by Riva Zmajoki
Cynthia stayed outside the hotel they were in. She didn’t have the desire to face her old mistress and being called out for the lack of loyalty. The Marshal promised her that he’s catching her lover and not her so Cynthia didn’t feel too bad about herself.
She felt a certain dose of glee waiting to see their prey but her Marshal went out alone. He looked pale and defeated.
“Where are they?” she was confused, their lead was certain.
“There but that isn’t the woman I was looking for,” he rubbed his forehead. “We should head back.”
They were on the train again and there was silence between them. Cynthia wasn’t satisfied. She didn’t like prospects of returning to York. Too many wrong moves were made there. Maybe somewhere else.
“Will you tell me where Santos is?” she spoke up finally.
Maybe she can go and find him. If he isn’t interested, she can find a job in a new town.
“I don’t know,” the Marshal said absently. “He didn’t say but I suspect he went further south.”
“You lied to me,” she was furious now.
He looked at her impassively.
“Of course I did. Didn’t you realize by now that men lie? That’s how they get what they want.”
“I hate you all,” she shouted.
He just smiled gently.
“Don’t regret too much. Santos didn’t tell you but with him, there would be a great chance of having black babies.”
That was like a bucket of cold water sprayed in her face. The black didn’t bother her but the mention of children. She didn’t want to have any. Young men wanted children.
Cynthia looked at the Marshal.
“Maybe you could court me?” she offered.
The Marshal laughed in her face.
“It’s not that strange. We’re on the road alone for days now. Anything could happen. I could smear your good name. I could lie as men do.”
He shook his head.
“You’re so young it’s adorable,” he patted her hand. “You can’t smear a man’s reputation like that, you can only lift its value. In my case, it would be a great improvement if the rumour was that I was indecent with a girl.”
She didn’t have the time to ask him what he meant because the train stopped.
“What happened,” the Marshal asked the conductor.
“There is a battle straight ahead at Manassas.”
“A battle?” the Marshal was confused.
“Didn’t you hear? The war started. The question of slaves will cost us many lives,” the conductor shook his head and went on.
“War?” Cynthia was fearful now.
“It’s probably just a showing off. I doubt that it will last. The Union has too many troops to be challenged like that. I thought they were just showing feathers to keep their slaves.”
“Their slaves?” Cynthia snorted, the fear passed. “Weren’t you just at the slave-hunt?”
“I just did what the law obliges me to do. If the law changes I’ll be tasked to catch those who keep slaves. When that happens, my brother will be the first one on my list because he won’t yield to no one.”
The train didn’t move. After an hour the Marshal got up.
“Stay in the train,” he said to her. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll go and see do they need assistance.”
“No chance in Hell that I’ll stay here alone,” she said and followed him.
Tricia felt alone and abandoned. There was no one of her own to meet or talk to. Sue was consumed by her family life.
“There is so much work to do when you’re on your own,” she said when they met on the street. “There is no one to trade your chores with.”
Tricia nodded and they talked some more.
She hasn’t seen her since.
Tricia found work. She was a wash girl in a fancy townhouse. That meant that she spent her days bent over the basin not meeting anyone.
“The main job of a wash girl is no to be seen,” the housekeeper told her. “If you want to earn your pay, don’t let me see you resting.”
Her schedule was merciless. She would clean the house while the tenants were away. When they were in, she would wash clothes and dishes. She could feel her spine bending, her will weakening.
The solitude was maddening.
The life in White Phoenix now seemed like a pleasant dream where she had friends she could laugh with. Her old mistress seemed like a long lost mother that would smile at her while she passed her by at the corridor.
Now she couldn’t fathom why she feared her so.
If she ever has the fortune to meet her again, Tricia will hug her tightly. That thought made her smile. She could envision how her mistress would be surprised but pleased.
The only thing that kept her working on and not boarding the train with the money the mistress gave her before they parted was the question of Santos.
Tricia was still stubborn enough to want to know was she right or was she wrong. She waited for him to return and tell her who he is. Then she’ll know whether to slap him across his face or to finally kiss him.
There was no doubt in her mind that he will return. If only he doesn’t go into war to die without releasing her from her silent promise.
No matter how harsh the world was to her and how many promises it broke towards her, she was still the same person. The one who honoured her promises.
Father talked as they went through the streets of Camden.
“Here I learned how to swim. Here your grandma had a tailor shop. Here we would go on Sunday nights.”
It was strange to see the place from which they came. It was like he had roots and wasn’t just a product of roaming.
The streets were neat and wide. Trees were tall. Houses white.
“Stop here,” father said and Santos complied like a good son not asking many questions. “Ask for the master of the house to come and speak to me.”
Santos went down the long path towards the house.
“My passenger wants to talk to the master of the house,” he said formally like he would in any of his delivery tasks.
The short man that looked familiar exited and looked at him with suspicion.
“He’s in the back of the carriage.”
The man walked towards his father but as soon as he could see his face he stopped.
“I’m not to be joked around with. Why would I want to speak to a slave? You’re wasting my time.”
“Francis,” his father spoke up loudly. “Where is Luiz right now?”
“He’s a fool,” Francis answered irritated and Santos realized that he’s standing before Luiz’s brother. “Who cares where he roams? He was at that big battle in Manassas. They brought him down to Sumter’s field hospital. Like he didn’t do enough being a Marshal. Now he’ll die for nothing. He should be here helping and not bringing shame to me out there. Still, can’t imagine why a slave would be interested in his business.”
Francis stepped step closer and then froze.
Santos felt the tension in the air.
“I am sorry about your father although he had no right doing what he did,” his father said.
Francis pulled out his shotgun. Santos jumped at him but the shotgun fired.
“I have every right to kill my slave,” Francis pushed Santos of him. “He is mine. The papers were signed. She had no right to fight him.”
Santos got up just to see his father lying down with a bullet in his side.
“Leave him alone,” Santos pushed Francis away. “You have no right here. He is a free man.”
Francis snorted.
“A free dead man,” Francis spat on the ground.
“Your brother is a twice a man you are,” Santos sneered at him.
Francis smiled.
“Maybe, but he chose to be poor and I have everything. I got even the revenge he was incapable of reaching. He had Belva in his grasp and just let her slide. I’m not like him. My work here is done. You’ll die slowly and in pain.”
With that, Francis turned around and went towards his house.
Santos grabbed the pistol.
“No,” his father grabbed his hand. “The only way to defeat his kind is to succeed. To live and to be everything you can be. If you kill him, you’ll only prove him right. Be a better man than he is than I am, and I’ll be avenged.”
“Let me pull that bullet out,” Santos leaned over the wound. “It doesn’t seem so bad. It didn’t enter all the way in. We’ll find a doctor.”
“No,” Evan held his hand. “I’ll die anyway. I’m too weak to recover. Leave the bullet in. I’ve seen it many times. As soon as you pull it out the blood comes pouring and you die instantly. Take me to Sumter.”
“He’ll just shoot you too.”
“I know it’s dangerous but I need to see Luiz one more time,” his father said and Santos felt tears filling his eyes.
If his father was dying, he can’t deny him his request.
“Alright,” he complied as a good son would and started their journey towards Sumter.
Every tumble ached Santos. He feared that his father won’t make it alive till Sumter. Santos prayed that he would. He hoped that he’ll be able to give his father that last thing before he leaves Santos forever.
It was dark when they arrived at Sumter. Santos talked to people and soon found the ones who knew him.
“The boss is ill,” the deputy said. “No one can go and see him. He’s in the hospital. They say he won’t last long.”
“Then it’s even more urgent,” Santos insisted. “This is a criminal he chased around York. Help me. He’ll die happy knowing that he’s caught.”
The deputy nodded. At the hospital, they brought they wanted to carry his father but he insisted that he can walk.
Santos supported his weight and soon they were at the door. Luiz lied on the bed all yellow and weak.
“Leave us,” Luiz shouted at the staff, his voice sounded strong. “Can’t a man have some privacy on his death bed? All of you, out!”
Everyone left except Santos.
“Please,” Evan looked at his son. “Will you give us a moment?”
Santos looked at Luiz and nodded.
“I’ll mend the door,” he said and exited.
On the corridor, he sat at the floor leaned against the door and cried.
12.3 The Cold Trail
Between Tiles
Evan looked at the sky. The wheels rocked on the hard ground. Evan’s stomach hurt but he stayed quiet.
He was grateful to his son for saving him but he felt like the end is near. He didn’t feel well at all.
Still, he didn’t want to bother his son.
“Leave the bullet in,” he said when Santos covered his wound.
For Evan, that bullet was an exit card.
The wounds on his back were infected and caused his fever but he had survived that kind of wounds before.
This time he was sure that he doesn’t want to move on.
His purpose in this world was fulfilled.
The war had started. In it, the destiny of all slaves will be decided. His wife was protected by another man and his daughters were well. His son was a grown man who could make his strides through the world on his own.
When they were expelled from their home, Evan was just about his age.
Evan was hesitating to take a step in the outside world, to find his destiny.
It was clear that he won’t be welcomed into the family business. He couldn’t just go out and join the slaves in the field.
There were no blacks working in the stores.
Evan couldn’t think of what to do. He felt like his hands were tied. He couldn’t find a service as a servant because that would insult his family but he couldn’t find anything respectable because of the colour of his skin.
His papers said that he was free, that he was a fully recognized grandson from his deceased grandfather but his colour was all the information people needed to reject him, to refuse to even look at him.
“You can come and live with me,” Luiz said one day jokingly.
“Don’t be silly,” Evan shook his head. “Your father would never agree to have a black man in his house that isn’t his slave.”
“Well, you can be my personal slave,” Luiz said with humour on his lips and Evan laughed.
He didn’t think of it further because there were more fun things to do.
“Don’t worry,” Luiz ruffled his hair afterwards, he was always fascinated by Evan’s hair. “You’re smart, you’ll think of a way. I have faith in you. Besides, my offer stands.”
Evan rolled his eyes and left it at that.
When Luiz’s father came in with the money, that memory made him freeze.
“The boy can’t object,” he looked at Evan fiercely with anger in his eyes and Evan knew that he knew their secret. “Why would he object of being taken in where he wants to go?”
Evan stood there unable to move, unable to speak. He was terrified. Terdreau’s eyes looked upon him promising him pain. He was a vicious man. Evan could never believe that he would do anything kind for anyone with dark skin tone. There were many nights when Luiz would come through his window.
“The noise was too loud, I couldn’t take it anymore,” he would say and Evan knew that his father is out in the barracks whipping slaves drunk and angry.
He would just hug Luiz and they would lie there waiting for the dawn when Luiz would disappear like he never was.
The money exchanged hands and Evan said nothing, he knew that if he speaks Terdreau will expose him before everyone, he’ll tell them, his mother will know.
“Excellent,” Terdreau took the paper. “My son’s birthday is near, he needs a personal slave.”
Evan was shaking before the glee in his voice. At that moment, his mother came and as a force of nature fell on Terdreau. Before he knew it, Terdreau lied on the ground dead.
The family was screaming.
His mother pulled him by his hand and soon they were out on the road. All Evan could think about, was that Luiz asked Evan and he said no, to be a slave.
As they went further and further away from their home, the reality of their situation became clear to him. His mother became a murderer because of him. Because he loved the wrong boy and because that boy wanted to own him.
There was no justification for Luiz telling anything to his father. No justification at all. The fact that Evan loved him didn’t mean that he could ever own him, it didn’t mean that Evan would give up his freedom for him.
When they stopped, his pistol fell to the ground. Evan picked it up.
‘Love can’t be wrong,’ it said.
The sight of it ached him so he gave it to his mother to change the meaning of those words.
“Owning someone is wrong,” he said to his mother afterwards.
“Then we’ll put an end to it,” she answered and they got a new purpose.
Evan ran around freeing slaves. He was affirming that he is a free man. Every once in a while he could see Luiz trailing after them. The sight would cement his determination further.
Now Luiz returned his pistol and released his claim over Evan.
Instead of relief, Evan felt hollow. There was no purpose left for Evan.
In the end, Francis did him a favour. He gave him the cork that he can pull out and let himself die slowly, to face his death on his own terms.
Before he’s free to do that, he has to look Luiz in the eye and ask him why he betrayed them to his father.
The death wouldn’t take him even in the battle. Luiz ran and screamed entering the battle on the Union side. There was a sort of redemption in him choosing a side of freedom but he wasn’t so selfless in his pursuit.
He just wanted to die but the death refused to come to him. It seemed that every shot would miss him and shoot someone else.
He didn’t shoot to kill. All those young men around him looked fearful and young, all of them ready to live but fighting on.
In the hospital, they patched him up.
“Where do you want to be sent,” the nurse asked him. “This is a field hospital. We’re transferring patients further. I’m sorry but you don’t have a uniform, I don’t know on which side you fought.”
Luiz looked around and saw young men. Those with Union uniforms had guards by their sides. Those in Confederate colours were left alone to moan.
“To Camden, home,” he said and she nodded.
He was loaded into a train with the rest of the wounded. They all were transported out and he kept going.
They put him in a bed in Sumter.
“This is close enough,” he said to the nurse.
His brother came and sat beside his bed.
“You knew what father did, you knew that he bought Evan,” Luiz said finally.
“He did. He bought him for my birthday because I promised that I’ll punish that boy instead of father,” Francis said calmly. “I told father what I saw by the river. The two of you. That boy corrupted your heart. He needed to be punished.”
“Father was punished instead and you with him,” Luiz said quietly.
“How was I punished?” Francis straightened himself up.
“You inherited everything, just like you wanted, pushing me out and became a monster you are, just like father taught you,” Luiz whispered.
“I’m not a monster,” Francis got up shouting at him.
“Tell that to yourself while the world cries around you,” Luiz turned his head away from him.
“I have everything I could want,” Francis leaned over him.
“Of course, you do. You have children who fear you and a wife that hates you,” Luiz straightened his sheet. “Don’t come to see me again. We two are done.”
“You’re just delusional from your fever,” Francis said after a pause. “That’s the fever talking. You wouldn’t want to ruin it all for me. Not over a slave that had no bounds over you.”
Luiz just stared at the wall and finally, Francis left.
The days dragged on and death was slow to come for him.
When the familiar face appeared Luiz thought that he already died. The death seemed merciful enough to present him with a kind face. The face he once loved. The face he never stopped loving.