With This Peace

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “My brother-in-law an’ I plan to travel north as soon as possible. We could hide her in the wagon.”

  “Samuel is now your husband.”

  “This isn’t a real marriage. It’s somethin’ Jim requested—dreamed up—for his children’s safety.”

  “It can be. What did you feel for Samuel in the past? Jim had to know Samuel loved you.”

  She thought back to the mountains and the boy who had been her constant companion.

  “Yes, Samuel loved me back then. But when he lost his hand, he grew bitter. He chose to push me away—make me dislike him. I cared for him but loved Jim. I think he always knew that.”

  “There could be more, if you’d let it. But …”

  “But what?”

  Luke scrubbed at his face as if wiping away a spider web or an invisible cloud. “You must know.” His words were soft.

  “No—”

  “I’m a man. The color of my skin’s darker, because of my mother, but I’ve the same feelings as a man with skin as light as yours. There’s no words I can rightfully say to you. But Ella—”

  “No.” With a sharp intake of breath, she stood. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her skirt. “I … I need to go back to Aga. She’ll have the baby tonight.”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  “Mama!” Hannah ran toward them, pulling Amos with her. “Aga’s callin’. I went to her. She wants you!”

  Ella lifted her skirt hem and ran. As she neared the wagon, she could hear the slave girl’s groans.

  “Aga?”

  The white shift had twisted around the slave’s torso. Her bruised face was stiffened with pain, and her hands pressed against her extended waistline. Aga’s water had broken. She was in hard labor.

  Chapter 30

  “Mama, why’s she askin’ for a baby?”

  Ella cupped Hannah’s face in both her hands. “Because she wants one. Go send Luke to me. An’ then stay at the cabin with Amos.”

  Moments later, Aga’s good eye opened wide as Luke knelt beside her. “Yer the one who lifted me an’ carried me. I felt it were a—dream.” A contraction stopped her words.

  “Ever deliver a baby?” Luke whispered to Ella.

  She felt herself tense. “Two. A brother. He was too little an’ died. An’ a friend’s baby. A granny woman helped with Hannah an’ Amos.”

  “Then you can handle this.”

  The slave girl grabbed Luke’s muscular forearm. “I know you hav’a kind heart. It weren’t none of yer fault. Bella won’t haunt ya none. She knows the truth.”

  An hour later, Aga started pushing. “Awww—awww!” Her face contorted as she struggled with the contractions coming in waves.

  “Roll to your right side. Try it.”

  The girl rolled and clutched her bulging stomach. “Cain’t bear no more!”

  “I found my pains came faster in that position. I birthed my girl like that.” Ella wiped the girl’s brow with a damp cloth. “Grasp your knees and pull.”

  Aga panted through the contraction and shut her eyes. “I want a boy.”

  “The Lord knows best.” Ella’s hands shook as she cut up one of her old skirts to make a wrap for the expected infant. She ripped a couple strips off the material’s edge for tying the umbilical cord.

  “It’s comin’!” The slave girl gasped, surprise and pain contorting her battered face. She pulled her left knee to her chest. She grimaced and instinctively pushed. “Ahh!”

  Ella found herself groaning with the prolonged push. Oh, dear Lord, help her! She’s gone through so much! She recalled her own mama pushing and pushing—only to deliver an infant doomed to die within minutes.

  The next contraction rolled in on top of the previous one, and Aga pushed through it.

  “Good, Aga, good!”

  “I cain’t!”

  “You’re doin’ it. Listen to your body. Push!” Ella shut her eyes, blocking the sight of Aga’s brown legs shaking with the strain of the next contraction. Her lips kept whispering prayers above the gasps and moans of exertion.

  Despite the cold night, drops of sweat lined Aga’s forehead.

  “Here he comes, Aga! Push.”

  The girl groaned with the powerful contraction gripping her body, and the baby slipped from her body. Ella’s shaking fingers worked to move the looped cord out of the way, and she used one finger to clear the baby’s mouth.

  “Come on, cry!”

  The infant’s wailing protest filled the interior of the shadowed wagon, and his slave mother sobbed. Ella placed the baby boy on Aga’s chest and whispered, “It’s all done.” She used strips of cloth to tie the cord. “He’s beautiful.”

  “What do we have?” Luke said.

  Ella crawled to the end of the wagon and parted the gathers. “A little boy. Both he an’ mama are fine!”

  Luke’s deep chuckle turned into a full rippling laugh. “His lungs are healthy. Heard him clear up on the porch.”

  She grinned. “Let me get her settled an’ then you can see him.”

  The baby had thick black hair and long narrow feet. But his body seemed short and skinny, while his legs kicked with plenty of energy. Ella tucked a soft cloth around him and bent to kiss his wrinkled, scowling brow. She then bundled one of Amos’s baby quilts around him.

  “Got to keep him warm. He’s lively. Hannah an’ Amos will love him.”

  A short time later, when Luke climbed into the wagon and knelt by Aga, Ella felt as if the world had righted itself and the essence of death fled. And the private conversation with Luke, while sitting in the woods, needed to be forgotten.

  Luke held the infant in his large outstretched palms. “Aga, look at your little man!” With gentleness, he tucked the baby in the bend of her elbow. “He’s got wide shoulders, for sure.”

  Aga’s bruised lips parted in a satisfied smile. Her long fingers stroked the baby’s delicate features. “I see—Vesser in ’im.”

  Ella smiled. She knew what the girl hoped. “Aga, I see no likeness to Wiley or Jesse. Does that make it better?”

  “It were worth the pain. Vesser—Vassar, he’s was a good man.” Her full lips lingered on top of the baby’s damp head. “He were kind to me … all of us.”

  “Aga, I’ll be right back.” Ella walked to the cabin, her shawl tightened about her shoulders. A cool breeze blew across the cleared field and made her shiver. But there was warmth in her heart.

  Samuel stood up from the table, a troubled expression on his handsome face, and the children ran toward her. She wiped her hands on a scrap of wet cloth and watched their faces when she told them the news.

  “She’s got the baby. It’s a boy.”

  Hannah clapped her hands. “I heard it! A baby, jest like Milly’s! We heard it cryin’.”

  Amos patted his mama’s arm and asked. “He can play with Wolf?”

  “Not yet. A baby cain’t walk.”

  Hannah did a quick twirl in the middle of the room. “Amos, aren’tcha happy?” she asked, wobbling to a standstill. “We have a baby.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. I neber had one.”

  Ella laughed. “We’ll go see the new baby after I talk to Uncle Samuel.” Her pent-up emotions twisted into raw knots—a surprise, considering how she felt fifteen minutes before.

  Hannah scurried to a peg on the wall and reached for their coats. “Come, Amos, let’s play on the porch.”

  Samuel stepped close. “Ella Dessa, are you all right?” The dark scab on the side of his head spoke of healing. His gentle, strong arms pulled her close.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her forehead resting easy on his chest. “I know the horrors you saw by the river. But God brought life back into view with this baby.”

  “Is the baby … is it healthy?”

  “Yes.” Ella felt his lips touch the top of her head. “He’s a tiny boy. But the other slaves …” She fought tears, laid her head on his shoulder, and twisted her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m wishin’
…”

  “Shh!” His arms rocked her back and forth. “My dear, we can’t make that horror by the river our own personal guilt. All three of us agree about what we would’ve done—had we known of their existence. God sent the girl to us. No, I can’t pretend to understand why we weren’t allowed to rescue the others.”

  She sighed and relaxed into the warmth and comfort of his presence. “Sometimes, I feel I cain’t go on.”

  “You can—you will. And I’m here. I want to be the rock you lean on,” he murmured close to her ear.

  “I need a rock,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  Hannah ran back in. “Mama, kin we go see the baby?” She patted Ella’s arm, blue eyes pleading. “I want ta see him.”

  “Me, too!” Amos stuck his head around the door frame.

  Ella stepped away from Samuel’s strong arms and wiped tears from her cheeks. “Want to come?” She pulled her shawl up around her shoulders.

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Let me start the evening meal. You’ll need to stay with Aga tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile and motioned the children toward the steps.

  They giggled, excited to see a new baby.

  Luke came from the barn. “Can you sleep here tonight?”

  “I plan to. Samuel will stay with the children.”

  “I’m uneasy. I‘ll stand guard out here.”

  Amos and Hannah tugged at her hands. “Mama?”

  “Shh. Luke, should we move Aga an’ the baby to the cabin?”

  He nodded. “In the morning. Oh, one more thing. Aga believes she’s seventeen.”

  “I thought her to be younger. She’s so tiny.”

  Luke smiled at the eager children. “Here, let me lift you into the wagon.” His big hands clasped Amos’s waist. He set him in the wagon, before reaching for Hannah. And without a word, he swept Ella up in his arms and lifted her to join the children.

  She caught her breath in surprise and didn’t thank him. She knelt beside Aga as the children crowded close. “What will you name him?”

  The girl gazed at her newborn. “I had me a brother named Albery. He were took by fever, ’cause he was made ta work in winter rain. I think I’ll name ’im Albery.”

  “Hannah an’ Amos wanted to see him.”

  “They is welcome.” Aga smiled at the children, while the back of her fingers caressed her son’s cheek. “Does he seem fit?” she asked.

  “He does, even though he’s kinda small. But don’t worry—he’ll grow fast.”

  Hannah and Amos crowded in on hands and knees.

  “He’s got little fingers,” Hannah whispered. “Kin I touch ’im? Feel his hair?”

  Ella sat cross-legged on the wagon’s floor. “Be gentle.”

  Hannah carefully lifted the baby’s hand in hers, as if the fingers might break. When Amos tried to crawl close to Aga, Ella settled him in her own lap.

  “No, jest look. Right now, he’s tiny. Someday, he’ll be big like you—a wiggle-worm!” She hugged Amos’s squirming body and kissed his neck. “You should’ve wore a coat.”

  Aga watched them. Tears filled her dark brown eyes. “I want my son to be free,” she murmured. “I want to keep him, raise him as my own.

  With a nod, Ella touched the young mother’s shoulder. “With God’s help, we’ll do our best to see it happens. We’ve got to put plans together in case someone finds us here.”

  Aga’s fingers gripped her hand. “Does God know ’bout me, an’ does he care Albery lives?”

  “Yes, He does.”

  Chapter 31

  Thurday, May 18, 1848

  Samuel stood on the porch. Smoke swirled from the chimney, and he caught the scent of cooked meat. Luke had snared two nice-sized rabbits, and Ella was cooking them over a fire inside the cabin. The days were warm, and the outside cooking pit should’ve been used. The scent of food carried, no matter where a person cooked it.

  He watched the pewter-gray smoke drift sideways. The danger of discovery had grown. But he didn’t know how to resolve the issue haunting them. Detection, either by soldiers, Indians, or slave hunters, was possible.

  He tapped on the door, opened it, and slipped into the crowded, stuffy room, which smelled of frying meat and wet diapers. Ella Dessa bent over the fire, turning hunks of rabbit. Although it was only midmorning, he recognized weariness in her posture.

  Without Luke, we’d all be dead. And she didn’t marry me because she wanted to. I tricked her ….

  “Why so gloomy?” Ella Dessa straightened, laid aside her iron fork, and gave him an inquiring look—accompanied by pretty, raised eyebrows. “Samuel? You cain’t hide things from me. Since I was little, I’ve watched your feelin’s show in your blue-tinted green eyes!” She clasped her hands in front of her waist. Her stance told him she braced for bad news.

  He chuckled. “Relax, Ella Dessa. Moon is full tonight, and I get jittery, knowing it helps light trails through the woods.”

  “Oh.” Her hands unclasped. “Then I understand. Please, sit an’ eat.” She turned back to the flames and flipped one of the rabbit thighs. The fire’s light caught in her hair, causing it to gleam like sunstruck gold traces in a mountain stream. “It’s early for the midday meal, but Luke surprised us with fresh meat. He asked that I save him a piece.”

  “I saw him skinning the rabbits.” Samuel tossed his hat on the bed.

  Aga sat to the right of the fireplace, the baby on her narrow lap, swaddled in a thin blanket. Her dark eyes stayed downcast, and she didn’t join the conversation.

  Ella Dessa indicated he should sit at the table. She handed him a plate with meat and a pile of golden-brown flat cakes. “Help yourself. When you’re done, take a piece of rabbit an’ flat cakes to Luke.” She glanced at the loft. “Hannah? Amos? Come to the table. Uncle Samuel will say the blessin’. Aga? Are you stayin’ over there?”

  The girl nodded. “I’ll eats here.”

  Amos made it to the table first and scooted across the rugged bench. His tiny hand patted Samuel’s right arm. “Wolf likes my new stick.” With his other hand, he held up a short branch.

  “Does he fetch it?” He ruffled the child’s curls.

  “Yep!”

  “Bow your head,” Samuel whispered as Hannah crowded onto the bench. Ella Dessa sat across from him on the empty bench.

  “Heavenly Father, thank you for your blessings and this meat. Keep us safe, and show us the path we should take. Amen.”

  He raised his head to catch Ella Dessa studying him. Her full lips curved in a gentle smile. He wondered what thoughts tugged at her mind. He knew she still missed Jim. It showed with the sadness lingering in her beautiful, blue eyes.

  “I wish Wolf was in here.” Hannah shoved a piece of meat in her mouth. “He likes rabbit.”

  Samuel grinned. “He doesn’t belong in this crowded room. His wounds have healed, and he is helping Luke and I do the night watch.” Wolf’s presence near the cabin gave the assurance no one could approach without being seen.

  The two men continued to take turns watching during the day. At night, one slept in the barn and the other took up guard near the wagon, which had been pulled closer to the cabin—a new practice, in case danger slipped close.

  “Wolf chases me,” Amos said, a big grin on his face.

  “You need to teach him to catch rabbits.” Samuel winked at the boy and, without looking, reached for the last flat cake. Instead of the flat cake, his fingers closed on Ella Dessa’s warm hand.

  She snatched her hand back. “You may have it. I have had enough.”

  “I didn’t mean to grab your hand, just the flat cake,” Samuel replied, a familiar wash of feelings sweeping over him.

  The remembrance of her hand cuddled in his as they walked a dirt path home from school years ago caused his chest to tighten. He took the warm flat cake, broke it in half, and extended a piece to her.

  “Ella Dessa, shall we share?”

  She smiled.
“Please, eat it. I just thought it might be wasted.”

  “Thank you.” He took a bite. “I best hurry. I’ll take Luke his. He watched through the night, so he needs to sleep a few hours. Tonight, I’ll eat outside with Luke.” He glanced at Aga huddled on the chair by the fire. “Give you women some space.”

  Toward evening, Ella started tearing pieces of muslin into rectangles. “This is to towel the baby. I’ve also got some things of Amos’s you can have.” She lifted her head to see the slave girl’s twinkling eyes. “Why the look?”

  “I wonder ’bout you an’ your husband.” She shrugged, jostling the sleepy baby in her arms. “He calls you Ella Dessa. That’s pretty.”

  “He’s not—Samuel’s always called me by my full name. So did my Mama.” She laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Hannah, don’t crowd the baby. He’s sleepin’.”

  Hannah’s bottom lip protruded. “I want to hold ’im.”

  “You can hold him on your lap when he’s grown some. A baby isn’t like your rag doll or cornhusk dolls. His neck’s wobbly. He needs support all the time or he might cry.”

  Hannah turned her cloth doll around, studying its blank face. “My baby doesn’t cry.”

  “That’s good.” Ella laughed, and Aga smiled.

  There was a knock at the door. Luke stuck his head in and beckoned to Ella.

  “What is it?” She snatched a shawl and slipped outside.

  Darkness filled the surroundings, but a full moon rose behind the silhouettes of pines and oaks. A cool breeze drifted across the porch. The extra lantern, with a dirty globe, glowed from the bottom step. His rock-hard expression, lit by its yellowed light, was alarming.

  He placed a finger against his lips and murmured, “At dusk, Samuel and I saw smoke rising near the river. He took a ride down there, slipped through the brush, and counted eight Seminoles camping on the east side of the river. I don’t think they’ll cross this way, but we must think of a safer plan now Aga and the baby have joined us. She has to make sure the baby doesn’t do needless crying. We can’t let soldiers—or others—surprise us.”

  Ella felt her stomach muscles tense. She hugged her waist. “Aga’s fixin’ a way to carry the baby on her chest or back. I gave her a bolt of cloth. That’ll lull him most of the time.”