Daughter of Twin Oaks (7 page)

She shook her head.
There you go, borrowing trouble
, she scolded herself and returned Ophelia’s smile as she picked up Jesselynn’s plate. One hint of superstition like that and they’d all be moaning and crying like death was at their very door.

She stared into the dregs of her cup. What she wouldn’t give for a cup of
real
coffee. The ground chickory looked like coffee, but the semblance ended there. However, it was hot and not too bitter when laced with milk. If only they had brought the cow. Instead, she hoped to buy milk along the way. Surely there would be farmers with a gallon or so of milk to sell. The cow could never have kept the pace she hoped to set, not and produce milk too.

She emptied the sludge in the bottom of her cup out on the ground and got to her feet. One good thing, britches beat skirts any day for the walking and climbing around she needed to do to check their supplies.

“You take de bed under de wagon”—Meshach nodded to the pallet laid out—“and sleep now. We all take turns.”

Jesselynn nodded. Somewhere along the line Meshach had assumed the leading role here, and if she weren’t so tired, she’d talk to him about that. Right now, thoughts in any kind of order were beyond her.

She woke with the sun in the western sky and the sound of gunfire.

Chapter Six

“Why’d you let me sleep so long?” She kept her voice to a hiss. Meshach shook his head. “You needed sleep.” He cocked his head, listening. “Dey goin’ away.” He nodded toward the east.

“You’re sure?”

“Um. Been lis’nin’.”

“Where’s Benjamin?”

“Scoutin’.”

Jesselynn glanced around the campsite. Ophelia and Thaddy were sound asleep on a pallet under a full-branched oak. Ahab raised his head, studied the sounds from the east, and dropped his muzzle to graze again.

“Ahab better’n a watchdog.”

“Prettier too.” The guns were indeed going the other way; even she could tell that by now.

“We cross the ferry at dusk tonight.” She wasn’t sure if it were a question or an order.

“Yes, Marse.” A smile tugged at the edge of his full lips. “Benjamin say river low enough to swim horses. Only take wagon on de ferry.”

“We could save money that way.”

“And be safe.”

Jesselynn knew it was her turn to smile—and nod. She reached back under the wagon to pull out her boots. Wide awake as she was, she might as well write in her journal. Someday someone might want to read what happened on their way west.

That afternoon when they pulled out, Jesselynn sat on the wagon seat beside Meshach, and Ophelia rocked a sleeping Thaddeus in her arms. As they drew nearer to Clifton, where the ferry crossed the Kentucky River, she pulled a sheet over his face and kept on rocking.

Jesselynn swallowed to keep the fear from knotting her tongue and strangling her throat. Would someone be watching for them They waited while the ferry, nothing more than a flat raft, was pulled from one side of the river to the other by a hawser attached to a single tree and pulled by a mule. When they unloaded, the mule on the east side of the river took over, and the ferry returned.

A woman approached the wagon. “That’ll be fifty cents.”

Jesselynn dug the coins out of her pocket and handed them over.

Maybe we should have swum the whole rig at that price
. “Thankee.”

Meshach nodded. “Welcome.” He slapped the reins, and the team walked up the ramp placidly as if they did so every day.

Jesselynn let out a sigh and felt her shoulders slump. So far so good. As the ferry glided to the other side and bumped against the bank, the man on that side shoved the planks in place and off they walked.

Meshach nodded again and touched the brim of his hat as they drove up the bank and onto the westering road. A mile or so later, Benjamin and Daniel rode up on wet horses, leading the other two.

“We did it.” Jesselynn slapped her knees and let out a decidedly unladylike whoop. “Okay, Ahab, my turn to ride.” She leaped from the wagon and beat Benjamin to the saddle, slinging it and the pad over the stallion’s back with smooth motions. Once bridled, she mounted and grinned at her people. “Now, let’s get outa here.”

After looking toward Jesselynn for permission, Ophelia settled Thaddeus on the pallet and climbed up on the wagon seat, her smile pure pleasure at being able to sit closer to the man with the reins. With Meshach driving the wagon, Jesselynn nudged Ahab forward, and the trip took on an entirely new meaning for her. All the years she’d halfheartedly obeyed the strictures of young womanhood, she could now hear Lucinda as if she rode right behind her.
“Young ladies don’ wear britches. Young ladies don’ ride stallions.”
And, oh, if she could only hear her mother speaking again, telling her to speak softly, to walk not run, to work before taking pleasure.

But she couldn’t, so she paid attention to what she was doing. The horse she rode wanted to run. That’s what Ahab had been bred for, and he fought the bit and the strength of her hands. If only she dared let him run for a while, just to top him off, but she knew better. Nothing in the world would attract more attention than the two of them racing down the road.

She brought him to a standstill and patted his sweat-dotted neck. “All right, old son, you can do this the hard way or the easy way, but I’ll warn you right now, it’s going to be my way.” The stallion snorted as the other members of the party pulled on ahead. He twitched his tail and shifted from foot to foot.

Jesselynn tightened the reins and kept up a murmur that would soothe any fractious critter, two-legged or four. Ahab sighed and, flat-footed now, shook his head, his burr-filled mane slapping from side to side. She ached to clean him up, but the rougher he looked the better. Gone was the sparkling white blaze down his face and the rear off-white sock. His coat, dyed with walnut husks like her hair, looked rough and patchy, no longer that striking blood bay of days before. Even the river bath hadn’t removed the dye, another worry off her mind.

Joseph and Meshach had done a good job on all the horses. By tomorrow perhaps Ahab would tolerate the harness. Meshach had worked him under it in the afternoon.

She let him trot until they caught up and no longer had to fight her horse and the fear that rose at every sound. Horses whinnied when they passed a farm, and dogs barked, but no one ordered them to stop. She rode alongside the wagon, glancing over to check on Thaddeus—or Joshua, as he now insisted on being called. How their father would have loved to hear “Joshwa,” as the boy said it.

They’d ridden for several hours when she heard a horse galloping their way. Benjamin pulled to a stop in front of them. “Sojers ahead.”

With woods on both sides of them, they hurried along the road, searching for a place to get the wagon through the trees. Jesselynn rode ahead, her heart pounding louder than the sound of her horse’s hooves. Since it wasn’t full dark yet, they needed to hide quickly. Her heart hammered until she saw a lighter place between trees. She beckoned to Meshach on the wagon.

“They’re just up ahead. Hurry.”

They’d barely cleared the opening when she heard the horses coming toward them. All of them had dismounted to cover their horses’ muzzles.

God, please make them blind. Surely our tracks lead in here
. She could feel Ahab come to attention as he shifted his front feet. She kept one hand firmly over his nose and the other clamped to the reins under his chin.

Horses and riders passed, then wagons.

Mosquitoes buzzed and drank their fill, for she had no hands to slap them. Sweat trickled down her back, her legs, her forehead. The wet beads burned her eyes, eyes that already ached from staring through the darkness, wishing for a night so black they couldn’t be seen.

Was it the entire Confederate army passing by? Where were Daniel and Benjamin?

She needed a drink. To cough. Her throat tightened. She swallowed. She tried clearing it softly with gentle pressure. She clamped two fingers over her nose to keep from sneezing. Ahab shifted.

The canteen on her saddle might as well have been in Lexington. Now that it was truly dark, she wished she could see.

An owl hooted off in the woods. A mockingbird sang his night song. No matter how hard she strained, she could no longer hear the jingle of harness nor the clump of hooves.

She sagged against Ahab’s shoulder and finally coughed. Her shoulders ached, her fingers too. The bones in her legs felt about as stout as newly washed chitlins.

When she swallowed, the fear tasted metallic, as if she’d chewed a patch of skin off the inside of her cheek and it bled.

“You all right?” Meshach spoke right by her shoulder.

She jumped as if he’d leaped from behind a wall and shrieked “boo” as her brothers used to do to tease her. Clapping a hand to her racing heart, she swallowed again. “I-I’m fine. How are the others?”

“Thaddy sleepin’. ’Phelia done good wid ’im.”

“Good.” Jesselynn fumbled for her canteen. She felt like pouring it over her head but instead took only a few swallows. “Hold Ahab and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’ go far.”

“No, I won’t.”

Back in the saddle they waited what seemed like hours for Benjamin to signal the all clear so they could drive back up on the road. How many miles had they sacrificed? It felt like half the night. They picked up a fast trot and kept the pace until the team was blowing and even Ahab had worked up a sweat. In spite of the jolting, Thaddeus slept curled next to Ophelia on the pallet of quilts in the back of the wagon.

First light lent its silvery sheen to the woods and farms as they trotted along the road, now searching for a place to spend the day.

“How far to Bardstown?” Jesselynn pulled back to ride by the wagon.

“Don’ know fo’ sure.” Meshach studied the area around them. “Maybe git dere tomorrow night. I think we bypassed Lawrenceburg.”

“We’ve got to lay up soon.” A dog barked off to the left. Farmers would be heading for milking and fieldwork at any time. If they came upon a racing farm, the horses would be out on the track for morning works.

Jesselynn shook her head at the thought. No, they wouldn’t. Most all the horses had already been conscripted, and while she was sure other farms were hiding what horses they could, no one would dare use the tracks.

The dog continued to bark, setting the next farm’s watchdogs to doing the same. They had to find a place to camp.

From the looks of things when they topped a long grade, their wood cover had about been overrun with farming. Tall barns with slatted sides that could be raised to let the airflow dry the tobacco outnumbered the horse barns crowned with cupolas.

Did they dare ask for refuge in a barn?

Jesselynn shook her head again. That would be a last resort.

The rising sun gilded the treetops, setting fire to those that had begun to don fall dress.

“De sojers get us?” Ophelia raised her head, fear widening her eyes.

“No, you and Thaddy just go right on back to sleep.” Meshach smiled over his shoulder, his voice reassuring.

Jesselynn wished she could believe him. Her eyes burned and her head felt as if it might fall right off her neck. While she loved to ride, and britches made riding astride possible, riding for pleasure and riding all night to escape were two mighty different things. Her rear hurt, her shoulders ached, and even Ahab was drooping. She had to nudge him sometimes to keep up an even trot.

She felt jiggled to pieces.

The sun broke from the horizon and bounded into the sky.

God, hide us. You say you are our refuge. Help us find a place to hide
.

Panic tasted as bad as fear. Ahab’s ears pricked forward. A lone rider was coming toward them at a good clip.

“Benjamin come.”

Jesselynn knew Meshach must be right, but it was several seconds before she was sure herself.

Benjamin waved, beckoning them to speed up, then turned back the way he’d come. They picked up their speed, but breaking into a canter would attract more attention. Jesselynn rode back to the wagon.

“Here, you take Ahab and the filly with you and get out of sight. A young man with a wagon and one slave won’t attract as much attention.”

“No, Marse, I not do dat.”

“Yes, you will.” She swung to the ground just in front of the team, causing them all to stop, harnesses jingling in protest. She handed the reins up to Meshach and mounted the wagon wheel. “Now hurry.” Meshach hesitated one more heart-stopping second, his dark eyes snapping fire and his jaw carved in rock.

Jesselynn held her breath, at the same time reaching for the team reins. “You know I’m right.” She kept her voice low, trying to guard against Ophelia starting to whimper and wake Thaddeus.

When the big black took the stallion’s reins and jumped to the ground, all the air left her lungs and she sank onto the wagon seat. Within seconds he had untied the filly, mounted Ahab, and galloped after Benjamin.

She could feel his anger carried back to her on the wind. But his years of slave training had held. Marse was always right. She clucked the team into a trot and followed the two she could barely see ahead. A man on a horse cantered past them, calling a greeting as he pulled even. When he went on without saying any more than that, Jesselynn felt she could breathe again. Had her voice sounded low enough for a young man? Slurring her words helped somewhat, adopting the softer sounds of the slaves instead of her own more perfect speech. Her father had insisted those in the big house speak properly, in spite of their Kentucky drawl.

About a mile farther, Benjamin sat his horse by the side of the road, and as soon as Jesselynn answered his wave, he trotted off down a side road. Since a loaded wagon was coming toward them, she kept her chin low as she gently pulled the team down to an easier turning pace. The man driving the wagon looked familiar, but she refused to look over her shoulder. She was sure the man was the overseer of the Tarlander Plantation to the east of Twin Oaks, but evidencing any interest could catch the other’s attention.

Thank God Ahab and Meshach were out of sight. He’d worked for Tarlander more than once and would surely have been recognized.

“Was that who I think it was?” she asked Benjamin when he waited for her at a bridge crossing a wide creek.

“Yessuh.” Benjamin shook his head. “Dat close.” He turned his horse. “Not far now.”

They gathered in a small clearing bordering the creek, where Daniel awaited them. He was already gathering sticks for a fire.

Jesselynn reached behind her to help a groggy Thaddeus climb up on the seat. “You been a mighty good boy. I’m right proud of you.”

“Hungry?” He reached up and wrapped his arms around her neck. Burrowing into her chest like a little gopher, he repeated with more insistence. “Hungry. Want milk?”

Jesselynn sighed. Where would they get milk Other fresh food too, for that matter. Her eyes felt as if they’d been rolling in the Sahara Desert, and her rear felt permanently glued to the hard seat.

“I git some.” Benjamin remounted his horse.

“You’d best take the mule, then,” Jesselynn said.

“Oh.” He dismounted with a nod. “ ’Phelia, you got a jug?” Meshach unhitched the team and removed the harness from both horse and mule, then slipped a bridle with short reins on the mule. “You hurry.”

After handing Benjamin a couple of their precious store of coins, Jesselynn climbed over the wagon wheel and, when her feet felt solid ground, leaned against the wheel until her knees no longer felt like buckling. She propped her head on hands crossed on the iron wheel rim, thinking only of her bed back at Twin Oaks. The mosquito net draped just so, clean sheets cool to the skin, a mattress that molded to one’s body and let sleep come like a welcome visitor.