Love's Tender Fury

by Jennifer Wilde

“Feel better?” I asked.

  He nodded, climbing to his feet. “Delicious breakfast, Marietta. I enjoyed it. I think I’ll go on into the study and do some figuring until Randolph gets here. He should be arriving soon now.”

  He strolled out of the room, and my heart sank. What if he discovered the missing money? What if he checked to see how much he had left and discovered several bills had been taken? It was an unreasonable fear, I knew, for there was no reason why he should open the cigar box this morning, yet I couldn’t shake my apprehension. I cleared the table and washed all the dishes, and then I swept the floor and began to polish the silverware, determined to keep busy, knowing that was the only way I could endure the suspense.

  I heard the wagon pulling around the side of the house sometime later. Derek left the study, went out the front door, and circled around the verandah to greet Randolph as he alighted from the wagon. I heard them talking and, stepping to the window, saw them standing together in the back yard. Randolph was a large man, powerfully built, looking like a rugged middle-aged pugilist incongruously dressed in glossy black knee boots and an elegantly cut maroon suit. His face was battered and worn, the large mouth set in a sullen curl, the eyes dark and cold. Although rich and abundant, his hair was the color of old pewter, a tarnished silver-gray. Even from this distance I could sense his innate brutality.

  My pulses leaped as they started toward the shed. It was only a matter of minutes now. They moved behind the oak trees and out of sight, and I waited, so weak I could hardly stand. He would discover the broken hasp. He would find Caleb trussed up on the floor of the shed. He would be unable to believe his own eyes at first, and then filled with an all-consuming rage. The yard was silent, everything hushed and still. Then I heard him yell. He let out a curse that carried all the way to the kitchen. Unable to contain myself, I dashed out the back door and hurried toward the shed.

  Derek was still cursing as he dragged Caleb out of the shed and began to untie him. Randolph stood with his hands on his thighs, his legs spread wide, an ugly expression on his face. Still gagged, Caleb squirmed excitedly as Derek tried to undo the ropes.

  “Be still, boy!” he shouted.

  “What—what’s happened?” I cried.

  “He’s gone. Adam’s gone. Someone broke into the shed.”

  “Cassie—” I whispered hoarsely. “She didn’t come in this—”

  “I found a hammer and a chisel in the shed. She must have used that to tear the hasp loose. Goddammit, Caleb, I said be still!”

  “Looks like we’re gonna have us a nigger hunt,” Randolph remarked.

  Derek tossed the ropes aside and untied the gag. Caleb spat out the rag Adam had stuffed into his mouth. Derek’s eyes were flashing with anger, his cheeks flushed. Caleb was so frightened he couldn’t stand still. Derek seized his arms, gripping them savagely.

  “What happened?”

  “I—I doan rightly know. I wuz on my way back from takin’ a leak an’ I heard dis owl—” Caleb hesitated, gulping, trying to control his fear.

  “Go on!”

  “You’s hurtin’ me,” Caleb whined. “You’s hurtin’ my arms—”

  “I’ll do more than that! Who tied you up? Who put you in the shed?”

  Caleb shook his head. “I—I doan know. It wuz a spook—”

  Derek released one of his arms and slapped the boy across the face with such force that Caleb’s head snapped back. He wailed loudly, and Derek slapped him again.

  “Stop it!” I cried. “Can’t you see he’s—”

  “You stay out of this!” Derek warned.

  “You’re too upset to do any good, Hawke,” Randolph said calmly. “Let me question the boy. I’ll get the information out of him.”

  Derek thrust the boy toward him. Randolph smiled and, seizing Caleb’s left wrist, jerked it straight out, gave it a brutal twist and shoved it up between the boy’s shoulder blades, grabbing hold of his hair with his free hand. Caleb let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “Derek! You must stop—”

  “Shut up!” he ordered. “Go tell Mattie I want all the slaves in their cabins in fifteen minutes.”

  Caleb screamed again as Randolph wrenched his arm up even higher.

  “You’re gonna talk, boy,” Randolph crooned, almost as though he were speaking to a lover. “You helped him get away, didn’t you? You helped him get loose, then had him tie you up so no one would think you were involved.”

  “No!” Caleb shrieked. “Massah, massah, make him let go! He’s breakin’ my arm!”

  “I’m gonna break your neck next, boy,” Randolph promised, jerking Caleb’s head back.

  “Derek!” I cried. “You can’t let this—”

  “Get out of here!” Derek thundered. “Do what I told you!”

  Caleb’s screams filled the air as I rushed away, unable to bear it, unable to watch, knowing I was responsible. The boy continued to scream, and then he sobbed and gasped and made spluttering noises. Mattie was on her front porch. She took one look at my face and hurried down the steps to fold me in her arms, holding me firmly against her great bulk, rocking me as though I were a little child. Caleb was silent now. I wondered if he had passed out.

  “It’s my fault,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, barely audible. “It’s all my fault. That terrible man—”

  “Hush, chile,” Mattie said. “They ain’t gonna kill him. Reckon he’ll jus’ get a good shakin’ up.”

  “He—doesn’t know anything. He was coming back from the outhouse last night and heard us. Adam distracted him and grabbed him from behind, and Caleb never knew—”

  “It’s all right,” Mattie crooned. “He’s done stopped hollerin’. You have to pull yourself together now, chile. You gotta be strong now. Now’s th’ time you gotta be strongest.”

  I nodded and brushed the tears from my eyes. When I gave Mattie Derek’s message, she released me and called one of the women from the smokehouse and told her to summon all the men from the fields. A few minutes later Caleb came stumbling toward the cabin, his right arm held painfully at his side, his eyes rimmed with pink and awash with tears. Mattie put her arms around him and shushed him when he started whimpering.

  “I didn’t do nuthin’,” he whined. “Dat man wuz gonna kill me. He’s a devil. He done broke my arm an’ yanked my hair somethin’ awful. I’se hungry, Mattie. I ain’t had nuthin’ to eat an’ I’m ’bout to die!”

  Mattie gave a disgusted sigh and lifted her eyes heavenwards. I was relieved to see that the boy was more frightened than anything else. Mattie led him into her cabin, and I walked slowly back to the shed. Both men ignored me. Derek had control of his anger now. Although I could tell that it still seethed inside, he maintained an icy composure that was far more frightening than his violent outburst had been.

  “There’s nothing I like better’n a good nigger hunt,” Randolph was saying. “It’s something I feel right strongly about. Guess you heard two of my niggers ran off a while back. We never did catch up with those two, but one of McKay’s bucks ran away no more’n a month ago. Now that was a hunt! Took us two full days.”

  “You caught him?”

  “Finally found him hiding in some woods damn near thirty miles from home. You shoulda seen that boy crawling around on all fours, trying to hide in some bushes. We turned the dogs loose on him. You never seen such excitement!”

  Randolph shook his head, smiling at the memory. “You’re gonna need some help, Hawke,” he continued. “While you question the rest of your niggers, I’ll go round up some of the men. They’ll be glad to help, love a good hunt as much as I do. We’ll all ride after your two. With any luck we’ll catch ’em before sundown.”

  “How long will it take you to get back here?”

  “No more’n an hour or so. I’ll stop by McKay’s place, have him send for Johnson and Arnold. Barnett’ll come, too, and Roberts. You be saddled up and ready to go in an hour, and we’ll start after them coons.”

  Derek nodded curtly. Rand
olph beamed, greatly anticipating the sport in store.

  “Reckon the first place we’re gonna look is Elijah Jones’s place. I still figure he had something to do with my niggers gettin’ away like they did. We’re gonna search that place uv his top to bottom, and if I even so much as smell a nigger I’ll personally set a torch to it!”

  Randolph hurried back to his wagon and drove away. Derek watched until he was gone, and then he turned to me, his eyes hard and determined.

  “You gave Mattie my message?” His voice was like steel.

  “They—they’ll all be in their cabins waiting for you in just a few minutes. What did Caleb say?”

  “He didn’t know anything. Adam jumped him from behind. He never even knew what happened.”

  “Derek—” I hesitated, summoning strength.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you have to go after them?”

  “I have to,” he said tersely.

  He learned nothing from the slaves. None of them had seen or heard anything. He ordered them back to work, told one of the men to saddle the chestnut stallion, and went inside to change. I waited for him outside, standing under one of the oaks, watching patterns of sunshine and shadow flickering over the ground and feeling absolutely miserable. Derek came back out a few minutes later. He was wearing his black boots and heavy blue cord breeches and jacket, the material worn with age. His face was a granite mask as he strode briskly across the yard toward me.

  “I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone,” he said. The words were crisp. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, perhaps a day, perhaps even two or three. I assume you can manage.”

  I nodded, and he moved on toward the stables without another word. I could hear horse hooves pounding on the road in front of the house. Derek mounted the chestnut and galloped away to join the planters. I heard boisterous laughter and hearty male voices, and then they all rode away. Mattie moved ponderously across the yard to join me, each step requiring an effort because of her great girth. Her black skin glistened with moisture, and her faded old blue calico dress was damp. As she joined me under the tree, I saw the concern in her velvety brown eyes.

  “He’s gone,” I said. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “You go on in now, chile. Get yoreself some sleep. You’s done enough. Ain’t nuthin’ else you can do.”

  “I’m just so worried …”

  “’Bout dem niggers? Don’t you worry none. Dat ’Lijah Jones done took ’em off an’ got ’em safely tucked away. Dem men gonna hoot an’ holler an’ have theirselves a good time, but dey ain’t gonna find no niggers. Cassie an’ Adam is safe.”

  “I hope so, Mattie.”

  “Ain’t no use you frettin’, chile.”

  Mattie was right, of course, but I continued to fret all that day, all the next. I prayed that Elijah Jones had done his part properly, prayed that Cassie and Adam were indeed safe. When Derek still hadn’t returned by morning of the third day, I began to feel relief. Surely if they were going to find the runaways, they would have found them by this time, I told myself. Feeling that Derek was bound to return that afternoon, I went down to the river and took a long, luxurious bath, washing my hair as well, and when he did indeed return around two o’clock I was wearing the red dress printed with tiny black flowers, the dress I had worn to the fair.

  His clothes were dusty and rumpled. He looked incredibly weary, and his expression was grim. I knew immediately that the hunt had been a failure, and it took considerable effort to conceal my relief. Derek didn’t say a word to me. He went straight upstairs to wash and change clothes, and later on I heard him come down to the study and close the door behind him. I knew what he must be feeling. I felt very bad about that, but I was proud of what I had done. When he still hadn’t come out of the study by four o’clock, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I had to see him, had to find out what had happened. Stepping to the study door, I knocked lightly, and he called out sharply, bidding me enter.

  He was sitting at the desk, poring over a stack of papers. I could see that he had been adding up figures, had wadded up several sheets of paper and tossed them to the floor. He turned around in the chair to face me, and I noticed that three of the desk drawers had been pulled open, including the bottom drawer containing the cigar box. My heart jumped when I saw that. Derek scowled angrily, his mood clearly thunderous. I hesitated, wishing now I hadn’t interrupted him.

  “Well?” he snapped.

  “I thought you might be hungry. I thought perhaps you might like me to … bring you something.”

  “How very thoughtful,” he said. His voice was sarcastic. “You’re lying, Marietta. You came to gloat.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “You’ll be happy to learn we couldn’t find a trace of them. No one had seen hide nor hair of them. I finally realized it was futile, told Randolph and the others we might as well give up. Cassie and Adam are long gone by this time. I’ll never get them back.”

  “I’m sorry, Derek.”

  “I still can’t understand it! How did Cassie break open the door without anyone hearing? How did Adam get free of the shackles? We found them on the side of the road a quarter of a mile from here. They’d been opened, and I had the key in my pocket the whole time. Somehow or other he managed to pick the lock.” He shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

  “We’ll get by, Derek,” I said quietly. “You’ll find a way to—”

  “Don’t play the hypocrite!” he interrupted. “You’re glad they got away. There’s no need pretending you’re not!”

  “Derek—”

  “You won’t be so damned glad when we all starve!”

  Seeing that it would be useless to try to reason with him in his present frame of mind, I turned and left the room. I refused to let his mood disturb me, and, stubbornly, I refused to feel guilty. I had betrayed his trust, yes, and he was going to have a hard time because of what I had done, but the ultimate good far outweighed the wrong I had committed. Derek would get over his ugly mood, and he would find a way to save Shadow Oaks. In the meantime, two human beings had been released from bondage and were on their way to a free life.

  I was at peace with myself as I stepped outside. The day was warm and sultry, the sky a yellow-white without a trace of blue. The oak trees cast deep shadows over the ground as I strolled toward the storehouse. Chickens clucked as they wandered about the yard. Caleb must have left the gate to their pen open again, I mused. Responsible for seeing that they had feed and water, he frequently forgot to close the gate properly. I’d have to scold the boy and have him round the hens up, for in Derek’s present state it wouldn’t do for him to find the fowls roaming freely. First, though, I would fetch the basket of apricots on the shelf in the storehouse. I would make a cobbler for supper this evening. Apricot cobbler was one of Derek’s favorite desserts.

  As I neared the storehouse, I heard a peculiar noise in the distance. It sounded like a mule braying. Intent on getting the apricots and planning the rest of the meal, I paid little mind. After he ate, after he got some rest, Derek was bound to feel better. The storehouse was dim, filled with a variety of tangy smells. I moved over to the shelf and took down the basket of apricots. The shelf was dusty. Cobwebs stretched across the corners of the ceiling. The place needed a thorough cleaning. I would have to get around to it one day soon. As I stepped out into the sunlight, I heard the back door slam. Derek came down the steps and walked across the yard toward me, his jaw thrust out, his fists clenched.

  I could feel the color draining out of my cheeks. I seemed to go numb, paralyzed in front of the storehouse, unable to move. He knew. He had counted the money in the cigar box, and he knew I had taken several pounds. He knew why. Chickens clucked noisily and flapped out of his way as he strode toward me. He didn’t even notice them. His cheeks were ashen. I could tell that he was possessed with an icy, murderous rage.

  “It was you!” he said, stopping in front of me.
/>   “I—I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Marietta! You did it! You helped them escape!”

  I shook my head, terrified. His dark-gray eyes were blazing. His hands were tight balls, the knuckles white. All the blood seemed to drain out of my body. I felt dizzy and faint, yet still I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, clutching the basket of apricots. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving. He was actually trembling with rage, and it was a full minute before he could speak again.

  “I opened the cigar box to count the money. Thirty pounds are missing. You’re the only one who knew I kept my money there. You’re the only one who could have taken it!”

  “Derek—” I pleaded. “You—you must—”

  “I knew then. I knew immediately! You helped them. You had to, else they couldn’t have pulled it off so smoothly. Cassie would never have had the guts to break into that shed!”

  I looked up at him, silent. Everything seemed to go slightly out of focus. I seemed to be standing a long way off, watching the scene with a curious detachment. This wasn’t real. It was a dream, hazy, blurred, not really happening. My mind registered the sound of a mule braying, much nearer this time, but that seemed unreal, too, part of the dream.

  “That night,” he began. “I fell asleep right after supper. I was so sleepy I didn’t even pull my breeches off. I passed out on the bed. You gave me something, didn’t you? You got some kind of powder from Mattie and put it in my food!”

  Derek seized my arms and shook me violently. I dropped the basket. Apricots rolled all around us.

  “Didn’t you? Didn’t you!”

  “Y-yes,” I stammered. “Yes, I did.”

  “Goddamn, Marietta! Why? Why!”

  “Mattie—Mattie had nothing to do with it. I … I told her I was having trouble getting to sleep. She gave me the powder, but … she had no idea I intended to—”

  “You wanted to make sure I was asleep so I wouldn’t hear!”

  I nodded, and he slapped my face, slapped me so forcefully that I reeled backwards, stumbling, almost falling. I hardly noticed the pain. Through my tears I saw the man in buckskins leading his two mules around the side of the house, but I paid no attention. Everything was lost. I knew that. Derek would never forgive me.