“Mama?” Hannah said.
Her daughter’s voice jarred her out of her lethargy.
“Yes.” She rose from bed and slipped a fresh dress over her head. While her fingers worked the buttons on the bodice and smoothed the skirt, she shivered and stepped where Hannah could see her. “Come on down.”
“Me first,” Hannah declared, but Amos squeezed in front of her and scrambled for the ladder.
“Amos, that wasn’t nice.” Ella stood at the bottom of the ladder and took note of his bare feet and bug-bitten legs. “You need pants on.”
“Nooo.” Amos gave her an impish grin, reminding her of Samuel.
Samuel, what happened to you? How can I tell you Jim is gone? She poured water in a large wooden bowl and washed her face and then the children’s faces. I got to act like nothin’s wrong. Cain’t let them know I’m carryin’ a heavy load.
Amos sputtered and fought. “Cold, cold!” he yelped, twisting his face out of her hands.
She brushed Hannah’s hair, braided it into two long plaits, and tied it with faded blue ribbons. With a bone-handled hairbrush, Ella brushed her own long hair and recklessly tore at the snarls in it. Nothing mattered about her appearance any more. She braided her hair and wrapped the braid into a tight coil at the back of her head.
And after coaxing Amos into clothes, she stepped outside. Her eyes searched for Luke, but he wasn’t near the cabin or clearing. Everything was still … deserted-feeling. She immediately wanted to throw up, sickened by panicky thoughts swamping her mind. Luke wasn’t even out by the barn tending to the animals.
“Where has he gone?”
Ella feared she may have done a foolish thing by letting a stranger—a runaway slave—use their only weapon whenever he wanted. Jim’s gun had not been found with his body. With regret she had not kept her only weapon near her bed, she fought to shove instant fear out of her mind.
“Stay close,” she said to the children. She knelt by the fire pit and stirred the coals from the night before. With moss and twigs, she started the day fire. If she kept it hot enough, there wouldn’t be an abundance of smoke.
Happy to play near the warmth of the fire, the children started their day by scooping the fine white sand in their hands and building small hills. Ella had to smile. Her children adapted fairly well to the changing circumstances, and laughter often laced their times of play. Sorrow had not weighed them down, after the initial shock. Each passing day brought Jim to their minds, but the heavy storm of tears had been short-lived.
Little Amos struggled with the whole idea of death. He kept thinking his papa would soon leave Heaven and come back to them.
Breakfast consisted of four eggs and hot flapjacks. The children sat on a log to eat. “I’m wishin’ we had us some maple fixin’s.” Hannah’s blue eyes held a sad glint. “Mama, can we find a tree an’ catch some?”
“Come spring, perhaps,” she muttered, wondering where they would be by then. “We should …” Her keen ears caught the sound of a gun toward the east.
Hannah paused with her food halfway to her lips. “Mama? A gun?”
“Yes. Eat.” She touched her finger to her lips, asking for silence.
Does the gunshot mean danger or Luke huntin’?
The sound didn’t repeat itself, but it echoed in her head. Don’t let fear control you. Cling to God’s promises.
“Go to the porch when you’ve finished,” she whispered, getting up from the log.
Hannah grabbed her rag dolls from the ground. “Amos, hold Susie whilst I tend to Baby Brother.” She put a faceless rag doll in her brother’s lap.
“No, want ‘im!” Amos pushed the floppy, faceless doll off his legs. He spooned the remainder of his breakfast in his mouth and pointed at a doll Hannah pretended was a boy. “That one.”
“No, I need to rock him to sleep. Pick Sister up.” She started for the porch, her head held high.
Amos pouted, still asking for the boy doll.
Hannah stopped with a hand on one hip. “Amos, I’m older. You need to listen. Pick her up if you wanna play.”
With an exasperated sigh, Amos bent and retrieved the limp, cloth doll. He held it up by one ragged arm, just as a low whistle sounded from the woods.
“Shh! Get inside!” Ella pushed the children ahead of her, grabbed Jim’s old machete, and stood on the porch—waiting.
Luke emerged from the edge of the woods and strode toward her. His handsome face broke into a wide smile. His loose curls hung to his shoulders. In his right hand, he held the gun.
“I figured we needed some meat. I took a chance. Hope no one heard.” He dumped the body of a wild shoat on the ground. “He’s little.”
“Oh, it’s God-sent.” Ella clapped her hands. I’ve judged him so wrong a second time!
“Caught him coming out of the swamp near the river. I’ll gut him, singe the hide, and do the roasting. As I recall … I owe you some meat.” He ignored the machete in her hand and handed the gun to her. “Ma’am, you need a cook shed out here. We can’t roast a large animal inside.”
She nodded in agreement, but said, “I’m not sure I know how to build one.”
“We’ll build one.” Luke hefted the small hog. “Let me hang and gut this. I’ll be back.” He walked to the nearest tree with low-spreading limbs.
“Kin I go watch ’im?” Hannah slipped out of the cabin.
“Me, too!” Amos scrambled for the steps.
“No. He don’t need you underfoot. Stay on the porch.”
Luke watched Ella pat Amos on the head and send him back to play with the girl. He marveled at the petite woman’s fortitude. Her face appeared pale beneath the splattering of freckles coloring her cheeks and nose, but never once, in the past few weeks, had he seen her totally give in to the despair. Even at the river, where he and the Seminole braves ate her food, Ella had showed amazing fortitude.
He knew her situation was dire, and his presence only temporary. He couldn’t let himself get caught. It would mean awful punishment or death if he was delivered to the plantation in Virginia.
I’ll never go back!
A cooler breeze touched his face, and he sighed. The nights were cool, but the weather seemed determined to heat up the daytime hours. He wished for autumn and the changing weather of Virginia. He missed the brisk snap in the air heralding the change of the seasons.
While his hands gutted and cleaned the hog, his ears remained attuned to noises and the chatter of children on the porch. He found himself in a strange predicament. A white woman and her offspring needed him. Danger lurked in the forest. How could he get them to safety? They weren’t his charge, but he knew he couldn’t wander away and vanish—even though it meant his own life would be in danger if he stayed. He had no doubt there was a high price on his head. He would draw interest from anyone chancing upon the secluded cabin.
Ella’s voice made him turn, and he watched her bend and kiss the little girl’s cheek. “Goin’ to feed the animals.” The hem of her threadbare skirt caught on the cabin’s splintery steps.
Luke’s attention was fixed on her as she walked to the barn. The Florida sun highlighted her honey-blond hair, which was braided and coiled at the back of her head. Loose tendrils hung near the sides of her face. The slope of her shoulders told of the sorrow she carried in her heart. She had to know their situation was dire, circumstances stacked against them. The Florida wilderness was no place for a lone woman and two children.
He longed to question her, find out what had forced her into such an awful predicament, but he hadn’t the courage. Luke knew she clung to the thought her dead husband’s younger brother would find them.
The pale blue ribbons marked her trail.
But the fragments waving from the sides of the dim wagon road might also lead soldiers to the cabin. They wouldn’t stop at taking him captive, and they’d jump at the chance to gain a lone white woman for their own pleasures. Thoughts of backtracking on Ella’s trail and removing the bits of blue material lingered on in hi
s mind. If he could easily follow them, so could others.
Chapter 18
Friday, October 30, 1847
The morning light, shifting through the thin gaps riddling the log wall, indicated a cloudy, cold day. Wet weather had moved through before dawn.
Ella Dessa wanted to linger under the covers, but she eased her legs over the edge of the bed frame and stood. Her long nightshift slipped down around her exposed legs, and she shivered when her feet encountered wet floorboards. Raindrops had found their way through the roof.
The scent of smoke tainted the air.
She eased open the window’s shutter. A crackling fire burned near the closest clump of live oaks and heavy smoke drifted low to the ground. Luke stood beside the fire, stretching and yawning. His skin seemed darker in the low light, and it caused her to wonder about the cruel marks on his wide back.
How can anyone beat another human?
But she knew it was possible—her stepfather had beaten Ella’s own mama. Her slender mama stayed in pain, hidden away from other settlers in the surrounding Georgia Mountains.
She donned a clean dress and her old boots and wrapped a heavy, double-wool shawl about her head and shoulders.
The children still slept in the loft.
After grabbing a pail from the porch, she walked through tall, wet grass to the barn. She wanted to see what extra milk Milly might have for the children, but she pondered their situation as she walked.
What had happened to Samuel? Had he searched for them?
Unless she persuaded Luke to stay, she didn’t see how they’d survive. But she couldn’t expect a stranger to linger forever, especially not a slave. And Luke couldn’t take the chance of being caught by leading them to safety.
“I’ve one gun an’ very few provisions. It’s fall—nearin’ winter. I hav’ta find an army fort or try to go north,” she muttered. “But how? It’s near winter up there.”
What was that?
Ella paused with one hand on the old rail fence and frowned. A distant shout carried in the crisp air.
She whirled toward the piney woods.
A covered wagon rolled between clumps of palmettos, its top swaying. A stocky man stood on the platform and waved.
“Hello! Hello, the house! Good mornin’!”
The sight of a woman on the approaching wagon kept Ella from fleeing. She set her pail down and waved.
Praise the Lord, another family!
The stout, middle-aged man standing in front of the narrow wagon seat, brought the pair of black oxen to a halt. “You ain’t the Culloms,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his apparent disappointment. Three red-headed children stuck their heads out of the wagon’s front opening.
“No, I’m … Ella Dessa McKnapp, out of Georgia.”
“Well, I’ll be …” He scratched a red spot on his ear and gawked at her.
He didn’t have a beard, but an enormous, black mustache drooped down the sides of his open mouth. His cotton shirt appeared worse for wear—showing multiple rips and stains.
Ella sensed a movement at her side and knew, without looking down, her children had awaken and followed her.
“My girl is Hannah. An’ this is Amos.” Her right hand ruffled her son’s springy, sunshine curls.
The woman in the wagon had coppery red hair bushed around her chubby face, even though the bulk of it was captured in a lopsided bun. The folds of a worn shawl hid her neck and hefty shoulders.
“I’m Mattie. My man is Zach. We’re the Whitakers … hailin’ right from nowhere, now.” She giggled and dipped her head, which caused her double chin to pooch out over the knot in the shawl. Her bulk seemed to overflow the wagon’s narrow seat. “I’m sure happy—”
“We saw the smoke risin’ an’ figgered the Culloms came back,” the man said, interrupting her.
Mattie continued the introductions. “This here’s Becky, Enoch, an’ Claire.” She pointed over her shoulder at a trio peering through the opening in the canvas. “Enoch wishes he had him a brother, but we ain’t doin’ such stuff no more!” She gave her husband an impish grin showing her tiny straight teeth. “Caint hardly feeds these three.”
Zach surveyed the cabin site and muttered, “I didn’t think it’d be them.” He sighed and stared at Ella. “Bear kilt their youngest boy. You betta watch those little tykes.” His deep brown eyes softened as he looked at Amos and Hannah.
“Oh, Zach, you shouldn’t scare ’em none!” Mattie waved her chubby hands in the air. “Shush! It were a more than a year ago! Animals move on. Hain’t the cool weather been nice?”
“Yes. It has,” Ella agreed.
Hannah tugged on her skirt. “Mama, where’s the bear?”
She squeezed Hannah’s shoulder and said, “That’s so awful about the child.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes!” Mattie shook her head. “Very sad.”
“Yep.” Zach removed his broad-brimmed hat and beat it on his knee. “Rain turned my hat to mud.” He was bald under the hat, causing his mustache to stand out all the more. “Don’t take but one bear bite.”
“We’re movin’ on,” Mattie said.
“Movin’ on?” Ella repeated, her shaken thoughts still locked on the horror of a bear attack.
“Yeah. Headin’ north. Told to get off our piece.” Zach shoved his dirty hat back on and hunched his hefty shoulders.
“Your piece?” Ella said.
“Land. He means we’ve been shoved off the land we’re tryin’ to clear.” Mattie’s face flushed. “South of here. A passel of upstart scouts rode in … told us to git! We weren’t inclined to—at first. But worse’n that … is the news we gathered from them. They say Sem’noles kilt three people southwest of here. You need to keep a watch out, if’n you’re plantin’ your feet here. Those men’ll soon root you out.”
Zach turned to Mattie. “Leave her be, Matt. Her man’ll sense when to pull out.” He grinned at Ella. “I know my wife would love to stay an’ talk—an’ talk, but the day’s wastin’. This’ll be our second day of travelin’, ’cause we go slow. I want to get along the trail ’fore that rain hits.” He waved at the gray horizon. “Unusual mornin’ weather. More rain comin’.”
A pang of loneliness laced fingers around Ella’s heart. She yearned to talk to the woman. “It’d be pleasant to talk some, but I know you must go.” She had to hide the fact her husband was dead and there was a runaway slave with them!
Mattie tried to wiggle herself into a more comfortable position on the narrow wagon bench. “Tell your man we’re sorry we didn’t git to meet him.”
“Papa’s gone,” Amos said while staring up at the stout woman.
“Huntin’, eh?” She leaned sideways and stared down at him. “You should dress warmer. Child, just knee pants ain’t ’nough with the weather change. The next wave of rain’ll freeze ya.”
Ella saw Amos was indeed shirtless. She tightened her grip on Hannah’s shoulder—willing her not to add anything to what Amos had said. “My son’s used to cooler weather.” Oh, please, don’t mention Luke.
Amos twisted sideways and frowned up at her. “Bad snake bite Papa.”
Concern showed on both Zach’s and Mattie’s faces.
“Oh, my! You need help?” Mattie said. “We could … Zach? Could we help ’em git loaded an’ take ’em with us? Can your man travel?”
“We’re fine. Don’t worry.” Ella replied.
“But you need help,” Mattie said. “Your husband …?”
Hannah tugged on her skirt. “Mama?”
“No, no.” She shook her head, more at Hannah, than at the couple in the wagon. “We’re trustin’ in God for … protection. We’ll stay here.”
She couldn’t explain Luke’s presence! He’d be captured if word got out.
“Some survive a bite,” the man muttered. “Knew an ornery old fellar who did—but his leg’s deformed. He showed up at our place.” His bushy black eyebrows and huge mustache formed a matched set and both wiggled when he talked. He ran hi
s tongue along his lips and spat a stream of tobacco to the ground. “Mattie, we need ta go.”
Ella stepped closer. “Please, we heard there’s a fort nearby. How far is it? Which direction?”
“Fort? Hmm, not sure. Along the west side of the river? I do believe there’s the remains of one—north of here. Think it’s deserted.” The man wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Weren’t no settlement. It were military. Gone, now.”
“Thank you.” Her legs went weak. Oh, God, no.
Zach shook a limber rod in the air and ordered the oxen to turn the overloaded, groaning wagon. All the children waved. Mattie leaned sideways and caused the covered wagon to slant in her direction.
She cupped her hands about her mouth. “Nice meetin’ ya! Be watchful! Bears remember food sources.”
Ella waved as Mattie’s rich alto voice broke into a rollicking song. She wanted to cry, feeling as if Mattie and Zach were longtime friends … leaving her life forever.
“Mama?” Hannah’s light-blue eyes reflected sadness. “Why couldn’t they play?”
“They’re on a journey.” She watched the wagon roll out of sight. Mattie’s song about a bushel and a peck faded, no longer heard.
Amos tugged on her hand. “Mama? Play with calf?”
“Yes, let me git him out of the barn. You children should’ve stayed inside. Amos, you need clothes on.” She released the oxen, but tied Milly to a post. The calf dodged the little boy’s outstretched hands. “Amos, don’t try to ride him.”
After fetching a small stool from the barn, she sat by the cow. Sickened with disappointment, she wondered if she should’ve forsaken Luke and jumped at a chance to go with the Whitakers. But the possibility of Samuel still looking for them quelled that idea.
Amos locked his arms around the calf’s neck and tried his best to get one of his little legs over its back. Hannah’s thin shift rode up on her skinny legs as she helped her brother. She pulled on the calf’s neck and forced the wild-eyed animal alongside the spilt-rail fence.
“Hannah, don’t help your brother git in trouble. Amos, that calf’s goin’ to remember you when he grows to be a bull!”
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