Spinning Out Of Control

by Vickie McDonough

“Amy.” Micah’s soft whisper filtered through the darkness.

  She grabbed her bed jacket off the end off the bed, donned it, and tiptoed into the other room.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help.” He’d turned up the lantern, and a soft glow illuminated the room.

  Amy lowered the quilt dividing the two rooms so the light wouldn’t awaken the others. “What’s wrong?”

  “Grab some bandages and your medicine supplies—and hurry.”

  “Why?”

  “Just come on. You’ll see.”

  Amy gathered what she needed, set the supplies on the table, and sat down to put on her shoes.

  “We don’t have time for that.” Micah handed her the supplies; then he bent over and scooped her into his arms.

  “Micah!”

  “It’s faster this way. Hold on.”

  Amy held tight to his neck as he jogged toward the barn. All manner of thoughts skittered across her mind, not the least of which was how good it felt to be so close to Micah with his arms holding her tightly. As they entered the barn, Amy saw a soft light shining on the far wall. When they came to the open door in the floor, Micah set her down.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid, but it’s pretty ugly down there.” He trailed his finger down her cheek, scattering her thoughts like chaff in the wind.

  He headed down the ladder then turned to aid her. She handed him the supplies, which he passed to someone else, then made her way down, with Micah’s hands on her waist. As her bare feet touched the hay-covered floor, Micah steadied her and held on tightly when she turned.

  Gasping, she lifted her hand to her mouth. A young black child lay on a cot in the downstairs room, his back bleeding. A Negro woman who looked to be Micah’s age, sat beside the bed, cooing to the child and rubbing his head. Ben stood against the back wall, looking pale.

  Amy glanced at Micah. “What happened?”

  “He was the plantation owner’s whipping boy. Whenever the master’s son disobeyed, Nathan suffered severe punishment.” Micah motioned to the black woman. “Naomi is his mother. She finally took him, and with Simon’s help”—he paused and motioned to a huge, quiet man sitting in the corner—“ran away, fearing her master would soon kill the boy.”

  “That’s horrible!” Amy rushed to Nathan’s side, unsure if she had the skills to help him. “I’ll do what I can, but you might want to get Jonah. He knows things I don’t.”

  “I’ll get him,” Ben offered. He scurried up the ladder and disappeared.

  “Ben already got water.” Micah nodded to a small table at the head of the bed.

  Amy examined the boy. His back looked as if it had been cut open with a whip. Who could do this to a child? Tears blurred her eyes as she glanced at the boy’s mother. “I’ll do my best for Nathan.”

  Naomi sent her a soft smile and nodded. Amy squeezed water out of the cloth in the bowl and dabbed Nathan’s back. She turned and looked at Micah. “I’m going to need more water and more light.”

  Micah climbed the ladder without responding. A few minutes later, he returned carrying another lantern. Jonah followed, and then Ben, lugging a bucket of water.

  Amy worked feverishly, cleaning the unconscious boy’s wounds. Jonah applied his special salve, and together they put on bandages. She wiped the sweat from her brow, even though the underground room was cooler than up above. Finally, she looked at Micah. He leaned against the dirt wall, eyes closed. She was sure he was praying.

  Rubbing her back where it ached from bending for so long, she crossed the room and touched Micah’s sleeve. His eyes opened; then he glanced at Nathan. She read the question in his gaze and shrugged. “I did my best for him.”

  His smile loosed a butterfly war in her stomach. “I know you did. Thanks. I should probably take you back to the house so you can get some rest.”

  Amy shook her head. “I’ll stay with Nathan.”

  “Naomi and Jonah can look after him now. You need your rest, so you can care for the girls tomorrow.”

  Bone tired, Amy didn’t argue but allowed Micah to guide her up the ladder. At the top, he lifted her again and carried her toward the cabin. She allowed her arm to rest along his neck as she contemplated what had happened tonight. Her heart ached, thinking about what Nathan had endured in his young life. He couldn’t be more than six or seven. How brave and yet fearful his mother must have been to run away like she did.

  Runaway.

  The term slowly seeped into her weary mind. They were runaways. Big as he was, not even Simon had been in chains or tied up. Joy surged through her, making even her toes tingle.

  When they reached the cabin, Micah set her down on the bottom step rather than the ground. As she stared at him eye-to-eye, she couldn’t keep from smiling. Somehow deep inside, she knew his character wouldn’t allow him to deal slaves.

  Micah reached out and lifted her heavy braid off her shoulder and let it fall behind her back. She held her breath as he drew a callused finger along her jawline. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did tonight. You gave that boy a chance to live.”

  “So did you.”

  Micah’s hands rested lightly on her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re helping them get to freedom in the North, aren’t you?”

  Heaving a sigh that warmed her face, Micah lowered his hands off her shoulders and massaged her upper arms. “I didn’t want you to know what Ben and I are doing. If someone like Hank Foster questioned you, I wanted you to be able to respond honestly.”

  “You were protecting me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I knew it in my heart. I didn’t see how someone who believes in God could be a slave trader. You don’t know how happy it makes me to know for sure.”

  Amy tossed her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against his. He stood there loosed-armed, as if in shock, then tightened his grip, crushing her against his chest.

  “Amy.”

  Hearing his husky voice, she leaned back, barely able to see his features in the moonlight. Then his lips were on hers, full and warm. He tightened his hold on her, nearly squashing off her breath as he deepened his kiss. Her heart pounded a wild, staccato chant as she savored her first kiss.

  Suddenly, Micah pulled back, holding her upper arms. His ragged breath matched hers. Her heart sang, keeping tempo with the chorus of crickets chirping all around them. Then Micah loosened his hold on her and let go altogether. She could feel his stare and wondered what he was thinking. His kiss was more than she’d ever dreamed it would be and ignited in her a craving for more. Now she understood the pull between man and woman.

  “I. . .good night, Amy.”

  She touched her lips as he strode off, disappearing into the night shadows. Her heart was so light, Amy nearly floated up the steps and into the cabin, but she couldn’t help wondering how her kisses had compared to Kathryn’s.

  Sixteen

  Micah strode back toward the barn, mentally berating himself for kissing Amy. He was the one who wanted to make this a business arrangement because he knew marrying Amy was the only way to guarantee her staying here. And he needed her.

  She’d also be protected from men like Hank, who were only looking for a pretty woman to marry up with.

  Guilt battled with the desire to go back and kiss her again. As he had prayed the past weeks, Micah felt sure it was God’s will to ask Amy to marry him, but now he was confused. Was it fair to her? Sure, he cared for her, and she stirred a passion within him. He was a man, after all. But was it right to marry Amy, knowing he’d failed to make his first wife happy?

  He’d taken Kathryn away from the city where she was raised and brought her to this rugged farm. She’d been in love and hadn’t minded living there at first, but as time wore on, she became less content. He didn’t want to make that mistake again. Did he have it within him to please Amy? Would she remain content in future years like she was now?

  As he reached the barn door, he paused and look
ed heavenward. “Lord, if marrying Amy is a mistake, please make it clear to me. I can’t marry and listen to my wife crying in the dark again. If Amy won’t be happy here, show me, before I make another mistake.”

  ❧

  Amy smoothed down the skirt of her new dress. Her insides quivered as she recalled Micah’s compliment when he first saw her in the gold calico. He said the brown in the design made her eyes stand out. She hoped that was a good thing.

  The wagon she was riding in hit a rut, tossing her against Micah’s arm. Beth’s giggle punctuated the quiet group.

  “That was fun. Do it again, Papa.” Beth bounced on Jonah’s lap, where they sat in the back of the wagon with Sookie, who held Missy. Ben rode ahead of the wagon on his horse.

  Micah’s grin and shared glances sent shivers of delight charging a path through the goose bumps on Amy’s arms. She smiled, remembering how excited the family had been when Micah announced at last night’s dinner that he and Amy were getting married. The family had already planned to ride into town today for the annual July 4th celebration, so she and Micah would tie the knot this afternoon in a small ceremony.

  “Is Sophie comin’, too?”

  Amy turned on the seat, her knee bumping Micah’s leg. “Yes, she is. Her mother is standing up with me at the wedding.”

  “I want to stand up, too.” Beth bounced up and plopped down again.

  Amy noticed Jonah’s grimace. “You need to be still, Beth, or you can’t sit on Jonah’s lap. You’re hurting him by bouncing.”

  Beth nodded, then glanced over her shoulder at Jonah and grinned.

  Half an hour later, Beth crawled over the back of the wagon seat and sat by her father as Micah dropped Amy off at the store. He drove down the street toward the schoolhouse, which also served as the church, while she went inside the mercantile. Sookie and Jonah were up to something and didn’t want her around for a bit. She suspected it had to do with whatever sat in the corner of the wagon, covered with a quilt. Since Missy was asleep, Sookie kept the baby with her, and Ben rode off, looking for some of his friends.

  Cherishing a few minutes to herself, Amy went inside to see if she could find Micah a wedding gift. A bevy of scents greeted her as she stepped farther into the store. Four silver dollars jingled in her pocket—her pay for the months she’d worked at the Walsh farm. After handing her supply list to Mrs. Maples, she walked around looking at things she thought Micah might like.

  Since she could sew well, she bypassed the ready-made clothing and looked at the pocket watches. Bright and shiny, they beckoned to her, but practicality won out, and she moved down the counter and looked inside another glass case. Several razors lay side by side, folded shut. The only time she’d come outside and caught Micah shaving, he’d been using a hunting knife. A razor wasn’t a glamorous gift, but useful. Hoping Micah would be pleased, she handed over one of her coins and bought the razor and a sack of penny candy to share on the trip home, then pocketed both items along with her change and bid Mrs. Maples good day.

  Nervous excitement tickled her stomach as she left the store and headed for the schoolhouse. In less than an hour, she and Micah would be married. She knew in her heart this was God’s will and trusted Him that Micah would come to love her as she did him. Smiling at the thought, she ambled down the steps of the boardwalk, trying to take in everything going on around her. The whole town bubbled with excitement, and some folks had even decorated the outsides of their businesses in red, white, and blue swags. At the end of the street, she could see a stage with a group of singers on it, who were belting out “The Liberty Song.”

  As she approached the livery, she contemplated crossing the street but realized how silly that was. Hank Foster couldn’t bother her now that she was getting married. She almost made it past the open doors, but Hank suddenly stepped out, blocking her path. Her heart nearly jumped to her throat.

  “Howdy there, darlin’. I saw you come into town. ’Bout time you come to see me.”

  Amy glanced away, hoping to catch a glimpse of Micah. With the celebration in full swing, the streets swarmed with people driving wagons, walking, and riding horses. The town buzzed with conversation, almost as if it was a living being, but nobody was paying any attention to Hank and her.

  He stepped closer. “I got somethin’ to show you.” He nodded toward the livery. “Won’t take but a minute.”

  Amy shook her head. “I need to be somewhere. People are waiting for me.”

  “Let ’em wait. This’ll only take a minute.”

  Hank moved between Amy and the street. She backed up several steps to get away, and suddenly realized her mistake as she moved into the shadow of the livery’s tall roof. She sidestepped, hoping to dart past Hank, but he was too quick. As he moved closer, she reversed her steps again, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting.

  “Right over here.” Hank pointed toward a stall in the corner where a mother dog lay with her litter of puppies.

  Amy heaved a sigh of relief, and her pulse slowed. Perhaps Hank only wanted her to see the dogs. If she humored him, perhaps she could leave without incident. “Oh, how cute.” She feigned excitement and stooped near the entrance of the stall. Hank stood close behind her.

  “Thought maybe that little gal of Micah’s might like a pup.”

  A fat black and white puppy noticed Amy’s wagging finger and waddled toward her. Beth would love a puppy, but as long as Micah and Ben were helping runaways, they couldn’t have a dog on the property. She patted the little female’s head and giggled as it licked her hand.

  As much as she liked the dogs, she had something more pressing to attend to. She stood and faced Hank, smiling. “They’re adorable. I’ll ask Micah, but I’m not sure he wants a dog. He’s training some horses he bought, and a dog might be a bother.”

  “Well, I reckon you can ask him and see what he thinks. Since you’re already here, would you mind having a look at a sick pup?”

  Amy glanced back at the litter, but all five puppies looked perfectly healthy to her.

  “Not there. It’s in the tack room.” Hank nodded toward a door in the back of the livery, which lead to a dark room. “I separated it so the others wouldn’t take sick.”

  Amy blew out a breath. She needed to get to the school-house, but then again, the wedding couldn’t start without her, and she hated the thought of a puppy suffering if she could help. “All right, but I need to be quick.”

  Hank held out his hand for her to precede him, so she turned toward the open door. She stepped inside the dim room and waited for her eyes to adjust. It smelled like the rest of the livery—of horses, leather, hay, and Hank. She lifted a hand to cover her nose.

  Hank chuckled behind her, and she spun around. “Got you just where I want you. I reckon if you won’t marry me, I’ll use you for barter. Think Micah will cut me in on his slave trading in exchange for you?”

  Amy felt the blood drain from her face. She’d always believed there was something not altogether right with Hank Foster, but even though she’d seen him fairly frequently, she didn’t know him well and had hoped she was wrong.

  “You can’t keep me here against my will. And I told you, Micah isn’t a slave trader.”

  “Maybe you don’t know what is and what ain’t.”

  She straightened and lifted her chin. “I know Micah. He’s a God-fearing man who wouldn’t want to prosper from another person’s pain.”

  A wheeze of a laugh erupted from Hank, sending chills up Amy’s arms. “I don’t reckon you know him as good as you think you do. Word’s all over town that he’s dealing slaves.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Amy glared at Hank. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with spreading those rumors, did you?”

  Hank’s eyebrows dipped in a scowl. “Now there’s no call to be unkind. All I wanted was a chance to make some money and marry up with you. But I can see you don’t fancy me. I guess you’ve only got eyes for Micah. Maybe if he fancies you enough, he’ll b
e willing to deal with me.” Hank stepped forward, blocking the doorway.

  Amy’s body trembled. Her legs felt like mush, but she stepped back, suddenly falling over something behind her. She landed on her backside with a thud and glared up at Hank.

  “I’ll just leave you here to think a bit while I go down and have me some of Mabel Perkins’s apple pie. Maybe if you get hungry enough, you’ll see reason and be willing to talk to Micah for me. And don’t go hollering at nobody, or I might have to do something to that dark-headed little gal you’re so fond of.”

  He fiddled with a thick strand of leather, looping it through a knothole in the door and then through another hole in the wall. As he shut the door and tied it securely, leaving her in the dark, Amy’s breath sounded in short, ragged bursts. Tears stung her eyes and her backside ached. How had she gotten into this mess? If only she’d crossed the street when she’d had that premonition. Had that been God warning her?

  Something skittered across the floor, and Amy jumped to her feet. Streams of sunlight shone through the cracks in the wall and dappled the room with specks of light. An old table sat in one corner, covered in an array of papers, tin cups, and trenchers coated with dried food. A mass of cockroaches scurried across the trenchers and along the rim of the cups. Amy shivered and moved to the door. She shoved, and it rattled but didn’t budge.

  Leaning against the door, Amy stared up at the ceiling. “Oh Lord, please help me. And don’t let Hank get his hands on Beth. Keep her safe, and show me a way of escape.”

  Seventeen

  Jiggling Missy on his arm, Micah paced in front of the school-house and glanced at the sky. Amy had been gone nearly an hour and a half. Anxiety battled with common sense. Surely she had simply gotten distracted. The flowers Sookie had used to decorate the school as a surprise for Amy were already wilting.

  Ben stepped up beside him and looked down the street. “Where do you think she is? You wouldn’t expect a woman to be late to her own wedding.”

  “Perhaps she had to wait at the store. With all the people in town, there may have been a line.”