Promise Bridge (30 page)

“I want this slave released, Father,” Colt said, pointing toward James. “Twitch refuses to abide by my command.”

“That’s what brought you back? An insignificant slave matter? I thought perhaps you had come to your senses and returned to take your rightful place among us.”

“Purebred here thinks his word holds more power than mine.”

Uncle Mooney grabbed Twitch by the collar. “Do not disrespect a son in his father’s eyes. I warned you not to use that term when referring to Colton.”

“Colt riled me up is all,” Twitch grumbled. “Treadin’ in territory that’s mine, and talkin’ to me as if I was his field hand.”

“I want James released before Twitch tortures him to death,” Colt said, undeterred.

“Son, you are cursed with your mother’s sympathetic nature, which does not bode well in the activities of a plantation. The slaves are held accountable for offenses and indiscretions.”

“What is he guilty of?” Colt demanded.

“He’s guilty of betrayin’ me,” Twitch snapped. “Ain’t no offense worse than disloyalty to a master.”

“I am more his master than you,” Colt exploded with more fiery passion than I had ever witnessed from him. “This is a family discussion between a son and father.”

“That’s right.” Twitch grinned. “So maybe you should stay out of it.”

Colt sprang at Twitch, who landed a blow to Colt’s jaw. Uncle Mooney wedged himself between the two and pried them apart. “I will not have the two of you at odds over every issue and decision. You must come to an understanding and find common ground.”

“The only common ground we share is our piss-ass hatred for each other,” Twitch laughed. Colt wiped the blood trickling down his chin and straightened his disheveled coat.

“Father, I am asking you to cut this slave down. If you still regard me as your rightful son, you will grant this request without hesitation.” Tension bent in the air between the three men until Uncle Mooney’s decree broke the standoff.

“I suppose James has been sufficiently punished.” Uncle Mooney put his hand on Twitch’s shoulder to appease him. “No point in adding to our misfortune. We shall work the debit out of him in sweat.” When Twitch stared at him without response, Uncle Mooney called over his shoulder, “Willy Jack, cut him loose.”

Willy Jack complied by taking a suckering knife from the shelf. With one stroke against the rope, James dropped to ground. Colt rushed to examine his wounds, and although James’s groan was gut-wrenching, it served as proof that his life had been spared. Twitch glared at me with tightly restrained fury. When Uncle Mooney turned his back, Twitch mouthed the words
you’ll pay
. His vicious contempt cut through me like a midwinter gale. I looked away, but felt his seething eye locked on me, holding me hostage.

“Miz Hannah, Miz Hannah,” cried out a voice from the murky mist blanketing the fields at my back. “Hurry, Miz Hannah, it’s comin’! You gots’ta come quick! It’s comin’!”

My heart twisted when Elijah broke through the haze. Puffing wildly, he struggled to catch his breath, all the while pointing toward Mud Run. Upon hearing his son’s cry, Winston came sprinting around the carriage house. I tossed aside the shovel and gripped Elijah’s shoulders to calm him, but it was Winston’s reassuring voice that settled the boy. Taking several deep gasps, Elijah finally sputtered out the message he was sent to deliver.

“Mama says to fetch you fast as I can. Livetta is in a bad way. Granny Morgan says de baby is comin’, come hell or high water.”

“Livetta . . .” James moaned as he struggled to upright himself, only to fold back onto his knees. Colt eased him across the ground, then looked over at me. “Go to Livetta. I shall stay and tend to James. Elijah, bucket me some water as quick as you can.”

Elijah darted off toward the well while Winston and I rushed back to the carriage. I could only imagine the displeased reactions displayed by Twitch and Uncle Mooney as I left, but it was too late to care and too urgent to pretend. Anyway, I was already suspect in their eyes.

Winston ran the horses at full gallop on the darkened road back to Hillcrest. Blessed with expertise, he knew the road well and got us there swiftly. We ran down through Mud Run until the light of Livie’s cabin came into view. Her screams echoing through the hickories were much like those of James: primal, agonizing, and utterly terrifying. I burst in her door to the sight of Livie squatting open-legged on the floor. Granny Morgan and Esther Mae braced her on opposite sides, rubbing her back and offering encouragement.

“Keep on bearin’ down, girl,” Granny guided with an air of experience. “Baby be comin’ quicker than applesauce through a press.”

Livie was oblivious to my entrance. Between howls, the muscles bulging in her face and neck barely had time to unknot. Perspiration and tears soaked the nightshirt she had pulled up around her waist, exposing her bare legs and haunches. Never having witnessed childbirth, I lurched at the sight of watery blood dripping beneath her onto a tousled blanket. Esther Mae waved me over, then positioned me in place next to Livie.

“Let Livetta hold on to you while I fetch de water warmin’ over de fire.”

“Esther Mae, I have never—”

“Don’t matter, chile. Nature is doin’ most of de work,” she said, nudging me closer to Livie’s side. “Livetta will do what needs doin’. We is jes’ lendin’ a hand. Now go on so I can welcome dis baby wit’ a nice soothin’ bath, neither too hot nor cold. Every chile got de right to come into dis world fussed upon, even if dat right is stealed away from him in de next breath.”

As a haunting wail erupted from Livie, I had no time to dwell on my inexperience with childbirth. All I could do was hold firm to her clenched hand and brace her as she wriggled and pushed. In the midst of her struggle, she glanced at me for comfort and reassurance. I loved her too much to offer empty words, so I spoke from my heart.

“You will be a wonderful mother, Liv. Soon, your baby will be snug in your arms, and all the love you have in your beautiful heart will be shared with a new life.”

“I can’t push no mo’, Hannah,” she said, panting with exhaustion. “Where’s my James?”

“You can do it, Livie. You are the strongest person I know. Think of all you have overcome. Because of you, I no longer sit back and watch the world as if I have no say in my fate. I dare to live as I see fit. My strength and daring grew out of knowing you. Allow me to give strength back to you now. Don’t worry about James. He is with Colt, and is counting on me to stand in his place. Now, hold on to me, and we shall do this together.”

Of course, I had the easy part, but my encouragement seemed to breathe new life into Livie. Her eyes grew determined and she shifted her position so that when her body contracted again, she used its force to her advantage. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Thar’s de head,” sang out Granny Morgan. “Keep goin’, girl.”

Sure enough, the bulge between Livie’s legs parted to expose the dark, matted hair of a baby finding its way into the world. I gasped in amazement. Another push revealed puffy eyes, and soon a crinkled nose could be made out within the slick mucus covering the head. Esther Mae eased the baby down onto the blanket as it slipped from Livie’s body. I sobbed with joy. Foolish as it sounds, I could not believe a baby had appeared out of nowhere. Livie slumped against me, crying weary tears and reaching to touch the miracle that enraptured her as much as it did me. “It’s a boy,” she sniffled. “I have a son.”

Granny tied a strip of rawhide around the cord that connected the baby to Livie, while Esther Mae tenderly rinsed his yellowish coating until the beautiful chestnut hue of Livie’s firstborn glistened in the firelight. Livie gave one last twist to finish her part of the birthing; then we cleaned her up and settled her onto her mattress. I sat on the edge of Livie’s bed, watching her nuzzle and nurse the contented child. When Livie dozed off, I stroked the baby’s soft hair and traced his delicate fingers until he joined his mother in slumber. When Granny and Esther Mae tiptoed from the cabin, I pulled a rocker in front of the fire and let the flickering embers lull me into sleep.

Waking to the soft wail of a hungry infant stirred a longing within me. Livie hummed sweetly as the child suckled her breast, making the previous night’s struggle a distant memory. They were propped together on her bed, and I marveled at how naturally she fell into the role of mother. I moved to a chair at the side of her bed.

“You look beautiful, Livie. How are you feeling?”

“My body is as wrung out as a springtime washrag,” she said, gazing down at her son. “But mostly I feel blessed.”

“Have you given him a name?”

“I would like to name him fo’ his daddy, but I ain’t gonna do nothin’ till James comes home. We gonna settle on a name together.” Livie then looked at me with apprehension glazing her pained eyes. “How bad is it, Hannah? If James ain’t here, it means dey beat him lame, don’t it?”

“We got to him as quickly as we could, Liv,” I said, stroking my hand up the baby’s tiny arm and across her hand. “But James suffered a great deal of punishment at Twitch’s hand. Colt was treating his wounds when Elijah came for me.”

Heavy tears dripped down Livie’s cheeks, baptizing the soft curls of her child. “James had nothin’ to do with them slaves in the shed. He didn’t even know dey was there.”

“Even if Twitch suspects the possibility, he does not have proof of James or anyone else planning a rescue. My guess is that Willy Jack is responsible for keeping watch over the shed, and to save his own hide, he convinced Twitch the shackles were made with imperfections to aid any slave meant to be anchored by them.”

Livie pulled the sleeping baby closer to her. “Oh, what have I done, bringin’ this sweet chile into a life so harsh and cruel?”

Several curt taps on the door disrupted my attempt to console her. I went to the door expecting to welcome some neighboring Runians. However, my heart sank when I opened the door and was met by the hard scowl of Aunt Augusta.

Chapter 30

“I
did not hear you ride in last night,” she said, stepping inside the cabin. “Nor were you at breakfast this morning.”

“I returned quite late.” I held my composure steady while I sorted out a half-truth to present to her. “On a whim, I changed my plans and had Winston drive me to Lows Hollow to call on Colt. He was quite pleased and mildly homesick, so I talked him into coming home for a visit. By the time we delivered him to West Gate, you had retired for the evening. Near dawn, Esther Mae brought word that Livie had delivered a son, so I rushed down to check on their health.”

“Hmm, a boy.” She nodded, casting her eyes down on Livie. “Well done.” She tugged the blanket open to study the baby’s wriggling body. Her matter-of-fact actions made it apparent that she had not come for a confrontation with me, but as was customary, she came to check on the condition of a slave who had given birth. Although the new slave child did not fall under her domain, she seemed pleased. No doubt her calculating mind knew the advantage and value in the addition of any male offspring.

“Livetta, it is our practice here at Hillcrest to allow a lying- in period of two weeks for new mothers. Esther Mae and Tessie will assist you, if needed. At the end of two weeks, you shall return to your duties without restriction. As long as the child is suckling, you may bring him to the house. He is to be kept in the kitchen or in the side yard, as weather dictates. Since Hannalore is your mistress, I will leave it to her to give the child a name.”

Aunt Augusta folded the blanket back in place. She turned to make leave, hesitating in the doorway without looking at me. “I shall grant you time to sit with Livetta, but return promptly for supper. I will send an invitation for Colton to join us.”

I rocked the baby while Livie rested. Tessie came and went several times, tending to Livie’s more personal needs. Winston stopped by with some logs for the fire, and Esther Mae brought a plate of corn fritters and molasses, with strict instructions for Livie to eat every last crumb.

“A mama with a suckling chile gots’ta eat enough to pass strength on to the little one. I’ll fetch you some buttermilk.”

I asked Winston if Elijah had returned from West Gate. He shook his head discreetly, so as not to upset Livie, but the lines in his face deepened with concern as he left to attend his chores. The shadows of the day grew longer, and Livie’s worry over James’s fate swirled closer to the surface, even though she concentrated her thoughts on caring for her baby. Never knowing Twitch to concede defeat without a fight, I wondered if Colt was able to hold him at bay once Uncle Mooney left the two of them alone. Then, as if my thoughts willed him to me, I heard Colt’s voice outside the cabin.

“Run and open the door for me, Elijah.” His voice was heavenly to my ears.

Livie and I looked at each other, but before we could speak, Elijah stumbled through the door. Behind him followed Colt and Winston, with James slung like a scarecrow between them. Livie struggled to her feet and met them halfway across the room. She cupped her hands around James’s swollen jaw and smiled tearfully. “Well, now. Look what de cat dragged in.” She draped her arm around his waist and helped him to the bed. She picked up the infant so James could be positioned facedown; his exposed back appeared hacked apart like butchered venison. “Be gentle with him,” Livie cooed, sliding a satchel stuffed with straw under his head. Winston pulled the cradle from the corner and pushed it alongside the bed where James’s arm hung free. Livie placed the child in the cradle so James could look down at him. Kneeling, Livie pressed her cheek to her husband’s forehead.

“James, this here is yo’ son. I want to give him the name of his strong, brave daddy.”

James winced as he lifted his arm into the cradle and touched the cheek of the alert child looking up at him. “My son is gonna start his life with somethin’ all his own. Instead of naming him James, we will call him Jameson.”

I felt privileged to watch the birth of a family. However, the contrasting images of young Jameson lying faceup, squirming with eagerness, was strikingly at odds with the sight of James lying broken and facedown. The bittersweet scene reminded me how dire life remained in the quarters. It was then that I noticed Elijah step toward the corner and wipe his sleeve across his tearful face, unable to stop his sorrow from spilling over.

The rafters shook when Twitch kicked the door open behind me. Uncle Mooney and Willy Jack marched in behind him. Startled by the commotion, Jameson filled his lungs and let loose the first frightened cry of his newborn life.

Colt stepped forward to face them. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

Uncle Mooney came forward to look at the child, ignoring Livie, who was perched protectively over her two men. He reached out with the tip of his cane and tilted the cradle to study the frantic baby. “A boy,” he said, glancing at me with his face crinkled into a wretched grin. “Based on James’s behavior, I have revoked his privilege to leave the plantation. I want him returned to West Gate at once.”

“No,” Livie cried out. “Please, Massa Reynolds, don’t take James from us.”

“Father, I thought you sided with me,” Colt said, distressed by the turn of events.

“There are only two sides, Colton: them and us. I granted your wish to end the beating, but there are other ways to punish the offender.”

“Is this necessary?” Colt pleaded cautiously as Twitch and his headman hauled James up off the bed. James grimaced, but refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him beg for mercy. Antagonizing Uncle Mooney any further would make things worse for James, so I motioned for Colt to ease his protest. In a few weeks, tempers would die down and we would have better luck in convincing them James’s health and contentment would produce more profits all the way around. How quickly the family portrait was shattered along with Livie’s heart.

“Jameson
?
How did you come to settle on Jameson?” Aunt Augusta did not hide her distaste for the name. “It sounds territorial to me.”

“I think it’s quite clever,” Colt piped in.

“Well, it is as good as any, I suppose,” Aunt Augusta relinquished. “Next time I would prefer you name the slaves in a traditional manner.”

“I did not name—”

“Have another biscuit,” Colt said, shoving a basket toward me to shut me up, but I refused to be scolded into silence. Tired of biting my tongue for the sake of decorum, I continued.

“I did not name their child,” I stated, to Colt’s chagrin. “As is every parent’s right, James and Livie chose a name meaningful to them.”

“How can you speak with such rebellion?” Aunt Augusta gasped while pointing her fork in my direction. “Such sentiment should not be thought, much less spoken aloud.”

The tempest of outrage swirling within me began breaking free of its harness. “Were you born cruel, Aunt Augusta, or is it an acquired taste?”

“Hannalore!”

Colt tossed his napkin on the table. “Hannah, perhaps we should take a walk. It has been an emotional day.”

Aunt Augusta shook with anger. “I have indulged you in your closeness with Livetta because you have been a lonely child, but you must abide by the limits.”

“Friendship does not have limits or boundaries.”

“It does in this case,” she spat back. “Crossing the line will bring outrage upon you.”

“Don’t you mean it will bring outrage on
you
?”

“On all of us!” she shouted. “Put an end to it, or I shall!”

“Disown me if you must, but I will no longer live the facade of indecency.”

Colt tried offering a voice of reason. “We all have facades to live with. Let us talk about them reasonably before our words do irreparable damage. Maybe we can find common ground to build on together. Don’t you agree, Augusta? We are not so different, really.”

I glared at Aunt Augusta, and deflected Colt’s attempt at compromise by declaring my independence. “I am nothing like her, and proud to say so.”

Aunt Augusta went ashen. She wavered slightly, then waved us to the door. “Perhaps a walk in the evening air is best. Colton, take her away.”

“Augusta, please . . .”

“Go, Colton,” she said, recovering her bite. “And she is not to go to Mud Run. I forbid it.”

Happy to take my leave, I stomped from the dining room and out onto the porch. I had walked the length of the yard before Colt caught up with me. “Calm down, Hannah. You mustn’t push too hard. There is a balance of things you don’t understand.”

“I am going to Livie.”

Colt took my arm with a roughness not of his nature. “See here, Hannah. You have asked a hundred things of me, and I have stayed loyal and true. But if you go down there now, I will consider it a personal betrayal.”

“I shall not be forbidden by Aunt Augusta . . . or by you.”

“Listen to me,” he said, shaking me in frustration. “You have aided a known runaway more than once. You actively participated in releasing the bounty of a dangerous slave catcher.”

“They were stolen from their families!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Colt snapped. “And don’t forget, Livetta is a runaway as well, living right under their noses. Property of a man we illegally medicated and ran off as a drunkard.”

“I have no regrets.”

He yanked me closer and hissed, “No regrets? None at all?”

“No, not even one.” I delivered my answer with bristling callousness, causing him to release his grip.

He stepped back and drew in a strained breath. “Give consideration to the outcome of drawing attention to Livetta at a time when so many suspicions have been raised. Tempers are hot, and questions unanswered. If you are indeed her friend, then do not bring trouble to her door. Esther Mae will send Tessie to stay with Livetta until I can sort out a way to convince my father to let James return to Mud Run. We must tread carefully and not push too hard. If they ever filled in the gaps, we would all be found out.”

The spark of flint a half dozen paces to our left tore open the night as a small ball of flame lifted to reveal Willy Jack’s expressionless face. He laid the flame to his pipe and took two deep puffs, releasing the aroma of sweet tobacco into the air.

I did not need Colt’s hand squeezing over mine to tell me this was bad, but his grip betrayed his panic. Willy Jack was close enough to have heard our conversation, a conversation that left nothing unrevealed.

My instinct was to remain nonchalant, even though my insides had twisted head to toe. “How long have you been standing there, Willy Jack?”

“Long enough.” He grinned with the pipe clenched in his teeth.

“What, exactly, did you hear?” Colt said in a tone that made me think he might consider killing Willy Jack.

“Oh, I hear lots o’ things . . . here, there, and everywhere.”

Colt pulled a small pistol from inside his coat. “I could shoot you if I felt threatened. Why are you beyond West Gate’s limits? That alone is cause for severe punishment.”

Willy Jack paid him no mind and continued talking as if thinking aloud. “Yas’sah, I hear lots o’ things. Most talk I keeps to myself; den thar’s some talk that be so troublin’, I jes’ gots’ta repeat it.”

Colt cocked the pistol and pointed it toward Willy Jack’s glistening forehead, but it did not stop him from continuing. “So when I hear somethin’ that needs repeatin’, I jes’ go off on a walk in de dark and talk to de wind. Can’t help it if de wind carries dem words to ears dat know what to do wit’ it.”

I noticed my heart had stopped pounding; my fear was replaced with curiosity. I touched Colt’s arm, and he lowered the gun. “Willy Jack, what are you going on about?”

“Jes’ like last night, after I cut James from de rafters,” he said, puffing anxiously. “Marse be mighty furious dat Massa Reynolds let Mista Colt have his say-so. But Massa Reynolds tol’ Marse dat was jes’ fo’ show, so Mista Colt didn’t fuss. Massa said he is gonna make it up to Marse by doin’ somethin’ worse. Somethin’ to show de lot o’ you de way o’ things.”

“Is that why you are here?” I said. “To give us warning?”

He looked me deep in the eyes. “Dey is comin’ fo’ de baby.”

“My God, he wouldn’t,” Colt muttered in disbelief.

“Massa Reynolds say de chile belongs to him. He say James never been no trouble till he married up with Livetta. He tol’ Marse to sell de baby south. He say dat will break de both of ’em worse than strikin’ a whip. Marse say when Mista Colt finds out he got de upper hand after all, it’s as good as tying
Mista Colt
to the whippin’ post too.”

“He cannot sell a newborn away from its mother,” I said, hoping to bide time. “The child could not survive. No one will throw away money on a doomed child.”

Colt’s expression told me I was wrong. “Most plantations have at least one slave who has given birth within a year. As long as she can draw mother’s milk, any woman can suckle a child.”

“When do they plan on taking Jameson?”

Willy Jack stared off toward West Gate. “I best be gettin’ back. I walked as far as I can go. I had my mama took from me, and no chile should be without his mama. Jes’ needed to set dem words off on de breeze. No, sah, I can’t help if de wind carries dem words to ears dat knows what to do wit’ it.” Willy Jack doused his pipe and hesitated. “Ain’t never walkin’ this way again, so don’t ’spect it no more.” Then like the breeze he spoke of, Willy Jack disappeared into the shadows.

Colt and I stood in disbelief, stunned that vicious Willy Jack had warned us of what Twitch had in store for Livie’s child. “Do you think he is telling us the truth?”

“He has nothing to gain by lying,” Colt said, running a hand through his hair. “Besides, he undoubtedly overheard our conversation. He could have us by our throats right now if his intentions were against us.”

I thought about the welts and bruises marking Willy Jack. He was not used to having the whip put to him. Twitch had turned on him in anger and would have happily killed him had Willy Jack not shifted the blame to James. Perhaps being on the wrong side of a lashing had shifted his loyalty a bit, but the
how
and
why
mattered not. It was
what
Willy Jack revealed that tightened a knot in my stomach.