Daughter of Twin Oaks (12 page)

She pulled her coat more tightly around her. Clouds hung low and smelled like rain. Lightning splintered the sky off to the north. This promised to be a bad night if the clouds had anything to say about it.

It wasn’t long after full dark that the clouds gave up and released their burden on the travelers below. Within minutes, Jesselynn’s wool coat smelled wet and rain dripped from her hat brim down her neck. She turtled herself as much as possible, but the wind first nipped at her hat, then turned to tearing at it and shaking her furiously, like a dog shaking himself off. The frigid drops blew into her face, and when she tucked it into her coat, they ran down the back of her neck.

“Tain’t fit fo’ man nor beast,” Meshach declared when Jesselynn trotted alongside the wagon. Already puddles disguised the road in a muddy stream when they climbed a rise and slid down the other slippery side. He set the brake some to keep the wagon from running over the horses and hushed Ophelia when she squealed at a slip.

They climbed another grade and were back on a westering ridge. At least she hoped it was westering. She couldn’t even see Ahab’s ears, let alone far enough ahead to get an idea where they were going.

The longer the rain persisted, the more she longed for home. So her father had made her promise. They gave it a good try. How would he know if they turned around, anyway? She shook her head, her hat flopping about her ears. Maybe this was God’s punishment for leaving home. Surely they’d been on the road long enough for dawn to be coming soon.

Ahab snorted and, arching his neck, whinnied before she realized what he was doing. “No!” She tightened the reins in retaliation for being jerked from her somnolence. The horse sidestepped, his entire body at attention. Something was coming toward them.

She reined Ahab to the side of the road under the overhanging trees, praying that Meshach was doing the same. She could hear a harness jingling, and when that fell silent, a horse galloping toward them. She swung off her horse and clamped her hand over his nostrils. Others followed, barely heard above the rain on the leaves overhead and her heart thundering in her chest.

A shot and then another.

The lone rider raced by them, water splashing from the horse’s hooves.

Was it Benjamin?

Her eyes hurt from straining to see what was happening.

Horse hooves fading, others charging on. Two riders splashed past, then two more. Another shot was fired, this time so close she saw the flash of the gun.

All the hoofbeats faded into the distance. The rain picked up again, as if the brief interlude had been to tantalize them. Who was the fugitive? Who was chasing him? Confederate, Union, or deserter? What lay ahead?

Her ears ached from listening, and her eyes burned in spite of the drenching. Ahab stamped a front hoof and pushed her in the back with his nose. She stumbled one foot forward, almost surprised that she’d been able to move. She felt rooted to the soil like the oak tree that kept only the worst of the downpour from her head.

“Jesse? Jesse?”

“Here.” Clamping Ahab’s reins tight in her fist, she followed the sound, discovering the wagon no more than twenty feet away. She stopped by the front wheels. “You think that was Benjamin?”

“Uh-huh. He run like de devil himself be after him. Patrol musta cotched him.”

“Or tried to.”

“Domino, he outrun army horses anytime. You watch, Benjamin be back soon,” Meshach said.

“I hope so, but they were shooting at him.”

“No matter, he too far ’head to get shot.”

Jesselynn hoped he was as sure as he sounded. “So we wait?”

“We gets us off ’n dis here road, dat’s what. Daniel, you found any other trail or road?”

“I thinks so. Dey’s a dark spot in de woods. You wants me to look it out?”

“An’ be quick. Dem sojers might be comin’ back.”

Another wait set her skin to crawling under the soaked coat and dripping hat. At least Thaddy was dry in the wagon bed under the tarp. He and Ophelia were so quiet, either sleeping or too scared to make a sound. If only she could see. Another part of her mind reminded her,
If you could see, then they could see you
. Gratitude for the rain surged through heart and mind, the intensity of it turning the drops to steam. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

She let Ahab listen for her. As long as he dropped his head and dozed beside her, she leaned against him, her eyes heavy but the frequent shudders from the cold keeping her awake. Besides, she had yet to perfect the art of sleeping standing up. When her horse raised his head, she clamped her hand over his nostrils to keep him from whinnying. As soon as he relaxed, she knew the arrival to be Daniel.

“Follow me.” The rain nearly drowned his words.

Cold, wet, and tired didn’t begin to describe the misery that made fitting her foot in the stirrup and pulling herself aboard her horse a near impossibility. When Ahab snorted and shifted away from her, she fought tears that would only add to the water funneling off her soggy hat and streaming down her face. Leaning against the saddle, she fought the despair that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Get on the horse! Now!” she commanded herself. “Ahab, stand still!” She punctuated her words with a slap on his shoulder. Instead of obeying, he nickered and took a couple steps forward. She knew he resented being left behind, and even though she couldn’t hear the others, she knew he could. “Ahab, stand!” This time her voice snapped in the sodden air. Ahab stamped one front hoof but stood still until she swung into the saddle, it, too, soaking wet. The last remaining dry part of her shivered in the cold wet. Shrieking took more effort than she had available.

“You all right, Marse Jesse?” Meshach asked when she trotted even with the wagon. “We was ’bout to go back for you.”

Marse Jesse indeed. Right now this
young man
couldn’t wrestle a flea.

“You can git under de tarp wid ’Phelia and Thaddy.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Did Daniel say how far?”

“Over here!” The voice came from their left.

Never had night seemed so dark or rain so wet as they pulled the wagon under what smelled like an oak tree. The canopy cut off the worst of the torrent so they could hear each other talk without shouting.

“Sojers ’bout half mile ahead on de road. Farm mebbe down dis here one.” Daniel sat his horse next to Jesse. “I think we be safe here.”

Jesselynn could do no more than nod.

They waited out the night, huddling together under the tarp with the horses on long lines to graze on what they could find. The wind let up as the sky eased into gray. Torrents reduced to drizzle, tree trunks took on form, and one of the horses shook all over, his mane flapping like a soaked rag.

We’ll never get a fire started
, Jesselynn thought, trying to keep the shudders from making her teeth clack.

“We dare start a fire?” Meshach dug at a tooth with his tongue, studying the dripping landscape.

“Sojers close by,” Daniel answered.

What about Benjamin? Did he get away? If I’m supposed to be the leader here, we are in worse trouble than ever before
.

“Go on foot and see where de farm be.” Meshach pointed back along the trail they had obviously come in on.

A bugle sounded some distance away but close enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck. Jesselynn heard Ophelia stirring behind her. At least someone had slept, and the longer Thaddy slept, the easier on all of them.

A hound bayed somewhere to the north of them. As the sky lightened, birds twittered in the branches overhead. Cold hard biscuit would be all they had if they couldn’t get a fire going. A cup of hot coffee or even hot water sounded like ambrosia.

Daniel slipped back into camp like a shadow, appearing out of the trees without a sound. “Farm ’bout a quarter mile away. Dere’s dogs ’round it. Saw a man go to the barn to milk.”

Meshach returned from the trees carrying an armful of dry branches and pulled crackling leaves from his pocket. “Dey’s under a rock.” He took the tinderbox from under the tarp and set to making a fire. Within minutes the flames licking the branches brought a whole new feeling of cheer to the group.

Jesselynn felt hope climb over the despair that weighted her down.

“Is … is a fire safe?”

“Smoke won’t go far in rain. I kin—” The sound of the bugle cut off his words as they all strained to hear anything else.

A horse whinnied. A cow bellowed. Drops smacked the sodden mat of leaves on the woods floor. Another horse whinnied, this time closer.

Jesselynn stopped moving as if someone had shouted an order to halt. The others did the same. She and Meshach reached for the rifles at the same time.

Ahab nickered. The mare did also. Benjamin rode into the clearing wearing a smile wide enough to crack his face.

“Mornin’, Marse Jesse. Meshach, you kin put de guns down now.”

“Benjamin, you’re alive.” Jesselynn dropped the rifle back down in the wagon bed and grabbed Domino’s reins.

He slid off his horse and stood in front of her. “No dumb sojers gonna cotch me and Domino here. We outrun dem fo’ sure.”

“How’d you find us?” She wanted to check his arms and shoulders for the wounds she was sure he’d received with the shots fired.

“I puts bit o’ cloth on a low branch to mark our turnin’ places.” Daniel slapped Benjamin on the back. “And he finds ’em.”

A whimper from the sleeping pallets brought her attention back to the wagon. Ophelia was stirring a pot over the fire so Jesselynn pulled back the tarp, being careful to keep the puddling water from seeping into the bedding. “How’s our boy this mornin’?”

“Hungry.” He climbed up her side and nestled against her.

“Ophelia is makin’ breakfast.”

“Don’t want mush.”

“Too bad. This mornin’ we’re lucky to have anything hot.” She glanced up at the skies that hung right about the treetops. While the gray was lighter, it was still gray and drizzling.

He clung to her more tightly, his voice turning to a wheedle. “Joshwa want bacon—and egg.”

“Well, Joshwa better go on away and bring back Thaddeus, who is much more agreeable.” She kissed his cheek and nuzzled his neck.

“You wet.” He scrubbed his cheek dry.

“And cold. Get your clothes, and I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Me do it.”

“Thaddy, please just do as I tell you.” She took her hat off and slapped it against her thigh to get some water off it, then set it back on her head, pulling it low so the drip didn’t go directly down the back of her neck. While he stood glaring at her, looking so much like a miniature version of her father that laughter warred with tears, she shifted things around until she found his clothes, dry but like everything else, carrying the feel of damp.

“Breakfast ready.” Ophelia held out a bowl of steaming corn mush with a dollop of sorghum in the center.

Jesselynn pulled a wool sweater over Thaddy’s curls and set him down to put on his shoes. He grabbed his stockings.

“Me do it!” The glare he gave her could have roasted a goose. Since Jesselynn had been reared on stories of her own independence, she shook her head.
How did Mother put up with me?
“All right,
Joshwa
, you do one, and I’ll do the other. Race you.”

He took up the dare and tried cramming his toes into the stocking, which promptly slipped out of his hands and headed toward the wet ground. Jesselynn stopped rolling hers and snatched the sock before it hit the mud puddle. When she handed it back to him, Thaddy grinned up at her and handed the sock back.

“You do it.” She nodded and within a minute had his socks on and was buttoning up his shoes. Life sure would be easier if he had boots that just pulled on or laced without a button hook.

Since puddles still dotted the ground, they ate leaning against the wagon gate and the wheels. Talk died while everyone made short work of the mush, dunking their biscuits in the coffee to soften them.

“Baby cryin’.” Thaddeus cocked his head and looked off toward the west.

“There’s no babies clear out here.”

“Sho ’nuff is.” Meshach stopped chewing to listen.

The cry came again, so sad it nearly tore her heart out. When the cry stopped, then picked up again, Jesselynn scraped the last bit from her bowl and set it down on the tailgate. “I’ll go see.”

“Not widout me.” Meshach waved the others to stay where they were as he and Jesselynn headed into the woods. “Maybe dey’s a cabin up ahead.”

“Could be.” A branch snapped underneath her feet. Why was she making so much noise when Meshach seemed to move without touching the ground?

They stopped to listen again, then angled some off to the right. The cry seemed weaker.

“Are we goin’ the right direction?” she asked.

“Yessuh.” He shot her a smile that in the dimness seemed even brighter than normal.

They stopped again, waiting, but no cry came.

A chill rippled up her back. Was this a trap to separate them all, make it easier for someone to steal the horses? She looked over her shoulder, but there were no sounds of attack from the direction of the wagons. Surely no one could sneak up on them so easily that Ophelia didn’t even shriek.

She took in a breath and held it, listening so hard her ears buzzed.

A whimper. A hiccup. A cry.

Relief poured through her like a warm shower, soaking clear to her toes. There was indeed a baby. Now just to find it.

“Keep cryin’, little one,” she whispered as she and Meshach pushed aside branches and made their way toward the sound.

The ground dropped away at the lip of a hollow. Trees marched down the steep bank, a fallen granddaddy oak lying crosswise partway down. Mists feathered the trees and obscured the bottom, where she was sure a creek meandered downward between rocks and logs. How far to the water she had no idea. They ghosted from tree to tree, dancing with the fog that splattered when an errant breeze tickled the upper branches.

Once around the rotting log, she caught her breath.

Meshach shared her look of horror before stopping at the end of the log, just out of the child’s sight.

Wearing a tattered shift and covered in mud, the child rooted at the breast of the woman lying dead in the lee of the log. From the looks of her, she’d died at least the day before. A newborn lay between her legs, also dead.