Angels Watching Over Me (Shenandoah Sisters Book #1) (24 page)

Then came an explosion of gunfire—Katie must’ve hit three hundred!

I had to get ready quick.

I figured I’d better just stay by this open window. I slammed the lever down and lifted the gun.

Another shot sounded from the woods, then a third. I heard yelling from inside the house. A few seconds later the men came running out, looking frantically around.

Three more shots fired.

Katie’d figured out the rifle just fine! Now she would have to reload, and it was my turn.

One of the men was looking toward the woods where Katie was hiding. And he
wasn’t
wearing a pistol around his waist! None of them were.

‘‘Get the rifles!’’ he shouted to the others. All three started running toward the horses.

I reached the barrel of the shotgun up and over the window ledge, aimed in the direction of the men’s running feet, and pulled the first trigger.

The kick nearly knocked my shoulder in half, and its roar was so loud I thought it would split my head open.

A big blast of dust flew up and one of the men swore real loud. I don’t know if some of the buckshot got him in the leg or if he was just surprised at the sudden sound.

‘‘Our guns is gone!’’ one of them shouted.

I figured I’d better keep them on the run. I emptied the second barrel as close to their feet as I could get.

From the yells and hollering I heard when the echo died away, I could tell I must have aimed just a little too high. One of them sounded like he was in pain.

Behind me, there came Katie’s gun again . . . one shot, two . . . three. Then I heard a window shatter with the next shot.

Miss Katie!
I said.
What are you doing! Don’t shoot
at the house!

I had no idea if the men’s rifles were loaded. But rather than risking the time to reload the shotgun, I grabbed the closest rifle and started firing in the air over their heads.

It was loaded all right!

Now with Katie and me firing together, shots were exploding every other second. The three men hurried to untie their horses and leap onto their mounts.

‘‘Let’s get outta here!’’

‘‘What about our guns, Jeb?’’

‘‘You want to go back and try to find them, fine by me, Hal! But I ain’t ready to get myself shot for no gun.’’

They spurred their horses around as I threw down the rifle and quickly fumbled with the shotgun, opened the chambers, and reloaded.

The three galloped off along the road west with dust and dirt flying up behind them. They were far enough away by now that I didn’t figure it could hurt anything, so I let both barrels loose straight at them.

Whether any buckshot got that far, I don’t know. But they didn’t slow down and a minute later were out of sight.

I ran out the back door of the barn waving both my hands in the air.

‘‘Miss Katie . . . Katie!’’ I shouted toward the woods. ‘‘They’re gone! You can come out now!’’

I ran across the field. She crept out from between the trees and just stood there looking at me.

‘‘Miss Katie,’’ I called again, ‘‘they’re gone!’’

Now she took some steps toward me, then started running. We met in the field in a great big hug, laughing and crying all at once.

‘‘We whipped our weight in wild cats, didn’t we?’’ I yelled. ‘‘I got their guns and we scared ’em off.’’

She was shaking with excitement and fear and exhilaration all at once.

‘‘Did you count clear to three hundred?’’ I asked when we’d settled a bit.

‘‘I was so nervous, I lost track when I tried to count,’’ she said.

‘‘And you shot out one of the windows!’’

‘‘I was trying to aim over the roof.’’

We laughed again.

‘‘Well, no matter,’’ I said as we walked over to pick up her daddy’s rifle. ‘‘It worked out all right. But we’d better get back inside with all the guns, and be ready in case they come back.’’

‘‘What will we do then, Mayme?’’ asked Katie, getting serious again. ‘‘We won’t be able to scare them off like that a second time.’’

‘‘I don’t know, Miss Katie. We’ll just have to hope they don’t come back until we get something figured out.’’

I M
AKE A
D
ECISION
35

B
ACK IN THE HOUSE, WE WERE BOTH FRIGHTened and excited for the rest of the day. We’d scared them off once, but like Katie said, we might not be so lucky again.

The rest of the day passed without any sign of trouble.

My mind was still racing into the night, and I could hardly sleep for listening to the sounds outside. Crickets and bullfrogs and every once in a while a coyote and a few strange noises I didn’t recognize kept me awake half the night.

I kept the rifle in bed with me this time instead of the Bible.

All kinds of things were running through my mind, such as that we ought to go to that neighbor’s house the next day and ask for his help. Then I remembered that I was black and he was white, and what was I thinking.

I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that we were in a fix even worse than before.

The next day we were both still spooked, jumping at every sound, listening, looking out the windows, worrying that we were going to see those riders coming up the road.

After all that had happened, I got to thinking harder than ever. Katie was going to get found out, that much I was sure of, and it wouldn’t likely take much longer.

Somebody with mischief in mind would come here eventually, someone we couldn’t just scare away with a few gunshots. We were only a few miles from Greens Crossing. Sooner or later those men would come back. Or one of Katie’s uncles would come calling and claim Katie and Rosewood for their own.

Before long,
somebody
was going to get mighty curious about why no one had heard from Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne in so long. If we were found like this, a fifteen-year-old white girl and a colored girl living alone together on a great big plantation, I couldn’t think of anything but bad things that would be the result.

Sometime between when I went to bed and woke up the next morning, I realized I’d reached a decision.

The next morning during breakfast I said to Katie, ‘‘You don’t want to go live with your aunt or your uncles?’’

‘‘No,’’ she said.

‘‘Then there ain’t nothing else, Miss Katie, except one of those homes for kids that ain’t got a ma or pa.’’

‘‘An orphanage?’’ she said, sounding like she was going to cry.

‘‘Something like that,’’ I nodded.

She looked at me in shock.

‘‘Oh, I could never do that!’’ she said. ‘‘They beat the children when they’re bad. I’ve read about work houses in books—they’re awful—’’

‘‘You might have to go to someplace like that, Miss Katie, if you don’t decide something else.’’

I could tell she still didn’t understand. I was starting to get exasperated.

‘‘Don’t you know, Miss Katie—they’re going to find out! I’ve been telling you all along that I have to leave sometime, and soon. And if you don’t
do
something, you’re gonna have to go to your aunt or one of your uncles or some kindly person around here . . . or else to an orphanage.’’

Katie was silent.

‘‘You can’t wait any longer. It’s time you did something. People are gonna start asking what’s going on. They’re gonna wonder if there’s a colored in the woodpile, and if they ask too many questions they may
find
one too—me! So what I want you to do, Miss Katie,’’ I went on, ‘‘is either go to that neighbor man who came by—he seemed like a decent enough sort—or else go into town and tell somebody what happened and that you need help.’’

‘‘But, Mayme—’’

‘‘You’re in danger, Miss Katie. We saw a whole dose of danger yesterday. You need somebody to take care of you. Somebody who can do a better job of it than me.’’

‘‘But . . . who am I going to tell about everything?’’

‘‘Somebody you trust—the banker, that neighbor man, that general store lady . . . any of them would help you, Miss Katie.’’

‘‘I can’t, Mayme.’’

‘‘What about a minister?’’

‘‘There’s Reverend Hall, but I hardly know him.’’

‘‘That don’t matter. Do you trust him? Could you talk to him?’’

Suddenly a determined look came over her face.

‘‘I won’t,’’ she said. ‘‘You can’t make me do it!’’

‘‘You got to, Miss Katie.’’

‘‘What if I don’t?’’ she said, sounding like a little girl telling her mother she wasn’t going to obey.

‘‘Miss Katie,’’ I said. ‘‘I’m leaving.’’

The words hung there in the air between us.

Gradually Katie got the most stunned look on her face I’d ever seen. She just stared back at me like she didn’t believe what she’d heard. Slowly her face got red and her lower lip quivered. Then she started to cry.

‘‘It’s for your own good,’’ I went on. ‘‘There ain’t nothing else to be done. Something bad is going to happen to you. I’ve got to make you do this, Miss Katie.’’

‘‘But . . . but, Mayme—’’

‘‘Now, you go to that banker. You can trust him. Or go to that Mrs. Hammond or the reverend or
some
body
and you tell them about your ma and pa and that you’re alone.’’

‘‘What about you?’’ she said while tears poured down her cheeks.

‘‘By then I’ll be gone, Miss Katie.’’ I could hardly get the words past the lump in my throat. But they had to be said.

‘‘Gone—?’’
she repeated, like I’d slapped her in the face.

‘‘It’s for the best. I’ll find some other coloreds, like I said, and they’ll take care of me.’’

‘‘But what if something bad happens to
you,
Mayme?’’ she asked as she started to cry again. ‘‘I’ll be so worried about you.’’

‘‘You just take care of yourself, Miss Katie, and don’t bother your head about me. I’ll be fine.’’

She sat quietly, and I couldn’t exactly read her expression.

‘‘But, Mayme,’’ she said finally, ‘‘I don’t see why you can’t just . . . just stay. Why can’t you be my slave at Rosewood?’’

‘‘Because, Miss Katie, that ain’t the way it works. I’m
not
your slave. I belong to Master McSimmons, at least I once did. I can’t be anything but bought, sold, or a runaway. And right now, that’s what I am—a runaway.’’

‘‘But there wasn’t anybody there when we went back to your house.’’

‘‘All we saw was the colored town. For all we know, everything’s still the same at the big house. If Master McSimmons is dead, maybe that changes things a mite. But I still belong to
somebody,
just like this plantation of your mama and daddy probably belongs to somebody else now. Everything belongs to somebody, and that’s what slaves are—property that somebody owns. And now that I’m a runaway, I don’t see much else for me to do but either go back to the McSimmons plantation, or try to make my way up North.’’

Katie listened and again she got quiet.

‘‘What if I won’t do it?’’ she said after a while.

‘‘Miss Katie, you
got
to let your kin know!’’

It was silent a long time. I think she finally realized that I was dead serious.

‘‘When . . . when will you go, Mayme?’’ she finally asked. Her voice was soft.

‘‘Tomorrow, Miss Katie,’’ I replied. ‘‘I’m leaving tomorrow.’’

I didn’t like the thought of being out on my own either. But it had to be done. The decision had been made.

‘‘Where, Mayme . . . where will you go?’’

‘‘I don’t know, Miss Katie. It’s best for you if you don’t know where I am. That way you can’t get into trouble for knowing too much. If people ask about that colored girl who was around, just tell ’em I came for a while and then left and that you don’t know where I am.’’

‘‘But . . . but, Mayme . . . will I ever see you again?’’

She looked at me with those big eyes, and their sad expression nearly broke my heart. It was all I could do not to give in and say I’d stay just a while longer. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

‘‘I’ll try to come back sometime and see you,’’ I answered. ‘‘Whether you’re here or someplace else, or up North with your aunt, whoever’s here—or that lady at the store—they’ll know where you are. I’ll come back when it’s safe, maybe when we’re older. We’ll stay friends, Miss Katie.’’

She listened with more great big tears running down her cheeks, then turned and walked up to her room.

I followed and listened from the bottom of the stairs. I was sure she was lying on her bed. It hurt to hear her sobs, but I knew I had to go.

There was no use putting it off any longer.

G
OOD-BYE TO
R
OSEWOOD
36