Texas Angel, 2-in-1

by Judith Pella

  “We agreed—“ Benjamin protested.

  “I only agreed because I figured you’d be too pigheaded to accept my assistance otherwise.”

  “But—”

  “Listen, Reverend, I ain’t never yet taken no money from a servant of God, and I sure don’t intend to start with you, even if you did make me earn it more than most folk. Keep your money, Reverend. I don’t want it.”

  “As you said, you earned it.” Benjamin didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what to make of this man he had traveled with for over a week.

  Fife shook his head, then jumped from the wagon. “Come on, young’uns.” He turned his attention to his other passengers. “Let ole Tom help you out of this hard wagon.” Setting each one upon the street, he gave them a warm smile, so incongruent with his grimy, unkempt countenance. “I’m gonna miss you kids.”

  “We’ll miss you, too, Tom,” Micah said with a fleeting glance toward his father. Benjamin chose to ignore the defiance in that glance.

  “Well,” Fife said, “I might take myself to Texas one of these days, so I reckon our paths could cross again.”

  Isabel reached up and gave him a hug. Fife picked up the child and planted a kiss on her forehead. Benjamin pretended not to see as he helped his wife from the wagon, then busied himself with unloading their carpetbags and other belongings. Finally, however, he could avoid the driver no longer. Decency demanded he bid the man a proper farewell.

  “Mr. Fife, thank you again for your generous assistance. We couldn’t have made it without you.”

  “I doubt that, Reverend. Whatever else you may be, you are tough.

  You ain’t one to give up easily.”

  “Nevertheless . . .” Benjamin paused, then added hesitantly, “And about what I said before . . . perhaps I spoke harshly. God bless you, Mr. Fife.”

  “And you, too, sir.”

  CHAPTER

  4

  ONE BY ONE THE WOMEN shuffled out of the low-ceilinged, dimly lit room and followed a big male slave carrying a cast-iron pot of greens and ham.

  Elise shrank back into the shadows, clutching her baby, little three-month-old Hannah, tightly to her breast, feeling no comfort from the contented sucking of the child. She had no appetite herself. The filth and smell of the slave quarters were only part of the reason, but that was nothing compared to the humiliation Elise felt at her circumstance. An outcast in the only world she had known, she might have hoped this new world would at least open up to her. But many of the slaves resented and despised her almost as much as did the Hearne family. She had shown her disdain for her Negro blood by trying to hide it, and thus the Negro community shunned her as well.

  “At least dat baby do eat good” came a woman’s voice from the doorway of the hut. She entered, closing the door behind her. She came up and held out a bowl of greens. “Here you go. I don’t want no niggers dyin’ in my hut.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Elise said.

  Hattie was a kindly woman, middle-aged with graying hair and a soft, intense voice. She worked in the sewing hut. Unlike many of the others, she had been less hostile toward Elise. It still made Elise shudder when she thought of the last three nights. Since she had not been put to work, she spent her days mostly alone, caring for Hannah and preparing the evening meal for the slaves. She dreaded the nights most, when all the slaves returned from their work. Not that they mistreated her—if it were only that! The cold silence was far more disturbing. Even Carrie, who had been her maid for a year, had changed. Elise had always been kind and considerate to the girl, but now Carrie acted as though Elise had whipped and abused her.

  Elise almost wished Thomson’s lawyer would arrive quickly and rescue her from this existence. Not that she could hope for anything better from Thomson.

  “Lookee here, girl,” Hattie scolded, “your milk is gonna be weak if ’n you don’t eat. Den what of de chile?”

  “What do you care?”

  “I know we ain’t be welcoming of you, girl. You ain’t one of us, even if de massa says so. But I been thinkin’ it ain’t your fault neither. . . .”

  “How do you know of these things?”

  “You think folks don’t talk?” She chuckled, a low sound that barely broke through her lips. “Why, der ain’t nothin’ dat happens in de big house dat we darkies don’t know ’bout.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “Your mama was a quadroon dat passed for white. You didn’t know till jes’ before you married wid de massa’s boy. I guess anybody would of done what you did.”

  “That’s not the impression everyone here has given me. They act as if I have betrayed my race by trying to pass as white.”

  Hattie shrugged. “Dey gots to say dat. But I’ll wager der ain’t a person here who don’t wish every day dere skin was white as snow. A person’s got to do what a person’s got to do, dat’s all.”

  “What do you want, Hattie? Why are you talking to me now?”

  “I got da conviction, dat’s all. Jesus done tole me to show you Christian kindness. So I’m obeying.” She pushed the bowl toward Elise.

  “I don’t believe in God. . . .”

  “Everybody believes in God!” Hattie’s tone rose from its calm, deep timber, expressing surprise at such a terrible admission.

  “Well, I suppose I believe. He just has never been that important to me.” Elise didn’t want to offend this woman who might be her only friend.

  “Mebbe dat’s why He’s finally turning His back on you.”

  “Why not? Everyone else has.” Elise heard the bitterness in her voice and hated it. “Is that what you really wanted, Hattie, to preach at me?”

  “I wanted to give you some greens. I ain’t gonna preach no more at you. What’s betwix you and God ain’t none of my business.”

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “Now eat so’s you stay alive for de chile.” Hattie laid a dark brown hand on Elise’s arm.

  “I suppose you’re right. I’m all she has now. I only wish things could be different . . . for my baby’s sake.” Elise wanted to weep whenever she thought of Hannah’s bleak future and that her father had so rejected her.

  “I was born a slave,” Hattie said. “I ain’t knowed nothing else. It’s different for you. Dis life is gonna go a lot harder on you. It ain’t right.”

  “Well, I’ve not much choice in the matter. I keep hoping my father will come and help me somehow. I’m sure he has no money if he lost his house. But he might be able to raise some so that he could buy me from Thomson. . . .” Elise sighed hopelessly. “Hattie, how much do you think a strong young woman such as myself, with a baby, would go for on the auction block?”

  “A lot, girl.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. More than my father could ever raise.”

  “Mebbe der’s another way. . . .”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard dat the overseer’s wife came by the big house to ask after you.”

  “Rowena?”

  Elise had met Rowena Cowley when she first came to the plantation. They were both about the same age, and though Rowena had been at that time far below Elise’s social station, Elise had liked her and found her better company than Kendell’s snooty sisters. Once, when Daphne had learned Elise had visited Rowena at her house, she had given Elise a severe reprimand for mixing with white trash.

  Yes, she and Rowena had been friendly at one time, but who could say what her attitude would be now? It could be risky for Rowena to show sympathy for the outcast daughter-in-law of her husband’s employer.

  “Mebbe she could help you,” Hattie suggested.

  “It might bring trouble on her.”

  “Mo’ trouble than you being shipped off as a slave?” Hattie’s dark eyebrow arched, but no more was said because at that moment the door opened again.

  Kendell Hearne stood framed in the opening, the last rays of the setting sun illuminating him eerily. Nevertheless, the sight of him brought a
lump to Elise’s throat. She couldn’t help that she still loved him, although the love was liberally mixed with hatred, too.

  Yet even as she felt that ire toward him, a spark of hope rose up in her. Had he come to rescue her at last?

  “Leave us,” Kendell said to Hattie.

  “Yessir, massa.” Hattie gave Elise a reassuring pat and stood to exit the hut.

  Elise smiled tentatively. Then she laid Hannah in the box that was her cradle, and she, too, rose and faced her husband. “Kendell, have you come for me?” How she hated herself for her pleading tone, especially when it was met with a blank expression, cool and devoid of emotion, just like his father’s. Even some of Daphne’s fire would have been welcome just then.

  “I wanted to let you know we have been officially granted a legal separation. My father saw to it that the matter was expedited. Neither of us are free to remarry, of course.”

  “I don’t want to marry another, Kendell. I love—”

  “Stop!” His voice was sharp but a little desperate, too. “Our marriage is over.”

  “But you said yourself it isn’t—”

  “There is still the possibility of an annulment. I am certain the courts will side with me in this matter.”

  “I love you!” Sobbing, Elise threw her arms around Kendell, not caring about her pride. He had come to her; it must mean something. She had to do everything in her power to make him take her back. She clung to him and kissed him, and for a moment she was certain he responded, holding her as he used to, kissing her thick hair. Then suddenly he stiffened and pulled away.

  “You deceived me. You ruined me.” His voice shook with accusation, and Elise realized that his love, too, was mixed with hatred.

  “Must I suffer the rest of my life for one mistake? Should our child suffer?” she implored.

  “I don’t want to see you suffer.” His voice softened. “But it is out of my hands. You are Thomson’s property.”

  “You could buy me from him.”

  “And then what?”

  “We could be together. You wouldn’t be the first white man to marry a . . . Negro.” The word still caught in her throat. Her stomach knotted each time she realized who and what she was.

  “That would mean losing everything, Elise. I’ve already lost my place in society, but at least I will still inherit the plantation. Maybe in time people will forget my mistake.”

  “Isn’t love worth it?” But even to Elise the words sounded trite.

  Kendell turned away from her. “I would have to live my life as an outcast because I could never perpetuate the lie as your father did. I would never pass my child off as white to some poor unsuspecting man. And they say if we had more children, one could come along that was black as night. I couldn’t live with these things.”

  “Why?” she pleaded.

  “Because . . .” Still he could not look directly at her. “I am not strong enough.”

  “Oh, Kendell . . .”

  “Forgive me, Elise.” He walked away, leaving the hut without a second look at her or their child.

  What made her most angry was that she felt sorry for him. As she crumpled down upon the dirt floor, she heaped a load of recriminations upon herself. She had ruined him, and she had no right to expect him to give up what little he now had for her.

  It was time for her to accept her lot. She was a slave, a piece of property of less value than a thoroughbred horse. Her skin may as well be as black as Hattie’s. But acceptance made the truth no easier to bear. She lay down on the thin pallet that was her bed and wept. Hattie returned and tried to comfort her, to no avail. Elise cried the whole night through.

  CHAPTER

  5

  THE SOUND OF CHIRR UPING CRICKETS had no soothing quality this night. Elise’s taut nerves jumped with every musical note. When her foot snapped a twig, her heart nearly stopped. She clutched Hannah tighter in her arms with each step. She had every reason to be afraid. She was breaking the law, committing a dastardly crime. She was seeking her freedom.

  Five days had passed since that final discussion with Kendell in the slave quarters. In the meantime, Hattie, acting as a go-between, had arranged with Rowena Cowley a plan to help Elise escape. Rowena’s brother, an abolitionist, was willing to help her. Elise wasn’t sure what an “abolitionist” was, nor was Hattie certain, but the slave said it sounded like a good thing.

  Elise was to meet him after sundown in a specified place in the thick woods on the west side of the plantation. There was a big tree stump where she and Rowena had once picnicked after picking berries. The brother and Rowena would be waiting there. Elise had only her baby and a small rucksack slung over her shoulder, which contained her only possessions— the few baby things Mother Hearne had allowed her to take from the big house. For herself, she had not been allowed to take anything. When she had donned one of the slave’s castoffs, she had been required to return to Daphne the stylish day dress she had been wearing. She now wore an ill-fitting homespun dress that was old and ragged and had been passed around among many slave women. Elise’s beautiful gowns and jewelry no longer belonged to her. They belonged to the Hearnes, as she also did—until Maurice Thomson claimed ownership.

  The night was chilly, for it was still early in the month of May. There was no moon and Elise had difficulty finding her way, but this night had been chosen specifically for that reason. The darkness was her ally. If anyone did come after her, she hoped they would have as difficult a time in the woods as she.

  Just as she began to fear she had taken a wrong turn, the dark mass of the large stump appeared before her. Her sigh of relief was only momentary, for she immediately noted there was no one there to greet her. Not liking to stand exposed in the clearing surrounding the stump, she crouched down behind it, her heart thumping wildly.

  Then Hannah began to cry.

  “Hush! Hush, my baby,” Elise cooed softly. But it was feeding time, and the child did not heed her mother’s entreaty.

  Suddenly the sound of footsteps crunched and crackled into the clearing. Elise prayed the sound came from Rowena and her brother.

  “Miz Elise!” came Rowena’s welcome voice.

  Elise scrambled from her hiding place.

  “Don’t do no good to hide if you got a wailing baby waking up the entire countryside,” said the man standing next to Rowena.

  “Hold your tongue, Wade!” Rowena hissed. “She can’t help it.”

  “I’ve got to feed her,” Elise tried to explain. “It’ll be the only way to keep her quiet.” Elise looked from Rowena to Wade. Even in the darkness she could see sympathy emanating from Rowena, a pretty girl with a round face and plump figure. Wade, on the other hand, was tall and gangly, and his eyes were two sharp scowling bits of white in the night.

  “Get on with it, then!” Wade said.

  “Turn yourself around,” Rowena snapped at her brother. “The poor girl don’t want the whole world to gawk, you know.”

  Wade obeyed. Elise squatted down by the stump and took the thin blanket she’d used in the slave quarters. Then tucking it discreetly around the baby, she quickly began feeding the hungry child. With his back still turned, Wade started to talk.

  “Soon as you’re finished there,” he said, “we’re gonna head north.

  I can get you to the border. That’s about a hundred miles.”

  “What will I do then? That’s still in the South, isn’t it?”

  “I’m taking a mighty big risk doing that much.” Somehow Wade did not seem as enthusiastic as Elise had hoped.

  “But how will I know the way?” Elise was beginning to despair before she even began her perilous escape.

  “Honey,” interjected Rowena’s kindly voice, “there’s folks along the way who’ll help you. Wade has a couple names. It’s risky, but wouldn’t you rather do that than end up a . . . well, you know?” Dear Rowena had no more accepted Elise’s fate than she had herself.

  “I suppose so. It wouldn’t be so fearsome if it wasn’t
for Hannah.”

  “You can do it, Miz Elise.” Rowena sat beside Elise and put her arm around her thin shoulders. This was the only friend Elise had in the world. Then Rowena said something that truly surprised her. “You know, Miz Elise, I always knew you were a strong woman. That’s what I admired about you.”

  “Me?” Elise could not believe she had heard right. “I’ve been pampered and cared for all my life. I really never had to do anything for myself. Even when my father was flat broke, I had a maid. Rowena, I’ve never done a brave or courageous thing in my entire life.”

  “Well, now you got to be brave—for Hannah. I know you can, too.”

  “You are a good friend, Rowena. Mere thanks aren’t good enough.”

  “You was decent to me when everyone at the big house treated me like trash, Miz Elise. You don’t need to say nothing about thanks. We’re even.”

  Wade was pacing about anxiously. “Ain’t that kid done yet?”

  “Just another couple of minutes.”

  Wade rambled on about their journey, what towns they should avoid, good places to find food, and what difficulties they might encounter. The things he said were very sketchy, and Elise wondered how often he had made the trip. From the way he paced so skittishly, it appeared possible he had never done it. Perhaps he had never aided a runaway slave either. But Elise didn’t have the courage to ask him. At least he was willing. No sense ruining that with too much scrutiny.

  Finally Hannah stopped sucking and dozed off. Elise stood. “We’re ready.”

  Rowena held out a bulging flour sack. “It ain’t much, just enough food for a couple days. It’s all I could spare. There’s a dollar in there, too, from my egg money.”

  Overcome by sudden emotion, Elise threw her free arm around her friend. She couldn’t speak.

  “Now get on with you.” Rowena kissed Elise’s cheek.

  “I’ll . . . never see you again,” Elise finally managed to say through her tears.

  “I hope not!” Rowena’s voice was choked as well. Smiling, she added, “We’ll see each other in the Hereafter.”