins sat across from Ben and me. Jack and Kimie chatted and giggled with excitement over the day ahead.
Jack held his sister’s hand while pointing out the window with the other. “Lookie there, Kimie,” he said, referring to something of interest he’d spotted. She ducked her head close to him to take a peek.
I shared a grin with Whitney and then looked to Ben. I found him watching me as if he was studying me. I smiled, and he returned one of his own. He reached out a hand and covered mine where it lay on the seat.
“Is everything all right, Uncle?”
His smile widened for my benefit, but in his eyes simmered a darkness that confused me. “Absolutely. Couldn’t be better,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Good.” I pushed the uneasiness from my mind. For one day, I wanted to relish the moment and forget about the rest of the world.
Without warning, the carriage jerked, and our driver Thomas’s voice called out, “Whoa!”
Whitney and I exchanged a look before we turned troubled eyes on Ben. His brow wrinkled, he pushed back the curtain and popped his head outside. “What appears to be the problem?”
“A tree has fallen, blocking de road, Masa,” Thomas called back as we came to a stop.
Ben opened the door and stepped out. “Let me help you, Mr. Hendricks,” Jack said, hopping out behind him.
“Very well. The more manpower we have, the sooner we’ll be on our way.” Ben squeezed his thin shoulder, and they disappeared around the front of the carriage.
“Having Mr. Hendricks home will be good for Jack,” Whitney said.
“It’ll be good—”
A gunshot split the peacefulness of the morning.
Cold panic rushed down my body.
Whitney’s face drained of color, and she grabbed for Kimie.
Another shot cracked.
“Get down!” I cried.
They dove to the floor in a heap of petticoats and fabric. Whitney shielded Kimie with her body. Fear like I’d never heard before sounded in Whitney’s voice. “Jack is out there.”
My tongue thick and dry, I nodded in acknowledgment.
Jack. Ben. Thomas.
Her fear was my own.
Was it the masked men?
I crouched low in the seat and slid a hand up to draw back the curtain and peeked outside. The thundering of horses’ hooves tightened my chest. Another shot rang out, followed by a scream. I dropped my hand and squeezed my eyes shut. No. Please…no.
“A fine morning for a carriage ride,” a coarse voice rang out.
“So the rumors are true,” Ben said with disdain.
“In fact, they are,” came a reply.
“What do you want from us?”
“I’ll ask the questions.”
I heard a meaty thud and then the unmistakable sound of bone snapping under a blow. A grunt and a string of curses chilled my blood.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the stranger said. “You—remove his holster.
“All right, you in the carriage, out, now!”
Kimie started to scream.
I pushed open the door with my foot, and Whitney stepped out and turned to reach for her sister. Kimie pushed back against me, shaking her head no as her screams turned to whimpers. My hand shook as I brushed back Kimie’s sweat-drenched hair. “Go to your sister. We can’t stay here,” I whispered.
Her eyes large with panic, she inched toward the waiting arms of Whitney.
“Come on, hurry it up,” the man barked.
On shaking legs, I exited the carriage and looked around.
Thomas�
��s eyes begged the ground to open up and swallow him. Ben stood with an arm around Jack, who had his face buried in Ben’s side. His soft mewling gripped at my heart. Blood from a gash on Ben’s left cheek trickled down and curved under his jaw. Ben’s shoulders were arched back, and he boldly stared at our attackers.
Perched on horses sat three masked men. The speaker was on the taller side, the middle man was of average height, and the one behind them had a huskier build. Their horses weren’t branded. Fully cloaked in coats, hats, gloves, and the masks, the men’s identity proved impossible to guess.
The speaker cocked his head in our direction. “Well, what do I have here?” He nudged his horse with his heels, and the beast moved toward us. The man stopped inches from my face. A sweet, faint odor emanated from him. His mount snorted its protest, and its saliva splattered my face.
I didn’t move. The saliva ran down my face, over my lips, and darkened the neck of my high-collared cream blouse.
Save for the dark eyeholes, the man’s mask concealed all facial features. He sat upright in his saddle and swerved his mount back toward the other two. His closeness pinned me against the carriage. “You collect their valuables.” He motioned to the huskier man and then circled his attention back on us. “One movement from any of you, and you’ll wish you’d never awakened this day.”
The huskier man jumped down from his mount, his feet hitting the ground with a heavy thump. He strode over to Whitney. Without speaking, he pulled her locket from her neck and dropped it into a small potato sack before continuing on to me. I removed my garnet earrings and the cameo broach pinned on the collar of my blouse and shoved them into his hand.
Moving to stand in front of Ben, he reached for his pocket watch, and Ben’s hand flew up.
A gunshot echoed.
Ben jerked back, and I screamed and leaped forward.
“Not another movement, or it will be the last thing you see.” The leader’s voice froze me; his gun was now aimed at my forehead.
Jack’s screams elevated the terror inside me. His hands mauled at his ears. Kimie’s wails added to the nightmare unraveling around us.
Without turning my head, I glanced sideways at Ben, who stood clutching his shoulder. Tears poured from me. He was alive.
That thought was plucked from me at the sound of a thud. All eyes swerved to Thomas, who lay crumpled on the ground. Still. Lifeless. The shot fired had grazed Ben’s shoulder and found a new mark in Thomas’s neck. A burgundy puddle stained the ground. My throat constricted.
“No…” Whitney cried softly. “No…no.” Thomas, the driver from the Barry Plantation, had found refuge at Livingston after the slaves set the fire that took Whitney’s father’s life, along with his overseer and his men.
“Thomas!” Kimie started to run to him, but Whitney grabbed the back of her dress, pulling her back, as the leader fired a warning shot at the child’s feet.
“Get control of the child, or I’ll spill her guts where she stands.” His cold, emotionless tone sliced through me. “You, get the boy to shut up, or he gets the next one.” He cocked the gun and gestured for Ben to silence Jack.
“All right,” Ben said. “No more bloodshed.” He scooped Whitney’s lanky brother into his arms. Jack buried his face in Ben’s neck, and quiet sobs shook his body.
A deep, sinister laugh came from the third man who’d remained quiet until now.
“Silence!” the leader ordered. To the collector of our valuables, he said, “Get that pocket watch.”
A stony grimace formed on Ben’s face as the man stepped forward to remove the watch. There was a hard glint in his eyes that I’d never seen before.
“Hand it to me.” The leader extended the fingers of his brown riding gloves.
The collector yanked the watch from Ben’s vest pocket, then moved, his footfalls heavy, to stand in front of the leader. The collector dipped his head to peer at the ground as if in reverence and held up the watch to his boss.
The man snatched the watch and rolled it over in his hand. A scornful snort came from him, and he read aloud the engraving on the back. “‘To the keeper of my heart, Olivia.’ Well, ain’t that nice.” Loathing echoed in his voice. His grip tightened on the watch, and he mumbled something I couldn’t pick up before slipping it inside his saddlebag.
He signaled with two fingers in the air, and he and the other man spurred their horses. The horses took off, sending Whitney, Kimie, and me diving to get out of their way. I hit the ground with a hard jolt.
The collector mounted and nudged his horse forward. He pulled on his reins as he hovered over me. He craned his neck, and a grunt sounded in his throat. A shot whizzed by the head of the collector and ripped through the side of the carriage.
I shut my eyes, and the dirt scraped at my palms as tremors coursed through me.
“Come on, you damn fool!” the boss man hollered.
I sputtered, spitting out the earth kicked up by the collector’s horse as the rider wheeled it and touched its ribs with his boots.
“Willow.” Ben’s voice quaked with emotion. The scuffing of his boots was followed by the blinding sunlight in my eyes as he pulled me back to inspect me for injuries. “Are you shot?” His pained gaze roved over me.
“No, I’m all right,” I said through a flood of tears.
I felt his wince as he crushed me to his chest. “Your arm, is it bad?” I wiggled out of his protective arms. His blood had blackened the shoulder of his coat.
“Nothing I can’t patch up when we get home.” He stood and pulled me up with him. Concern shadowed his face as he peered at Whitney and Kimie. “Are you all right?”
“Shaken, but fine.” Whitney sat on the ground with a teary Kimie.
Jack stood next to Ben and me. His lip quivered. I reached for him, and without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around my waist. Gone was the boy wanting to be a man before his time. In his place was a child looking for someone to soothe away the terror coursing through him. “Everything will be all right,” I whispered, pulling him back and cupping the sides of his face. “Ben’s here now. He’ll take care of us.” I looked past him to Ben.
Ben’s face was set firm, a look that reminded me of my father. Sadness and determination filled his eyes; anger and worry. “Get the children in the carriage,” he ordered before hurrying to Thomas’s side.
Maybe it was the doctor in him, but regardless of a status we already knew, Ben checked for a pulse on the dead man. He heaved a sigh and hoisted the man over his shoulder and laid him on the driver’s seat, then climbed up himself as Whitney shuffled the children inside. Ben’s once-white cotton shirt shone crimson with the man’s blood. “Please, Willow, get in the carriage,” he said, his voice abrasive.
At a speed that sent his passengers grasping at the ceiling and door frames to keep from being thrown side to side, Ben raced the carriage toward Livingston.
MAMMY BOUNDED DOWN THE STEPS with Mary Grace and Tillie on her heels as our carriage raced up the lane.
Ben jerked the carriage to an abrupt stop.
“What happened?” Mammy’s expression was sharp and assessing as she pulled open the carriage door.
Kimie stepped out, and Mammy pulled her into an embrace at her side. Her hand stroked the girl’s back. “Oh, Mammy, it was awful. These men, they—they—” Her voice broke.
“Hush now, chile. You don’t have to speak on et,” Mammy said.
Mary Grace reached for Jack as he stumbled out of the carriage in a daze. No tears came from the boy, only hiccups from previous tears. He stared, emotionless.
Jimmy and Jones ran into the yard. “Help me with him,” Ben instructed, lowering Thomas’s body to them.
The men laid the body on the ground.
“Come, chillum.” Mammy placed an arm around each twin’s shoulders and guided them toward the steps.
Whitney’s eyes never lifted to meet mine as she patted my arm. Her face was pale and blank as she trailed behind Mammy and the twins, as if sh
e’d removed herself from the present moment.
“Miss Willow, are you all right?” Mary Grace’s brow puckered with concern.
“I’ll be fine. You and Tillie go assist Whitney and the children. I need to talk to my uncle.” I smoothed my hair with my hand.
They nodded and hurried off.
Jimmy and a field hand carried off the body. Ben stood speaking to Jones.
“Get two horses saddled. You and I’ll be paying the constable a visit,” Ben said.
“Right away, Mr. Hendricks,” Jones said. His eyes fell on me as I came to stand by Ben. “You get a look at them, Miss?”
“One spoke, but his voice wasn’t familiar. They were covered from head to toe. Nothing stood out that would reveal their identity,” I said.
Jones expelled a heavy breath, and his eyes dropped to the ground.
“All right, get the horses and make sure you’re armed.”
Jones flipped back his coat to reveal his gun in its holster.
Ben dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Very well.”
Dismissed, Jones left to fetch the horses, and I followed Ben inside.
He disappeared down the corridor to his room and returned with his medical bag. I helped him out of his coat and shirt. “Please get my uncle a fresh shirt and coat,” I said to Tillie, who waited just inside the threshold.
“Yessum.”
Ben tended to the wound, which appeared to be nothing more than a flesh wound, for which I breathed a prayer of thanks. Dressed in a clean shirt and coat, he moved to the gun cabinet and took out Father’s Colt revolver. He cracked back the hammer and peered down the barrel.
Unnerved by the morning catastrophe, I said, “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” His tone was harsh. He lifted his head to look at me, the revolver still arched in midair.
Angry tears welled in my eyes. “I’m not sitting around here, waiting for your return. I’ll be sick with worry.”
“Jones and I won’t be back until evening. I need you here managing things.”
“But I—”
“Willow, I said no!” he snapped. His eyes narrowed, and the man before me melted. In his place stood Charles Hendricks.
