“Good. I’m thinking of building a hut in the woods. I could take Aga and the baby with me. We’d be close, in case you and Samuel needed me, but it’d keep her out of sight. My thoughts are, I need to be invisible. I’ll watch and do hunting, but let Samuel be the one seen, in case someone rides up.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry but I can’t chance capture. Neither can Aga. Her owners would take her child, perhaps sell him, whip her back to shreds, and put her directly in the fields.”
Tears filled her eyes. “How long will it take you to put up a shelter?”
“Not long. I’ll use broken limbs to avoid more chopping. Weave them together. We need to keep outside fires to a minimum. No smoke during the day. But the other thing is, we need to set plans for leaving.” He rubbed one hand across his face, producing a raspy noise of dry skin against the beginnings of a beard.
“I agree,” Ella said.
“I don’t know how to work out traveling together.”
“We can do it.” She watched the lantern’s light deepen the shadows around his eyes and his broad cheekbones. “You an’ Aga could both ride in the wagon—climb out at night.”
“Or she could ride, and I stay inside the tree line. Samuel and I got talking to do.” He picked up the lantern. “Wolf’s on his feed sack under the porch. He’s on watch tonight.” He grinned at her.
“Thank you. I’ll sleep better.”
“I know.”
The baby whimpered for a short time. Aga had trouble nursing him, but he soon slept. Ella sat at the table, folding squares of material, and stacking them in two piles.
“Luke … is he your slave?”
“No. He’s … a friend.” Ella smiled. It felt good to call him a friend.
“He’s always been free?” Aga’s whisper held a note of awe.
“No.”
The slave girl watched the flames and hugged her baby. The dim light accented her profile and the twisted strip of material wrapped around her head, creating a beautiful picture. “Then … he’s like me—a runaway?”
“Yes. He lived with the Seminoles ’til he came to help us.”
“An’ yer husband? He had his hand chopped off?”
“Well, no—let me explain. My husband’s name was Jim.” She paused and fought the heavy feeling in her chest. “You see … he died after a rattlesnake bit him. Samuel’s my husband’s brother.”
“But …”
“Yes, we’re married ’cause Jim wanted it that way. He asked Samuel to be a papa to the children an’ husband to me.” She welcomed Aga’s curiosity and longed to talk. “Jim had given Samuel a letter tellin’ him to marry me if somethin’ happened.”
The slave girl’s eyes appeared black as coal in the cabin’s faint light. “I seen two men die of snake bite.”
“It often happens.”
“Why do you pray to God?”
“I pray an’ ask for his help and to thank Him.”
The dark lashes framing the slave’s eyes fluttered. “How you know He helps?”
“You learn to be aware of answers, especially when no one else can help.” She smiled.
Attentive, Aga leaned closer. “Do ya think God protected me?”
“Oh, yes, He did. Or else you wouldn’t be here.”
With a nod of her head, the young mother carried her baby to the bed. “An’ Albery wouldn’t be here.” She laid him in the sagging middle, quickly disrobed, and dropped one of Ella’s nightshifts over her head. As her head popped through the untied opening, she whispered another question. “Did God give me strength to find you?”
“Him an’ nobody else. An’ now we must get some rest while your baby sleeps.” Ella bent to cup the candle’s flickering flame. A quick puff of breath blew it out. With a short shovel, she covered the coals with ashes.
She slipped off her clothes and donned a nightshift. Her fingers fumbled with the bone hairpins securing her hair. Loosened, it cloaked her shoulders and back.
It was a meager substitute for the warmth of a man’s arms.
Brushing aside wistful longings, Ella breathed a prayer of protection for her two children and crawled into the left side of the bed. She drew the thin quilt to her neck. Nights were still cool, but the days grew warm. They slept on the rope bed, the baby between them. His mama could easily nurse him without getting out of bed.
The sagging ropes made the bed uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter as exhaustion claimed Ella’s body and mind.
Chapter 32
Something snatched Ella awake. Only the children’s light snores and sighs came from the dark loft, but Wolf’s menacing growl on the porch urged her to roll from the bed. She got the gun and crept to the barred window. With shaky fingers, she eased the shutter open a couple inches.
The full moon sat on the distant treetops. Its position in the night sky indicated it was past midnight. She leaned against the log wall and waited, but the dog made no other sound.
Must’ve been an opossum or harmless night creature.
Wide awake, she took pleasure in the moon’s bright face. But a movement rustled the grass, and Wolf whined from the porch. A moonlit, wide-shouldered figure came toward the cabin.
She raised the gun.
“Ella?” Luke whispered.
“Yes.”
“I saw the whiteness of a face reflected in the moon’s light. Figured it was you and not Aga.”
She almost giggled at his remark. “What’s wrong?”
“Watched four Seminoles cross the back field. They lingered before heading for the river. They know we’re here.”
Her heart hammered. “Will they come here?”
“Could be a scouting party. Could be trouble. Don’t know,” he muttered.
“What—what do we do?”
“Stay quiet and attentive. I’ll know more come light. I’ll track them. After dawn, keep children close. No noise. Prepare the guns and check the powder. This means I do more scouting at night.” He stepped away from the window as the perfect moon slid behind a cloud, plunging the surroundings into iron-kettle blackness.
Ella crawled into the bed, thinking she couldn’t possibly go back to sleep. Albery whimpered, and the rustle of bedclothes indicated Aga snuggled him close to her breast. Tiny smacking noises broke the silence until there was the satisfied burp.
The tranquil morning light reached the slate-gray shadows wedged into corners of the cabin. Ella stirred the coals, stuffed balls of moss under pieces of wood, and blew on the embers. Tiny orange flames licked at the smoldering kindling, as she swung a pot of water over the flames.
While the children and Aga continued to slumber, she took advantage of the privacy and stripped off the long nightgown. She slipped on a chemise and then a blouse and skirt. Her fingers worked at the buttons on the clean top, its front pieced together by delicate stitches.
“Please, Lord. Help us today. Keep us all safe.”
Living with constant uneasiness too often caused waves of bitterness, and she tried to squelch the emotional upheaval by jerking the hairbrush through her long hair. The pulling of the stiff bristles temporarily numbed fears.
She pushed aside the frayed collar and traced the uneven scars on her neck. She thought back to the sound of another blouse tearing as Jesse ripped it open, but it was the shock registering in the slave catcher’s hardened gaze that she remembered. He had frowned as he viewed her marred flesh, but then he demanded she undo her long hair.
With stiff fingers, she had obeyed. Samuel’s death-white face had shown pain and alarm as he rolled sideways on the bed, fought dizziness, and struggled to his feet.
Remembrance and gratitude washed over Ella. Samuel was unable to stand an’ help me ’cause of his head wound. But I saw the torment in his eyes. An’ he had to think of my children—the danger they were in. Her fingers lingered over the lumpy scars, and warm tears began trickling down her cool cheeks. Samuel never let my scars bother him, even when we were children!
A low growl of warning caused E
lla to button her blouse and turn to the door. She shouldered the gun and inched the door open. Wolf struggled to his feet, favoring his lame hip and leg. But his tail soon swung in a friendly wag.
Perleu limped into view.
The dim light produced deep shadows on his craggy face. With his pack and a leather coat hanging from his bone-thin shoulders, he appeared bent double. He waved his cane, climbed the rickety steps, and collapsed on the bench. A pungent odor emanated from his filthy clothes. Ella didn’t comment on it, just stepped outside and pushed the cabin door shut behind her.
“Hi, Perleu. You’re early.”
“Yeah,” he gasped. “Have coffee?” No large-brimmed hat graced his scraggly head. He shrugged off his bulging backpack and coat. He ran an arthritic hand through his matted hair.
“None made—yet. Sorry.”
Wolf approached Perleu and sniffed his pants leg.
“Yeah, Dog—it stinks. Had a polecat try ta snuff out my life!”
Ella stifled a giggle. “Perleu, you do smell.”
Wolf sneezed and backed away.
“Ahh, I were collectin’ some coontie, an’ I didn’t see him comin’ outta a burrow. I skeered him, an’ he sprayed me when I turned ta run. I cain’t run fast.” He flashed his toothless grin and glanced around. “Where’s the others?”
“Children are still sleepin’.” How do I explain Aga an’ the baby?
“How’s the new husband?” His green eyes twinkled.
“He’s fine. Ah, I think he’s at the barn. Luke might be … huntin’. It’s been a long time since you visited.”
“Yep.”
Perleu studied the barn and the rail fence. His quick eyes spied the big gray swishing his tail and eating grass alongside Samuel’s horse. Luke had chased away the other two horses belonging to the slave hunters. He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips, producing a raspy sound.
“Well, I’ll be—nice horse!”
Ella almost groaned. “Yes.”
A baby’s wailing cry came from inside the cabin.
Perleu’s green eyes widened. His bushy eyebrows raised. “Shucks, that’s an infant, I do believe, not a bobcat.” Puzzled, he stared at her. “Mighty quick. Ya been keepin’ a secret?”
She knew she couldn’t deny a baby’s cry, no more than she could deny a new horse. “We … we’ve a young girl … staying with us. She gave birth unexpected-like.” Oh, Ella, it ain’t quite a lie, but it ain’t a whole truth!
“You don’t say.” Perleu coughed and spit over the side of the porch. A faint yellow tinge seemed to accent the hollows of his cheeks and the whites of his sunken eyes. He placed a hand over his right side and grimaced. “Visitor, eh?” His easy-to-read eyes revealed he didn’t believe her.
“Yes …”
Perleu grimaced and shook his head. “Ma’am … Ella Dessa? I don’t pry. I’m here ta bring news. I ain’t a judge, by no means.” Digging into his stuffed backpack, he muttered under his breath, “Where is it?” His shaking hand pulled out a crinkled piece of hand-lettered ink print. “Read this, I … snitched it from a slave catcher at Tampa. I kin read some, but I listen more oftens. I afear it pertains to someone ya knows.”
She sat on the second bench and flattened the creased paper on her skirted knees. “It’s a runaway post. Unusual gold eyes … six-foot-two an’ dusky-skinned.” She scanned down the wrinkled page. “Floggin’ scars on back forms a cross—” She raised her head and stared at him. Her heart hammered in her ears. “An’ answers to the given name of Luke!”
He nodded. “They had twenty chained slaves awaitin’ shipment on the wharf. Some in iron collars. It ain’t a comely sight, metal spikes. One of ’em died durin’ the night. They left him shackled with the rest, saggin’ sideways.” He bent forward, choked, and coughed.
Ella’s hand crumpled the paper.
“I ’spects ya knew it were bound to be. But ya got a week, slightly more. Ten days? There’s a patrol down south of here. They’re doin’ a sweep up the west side of the Long Peas.”
“Peas?”
“River. Yes—Peace, like you say.” He added, “I think they’re still enforcin’ the settlement rule, but I may be wrong. Within twenty miles, ain’t allowed. A year ago, I seen huts an’ cabins burned out, an’ it weren’t no Injun doin’s.”
Ella felt cold. Thinking of Luke being caught caused her to also fear for Aga and the baby.
Perleu scratched the top of his head. “Hard to believe, but I’m sunburnt up hare. Injuns took my hat an’ my haversack, but they jest laughed at me—wouldn’t kill me, even though I screamed at ’em ta do the job. I chased ’em. Gonna make me die like an old man—not with dignity. I could fight ’em! Fought ’em in my younger days!” His emerald eyes danced for a moment, and he slammed his cane on the bench. “I could still take ’em on!”
Ella jumped to her feet and wadded the notice in her hand. “I must see to the children. I’ll be back.” She knew the sound of his cane would bring Amos and Hannah scurrying from the loft. “They’ll want to see you.” For safekeeping, she stuffed the paper in the bodice of her dress.
She stepped toward the door, but a horse’s whinny made her turn. Samuel had stopped by the fence to pet his horse’s nose.
“Perleu’s back for a visit,” Ella hollered, hoping Aga would hear and stay quiet.
Samuel came up the steps and extended his left hand to the old tramp. “Good to see you. Looks like we’ve got rain coming.” He nodded toward a line of clouds gathering on the horizon.
Perleu gave him a snaggletooth grin. “I’ll get a bath.”
“We could heat some water. Ahh … cure the … smell,” Samuel replied, winking at Ella.
“Naw, hot water dries the skin.” Perleu watched the horses milling around inside the rail fencing. His thin face was a brief study in curiosity before he caught himself. He cleared his throat. “That’s a nice mount—that gray. Mind if I ask where ya got him?”
Samuel removed his old hat. “Would you believe the big gray came trotting across the opening, straight to the cabin, and Ella ran out and stopped it? The black, of course, is mine …”
“Naw, wouldn’t believe it.” Perleu stared at Samuel.
“I did stop the horse,” Ella said. “But its owner was found dead.”
“Hmm.” Perleu waved a hand. “Don’t tell me no more!”
Samuel ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Ella Dessa? Could I get you to trim my hair later?”
“Yes, I’ll take care of it. Excuse me.” She slipped into the cabin and shut the door. Aga sat on the slumped bed. The baby was cuddled in her arms, nursing under a thin quilt drawn around her narrow shoulders.
“Hannah, Amos? Come on down an’ get dressed. Perleu’s outside.”
Amos backed down the ladder and scurried to the chamber pot. “Cain’t wait,” he squeaked as Hannah rolled her eyes.
Ella handed her daughter her clothes, but her eyes made contact with Aga’s. She pressed her finger to her lips and motioned toward the door. Aga nodded and snuggled the baby to her full chest.
“Children, listen to me,” Ella said. “Please don’t talk ’bout Aga an’ the baby. It must be a secret. Understand?”
Hannah nodded. “Mama, can I go see Perleu?”
“Not ’til you’re dressed. That goes for you too, Amos McKnapp!”
Both children scurried to pull on clothes. They burst out on the porch, and each gave the old man a huge grin of welcome. Perleu enthusiastically held out his arms for a hug.
“You smell.” Amos pinched his nose.
“Skunk took aim at me, son.” Perleu laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair.
“You cain’t run fast?” Hannah stayed away from Perleu and waved her hand in the air. “Phew!”
“Stop,” Ella said. “Be nice.”
Amos ran and opened the cabin door. “I got somethin’ to show.” He came back with a tiny carved horse. “Uncle Samuel made this.” From inside the log cabin came the baby’s loud burp!
>
Ella sighed and shook her head.
“Well, I’ll be—” Perleu’s attention switched from the carved horse to the sight of the slender slave girl sitting on the low bed inside the dimly lit cabin. She wore one of Ella’s dresses and a tan rag wrapped around her head. The baby’s dark head showed above a small, multicolored quilt.
“You do have a guest. Two, I might add.”
“Yes,” Ella admitted.
Samuel mumbled something and took off for the barn.
Aga clutched the infant to her chest, her brown eyes wide with fear.
“Aga, it’s all right.” Ella beckoned to her. “Come. I’d like you to meet Perleu. He’s a friend of ours.” She turned toward the old man. “Perleu, this is … Aga, an’ the baby is called Albery.”
The slave girl walked out on the porch to give Samuel a timid smile. She shifted the baby in her arms.
Hannah ran to stroke Albery’s curly head.
“Nice ta meet ya.” Perleu cleared his throat and scratched at his long thin beard. “Miss Ella Dessa, ya may have more problems than we spoke of.”
“I know, Perleu.” She gave him a weak smile. “She escaped some slave hunters.”
He abruptly stood. “I’ve gotta leave. Life’s callin’.”
Ella frowned. “Just sit a spell. You don’t hav’ta leave because—”
“No. Must go.” He wobbled down the steps and waved an arthritic hand to the uneasy, silent group. “Got my own creed of silence—just so you know.”
They watched him walk away, the sun hitting his uncovered head.
“He doesn’t have a hat,” Ella muttered. “I wonder what his creed of silence is?” Was he going to report Aga?
Ella, don’t fret, don’t you do it! God’s got his hand in this. We’re doin’ the right thing by protectin’ Aga.
Samuel reappeared, leading his black horse. “He left? He comes and goes like a green-backed fly. Seen Luke this morning?”
“No. I think he’s still gone. The moon was bright last night, an’ he spotted Sem’noles slippin’ close. I ’magine he’s tracking them. Wolf woke me. Luke came to the window an’ told me. He said to check all the guns.”
With This Peace Page 25
