Patricia Hagan (13 page)

She waited until Jarvis had walked away. “It’s nothing, really. Your father’s a bit nervous. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded.

Jarvis signaled to the musicians to stop playing. Then he escorted Claudia up to the platform.

They took their places, and Jarvis exchanged an adoring gaze with Claudia before giving his attention to his guests. Everyone was silent in respectful anticipation. Taking a deep breath, Jarvis began, “I’ve a wonderful announcement to make to you tonight, and I hope you will all share my happiness. But first, let me tell you how much moving to Vicksburg has meant to me.

“I’m well aware,” he continued, grinning broadly, “that some of you didn’t welcome us Yankees with open arms. But you’ve made me feel at home here, and I want you to know I appreciate that.”

Someone called out jovially, “The war’s over!”

A ripple of applause bolstered the sentiment.

To each his own, Holly thought, exasperated with the display. Let them welcome the Yankees.

“So,” Jarvis went on, his chest swelling, and his face glowing. “It makes me very happy to share my wonderful news with you, my new friends. Claudia Maxwell has done me the honor of consenting to be my wife.”

The crowd exploded with real applause, everyone surging forward to offer congratulations. Claudia was much loved by the old guard, and a symbol of happier times in Mississippi.

Holly went to her mother, gave her a hug, and stiffly shook Jarvis’s hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scott, and when the orchestra had begun playing again, she said to Roger, “You promised me a dance.”

But he had promised that dance, so after giving Holly a look of apology, he led Lisa Lou onto the floor.

For Holly, the evening was over right then. She was not going to tolerate Lisa Lou’s smirks from the dance floor as Roger held her in his arms. Nor was she going to continue to pretend she didn’t notice Scott Colter. She had stayed for the announcement, she had said and done the proper things, and that was all she would do. The next time she saw Roger, she’d apologize to him, but she told herself it didn’t matter whether he was angry or not.

She was halfway down the front steps when someone called her name. Turning, she frowned at the sight of Captain Davis hurrying down the stairs. “Holly, where are you going?” he asked anxiously. “You can’t leave without your escort.”

She sighed. Why did so many people concern themselves with her welfare? “I have a headache, Neil. I want some air. I’m going home.”

He shook his head. “You can’t walk home alone. It isn’t that safe during the day, much less at night.”

“I really want to be alone, Neil,” she said firmly.

“I’ll be glad to walk with you, Holly. I’d feel better about you.”

She shook her head. “I know the way to Abby’s quite well, thank you. It’s a pleasant walk. Good night, Neil.” She went quickly, disappearing into the shadows. Dejected, he returned to the party…

There was a quarter-moon and the velvet night was lovely, but Holly hurried through the shadows. No need to be afraid, she told her pounding heart as she eyed the swaying branches overhead. Hadn’t she lived alone, night after night, in the swamps? She’d lived with bobcats, wolves. But this was unknown territory. She knew what to expect from the wilds of nature.

The streets were deserted. It was late, and there were no lights inside the houses. She could hear the gentle chirping of crickets, but it was still awfully quiet. A dog barked somewhere, and a night bird trilled high above, as if letting her know she was not truly alone in God’s kingdom.

Only a little way more, she thought as she rounded a corner. Abby would be asleep, thank heaven. She didn’t want to answer any questions. She hurried on, clutching her shawl around her shoulders.

Suddenly, Holly froze. Was that a scream?

The sound died as quickly as it had been born, and Holly turned toward the thicket to her left. There was, she recalled, an old cemetery there, just up on the knoll. A church had stood there, destroyed during the war. Only the graves remained. Had the scream come from there?

She continued to stand there. What to do? Continue on her way, or find out if anything was wrong?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped cautiously into the thicket. Fear burned in the pit of her stomach. That scream had come from someone in trouble, of that she was sure. To continue on her way would be turning her back on a person in need. Grandpa had always said it was wrong to deny help to anyone if help could be given—even if that meant danger to yourself. “You gotta live with yourself,” he’d told her so many times. “How can you do that if you turn your back on a fellow human being? It’ll come home to you, too. One day you’ll want help, and somebody will turn away from you.”

Holly made her way carefully through the bushes, sorry that her elegant dress was being damaged. Nothing to be done about that. Instinct was driving her onward. She paused, listening.

There was a sound like scuffling, struggling. Very carefully, so as not to make any noise, she crept forward until she reached the top of the knoll. Very faintly, she could see the dark outlines of tombstones.

Then, horrified, she saw several men grappling with something on the ground. There were three, no, four men. Their voices, low and guttural, floated to her on the night wind.

“I say kill the bitch and be done with it. She ’bout clawed my eye out.”

“Hell, don’t kill her till I have my turn. I got my yen up, and I ain’t stickin’ it in no dead nigger.”

“Barney, you shit, hurry up. It’s my turn.”

Raw, savage rage overrode Holly’s fright. They were raping the woman on the ground. She leaped from the brush and ran toward them, screaming.

The attackers sprang to their feet, startled, and their victim began to crawl toward Holly.

All but one of the men fled right then. The remaining man glared at Holly in the moonlight. How ridiculous he looked, his trousers down around his ankles.

He yanked up his trousers, his burning eyes never leaving her face. “Holly Maxwell, you’re gonna get yourself killed one day.”

Her hand flew to her throat just as the girl reached her.
He knew her name.
But how? She squinted, finally recognizing him as the man who had approached her earlier that day.

Was this, she asked herself sickly, the kind of person who considered himself kindred spirit to Holly Maxwell? Dear God, no! “You!” she hissed. “You disgusting…”

“Yeah, it’s me, girlie, and I promise you on the grave of whoever the bastard is that’s under my feet here, you’re gonna pay for this. We gave you a chance to be one of us, but you turned up your nose. Now you signed your death warrant by buttin’ in where things don’t concern you.”

The girl was climbing to her feet, Holly holding her hand to steady her.

Holly called out to the man, “Someone heard me scream and they’re coming—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he called as he turned to run into the woods beyond. “I ain’t goin’ to jail over no nigger. But I’ll take care of you later, bitch.”

“Are you all right? Can you walk?” Holly asked the girl. “We’ve got to get out of here now. I was lying. Nobody’s coming. We’re on our own.”

“Yes, yes, let’s go,” the young Negro girl moaned. “I’ll make it.”

Holly led the way back the way she had come as the girl continued to sob quietly, choking out her words. “I ain’t hurt too bad, missy. I’s bleedin’, but them devils ain’t got the best of Sally.”

But, Holly thought dizzily, the girl was naked, and at least one of them had had his way with her.

“Just a little ways,” Holly told her. “If they do come back now, we can run into the street and scream and surely to God someone will hear us.”

Just as they crashed through the last remaining bushes of the thicket, the sound of hoofbeats reached them. Dragging Sally, Holly stumbled into the street, waving her arms and yelling.

Scott Colter reined in his horse and swung out of the saddle in an instant. “Holly, what in hell—?”

She told him, the words tumbling forth, and his face tightened to a grim mask as he drew his side arm and moved away from her toward the knoll.

“No need,” she said. “They ran. They’re gone.” Suddenly, she gave way to the bubbling hysteria she’d been fighting. Hot tears of rage spilled as she cried. “What has happened to this town? My God, can’t you do anything? It’s your
job
to keep peace! Young girls are being raped in cemeteries while you go traipsing after your women!”

Scott might have laughed over this sudden admission of jealousy. “Let’s go,” he said tightly to Sally.

Holly followed close behind Scott and Sally as the three of them walked the short distance to Abby’s house. Scott knew better than to ask the injured girl if she could ride. She couldn’t. When she stumbled, he picked her up and carried her, giving his horse’s reins to Holly. She led the horse, her eyes on Scott all the way.

Chapter Eleven

Sally stirred restlessly in her sleep, now and then moaning softly in her nightmares.

Holly had given in to weariness and dozed in the chair next to the bed. Suddenly she awakened, alert to the horror of the night before. She leaned over and gently touched Sally. “You’re safe…safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Sally’s lashes fluttered open. Large, brown eyes mirrored stark terror. Holly had seen that same expression so many times in the eyes of a deer in that last second before a bullet killed it. She hated that look, always had, refusing to kill an animal if any other source of food could be found.

“Please believe me,” Holly said softly. “You’re safe, and no one is going to hurt you. I’m your friend.”

Sally glanced warily around the room, the panic slowly disappearing. Her stare fixed on Holly as she asked tremulously, “Who are you? Where am I?”

Holly smiled and tucked the sheet closely under the girl’s chin. She explained about Abby’s house and told her, “My name is Holly Maxwell. If you don’t remember everything, it’s just as well.”

Sally struggled to sit up, but Holly gently pushed her back. “I do remember what happened,” Sally declared, “most of it, anyway. I got to get out of here. They’ll come back for me and they’ll kill me!” Her voice broke, and she pressed her fists to her mouth to keep from screaming.

Holly quickly reached for the glass of brandy she had placed on the bedside table. “Drink this,” she urged, “and you aren’t going anywhere. I told you, you’re safe. Those men wouldn’t dare come after you. And you’re going to be fine. A doctor examined you and said all you need is rest.” She did not tell her about the torn flesh the doctor had discovered. She would recall everything soon enough.

Sally downed the brandy, then flashed Holly a guilty look. “I was tryin’ to steal from ’em, and they caught me, and that’s why they was doin’ what they was doin’.”

Holly was aghast, not at the girl’s confession, but that she could rationalize so easily. “Stealing or not, they had no right to hurt you, Sally.”

Sally was quick to inform her matter-of-factly, “Their kind does that, ’specially since the war. They say us freed slaves are gettin’ uppity, that there’s only one way to handle us—hang the men and rape the women.”

Holly was furious. “What could you possibly have been stealing from trash like that?”

Sally glanced away. “Food. I ain’t had nothin’ to eat in three days. I been travelin’ all around, lookin’ for work, but there ain’t no work for freed slaves, ’specially women. I just got so hungry that when I smelled somethin’ cookin’, I followed my nose. I saw them men campin’ up by the ruins of the old church. Some taters were lyin’ to one side, and since they was busy drinkin’, I figured they wouldn’t see me when I sneaked out from the bushes to grab me some. But they did see me.” She winced. “You know what happened then. Now I gotta get out of here, ’cause they’ll be after me.”

Holly stared at her in wonder. Sally was a pretty girl, with skin the color of rich, brown coffee, and dark eyes framed by thick lashes. She could see that the sheets framed a bony body. Holly shook her head. “Don’t worry, they won’t be back. And we’re going to get something to eat. I’ll tell Abby you’re awake. She’s very nice.”

Suspiciously, Sally asked, “Why you doin’ this for me, missy? I’m a nigra.”

Holly took a deep breath. “It doesn’t make any difference to me, Sally. You’re a human being, and you need help. What other reason do you suppose I need?”

She found Abby in the parlor with Claudia, and immediately they began firing questions at her.

“What do you plan to do with that girl?” Abby wanted to know. “I know you mean well, Holly, but really, dear, a Negro in my house. In one of my beds. I just don’t know…”

“Whatever made you do such a thing?” Claudia cried. “Why, God forbid, it could have been
you
those men attacked. Whyever did you leave the party without an escort?”

Holly was not about to defend herself at that moment. Addressing Abby, she said, “Please, would you fix her something to eat? She hasn’t eaten in three days. She’s starving.”

“Well, of course, I’ll feed her,” Abby sighed, “but then what? I’m sorry, but she can’t stay here. Dr. Grant didn’t like being called out in the middle of the night to look after a Negro.”