“Aahhh, you t–trying to k–kill me?” the man cried in a hoarse voice. Fast as lightning, his left hand snaked out, grabbing her upper arm. He pushed her body off his.
Hannah screamed. She struggled to free her arm, but the man’s rock-hard grasp didn’t yield. The strength in his bruised body amazed her. She cast a glance at the ax handle, which lay just out of reach.
Swallowing with difficulty, she found her voice and stopped struggling. “You’d b–better let me go, if you know what’s good for you.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt. Could the stranger hear her pounding heart, racing like a ship in a stiff wind?
The man stared at her, his dark eyebrows furrowed into a single brow. With short, choppy breaths, he fought for air. Hannah squirmed against his hold as he watched her with his open eye.
Why hadn’t she thought about him possibly having broken ribs? Knowing she caused him such discomfort when she fell on him concerned her nearly as much as the fact that he still held her captive.
After a moment, his tense expression eased, and he relaxed. She caught herself licking her lips as she watched him try to wet his dry, cracked lips with his tongue.
“W–water,” he croaked as he released her.
Hannah rubbed her aching arm. She doubted the man meant to hurt her, but she would carry the bruises he’d surely inflicted for a long while. As her fear ebbed, she eyed the man with growing compassion. He must be in terrible pain. She stood, looking for the bucket of water Israel generally kept handy.
“Don’t go. I w–won’t hurt you. Need water, p–please.” He reached toward the bandage on his forehead with his filthy hand.
Hannah grabbed his arm and pulled it back down. “Don’t touch that. I put a bandage on your head wound. Just hold on a bit, and I’ll be back shortly with some water.”
She located the bucket in the corner and carried the dipper back to the stranger. He attempted to push up on one elbow but then sucked in a sudden gasp as pain etched his face. He pressed his hand to his side.
“Here, let me help you.” Taking care not to spill the water, Hannah stooped down and slipped her hand behind his head, lifting it just enough that he could slurp up the water.
He grunted and laid his head down. His lips tightened into a thin white line, and he scrunched his eyes shut. “Who are y–you?”
“My name is Hannah Madison, and my family lives on the neighboring plantation, just over a mile away. Who are you, and what are you doing here, might I ask?”
The man stared up at her with a dazed look. He pressed his fingertips against the uninjured side of his brow. “I—I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
He squeezed his forehead. Pain and confusion engulfed his battered face. “Don’t know how I got here. Can’t remember.”
Three
Hannah stepped back and narrowed her eyes. Could he be telling the truth? Perhaps he was a thief hiding from pursuers. Or a servant who’d suffered a beating at the hand of the man he worked for and then run away. But his confusion didn’t look faked.
A Bible story her mother had once read during evening devotions blazed across her mind like a wildfire. The Good Samaritan helped the wounded man on the side of the road. Hannah had few opportunities to help others outside of those living on her family’s plantation. This was her chance to put those biblical truths into action.
“Do you know where you are?”
The man looked around again. For the first time, a hint of a smile tugged at his puffy lips. “Looks rather a lot like a barn, best I can tell with one eye.” Then the smile disappeared, and a scowl replaced it. Glancing down, he grabbed a wad of hay off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Daft, is it not? A grown man who doesn’t even know where he is.”
“I’m sure it will all come back to you. It looks as if you took a hard blow to the head, and I’ve heard that can cause a person to be disoriented.”
He stared at her a brief moment, then turned his face away. The man’s helplessness and confusion obviously embarrassed him. His calloused hands and muscular frame proved he was a man accustomed to taking care of himself. What could have happened to him?
“Shhh. Don’t fret,” she whispered, hoping to reassure him. “I need to get some help, then get you inside the house and clean up your injuries. There’s dirt and pieces of hay in your wounds. You might even need some suturing to close up that nasty gash on your head.”
He looked at her again. “I don’t fret.”
Hannah’s lips twitched. Men and their need to appear strong. Her father and brother acted the same. “Ah, my mistake. But at least you remembered that.” She stood and stepped back. “A big, strong man like you doesn’t need any help, right?”
“That’s not what I said.”
She spun around. He may not want her help, but he needed it. And she needed to find Israel.
“Wait! You’re not leaving me here, are you?” he whispered.
Remorse twisted in her stomach at causing him distress. She shouldn’t have poked fun at him. She faced him again. “Tell me, what’s your name?”
The man pressed on the bandage covering his right brow and gazed up at her with his uninjured eye. Hannah’s heart lurched at the panic and vulnerability in his expression. His hoarse whisper broke the silence. “I—I can’t remember.”
“You can’t remember your own name?” She reached out to comfort him.
He shook his head. Utter despair encompassed his battered face.
❧
“I declare, you have all the luck. Imagine finding such a finely built man in a barn.” Ruthie stamped her foot and crossed her arms. “Why couldn’t this have happened when I first arrived instead of the day before I return home?”
Hannah and Ruthie stood outside the closed bedroom door while Israel and Chesny washed the stranger and helped him into an old nightshirt that had belonged to Mr. Reed. They had wrapped his chest before moving him, but even with help, the long walk from the barn had exhausted the man.
“Who do you suppose he is?”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. He can’t remember his name or how he got to the barn.”
Ruthie’s hazel eyes widened, and she clapped her hands. “I do love a good mystery.” She tapped her index finger on her lips. “Perhaps he’s the son of a king, traveling to meet his princess and was attacked and the treasure stolen.” She gasped. “Oh, what if the ruffians kidnapped the princess?”
Hannah smiled and shook her head. “That’s some imagination you have.”
“Ooo, no, what if he is the kidnapper and has hidden away the princess for a ransom? Why, she could be locked away somewhere all alone.”
Hannah sighed. “Or perhaps he’s just a man traveling on business.”
“Then how did he get all beat up?”
The door opened, and they both stepped back. Hannah’s gaze shot past Chesny to the stranger. “How is he?”
She shook her head. “Not so good. Someone done beat him up real bad.”
“You just have them wimmenfolk fetch me if’n you needs anythin’.” Israel told the stranger; then he backed away from the bed.
When Israel stepped out of the room, Hannah motioned him to follow, and she walked the short hall to the upstairs sitting room. She glanced at Chesny and Israel. “Have either of you seen that man before?”
Israel shook his head. “No, Miz Hannah. I never did.”
Chesny didn’t respond for a moment. “I thought maybe there was somethin’ familiar about that boy, but I dunno. He just too busted up to tell.”
Hannah glanced back toward the stranger’s door where Ruthie stood, peering in. Perhaps in the better light of the house she might recognize the man, although he hadn’t seemed at all familiar before.
Maisy plodded up the stairs, carrying a cream-colored pitcher with blue flowers on it. “Where y’all want this here water?”
Hannah pointed the way. “Maisy, did you find any bandages?”
“No, Miz Hannah, but
Leta, she be lookin’ in some other places.”
Hannah nodded. “All right. Bring them up as soon as you locate them—and some medicinal salve, if you have any.”
“Yes’m.” Maisy disappeared into the bedroom.
“Chesny, would you please set some water to boil and see if there’s any fresh meat we can stew to make some broth?”
“I can go an’ catch a chick’n,” Israel offered.
Hannah nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you.” She spun around to head into the bedroom when a hand on her arm stopped her.
“Just where you be goin’, Miz Hannah?” Chesny stared at her with brows lifted.
“Why, to doctor my patient, of course.”
“I’ll help her,” Ruthie added.
“Un-uh, t’ain’t proper.” Shaking her head, Chesny shoved her hands to her hips.
Hannah lifted her chin. “And why not? Mama often doctors our family and workers who get hurt. It’s one of the duties of the plantation’s mistress.”
“You ain’t the mistress of this house yet, and besides, yo’ mama, she be a married woman.”
Hannah blushed, wondering just what Chesny thought she would do. “There’s nothing improper about it. The man is completely covered with a nightshirt and a sheet. You and Israel have taken care of his ribs. I just plan to tend the wounds on his face.”
“And I’m going to help her,” Ruthie stated again, as if no one had heard her before. She crossed the hall and stood beside Hannah and joined her in staring at Chesny.
The older woman shook her head and trod toward the stairs. “It just ain’t right, if’n you asks me, but them girls, they ain’t askin’. They’s just tellin’.”
Israel nodded and followed Hannah’s maid down the stairs.
Ruthie leaned toward her and grinned. “You told her. I didn’t think you had it in you.” She sashayed toward the bedroom door with the long skirt of her high-waisted gown flowing behind her.
Chesny stopped on the stairs, and Israel almost smacked into her. She glanced back at Hannah. “I’m’a goin’ to the kitchen like you done asked, but then I’m’a comin’ back to that man’s room. It just ain’t proper fo’ two wimmen to be alone with him.”
Hannah wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but she didn’t like upsetting Chesny. She rarely butted heads with the older woman, who had been her nanny since she was a young girl but now was more of a friend and confidante. It was an odd relationship for the daughter of a plantation owner and a black servant, but she didn’t want it to be any other way. She’d grown up despising slavery. Her family and the Reeds were among the few plantation owners who paid their Negro workers a wage. They were employees, not slaves. She just had to overlook Chesny’s bossiness at times. The woman was only watching out for her.
❧
A pretty lady strolled into the room—no, not a lady, but rather an adolescent not more than fifteen or sixteen, he’d guess. He looked past her, hoping the other woman would return—the one who’d found him in the barn.
The girl looked at him and grimaced. She twisted her lips, then spun away and busied herself with opening a window. He sighed and turned his face toward the wall. What must he look like to repulse her so?
From the waist up, every part of him ached. He could only take slow and shallow breaths or risk stabbing pains in his side. His head pounded, and his face felt like mush. What had happened to him?
Why couldn’t he remember anything further back than awakening in that barn? Who was he? Where had he come from?
He clenched a wad of the fresh-smelling sheet in his hand. Efforts to remember only brought sharp pains to his head. Perhaps the woman—Hannah Madison—was correct. Time would heal him. He had to believe that. He couldn’t live in this fog forever.
A gentle touch on the top of his hand drew his gaze. Ah, Miss Madison—or perhaps it was Mrs. Madison—had returned.
“Are you in pain?”
He shook his head, then grimaced. Vision blurred, and his head felt as if a horse had sat on it.
She patted his hand. “Try to relax and rest. I’m going to clean up your wounds; then we’ll leave you alone so you can sleep. Later, we’ll have some broth for you.”
“Broth—that’s a weak soup, is it not?”
She nodded.
“Why is it I can remember something as trivial as broth but not more important issues like who I am?” He hated the confusion fogging his mind and this feeling of helplessness. He couldn’t even sit up without assistance.
“It is an odd thing, but I trust that God will restore your health and your memories.”
God. He hadn’t thought about God since coming to. He laid his head back and stared out the window at the soft blue sky, not all that certain what he believed about the Creator. Perhaps God would be merciful and do as the kind woman said and restore him.
Unless, of course, God was punishing him for some horrible deed he had done.
Four
Hannah moistened the cloth, then gently wiped the dried blood from the stranger’s face. She removed the bandage from the wound above his eye, examined the injury, then laid her hand on the man’s forearm. “This might hurt a bit.”
He breathed out a slow sigh, then nodded.
Hannah worked carefully, dampening the wounded area. After a few moments, the blood softened, and she pulled a lock of dark hair out of the gash on the stranger’s eyebrow.
“Owww! Take it easy!” The man grabbed her wrist again. Hannah stared down at him with her brows lifted, and he quickly released her.
“I’m sorry that hurt. Just hold still a bit longer and I’ll be finished.” She remoistened the cloth. With one hand, she held the man’s stubbly chin, and with the other, she carefully wiped the remaining blood off his nose and lips.
She glanced up and discovered his intense gaze on her face, mere inches away from his. His good eye—a grayish blue—studied her, and his warm breath tickled her cheek. The intensity in his stare made her hand shake. She straightened, keeping her features composed. Tearing her gaze away from his, she focused on cleaning his lips. They’d be nice lips when they healed.
Hannah sucked in a gasp. Where in the world had that thought come from? It was hardly a decent thought for a woman preparing to be married.
Ruthie stepped away from the window across the room. “How can you stand to do such a menial, disgusting task? Why not let your Negro do it?”
How could Ruthie be so insensitive? “I’m merely offering Christian charity by tending this man’s wounds. Would you have me ignore his pain because the task is unpleasant?”
“I would have you back at your house sipping tea in the parlor if it was up to me. I’m going downstairs. It stinks in here.”
Stunned, Hannah watched her friend flounce from the room. Ruthie was immature, but she’d never known her to be so cruel and uncaring, except where slaves were concerned—and that strong opinion had been expertly cultivated by her outspoken father. Hannah had worked hard to get her friend to see Negroes as real people with emotions, but Ruthie only thought of them as property. Such a sad thing for people to be so heartless where others were concerned.
Something brushed the back of Hannah’s hand, and she glanced down. The man’s fingers were just inches from hers.
“Could I have some more water, please?”
“Certainly.” Hannah poured fresh water from the pitcher into a glass Maisy had brought up earlier. He lifted his head and rested his palm against the back of her hand, warming it. Hannah’s heart thumped hard as she stared at his hand on hers. Finally, he lay back.
“I need to know what happened to me.”
“Can you remember anything about that? Did you take a fall off your horse, or perhaps you met up with some scoundrels who robbed and beat you?”
“No. . .uh, I don’t know—” He coughed and grabbed his chest.
“Shh, there now,” she said, patting his shoulder. “We can talk about this later. Right now, you need to rest.”
She started to walk away, but the stranger reached out and grabbed her wrist. He groaned from the effort. “I’m not always this helpless.”
“I’m sure you aren’t.” She glanced at his wide shoulders and strong hands, then pulled her gaze away from her shameless study. Her cheeks warmed. “Get some sleep now, and we’ll figure out everything else later. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I remember when one of our workers found two white men stealing from our barn. The thieves attacked Jasper when he tried to stop them. One man hit him in the head with a shovel and left him for dead. His head had been badly injured, and I thought for sure he would die. For weeks, he didn’t know a single one of us, not even his wife and children.”
“That would be rough. I don’t think I have children.” He gazed up at the ceiling as if thinking deeply. “Surely I’d remember if I did.”
“I would hope so. You’ll be encouraged to know our worker’s memory came back after a few weeks. Yours will, too, I would imagine. Just give it some time. In the meantime, you can stay here, and we’ll take good care of you until you’re up and about again.”
“Thank you. I do appreciate your kindness.”
Hannah smiled and nodded, then backed away. Already he’d closed his eyes and looked more relaxed. She turned and came to a halt when she saw Chesny standing just inside the door.
“I done brung up them bandages and the salve. Maisy and Leta are fixin’ to pluck that chick’n Israel done killed. They’ll make chick’n soup that we’all kin eat.”
Secrets of the Heart Page 2
