So he would leave her in an effort to find his own peace, and hope she still loved him when he returned. If he returned.
Later that afternoon, Jackson loaded the last of his gear onto the raft, then went into the cabin to say good-bye.
“Grace?”
She had her back to him and turned. He could see the tears standing in her eyes.
She whispered fervently, “Don’t do this…”
He felt his heart break. “I’ll come to Chicago as soon as I can.”
He walked over to where she stood and stared down into her watery eyes. He traced a finger across her freckles and wondered if he’d ever see her again. Hastily burying that thought, he pulled her into his arms and rocked her silently. She held him just as tightly.
“I love you so very, very much, Grace.”
“I love you too, Jackson.”
She looked up and whispered, “Come back to me.”
He wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks, then kissed her eyes. “I will, darlin’. Don’t worry.”
In spite of their differences, neither wanted to part in anger. And so the kiss they shared was filled with sweetness, love, and a bittersweet good-bye.
When they parted, he left without a word.
Grace stood in the doorway and watched William pole the raft away from the bank and take Jackson out of her life. She was sad, angry, and most of all, fearful, wondering if she’d ever see him again.
That evening, after dinner, M’dear handed her a folded piece of paper. “He wanted me to give you this after he left.”
Grace unfolded the note and read:
I lov’d thee from the earliest dawn,
When first I saw thy beauty’s ray,
And will, until life’s eve comes on,
And beauty’s blossom fades away;
And when all things go well with thee,
With smiles and tears remember me.
I’ll love thee when thy morn is past,
And wheedling gallantry is o’er,
When youth is lost in ages blast,
And beauty can ascend no more,
And when life’s journey ends with thee,
O, then look back and think of me.
When she finished reading there were tears in her eyes.
After leaving the swamp, Jackson headed his horse south to Austin, and Grace spent the week helping M’dear in her garden, listening to her stories of times gone by and missing Jackson.
Although she tried to convince herself that if she didn’t think about him she wouldn’t worry, it didn’t work. He was the first thing she thought about in the morning when she opened her eyes, and the last thing she thought about at night before going to sleep. Questions of where he might be and if he were safe were with her constantly.
It was now the end of September and it had been almost a month now since Iva had brought Grace and Jackson to M’dear’s Sanctuary. Grace continued to enjoy the solitude and peace, but knew the weather would be changing soon and if she didn’t head for home shortly, she might be forced to stay the winter. With that in mind, Grace and M’dear prepared for her departure.
Grace had decided to leave in two days’ time, but problems arose that afternoon when the faint call of the drum echoed on the air. Six beats sounded from a long way off. Six more beats followed and then two.
As the pattern repeated itself, William quickly went to the raft and Grace looked to M’dear, who said, “The two sixes announces a friend, the two alone means there’s trouble.”
Grace remembered Iva pounding out the same drum beat when Jackson was first brought here. She wondered whom it might be this time and how M’dear could help?
M’dear said, “William will fetch them. No sense in worrying until he returns.”
William returned less than an hour later with Iva. When Grace saw the awful bruises on the woman’s face, she quickly called for M’dear, then ran to meet Iva as she came up the bank.
“What happened?”
“Trent,” she managed to spit angrily. Her lips were so swollen they were twice their normal size. One eye was black and blue and swollen shut. She’d taken a tremendous beating, it appeared.
“Where’s Jack?”
“Gone.”
Iva stopped. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“I’ve no idea,” Grace admitted.
Iva scanned Grace’s face, then she shook her head. “Let’s hope he’s somewhere safe.”
After M’dear saw to Iva’s injuries as best she could, Iva told her story. “Trent and his night riders are terrorizing the county looking for you and Jack,” she said, turning her battered face toward Grace. “Paid Riley a visit night before last and me last night, and as you can see, he didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know where you two were.”
Grace felt awful. “Iva, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about me. It’ll take more than a bunch of cowards in sheets to put me in the ground. And if they do, I’ll be going to Glory anyway, so to hell with them.”
Grace smiled.
Iva turned to M’dear. “He’s turned over every rock and privy in the county; burning houses, questioning folks. Common sense says he’ll look here next. This is all that’s left.”
M’dear looked to William. “We’ll be fine. If Lane Trent brings his hate to my front door, the next door he enters will be Satan’s.”
It was agreed that in order to circumvent the problems that might arise should Grace return to Marshall, William would raft Grace into Louisiana and she’d get a train there. Iva said there were rumors that Trent had men posted at the Marshall train station with hopes of catching Jackson and Grace should they try and leave town.
Iva then asked, “So where did Jack go?”
Grace shrugged, and the uncertainty made her irritation with him surface again. “Other than that he was going to try and talk to May belle Champion about her brother, that’s all I know.”
“I don’t think he realizes how much things have changed since he’s been gone. Trent will kill him.”
“I don’t think he’s thinking at all.”
Iva nodded. “Well, we’ll just pray he stays out of Trent’s way.”
“I don’t think he has the sense to do that either.”
Iva spent the night, and the next morning she and Grace shared a parting embrace.
“You take care of yourself now, Grace,” Iva whispered fiercely. “And if I see that stubborn husband of yours, I’ll crack him over the head, put him in a crate, and ship him to you.”
Grace smiled. “You do that, and take care of yourself.”
“I will. Davi and I are going to visit my cousin in California for a while until this blows over.”
They parted and Grace said, “Well, you’re both welcome to come to Chicago with me.”
“Oh, no,” Iva chuckled. “I hear it’s so cold up there even the birds wear coats.”
Grace grinned and then became serious. “I can never repay you for all your help.”
“You just get yourself and those babies home safe. That’ll be payment enough.”
Iva shared a farewell hug with M’dear, then stepped onto the raft where William waited to take her back to her buckboard.
That night, as Grace drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were of Jackson and home.
Grace awakened to a nightmare. Dogs were barking, men were yelling, and the horns of hell were blowing shrilly. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. Groggy with sleep, she stumbled to her door to see M’dear’s house in flames, and mounted, white-sheeted specters out front, riding back and forth, shooting pistols and blowing horns. With her heart in her throat, her first instinct was to run to the house, but upon hearing footsteps entering her cabin by the back door, she turned, eyes wide with fear.
It was William. “Come!”
He grabbed Grace by the hand. His big hand felt strong as she ran with him into a nearby stand of trees.
He linked his hands together and held them low, and she put her foot in them. He propelled her up until she could grab onto a sturdy branch. Once she had a secure grip she began to climb.
“Stay until I come back for you.”
Her terror overrode her long held fear of heights and she climbed as high as she could. Once she found a sturdy perch, she hugged the trunk and looked down on the chaos below.
The four riders were now circling her small cabin. One tossed in a lit torch. It did not take long for the dry logs to begin to burn in earnest, and soon the flames were growing and spreading. The dogs were baying incessantly, the sound mixing with the eerie calls of the horns and loud gunshots. Grace prayed William had taken M’dear to safety and prayed also that they’d survive this night.
All of a sudden, a male scream pierced the air, quieting the sounds of the ghoulish cavorting, and one of the men slowly tumbled from his horse to the ground. Before his companions could react, another man gave a tortured gasp and crumpled lifelessly across the back of his mount, his torch slipping slowly from his hand.
An unearthly silence fell over the scene then. Even the dogs had ceased their awful baying. As the two re-maining riders turned their mounts this way and that in an effort to determine the origin of the invisible attacks, Grace could sense their fear. She scanned the night, wondering if William were somehow responsible, but saw nothing.
One of the men tore off his sheet and looked around. Although the moonlight offered only a faint illumination, coupled with the strong light from the blazing cabin, the face of Lane Trent could be plainly seen. As soon as he revealed himself, the man by his side let out an anguished cry, clutched his face, and fell to the ground, leaving the now visibly agitated Trent the only night rider still alive.
The dogs seemed as affected as Trent. Whimpering fearfully, they ran off into the darkness.
Now, all alone, Trent raised his pistol and fired into the darkness as if attempting to scare off the unseen assassin, but his bullets were wasted. Nothing happened. Nothing moved.
To Grace it seemed as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for whatever might happen next.
It came swiftly. Grace heard Trent’s loud cry of pain and saw him clutch his shoulder. He tried to turn the horse, but froze as the assailant struck again. In the resulting silence he keeled over and fell to the ground.
Grace noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks for the first time and dashed them away. Her fear and dread had abated somewhat, but she still didn’t know if M’dear had survived the attack.
Grace heard William call out, “Come down, Grace. It’s safe now.”
Grace made her way back down through the branches. William stood at the base and helped her to the ground. Only then did she see the quiver across the big man’s chest and begin to understand. Trent and his men had been dispatched by arrows. No wonder they’d been unable to retaliate. William was an excellent marksman.
“How’s M’dear?”
“Still with us, but not for long. Come.”
Not wanting to accept what he meant, Grace followed him back into the night. His steps slowed at a spot hidden in the forest behind the bower. M’dear lay on a pallet bathed by the now rising moonlight. Her long white braids hung down across her shoulders. Her eyes were closed and her fragile frame so still, Grace feared she might be dead.
Grace looked up at William. He replied by nodding sadly.
Grace knelt low. Taking the old woman’s hand tenderly in her own, she whispered, “M’dear?”
The eyes opened tiredly and then she gave Grace a weak smile. “Did William take care of those brigands?”
“Yes, ma’am, he did.”
“All of them?”
“Not a one left.”
“Good,” she whispered, and squeezed Grace’s hand. “Good.”
Grace wanted to help but didn’t know how. “Can I get you something, water—”
“No, child. Time’s running out, that’s all. Too much excitement tonight,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Never did like a whole lot of noise.”
Grace bit her lip as she smiled through a fresh sheen of tears.
M’dear added, “William will get you to Louisiana. Then you get yourself on home, you hear?”
“I hear.”
“Babies don’t like a lot of excitement either.”
Grace nodded.
M’dear was silent for a few moments and then said, “Don’t worry about that man of yours. His heart’s good. He’ll come back to you. Just like Jupiter’s coming back to me.”
M’dear then raised her other hand for William to take. He knelt without a word and raised her hand to his cheek. She smiled up at him with love in her eyes. “I’ll tell Jupiter you send your love, William.”
Tears in his eyes, he nodded. “Take care of yourself, M’dear.”
“I will, son. I will.”
Then she smiled and said softly, “Ahhh, my Jupiter’s come, just like he promised. Good-bye, William. I love you.”
“I love you too, M’dear.”
Her eyes closed, and a second later she was gone.
They buried her near the bower right after sunrise. When they were done, Grace and William stood together over the freshly turned earth and said their prayers.
There was not much left to salvage after the fires. A few charred pieces of broken china, a couple of heat-bent spoons. M’dear had lived in her cabin for over forty years and one horrible night of hate had reduced it to a pile of smoldering ash.
William had disposed of the bodies of Trent and his men, sometime before dawn. Grace didn’t know what he’d done with them and she didn’t ask. All she wanted was to get home, but even that had become a problem now. She’d lost everything in the fire, too, including her money. She had only her life and the clothes on her back. How was she to get home?
“Are you ready?” William asked.
“Yes, but I have no money.”
“Trent did.”
William pulled out a gold money clip choked with bills. Grace didn’t hesitate. She hoped Trent was spinning in his grave, knowing his money would pay for her journey home. Taking the clip from William’s hand, she stuck it in the pocket of her wrinkled, dusty skirt and when she did, her hand closed over a folded piece of paper. Curious as to what it might be, she pulled the paper out and recognized it immediately. It was Jackson’s poem. So she hadn’t lost everything. Smiling now, she put the treasure back in her pocket and walked down the bank to the raft.
About an hour into the journey, she told William, “You know, I never heard you speak before last night. I thought you were mute.”
“Didn’t have anything to say,” he told her, as he effortlessly guided them through the waters.
“How long have you lived with M’dear?”
“All my life. M’dear was midwife to the woman who birthed me. When she died a few days later, the husband blamed me for her death. Told M’dear if she didn’t take me with her, he’d kill me for sure.”
Grace thought that absolutely horrible. “So, she did?”
“Yes, she and Jupiter raised me as their own. He taught me to fish and hunt, and she taught me to read, and that color doesn’t matter if your heart is good.”
Grace wished Trent and his companions had been taught by M’dear. “What are you going to do when you return?” she asked.
“Probably rebuild the cabin and spend the rest of my days there until it’s time for M’dear and Jupiter to come get me and take me to the other side.”
And he said no more.
Grace caught a northbound train in Louisiana. The conductor made her ride Jim Crow, but she didn’t care. With Trent’s money she’d been able to buy enough food from the vendors outside the station to make sure she didn’t go hungry on the long trip. And as soon as she reached a town large enough, she planned to buy a change of clothes and wire the aunts.
She forced herself not to think about Jackson.
/> Chapter 13
Evidently, Grace’s babies didn’t like riding Jim Crow anymore than she, because as soon as she headed north, the morning sickness caught up with her and she was sick and nauseated the rest of the way. To make matters worse, at an Indiana border stop, a change in conductors resulted in all passengers of color being asked off the train because of one woman’s complaint about Grace and the others riding. The woman’s tender sensibilities couldn’t tolerate them riding anywhere. She wanted them off the train and the conductor concurred.
For two days, Grace and the others waited alongside the track for a train that would let them ride. When one finally did, its conductor refused to draw the color line, and so, for the first time since leaving Louisiana, Grace had a seat. She didn’t care that none of the other passengers wanted to sit beside her. Their disdain made it possible for her to stretch out, and as soon as she did, she fell asleep.
When the exhausted Grace finally stepped off the train in Chicago, the sight of the aunts waiting for her was almost too much for her to bear. She began crying almost immediately. They didn’t seem to care that she was dirty and smelled of mules and cattle. Dahlia and Tulip folded her in their loving arms and Grace’s tears flowed like rain.
The aunts rocked her and Tulip whispered fiercely, “Oh, Grace, when we didn’t hear from you we were so worried.”
“No more than I,” she admitted. She was so glad to be home, she swore she’d never leave Chicago again.
“That’s the last time we let you go gallivanting across the country,” Dahlia said, wiping at her wet eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.
Tulip scanned the other passengers disembarking. “Where’s Jackson?”
Grace bit her lip to keep fresh tears from flowing. “I don’t know,” she said softly.
Both aunts looked surprised.
“It’s a long story. Let’s save the telling for home.”
“Whatever you say, dear.”
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