“Damn! They’re getting away!”
“Get back here if you know what’s good for you!”
“You’re making things worse for yourself!”
Their voices became fainter. There was silence, then a blast of firearms. Gunshots danced on the surface, but far behind them.
“Get down!” Eldon’s warning was unnecessary. Cleo lay on top of Gabriel.
Flower turned to look at her father and Samuel, but only their fingers were visible, clinging to the edge. She could hear their labored breathing. “Pa,” she said. He didn’t answer.
The gunfire stopped. The sound of barking dogs grew fainter. Cleo raised her head. “The far shore—we’re almost there! Husband, take heart! We’re almost there.”
Samuel said, “Thank heavens.” Water poured into his mouth, and he started to choke and spit.
Eldon tried to touch bottom but it was still too deep. “Keep going,” he said.
Cleo and Flower clung to the wet logs, touched their foreheads together with relief.
No one saw the rock. The sudden force of the impact shattered the raft into pieces. Flower didn’t have time to cry out. She flew up into the air, then into icy blackness, her mouth and nose filling with water. Her skirt billowed about her, clinging to her legs, weighing her down. Instinctively, she thrashed her arms and legs and tried to bring her face to the surface, but it was too hard. She began to sink.
CHAPTER 12
Felicia
AFTER SUPPER, Felicia sat at the kitchen table with her mother and grandmother, the unwashed dishes still at their elbows. Earlier in the day, Florence had made a batch of chili sauce, and the air was fragrant with the sweet aroma of brown sugar, vinegar, and tomatoes. The filled jars sat glowing on the counter.
“The sauce smells delicious, Mom,” said Delia. “Looks good too. Are you worn out now?”
“No. Just my knee is a little stiff from all that standing.”
“Felicia, you can do the dishes for your grandmother.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Excuse me?” Delia raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, you do,” said Florence, “and I thank you. Myself, I’ve spent many a day doing chores, with hardly a ‘thank you’ that I can remember.” She turned to her daughter and asked, “How’s the new job going?”
“Pretty good. Mr. Abbot says he appreciates my ‘organizational skills.’”
“You’ve always been a neat and organized person,” Florence said.
“Almost anal,” said Felicia.
“What! Where does she get these words?”
“Everybody knows what ‘anal’ means, Mom.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means sometimes you can be too neat and organized, maybe a little obsessive.”
“I am not obsessive.”
“Felicia, you should always be polite to your elders. That never goes out of style. Now tell us about your day,” said Florence.
“It was okay. I went to the saddle club after school and watched my friends ride.” Felicia felt odd using the term “friends.” Were they really her friends, or were they just being nice? “They want me to ride, too.”
“Did you tell them we are working people, not part of the horsey set?”
“Mom, we didn’t discuss family finances.”
“Don’t be such a sassy little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl, and you’re the one who asked if I told them about how much money we have.”
Florence said, “Maybe there is a good sports program at your school.”
The telephone rang, interrupting their discussion. It was Dodie.
“Felicia, what homework do we have? I left my notes at school.”
“Math.” Felicia reached behind her chair and opened her backpack. “Just a sec…it’s chapter three, page twenty-five, exercises one through seven. Have you got your book?”
“Ugh! No!”
“I’ll read them to you.”
“That would save my life. Peabody will target me tomorrow for sure.”
After Felicia had finished dictating the assignment, Dodie asked, “What did you think of the barn?”
“It was okay. Is Francine mean to you?”
“No. She’s cool. She just yells so we can hear her. It’s noisy in the arena.”
“Do the horses bite you sometimes?”
“They can bite each other. Cecil is really gentle. He’s my sweetie. I’ve been riding him for three years.”
“Are there any teams at the school?”
“The boy’s hockey team, and the girls’ volleyball team, and then there’s gym. And if you have an outside sport, like swimming or tennis or riding, you get extra credit.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Also, with riding, there’s a special rider’s program, and if you help with that, then it gives you better marks in social studies.”
“I don’t think I could afford a horse.”
“You don’t have to buy one. Francine has school horses. That’s what we do. There are also secondhand clothes at the tack shop—boots and riding pants. Plus you’ll need a helmet, of course.”
“I thought you each had your own horse.”
“We wish.”
Felicia decided to present this proposal to her mother, but Delia listened with barely contained impatience. “I told you before. We’re not the type of people to be riding horses.”
“What type is that, Mom?”
“You know what I mean!”
“No, I don’t.”
Delia sighed and looked at her own mother.
Florence said, “Felicia, be courteous to your mother. She just wants what’s best for you. Now tell us about these girls. They’re your new friends, and they like to ride…”
“Yes.”
“And they’ve asked you to ride with them?”
“Yes.”
“Has anyone else invited you to join them in doing something?”
“No.” Felicia looked down at her plate.
“Not yet,” said Delia.
“Is this riding safe?”
“Yes. The horses are gentle, and we’re in an arena with a teacher.”
Florence paused to sip her tea. “How much does it cost?”
Felicia responded, and the amount seemed to sit suspended in the air as her mother and grandmother stared into space.
Delia sat with her chin resting on her right hand and said nothing. Florence had another sip of tea. Her swallow was audible in the silence of the kitchen.
“Please, Mom.”
Delia folded her hands together. “I guess I’m going to have to come to this place and see it for myself.”
At the end of their conversation, Felicia sat trying to imagine riding a horse. She wondered if Dodie might share Cecil with her, since he was so gentle. But then they couldn’t ride together. The clatter of dishes intruded on her thoughts.
Delia was standing at the sink. “Hey, Mom, I’ll help!” Felicia opened a drawer and lifted out a towel. “Where’s Nana?”
“Watching television.”
“Her favorite thing to do.”
“One of them.”
“Do you miss your friends, Mom?”
“Oh sure, but I think our move will work out. We’ll keep our old friends and make some new ones, and it’s nice to be able to afford to rent a house rather than an apartment. Don’t you think?”
“
I guess.”
“Your grandmother loves having a garden.” As she talked, Delia scrubbed the counter from one end to the other. Then she squeezed water out of the dishrag, folded it into a wet rectangle, and placed it on the edge of the sink. Her daughter watched this activity and said, “You’re doing a good job—really neat and well organized.”
Delia flicked a bubble of soap at her daughter before drying her hands.
CHAPTER 13
Flower
FLOWER FELT a strong hand grab her hair and yank her to the surface. She gasped for air. Samuel held on to a log and pushed Flower against it. They floated this way briefly, and then Samuel said, “Kick your feet.”
Their efforts were feeble; they kicked as silently as they could, without splashing, but with enough strength to move them slowly toward the Ohio shore. When Samuel’s feet touched bottom, he tried to wade in and fell twice. Flower stumbled along with him. They crawled the final few yards, then flopped onto dry land. Flower lay face down on the dirt and stones and vomited the river water out of her body, the sour fluid scalding her throat.
Panic overrode her exhaustion. “Pa! Ma!” She pushed herself up on her elbow, wailing their names into the empty air.
“Hush! We don’t know who might hear us!”
Flower lay back down on her side and cried like an infant. “I want my Ma and Pa, and my baby brother.”
“We’ll look for them.” Samuel was short of breath. “In a moment we’ll search.”
When they felt strong enough to stand, Samuel led the way into a grove of trees. He said to Flower, “Stay here and don’t move.” Then he returned to where they had come ashore and, with a leafy branch, brushed away the evidence of their footprints.
Flower watched from her hiding place in the trees. When he came back, she asked, “Aren’t we safe here?”
“Don’t know.”
There was no sign of her family. The only sounds were the rushing of the water and the cries of birds overhead. Flower began to shiver in her soaking wet clothing, her mind a storm of distress. Was she alone in the world now? There had been children without parents back at the plantation. They were fed and housed, but when they needed comfort or affection, did they get much? Some of the women, especially her mother and Aunty Lizzie, had been kind, but that wasn’t nearly enough. Flower remembered the unattended runny noses, coughs, and cries in the night. Her shivers became spasms of fear.
Samuel looked down at his young charge and rubbed her back. “We must keep moving.” He looked in both directions. “But which way?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m doing the best I can. What do you know?”
“My Pa would know.” Flower didn’t want to be with Samuel but stumbled after him. Though he had saved her life, the memory of their first meeting remained vivid—how he had grabbed her, thrown her to the ground, shouted at her. If she displeased him, would he behave like that again?
Samuel stopped and looked about. “We’re walking in the wrong direction, heading back against the river flow. We should be going with it. Turn around. The others should be here somewhere.”
Flower couldn’t stop her dark thoughts. Unless they’re still in the water…
“Papa,” she called out softly.
“Hush, I tell you!”
Flower began to cry. “Papa…I want my Papa!”
Samuel wheeled around, grabbed her by the shoulders, and began to shake her.
“Stay quiet when I tell you to!”
Flower wept through chattering teeth. “Papa!”
“Flower?”
They stood quiet for a brief moment. Flower answered, “Pa?”
“Flower! Stay where you are, daughter! I’ll find you!”
They could hear movement through the trees. Ignoring Eldon’s command, they moved forward to meet him. Flower threw herself against her father, and he held her gratefully.
Flower was afraid to ask. “Ma?”
“She’s safely hidden, with the babe. Come, follow me.”
Eldon led them to a sheltered spot, deep within a thicket of bushes and evergreens. Cleo sat with her back against a tree. She jumped up and rocked her daughter in her arms. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“We’re all together now. I think we should go further inland,” said Eldon, “away from the river.”
“We’re so tired,” protested Cleo. “We’ve had no sleep.”
“Safe. We must be safe,” said Eldon. “We’ll find a safe spot and build a fire to warm us. Then sleep will be sweet.”
They walked for hours, stopping only once when Flower dropped to the ground with exhaustion. She fell asleep instantly, came awake when she felt her father lift her close to the warmth of a small fire. They huddled around it and tried to ignore their hunger.
CHAPTER 14
Felicia
AS THE GIRLS walked together to the barn, Renate asked, “What do you all think of joining the drama club?”
“What for?” asked Dodie.
“For fun, that’s what for!”
“Fun for you,” said Sophie. “I’m too shy to be in a play, with everyone looking at me.”
“But being in a play might be good for your shyness,” suggested Felicia. “You’d get to be more confident.”
“Maybe there’ll be a musical like Grease or something and we could get singing parts.” Renate remained enthused. “Besides, Josh and Matt want us to join. Josh is writing a play. He told me he wants us to be in it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“And Matthew is so funny.”
“He is?” asked Felicia, who had never talked to him.
“Hilarious.”
“Anyway, there’s a drama club meeting tomorrow. I think we should go.”
“Let’s put on a show…” Dodie started to sing. The others joined in as they made a melodic entrance to the barn.
Delia had left work early as planned so that she could join Felicia at the saddle club. When she arrived, she stood with Felicia at the end of the arena and watched the riding class. Felicia looked over her shoulder twice, willing Ashley and Cynthia not to appear. More mean comments from them would surely ruin any plans for riding. Delia would be confirmed in her notion that she and her daughter didn’t belong to the “horsey set.”
At the end of the lesson, Francine came directly over to the two of them and shook Delia’s hand. “Welcome to Green Hills.” Francine led Delia on a tour, showing with pride the tack room, feed room, and her small office at one end of the building. They returned to the students who were brushing their horses. Dodie’s mount raised his tail and deposited a steaming mound on the concrete floor.
“We keep a clean barn. That’s meant for the manure pile.” Francine lifted a bedding fork off a hook and transferred the future fertilizer to a wheelbarrow. Dodie swept the floor clean. “I hope Felicia can join the group,” said Francine. “I have the perfect horse for her.”
“Which one?” asked Dodie.
“Give me a minute. I’ll show you.” Francine slid open a stall door at the far end of the barn and led a horse toward them. “Isn’t she precious? I’ve been working with her for a few weeks.”
“Can I ride her?” asked Renate.
“You have Calvin to ride.” Francine turned to Felicia and Delia. “Come and say hello.”
Delia raised her hands and shook her head, but Felicia stepped forward and gently touched the horse’s face.
“Where did she come from?” asked Renate.
“How old is she?”
Francine clip
ped cross ties to the halter, removed the lead rope, and said, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She returned with a photo showing a sorry looking, emaciated horse, its head hanging, every rib and both hipbones painfully evident.
Even Delia was amazed. “This can’t be the same animal!”
“Yes, it is. I found her at a sale, rescued her from a farm that had been impounded by the courts. A number of horses were there in terrible condition, so neglected. Some were immediately put down.”
“How could anyone be so mean?” asked Sophie.
“It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? But she’s come along nicely. I’ve been training her, and she’s wonderful, a real treasure.”
Felicia looked into soft, brown eyes, and it seemed the horse returned her gaze. “What’s her name?”
“I’m calling her Morning Star because of the star shape on her forehead. And when I went to bring her home—it was early in the morning—I could still see the moon, very faintly, and a large, bright star in the sky beside it.”
CHAPTER 15
Flower
THERE WAS no sound to warn them, only the sense that they were no longer alone. Flower heard her mother’s soft moan of fear, opened her eyes, and saw a tall man looking down at them. He was dressed entirely in black, with a black hat on his head. Beneath the brim, his pale face was lean and craggy, the light from the fire deepening the shadows beneath his eyes.
Her father managed only one word—“Mercy.”
The stranger stepped forward, moving into the firelight. “Yes, ’tis God’s mercy—he has delivered you safely to me.” He noted the condition of the group assembled at his feet, their sodden clothes and shivering bodies. “Did Jonah’s craft sink, take on water?”
“We met no Jonah. We made our own raft. It hit a rock and broke apart.”
“Can you walk?”
They struggled to their feet.
The stranger told them he was Noah Pemberton, a Quaker and a friend. He led them up a stony incline and through a field to a narrow frame house, light spilling out from an open doorway. A woman holding a lamp stood on the threshold. She, too, was dressed in black, with a small cap on her head concealing her hair. Her face had the same sharp angles as the man’s, but it was smaller, more birdlike.
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