With This Peace

by Karen Campbell Prough

  Luke sighed. “We make up a story—you both stick to it. Got to keep the children mum, and I’ll have to hide. Besides, they wouldn’t accept my word on it—white men were killed.”

  “Maybe no one will ever come asking,” Samuel muttered. Weakness showed in his unsteady gait down the porch steps, but he seemed better.

  Ella nodded. “That’d be a blessin’.” She wanted to help Samuel, but knew he’d rather prove he could do it.

  Luke cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to indicate what happened. Jesse left one man to the vultures, one got ate by wild hogs, and one is buried in an unmarked grave.” He shrugged. “I’ll never reveal the site.” His dark eyes searched the edge of the woods.

  “What do we do with three extra horses?” Samuel squinted against the rising sun.

  Ella knew why he brought up horses. Anyone coming upon the cabin would question four splendid mounts. It wasn’t normal, and the animals couldn’t be passed off as work horses.

  “I’d like the big gray,” Luke said, his tone almost wistful. “Always wanted a horse. Of course, if I go south to the swamp … I can hide better without a horse. But I suggest we turn the other two loose. Hide the saddles or bury them.”

  Samuel nodded. “I agree.”

  Luke stared at the clear blue sky. Vultures circled, catching the currents. There had been more than usual in the sky above the river.

  “Why so many?” Ella asked.

  Chapter 29

  Luke squinted. “Those birds have found something big.”

  The children appeared in the doorway, their ragged coats buttoned. “Can we go see Wolf?” Hannah asked.

  “For a few moments,” Ella replied.

  Giggling, the two ran to the barn and went inside.

  Samuel chuckled. “I think I’ll walk that way. I bet Wolf’ll be happy to see them.”

  “Mama!” Hannah ran toward them. “There’s a brown woman—in the bushes!” Amos followed, his shorter legs not keeping up.

  “Where?” Ella felt her heart jerk. “Brown woman?”

  “Yes. Behind the barn. Near the water hole. I seen her through the gaps in the logs.”

  “She gots ropes on her,” Amos said.

  “She—she’s Luke’s color.” Hannah pointed at Luke. “Like him. I saw her. I saw blood.”

  “Oh, no!” Ella lifted her skirt hem and went down the steps, but Luke’s big hand caught her shoulder.

  “No! Let me do this. It might be trouble. Samuel, if you feel up to it, get a gun and ammo. Ella, take the children inside. Bar the door.”

  She pushed the children into the cabin. “Hannah, was there only one woman?”

  “Yes, Mama. One.” The girl nodded, braids bouncing. “She’s got blood on her face. She’s layin’ in tall grass! I saw rope ’round her feet.”

  “Oh, Lord, have mercy!” Ella felt sick to her stomach. Where’d she come from? They didn’t need more trouble!

  Samuel came in the cabin and reached for the weapon. His movements were careful, to compensate for feeling off balance, but he went to join Luke.

  But before she could shut the cabin door, she heard Luke yell to Samuel. “Come help me. Get the rear boards off the wagon.”

  She ran to the porch and down the steps. Luke carried a limp body. With long, hurried strides, he angled for the wagon in front of the barn.

  “Why—she’s a child! An’ she’s …” Ella left her last words unsaid. “Hannah, go back inside with Amos. Don’t come out.”

  After lowering the unconscious form to the wagon floor, Luke stepped out of the way to let Ella climb in. She knelt beside the mahogany-skinned girl and passed her hands over her body. “Ohh, so sad! She’s been beaten and she’s … with child.”

  “Her feet aren’t tied,” Luke hissed through clenched teeth. He pressed one hand to his sore ribs. “But there’s rope around each ankle—probably tied some time before this. Can we fix a bed? So we don’t move her ag’in?”

  “Where’d you find her?” Samuel asked. “And who would do that to her?”

  “A devil,” Ella whispered.

  Luke nodded. “A slave trader. I’ll get the blankets I use as a mat in the barn. We’ll add a layer of dried grass for padding. She needs a cover. She’s cold to the touch.”

  Ella turned to Samuel. “Can you find a quilt? An’ I’ll need warm water, plus look in my stack of clothes for a nightgown. Please, don’t let the children follow you here.”

  She examined the thin girl. A dirty rag—knotted at the back of her head—covered her cropped, kinky hair. Despite the cool weather, she wore only a billowy, sleeveless brown shift, which didn’t disguise her protruding stomach.

  “You poor, mistreated child,” Ella whispered, as she sliced the ropes from the girl’s raw ankles.

  Bloody scratches and insect bites marred her narrow face, exposed arms, and skinny legs. There were no shoes on her thick-soled feet. A massive bruise, turning yellow-brown, covered her left eye and cheek. The shiny purple eyelid was swollen shut.

  Luke lifted a bucket into the wagon and handed Ella a quilt and a rolled bundle. “Here’s what Samuel found. He’ll stay with the children. I will be close by.”

  “Thank you.”

  She removed the slave girl’s clothes. Her whole body showed bruises and cruel signs of abuse. Gently, Ella washed and dressed the pregnant girl in one of her own shifts. She covered her with the quilt and called to Luke.

  “She hasn’t awakened. She’s been treated badly, an’ I think she’ll soon have the baby. I fear for her life.”

  Luke ran his flat-tipped fingers over the girl’s face, probing the appalling bruise and bones around the eye. “Someone hit her. There may be damage to her eye.” His voice turned icy.

  “I’ll remain here with her.”

  “I must watch the woods. Whoever did this to her will be hunting her.” He hesitated and a speculative glint came into his amber eyes. “But then … maybe not. I’ve a feeling—”

  “Wiley?” Ella gasped. “You think Jesse an’ him were searchin’ for her? They never said if it were a man or woman. They took you, ’cause … you were here?”

  “Then she’s been hiding for three days?” Luke tipped his head to the side and rubbed his smooth jaw. “Could be her they sought.”

  As he climbed out of the wagon, Ella heard the girl moan.

  “Honey, you’re safe here.”

  The girl’s right eye blinked, but the left one remained closed. Alarm caused a spasm to distort her battered face, and she defensively raised thin arms and hands, as if to ward off blows. Then, the sight in her one eye focused on Ella. She mouthed a word, which came out as a hoarse groan.

  “Wh … ere?”

  “Where are you?” Ella patted the girl’s callused hand. “You’re safe. What’s your name?”

  “Aga.” Her left hand explored and fingered the clean shift and warm quilt covering her body.

  “Aga? How did you come to be in the barn?”

  Haltingly, she whispered, “I runs—away.” Tears slid down her face. Her story slowly unfolded.

  The girl had escaped from a plantation in northern Virginia. A group of ten men and eleven women ran. Three of the older women were captured right away. The rest made it to Florida, but some of the men didn’t want to join the Seminoles. So they split up, seven men going a different direction.

  “Must’ve been unbearable.”

  “Goin’ without food were the worst, ’fore we was took,” Aga whispered, chin quivering.

  Their freedom didn’t last through the first winter months of their escape. Three white men captured Aga and two other women, while they squatted in a small river washing clothes, somewhere south of St. Augustine. The slave catchers soon captured the four male slaves—by using the women as decoys—and continued a route south. It was then the horrific treatment began.

  They were with the slave hunters for ten months, unhurriedly herded southwest to the village, Tampa. They made side detours to avoid contact wit
h others. More slaves suffered capture and some of the sick were traded for healthier ones. At Tampa, all but the original seven were dropped off at the shipyard and payment collected. Then the slave hunters headed back through Florida toward Virginia. The ransom for the remaining seven was too high to chance putting them on a boat going north.

  The white men beat, demoralized, and raped the females. When one of the male slaves got bit on the thigh by a small alligator, they all remained stationary for three weeks until he could travel. By then, Aga suspected she was pregnant. It didn’t matter to the captors. A female slave ready to produce offspring—field help—went up in value if she was strong enough to go back to the fields after birthing the baby.

  The slave girl’s callused hands massaged her distended belly. Her undamaged eye filled with tears as she softly recounted the past ten months.

  “When do you think your time is?”

  Aga’s full lips trembled. “I don’t—hours? Bella done told me I ’peared ready. I—thinks Bella’s carrin’, too. But, she ain’t strong like me. Bella ain’t kept her food.”

  “She was throwin’ up all the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d you get free?”

  “I left—after he beat me.” Aga touched her eyelid. “He thought I passed out.” She patted her rounded belly. “This slowed me, so I ran an’ hid. I figgerd I were gonna die. I ate plants an’ bugs. One of the men talked of forcin’ out my baby, but Vesser said the baby would be an extra reward. I knowed they’d track me. I turned back two times an’ hid in a swamp.”

  Ella’s mind whirled. Vesser? “Did it sound more like Vassar? Who were the other men—do you recollect names?”

  “One named Wi—ley, an’ Jesse were de other. Wiley hit me. Jesse kilt my baby’s sire. It were Vesser’s baby.” A moan escaped Aga’s twisted lips. “A pain …” Her hands stretched like talons and clutched her belly. A sob broke from her throat.

  “Relax. Breathe.” Ella held her as if she was Amos or Hannah. “Shh—shh, no one’s gonna hurt you. You can give birth in this wagon. Wiley an’ Jesse are dead—both of ’em. They’re not killin’ an’ beatin’ nobody no more. I promise! You’re safe.” The inhumane ordeal Aga had endured caused Ella to vehemently wish Wiley and Jesse had suffered more before their deaths.

  Aga’s hands grappled at Ella’s shoulders, long fingernails digging in. “Dead? Ya say dead?”

  “Yes, nigh on three days ago. They cain’t come for you.”

  The girl clawed the floorboards of the wagon and fought to get up, her thin face grimaced with a statement of unseen horror. “What ’bout dem others? They’s always tied ta trees at night! Vesser loosened me, but they’s tied! Bella’s tied.”

  “Where?”

  “The river! Bella ain’t well! What if they ain’t got loose?”

  Ella drew a breath of understanding and shook off the slave’s clinging hands. “Aga, I’ll be back.”

  She swung down out of the wagon and ran for the cabin’s porch. “Luke! Samuel!”

  Luke sat repairing a hoe, but dropped it and bounded to his feet. “What?”

  Samuel stepped from the cabin, an iron pan in his hand.

  “Her name’s Aga. She’s started labor! She’s a captured slave bein’ taken north with Wiley, Jesse, an’ that other man … the one you found dead in the woods! She says the rest of the slaves … as many as six … were left tied to trees by the river!”

  The impact of her words changed Luke’s facial expression. A strangled, constricted noise burst from his throat, and he was gone, sprinting for the gray horse corralled inside the rail fence.

  “Going with him!” Samuel banged the frying pan down on the porch and untied his own horse. “Keep your gun nearby.”

  Ella knew what Luke would find. She pressed a hand to her lips, sobbing a prayer for him. Three days was too long to be tied to a tree in Florida’s wilderness. There was a reason for the circling vultures. She saw Luke’s muscular arms lift a saddle to the gray’s back. He cinched it and stepped into the stirrup with his bare foot.

  Two hours slipped by. Ella fed the children a midday meal and put them down for a nap. She hurried back to sit with Aga. She was talking her through another mild contraction when she heard the horses coming.

  She knelt at the rear of the wagon.

  Luke jumped from his horse and staggered to the wagon. With eyes full of agony and his face twisted with an uncommon emotion, he stared up at her.

  “Oh—Ella,” he groaned.

  He stood with his forearms resting on the end of the wagon. He laced and unlaced his wide-fingered hands. His eyes were wild with torment.

  “Luke—” She reached for his shoulder and squeezed.

  “I found them,” he whispered. “In a camp near the river, close where I saw the dead man we think was Vassar. All … all were tied to trees, gagged … dead.”

  “Oh. No!”

  Aga screamed and rolled sideways on the blankets, covering her face with trembling hands. Luke buried his head in his bent elbow. Ella heard spasms of sobs break from his lips. Torn between Luke and Aga, she reached for his hands.

  “Luke, I’m sorry—”

  He snatched his hands away. “Don’t touch me!” Compared to Aga’s animal-like wails, his whispered words sounded mumbled. “Wild—wild beast got to ’em. Maybe they weren’t … weren’t yet dead!” His broad shoulders convulsed with unspent emotion. “Samuel went crazy using his whip on the vultures.”

  “Shh!” A wave of nausea swept over her, and she crawled back to the distraught girl. “Aga, Aga!”

  Luke disappeared.

  Samuel rode past on the black mare, his face ghastly white. He didn’t stop at the wagon to talk to her about the horrific sight. The stained whip hung from the saddle.

  Ella pulled Aga into her arms. She rocked the slave girl until the wails of anguish died away to jerking sobs. There were no words to say. Aga had survived months of unspeakable torture and hardship. But the knowledge of what happened to the other slaves might kill her.

  She dampened a cloth, washed Aga’s face, and felt relieved when the girl relaxed in a stupor. The contractions seemed to have ceased, and Aga’s swollen eyelids stayed shut.

  After closing the wagon’s opening, Ella ran to the cabin. As she hugged her children close, she thanked them for being good.

  “Hannah, where’s your Uncle Samuel?”

  “Ridin’. He wants to be alone.” Dirty streaks on her cheeks indicated she had been crying. “Why is Aga screamin’?”

  Ella stroked the child’s messy braids. “She had some sad news. I’m sorry you heard her. I’ll try to make her feel better.”

  Amos didn’t want to talk. He tucked his face tight to her left breast. He had missed his afternoon nap, and his chubby hands played with the buttons on her blouse, a habit from nursing.

  “I love you both,” Ella whispered. “But tonight I will sleep near Aga. Let me go find Luke an’ talk to him. Don’t leave the porch.”

  She spotted him sitting on a huge log under the oaks. Ella hurried toward him, worried about leaving Aga too long. She didn’t know what to say to him.

  His unusual eyes shifted in her direction but shied away. Instead, he stared at a pair of cabbage palms. Their branches littered the sun-splotched ground with sharp-lined shadows. His hands tightened over the tops of his bent knees. His thick wrists still had scabs from the rope burns.

  The outline of his posture spoke of a burden almost too much to comprehend or carry.

  “Ella Dessa … please. I must be alone.” There was no emotion in his voice.

  “You’re my friend.” She sat beside him and fiddled with the folds in her skirt. “Sometimes, it helps to talk … ”

  “Won’t help this.”

  “Luke, it’s not your fault. You had no way of knowin’ they were there if they couldn’t yell out. None of us knew! How might you search for people you didn’t know existed?”

  “I didn’t bury the dead man—the o
ne named Vassar.” He stared intently at the sandy ground between his feet. “I had no shovel—no way to do it—when I found him. I covered his body in limbs and branches. Wild animals found him. The scent drew them in … caused … oh, Lord!” His broad shoulders shook. He squeezed his fists tighter and leaned toward the ground, as if to vomit. A stifled moan escaped his lips.

  Ella touched his shaking arm. “Don’t speak of it. I know … what you found.” She made no attempt to wipe away her tears. “This girl’s safe. Aga’s safe. We must protect her an’ the baby.”

  Luke’s amazing amber eyes lifted to stare at her. Tentatively, his long fingers came to rest on her smaller hand.

  “Ella, I found papers in Vassar’s saddle bag—reward papers. That’s when I should’ve known they captured more than one slave. Aga’s name is probably on one. I have them hidden in the barn. Perhaps they have families. There might be a way of sending word to them by way of a secret runner…”

  “It’d endanger you.” She gazed at his hand, realizing its comfort. “I could do it. I might git a chance to send word if we head back north. Let me have them.”

  He nodded and gritted his teeth. “Couldn’t bury the remains. Had no shovel. Vultures had—” He jerked his hand away and closed it in a fist.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “Don’t say it.”

  “I’ll go back after a few more days and bury the bones. Ella, I need to move on—take Aga south to the Big Swamp.”

  After a pause, she murmured, “You’re a good man to think of her. You should do that.”

  “We’re not safe here. But I can’t leave you and the children! Samuel has only one hand. That makes it more dangerous.”

  “He’s wicked with the whip and can shoot with his left hand. Luke, it’s not your duty to stay. Duncan will be searchin’ for us come spring. We’ll survive.” She tried to sound confident.

  “I’m concerned you won’t survive. Your husband didn’t. I want to be here to help, but Aga’s baby will be another child to care for. And with the skin color … you can’t say it’s yours.”