A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy (7 page)

“Yes, of course, but stay right near. We have to be cautious so we are not found out.”

He pushed himself to his feet and staggered a bit before getting his balance, then limped outside, bracing himself on the wall with one hand. One by one the others followed except for the woman, who had yet to move. The men returned with Meshach herding them.

“Breakfast ready?”

“Yes. Call Jane Ellen and the boys.”

“Dey wid Phelia down at de creek. Sammy hate him face washed.”

“In that cold water, I don’t blame him.” Jesselynn filled wooden trenchers with the mush and the men dug in with their fingers. When she handed them each a hot biscuit, one stared at it as though he’d seen gold.

“Thankee, suh.” The others chorused their appreciation, emptied their trenchers, and eyed the kettle.

“As soon as the others eat, you can have the rest.” She chose to chew on a piece of dried venison. The sight of their hunger turned her off mush.

While the family ate, she laid a hand on the sleeping woman’s cheek. Sure enough, she had a fever, and her breathing seemed labored. Jesselynn set Ophelia to boiling up some willow bark tea, and taking warm water and a cloth, she washed the woman’s face, shoulders, and arms. In one hand she found clenched a bit of meat from supper the night before.

“What is her name?” She looked to the men who now seemed much more lively.

“Sarah. Dey already have her befo’ me,” the light-skinned youth answered, and the others nodded.

“Has she been sick long?”

“Him kick her in belly. She lose baby.”

Jesselynn didn’t want to know who
him
was. Once more she was grateful her men had done what they felt necessary.

“When did that happen?”

“Two, three days ago.” At least the boy knew that many numbers.

“She too sick to walk, so we stay in one camp,” one of the other men added.

Jesselynn and Ophelia exchanged glances and set to making things better for poor beaten Sarah. They fixed a pallet for her, bathed her, and dipped broth from a kettle simmering with the rabbits Daniel had caught in his snares. Her eyes fluttered open one moment, and a smile lit her face. She drank the broth and fell right back to sleep. They set Jane Ellen to tending the sick woman, and Jesselynn took the boys outside to play while the sun shone. The air crackled with cold, and frost still glittered near trees in the shade.

“They bad sick?” Thaddeus shook his head. “Jesse, you fix.” He looked up at her with eyes full of trust as he took her hand. “Find catepiwar?”

“Sorry, Thaddy—”

“Joshwa,” he corrected her absently as he moved leaves around, looking for fuzzy caterpillars.

“All right, Joshwa. The caterpillars have all gone to sleep for the winter in cocoons so they can become butterflies next summer.”

“Butterflies?” He looked all around as if expecting them to flutter by.

“No, not now. Next summer.”

“Want butterflies.”

“Sorry.” She chuckled at the look of intensity with which he glared at her. She shook her head. “I can’t help it. Many animals and insects go to sleep for the winter.”

He planted his fists on his hips and with legs spread looked so like his dead father that she caught her breath. He was Joshwa all right. They’d named him perfectly.

“Here, let’s build a house with these sticks. Help me stack them for the walls, like a cabin.” She set the sticks on top of each other to form a log cabin. What she wouldn’t give for one right now. But to care for all these, it would have to be huge.

Thaddy had the walls several sticks up when Sammy stepped right in the middle of it. With a howl, Thaddy shoved Sammy smack on his rear. Sammy responded with a louder howl. Meshach scooped both boys up under his arms and strode down the hill with them, threatening to dump them both in the ice-cold creek if they didn’t hush.

Jesselynn got to her feet and dusted her hands off on her britches. They’d not heard any more artillery fire, so maybe the battle ended the day before. She could hear the boys still giggling. She’d have to talk with Thaddeus about his temper. Stopping, she counted out the days. Why, he had a birthday in a few weeks. He would be three. “Little Marse,” as Meshach called him, should have a present of some sort for his birthday. Her mind flipped back to Twin Oaks. Birthdays had always been important celebrations in their family. Lucinda would bake a three-layer frosted cake. Lighter than air were Lucinda’s cakes.

Jesselynn’s mouth watered at the memory. Would she ever taste one of Lucinda’s lemon cakes again? She dusted her hands and returned to the cave for her writing materials. While everyone was busy elsewhere, now was a good time to answer the precious letters. They could take them to the post office next time she went to Aunt Agatha’s.

By the time she finished, the sun rode close to its zenith and Ophelia was calling her name.

“She gettin’ weaker not stronger.”

Jesselynn knelt by the sick woman. “She lost too much blood, I imagine. Poor thing. Come now, Sarah, you must try to drink more broth.” She held a cup to the woman’s mouth and propped up her head with the other hand.

Sarah drank three or four swallows, then tipped her head away.

“No will to live.” Jane Ellen wrung out another cloth and laid it over the sick woman’s forehead.

“I know. Can’t say as I blame her.”

The men filed into the cave again as if they were still chained together and sat in a row by the fire. They’d given their names, but Jesselynn still had no idea who was who, other than the boy and Sarah.

That night Meshach gathered the fugitives around him and laid out his plan. They would go to the house in Springfield in the night. There, others would take them north to freedom. “But first you get strong enough for de trip.”

Jesselynn brought over the two shirts she’d made from the blanket. “Sorry, the other isn’t done yet. I have more piecing to do on it.”

The biggest man, Moses, brushed the nap of the shirt with a reverent hand. “I neber had such a good shirt.”

“Put it on.” She mimicked pulling it over her head. “That should help keep you warm. Now if only we had something for your feet.”

Ophelia had given them all hot water to wash with and then bandaged the sores that needed it. With the new shirts on, they looked almost human again, instead of like refuse left by the roadside.

“Marse Jesse?” The voice woke her in the middle of the night.

“Yes?”

“I think Sarah done gone home to be with the Lord.” Jane Ellen’s voice was muffled with tears. “I tried to keep her alive, Marse Jesse, I tried.”

“I know. You did all you could.” After checking to make sure the woman had truly left this world, Jesselynn covered the black woman’s face with the blanket. Rage at the cruelty of it all boiled red before her eyes.

Fighting tears herself, Jesselynn gathered Jane Ellen into her arms and rocked her until she slept. Glancing up, she saw one of the men watching her with a puzzled look.

Ah, if you only knew the whole story. What did it matter if they suspected she was Miss instead of Marse?

Did they bury those men? The ones they
 . . . Jesselynn slammed the door of her mind.

“De Lawd giveth and de Lawd taketh away. Blessed be de name of de Lawd.” Meshach raised his voice on the last words at the gravesite of Sarah. They didn’t even have a last name for the poor woman, only an idea of how terribly she’d been treated during the final days of her life.

Before she came to them.

Jesselynn made herself stay at the service, for politeness if nothing else. While Jane Ellen had tears running down her cheeks, none of the others had had time to much care about the deceased. Was death becoming such a commonplace thing that she couldn’t even summon up sadness? All the regret stemmed from not being able to save her.

“We’ll go tonight,” Meshach said as they walked back up the slope to the cave.

“I’ll come too. That way if we are stopped, I can say I’m taking my slaves in to work on my aunt’s house. No one can argue with that, and that’s what we will do if followed.” For a change, Meshach didn’t argue with her. She had hoped he would see the reason in her plan.

He’d spent the day breaking two of the new horses to the harness so they could leave the Thoroughbreds safe in the cave. Neither of the mares should be working now, and they surely didn’t want to use the stallions. The filly was getting big and heavy enough to train, but Jesselynn hated to break her to harness before the saddle. Chess and Roman had a kicking contest while out to pasture. They’d have to learn to get along, that was all.

“I loaded the wagon with wood too. Best we take some tools along if we be workin’ on de house.” His raised eyebrow told her he was teasing her.

“Good idea. I reckon we’ll look right proper.”

By afternoon the temperature was dropping again after two fairly warm days. Jesselynn took the two remaining deer hides and wrapped the men’s feet. Daniel had given the younger man his deerskin shirt, saying he could always make another. They shot deer aplenty.

The shirt he now wore of Meshach’s looked like a tent on his slender frame.

Thaddeus pointed at Daniel and giggled, setting Sammy off, which made Jane Ellen smile and the freed slaves actually laugh. Never had the cave heard such ringing laughter.

Jesselynn wished she could laugh. Lately it seemed that as tears had dried up, so had her laughter, blowing away like puffs of a dandelion. What if they were caught? Would her story hold up? Of course it would. It sounded perfectly plausible. But what if someone acted suspicious? Could she trust these men to carry out the deception if needed?

She was getting plenty of practice in shutting off disturbing questions. As her mother always said,
“One step at a time.”
Of course she had added something like
“God only lights the way ahead one step at a time.”
But Jesselynn was trying to ignore that last part.

Frost was already coating the ground when they hitched up the team and started off. The two-hour trip to town seemed to go on forever because they couldn’t see the landmarks. A sickle moon hung low in the west by the time the lights of Springfield came into view. Many houses were dark already, either the folks gone to bed or the house damaged too badly in the battle to use.

Since the Quaker house was close to the edge of town, Jesselynn halted the wagon under an oak tree that would have been good shade in the summer. Tonight its naked branches rattled in the rising wind.

“Now follow me like I said.” Meshach spoke softly. Within seconds they all disappeared into an alley running along the backs of the houses. Jesselynn gave them a few minutes head start and then drove her wagon on up the street, turning at the corner to pass the Quaker house. As she drew even with the barn, Meshach climbed back aboard the wagon, and they continued on until they reached Dummont’s store. Quickly they unloaded the wood, stacking it behind the building. Jesselynn stuck a note into the doorframe telling who left the wood, and they headed back out of town.

They’d driven for some time before Jesselynn said, “Now I feel I can breathe again.” She slapped the reins, and the horses picked up a fast trot. If they loped, the wagon might fall apart for sure. By the time they arrived back at the ridge, the moon had set and clouds hid the stars.

“Snow.” Meshach shivered as he unhooked the traces. “No one be able to track dem back to here, and dey not know de way.”

Jesselynn knew he meant if someone forced the black men to talk, they wouldn’t be able to tell where they’d been. For all they knew they’d been north or east of Springfield, from the roundabout way they entered town. And snow would cover any trails that had built up around the camp. Now if only they could figure out what to do with all the extra horses until they could be sold. Even with putting them farther back in the cave, feeding and watering them took more effort.

But selling them would bring in the money they so desperately needed, and the Union army was always looking for horses. Now they could keep Chess longer.

“God do provide,” Meshach said with a grin and a pat on her shoulder. Jesselynn tried to ignore him, but his joy was as catching as a yawn. She caught herself whistling under her breath as she went about her chores.

They woke in the morning to a drift of snow halfway into the cave and to their own shivering, even though the fire had been kept going all night.

“Now I wish we had those extra deer hides to stretch across that opening.” Jesselynn shook her head. “And to keep us warm.” To think she’d gone to sleep dreaming of selling the extra horses today and bringing home bacon and lard, even eggs and peppermint candy for the boys of all sizes. And coffee. How wonderful a cup of coffee would taste on a cold morning like this.

The storm settled in and howled around the cave for the next two days. It let up, then returned with a vengeance. Meshach built a partial wall at the cave mouth to keep out the worst of the wind and cold. While they took most of the horses down to the creek to drink, Jesselynn chose to melt snow for the mares. She didn’t want them slipping and sliding going down the hill as the others had.

She doled out the oats, wishing she had some for the others when Ahab nickered for a treat too.

“Sorry, old son, but the mamas need this worse than you.”

That’s something else she would buy—oats for the horses and hay if she could find some.

On the good days, Daniel and Benjamin each brought in a deer, and Meshach stretched the hides over a bar at the top and hung another at the bottom so his swinging door could be pushed aside when they took the horses out.

The cave instantly felt warmer, though darker.

“Good thing we got de horses. Dey help keep us warm.”

“I wonder how Aunt Agatha is. With that hole in her roof . . .” Jesselynn shook her head. “Stubborn old woman.”
Runs in the family,
giggled her inner voice. But the concern for Aunt Agatha wouldn’t leave her alone. She went to sleep with it and woke up with it.

As soon as the snow stopped coming down and started melting, she decided to head for Springfield. They couldn’t take the wagon yet, but they could take the horses into the army encampment and offer to sell them to the Union soldiers. If the Confederates were in charge, she’d sell them there if they would pay her in gold.

She gathered some of the dried venison for Aunt Agatha, along with the day’s catch of rabbits, but as she got ready, she thought more and more about the Confederates having taken Springfield. They would conscript the horses, pay her in Confederate dollars, and wish her well. She knew that as well as she knew her own name. Only the Yankees had gold.

“Meshach, do you think the folks that own the barn we kept the wagon in would mind if we tied some horses there for a while?”

“Dey not mind. Why?”

“Can’t take them in if the Confederates are in power.”

He nodded. “I take Roman, you ride Chess?”

She nodded. No sense trying to go alone. “We can stop at Dummont’s and pick up supplies too.” Knowing they had a credit at the store took another load off her mind. She refused to let her mind play with the money they would get for the horses. Still seemed like blood money to her, but caring for her people was more important to her than mourning three men who took delight in destroying others. She had yet to ask Meshach what had actually happened that night, and most likely she never would.

Sometimes there was safety in not knowing.

White waves crested across the prairie, blown in drifts by a determined wind that even now tugged at their hats and tried to blow holes in their coats. Had it not been for the wind, the day would have been right balmy after the blizzards of the last days. She squinted against sun so bright off the snow, her eyes watered. Even the brim of her hat, pulled down low to shield her face, failed to protect her.

The horses worked up a sweat before they’d gone more than a mile and were blowing hard after plowing through a section of belly-deep snow, too soft to have a crust. By the time they got to town, she and Meshach had to dismount and stamp their feet to get the circulation flowing again. The United States flag snapping in the wind over the fort let them know who was in charge. The Confederate attack had been repulsed, so they could take the horses right in.

Snow had cleaned the town up, hiding the shell holes, trash, and dirt. White roofs with smoke coming from chimneys, capped fences, and a snowman here and there said Springfield had gone back to life as usual. The main streets were fast becoming mudholes as wagons and horses traversed the town.

A sentry stopped them at the edge of the parade grounds.

“Can you tell me where to find the quartermaster?”

“What for?”

“We have some horses for sale.” She nodded to the three on lead lines.

“Then you’d want to see Cap’n Maddock. He’s in charge.” The man pointed to a two-story house that had been commandeered by the army. A platoon of soldiers, rifles on their shoulders, marched back and forth across the field at the command of a hard-voiced officer. Smoke rose from chimneys of sod and wood buildings alike. To the side was a corral and low barn, the stables. And a line of wash flapping in the wind proclaimed the presence of the laundry.

Jesselynn nodded and turned to her right. Trotting up the block, she saw enlisted men shoveling snow from walks, women in heavy wool shawls with market baskets on their arms, and a plethora of horses and riders coming and going, many of them to and from the big house. She handed Meshach the lead rein and flipped Chess’s reins over the hitching rail to the side of the iron-fenced yard.

Two enlisted men, buttons gleaming gold in the sunlight, stood on either side of the fan-lighted front door.

“I came to see Captain Maddock. I have some horses to show him.”

“Second floor on your right. The private then will see you up.”

“Thank you.” She entered the interior, dim after the brightness outside, and stood for a moment to let her eyes grow accustomed.

“Your name, boy?” The cherry-cheeked man behind the desk in the entry barked at her. He didn’t look old enough to shave yet, let alone wear a uniform.

“Jesse Highwood, suh. I come to see Captain Maddock.”

“State your business.”

“I have three horses to sell.”

“Only three?”

“Yes, suh.” She felt like saluting and resisted the temptation to give any further information. Benjamin had reminded her of that before they left the cave.

“Jones, take him up.”

She straightened her shoulders and sucked in a breath of courage as he opened the dark walnut door.

“Young man to see you about some horses, sir.”

“Show him in.”

When Jesselynn stood before the desk, she removed her hat and clutched it in front of her. The officer finished what he was writing and looked up at her. “You have horses for sale?”

“Yes, suh. Three.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Found ’em loose in the woods.”

“You didn’t rustle them, did you?”

“No, suh!” Again she clamped her lips against embroidering her story. After all, they
had
found them in the woods, hard used like the blacks.

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars for each one if they prove up sound.”