Freedom's Treasure (6 page)

The crowd began to disperse immediately and Anna looked over at Hunter. “So what’s next?”

“A lot of people will go out for a short ride and then head home before the rain starts, I think. Some will head for the bar and put their blessing at risk immediately.” He started walking slowly and Anna kept pace.

“And the others?” she inquired.

“I was thinking about a walk to prevent the lead ball from settling too heavy. Want to take a walk with me, Anna?” he asked playfully.

“We’re walking now,” she grinned.

“Ah, but I have something better in mind. Where did you park?”

“At the courthouse, I couldn’t get through anywhere else.”

“You’ll have to learn the back roads.” His arm slid around her waist and he turned her to his office where he had parked his truck. “We’ll take mine. It’s not far from here. What are your plans for the day?” He kept his arm around her waist and she decided she liked the weight. His body heat warmed her side.

“I thought I’d go through some of the pictures I’ve taken, sort them into albums. There are a couple of other projects I’ve been putting off. A rainy Saturday will be perfect for them.” She watched as he opened the door of his truck for her, handed her in. She had noticed as they walked he had guided her. “And I thought chivalry was dead,” she mused. 

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she belted herself in. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he pulled carefully onto the road, paying special attention for any motorcycles already heading out. The care he took made Anna relax. It wasn’t often she rode with other people, not since a minor accident in high school.

They rode south for a few miles and Hunter turned into a long, well maintained dirt driveway.

“The Shrine of the Pines?” Anna twisted her head and watched the sign. “What is The Shrine of the Pines?”

Hunter smiled. “I think you’ll like it. There shouldn’t be too many people here today and we can take our time.” He held her elbow as she slid from the high seat and looked around.

The driveway was half a mile long and wound through layers and layers of trees. Unlike near Anna’s cabin these were original growth trees instead of the replacements the loggers of old had left in near perfect rows. To the left she saw a log cabin that had weathered many winters. To the right were several paths that went deeper into the wood. Trail signs indicated which paths were easy or difficult and the lengths of each route.

The silence was nearly complete. The heavy cloud layer and the trees cushioned any sounds that may have come through on any other day. Anna felt like she and Hunter were the only two people on the planet. What should have been creepy instead made her feel closer to this interesting new man in her life.

“The cabin is closed to visitors today so we can’t tour it. It’s a sort of tourist trap as, instead of leaving it how it should have looked in the 1800’s with people living there, they’ve done it up with local art.” Hunter gestured to the right. “I thought we’d take a walk and I’ve got a story to tell you.”

Anna cocked her head to the side. “You’re going to tell me a story? I’m intrigued.” She watched squirrels run across the path as they started down. “Is it a ghost story? Oh God, is this where you tell me about a local serial killer and then take me into the woods and pfft-,“ she indicated a knife going across her throat.

Hunter laughed. “Nothing quite so dramatic, I’m afraid. Besides, I’ve always been more of an axe guy. No, I thought you’d get a kick out of hearing some local history.”

“You definitely have my attention, Hunter Williams. Okay, tell me a story.”

Once upon a time there lived a young slave named Samuel Belvette. Samuel was born into a loving family who had farmed the same land for as long as they could remember and they knew they would probably farm that land until the end of time – or until the man who owned them sold them or lost them in a poker game.

When Samuel was young he was treated well. His owners were compassionate, caring people who did the best they could. They owned many slaves and kept families together. Though he wasn’t treated as an equal, Samuel enjoyed many of the same benefits as the child of his owner.

Mary Ellen was the same age as Samuel. When Mary Ellen learned to read, Samuel was there and learned as a by-product. When Mary Ellen rode her first pony Samuel was there as her groom and learned as well. And when Mary Ellen began receiving her first suitors Samuel was there and ready to intercede on her behalf if any of the men went too far in their attentions.

Then the unthinkable happened. Mary Ellen’s mother and father were killed in a carriage accident coming back from a party at a neighboring plantation. Marry Ellen and Samuel’s lives were thrown into an uproar along with the rest of the plantation.

During this time of mourning and confusion a friend of her father’s began coming around a bit more, having seen the beauty and naivety of the young girl. He offered counsel and advice, helped to ensure the plantation continued to run smoothly. He courted Mary Ellen lavishly and whisked her into a wedding while she had stars in her eyes and pain in her heart.

The trouble began soon after though Mary Ellen did her best to turn a blind eye. Rumors of whippings in the fields came to her and she denied there could be a problem. Young girls from the slave quarters grew quiet and lived with fear in their eyes and Mary Ellen could not see it. But Samuel did. He saw that and more.

There was a look in the new Master’s eyes, one that did not bode well for a dog much less a slave. The man consumed more whiskey and brandy in a night than the Old Master had in a month. Samuel began to fear for Mary Ellen but the man never turned a hand or harsh word onto his young bride. Until he did.

One night Samuel stood in a corner of the library with a bad feeling in his stomach. The Old Bastard, as Samuel had taken to calling him, had drank enough bourbon to drain all reason. There was an anger simmering and Samuel was afraid this would be the night the Old Bastard would lose control so he stood watch, ready to protect his oldest friend.

“Where did he hide it, bitch?” the Old Bastard was pacing around Mary Ellen in the darkened library. The only light came from a roaring fire across from the desk she sat at. “Where did he hide the money?” His arm swept across the desk, scattering books and papers to the floor.

Mary Ellen bit her lower lip and kept her eyes down, submissive. She’d never seen her husband act this way and it frightened her. “I don’t know what you mean,” her voice quivered.

“He took his money out of the bank and it’s here somewhere! Gold, jewels, something! Where is it? It’s what I married you for, now where is it?!” his voice rose and disdain dripped from each word.

“I don’t-,“ she didn’t finish the sentence when the back of his hand flew through the air, connected with her cheek and sent Mary Ellen to the floor.

“Don’t lie to me, you
bitch
! Tell me where it is!” His foot connected with her side. It took all Samuel had in him to not kill the man where he stood. He took half a step forward, not sure what he would do but he knew he had to do something to protect Mary Ellen.

“You! Don’t you move!” the Old Bastard shot a finger at Samuel, pointing him to his spot like a dog. He whirled back to Mary Ellen. “I’m tired of waiting, Mary Ellen. Tell me where it is and we can stop this, I’ll take you upstairs for a bath and maybe I won’t drown you after all.”

Samuel couldn’t stop himself. He lunged forward, a fist cocked. He knew this could mean his death but better his than Mary Ellen’s. She was one of the people Samuel loved most in this world and he’d protect her at all cost. The Old Bastard whirled around and threw punch after punch at Samuel, knocking him to the ground where he took to kicking at Samuel’s head.

Crash!
Mary Ellen stepped back, a stricken look on her face. At her feet lay her husband. She dropped the broken vase onto him and stepped to Samuel.

“Samuel! Let me help you,” she brought him to his feet, watched with care as he swayed. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine, Miss Mary Ellen,” he looked at the crumpled form on the ground. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. I hit him hard. What are we going to do, Samuel? He’ll kill you when he wakes up.” Tears began streaming from her pretty green eyes. “I’m so sorry!”

“Sh sh, it will be fine.” Samuel was thinking fast. This couldn’t have gone any worse. “I have a plan but you have to go, Mary Ellen. Go to your room, clean up. Your lip has bled onto your dress. I’ll take care of him. Now go!” Without putting hands on Mary Ellen, he herded her to the door. After she’d fled up the stairs he turned and planned the next few steps. 

The fireplace poker was handy and Samuel was strong from splitting wood. He swung at the Old Bastard’s head with all his might. Quickly he ransacked the library, throwing priceless books to the floor. He tore paintings from the wall and left them where they fell.

When Mary Ellen returned and saw what he was doing she helped tear the library apart. Underneath a tapestry hanging near the fireplace a wall safe became visible. Mary Ellen opened it. There were no valuables here but it would help with the illusion. Her father had been a brilliant man and he would never have left anything of importance in a safe so easy to find.

Their task complete the two ran to the smoke shack where meats were cured. Samuel grabbed a shovel from a nearby shed, counted five steps north and two to the east and began digging while Mary Ellen grabbed a sack. Once they’d uncovered the strongbox Mary Ellen filled the sack. On top of the coins and paper she added some fresh fruit and other items.

“Take this and go to the Langdon’s plantation. Ask for Annabelle. They’ll hide you and get you started for the North. Travel at night. Write to me when you’re settled somewhere,” Mary Ellen’s eyes shot over Samuel’s shoulder. “We don’t have any more time. You have to go now. They’re coming.”

Samuel turned to look and saw men coming to the house with lanterns to light their way. The noise had drawn attention and their time together was limited. If the men figured out what he’d done, Samuel’s life wouldn’t be worth spit.

“I’ll come back, Mary Ellen,” he reached out a tentative finger and withdrew it before he could touch her cheek. “I’ll come back for you.”

She pushed him. “Go! Now! I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. I’ll tell them we had a burglar and send them west. Now go!”

Samuel went.

“It took about a year for Samuel to reach Baldwin,” Hunter continued. From the corner of his eye he saw Anna wipe a tear. “He used what he needed of the money Mary Ellen sent

him with to build his home, start a small farm. Three years after he had left, Samuel was ready to go back for Mary Ellen. He got his affairs in order and started the long journey. No one heard from him again.”

Hunter and Anna had walked twice around the paths while he had told the story. They continued for a third time as Anna thought about the tale.

“That has to be one of the most heartbreaking stories I’ve ever heard. They loved each other that much in that time? No wonder she sent him away. They would have hung him.” Anna sniffled. “Allergies,” she said.

“Yeah, right, you big softie,” Hunter nudged her with his hip.

“So what happened to Mary Ellen? A dead husband can be pretty hard to explain.”

“No one knows. I don’t think anyone knew the location of the family Samuel came from. There were hundreds of Belvettes in the South back then and even now. My mother likes genealogy and took it on as a challenge. She hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s a mystery to this day. And that’s not the only one,” Hunter felt a drop of cold water hit his nose. He’d been able to hear a gentle rain fall but the leaf canopy at the Shrine was thick enough to prevent them from feeling the effects.

“The other mystery being, where’s the rest of the gold?” Anna asked.

“That’s right. It would have been insane for him to take it back to the Deep South. A black man with that kind of money would have been killed in a heartbeat, with no questions asked,” Hunter nodded. “There have been a lot of theories and a lot of people who’ve heard the story have come looking for it. We aren’t talking
National Treasure
amounts of gold but enough to make someone very happy with today’s exchange rate.”