Swept into Destiny

by Catherine Ulrich Brakefield

  In the days that followed, Maggie watched helplessly as the fever raged and did its foul work on her best friend’s body. Spasms and hallucinations plagued Irene, drawing her back into the realm when she’d delivered her baby. Her cries for water became pitiful sobs. Maggie pressed the cool water to the cracked lips, but Irene was beyond knowing, locked in the agonizing abyss between life and death.

  Will pushed opened the door, his large shoulders filling the doorway. In his arms, nestled Irene’s baby.

  “The fever’s playing tricks on her. She’s been mostly out of her mind, don’t expect much,” Maggie said.

  “Thought maybe seeing her daughter might help.” He beamed down at Little Irene. “Isn’t she beautiful?” His eyes soft and tearful, he walked to his wife’s side, knelt beside her bedside, and whispered, “My darling, here’s your daughter. She’s going to be as beautiful as her mother.”

  Maggie’s heart wept for them. She blinked away her tears as she looked at her friend and the small bundle wrapped in Will’s arms. His eyes met hers, his bottom lip quivered. “Is she?”

  Irene’s eyes fluttered open. Eyes that a short moment before had been glassy bright with fever looked up at him, now clear as a spring brook in April. Her lips formed his name.

  “My darling, look who I brought.” He held the baby close to her cheek. “Here’s Little Irene.”

  She caressed her daughter’s head. “My beautiful baby… Take care… my baby.” Her eye lids fluttered closed then opened with a start. “Don’t… blame… God,” she muttered. Her breath came in short gasps. Retching in pain, she placed a hand to her stomach.

  “I hear music,” she whispered. A peaceful smile crept across her parched lips. Her eyes wide, she followed the beam of the setting sun coming through the open window. “That garden’s beautiful. There’s Mama.” Irene half raised up out of bed. Will put out a supporting arm. Her body fell back—limp.

  “Irene, Irene.”

  Maggie took the small babe from within the crook of her father’s arm. Will buried his head in his wife’s soft hair and wept.

  Mr. Sturgis stood in the doorway. Unabashed tears covered his face and his lips quivered. Maggie went to console him, but he pushed her hand away. Waving her and the baby away, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

  Maggie blinked as sunlight streamed through the open doorway. She searched the landscape. Her thoughts were still hazy over the night before. Her father had come for them. Angry voices had wakened her shortly after midnight. Miss Ellis’ nasal sounds had been the loudest. Now at breakfast, Mr. Sturgis had not appeared.

  Maggie and her mother asked where he might be. Only then had come a hint of the explosion that erupted when Mr. Sturgis told Miss Ellis about Irene’s death.

  Miss Ellis stared at Maggie, then her parents, one side of her mouth parting across her teeth like a dog’s snarl. “Ain’t none of your business where my husband is. You just get before supper time and take that babe with you. Foolishness,” she muttered. “I just might commit the old fool.”

  “What? Where’s Sturgis?” Maggie’s father demanded.

  “He’s in one of the slave quarters, drunk as usual.”

  Maggie looked around. “Where’s Will?”

  “Up at the grave plot, I expect.”

  Mother’s eyes, steeped in worry, looked into hers. “Jesus is caring for Irene. It is our duty to care for the living. Go to him, Maggie. He might not want Irene to be buried here. Irene, like her children, is welcome at Spirit Wind.”

  Maggie nodded. In the distance she could see Will slumped beside a granite headstone. She prayed for the right words as she walked to his side.

  “What am I to do, Maggie, with a sick newborn and my five-year-old boy?”

  “Mother—”

  “I don’t want your charity. I want to know why God had to take my wife.” He nodded his head toward the slave quarters. “That’s what can happen to a man who marries out of grief.”

  “God has given us the Good Book to read and seek guidance from, not to whittle out half-truths and pick out of His words what we choose to accept and obey. Your father-in-law has made the Bible into his personal wish book. You can’t go against God’s laws and expect His blessings. He knew Miss Ellis wasn’t a Christian when he married her.”

  Will shrugged. “He thought he could change her. Only, she ended up changing him.”

  Maggie rested her hand on the crook of Will’s elbow. “God tells us in 2 Corinthians 6:14, ‘Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness?’”

  Will turned, his bloodshot eyes staring into hers, his wet cheeks reddened by the north wind. He moved his lips as if to say something, then turned away, looking at the slave quarters. “The truth always comes to the surface eventually. Well, I’d best get the hole dug.”

  “Mother wanted me to tell you that Irene is welcome at the Spirit Wind plot, that is, if you feel she would be happier there. Mother is looking forward to caring for Little Irene and Will Jr. Your children will fill the vacuum losing my brother to whooping cough and my sister to typhoid left. Father, well, he could use your help at Spirit Wind as head overseer. Reynolds has left our estate in an awful mess.”

  “He has?” Will straightened his shoulders. His large hands puckered into fists at his sides. “Well, then, I guess you’ve got yourself a new overseer.” He tossed the shovel down and grabbed her arm. “I never saw my wife happier than the day you and your mother showed up, and Will Jr. already loves you. Come on, let’s tell my father-in-law.”

  Sturgis sobbed and laid his cheek on the soft dust of the floor. “I’m the one that needs the help. Why are you leaving me and taking my daughter?”

  “If you’re in need of help, how can you possibly help your wife?” Maggie asked.

  His sobs subsided. His eyes narrowed into slits. “You’re no Christian. If you were, you’d show me some compassion. You’re nothing but a hypocrite and worse than my wife could ever be, passing judgment on a poor sinner. Who are you to judge? Get out.”

  Will had their horses hitched to the buckboard before Maggie finished packing Will Jr’s belongings. Maggie’s mother put Will’s boy on one side of her, then Miss Ellis pushed Little Irene into her arms and thrust a bottle of the precious goat’s milk from her claw-like fingers into Mother’s hands.

  “There,” she said, her scowling face contorting her features. “Now be gone with ya!”

  “Not until I’ve tied up this stubborn goat.” Her father and Will pushed the goat along, then tied him to the back of the wagon. “How much you want for the goat?”

  Miss Ellis rubbed her bony fingers together. “A hundred will do.”

  “That… a hundred? Why that scrawny goat’s not worth more than ten dol—”

  “Pay her, Mr. Gatlan.” Mother smiled back into Father’s irate eyes. Without another word, he reached in his pocket and slapped $100 worth of bills into the woman’s open palm and climbed in next to his wife. Maggie mounted her father’s horse.

  Will tipped the brim of his hat to his mother-in-law. “I’ll be over tomorrow for my wife’s body and the rest of my things.”

  As they made the last turn in the road toward Spirit Wind, a lone rider appeared on the horizon. “Who could that be?”

  They didn’t have long to find out.

  “Mr. Reynolds, what brings you this way?” Her father’s tone was cordial, but Maggie could feel his suppressed anger in the vibrating baritone of his words.

  Will moved his horse closer to hers, scowling back at Reynolds.

  “I’ve been at Spirit Wind, was coming to see your daughter.” A smirk spread across half of Reynold’s face, like a rabid animal. “What a pleasant surprise that I should find you here.” His gleeful chuckle sent an ominous warning to her heart. “I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else. Ben McConnell’s dead. Shot the scum myself.”

  Mag
gie gasped. Ben’s face flashed before her mind. She felt the coldness seeping like an icy wind through her body. Ben’s dead? No! She gulped, then met Reynolds’ gaze. She would not give him the satisfaction of becoming hysterical.

  Reynolds’ eyes darted from Maggie’s face to her mother’s. “Caught him delivering my slaves to the north.”

  “Were you able to get your slaves back?” Maggie’s father displayed only concern.

  “No. Unfortunately, I was too late. McConnell led us a merry chase. Making me believe he still had them.” He shrugged. “So I killed the wolf that raided my chicken coop.” Reynolds raised his hat in a manner that only could be interpreted as a victorious salute. “At least he won’t be raiding any more chicken coops. We don’t want another John Brown on our hands. Most likely if I had followed your instructions, Mr. Gatlan, that night I found Mrs. Gatlan at that Quaker cabin, I just might have outran him.”

  Her father cleared his throat. “Only stands to reason to keep on the main road. Shortest way to the north.”

  Reynolds rested his arm on the saddle and leaned forward, like a mountain cat ready to pounce. “Only it must have been an inside job, some abolitionist sympathizer. Well, I’ll find them, male or female.” His eyes rested on Maggie’s mother. Two cat eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “And prosecute them to the full extent of the law.” Reynolds pointed a finger in front of her mother’s face. “You just see if I don’t.”

  Her father jumped to his feet. “Are you suggesting—”

  “Please resume your seat, Mr. Gatlan. I have a baby to nurse back to health.” Her mother’s sweet smile wasn’t lost on anyone. “Good day to you, Mr. Reynolds.”

  They left him sitting on his horse watching their dust. Her mother kissed the sleeping babe on the forehead. Will Jr. grabbed her arm and hugged it.

  How dare Reynolds threaten Mother. She was the very heart and spirit of them. The epitome of God’s infinite love.

  Ben’s face flashed before her mind again. Her heart would forever lie with Ben.

  Chapter 17

  T he fire crackled in the old wrought iron stove and the teakettle whistled. Maggie chuckled, her eyes merry as she surveyed her room full of students. “Children, the teakettle whistles its best song when neck deep in hot water. Remember that when faced with adversity.” She smiled warmly at her newest student, Polly Toole. “Now, Ida, please stand and read John 3:16 to the class.”

  Thirteen-year-old Ida was exceptionally well dressed today. Her red and green plaid dress became the Christmas spirit. Her hair was done up with matching fabric, and stood out on either side of her head in stiff curly braids. “Now, don’t be shy, you have a beautiful voice and we all want to be able to hear you.”

  Ida stood up, turned, and peeked over her Bible, her eyes sparkling at Cain. That explains the reason for her picture-perfect appearance. “All right now, Ida?” Maggie glanced out the window at the frosty landscape. She couldn’t believe it; five more days would usher in 1860.

  Suddenly, the cabin door flew open and Eli stumbled inside, bent over, and gulped deep breaths of air. Maggie threw her body against the door, shutting out the wintery gale that swept away the warmth of the little room. She shuddered. Had the dreaded time arrived?

  “Mrs. Gatlan says to get to your owners right quick. Take to the woods and don’t look back. Those children belonging to Spirit Wind can stay put. Sheriff Pundy is on his way.” Eli sat down at one of the benches, his bulk too large for the small table. The children, prepared after many preliminary drills, ran and gathered their coats and hurried out the door. Maggie grabbed the remaining books and pencils as Eli told her the sordid details.

  “Mr. Reynolds bolted into the house earlier, knowing full well the master was gone. He pushed me aside and found Mrs. Gatlan reading Uncle Tom’s Cabin while rocking Little Irene to sleep. Told Mrs. Gatlan he was gettin’ the sheriff, that she’s—”

  “They’re in here!” Reynolds hateful voice penetrated the log cabin. A shiver ran up Maggie’s spine. She rested her hands in the folds of her skirts and waited.

  The wooden door of the cabin ricochet against the tongue-and-groove walls, then slapped Reynolds in the face. He thrust the door aside, pulling Ida along by her pigtails.

  He shoved the child onto the floor and laid his dirty boot on her stomach. “Now you tell me why you are here? I don’t want to hear one of your lies, tell me the truth or I’ll whip you within an ounce of your life. I swear!”

  Maggie cupped her hands into fists. Ida was so proud of her appearance. Maggie shook with rage and in her authoritative voice said, “You are on private property. Get out, now!”

  Reynolds removed his boot and stomped toward her. His face as red as the devil’s horns, he hurtled a fist in her face, stopping short an inch from her nose. “I’m going to own Spirit Wind someday, you just see if I don’t. I’m going to put your Indian mother down on the reservation where she belongs and you—”

  “Me? I’d like to see you try and do something to me.” She locked her fists by her side for fear she’d use them on his worthless face. Nothing in life mattered now that Ben was gone, and this man killed him! “How dare you threaten my mother and me. There is no law against me doing what I like with my slaves, if I want to educate them so what?”

  “It’s illegal to educate slaves and besides that, you’re educating others too. Don’t deny it. Look at her.”

  “Ida came to visit us. Can you prove otherwise?”

  “I’ll beat the truth out of her!”

  “The countryside already knows of your bullying tactics. I will merely state the obvious. That you had beaten this poor girl to submit to your whims.”

  Reynolds banged his fist on one of the desks. Ida cried, rolling over and covering her face. Maggie bit her lip. If she appeared weak before Reynolds, all would be lost. She had to make him think he couldn’t achieve anything by beating Ida.

  Sounds of horses snorting and hooves flying through the woods now swarmed the Glenn. She looked at Eli. Both knew her secret was over.

  “What’s all this about?” Sheriff Pundy said.

  “I found Mrs. Gatlan reading this.” Reynolds withdrew the book like it was a saber.

  The sheriff looked down at the title and read, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin , say I heard about this book, heard it was a passel of lies.”

  Maggie stepped forward. “Wouldn’t you like to read it for yourself and find out about the lies?”

  Sheriff Pundy looked up. “May I?”

  Reynolds pounded the desk. “No! This is banned in the South, didn’t you know that?”

  “Reynolds, calm down. What else have you got on the Gatlans besides a book? I don’t see how this proves they’re doing abolitionist activities.”

  Reynolds, his face a combination of red from the cold north wind and his hot temper, banged his big fist down on the desk again. “Look around, sheriff, this school has enough desks in it to teach all the slaves in Bount County. Here’s one for proof.” He bent over and pulled Ida to her feet by her pig tails.

  Ida whimpered, but didn’t cry out. Reynolds pointed a finger at Maggie. “Besides this, she and her mother are part of the Underground Railroad. They helped three of my slaves to escape. Actually, it was three and one half; Susie was pregnant! I demand you arrest them.”

  The sheriff examined the book closely. “I don’t see how a book can hurt you by reading it.”

  “That’s how the abolitionist movement got started.” Reynolds walked closer, towering over the five-foot-eight man. Reynolds’ stature was intimidating and he knew it.

  The sheriff tossed the book on a desk, then walked up and down the aisles. His boots thumped like a war drum. Pundy was known throughout the county for his fair play—that is to say, unless he felt bullied.

  “ Uncle Tom’s Cabin , the school, and now your runaway slaves, when you put it all together, guess I have no choice.” Pundy turned, his eyes softening. “Maggie, your father’s not going to like this. I’ll let you gather up
some of your things before I take you and your mother to jail.”

  A large shadow loomed over her. Eli now stood in front of her. She couldn’t see beyond his back, but by the tone of his deep voice it was clear his face was set in stone. “No one is takin’ Mrs. Gatlan or Miss Maggie to jail. Not until the master comes home, Sheriff Pundy, sir.”

  Sheriff Pundy knew of her father’s temper and authority throughout the county. He cleared his throat. “Well, I see no reason not to wait until Mr. Gatlan returns home.”

  In the days that followed, Mother bought Eli a ticket on the railroad so he could race to Illinois and overtake Father with the news. Then Mother bought Ida from Reynolds for an exorbitant price to take care of Little Irene and Will Jr., but mostly to keep Ida away from the ill-tempered Reynolds.

  Will McGuire rode across the countryside to gather supporters in a petition to not jail the Gatlan women. Generally, the neighbors didn’t want to get involved. So Maggie, fearing a jail term, set to work to make sure anyone who wanted to continue with their education, could homeschool themselves. They had been taught the basic reading, writing, and arithmetic. Now it was up to them to continue to practice it. Just before her father was due home, Maggie took one last ride to the Glenn.

  The cabin looked as forlorn as she felt. An empty cavity filled her heart, where once her mission and her love for Ben had resided. She could only imagine what anguish he had gone through.

  He would never work his land and she would never teach again. Never again. She knelt and rubbed her hands across the trap door, the way Ben had. What would it have been like to belong to that tall, merry-eyed Irishman who was as fierce looking as a pirate, but had a heart as big as that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow Ben’s dad always talked about?