Esther

by Jim Cox

  “I have one, Mr. Doyle,” Mark said. “How many days will it take us to get where we’re goin’? It seems like we’re moving awful slow.”

  “If you go all the way to Paducah, the trip normally takes twelve days; maybe a day or two longer if there’s a slow current.”

  “How do you get the barge back, Mr. Doyle?” Mark asked.

  “We don’t. We sell it to friends in Paducah who then use it to haul folks down the Ohio River to Cairo, Illinois where the river empties into the mighty Mississippi. Charles and I ride our horses back home from Paducah and start building a new barge to take on our next trip.” Mark nodded his understanding.

  Mrs. Connors raised her hand. “I have a question, Mr. Owens. Will we be passing or stopping at any towns during our trip?”

  “We’ll be passing a few riverside towns, Mrs. Connors, but most of the small villages along the way are full of riff-raff who give travelers like us trouble, so we avoid stopping in towns ʼtil we get to Paducah.” He found Esther’s eyes and gave a slight nod. She nodded back with tight lips.

  The following few days on the river were much like the first. The scenery was a bit different but not much. They floated through valleys between hills topped with leafless trees and an occasional pine or evergreen. They often came around bends in the river where unexpected deer or other animals were standing by the bank. The typical January weather stayed with them. Cold at night but warming considerably during the day. It sprinkled one afternoon, and all aboard had to put on rain gear or huddle under ground cloths, but the rain was rather refreshing and washed things down.

  Nights were a little lonely. Once, after supper, while the Taylors were staring into their campfire without many words, Joan spoke up, “What do you think Pa’s doing these days, Ma? I miss him even though he was mean to us. Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

  “I know, sweetheart…I miss him too. Maybe we’ll see him someday, but I doubt if it’ll be anytime soon—we have to let matters settle out for a spell.”

  “He doesn’t even know where we’re headed, Ma. How’s he gonna know where to find us?” she asked.

  “When we get settled and the time is right, I’ll write to your Grandma Taylor and ask about him. Maybe they’ve kept up with his whereabouts.”

  Mark spoke up, “How come we ain’t ever seen or heard from Grandma and Grandpa Taylor, Ma…don’t they like us?”

  “They got mad at your pa and me when we moved from their farm before you were born, son. They were planning on your pa helping out with the farming during their old age and even wanted him to take over the place after their death, but your pa had different ideas.”

  The fire had been banked, and their bedrolls filled when Mark asked his mother the night’s last question, “Whatever happened to your ma and pa?”

  “They died of cholera the year after you were born.” Minutes later, sleep came as the katydids chirped.

  Chapter Thirteen

  According to Doyle, they’d be in Paducah by mid-afternoon the following day where they could find a hotel and rest up for a day or two before heading down the Ohio. The thought of a hotel room brought smiles as visions of long hot baths, soft beds, and hot home cooked meals filled the traveler’s minds.

  It was darker than normal when the barge stopped in a dense wooded area at twilight, their last night on the Cherokee river. Clouds had filled the sky causing darkness to come earlier than normal; consequently, meals were prepared and eaten quickly. After drinking a cup or two of coffee, the travelers began to prepare themselves for bed. Folks ambled away from camp to relieve themselves before lying down for the night. Mark went a little upriver while Joan and Esther stayed close together and angled downriver a bit.

  Mark had returned from the woods, crawled under his covers, and fell quickly asleep only to wake a couple of hours later when a fire log rolled over sending crackling sparks flying. He rose, banked the fire again, and was headed back to his bed when he noticed Joan’s and his ma’s bedrolls were flat. “Ma, are you over there?” he whispered, but there was no answer. Mark quickly dressed, stomped back into his boots, put on his coat and hat, and walked in a circle around camp calling out softly—nothing.

  “What’s wrong, Mark?” voiced Doyle as he walked up in blackness.

  Mark answered with alarm to his voice, “It’s Ma and Joan, Mr. Doyle. I can’t find ʼem anywhere. I’ve made a big circle around camp calling for ʼem, but they ain’t around. They ain’t been in their bedrolls either—both beds are smooth and ain’t been laid in. And another thing, Mr. Doyle, the barge is gone! I saw it missing when I went checking on ʼem at the river.”

  Just then Charles came walking up. “What’s going on,” he asked. “Something woke me up and then I heard you talkin’.”

  “Esther and Joan are missing, Charles, and Mark says the barge is gone.”

  Charles’ puzzled face didn’t show in the dark as he turned and started off. “I’m going to the river and take a look where the barge was docked,” Charles said. “You two can build up the fire so you can see what else might be missin’.”

  After adding logs to the fire, Doyle asked, “Is Blue and the backpack still here, Mark?”

  “Yes, sir; the backpack is by Ma’s bedroll and Blue’s laying over yonder,” Mark said pointing to the mule.

  There was a minute of silence before Mark asked in a concerned tone, “Where do you think they might have gone, Mr. Doyle? Do you suppose those river kidnappers you talked about might have taken ʼem and cut our barge loose?”

  “That’s a possibility, Mark, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe there’s a good explanation. We’ll wait for Charles to come back and then decide what’s happened.”

  Several minutes later, Charles came running back, completely out of breath. “The barge tie lines have been cut and the barge ain’t in sight,” he said excitedly, taking in deep gulps of breath. “It’s floated downstream…no telling how far.”

  “You’re the woodsman of the family, Charles; what do you think we should do?” Doyle said with penetrating eyes toward his brother.

  Charles studied on the question for a couple minutes and then between breaths said, “I know it’s tempting for all of us to start chasing after our barge and the women right now, but I’m thinking it might be best if everyone stayed here for the night and let me go exploring for the barge alone. I’m sorry to say, but more than likely it was kidnappers who cut our barge afloat and confiscated the women. If that’s the case, they’ve already been floating downriver for several hours, and our barge has gone aground someplace. I’ll find it if it takes me all night and then I’ll return for you. We can make a quick search for the women’s tracks at the first twinge of light and then head out.”

  “Is there anything I can do ʼfore morning,” Mark asked.

  “You need to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll wake you when it’s time to leave,” Charles said. The boy nodded.

  The following morning as the sky was turning gray, Mark rolled the beds and packed them along with his other items into Blue’s backpack before taking the mule for water. He was waiting anxiously with coffee in hand when Doyle and Charles walked up.

  “You’re up a mite early, Mark. Did you get any sleep?” Doyle asked.

  “Yes, sir; I ain’t been up long, but I’ve already packed things and taken Blue to water. I’m ready to head out, Mr. Doyle, whenever you are.”

  “It’ll be a few minutes before the others are ready to leave,” Charles said. “I’d like for you to show me a good stamp of your ma’s and sister’s shoe prints, Mark. There’s probably some prints in the soft sand where we docked the barge. If we can find some, it’ll give me an identifiable pattern we can follow.” They started off.

  “These are good ones, Mark,” Charles said as he squatted down in the soft sand by the water. After a long examine, he looked puzzled and then asked, “These are prints from men’s boots, Mark, and they’re identical size and style. Did your ma and s
ister have on identical men boots?”

  “Yes, sir; I bought ʼem myself from the mercantile a few days before we arrived at your place. Ma told me to buy two pair of size nine men’s boots for the two of ʼem—she said men’s boots would make for an easier walk.”

  “When did you last see your sister and ma, Mark?” The boy explained. Charles turned to his brother, “Doyle, go get our horses and the other travelers; be sure they bring their belongings. I’ve already packed ours on one of the horses, but you can look around to see if I overlooked anything.” Doyle nodded and started off.

  Several minutes later, Doyle was returning with the horses and other travelers. As they approached, Charles called out, “We’re going to make a search for any signs of the women’s abduction. Spread out everyone and follow the river westward. If you see anything that looks suspicious call out.”

  They’d walked about fifty yards when Mr. Connors voiced his find, “Come on over; I’ve found a lot of tracks, and some of ʼem look like the women’s.”

  Charles kneeled and studied the surrounding ground. After studying the situation for a spell, he determined a scuffle had taken place between the women and three men before leaving in a westward direction.

  As they followed the tracks, they came to a location where the three men had obviously stationed themselves waiting for their opportunity. A circle of ground had been stomped on, leaving boot prints and several cigarette butts. Charles picked up several butts and examined them thoroughly. “Two of the three men are smokers,” he said. “One twists the ends of the paper in one direction, and the other man twists his in the opposite direction. They both use thick paper and poorly dried tobacco—probably homegrown.” Doyle accepted his brother’s information with a nod and then started following the tracks again that led to barge marks in the river bank sand a couple hundred yards downstream. It was obvious the women had been forced onto the barge and hauled away downstream. “How long ago did they leave, Charles?” his brother asked.

  “From the looks of these prints and from what Mark has said, I’d say they took off early last night.”

  “That would be around ten hours ago,” Doyle said in a disappointed tone. Charles nodded with a furrowed forehead, and Mark stood wide-eyed.

  “What are we gonna do?” Mark asked. “I sure do need your help getting my ma and sister back.”

  “Without a doubt, they’re headed for Paducah,” Charles said, “at least that’ll be their first stop. All we can do is continue down the river on our barge. I located it last night after we found out it was missing. It’s farther on downstream about a quarter of a mile.” Charles paused and then said, “I wouldn’t count on finding them at Paducah; I imagine they’ll hit the Ohio and continue on toward the Mississippi without stopping.”

  Doyle looked at his brother and nodded for him to get started.

  The current seemed exceptionally slow to Mark that morning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “We sure were lucky to have spotted the barge a couple miles upstream from town yesterday with these women aboard. It gave us time to load our belongings and stay ahead of ʼem out of sight,” Esther heard a raspy-voiced man say from the back of the raft.

  There was a minute or two of silence before the man spoke again, “Be careful up there and don’t let us hit something or run aground. It's pitch dark, and you won’t be able to see a thing ʼtil you’re on top of it,” ordered the raspy-voiced man, who was obviously the kidnapper’s boss.

  “Don’t worry, I know this river like the back of my hand; just keep the backend straight,” the man up front countered as he steadied his guide pole, ready to make any necessary corrections.

  Esther’s outward appearance seemed calm, but on the inside, her stomach was in knots as she contemplated her predicament and a possible means of escape. She sat at the middle, left side of the men’s barge with her back against the railing; her ankles and wrists were tied with rawhide, but her gag had been removed. She had been in this position for close to two hours and was starting to feel cramped from the bindings and the awkward sitting position. Joan was bound likewise but had cried herself to sleep, and she now had her head resting on her mother’s shoulder.

  The dark sky above was clouded, and a wind had come up causing small waves to lap at the barge’s underpinning, sending up a cold spray of water every-so-often. Esther listened to each word spoken by her kidnappers. If she could uncover their plan, she hoped she could figure out a way to escape with her daughter. Esther’s stomach tightened as she thought about Joan’s terrible fate if their abduction was successful and they’d fall into the hands of the Mexican prostitution lords. She feared her own fate would be brutal, but her age might help her better understand the cruelty; undoubtedly, Joan, in her pure youth, would have a harder time of it.

  Several minutes went by without words ʼtil a third man spoke, who Esther had not heard before, “The young girl sure is a pretty thing, ain’t she? She might be young, but she’s a looker. I’d like to get to know her.”

  “You stay away from her,” the boss said. “She’ll fetch us good money, maybe five/six hundred dollars from Mr. Haskins when we get to New Orleans if she stays fresh and unmolested. I imagine he can get near a thousand dollars for her when he takes her on down to Mexico and sells her.”

  “How about her mother?” the third man asked. “How much do you think we can get for her?”

  “She’s lost her youth, but she sure is a looker for her age,” the boss said with a smile hidden from Esther by the darkness. “Mr. Haskins will pick her up in a minute—might pay as much as three hundred dollars.”

  “That’ll give us a thousand dollars to split which is considerably more than our last trip, Boss, and I’m needing’ it—I’m running low on cash,”

  Time passed slowly as the craft floated lazily in the current. The clouds had passed, and the sky brightened, allowing the river’s embankment to be seen more clearly.

  Darkness eventually gave way to the sunrise; however, the sun was coming up on the right side of the craft which meant they were traveling in a northerly direction. “Looks like we’ve come to where the river runs north, boss. Don’t it mean we’ll be in Paducah by nightfall?”

  “It’ll probably be pitch dark again by the time we get there,” the boss answered. Then he continued, “Never could figure out why this river runs north for a couple hundred miles—it’s the only one I know of that don’t run south or west—probably caused by some earthquake years back.” His cohorts nodded.

  When the sun had climbed for an hour or so, the boss told one of his men to fetch the salt-pork sandwiches from their food bag and pass ʼem around for breakfast, which he did. He also dipped up river water in a bucket and put a dipper in it. “How are we gonna eat with our hands tied?” Esther asked when he held a sandwich out to her. “You need to untie our legs and hands to eat and allow our circulation to return. We can’t swim; we’re not gonna run away.” The man looked at the boss who nodded his okay, so the bindings were removed.

  The women were hungry, so they quickly ate the sandwiches and drank two dippers of water when it was offered. Then they walked around the barge rail to get their blood circulating again. After three circles the boss said, “It’s time to get your bindings back on; we’ll only tie your hands for now and let your feet stay free. If you act decent and don’t try to run away, we might even untie your hands later on.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Esther said. “But…”

  “I ain’t to be called, sir. Call me Boss like the others on board,” he said firmly. After a pause, he asked, “What were you about to say?”

  “My daughter and I need to go ashore and relieve ourselves, and it needs to be fairly soon.”

  The boss thought on the matter for a few seconds and then called out, “Pull the barge ashore at the next good place. We’ll be stopping for a few minutes for the ladies to relieve themselves. They can get behind some brush, but we ain’t gonna be far away. We don’t want ʼem running a
way.”

  While Esther and Joan were squatted down behind some weeds, Esther whispered, “Joan, we’ve got to keep our heads while we make our escape plans. We have a few weeks before the barge gets to New Orleans which should offer us an opportunity to get away. But we have to be careful; don’t try anything unless you get a signal from me.” Joan nodded.

  “Ma,” Joan whispered, “do you think anyone will be coming to get us?” Joan paused in thought before continuing, “Maybe Mr. Doyle and Mr. Charles will come for us with Mark.”

  “It not likely, Joan. Mark will undoubtedly try to come after us, but the Owens’s will be turning back to their place when they land. I heard ʼem say they had already sold their barge to someone in Paducah.” Joan’s lips tightened.

  The day lingered on. It was a beautiful January, sunshiny day with an easy westerly breeze. As usual, critters were seen along the river bank as pillow-like clouds floated overhead in the west Kentucky sky. The men seemed to be quiet with few words, and occasionally Esther saw one sitting against the rail with closed eyes. On two occasions, they were aroused into action and had to push hard with their poles to keep the craft in mid-stream as they passed through and around stones in white waters.

  Sandwiches were passed out again at noon, and the water bucket was close at hand. The women were unbound and allowed to walk around and talk to each other as they pleased but were still being watched closely. Joan had consoled herself with hopes her mother would somehow come up with a means for their escape and kept her attention on her and the landscape. On-the-other-hand, Esther outwardly tried to appear calm and resigned, but internally she was churning, trying to figure out a means of escape, if only for her daughter. Maybe I can get their attention with sexual overtures while Joan gets away, she thought, but where would she go in this dense, brush-covered land? Esther put this idea away and pondered on other means to get away—none came to her.