Chapter 5.

In keeping with the daily routine of the house, I listened at my door until I heard Aunt Augusta descend the stairs. She always awoke early and sat at the tremendous oak table that formed the center of the chandeliered dining room overlooking the mist-draped river far below, a view much like the one gracing Aunt Augusta's bedroom directly above us. I could not imagine a more glorious greeting than the one offered through those windows as the sun painted the eastern sky pink and orange. The colorful display, coupled with the crackling of wood in the stone fireplace in the wall adjacent to the servants' entrance to the kitchen, made for a warm and alluring room. Even Aunt Augusta mellowed in its ambience as she sipped her tea each morning.

In order not to appear eager, I stepped nonchalantly from the stairs and turned down the hallway streaked with beams of sunlight. I eased into the room and was startled to see Colt at the far end of the table.

He simply nodded at me as he forked the last hearty slice of griddle cake from his plate. I sat across from him and wondered what had brought him to Hillcrest so early. He often took care of various necessities for Aunt Augusta. In fact, as he had grown into manhood, she had come to rely on him for a great many things. And although it was not unusual for them to be found talking privately as she asked questions or gave him instructions, he was not inclined to appear before morning ch.o.r.es were completed. A flutter of anxiety had me fearing that perhaps pangs of guilt and disloyalty had brought him to her table at the crow of the rooster. But I wore my concerned face as discreetly as I did my carefully chosen dress.

"Good morning, Colt. What brings you here with the mourning doves?"

Colt took his last sip of tea and placed the empty cup on the table. "Augusta is leaving for c.u.mberland Gap tomorrow."

"I have asked Colton to oversee my interests in my absence. I shall be gone no longer than two weeks. I'll expect you to behave in accordance with our discussion last night."

"Of course, Aunt Augusta," I answered while diverting my eyes from Colt.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies," Colt said as he rose to his feet. "Some prime hogs broke free of a pen last night. w.i.l.l.y Jack took a pa.s.sel of field slaves out looking for them. I must check on the status of their search."

"Why isn't Twitch.e.l.l overseeing the slaves?" Aunt Augusta asked impatiently.

Colt glanced at me as he spoke. "Twitch packed up his hounds and set off on a slave hunt before daybreak." Seeing my face drain of color, he quickly added, "He headed downriver, where some say a band of runaways escaped through the Carolina pa.s.s. He'll track them through the Virginia lowlands for a few days."

After Colt excused himself, Aunt Augusta and I sat wordlessly until Esther Mae entered through the swinging kitchen door with a steaming tea service balanced in her hands. Moving with well-oiled swiftness, she poured and prepared my morning tea, then stepped away to face Aunt Augusta.

"Anythin' else, Miz 'Gusta?"

"Yes, Esther Mae. Have Granny Morgan fix a plate of griddle cakes and ham for Hannalore."

"No, thank you," I spoke up before Esther Mae could make her retreat. "Tea is all I am suited for this morning."

"Nonsense, Hannalore. You must be famished. I will not have you weaken yourself and fall ill while I am away. I have important business with my tobacco traders, and I do not wish to be called home before sealing an agreement."

"Surely you do not believe I will collapse because of one refused griddle cake?"

Aunt Augusta eyed me intently, daring me to sa.s.s her again. There was no benefit in agitating her further, and I had more important issues up on the peak, so I surrendered the battle and used it to my advantage.

"Serve Hannalore her breakfast, Esther Mae," Aunt Augusta said as she rose from her chair. When Esther Mae disappeared into the kitchen, Aunt Augusta circled the table and stood behind me, where I could not see her scowl, though it was present in her voice. "I see you are dressed for outdoor activity this morning."

"Yes, I shall gather raspberries and enjoy a brisk walk before retiring to my needlework."

"Indeed, some purposeful activity will be invigorating. I will leave you to your breakfast while I make preparations for my trip." Then with one last stern glare, she added, "Do not excuse yourself until you have finished your meal."

Upon being served my breakfast, I immediately wrapped the griddle cakes and smoked ham in my linen napkin. I shoved the bundle into one of the deep pockets of my dress as Esther Mae returned to clear away Aunt Augusta's teacup. Her brow arched slightly when she saw my emptied plate. However, she said nothing as she gathered the dishes in her arms.

"Esther Mae, do we have any clean rags and ointment I could use to treat a deep flesh wound?"

"Chile, have you done hurt yo'self?" she asked carefully, with a hint of confusion.

I should have thought through my reasoning before asking. The less attention I brought on myself and my whereabouts, the better. I could not risk confiding my secret runaways to Esther Mae, even if I thought she would be akin to helping me. I was well aware that Mud Run had a social dynamic all its own, wherein the slaves interacted, gossiped, and abided by a pecking order often dictated by those who were in highest favor at the main house, be it with Aunt Augusta, Uncle Mooney, Colt, or even wicked Twitch. In fact, his slave driver, w.i.l.l.y Jack, was kept in st.u.r.dy brogans with wooden soles, and his cook fire often smelled of pork drippings simply because Twitch favored him. w.i.l.l.y Jack often carried out Twitch's fierce orders within the ranks of his fellow slaves. w.i.l.l.y Jack was feared as much as, if not more than, Twitch because his eyes could see all that was transpiring beyond the fields after the master retired to the comfort of his hearth. So rather than chance any suspicious notions being set loose and whispered through Mud Run, I placated Esther Mae with the quickest fib I could fabricate.

"No, it's nothing, really. I saw a helpless fawn yesterday. The poor thing was clawed across the haunches by a bear or mountain lion. It was bleeding quite badly and not likely to survive. If I come across it while berry picking, perhaps some comfort can be offered by sealing its wound."

Esther Mae chuckled. "Miz Hannah, you know yo' auntie won't never let you waste good liniment on some half-dead animal in de woods. Now, I can't touch de medicine closet without permission, but if yo' heart is set on it, then I'll have my boy, Elijah, fetch me some herb poultice from the cabin. It helps some when Ma.s.sa's whip lays open de skin."

"Oh, Esther Mae," I said, reminded of her husband's suffering the previous day. "I am so sorry about what happened to Winston in town."

"Don't say nothin' more, chile," she said with an agitated wave of her arms. "Don't want no more brought down upon us."

I hushed in shame and followed Esther Mae through the kitchen and into the side yard, where hours earlier I had promised Marcus I would come to the peak after breakfast. I waited outside the gate of the fence that sectioned the yard. Esther Mae trotted across the front lawn and down the knoll into Mud Run. I watched as she waved Elijah into their cabin to fetch the poultice, and that's when I noticed Winston gingerly running a brush over the back of a mare alongside the stables. Our eyes locked. To my surprise, he did not turn away. Stiff and sore, he nodded politely and then turned his attention back to the horse.

Winston was a gentle soul and the most amiable of any slave I had ever encountered. Because he was our carriage driver, I found myself in his company almost as much as in Granny Morgan's and Esther Mae's. Fatima and Tessie also worked in the house, although their duties usually kept them in the sewing room. However, they rarely spoke when I joined them during my afternoon needlework. Winston, on the other hand, was always quick to give me a wink and a grin, as if we shared some grand secret joke between us. I could never quite figure it out, but it was oddly comforting and never inappropriate or forthright. Unlike the indelicate winks directed my way by Twitch when no one else was aware.

"Miz Hannah, my mama says to fetch this to you," Elijah said, handing me a preserve jar half- filled with a brown salve. "Says you should bring back what you don't use so she can send it with my daddy when he leaves with Miz 'Gusta tomorr'y."

I waved down to Esther Mae, who stood, arms folded, on her doorstep. "Tell your mama I will return it this afternoon."

"Yas'sum." He grinned with a pleasant smile as quick as his father's. As he scampered off, I went to the shed for a berry tin and headed up the mountain.

I could barely contain my feet in an un.o.btrusive march until I reached the meadow, where I broke free into a full-out run. Unrestrained breaths were soon bursting from my bosom as I pushed upward to the peak without so much as a moment's rest. I slowed my pace when I reached the shadowed coolness of the pine hollow. If not for the exuberant trill of a scarlet tanager hidden somewhere in the treetops, it would have been easy to believe that there wasn't another heart beating within a hundred miles. A strange swell of antic.i.p.ation filled me as I neared the rocky ridge that held my secret.

Suddenly, the unmistakable snap of footsteps on twigs peppered through the trees behind me. I stopped in my tracks, barely a stone's throw from the cave entrance, unsure of whether to run or face the threat head-on. Fear pounded in my chest as I frantically scanned the trees around me. The crunch of heavy boots sent me scampering like a frightened squirrel in another direction, in the hope of misdirecting my pursuer away from Marcus and Livetta. Kicking up pine needles and mossy cakes of dirt, I fled deeper into the hollow; however, the footsteps came with me and closed the gap between us.

"Hannah! Where are you going?"

I looked over my shoulder and saw Colt trotting along the wooded path. I stopped and dropped to my knees, relieved but confused. He hurried past me toward the cave, with a large sack over his shoulder and a small wooden box in the crook of his arm.

"Land sakes, Colt, you frightened me to death."

"Didn't you hear me call out to you? I saw you enter the path in the meadow. What are you doing up here?"

"Marcus came down the mountain last night. Livetta is sick."

"I know," he said, nudging through the gap in the rocks. "I was here before dawn."

Taken aback by the thought of Colt initiating such action, I helped him push his hefty sack through the hole and followed him in. Entering the cave on my hands and knees, I looked up and found myself surrounded by a sea of black faces. From my crouched position, I watched as they parted for Colt to walk toward the rear of the cave. There, Livetta shivered in Marcus's arms as he stroked her forehead with a wet rag.

The group turned their guarded eyes back to me. There were seven new runaways in all, including a stern boy who looked to be a few years younger than I, and a proud, glaring woman with a motherly arm around his shoulders. Fidgeting in the shadows to my left was a sad and weary mulatto woman with two quadroons clinging to her waist, and a robust, gray-haired mammy with her stocky son propping her up at the elbow. Thoughts of the previous day played out in my mind, when unseen companions had scattered away through the tall gra.s.s, leaving Marcus and Livetta to face their fate alone. I had a.s.sumed they were long gone, but obviously they had stayed near enough to return once it was deemed safe. Now, in an air of bitter scrutiny, not one among them moved to a.s.sist me as I hoisted myself onto my feet.

"Hannah, come and give me a hand."

I straightened my disheveled dress, and as I pa.s.sed through the united front, I handed my small bundle of griddle cakes to the young mother. The older of her two children, a girl, pulled at her mother's blouse with desperate hunger shaking her small, frail body.

"Lillabelle," the woman said gently. "We is all like kin now, together like this. So we gots'ta give up some to feed t'others."

With that, the attention on me dissipated into a tangle of hands reaching out to the woman who shared the modest meal equally among them.

Marcus looked over at me when I knelt down between him and Colt at Livetta's side. Her dark skin was taut and ashen. Her marble eyes stared blankly, focused on nothing. It was clear the germ had taken hold of her. The gentleness of Marcus's brotherly comfort wobbled my heart. I could barely take my eyes from his tender intent, until Colt opened the wooden box tucked under his arm. He ran his fingers across the sleek, shiny knives glimmering in the sunbeams that pierced down through the rocky ceiling.

"Gracious be, Colt. What are you doing?"

"I boiled them at the house. I must open her wound and remove the pellet."

Marcus's face clouded over as Colt's words sank in. "You mean you is fixin' to cut Livetta open?"

"I will make a small incision to remove the ball and flush the wound."

"Can't let you do that," Marcus said. "Jes' fetch some powerful medicine from the big house to rid Livetta of the fever. Don't want no cuttin' and bleedin'."

Sensing more fear in Marcus's resistance than I did blatant refusal, I offered what encouragement I could. "Colt knows what he's doing, Marcus. He spent nearly six months in Richmond as an apprentice with Dr. Winford LaValle, one of Virginia's finest."

I didn't mention that Uncle Mooney had little respect for Colt's compa.s.sion and desire to help others. He had agreed to the apprenticeship solely because he felt whatever medicinal training Colt brought back to West Gate could be put to use in tending to lame horses and containing any disease that threatened the hog population. Beyond that, it was not an endeavor he encouraged his son to pursue. Colt had been quite impa.s.sioned by it, but upon his return, at his father's insistence, the small box of medical utensils and elixirs was regretfully tucked away. Uncle Mooney wanted all notions beyond the business of West Gate to be cast from Colt's mind. Now and again, though, an urgent situation would arise that brought Colt's hidden talents to the surface, and this was indeed one of those occasions.

Marcus measured us with uncertainty. He looked down at his suffering sister, then back again at our earnest faces. Suddenly, the proud, angry woman stepped from the group and challenged Marcus.

"Don't you let no white slaver lay a knife to that chile's black skin. They would sooner cut her heart out and fed it to the sows 'fore they use their healin' medicine on one of us. Don't trust nothin' a slaver says or promises. We all got the strap marks to know I speak the truth."

"Hush up, Raizy. You got no say in this."

"The h.e.l.l you say, fool. We didn't come this far so you can sacryfice the lot of us to save yo' kin. You is the one who said from the get- go that if any of us gets sick or can't keep pace, then they gots'ta be left behind for the good of the group. They is your words, outright."

"The group is not in danger," Marcus growled.

"There's always danger when you trust a milky-white soul from the big house. You may as well put our heads on the choppin' block."

Frustrated with the standoff, Colt went for the large sack he had been carrying when first I saw him in the woods. He walked over and shoved it into the hands of the distrusting woman.

"Would I bring you all these provisions if I intended harm? There is enough to fill your bellies and see you on your way."

They gathered around the sack and pulled out loaves of cracked bread, salted pork, apple b.u.t.ter, and a hefty bag of cornmeal. The woman called Raizy offered no apologies or grateful acknowledgments, but backed away from her protest and huddled with the circle to partake in the food. The magnitude of their situation suddenly hit me. For the first time since our paths crossed, I was frightened-not by them, but by the desperation and determination that drove them north, as well as the hateful vengeance of those equally pledged to keep them in their place and the ways of the South intact.

Colt expressed urgency in Livetta's treatment, although his facade remained calm. "We must rid her of the infection before it takes a death hold on her. I know it's a difficult decision, but these things can move swiftly, and waiting may take it out of our hands."

Marcus finally conceded. "Then let's not waste no more breath talkin' 'bout it."

Colt nodded and removed his scalpel from the box. "I will open the wound just enough to flush it clean. Then I will seal it with a hot blade."

Marcus winced in empathy. "We gonna need to hold her down."

Raizy and the stocky young man stepped forward from the group and positioned themselves opposite each other, over Livetta's limp knees. Joining in the silent cooperation, I shimmied in next to Livetta and carefully pulled apart the stained bullet hole in her dress to expose the inflamed wound. As Marcus leaned down across his sister's upper body to anchor her shoulders and arms, Colt sank his knife into her hip. Livetta jolted from her disoriented stupor with a whooping cry. I instinctively grabbed her fingers when she clawed at the ground beneath her brother's weight. She clung to my hand and pulled me near. I glanced down toward her hip, where blood and fluid oozed like brown honey. Colt's thumb and forefinger disappeared into the open wound and resurfaced with a dark, round gun pellet.

"Got it!" Colt looked up at me with great relief and a hint of pride in his gleaming eyes. "Pa.s.s me the kettle with the boiled water," he called out to the mesmerized group behind us. The young mother heeded his words and ran for the small kettle of water that sat near the smoldering fire. Colt must have wisely ordered it boiled earlier, because as I reached across to take it from her eager grasp, it was tepid and soothing to the touch.

"Hannah, I am going to pull her wound open while you pour a steady stream to flush it clean."

With Marcus and the two other runaways still holding Livetta down, I did as Colt instructed. Most of the festering washed away with the first rush of water, and before the kettle emptied, the wound appeared clear and ready to be sealed. I shifted around Marcus and placed a moist rag on Livetta's forehead.

"You are very brave, Livie. We're almost done." Her face eased in response to my words.

"Our mama and sister used to call her Livie," Marcus said as he loosened his grip. "Haven't heard the name spoken fo' the better part of six years."

Colt dipped the knife blade into the unused water left in the kettle and gave it a vigorous swirl. He examined the cleansed metal, then walked to the fire and held it out in the flame.

"I must seal the wound closed as protection from any other infectious germ. Since I don't have all the medical equipment needed, I must burn the flesh over it."

Before we had the chance to digest the horror of what he was about to do, Colt moved from the fire, the hot orange glow of his blade aimed down at the unsuspecting girl's exposed hip. We all grabbed what we could of Livie as Colt pressed the hot blade across the wound, instantly sending the sizzle and smell of burnt flesh throughout the cave. He was as quick and humane as his trembling hands allowed, but Livie exploded with an agonizing cry. Colt tossed the knife back into the wooden box and helped hold down Livie's convulsing body.

"It's done, Livie. It's all done," I whispered over and over in her ear as her cries peaked, then trailed off as she fainted in painful surrender.

Livie did not move for more than an hour, and was still unconscious when Colt and I decided it was best to head back to Hillcrest before Aunt Augusta became suspicious of our absence. As we exited the cave, I heard Raizy's voice rise.

"You can't trust 'em. They take pleasure in our sufferin' and have done nothin' but torture this poor chile. Now she's branded like a prize steer. This girl gots'ta be sacryficed for the good of the group. That's jes' the way of it."

Chapter 6.

"She dead, Miz Hannah," Lillabelle wailed as I entered the cave. "She dead! She dead!"

The bottom dropped out of my heart as the young quadroon clung to my legs, shackling me from running to the group huddled, in the late-morning gleam of the cave, around the bed of needles opposite me. I had waited impatiently for Aunt Augusta to set off on her trip to c.u.mberland Gap, so I could come and go as I pleased. As I waved Aunt Augusta good-bye, I had wondered why Colt had not come to bid her farewell. I had no way of knowing that I would find him here with the runaways.

Lillabelle pulled me toward the circle of slaves. I stumbled in disbelief. Our efforts to save Livie had failed, and by the look of the shoving match between Colt and Marcus, we were being held accountable. Colt shook his head and waved his hands at Marcus.

"It was a foolish mistake," he said in an irritated voice. "And far too dangerous . . ." He paused when he saw me rushing toward him. "Hannah?"

I cried out, "Why didn't you tell me? Maybe I could have done something!" Raizy jumped out of my way as I threw myself into the inner circle and fell into the dust at Colt and Marcus's feet. "Why didn't you tell me she died?"

Marcus rolled his eyes with exasperation. "Not you too. You is as bad as Lillabelle, carrying on 'bout an ol' jackrabbit like it's a member of the family."

"What?"

He held out his hand and let the slaughtered rabbit he'd wrangled swing by its ears back and forth in front of my confused face. "I keep tellin' this fool that after three days of comin' up here in the woods under the guise of huntin', he best be takin' home a kill, or his daddy is gonna get to wonderin'."

I swung around in a fit of tears and saw Livie propped on one arm, staring at me with a tired eyebrow raised in amus.e.m.e.nt. "I never knowed white folks was such unusual critters," she mumbled as she ruffled some burlap Colt had brought to pillow her head. "Best be tellin' your beau to take that there rabbit from Marcus, 'cuz we all seen down in the meadow he ain't got no knack fo' shootin." She smiled to herself as she lay her head down and closed her eyes.

"Lillabelle said she was dead." I sniffled as Colt helped me to my feet.

"Oh, that spirited chile is talkin' 'bout the rabbit," Marcus said, shoving the kill against Colt's chest. "I trapped and strangled it this morning. Now take it so no one thinks you is doin' somethin' more than huntin' up in these hills."

"I still say it was a d.a.m.n foolish thing to do." Colt reluctantly took the limp rabbit in hand. "If anybody had seen you, this hare would not have been the only kill of the day."