“Look like? Oh, ’bout fifty, with black hair—what he had left. Why?”
“No reason.” She looked away and chewed at her bottom lip.
Luke felt the elderly man’s eyes search his face, but Perleu didn’t voice any wonderings. He sipped his coffee.
Ella stood and got Hannah a drink of water. “Amos, do you want some?”
“Yes.”
“I sure want ta thank ye,” Perleu said to her and watched Amos drink a gourd full of tepid water.
“We’ve seen no one else in a space of time, ’cept one family.”
“An’ right now … ye prefer it that way,” Perleu slyly said.
He wasn’t joking.
She frowned at him. “I do? I didn’t say that.”
“She didn’t say that.” Luke felt himself bristle at Perleu’s insinuating remark. “I feel you’re referring I might be the cause of her supposed preference.”
“Ye talk very well, but with an accent. Schooled and French.” Perleu uttered a dry chuckle. “Don’t fret none, I don’t butt in where someone’s business is concerned, but ye might find it worthy ta know three slave catchers—bounty men—stayed over at Fort Brooke four days ago.”
“And why do you bring it up?” Luke asked, but he knew the answer. The tramp surmised he wasn’t Ella’s slave.
“Oh, jest conversin’. They’ve gathered a bunch of runaways. They’re headed back north with their booty, but an extra handsome one, even if he bears white traces in his skin colorin’, is always a plus. Whip marks don’t matter.”
Luke quivered with indignation at the old man’s words.
“They ain’t goin’ by boat.” Perleu coughed and wiped at his mouth, his eyes still locked with Luke’s. “Ye oughta be watchful. They’re hunters—the bad kind.” His green eyes slid shut for a moment, as if in deep thought, and then flew open. He stared directly at Luke. “Yep, some of us must keeps movin’ an’ walkin’ the sandy trail. I got ta git myself up an’ let it tickle my toes. Not much of a moon tonight—mostly gone.” He set the empty cup on the bench beside him and wiped his dirty shirtsleeve across his mouth.
Hannah and Amos both looked at his feet encased in someone’s castoff boots. The soles were worn through and the right boot was cracked on the top.
“It cain’t tickle your toes,” Hannah said, pointing down at Perleu’s boots.
“Oh, say, yer right!” he said. “I have boots!”
“Won’t you stay the night?” Ella’s voice gave away her sympathy for the elderly man. “You may use the porch. I’ll offer meat. We’ve been smoking some strips. Besides, a storm’s comin’. You’ll git wet an’ cold.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t worry ’bout storms—that’s when I git bathed. I made me a palm branch shelter near the river. I smelt your meat, but prefer soft fish ta eat. I kin pick apart a catfish in no time.” He struggled to his feet—bent double—until he could gingerly straighten upright. “But, if it were a fierce gale, I’d worry an’ be back to set a spell. An’ gerl—keep on smilin’, ’cause yer gonna grow up pretty like yer ma.” He tapped his cane on the top of Hannah’s head, causing her to giggle and hide her face.
“Come anytime.” Ella moved Amos out of the man’s way
Perleu lifted his pack, headed for the steps, and gained the ground without a mishap. He switched around and faced the silent group. Reflections from the setting sun made him seem sickly. “Let it be known … soldiers might happen by an’ remove ya. Ban on settlin’ within twenty miles. Of the river—that is.”
Ella nodded. “I was told that.”
“The last folks who built this left of their own accord … due to a death. Thank ye fer the coffee. It did my heart good.” He nodded his head and hobbled away, his cackling laugh drifting back to them.
“What do you think?” Ella whispered. “He must know ’bout the Culloms which lived here. Right?”
“Because of the … ‘due to a death’?”
“Yes.”
Luke shook his head. “I don’t know, but I imagine he’ll be back. You can ask him next time. He liked your coffee. I’ll sleep near the fire tonight.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be out there to keep watch and protect the meat from wild animals. I’ll make sure you have some to eat tonight.”
As he walked away, Luke felt Ella’s eyes following him. He knew she studied the scars on his back, recalling what Perleu said about white traces. He squared his shoulders. But, for the first time, he wished he owned a shirt to pull on and cover the blemish, which told the world he was a branded slave. He wished Ella had never seen the bumpy scars.
Chapter 21
Monday, November 15, 1847
The children went down for a nap after playing in the sunlight on the warm side of the cabin. The month of November brought more touches of fall. Dead leaves drifted to the ground, but only a few maples had splendid colors of mountain foliage.
Ella finished washing clothes, and Luke helped her empty the large kettle.
“I miss my husband.”
“Cherish his memory, but release yourself from grief. Show your children what happiness can be.” He voiced a gentle warning.
She felt her throat constrict. “Release my feelin’s for him?”
“No. Just don’t let yourself keep recalling the pain of his passing. Look ahead.”
“I cain’t help it,” she whispered.
“Anger will become the pain.”
“What?”
“You’ll become angry at him for dying.”
“I don’t …” She paused, not knowing how to answer him, but she knew he was right. She felt resentment toward Jim for agreeing to follow Duncan.
Luke changed the subject. “I saw what resembled wolf tracks this morning. Better keep the young ones close.” He tugged at the shirt sticking to his back and made a face.
Ella had cut up a couple of Jim’s shirts and added a piece down the middle of the back—to make them bigger—so they’d fit Luke’s heftier build and deep chest. She figured he didn’t find the homespun material comfortable. But she asked him to wear a shirt when he was in her presence and around the children.
Although, she admitted to herself, she could understand the comfort of going without a shirt. Even the November days were sometimes warm.
“Luke, the cow was restless last night. I saw two ’coons in the trough, when I took the lantern out to check. But I didn’t hear wolves howlin’.”
“Don’t go out after dark.” Luke ran a hand up the side of his jaw. A fine shadow, deeper than his skin tone, showed where his close-clipped beard had been. Sometime during the night, he had managed to shave it off. “I’m planning to clear the brush out of the sinkhole—burn it out. I’m thinking, once it’s clear, I might dig the center and see what happens. Water seems to flow in, even without rain. It stays filled at the bottom.”
“Natural flow or somethin’?” Ella was used to springs and seeps in the mountains. “It’s what our springhouse sat on. Coldest water you could git. Made my teeth ache. It went on through the ravine to form a large creek runnin’ clear off the side of our knob. Sprayed over the edge, like a falls.” She stopped talking and chewed at her bottom lip, feeling homesick.
They walked to the steps. He lingered. “I’m going to make some palmetto leaf mats for the cabin floor—to cover the gaps.”
“Oh, thank you!”
“I’ll take the wagon for more water and try fishing. Should be back before sunset.”
“We enjoyed the last six you caught.” She clasped her hands at her waist, wanting to voice her feelings, but feared he’d take it wrong. “Luke, it’s been an answer to prayer to have you here. I’m hopin’ you know you’re … a true friend.”
“Thank you for saying that.” He smiled while rubbing the side of his smooth-shaven jaw. “What I gathered from the Indians helped me survive. In turn, it’s helped you.”
Luke’s attention abruptly switched from her face to the pine forest behind the barn. H
is dark eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Someone’s coming,” he hissed. With one quick turn, he slipped behind a nearby oak. Its wide trunk hid his body. “Go pick up the gun and casually walk toward me. I’ll take it from you.” He pulled the shirt over his head. “This light colored shirt won’t let me hide.”
She got the gun and did as he said, but her eyes stayed glued to the woods. A horse and rider separated from the tree line and rode toward the cabin. The set of the wide shoulders and the horse’s black coloring made her heart leap.
“Samuel!” She snatched her skirt above her ankles and ran.
But before she reached him, Samuel was off the horse and sprinting toward her. He caught her in a hug and swung her in a circle. “Girl, you’re a sight for lonely eyes!”
As her feet touched the ground, Ella laughed and brushed his whiskered cheek with the tips of her fingers—to make sure it was him. “Oh, Samuel, you found us!” But her laugh faltered and changed to ragged sobs.
“Don’t cry.” He placed his left hand on her shoulder. “Ella Dessa, don’t! It’s my fault. I got lost leaving the village, and then, your blue ribbons gave out. But I found one at the fork in the trail … near the river.” He removed his hat. “I didn’t think you’d miss me this much.” His chuckle sounded forced. “What’s wrong?” He pulled the horse toward the worn fence and flipped the reins over the top rail.
“There … there’s bad news. I need to—” She struggled to find the words. “Jim got bit by a rattler.” Her fingers clenched his shirt material, wadding it tight.
He stared over her shoulder. “Where is he?”
She shook her head. The pain in her heart expanded as she saw understanding fill his amazing blue-green eyes.
“No.” He whirled away, dropping his hat. With his back toward her, his left hand gripped the top rail of the fence. At first, his wide shoulders convulsed in silent sobs, and then with the stub of his right arm, he beat at the weathered wood. “No, no,” he moaned and broke into harsh sobs. “Not Jim. Not my brother!”
She wrapped an arm around his waist and supported him until the violent shaking eased.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, his left hand covering his face. “He can’t be gone!”
Blood dripped from his scarred, handless wrist. Ella brushed at her tears, slipped a handkerchief from the bodice of her dress, and bound it around the raw skin on his arm. Her heart broke over his pain and loss, but she couldn’t think of any comfort. Her own feelings of bereavement still felt raw and exposed. Instead, she retrieved his hat and slipped her hand in his.
“A … a friend found his body an’ buried him under the spread of massive live oaks—in the woods.”
“Tell me … from the beginning,” he gasped. “I want to know how he died. Did he suffer?”
Gently, she tugged on his sleeve. “Shall we sit? Come, I use this log when I need to think and pray.” She led him to a nearby fallen tree.
Samuel’s fingernails dug into the log. I can’t believe Jim’s gone. It can’t be true. I shouldn’t have gone with Duncan.
He felt numb, as if everything in the world had vanished. A vile joke had been played on him. Life had ripped away his stronghold—his oldest brother. He swallowed and tried to listen to Ella Dessa’s soft-spoken words, but he wanted to jump up and yell it wasn’t possible—it had to be a mistake.
Jim wouldn’t let a snake’s bite take him away from his family!
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t even go look for him. I had the children to think of.” Her voice quivered.
He turned toward her. “You couldn’t? Don’t blame yourself. It’s this land that’s to blame—this wild, wet land. I hate it!” The fingers of his left hand curled into a fist. He couldn’t voice the depth of his anguish to Ella Dessa, but he also knew he didn’t have to tell her.
She understood.
Jim had been a constant support all his life. They bantered and joked and fought—even clashed over Ella Dessa in years past. But they also loved each other, despite the four years separating them. He didn’t know how he could go on, knowing Jim wouldn’t walk life with him.
He fought to comprehend the loss—wished to take revenge on his brother’s account. But there was no murderer to chase down or human to blame.
“What if I had gotten here sooner?” he whispered. “Could I have saved him?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling the three-day growth of whiskers. Guilt lashed him.
“No … no, Samuel.” She kept her head bowed. “He went into the woods, hunting our cows. It was a friend of … mine, who found him days later—”
“This swampy wilderness took him from us! I feel guilt that I wasn’t here.”
Her blue eyes blinked. “Don’t. I believe God helped the children an’ I survive thus far, even though I find it hard to see a future without Jim. The children miss him. Hannah even screams at the sight of an earthworm, ’cause it looks like a snake.”
He gazed at his worn boots. “They’re so young—to go through this.” He pushed his hand up over his face and through his hair, feeling the sweat and grime of the last few days. “And you needed him.” He dared to study her pale face, finding shadows of emptiness where joy once lit her countenance and blue eyes.
“Yes.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her right ear and leaned her head against his shoulder in a companionable reflex—a tangible trace of childhood years left behind. “I’ve struggled to be strong.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ll take his memory with us, but we must decide to go back home. I feel this was his dream, and the mountains call to me now, stronger than ever.”
She nodded and sniffled. “Yes.”
“I’d like to see the children.” Dancing sunlight edged between tree branches and played over the ground. “I’ve worried so much in the last weeks! I want to hug Amos and Hannah. You don’t know the torment I’ve gone through … not being able to find you and Jim. I saw Indians a few times and hid from them, which only made me more anxious.”
“I wanted you here, but dreaded what I had to tell you.” She stood and smoothed her skirt. With a sad smile, she held out her hand. “Come, let’s go surprise the children. And I’ll bandage your—arm.”
They walked hand in hand to the cabin. Ella sat on the bench outside and sent him in to wake the children. Hannah’s squeal of joy caused her to smile. She rested her head on the log wall, and waited.
Samuel ducked through the short doorway with both children clinging to his legs. But his bluish-green eyes immediately narrowed.
“Ella Dessa, take the children inside.”
“What? Why?” She turned and spotted Luke walking toward them, confidence showing in the way he carried his huge shoulders. He had Jim’s gun slung on his back. “That’s Luke,” she murmured. “He’s helpin’ us.”
“Is that Jim’s new gun he’s carrying?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” He rubbed at the blond beard on his chin.
“He’s been watchin’ you. You’d be dead if I screamed for help.”
Luke stopped at the steps. “Must be your husband’s brother.”
“Yes.” She heard Samuel’s intake of breath and knew the impact Luke’s unusual amber eyes could have on a person. “Samuel? I’d like you to meet the man who helped us survive an’ the one who buried your brother. Luke, this is Samuel McKnapp. He’s been searchin’ for us—followin’ ribbons of blue material.”
Luke’s eyes flickered with guilt at the mention of her pieces of cloth. “I’m glad he found you,” he softly replied. “Nice to meet you, Samuel.”
He studied her brother-in-law, but he didn’t react to the sight of a bloody, wrapped stub where Samuel’s right arm ended. He handed the gun up to her. As she cradled it in her arms, she wondered what was going through her brother-in-law’s mind.
“Ella Dessa says she and the children owe you their lives.” Samuel’s voice sounded tight but rang clear.
“God was
their protector. They owe me nothing.” Luke’s gaze switched between the two of them. “Ella, I’m taking the wagon to the river to fill the barrels.”
She nodded. “Be careful.”
“It’s good to meet you, Samuel McKnapp. I am sorry about your brother’s death.” Luke turned on his bare heels and walked away.
The children forgot their uncle, jumped off the sagging porch, and pelted Luke with childish questions about going to the river.
Samuel stared at Luke’s back. “He didn’t ask you—he told you he’s taking the wagon.”
“There’s no need to ask.”
“He’s been beaten—severely.”
“Yes, more than once,” she whispered. “An’ there’s scars on his wrists from shackles.”
The bright sun lit the slave’s appalling scars until he stepped into the shadowed barn. In a few seconds, he reappeared with a ragged length of rope.
“I could never do that to another human being,” Samuel murmured.
She nodded. It sickened her to think of what type of man could do such an act of brutality.
“Ella Dessa, is it safe to let the children follow him?”
She whirled to face him. “Yes. He’s helped us survive these weeks. I needed his help.” She wasn’t sure what thoughts filled Samuel’s mind, but she felt the need to defend Luke. “An’ he’s a believer. He speaks of God.”
“Where does he go for water?” Samuel asked, switching the subject.
“The river.” She beckoned to the children. “There’s no water near this cabin.”
“How foolish is that? Why would anyone build here? Florida is full of water.”
She didn’t answer, but watched the wagon lumber away, following the dim trail to the peaceful river. The thought of stepping into its cooling depths made her long to run after Luke as the children had done and beg to go.
“Relax, Samuel. I envy him.”
“What?”
“He can chance goin’ to the river.” She watched the children climb the rail fence by the barn. They reached over to pet the growing calf. “There’s danger all about. We found out the family who lived here saw a bear kill one of their boys. It must have been—” Her breath caught in her throat. “Now what’s wrong?”
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