A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy

by Lauraine Snelling

  HEADING TO INDEPENDENCE

  Circumventing Blytheville took some planning.

  Jesselynn stared at the map Benjamin had drawn in the dirt with a stick. Carthage lay behind them, Blytheville ahead. If there weren’t regular Union army located in the area, the dreaded Quantrill Raiders could show up anywhere, anytime. They specialized in night travel too. Only their purpose wasn’t a new life of freedom. Theirs was to bring destruction everywhere and plant fear into every heart within reach. They were supposed to be Confederate cavalry, but most people described them as the devil’s cavalry.

  “But if we go this way . . .” She pointed to a road that ran northwest from the one they were taking to meet the main road between Kansas City and points south. That road used by the armies and freight haulers, besides ordinary citizens, cut a line through Kansas farmland, rich when enough rain fell. Lakes and swamps dotted the Missouri side of the border, so travel could not be as direct. Jesselynn studied the drawing some more. The war! Always the war. Soldiers to hide from, no matter which side they fought for, since they all needed horses.

  “We got dis far. We can make it.” Meshach held Sammy up on his shoulders and jiggled him every once in a while, eliciting giggles from above and frowns from below. Thaddeus had yet to have a turn. “De good Lawd see us through.”

  “Which way do you think we should go?” She looked up in time to see Sammy clamp his little hands over Meshach’s eyes.

  “I think Benjamin should go on into Blytheville and ask around. Or you, like you done planned before.” Meshach removed the hands from his eyes and jiggled his rider. More giggles.

  Jesselynn sighed. Instead of getting easier to play the part of a young man, it was getting harder. I should be used to it by now, she told herself. I can be a woman again when we reach Oregon. In Oregon they would be safely away from the war. Away from slavery, armies, and bushwhackers. Away from traveling at night and worrying that they may be found during the day.

  She’d heard the land there was free for homesteading, just as Meshach dreamed of. There were mountains and lush valleys where, folks said, you could stick a fence post in the ground and a tree would sprout. Fruit trees, tall trees to cut for cabins, wheat, cattle—everything seemed to do well in Oregon, just like in the Garden of Eden. Only the lazy would starve in Oregon Territory. Folks could eat off the land, they said, with enough wild things to feed anyone willing to pick, dig, or shoot. If the stories were half true, the land would be worth the trip.

  But first they had to get to Independence.

  She sighed and, ignoring her dreams of possibilities, turned her attention back to the matter at hand. Lord, which way do you want us to go? Your Word says you’ll guide us and keep us, and we need that now, as much as ever. Daily she gave thanks that she’d turned back to her Lord. Even though at times the darkness would try to sneak in again, she remembered how she loved the light and wanted—needed it, like she needed air to breathe.

  She took in a deep breath and let it out. “All right, much as I hate to, I’ll take Roman and go explore a bit of the town. Daniel, you want to come with me?”

  The youngest of their group, Daniel, roused from his dozing against a log and leaped to his feet. “Shore do, Marse Jesse. I gets Roman for us.”

  Both riding the mule, they entered the town by the back streets, only to find it full of people, all heading toward the town square. They caught the whispers. A hanging was about to happen. Jesselynn had no desire to see a hanging, but wandering through the crowd could most likely fill her in on all the news and the gossip too. They dismounted and tied the mule to a hitching post behind a store. With a pat on Roman’s rump that raised a cloud of dust, she pointed Daniel down one street, and she took the other.

  “Be back here before the sun goes past that church spire.”

  He nodded after following her pointing finger. “I be back.”

  Jesselynn could see the gallows looming black in the westering sun. A rope dangled from the high beam, but while the crowd continued to gather, no one mounted the stairs yet.

  A woman pushed by, dragging a young child by the hand. “Hurry up, now. We want to be there when they put the rope over his head.”

  Jesselynn felt her stomach turn. She ambled from group to group, pausing now and then to listen. She stopped by a couple of townspeople when she overheard mention of the raiders.

  “They come like thieves in the night, take what they want, and burn the rest.” The speaker hawked and spit, nearly hitting Jesselynn’s boot toe. “Sorry.” The man glanced at her and turned back to his companion. “I heard tell that they are recruiting again, but you got to have your own horse to join up. Ya’d think the army would supply the horses.”

  “Shoot, the army ain’t got siccum. They’s pulling all the troops back to Virginny, I heard.”

  “Leavin’ Quantrill in charge out here?” His look of shock sent shivers up Jesselynn’s back.

  “No. An army will remain at Fort Scott. They know the rebs will be right back here if there’s no troops. Arkansas is too close for that.”

  When they started jawing about the local sheriff, Jesselynn slipped on to the next group. Who could she ask about the roads north? Who were they hanging and why? As more people poured into the square, Jesselynn almost resorted to pushing to get by a group of five women. Why was a hanging more like celebrating the Fourth of July?

  “’Scuse me. Pardon me.” One well-rounded matron stepped backward, right on Jesselynn’s foot.

  “Ouch.” But her voice drowned in the laughter.

  “Here now, son. Up on my shoulders, you’ll be able to see everything.” The man swung his boy up, barely catching Jesselynn with his elbows.

  Drawing a breath of relief at escaping the horde, Jesselynn stepped up onto the porch of the bank building and leaned against the post, scanning the crowd while she drew her knife from her pocket and, opening the blade, began to clean her fingernails. Studying the impacted dirt, she listened to the men behind her.

  “Hangin’ is too good for ‘im.”

  At that comment, she angled herself so she could see them out the corner of her eye.

  “Shoulda just shot him. That’s what I say. Anyone who’d rob the store and shoot ol’ Avery through the heart deserves shootin’. Why, he gave away more food than he sold when times were really tough. Don’t care how desperate the man was.” He shook his head, then lifted his hat with one hand and smoothed his hair back with the other before settling the slouch-brimmed thing back securely on his head. “I went on the posse, ya know. If the sheriff hadn’t threatened to shoot any man who took matters into his own hands, we’da been saved the work on the scaffold and all.”

  “But the ‘portant thing is, he’s goin’ to swing.”

  “I just wished he’d been one of them raiders, that’s all. Let me get my hands on those thievin’ skunks, and I’d—”

  “Just pray they don’t come out your way.”

  “Ain’t got nothin’ for them anyways.”

  “You got chickens, ‘n hogs ‘n such, ain’t ya? That’s what they’re lookin’ for. And hay left in your barn or grain in the bin? They gotta eat and feed their horses. They don’t offer no pay neither.”

  When a man shouted for their attention, Jesselynn’s attention swung back to the raised platform. A quick glance told her the black-coated man boasted a star, so he must be the sheriff. As the crowd roared and pressed forward, the better to hear, she closed her pocketknife and, sliding it back in her pocket, stepped off the porch. All her listening had done was put the fear of night travel back at the top of her list.

  What do I do to keep the horses safe? I’ll take regular army, gray or blue, any day over this. At least she knew there was a garrison at Fort Scott. They’d have to swing west to miss that. Her mind made up, she strode on back to the general store and entered through two swinging doors, making her wonder if she’d found the saloon by mistake. A man in an apron nearly ran over her in his rush to get out the door.
/>   “You’ll have to come back later, boy. I ain’t missin’ the show.”

  “The show?”

  “You know. The hangin’.”

  “Oh, could you cut me some cheese first and maybe weigh out a pound of coffee? I got to be on my way. Some of those peppermint sticks too.”

  The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Cain’t it wait?”

  “Nope.”

  The man groaned and stomped his way back to the counter. The way he slapped the cheese on the scale told her of his resentment. But when she paid him with a gold piece, his scowl lightened. He shoved her packets across the counter and almost beat her to the door, flipping the CLOSED sign as he left.

  Jesselynn paused outside the store and studied those around her. Noticing a man who appeared content to stay where he was leaning against the railing of the store, she stopped beside him. “Mister, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure ‘nough, boy. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, my daddy sent me into town to ask about the best way to Independence. Ya see, we’s goin’ on west to Oregon.” Why’d you have to tell him all that?

  “Where’s your daddy now?”

  “Oh, camped some east of here. He’s ailin’, or he woulda come hisself.”

  “From what I hear, it takes a powerful lot of strength to go to Oregon.”

  “Ah, he’ll be on his feet again soon.” Jesselynn rammed her hands in her pockets and glanced up at the stranger from under her hat brim. “You been to Independence?”

  “Many times. If’n it were me, I’d take the road that runs north of town. Cut off a few miles thataway. Road’s good again now that the rain let up.”

  “Thankee, sir. I’ll tell my daddy what you said. We be grateful.” She started to back away.

  “Where you all from?”

  Just then a shout from the area of the platform snagged his attention and let Jesselynn slip away without answering. That was the way of folks, always asking questions. Ignoring the spectacle going on behind her, she made her way back to the mule.

  “Why are folks so confounded enamored with watchin’ some man die?” But asking Roman anything never had gotten her very far.

  Daniel was nowhere in sight.

  She checked out the church steeple. Sure enough, the sun had passed it some time earlier.

  I should just leave him, let him walk back to camp. As the minutes passed, the thought took on more possibilities. Besides, if she thought about leaving him, the fear that something had happened couldn’t take over.

  A shout went up from the crowd on the other side of the building. The deed must have been done. Her stomach rolled. People would be disbursing now. “Daniel, you good for nothing young pup, I could—”

  “Psst!”

  She looked around.

  “Psst. Over here, Marse Jesse.”

  She turned in time to see a dark brown hand beckoning from the other side of the alley and two doors down. She jerked the knot loose that bound the mule and, flinging herself on his back, had him moving before she sat upright. She slowed to a walk. Like a shadow Daniel leaped from his hiding place and had himself up behind her, scarcely touching her foot and extended hand.

  “Hey! Hey, you. Stop!”

  The shout propelled them into a canter, and within moments they were beyond accosting.

  “What on earth did you do this time?” Jesselynn wanted to turn and look into his eyes so he wouldn’t lie to her. Takes a liar to know a liar. The thought made her slap the reins on Roman’s shoulder.

  BLYTHEVILLE, MISSOURI

  “Who was that?”

  “I don’ know. Just ride.” The terror in his voice fueled her own fear. She kicked Roman to a dead-out gallop. The clatter of horses’ hooves sounded behind them. Was someone following them?

  No trees, nothing to lose them in. Nowhere to hide.

  “Turn off here,” Daniel yelled in her ear, the wind nearly snatching the words and flinging them back before she could hear. She pulled back on the reins, and Roman slowed quickly enough to send her up on his neck. When he turned, they fought to stay mounted, even though they felt as if they were at the wrong end of a catapult.

  “How far?”

  “Dat barn up ahead.”

  Ignoring the dog barking at their heels, they veered around behind the gable-roofed barn and plowed to a stop. Roman sounded like a bellows in full operation, and Jesselynn knew she sounded about the same.

  “What in heaven’s name was that all about?” While she tried to quiet her breathing so she could hear if they were still being followed, the growling dog did nothing to help.

  “Who’s that out there?” The bellow came from the direction of the house.

  The dog upped the volume, as if calling his master to come help.

  “Daniel!”

  “Some white man said I was with the man they done hanged.” Between his terror and the barking dog, Jesselynn wanted to clap her hands over her ears.

  “You were with what man? We just got to town.”

  “I knows dat, but he started comin’ after me, and dat’s when I hid under dat house to wait for you.”

  The dog raised the pitch on his bark.

  “Shaddup, you mangy cur.” The owner of the voice rolled around the corner of the barn, rifle at the ready across his broad chest and broader belly. He pointed the rifle at the two on the mule. “Well, let’s y’all jist get on down off’n that there mule and answer me some questions. Me ‘n the deputy, that is.”

  The man coming around the other side of the barn wore a shiny star on the lapel of his leather vest and a smile that sent shivers up and down Jesselynn’s back.

  “Now, boys, just ease on down to the ground so’s we can talk all friendly like.”

  “Where I come from, we don’t call pointin’ a rifle at a stranger very friendly.”

  “Well, now, you might if’n one of the strangers was wanted for murder.” The deputy used one finger to tip his felt hat farther back on his head.

  Jesselynn shook her head as she slid off the mule, shielding Daniel by taking a step forward right in front of him. “No way could Daniel here be wanted for murder. We just rode into town this afternoon, been on the road from Springfield for three days. We’re lookin’ for to find the best way to pick up the road to Independence.”

  “Now, boy, why in the world should I believe what you say? A man back in Blytheville says yer slave was with the man who shot poor ol’ Avery. Shot ‘im in cold blood, he did.”

  “I’m right sorry to hear that, but first of all, Daniel is not my slave but a freedman, and according to what I heard, the shooting happened over a week ago. We weren’t anywhere near here then.” Jesselynn made sure she sounded as Kentucky as possible and educated to boot. While she sounded as self-possessed as she was able to, her teeth had a heart-stopping desire to clack together. She hid her hands in her pockets to disguise their shaking.

  “Well, son, I think we’ll let the judge decide that.” The deputy strode forward and grabbed Daniel by the upper arm. “Come along, boy.”

  “No!” Jesselynn tried to step between them but got shoved out of the way for her efforts. When she reeled back against the mule’s shoulder, the dog growled and bumped her leg with his nose, teeth bared and hair raised along his back and shoulders. The urge to kick him made her foot twitch. “Call off your dog, mister, before I—”

  “Before you what?” The man’s voice rumbled with laughter.

  When Daniel hung back and sent her a terrified look over his shoulder, the deputy jerked him hard enough to make him stumble. For that he got a clout with the rifle stock.

  “Marse Jesse! Don’ let dem take me!”

  His cry nearly broke her heart. She started after the pair, but the dog grabbed hold of her pants leg, taking some skin with it.

  Jesselynn turned and gave the dog a vicious chop with the side of her hand, right on his nose. The dog yipped and let go. Ignoring the burning in her calf, she started after the deputy, wh
o was now tying a rope around Daniel’s chest, binding his arms straight down to his body.

  “Hold ‘im there, Jason.”

  The calm command brought the owner’s rifle to hand, and a bullet puffed the dirt a couple of feet in front of her.

  “He’s done nothing wrong. He wasn’t even here.” But talking did no good as the deputy shook out a few lengths of rope and mounted his horse.

  “Give me any more lip, and I drag ‘im to town. Take your pick.” He settled his hat down on his head and stared at Jesselynn.

  God, help us. What do I do now?

  “How ‘bout I ride into town with you and straighten this all out?” She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice.

  “Suit yourself. Perhaps the judge’ll want to talk to you too.” The veiled threat worked. Her mouth went dry as a creek bed in August.

  She swallowed and cleared her throat. “No more than I want to talk with him.” With a glare at the dog owner, she swung aboard Roman and followed the deputy around the barn and back out to the road. By now the sun had dipped appreciably lower, and all Jesselynn wanted to do was hightail it for their camp and get out of the area. But leaving Daniel was not even a thought. He would be with them when they hit the road north.

  Two men met them on the road and fell in beside the deputy. Daniel trotted to keep up with the trotting horses, but the men in front of him paid him no more attention than if he’d been a cow. In fact, less.

  Jesselynn brought Roman up beside Daniel. “Do you have your manumission papers?”

  He shook his head. “Back at de camp. Put de papers in Meshach’s Bible.”

  How many times had she told them they needed the papers on their person at all times? Slave traders wouldn’t let them go back to anywhere for their papers. But scolding him would do no good now. Most likely he’d been doing a good enough job of that himself.