Daughter of Twin Oaks (29 page)

Jesselynn felt like crying for her, but more tears would only water the soup, as Lucinda was wont to say. “A cup of tea will help, I know.”

“No tea.”

“Coffee?”

A shake of her head. “And there’s nothin’ left to sell, neither. We already did that.”

“What have you been livin’ on?”

“The fruit and vegetables from our garden. The two hens left give us eggs. We manage.”

“Good.” The thought of an egg made her mouth get all set for the taste.

“But I’ve been thinkin’ maybe some chicken soup would help—”

A rap at the front door stopped her in midsentence. “The doctor.” Her slippers
flap-flapped
down the hall as she hurried to let him in.

“I’m goin’ to de livery now, if you don’ need me anymore.”

“Not unless you can find something to cut up for firewood.”

“Kin do dat tomorrer and bring it here in de wagon.”

“I know.” Jesselynn rubbed her forehead with the fingers of one hand. “You go on.” She jingled the coins in her pocket. Should she buy wood for the women or scrape by on what was out there? The money in her pocket was all that stood between them all and … the thought didn’t bear thinking about. She could at least have brought in some dried meat, if she’d known things were so bad here.

The doctor came out of the sickroom shaking his head. “Not much we can do but keep her comfortable. When a body don’t want to live anymore, hard to keep ’em here.” He shivered and came to the stove to rub his hands over the heat. “They let the fire go out?” he said under his breath to Jesselynn.

“About out of wood.”

“Long on pride, these two, and short on sense.” The doctor shook his head. “I’ll get some wood over here sometime today.”

“We can bring in a load tomorrow.” The doctor nodded. “You a relative?”

“Agatha’s nephew from Kentucky. Thought to be safe here.”

The doctor barked a laugh. “It’s bad now but goin’ to be worse, you mark my words.”

“Worse?”

“Those hotheads down in Arkansas …”

Jesselynn didn’t even want to ask him what he meant. Bluebellies, graycoats, no matter, she just wanted the war over so she could go home. She saw the doctor to the door, refusing to dip into their meager cash store to pay him, then returned to the backyard to see what she could turn into firewood to keep these two old ladies warm until the morrow. Since there were no animals, she tore off the manger and hacked it into stove-size lengths, likewise the posts and sides of the stall divider. That along with the remaining chunks of wood should serve them. The two hens eyed her, then went back to scratching in their pen. Since the grain bin was empty, Jesselynn brought in some garden refuse and threw it down for them.

Now she had all the old biddies cared for. The thought brought an almost smile. She went back in the house and set a pot of water to boiling to make soup out of dried beans, dried corn, fresh carrots, turnips, rutabagas, and potatoes, all from the cellar, along with a bit of cabbage. Again she wished she’d brought some of the dried venison along.

Agatha came out of the sickroom some time later and sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table. “She’s sleeping, poor thing.” She eyed the bottle of laudanum the doctor had left on the table. “At least she’s not so restless. I could tell she was in pain, and at least now that can be helped.”

Jesselynn watched her aunt straighten the saltcellar and smooth out the crocheted doily. She moved the medicine closer, then set it farther off again. Had the doctor told Agatha what he believed?

“You want me to spend the night?” She waited until she heard Meshach’s boots on the steps to ask.

“No, no. You’ve done plenty, what with the wood and the soup and all. We’ll be fine. Perhaps by tomorrow Lettie will be feeling much better.”

She doesn’t know. Good grief, what am I to do?

“You go on now. Your people need you worse than I do.” Agatha made shooing motions with her hands. The vigor had returned to her voice, giving her almost as much a commanding presence as in earlier days.

“We’ll be back with wood tomorrow, then.” Jesselynn gave her aunt a hug and let herself be ushered out the door.

“No work here ’less I go to de army. But got a letter here for Sergeant White. Make him right happy.” Meshach patted his pocket.

As they left town, that old feeling of being watched kept Jesselynn looking over her shoulder.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now
. But her interior muttering did nothing to dispel the feeling, so they returned to their cave a different way.

“Letter for you,” Meshach said, handing Barnabas the envelope as soon as they got to the cave.

“Ah, from home.” His smile widened. “A letter from home.” He opened it carefully to save the paper and pulled out a single sheet. Only moments after beginning to read, he raised stricken eyes to meet Jesselynn’s. “I’ve got to go home as soon as possible. My mother is desperately ill, and there is no one else to care for her. May I use one of the horses to ride to Springfield? I can catch the stagecoach to Fort Smith from there.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Missouri

“I’ll be back,” Sergeant White assured Jesselynn.

Why did those words seem so familiar? Jesselynn nodded. “Maybe you’ll have to come all the way to Kentucky.”

“No matter where, I’ll find you.”

She nodded again. “You just get your family taken care of.” She stepped back when he reached for her. Two men hugging in public would cause all sorts of raised eyebrows, and she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

“I left you my address. You’ll write?” The plea in his eyes tugged at her heart.

“And you? We’ll miss you.”
I’ll miss you
. She didn’t want to admit that to anyone, let alone herself.

As soon as he boarded the stage, she turned and headed back for Aunt Agatha’s, where Meshach would be unloading the wood.
You will not cry!
She kept the order pounding out the same rhythm as her marching feet.

As soon as she’d checked with her aunt, who said Lettie was about the same as yesterday, she climbed up on the wagon seat and, taking the reins, headed the team out of town.

“De neighbors want to buy a load of wood,” Meshach said after they were halfway back to the cave.

“Really? For how much?”

He named a price, and she smacked her lips together. “That will buy flour and beans.”

“Miss Agatha, she send home some veg’bles.” He motioned to a tow sack behind the seat. “An’ three eggs.”

Amazing, we actually think of the cave as home
. She had realized that the day before when thinking the same thing herself. But this time there was no Sergeant Barnabas White to look forward to talking with. She stopped the next sigh in mid-exhale. Sighing could become a habit, a bad habit. If she let herself think of all the people who’d gone out of her life the last couple of years, the sighing would lead to crying, and no way was she going to let
that
happen.

“Maybe someone else would buy wood too.”
If only they didn’t have to use the horses as a team
. She wished they could have caught whoever stole their mule.

“Marse Jesse, I gots sumpin’ to ask you.”

Jesselynn glanced at the man sitting beside her. “So ask.”

“Well, you heard Sergeant White talkin’ wid us ’bout goin’ west? Go on to Oregon for free land.”

“Mmm. Guess I didn’t pay much attention.”

“I wants to do dat. Dey no niggers dere. Only black men free on their own free land. ’Phelia an’ me, we wants ta be married, then up and go west.” The final words came in a rush. “Sammy too.”

“Oh.” His words hit her like a dozen knife slashes. “You don’t want to go home to Twin Oaks?”

“No’m. I wants land of my own.”

She could hear the pride in his voice, the kind of pride she’d been nursing along so that he could become the man she knew he was.

“Would you wait until I get the horses home? Then I’d send you with my blessing.”

“Yessuh, we would wait. Planned it thataway anyhow. I’d never leave you alone in dat cave.”

“Good, that’s settled, then. But if you and Ophelia want to get married sooner than that, I see no reason to wait. You could go to a minister in Springfield.”

“I’ll think on dat.”

A scream from up ahead made her slap the horses into a trot. She pulled them to a stop near the top of the ridge and slung the reins around the brake post. Meshach was halfway down the hill before she crowned the ridge.

“Don’t come any further!” The voice came from her worst nightmare.

“Now drop your gun or this nigger here won’t have no head.” Meshach did as ordered.

Jesselynn hid behind the tree with the huge burl and surveyed the scene below. She counted five of the roughest-looking men she’d ever seen, and Cavendar Dunlivey was the ugliest. How had she ever thought him handsome in those long-ago days at Twin Oaks? He wore a coat that once had been gray and cut for an officer, but now dirt warred with holes as to who owned it. His hat slouched over one eye, but the pistol he held against Ophelia’s head glinted in the sunlight.

One man held a gun on Benjamin and Daniel, while two others were leading the horses out of the cave.

For an instant, Jesselynn was grateful they’d hooked Ahab up in the team, but that made no difference now. How could she get them out of this? She fingered the pistol she’d taken to wearing in her waistband and had drawn when she ducked behind the tree. She could get Dunlivey, but what about the others?

Jane Ellen sat where they must have dumped her, face slack, focusing on nothing. Sammy and Thaddeus huddled with Benjamin and Daniel. Looked like both the young’uns had been crying.

“Now, whar is she?” Dunlivey roared, nudging the mouth of the pistol under Ophelia’s chin. Her eyes rolled white, and she whimpered, the sound such pure terror that Jesselynn drew back on the trigger. One shot and he would be gone.

“Who?” Meshach burned with a fire of his own, leashed only by a will that knew he’d be dead, and then what would happen to the rest?

“Miss Jesselynn Highwood, that’s who.”

“Don’t never seen another woman here, boss.” The man guarding the others called.

“She done gone back home.” Meshach stood taller.

“And left that brat here. Naw, she’s around.” He poked the gun again. “Now whar?”

“Gone to her aunt’s house.” Benjamin drew back from the gun aimed at his head.

“Ah, then we wait. She’s comin’ back.” Dunlivey lowered his gun, and Ophelia collapsed in a heap at his feet. He kicked her aside and strolled over to Meshach. “You ’member that beating I owed ya?” He walked around the statue of ebony. “Answer me, niggah!”

The gun now dug into Meshach’s neck.

“Yessuh.”

One of the men who’d tied the mare to a nearby tree now reached down and picked up Ophelia, dangling her as one would a doll. “Now this here might be a fun plaything.”

Meshach growled like an animal at bay.

Oh, don’t move, Meshach. Wait, please wait. You remember Dunlivey. He likes to tease and torture. Hang on
.

The man reached out and ripped Ophelia’s dress down the front. She screamed and tried to cover herself. Meshach made a slight motion to go to her, and Dunlivey clubbed him over the head with his pistol. Meshach dropped like a steel weight.

“Watch ’im!”

One of the men shifted over to rest the tip of his rifle on Meshach’s cheek.

Oh, God, what do I do?

“Let them all go, Dunlivey, and I’ll come in!” Her voice rang with authority.

“Ha! I got them, and now you too.”

Jesselynn aimed at the side of his boot. The shot rang out, and he jumped as if he’d been stung. “That wasn’t a miss.”

A string of curses heated the air.

“You want me to try again? Closer maybe?” More curses. A snicker from one of his men.

“Let my people go!” Where had she heard those words before? The shot took off his hat.

Dunlivey nodded to his men. “Let ’em go. But we keep the guns. They won’t go nowhere.”

His men stepped back. “Benjamin, get them outa there.”

Like an adder striking, Dunlivey snatched up Thaddeus. “Now show yourself.”

“Put him down. I told you I’d come in.” Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might leap from her chest.
Not Thaddeus!

“Let them all go, Dunlivey, or my next shot is through your heart.” Her hand clutching the pistol shook so hard she couldn’t have hit the cave wall.

“Show yerself!”

Thaddeus screamed. Jesselynn stepped out from behind the tree.

A shot rang out. Dunlivey dropped Thaddeus and clutched his belly that blossomed red with blood.

One of his men raised his gun, but before he could fire, Jesselynn’s shot caught him in the shoulder and spun him around. The other three grabbed him and all disappeared into the trees.

Jane Ellen stood, feet spread, the gun in her hand now pointing at the ground.

“I’m gut shot.” Dunlivey sagged to the ground, trying to hold his lifeblood in with spread fingers. “Don’t leave me! You filthy scum, get back here!”

By the time Jesselynn got down to the clearing, Benjamin had an arm around Jane Ellen and held her as sobs rocked her skeleton body. Ophelia held Meshach in her arms, his head cradled in her lap. Sammy, tears streaming over his cheeks, toddled over to them, and Thaddeus drove straight for Jesselynn.

She scooped him up in her arms and rocked him, raining kisses on his cheeks.

“Someone, help me.”

Jesselynn strode over to the clothesline she and Ophelia had hung and ripped a cloth off the rope. Tossing it to Dunlivey, she said calmly, as if she did this every day, “Fold that up and pack it in the wound. Might stop the bleedin’.”

“The rest of you, let’s get the things out of the cave. We can’t stay here any longer.”

Within half an hour, they were ready to load the wagon. As they went about their chores, no one looked at Dunlivey.

When they trudged up the hill with the supplies, he cried, “Give me a drink at least. Please give me a drink.”

Meshach looked at Jesselynn, ignored her when she shook her head, and took a cup of water to the wounded man, who’d now managed to get himself backed up against a tree trunk.

“Dis only make it worse.”

“You aren’t goin’ to leave me here?”

“Surely your men will come back for you.” Jesselynn knew they wouldn’t. Not the way they hightailed it. Knowing Dunlivey, he’d probably beaten each of them at one time or another.

He coughed. “You got any whisky?”

“ ’Fraid not.” She went back in the cave to see if they’d forgotten anything.

“All ready up here,” Benjamin called from the lip of the ridge.

“Be right there.” She took one more look around.
“Take him into town and leave him at the doctor’s. Surely you can do that.”
Her mother’s voice rang clear as if she stood right there. Jesselynn sighed. Yes, she could do that, even though he’d need a miracle.

“Ya can’t go back, ya know.”

She stopped and stared at him.

“I burnt it.” His eyes slitted, and what might have been a laugh choked from his mouth. “I burnt Twin Oaks to the ground the night you left. You got nothin’.”

“What about Lucinda, the others?”
He’s lyin’. He’s got to be lyin’
. “Slaver got ’em.”

“But they had their papers.”

“Not after the burnin’.” He coughed, and pink spittle bubbled from his mouth.

Jesselynn staggered. Twin Oaks burned to the ground. “You’re lyin’!”

He dug in his breast pocket and tossed her something. She bent down and picked up her silver comb, half melted but still recognizable.

“Found that in the ashes.”

She looked him in the eyes. His glee could mean only one thing. She rubbed the ashes off the comb, spun, and strode off.

“Shoot me, then. Put me out of this misery.”

She looked back. “I’ve never shot a man and I won’t start now.” With that she strode up the hill to where the others waited.
Where do we go? What do I do? No matter what I—oh, God—what do I do?

She stopped at the oak with the big burl and, taking a deep breath, turned around. “I’ll send a doctor back for you.”
There, Mama. I tried
. Each foot felt shod in granite.
Where, God, where do we go?

She topped the rise as the fiery gold disc slipped behind the horizon. Oranges, pinks, purples, and magenta bled across the sky and burned the clouds to silver. Then the answer came.

“Where we goin’?” Benjamin handed her the reins.

“West. Soon as we can. West, where there’s no ‘niggers,’ only black men as free as the land.”