In my relief at seeing Livie alive and with regained strength and clarity of mind, I failed to take notice of Colt's frustration.

"I need a word with you outside, Hannah," he said curtly as he pressed an unusually gruff hand against the small of my back and directed me into the pines outside the hideaway.

"Keep walking," he said without giving clue as to the cause of his thinly veiled anger. "We'll speak once we are out of earshot of the others."

We continued through a break in the pines and up over the knoll leading to the eastern slope of the ridge overlooking the Red Hawk River. It was a pristine sight, but I knew we were not there to take in the view. I thought perhaps a compliment would soften his mood.

"I am so proud of your doctoring skills. You saved Livie's life. The feeling must bring you great satisfaction."

"The only feeling I have right now is sheer terror, and you should feel the same, Hannah. This situation is out of control. You are far too emotionally immersed with these people. We need to send them on their way before it's too late."

"Livie will not survive a perilous trip in her condition."

"She may not survive staying here either," he said. "My point is you have become too attached. You must distance yourself, because sentimental notions have no place in what we are doing."

"You probably expect me to agree with you, Colt, but I can't help thinking maybe sentimental notions have everything everything to do with it. My emotions are mine and mine alone. And they are not controlled by you or Aunt Augusta or anybody else, for that matter. Maybe it's time I face my emotions head-on and figure them out for myself." to do with it. My emotions are mine and mine alone. And they are not controlled by you or Aunt Augusta or anybody else, for that matter. Maybe it's time I face my emotions head-on and figure them out for myself."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" Colt growled.

"How dare you . . . ?"

"No, not you," he said, pointing down across the river. "Look!"

Just beyond the southern bend of the river, where the flatland stretched clear of the wooded landscape, a cloud of dust barreled its way along the red dirt road toward the river crossing on the distant banks of Echo Ridge.

"Have mercy! Is that Twitch heading back to West Gate so soon?"

It was a question that needed no answer. Even from our perch two miles above, I recognized the creaky, enclosed buckboard rattling along behind his two hard-driven palominos. And though we were too far away to see anything more than his disagreeable frame hunched over the reins, I felt his snarl right down to my bones.

"Come, we must put the fire out," Colt said, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the cave.

"Don't worry, Colt. Any billows rising up from the cave can't be seen in town. You told me that yourself. All the smoke gets funneled through the rock formations in the other direction."

Stumbling toward the cave entrance, Colt released me so he could bend and catch his breath. After a few deep breaths, he straightened up and regained his composure with a simple shift of his shoulders.

"A line of smoke from the cave might not be seen from town, but I am certain it will catch the eye of anyone approaching the ridge from the east or north."

"Even if Twitch sees it," I stammered, rea.s.suring myself aloud, "he may pay it no mind. Someone stoking a fire in the woods is as natural as rain falling from a pa.s.sing cloud."

"We can't take the chance, Hannah."

The pounding of my heart told me he was right. When we plunged back through the rocky wall, our concern and anxiety were reflected back at us from shadowed faces. Most of the group sat about nibbling morsels from the food rations Colt had supplied them. The pouches slung over their shoulders were weighted with enough cornmeal for a week's worth of ashcakes. The sight made me grateful they would not be sent away empty-handed, and that their unexpected stop in Echo Ridge would somehow better their chance of finding their way north. But once my eyes settled on Livie pa.s.sed out in the corner, any self-righteous thoughts I had about having done these people any favor was washed away by a wave of remorse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Colt approach Marcus.

"It's time for you to leave," he ordered. Marcus stood nose to nose with Colt and offered what amounted to a restrained bark of protest.

"Livetta can't be moved yet. She be dead 'fore we get to the next pa.s.s."

"It is too dangerous to stay," Colt said, not backing down. "It's only a matter of time before a group this size is discovered here. I insist you move on."

"In a few days . . . when Livetta is stronger."

Colt leaned into Marcus's puffed chest. "If you don't leave at nightfall, you could be hanging from a tree by midday tomorrow."

A scuffle of arms and legs broke out between them until Raizy and her son pulled the two apart. Both huffed and snorted at each other with fiery eyes, but neither raised a fist to continue the battle. Marcus shook Raizy off his arm and ran his hands up over his tight curls, as if raking through his thoughts with his fingers.

"Marcus," Raizy pleaded. "You said if someone can't go on, they gots'ta stay behind. That goes for yo' sister, same as the rest of us."

"I will not leave Livetta," he shot back. "Go on without us."

"We don't know the way," the oldest of the group countered. "Ain't right to bring us this far and then send us on blind."

"You jes' follow the drinking gourd in the night sky. You know that, old woman. Or watch for the moss growin' thick on the north side of the trees."

"But the drinking gourd ain't gonna show us where the safe pa.s.ses are through the mountains or where the favorin' light burns for us. Boy, you gots'ta lead the way, or we is doomed to die."

Marcus detached from the pressure by crouching beside Livie. She was awake now, and from the jumpiness in her eyes, it was clear she heard most of what was said.

"You ain't leavin' me, is you, Marcus?" She labored to a sitting position, until the pain leveled her onto her back. He tugged the blanket and smoothed it around her trembling body as she pleaded, "I'll be fine, Raizy. Ya'll see."

"No, Livetta," Marcus said, firmly. "You spilled a lot o' blood, so you is mighty weak. Pushing on will kill you fo' sure."

On my knees next to Marcus, I was mesmerized by the raw devotion between brother and sister. I never thought much about what transpired in the cabins of Mud Run, but the general opinion of my social peers was that familial bonds and intimate caring was not in the nature or of particular value to the slave population. But as witness to their pain, I could not stand by and leave them to their suffering.

"I will care for her," popped from me like an unexpected hiccup. Their heads turned to me in stunned silence. Words came quickly and without contemplation. "You can make safe pa.s.sage for the others while I look after Livie. Then you can come back for her when you are able."

"Hannah, you are not . . ." Colt began, until my determined glare made him swallow his thought.

"It makes perfect sense," I continued, before any more protests could be voiced. "One person is easier to hide than nine. Therefore, once you go, she will be out of danger."

"Please don't leave me with her, Marcus," Livie wailed. Marcus brooded with careful consideration, and I suspected he saw sense in my idea.

"Sounds right smart to me," Raizy chimed in from behind. "At least the chile has a chance if her legs is given time to grow strong enough to carry her feet north. You said you would turn south again to bring mo' to freedom once the path is put to memory in yo' head."

Livie shook her head and braced for what she read in her brother's distraught eyes. He looked at me with an intensity that hummed throughout my body. He turned the palm of one of his hands up in front of me. "Do you swear at the feet of sweet Jesus that you will look after her?"

"Of course," I said, hoping to mask the surprise that stiffened me from head to toe. I had never encountered a slave, fugitive or otherwise, who dared to speak so boldly, much less demand something of me. He seemed to want me to touch his upright hand, but I could never. . . .

"Promise me," he said louder as he grabbed one of my hands and squeezed it tight in his upright palm. As we touched, his raw emotion pierced through his powerful hand into mine and penetrated my defenses. he said louder as he grabbed one of my hands and squeezed it tight in his upright palm. As we touched, his raw emotion pierced through his powerful hand into mine and penetrated my defenses.

"Do you promise to see to it that Livetta is safe and has what she needs until I come back to fetch her?"

My breast heaved with an explosion of fear. My hand trembled in his, and try as I might, I could not calm the panic brought on by this breach of conduct. Yet my impulse was not to pull away. "Yes," I finally breathed as my throat unclenched.

He reached out with his free hand, this time more gently, and took my other hand and raised it to match the hands we still clasped. We tightened our grip by allowing our fingers to entwine. I could barely breathe as the presence of the others seemed to fall away around me. Marcus's eyes were now soft and reverent.

"This is a promise bridge," he said, squeezing my hands tightly to emphasize the connection. "And it bridges a promise from your heart to mine. It can't never be broken, because it is inside you now. It stays there forever and pa.s.ses on to all that comes from you, and is carried by your spirit when it rises to heaven. The promise is a part of you now, understand?"

His words held on to my heart as firmly as his hands folded with mine. The emotion created by the bridge between us overwhelmed me. No man had ever been so forthright in my presence, not even Colt, who hid his occasional flirtation behind a playful tickle or peck on the cheek. Far from childhood at nearly twenty years old, I was still handled like a delicate rose by all who engaged me. My head dizzied in a bewildering swirl of conflict and commitment as I allowed this man to hold me in his grasp for an inappropriate period of time. This black man. A slave. This black man. A slave. It was an astounding transgression that I could not right with sense or reason. Yet it also released something untapped within that filled me with intrigue and amazement. Bolstered by an awakening I could not yet fully understand, I held my fear at bay and returned the clasp of his hand as intently as it was given, and whispered, "Yes, I promise, Marcus. I promise with heart and soul." It was an astounding transgression that I could not right with sense or reason. Yet it also released something untapped within that filled me with intrigue and amazement. Bolstered by an awakening I could not yet fully understand, I held my fear at bay and returned the clasp of his hand as intently as it was given, and whispered, "Yes, I promise, Marcus. I promise with heart and soul."

Chapter 7.

With a nod of approval, Marcus let go of my hands and reached for Livie, who was sniffling softly against the sleeve of her dress. I remained propped on my knees, unaware of my limp hands dangling in the air until I looked up into Colt's perplexed face. He stared at me, thinking thoughts that were impossible to read. My head lowered along with my hands; I did not want to be judged in his eyes.

"I hear dogs yelpin'," Lillabelle said, dragging a bucket through the cave entrance.

Her mother ran to her and pulled her to her feet. "What you doin' out there, chile? You gonna be seen!"

"I went fetchin' water from the stream fo' Livetta. Don't be angry, Mama, 'cuz I was 'specially quiet in case any paddy rollers was lookin' about."

"Don't you ever go off on your own again, Lillabelle." Marcus came across the cave to lift her chin so she could see the alarm in his face. "Now, tell me about the dogs."

"I heared 'em comin' from down yonder where they gunned Livetta."

Colt grabbed my hand and stepped to Marcus. "We'll go down the mountain to intercept any danger heading this way. If we can't stop it, I will squeeze off one shot of my rifle to give you time to scatter. If there is no gun blast, then you are safe for now. But heed my warning and be on your way with the twitter of the first night cricket, so your tracks are cold and faded by morning."

I eased the tension between them when I added, "I will be back tomorrow with more provisions for Livie."

With that, we parted from our band of runaways. As Colt and I cut a hasty path back through the pine hollow, I looked over my shoulder and saw Marcus staring from the cave entrance. I am sure I saw him nod just before Colt jerked my elbow to keep my attention moving in his direction. I kept stride with Colt around the still waters of Emerald Cove to the steep path descending the mountainside. Near the meadow, I heard the first low bellow of the hounds, just as Lillabelle had said. No effort was wasted on words as we scampered down from the peak. Using our hands like tobacco machetes, we slapped our way through the underbrush as Twitch and his dogs pounced over the far knoll of the meadow, followed by his slave driver, w.i.l.l.y Jack.

I immediately took Colt's hand to slow his pace. Under normal circ.u.mstances, the mere sight of Twitch riled Colt's defenses, and I did not want Twitch to sense any added uneasiness. Not much got by Twitch's demon eye. He had a way of observing and deciphering situations that peeled away layers until the heart of the matter was revealed and vulnerable. I suppose that was what made him good at what he did, but it was unnerving to those under his scrutiny. By the time our paths met in the tall gra.s.s of the meadow, his hounds were barking and running in circles around us.

"Gracious be, Twitch. Calm these crazy animals," I said, feigning a casual lilt.

Twitch gave the one nearest me a boot in the haunches that sent it yelping back over the hill, with three others giving chase. w.i.l.l.y Jack waited about twenty paces away, knowing it was not his place to join the group.

"When did you ride in?" Colt asked without masking his disdain. "I thought you would be gone a week or more."

Twitch fixed his good eye on him as he tongued a wad of tobacco inside his bulging cheek, before spewing a dark stream down toward Colt's boots. "Then you thought wrong, Purebred. Anyway, when I come and go ain't none o' your d.a.m.n business."

"If you are fresh off the road," I jumped in, hoping to tame Twitch's foul mood, "what brings you up on the mountain? Ol' Uncle Mooney better not be working you too hard. A man's got the right to put up his feet and relax after a long journey."

"Ain't seen the ol' man, but I spied a line o' smoke up on the peak when I came across the flatlands. Gonna have me a look around."

"Well, if you are curious about the smoke, it was just Colt and me. We had a fire going earlier."

"That's right," Colt said. "I decided to do a little hunting."

"And with Aunt Augusta gone, Colt let me tag along."

Twitch squeezed his dead eye closed and studied us. Then he tugged at the limp rabbit hanging on Colt's belt.

"You kill that?"

Colt was taken off guard because he had apparently forgotten about the rabbit Marcus had given him in the cave. He yanked the animal back from Twitch. "Let's just say it's none of your your d.a.m.n business," Colt said, posturing himself for trouble. d.a.m.n business," Colt said, posturing himself for trouble.

Twitch let out a whoop of craggy laughter. "You think I am stupid or somethin'? I know what the two of you are up to."

My heart sank like a rock in my chest. Were we that transparent? Or was it simply that his instincts were as keen as he often boasted? Visions of bloodthirsty hounds tearing at dark, defenseless flesh swirled in my mind. From the corner of my eye, I saw the subtle movement of Colt's finger sliding in position over the trigger of the rifle tucked in the crook of his arm. But would a warning shot give them enough time?

"You think I can't see the dirt on the front o' your dress where you was on your knees?" Twitch grinned with rotted teeth. "You may have snuck off into the trees, but it wasn't to do no huntin'." Twitch cackled back over his shoulder toward w.i.l.l.y Jack. "There ain't even no buck-shot in that mangy hare."

Colt raised his fist to deliver a blow to the filthy-mouthed snake, but I caught him by the arm. I knew that once I had the chance to digest Twitch's insinuations, I would be as fiery as an angry bull, but for now I figured it was best he believed his t.i.tillating fantasy rather than have him look to uncover some other reason for Colt and me to be on the peak.

Seeing Colt's restrained anger, Twitch looked squarely at him. "Guess I don't need to waste time sniffin' the smoke of another man's fire. Maybe Hannah will hunt with me next time. I been known to spark a fire or two myself." Then, winking his dead eye in my direction, he added, "The torch down in my belly burns a might hotter than straight-laced Colt's."

With one forceful yank, Colt freed his arm from my grasp and clamped his hand across Twitch's throat. Twitch quickly countered by swiping a knife from the leather pouch tied on his belt. The sleeve on Colt's outstretched arm creased under the pressure of Twitch's blade.

"Take your hand off me, Purebred, or it will be the last thing you use it for."

The veins bulging in Colt's neck pulsated as deep shades of red migrated across his face. I slipped a gentle hand under his arm.

"Don't let him bait you, Colt."

Finally, he forced his uncooperative hand to let go. Colt echoed Twitch's gasp as the fierce stalemate ended with each taking a guarded step back. Twitch holstered his knife, then crinkled his face into a devilish smirk. Satisfied he had won the standoff, he turned and headed back down the meadow toward West Gate. And although the threat was only temporarily defused, I breathed a little easier with each step he took in the opposite direction.

Once back in the quiet retreat of my bedchamber, I was awash with thoughts and emotions. My worries were buffered by the fact that Aunt Augusta was on leave from the house, allowing me sufficient privacy to sort out my thoughts. Am I crazy thinking I can keep Livie safe? Where will Marcus and the others go from here? When will he return? Is that his touch still lingering on my fingertips? Am I crazy thinking I can keep Livie safe? Where will Marcus and the others go from here? When will he return? Is that his touch still lingering on my fingertips? So much had happened, I could barely digest it all. To calm my uneasiness, I busied myself with needlework in the sewing room. By the time Esther Mae tapped on the door, it was time for supper. When Aunt Augusta was away, it was Colt's habit to have dinner with me; however, I was not surprised to find myself alone at the dining table. Although a degree of uneasiness came with his absence, I believed it was for the best. I was not in the mood for polite chatter with someone whose stubborn insistence at driving the runaways onward could very well put them on the path of inevitable capture. So much had happened, I could barely digest it all. To calm my uneasiness, I busied myself with needlework in the sewing room. By the time Esther Mae tapped on the door, it was time for supper. When Aunt Augusta was away, it was Colt's habit to have dinner with me; however, I was not surprised to find myself alone at the dining table. Although a degree of uneasiness came with his absence, I believed it was for the best. I was not in the mood for polite chatter with someone whose stubborn insistence at driving the runaways onward could very well put them on the path of inevitable capture.

Upon scooping the last few morsels of snap beans and pearl onions from my plate, I told Esther Mae I would take my tea on the front porch. I settled on the rocker and creaked in rhythm to the evening chorus accompanying the sun as it lowered in the sky before me. Uncle Mooney's blacksmith, silent James, led a team of workhorses to the stables. James was hired out to Hillcrest to fulfill Winston's duties when Aunt Augusta's business took her away for more than a day or two. James stood tallest of the West Gate slaves, with broad, powerful shoulders and muscled arms chiseled from days spent fulfilling blacksmith duties between the two plantations. His shirt was stripped of both sleeves, with the frayed edges waving surrender to the girth of his arm. He rarely spoke, even to the other slaves, and lived by himself in the loft of the barn used as a forge and farrier shop.

Colt told me James was won in a poker game while Uncle Mooney conducted business down in Mississippi. I overheard Granny Morgan tell Esther Mae that James had a wife and baby sold south before he came to West Gate, which left him with a defiant streak. I did not know if the quarter gossip was true, but it would explain why his master used him to pay off a gambling debt to Uncle Mooney. James was tied to a wagon and returned to West Gate, where he spent his first few weeks in leg and neck shackles secured in the back lot, while Twitch made it known to all that he would break this powerful new buck same as the rest. The last two days of the process, he corralled the slaves of both properties to bear witness to the whippings and watch as the raw wounds were washed in brine until he succ.u.mbed. From that point on, James gave in to his new master with detached obedience.

Watching James now, I thought again about the heart-wrenching separation taking place between Marcus and Livie. The flutter in my heart forced my eyes toward Mud Run. The huddled cabins looked no different than they did any other day, except the life and activity there appeared more vivid to me. What do they talk about inside those cabins? Does James think of his wife and child when he is in the barn, alone with his thoughts? Was Esther Mae missing Winston when she walked down over the knoll with her head drooped to one side? What do they talk about inside those cabins? Does James think of his wife and child when he is in the barn, alone with his thoughts? Was Esther Mae missing Winston when she walked down over the knoll with her head drooped to one side? For me, the shuffle of the slaves from field to cabin simply marked the time of day. And though I often heard the mournful songs that accompanied their migration, I never noticed until now their hunched shoulders and weary faces reflecting the toil of their day. For me, the shuffle of the slaves from field to cabin simply marked the time of day. And though I often heard the mournful songs that accompanied their migration, I never noticed until now their hunched shoulders and weary faces reflecting the toil of their day.

Shaken by a sudden chill, I crossed my arms tightly against my chest. A thick haze pushed what was left of the setting sun from view. There was no orange glow to punctuate the end of the day, but rather a birdless gray sky brewing dark with storm clouds. A steady wind picked up from the southwest. Loose strands of hair blew across my face and signaled me to make my retreat. I closed the door against the unsettled dust. If the clouds drew near enough to roll over the mountain, the night ahead would be a fury.

A sudden crash of thunder sprang me upright in my bed as walls and windows shook around me. Lightning flashed across my room with nary a pause in between. I pulled my bed jacket snug around my shoulders and went to the north window. Rain pelted loudly against the pane, and the trees of Mud Run were throwing fits against the wind. I worried for Marcus and the other runaways. I knew they would not delay their trek through the mountains, but battling a fierce, drenching gale in the thickness of night might be equally as treacherous as Twitch cornering them with his hounds. Is the call of the North so strong it will coax them blindly into the belly of the storm? Or is it the misery from which they flee driving them into h.e.l.l, seeking a better fate? Is the call of the North so strong it will coax them blindly into the belly of the storm? Or is it the misery from which they flee driving them into h.e.l.l, seeking a better fate?

A jagged bolt of lightning sliced through the ominous blackness above the peak. My thoughts went to Livie alone in Copperhead Cave. Each thunderous crash poked a fretful jab at my conscience until I was terrified for her. I opened my hand and touched the palm where Marcus had wrapped his fingers while I vowed to take care of Livie. He was right. I could feel the promise that bridged us. So I hastily put on the dress I had worn earlier and bundled together two quilts, a cotton dress, and fresh undergarments all wrapped in a wool blanket. Downstairs, I was careful not to rouse Granny Morgan, who slept in a room adjacent to the root cellar. I lit the oil lamp on the table, threw a cloth rag over it to shield it from the rain, and set off on a perilous journey up the heaving mountain.

The veil of night was torn away by bursts of white lightning. I shouldered the storm as best I could while holding the lamp and bundle close to my breast so they would not fall victim to the driving rain. Neither courage nor sense of duty kept my feet moving forward. It was the thought of someone like me, out there alone and afraid, that coaxed me from my warm bed. Trudging my way up to the peak, I ducked under my cloak with each explosion of thunder, convinced the sky was crashing down upon my lowered head. I found relief from the downpour in the tall pines of the hollow, although the echo chamber within the woods sent me running for the cave.

At first, the screams were barely distinguishable from the crashing heavens, but as I neared the cave, Livie's terrified cries pierced through the storm. I pushed through the entrance, balancing my wares. I had forgotten Colt had suffocated the fire earlier, so the soft glow of my lamp barely smudged the pitch-blackness. The lightning that danced outside the opening high above reflected eerily from wall to wall, and I saw a quick flash of Livie at the far end of the cave.

"Livie, it's me, Hannah," I called. "Don't be frightened."

After stumbling across her makeshift bed, I found Livie where she had crawled into a corner. She was huddled behind a rock, with her eyes fixed upward where the lightning penetrated her shelter. An uncontainable wail rose from her with each jolt of thunder that shook through the cave. I reached out to touch her shoulder, but it only heightened her cries.

"I shall light a fire," I yelled. "The storm won't seem so bad then."

Strewn across the pit was a modest array of partially burned wood. I pushed the pieces up against each other as I had observed Marcus do, and found a neat pile of kindling he had wisely left for our use. I was grateful for his forethought, because it would have been impossible to find a dry stick of wood outside the protection of the cave. I arranged the sticks between the logs, and then touched some pine needles with the flaming wick of my lamp. The needles torched warmly, igniting the twigs until finally the logs were ablaze. The cave filled with a crackling orange glow as the fire took hold.

"Much better," I said as I snuffed the flame of my lamp and set it aside. "No sense wasting wick and oil. I shall leave the lamp for you to use at another time."