I glanced around the fledgling town. Amid the hardship and struggle, these were inspirational people. Fleeing the bondage of slavery, they began as fugitives. Once they crossed into the free state of Pennsylvania, they shed their fettered souls and became pioneers in the purest sense of the word. Living role models of how to begin life anew, they did not let the burdens of their past prevent them from planting seeds of hope for a better future. I was not born of the same plight and did not count myself among the brave trailblazers, but I felt privileged to bear witness on their claim to freedom.

"This ain't a town of only colored," Livie continued. "There are some poor white buckra settled in the lower end of town near the creek. They is buildin' a gristmill. Desperate times can make fo' some unlikely bedfellows. We is all jes' tryin' to survive and make claim on our lives."

We entered the schoolhouse, which was no more than an empty room with benches lined against each wall. At the center of the room, there was a wooden chair with an open Bible on the seat. Livie handed me her precious heirloom. "Take this with you. It will offer both comfort and disguise."

"I will carry it with great pride," I said, reaching to hug her. But before thanks could be given, a cowbell began clanking down the road. Livie's eyes sprang open and she rushed to the window. It struck five times and paused. Five more and paused. When the third round started, Livie turned to me.

"That's Corine in the meadow yonder. She's warnin' us that riders are comin'. Must be white and lookin' fo' trouble."

"If you are free, what threat do they hold over you?"

"There's a Fugitive Slave Law that allows bounty hunters to come north to collect runaways and return 'em to their ma.s.sas fo' a generous fee. Folks say they is worse than slave catchers, because they often s.n.a.t.c.h up those with free papers and take 'em back to the auction block."

"On our trip here, we were confronted by a posse searching for Marcus."

Livie shook her head. "Plenty o' snakes south of the border are hungry to get their hands on him. He stays outta sight when riders come through. Promise Bridge is a pretty out-o'-the-way place, but lately it seems like mo' white folk is stumblin' upon us in their travels. We try to walk softly in these hills."

When I heard the approach of riders, I walked toward the window. Livie grabbed my arm and pushed me into the corner. "Don't you know enough to fear a white man yet? There ain't much by way of laws to protect us, and them that do are usually scoffed at by whites on both sides o' the border. Some say a whole town was torched to run off folks like us. Can't help but curse them for the control they still have over our lives, even here in the North."

"Why, that's not fair," I huffed with indignant fury.

Livie stepped from the window to face me. "Not fair? Girl, I love you heart and soul, but you don't know the half of it. Standin' next to me ain't the same as walkin' in my shoes. I could tell you stories that would p.r.i.c.kle you head to toe." Her honesty wilted my self- righteous objection; however, Livie was not interested in scolding me. She merely wanted me to understand the immediate danger. "Now, stay in the corner so you ain't seen. A white gal here among us will only rile 'em up."

I pressed my back against the wall when horse hooves plodded near the window. Livie stared out at them, steady and unblinking. "What'chu lookin' at, woman?"

"Nothin', sah," she stated blankly.

"Is there a farrier among you?"

Livie pointed toward the blacksmith barn beyond the school. As they strode to the back of the building, Livie whispered, "One of the horses is limpin'."

We crept to the back window, where we saw James step from the barn to greet the three hors.e.m.e.n. His tight grin did little to disguise his concern. "Good afta'noon, sah. Looks like yo' hoss done snapped a shoe."

"Do you think I'm stupid, boy?"

"No, sah," James stammered, realizing his words were being turned against him. "Jes' takin' notice."

"Well, take notice of this this." The rider pulled a pistol from inside his coat. "Now, get your darky hide in the barn and shoe this horse so we can move on. Don't think of chargin' me neither. The only payment you'll get is the breath in your chest. Tell me, boy, is your life worth the cost of a horseshoe?"

James' face glazed over as he led the horse inside. I held on to Livie, who quivered like a panther ready to leap to the defense of her man. The two men who remained outside surveyed the buildings around them. "All these darkies in one place puts me on edge. If I lived in these hills, I would gather a posse and run 'em off."

"Well, these ain't our hills," snapped the other man. "Rather 'em here than in the flatlands with us. Leave the lynchin' to the locals."

Livie's hand clutched painfully around mine. James walked from the barn with the horse and mounted rider. He kept his head lowered to avoid further confrontation. The man whose horse had been shod nudged James with his foot. "You did a fine job, boy, and quick too. I think you deserve something for your effort." He cracked the b.u.t.t of his pistol against James's head, buckling him to his knees. I pulled Livie back as she sprang toward the door. Livie swallowed her outrage and grimaced, head in hand. The two other men laughed and spurred their horses as the third man gave chase, firing random shots at each building he pa.s.sed. Livie wriggled free of my grasp, and as we helped James to his feet, I was sickened by a realization like none I had ever experienced. I felt shame and anger; not in myself, but in those considered my people. And in that moment, I learned to fear a white man.

By midmorning, we began saying our good-byes. Hugs were exchanged and tears shed. The danger in what we were doing was understood by everyone, sparking emotion that had us clinging together until we forced ourselves to let go.

The carriage ride down through the western hills and farmlands of Pennsylvania was merciless, with heavy rain that turned the roads into thick pools of mud. Marcus and James rode on horseback, while Winston and I took turns at the reins of the coach. During daylight travel, Marcus rode a mile or two ahead of us, while James rode the same distance to our rear. They ducked into the woods or brush as riders approached, waiting and watching to see if they posed any threat. Living in a free state did not guarantee their safety, particularly with the high price on the head of retrieved runaways. Winston and I, on the other hand, looked the picture of a mistress and her hired man. His age and submissive posture made him of little notice to those who crossed our path.

Marcus led us along little-used roads overgrown with dandelion and poison ivy, and in some instances we carved our own trail through fields gnarled with ragweed. Twice along the way we traded for fresh horses so we could continue to drive on through long days. When the weather cleared and the nights were illuminated by a full moon, we trudged on through the twilight until exhaustion forced sleep upon us. With more than half of our journey behind us, Marcus and James struck a bargain with a farmer, selling their horses for a modest profit that they used in the next town to replenish our depleted supplies.

As we neared the borderland, my knuckles clenched the wooden seat beneath me. Strangers who pa.s.sed smelled of suspicion and secrecy. Marcus and James barely had enough room to wedge together in the hidden compartment until we rode well beyond scrutiny. Early one morning, six soldiers dressed in blue and carrying the striped flag of the Union appeared on a hillside. They watched Winston and me for some time as our wagon followed the ravine toward a thick grove of evergreens. The sound of their horses breaking into a gallop was gut-wrenching. Not knowing if the soldiers were friend or foe, I held my breath as I lowered the lid on Marcus and James. I straightened my disheveled clothes and sat atop them, the taste of fear on my tongue. I could not help thinking how easily Marcus's concerns for our safety could become reality.

Winston slowed the carriage to a halt to allow the soldiers to encircle us without protest. I clutched the Bible Livie had given me and raised it toward the soldier with the most decoration on his uniform, but he dismissed the book with a wave of his hand.

"I have no interest in your business, ma'am," he said, scanning his eyes across the surrounding hills. "But I suggest you proceed no farther. There have been bold attacks and confrontations by marauders on both sides of the border. My own troops have been fired upon twice this week, so safe pa.s.sage for you is neither guaranteed nor likely."

I masked my fright and gestured to the heavens. "I travel with the Lord as my pa.s.senger and His word as my compa.s.s. G.o.d's mercy and favor will provide me safe haven."

The soldier shook his head with grave impatience. "I fear neither mercy nor favor will be of use to you if you do not heed my warning. Woman, I have no authority to stop you, but if you continue, we can offer you no protection."

The soldier tugged his hat and motioned his men to move on, showing the same disinterest in my proclamation as he did for my stated mission. Winston had the carriage rolling before the soldiers disappeared over the next ridge. A chill crept across my skin when I noticed the soldier who had spoken to me look back over his shoulder and shake his head with ominous disbelief at our determination to follow the path he had advised us to abandon. However, he had no way of knowing the land terrorized by marauders was our chosen destination.

With the free state of Pennsylvania behind us, we decided to travel at night and take cover during the day. Marcus and James led the way with lanterns, as Winston nudged the carriage along overgrown footpaths barely wide enough to allow pa.s.sage. This was not the Virginia I knew. The mountains were dark and remote, with no signs of civilized order. The skill with which Marcus guided us through the wilderness was awe-inspiring. Using the flow of creeks, moss on trees, rock formations, and stars in the sky, Marcus moved with the ease of a prospector following points on a treasure map. After three nights in abysmal darkness, the distant squeal of fiddle music and raucous howling should have been uplifting; however, one look at Marcus's stony expression let me know we were now entrenched with the enemy.

"Don't be fooled by the playful hootin' and hollerin' down there," Marcus stated flatly as we peered down into the narrow vale where the blazing glow of two huge campfires hung like interlocked halos above the tree tops. "They are neither fun nor happy folk."

"How many do you think is down there?" James asked.

"Hard to say," Marcus said, motioning us back to the carriage. "If they was apples, probably enough for two generous basketfuls."

Winston shook his head. "Odds sho' ain't stacked in our favor."

Marcus patted Winston on the back as he helped him up into the interior of the coach, where we all sat down to plan our course of action. "Winston, I ain't never drawn a breath when the odds wasn't stacked against me, but my luck has held out so far."

"Luck ain't got nothin' to do with it." Winston smirked. "You is a smart man, so you tell us what needs doin'."

"From here on we go by foot," Marcus said in a hushed but confident voice. "But we ain't goin' no farther tonight. Ya'll get some sleep while I use what's left of the night to creep down yonder. We need to know fo' certain if Colt is here. If so, then I can get a sense of what we is facin'."

I shuddered at the thought of Marcus brushing so close to the encampment on his own. James must have had the same thought, because he immediately objected. "I'll go with you."

"No, James, trust me. It is best I go alone so there is less chance of us bein' found out. I'll be back by first light." Marcus paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "You all must promise me, if I am not back by dawn, you will turn around and trace our tracks back home."

"We will not leave you behind if there is trouble," I gasped.

Marcus squeezed my hand tightly, then moved his eyes from me to Winston and then on to James. "We must vow, here and now, whatever happens tonight or tomorrow, we will meet here at the carriage. Whoever makes it back must promise to return home without hesitation. If any of us are delayed, we can catch up with the others along the way. Once them hateful men know trouble is afoot, they will spread through these woods like termites. We is here to try, not to die. Stick to the plan. I moved north and south plenty o' times, so these ain't foolish words. We gots'ta promise."

Marcus held up his hand to begin a bridge of a.s.surance and we all followed suit, stringing our hands together in silent agreement. "Now, go on and get some sleep." Marcus nodded. "I'll be back with some answers by mornin'." He lingered no more than ten painful beats of my heart, then disappeared into the night.

The three of us had little else to say. Exhaustion and preoccupation with what the morning would bring drained me of my confidence. I curled up in the back of the carriage, but could not still my fears and worries. If James and Winston harbored doubt, they did not reveal it with words, but their quiet uneasiness had me suspecting they felt the same. Winston unhitched the horses and watered them at a stream flowing through a poplar grove where we took cover for the night. He and James shared what was left of our small ration of salted pork, and they refilled our kidney sacks with fresh, cool water. There was no room for appet.i.te in my wrenched stomach, so I closed my eyes in hope of calming my jittery thoughts.

"De creek pools down over de hill yonder," Winston said to James. "Come mornin', it be a good place to wash de sweat and stink off us. Might help if any hounds is set on us tomorr'y."

His words were so matter-of-fact. If I had opened my eyes, tears would have sprinkled from them. However, with so little time to revive my strength, I refused to release even a drop of effort on a worthless tear. Their voices drifted away and sleep settled over me like morning mist on a rose; however, my respite was not meant to last. Tension of mind and body awakened me deep in the night, with nothing to do but stare at the pearl- filled sky spread above me. The anguish stirring inside me brought to mind a starry night of yesteryear when my naivete was torn from me by the sight of Uncle Mooney on top of defenseless Fatima. I remember searching the stars for comfort, as I was doing now, only to be swallowed by despair in knowing any small droplet of decency I gave to the Runians was lost in a sea of cruelty. Another surge from the wretched tide of hate would surely be faced in the morning.

When the first hint of the rising sun grayed the sky, I rose and walked among the trees to where the stream cupped within a small hollow. At the far end of the pool, the water tumbled down a rock ledge and disappeared into the wilderness below. The glistening ripples beckoned me to shed my soiled clothing and immerse into the cool pond. I untied my hair so it fell around my shoulders and rinsed the grime of the road from my clammy skin. Slipping beneath the surface, I let the mild current gently flow through my hair. I tilted my head back and arched atop the water to float on my back. My aching body eased in the caress of the stream.

Suddenly, a deep splash plunked behind me, and the tight grip of a hand grabbed my arms and yanked me backward, dragging me through the water. A terrifying scream tore from my throat, but I was immediately plunged beneath the surface. Just as quickly, I was pulled up, spitting and sputtering for breath. All around me the long, heavy strands of a willow hung into the water like a curtain draped from branch to stream. In one forceful motion, I was swirled around in the waist-deep water. With two panicked blinks, the water drained from my eyes, clearing my vision.

"Marcus!" He stared down at me, wide-eyed and trembling, and I realized he was as shaken as I. "What is it? Is it Colt?"

"Do you know what could happen to you here alone? The thought of one of these dirty rascals stumbling onto you like this . . ."

One thought twisted me from head to toe. A need so strong it rose from my depths, bringing with it the only words that mattered to me. "Did you find Colt?"

Marcus hesitated, then nodded. "He looks to be breathin', but most o' the life has been beat outta him. He is hog-tied in a pen with two coloreds." Marcus looked at me intently. "That one- eyed snake is there watchin' over him."

"Twitch? My G.o.d, we must free Colt as quickly as possible. Twitch will torture him into an early grave, and take pleasure in doing so."

Marcus removed his shirt and wrapped it around me. "We'll go when tonight's moon rises."

"I know you are against me accompanying you, but . . ."

"All four of us will go," he said, not making me plead for his approval.

"Thank you, Marcus." I was relieved that he understood my need to provide support in Colt's rescue. "I must do all I can for him, no matter the outcome."

"I am sorry for bein' so hard on you about comin'. You ain't never stood in the way of me doin' what I gots the need to do. You deserve the same respect. I jes' didn't want no harm to come to you."

"I carry the same fear for you," I said, pressing my hand to his cheek. "A painful honor that comes with caring about one another."

There, with the weeping willow falling around us, my heart grew heavy with a foreboding notion that our lives would never be the same.

Chapter 37.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Marcus had carefully scratched a rough sketch in the soft dirt, marking where men, wagons, and tents were arranged in the narrow vale. Two crisscrossed lines pinpointed the pen imprisoning Colt. "There is roundabout two dozen men, but we are favored by surprise. They don't know we is here."

"Mo' men means mo' guns," James said, studying the drawing. "We only got two worn-out rifles 'tween us."

"Ain't no gettin' around that fact," Marcus said flatly. "But it ain't easy hittin' a movin' target in the dark. Their first instinct will tell 'em the attackers are comin' from the main road windin' down from the north. They won't expect it comes from behind by way o' the eastern ridge. We gots'ta be quick and scatter back into the woods befo' they get their wits about 'em."

Winston traced a line with his finger leading from the encampment back to the circle representing our carriage and point of escape. "Say again how we meet up after we tussle with them low-down dogs."

"After we move down the mountain at dusk, we'll spread apart about twenty to thirty paces with me leading the way, followed by Winston, Hannah, and then James in the rear. When we is close enough to taste the smoke of their campfire, we'll spread out to the points I marked here in the dirt. I will go to the edge of camp closest to where Colt is penned up and wait for the first shot to be fired. Winston, you and James take the guns and go to the far end of camp where the vale opens up toward the main road. Stay hidden in the trees, but get close enough to scare them from their blankets when you shoot them guns into the sky. If they think they is under fire from the soldiers they been scufflin' with, it should stir 'em good and give me my best chance at fetchin' Colt during the commotion. Hannah, you hang back some and stay hidden while we all get to our places. If you see any strangers scoutin' the woods, signal us. Can you do a call like a hoot owl?"

I shrugged. "I've never tried, but Colt taught me how to coo like a dove."

"I guess that will have to do." Marcus nodded his encouragement, then continued with his instructions. "Once you boys crack off a half-dozen shots, you get on back to the carriage as fast as you can, before them rascals figure out they ain't in any real danger. That means you too, Hannah. If the plan works in our favor, I will be on your heels with Colt in tow. When two or more o' you have made it back here, wait no mo' than the time it would take to pluck a chicken, then get these wheels rollin' fo' home. Any stragglers will catch up somewhere down the road. That gots'ta be the way of it. Do you all understand?"

I bristled at the thought. "What if only one of us has returned?"

Marcus took my hand. "You gots'ta leave before the night sky starts graying toward sunup, no matter who is here or who is not here. I know yo' heart will tell you different, but remember when I had to leave Livetta behind when she got shot? It gots'ta be done to give all of us the best chance of gettin' away. If any of us runs into trouble or gets delayed, we will follow on home. Jes' keep a watch on the horizon."

We all nodded in solemn agreement. I looked at each man, wishing to thank them for their courage, but I did not want my words to sound like I was bidding them farewell. Planting the seed of possible failure would do them no favor.

We were swift when the time came to move down the mountain. Moonlight trickled through the thick treetops, helping us navigate the rocky terrain. Marcus stopped in short intervals, leaving clues for us to follow later when we retraced our steps without his a.s.sistance. Simple and discreet, he placed three fist-sized stones at the base of intermittent trees, arranged horizontally in the direction to move. Indistinguishable to others, they served as our road map back to the carriage.

The first hint of smoky aroma in the air made my heart teeter. Soon, I could barely breathe; not because of our pace or the increasing smoke, but because we were closing in on our target. Ahead of me, Winston waved for me to stop. The sight of a rifle in his hand made evident the grave point we had reached. He took off to the right toward the lower pa.s.s and disappeared into the shadows. James's footsteps approached me from behind. When he saw me in the moonlight, he turned and followed in Winston's tracks.

About two hundred paces in front of me, Marcus stepped from behind a tree. He faced me, although we were no more than silhouettes in the night. He raised one hand and then the other, completing his distant half of a promise bridge. I raised each of my hands in return, holding them high until he had gone. I stood alone in the forest, unprepared for the sudden wave of despair that washed over me. It had been a long time since I felt useless, and the feeling did not sit well with me. Simply to wait and watch seemed purposeless. There had to be more I could do. My conscience whispered at first, then grew into a prodding roar. I swooped up the hem of my skirt and sprinted after Marcus. My intent was not to distract him, so I softened my steps when I caught a glimpse of him in the distance.

The flicker of flames reflected a kaleidoscope of orange and gold through the trees ahead of me. The length of the camp stretched out to my right toward the northern pa.s.s. Marcus disappeared again into the shadows along the backside of the camp. I guessed he was circling to the other side, perhaps to better position himself. I crept among the trees until I could see where the clearing spread wide. Crawling into a thicket of mountain laurel, I pulled back a branch to behold the enemy. Two fires crackled, their flames low to the ground and restrained for the night. One flickered far to my right, where James and Winston had run. At least twenty horses were secured to two long ropes tied along the tree line edging each side of the camp. I was relieved the animals were at a distance and not likely to stir at my presence. From my vantage point, there were at least four wagons as well. What was hidden in the darkness beyond the ring of firelight was uncertain. Lumps of blankets were scattered throughout the camp. Each one rose and fell in rhythm with the dozing breaths of men wrapped within. A log in the fire nearest me suddenly snapped and split in two, lifting a burst of hot sparks up into the blackness. There in the h.e.l.lish eruption, I saw him.

Twitch. He sat against a jagged rock directly across the camp from me. His hat was pulled down over his eyes, but there was no mistaking his worn snakeskin boots. He looked to be on guard, with arms folded across his chest and his shotgun propped between his knees, but the intermittent rising of his shoulders gave away his surrender to sleep. Just beyond the glow of the fire was a pen built the size of three wagons side by side. The structure was barely waist-high, and hunched within were three dark figures. My heart twisted although I could not distinguish which of these men was Colt. How I wished I could shoot Twitch between the eyes for what he had done.

Everything spread before me jolted when the bang of a rifle echoed through the vale from the area near the pa.s.s. Instantly, the men scrambled for weapons and the horses cried as they kicked and b.u.mped each other in spooked terror. Twitch bolted upright as well, and by the time the second shot rang out, he was in full battle mode. Voices barked back and forth.

"Soldiers comin' from the pa.s.s!"

"Get the gunpowder from the wagons," another snarled.

Then a crazy yelp p.r.i.c.kled the hairs on the back of my neck. "Yeehaaaw, we got us a fight!" Through the shadows, I saw the bounty hunter Shook raise a rifle over his head. "Come on, boys, let's whup some Yankee a.s.s!"

Everyone, including Twitch, took up arms in the direction of the shooters. The moment our end of the camp cleared of men, Marcus burst from the trees to my left. In his grasp was a large rock, which he used to pound against the padlock securing the pen. Marcus landed a fierce blow to the lock, cracking it into three pieces. He yanked the door off its hinges and tossed it aside. One imprisoned slave scrambled out, knocking Marcus aside as he broke free into the night. The next man crawled out, laboring on cramped legs.

"Which way is north?" he pleaded, as Marcus helped him to his feet. "I gots'ta go north!"

Marcus pointed up the mountainside, but before he could give the freed man any more direction, he limped into the tree cover. I turned back and saw Marcus crouched inside the pen, pulling Colt to the door. When they emerged, Colt was cramped and unable to straighten. Marcus braced his shoulder beneath Colt's underarm and lifted him to his feet. Colt's lips and left cheek were swollen to the point of distortion. Even his parched voice was barely recognizable. His injuries of limb and body appeared numerous, but he fought to right himself for flight. "Marcus?" His cloudy eyes glimmered slightly before a wave of dizziness buckled his knees.

"Stand strong, friend," Marcus urged gently. "We gonna get you out of here."

I could not stay idle, but no sooner had I unfolded from my tucked position when footsteps crunched along the tree line past me. Nearly exposed, I dropped back into the bushes and watched the lone figure stop halfway between me and where Marcus struggled with Colt.

"Well, looky here," sn.i.g.g.e.red a familiar voice, oozing with anger and surprise. He had his back to me so his face was hidden, but I recognized Twitch's mocking tone. "I always heard folks talk about killin' two birds with one stone, but the sight o' the two of you is just too sweet."

The haunting click of his thumb pulling the hammer back on his shotgun bolted me from the laurels. I leapt on Twitch's back as his gun fired. My unexpected blow knocked him forward, sending his shot ripping through the trees above us. Twitch swung his elbow around and drove it into my side, pummeling me onto the ground. I gasped for air as the stars above swirled. Colt's shocked voice brought me to my senses. "Hannah!"

The protective glint I had so often seen in his eyes sparked alive. He and Marcus broke toward me, but before they hit their second stride, Twitch pulled a pistol from his belt and blasted it at them. Marcus moved to shield Colt, but the shot knocked them backward through the air and onto the ground. I screamed in horror, but within seconds, Twitch dropped over me with his knees straddling my waist. He locked his hands on my throat until my cries were choked within me.

"Now, I am gonna do to you what my wicked fantasies have been doin' for years. You hear me, girl? Then when my l.u.s.t is drained and vengeance delivered, I will drive my huntin' knife through your darkylovin' heart."

Twitch chomped his mouth over mine. His slimy tongue pushed to separate my lips. I swung my arms, landing punches against his shoulders and face, but my strength was not enough. His long, rough fingers shackled my wrists in one of his hands. His triumphant cackle grew as he straightened up and started to unbuckle his belt with his other hand. His face bristled with hatred as my futile struggle against him fed his fury. Suddenly, a deafening shot rang out. Smoke puffed from Twitch's vest. His fingers twisted my wrists, then eased. He looked down at me, his eye slowly glazing over until it stared sightless, matching the other, long dead. He fell forward into the dirt next to me. Behind him stood Winston, his rifle still smoking. He lowered his gun and looked at Twitch's lifeless body. "Lawd help me, but I did de world a favor gettin' rid o' de likes o' you." Winston tossed the gun aside and rushed over to me. "You all right, Miz Hannah?"

Everything had happened so fast. I looked over at Marcus and Colt tangled in a motionless heap. I rolled over and frantically crawled in their direction.

"No, no, no!"

A bullet snapped against the ground near my hand. Excited voices called out from the far edge of the camp. "Did you hear them shots?" one voice shouted.

Another voice answered, "Someone is back yonder! I had 'em in my sights but missed. Load up quick!"

I was an arm's length from where Marcus and Colt lay. I reached for a limp hand, but was yanked to my feet before we touched. Winston pulled me toward the woods. Bullets nipped at our heels, giving us no time for turning back.