A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy (13 page)

Blytheville, Missouri

“Who was that?”

“I don’ know. Just ride.” The terror in his voice fueled her own fear. She kicked Roman to a dead-out gallop. The clatter of horses’ hooves sounded behind them. Was someone following them?

No trees, nothing to lose them in. Nowhere to hide.

“Turn off here,” Daniel yelled in her ear, the wind nearly snatching the words and flinging them back before she could hear. She pulled back on the reins, and Roman slowed quickly enough to send her up on his neck. When he turned, they fought to stay mounted, even though they felt as if they were at the wrong end of a catapult.

“How far?”

“Dat barn up ahead.”

Ignoring the dog barking at their heels, they veered around behind the gable-roofed barn and plowed to a stop. Roman sounded like a bellows in full operation, and Jesselynn knew she sounded about the same.

“What in heaven’s name was that all about?” While she tried to quiet her breathing so she could hear if they were still being followed, the growling dog did nothing to help.

“Who’s that out there?” The bellow came from the direction of the house.

The dog upped the volume, as if calling his master to come help.

“Daniel!”

“Some white man said I was with the man they done hanged.” Between his terror and the barking dog, Jesselynn wanted to clap her hands over her ears.

“You were with what man? We just got to town.”

“I knows dat, but he started comin’ after me, and dat’s when I hid under dat house to wait for you.”

The dog raised the pitch on his bark.

“Shaddup, you mangy cur.” The owner of the voice rolled around the corner of the barn, rifle at the ready across his broad chest and broader belly. He pointed the rifle at the two on the mule. “Well, let’s y’all jist get on down off’n that there mule and answer me some questions. Me ‘n the deputy, that is.”

The man coming around the other side of the barn wore a shiny star on the lapel of his leather vest and a smile that sent shivers up and down Jesselynn’s back.

“Now, boys, just ease on down to the ground so’s we can talk all friendly like.”

“Where I come from, we don’t call pointin’ a rifle at a stranger very friendly.”

“Well, now, you might if’n one of the strangers was wanted for murder.” The deputy used one finger to tip his felt hat farther back on his head.

Jesselynn shook her head as she slid off the mule, shielding Daniel by taking a step forward right in front of him. “No way could Daniel here be wanted for murder. We just rode into town this afternoon, been on the road from Springfield for three days. We’re lookin’ for to find the best way to pick up the road to Independence.”

“Now, boy, why in the world should I believe what you say? A man back in Blytheville says yer slave was with the man who shot poor ol’ Avery. Shot ‘im in cold blood, he did.”

“I’m right sorry to hear that, but first of all, Daniel is not my slave but a freedman, and according to what I heard, the shooting happened over a week ago. We weren’t anywhere near here then.” Jesselynn made sure she sounded as Kentucky as possible and educated to boot. While she sounded as self-possessed as she was able to, her teeth had a heart-stopping desire to clack together. She hid her hands in her pockets to disguise their shaking.

“Well, son, I think we’ll let the judge decide that.” The deputy strode forward and grabbed Daniel by the upper arm. “Come along, boy.”

“No!” Jesselynn tried to step between them but got shoved out of the way for her efforts. When she reeled back against the mule’s shoulder, the dog growled and bumped her leg with his nose, teeth bared and hair raised along his back and shoulders. The urge to kick him made her foot twitch. “Call off your dog, mister, before I—”

“Before you what?” The man’s voice rumbled with laughter.

When Daniel hung back and sent her a terrified look over his shoulder, the deputy jerked him hard enough to make him stumble. For that he got a clout with the rifle stock.

“Marse Jesse! Don’ let dem take me!”

His cry nearly broke her heart. She started after the pair, but the dog grabbed hold of her pants leg, taking some skin with it.

Jesselynn turned and gave the dog a vicious chop with the side of her hand, right on his nose. The dog yipped and let go. Ignoring the burning in her calf, she started after the deputy, who was now tying a rope around Daniel’s chest, binding his arms straight down to his body.

“Hold ‘im there, Jason.”

The calm command brought the owner’s rifle to hand, and a bullet puffed the dirt a couple of feet in front of her.

“He’s done nothing wrong. He wasn’t even here.” But talking did no good as the deputy shook out a few lengths of rope and mounted his horse.

“Give me any more lip, and I drag ‘im to town. Take your pick.” He settled his hat down on his head and stared at Jesselynn.

God, help us. What do I do now?

“How ‘bout I ride into town with you and straighten this all out?” She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice.

“Suit yourself. Perhaps the judge’ll want to talk to you too.” The veiled threat worked. Her mouth went dry as a creek bed in August.

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “No more than I want to talk with him.” With a glare at the dog owner, she swung aboard Roman and followed the deputy around the barn and back out to the road. By now the sun had dipped appreciably lower, and all Jesselynn wanted to do was hightail it for their camp and get out of the area. But leaving Daniel was not even a thought. He would be with them when they hit the road north.

Two men met them on the road and fell in beside the deputy. Daniel trotted to keep up with the trotting horses, but the men in front of him paid him no more attention than if he’d been a cow. In fact, less.

Jesselynn brought Roman up beside Daniel. “Do you have your manumission papers?”

He shook his head. “Back at de camp. Put de papers in Meshach’s Bible.”

How many times had she told them they needed the papers on their person at all times? Slave traders wouldn’t let them go back to anywhere for their papers. But scolding him would do no good now. Most likely he’d been doing a good enough job of that himself.

“I’m heading back to camp then, but I’ll be in town as soon as I can get there. Just do what they tell you so they have no call to whip you.”

“Dey don’ need no call, Marse. Dey gonna whip dis poor nigger sure as de sun rise.”

Lord, let it only be a whipping. Please, God, not a hanging
.

“We’ll pray that not be so.”

“Hey, you, leave that boy alone.”

At the jerk on the rope that caused Daniel to stumble and nearly go down, Jesselynn dropped back. When they reached the main road, she turned east as they turned west. Digging her heels into the mule’s ribs, she slapped him with the reins too. “Hup, Roman, come on.”

A few minutes that seemed like hours later, she tore into camp and threw herself off the mule’s back before he came to a skidding stop. “They’ve got Daniel.” She tried to draw a breath and speak at the same time but only succeeded in making herself cough.

“Who got Daniel?” Meshach thumped her on the back to help her breathe.

“A deputy. Someone said Daniel was with a man who shot the owner of the store. They hung that man this afternoon in the center of town.” Jesselynn took the cup of water Jane Ellen handed her and guzzled it, water dripping unnoticed down her chin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed the cup back. “Thanks.” Turning to Meshach, she closed her eyes for a moment to get the facts straight. “They’ll hang him for certain if we don’t do something and do it fast.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out. If she didn’t calm down, she’d be worthless. “He says his papers are in your Bible. You get those, and I’ll get Daddy’s journal. That should prove who we are.”

“We take de wagon? Dey see we be travelin’.”

“Lawd, keep our Daniel safe.” Ophelia clasped her hands to her bosom and looked heavenward. Sammy, clinging to her skirt, set to whimpering, which brought out a quivering lower lip on Thaddeus.

“Here, let me take them babies.” Jane Ellen reached for Sammy and, after settling him on her hip, took Thaddeus’s hand. “We’ll go look for the ducks.”

“You want I should go too?” Aunt Agatha looked over her spectacles. “Might lend a note of propriety. I can show letters and things from Springfield. There are dates and such on them.”

Jesselynn wrinkled her brow in thought. “I think not at the moment.” The last thing she wanted to do was subject the rest of the family to any fracas in town. “Just pray that most of the folks have already gone home. There surely was a crowd there for the hangin’. You’da thought a circus came to town, such an air of jollity.” The thought still made her stomach clench. Even worse, she knew there wouldn’t be a trial and a formal hanging for a black boy like Daniel. Some group of men would just take him out to a tree or use the beam at the livery and string him up.

“All right, let’s harness up Roman and Chess. Benjamin, you make sure the rest of the horses are well grazed and watered. We might be leavin’ in a hurry. Ophelia, have supper ready and everything else packed up.” She glanced around the camp. No matter what, they were pushing out as soon as they had Daniel in tow.

She glanced over her shoulder as they left the camp. Aunt Agatha was sitting in her rocker, both boys in her lap while Jane Ellen and Ophelia were making biscuits for supper and some to harden for eating later on the trail. They looked so peaceful, as if no one was worried sick about Daniel, but she knew they were. Ophelia might be singing, but her songs were always prayers for the good Lord’s intervention in their lives.

Once in town she directed Meshach to the jail, where they tied up the team in the rear so no one would get too interested in the horse. Stepping down, they heard a
psst
.

“Marse Jesse, over here.” Daniel, one eye swollen closed and lower lip thick and split, waved at them from the barred window of the jail.

“How bad off are you?” Jesselynn stepped close so they could whisper.

“Dey ask me ‘bout dat man dey hung, and I don know nothin’ ‘bout him. Dey says I lyin’ and den dey hit me. Not too bad. Sheriff come in and make dem stop.”

Jesselynn breathed a sigh of relief. While the deputy had already made up his mind, perhaps the sheriff was a man of integrity. And the judge, if they could meet with him.

“I’m sorry, Daniel, I should never have brought you to town with me.”

“You don’t know ‘bout dis here man either.”

“I know, but—“ Jesselynn stopped. Crying over spilt milk never did anyone any good. “You just sit down and rest. We’ll take care of this.” She caught a nod from Meshach, and the two of them headed for the front door of the building. A sign above the heavy wooden door read
SHERIFF
in letters large enough to be seen from a distance. When they pushed it open, the deputy she’d encountered earlier sat behind the wooden desk drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar.

“I’d like to speak with the sheriff.” Jesselynn kept her voice even and polite, in spite of an urge to have Meshach pick the man up and throw him through the window, bars and all.

“He ain’t here.”

“I can see that. Where can I find him?”

“At home. He don’t like to be disturbed when he’s eatin’ his supper.” He waved the cigar for emphasis.

Jesselynn counted to five. Ten would take too much time and effort. “And where might his home be?”

“He’ll be back in an hour or so. Thataway I can go eat.”

Meshach shifted from one foot to the other. Jesselynn could feel his anger like something alive in the room.

The deputy could sense it too. Eyes slit, he shifted his gaze from one guest to the other. “I wouldn’t want to hurry him meself.” Slowly he lowered his boots to the floor and sat up straight, his elbows resting on the desk as if to prove his nonchalance.

“Since I heard the dead man had a trial, is there a judge in town?”

“Left on the stage yesterday.”

Jesselynn counted again. Why did everything seem to be against them?

The gleam in the deputy’s eye said he was enjoying their frustration.
He’s most likely the kind of man who pulled legs off live frogs when he was young. Thinks no more of treating black boys the same
.

“Thank you for your information. Now where did you say the sheriff lived?”

“I din’t.”

Meshach took a step forward and leaned toward the desk. His fists looked powerful enough to drop a horse with one blow.

“Ah, the sheriff lives two blocks over and three down, on Hawthorne. White house with green shutters.” The deputy pointed toward the west.

As they turned to leave, he added, “Don’t you go worryin’ ‘bout that nigger back there. After tomorrow there won’t be no more problem.”

Meshach pulled the door closed behind him with a thud big enough to shake the boards beneath their feet. “I surely do hopes the sheriff be a better man than that ‘un.”

“Me too, Meshach, me too. Tryin’ to figure out what he meant about no more problem scares me clear to Sunday.”

“Dis ‘bout as bad as Daniel in de lions’ den.”