Esther

by Jim Cox

  When Esther rose, the dark shadows of the shoreline were only a few feet from the barge, and Esther knew she and Joan must hurry off the craft before it hit ground with a jar. Esther looked toward the boss, but the darkness hid him; however, with listening ears, she could hear his deep breathing which gave her a degree of comfort. She had turned and was about to signal to her daughter when she saw Joan tiptoeing toward her holding her shoes. Carefully they eased toward the railing next to the bank and Joan crawled over into the knee-deep cold water nearly taking her breath. As she proceeded to shore, she held her shoes in one hand and kept her dress and undergarments raised above the water with the other. When Joan was well hidden among the trees, Esther followed her daughter’s procedures with her clothing raised and carrying her shoes.

  Both women were smiling from ear-to-ear in a grove of trees over their apparent escape when Esther took on a serious expression and reached for her daughter’s arm. “Let’s listen if the men wake when the barge hits land, Joan.” Apparently, it didn’t hit aground hard enough to wake the men because all was silent.

  The women walked energetically the entire night inside the tree line not far from the river and took only a few rest stops. They were tired and hungry and had no idea what lay ahead, but they were elated over their escape and continued walking at a good pace. Their only goal was to rid themselves of their abductors and find someone to help them back to civilization. Onward they went, walking southward into the unknown along the Tennessee side of the Mississippi River. The clouds had passed, and the stars and moon were shining brightly which illuminated a fallen tree the right height for sitting.

  Words were few as they sat, but Joan broke the silence, “What do you think Pa is up to these days, Ma? Do you think he might be looking for us or do you think he’s still on drinking sprees and doing things he shouldn’t be doin’?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m hopeful he’ll straighten himself out someday, but we can’t count on it at this point. We have to think of our own safety and keep free from those hoodlums who kidnapped us. We’re on our own, Joan—we can’t count on anyone else to help us.”

  “How about Mark? Don’t you think he might be coming for us?” Joan asked.

  “I have no doubts about it, Joan, but we have to remember he’s only a fourteen-year-old boy. We’re up against three savvy river men who have kidnapped young women many times in the past and delivered them into the hands of deplorable men for sale. I don’t want to scare you, Joan, but I don’t want to keep things from you either. You need to know how horrible your life will be if they find us again and ship us to Mexico.”

  The eastern horizon was starting to brighten a bit as the women rose. Joan lagged behind, and as her mother looked back at her daughter in the dim light, Esther saw a young woman with mud streaked clothing, tangled hair, and a dirt-smeared face. But what got Esther’s attention mostly was her daughter’s tear-filled eyes. Apparently, Joan could see the concern in her mother’s eyes, so she asked, “What are we gonna do, Ma? We’re wandering around like a pack of stray dogs not knowing what to do.”

  “Have faith, Joan. We’ll find some way out of this.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  While Joan and Esther were resting on the fallen log, Boss was shaking his two cronies. “Get up, you good-for-nothing drunks,” he shouted out. “You let the women get away.” Both men cracked their eyelids and slowly sat up. Their heads felt terrible—like someone was pounding on them with wooden mallets, and their stomachs were churning, ready to throw-up, but they knew better than to cross the boss, so they slowly staggered to their feet.

  “We’re sorry, Boss,” one of the men said in an apologetic tone. “I guess the party got out of hand and we had a little too much to drink.”

  “Don’t give me any of your useless excuses; I ain’t interested in ʼem,” Boss shouted back. “Because of your stupidity, we’ve gotta start chasing the women—no telling where they got off too.” The drunks didn’t react fast enough to suit Boss, so he barked out orders leaving no doubt as to his intention, “We ain’t got all day. Get yourself in gear and let’s get goin’.”

  “Ain’t we gonna cook some breakfast, Boss?”

  “We ain’t got time for that.” He responded.

  “Can’t we at least go ashore and fix a cup of coffee? My head is hurting something terrible,” one of the men said as he staggered to the barge’s railing to steady himself.

  “I ain’t letting those women get away—there’s too much money at stake.” The two helpers looked at each other in disgust, knowing they had no recourse but to do what the boss said, so they started to climb overboard in pursuit of the escapees.

  “Get back in here,” Boss shouted. “We ain’t chasing ʼem on foot; they have too much of a head start and can walk as fast as us—we’d never catch ʼem. We’re taking the barge. It’ll travel a lot faster and should get ahead of ʼem in two to three days. If they ain’t caught by that time we might as well give it up as a lost cause—Memphis ain’t more than a couple days away, and if they get there, they’ll find plenty of protection.” Boss turned and was heading to the rear of the barge when he called back, “One of you men grab a pole and push us off into the current; and be quick about it—we ain’t got time to waste.”

  Two days later the kidnappers pulled their barge to shore and headed inland through the trees in pursuit of their escapees. After they’d walked fifty yards or so, Boss posted one of the men beside a large oak tree and then continued on with the other crony before placing him a good distance apart. Boss went on quite a ways before taking his position. He had been observant for the women’s tracks as he walked through the woods but had seen none; only animal trails which were mostly made by deer and none stamped with boots. This gave him a degree of assurance that the women had not gotten this far. As he stood between two large oaks, his mind reviewed his placement and effectiveness of where he had stationed his men. That’ll give us more than a three-hundred-yard surveillance along the river, he thought, the women ain’t likely to get past without us seeing ʼem. The day lingered.

  Esther and Joan were exhausted after walking alongside the river bank for two days. They had only slept for a few hours, cuddled together behind a large fallen tree for warmth. They were hungry and chilled to the bone, and as they ambled through the woods with eyes toward the ground, they were unaware of what was going on around them.

  It was mid-afternoon when Boss’s catnap was interrupted by a distant echo of rustling leaves coming between him and the river; it was faint and different from the sounds he’d heard earlier which had turned out to be deer, so he looked extra carefully with keen eyes but saw nothing. The rustling sound continued. Boss was about to ease toward the sound when one of his men shouted out, “Here they are, Boss; they walked right up on me.” Within minutes the women’s hands were bound with leather straps and each one tethered to the arm of a kidnapper.

  »»•««

  “We’ll be docking in Memphis within the hour, where we’ll spend the night. At least the steamer always made an overnight stop there when I’ve traveled on her,” Doyle said as he stood with Mark on the second deck against the east railing looking into the Tennessee shoreline.

  Mark was about to turn with a question when some distance ahead he spotted a barge alongside the shore tied to a tree. With squinted eyes, he looked closer and then asked rather enthusiastically, “There’s a barge ahead, Mr. Doyle. Do you suppose it might be the kidnappers?”

  Doyle quickly eyed the craft and then turning to Mark said, “It could be Mark—we need to have a look—follow me.” They hurried down to the main deck where Doyle gathered and talked with several deckhands. They all seemed to be in agreement with whatever he said and within minutes were lowering a lifeboat with Mark and Doyle in it. “If we’re not at the Memphis dock within the hour, meet us at the barge,” were Doyle’s last words to the deckhands. They waved back with nods.

  By the time the lifeboat was in the water, the s
teamer was well past the barge. Doyle rowed back upstream to a suitable place nearby but out of direct sight of the barge and pulled the lifeboat ashore. Very carefully they made their way back to the abandoned craft, and when they determined no one was around, they climbed aboard. “Look here, Mark,” Doyle said excitedly after examining several cigarette butts lying on the floor. “They’re made out of the same paper and twisted like those we found in the woods where your ma and sister were abducted.” Mark nodded with a wide grin.

  Not wanting to alert the abductors, Doyle and Mark eased back to the lifeboat and waited for the thugs to show. They’d been at the boat for over an hour when they heard a man’s voice call out from the woods. “Here they are, Boss. They walked right up to me.” Doyle grinned, gave Mark a nod, and then looked down the river for his help. They were coming.

  Just as Esther and Joan had walked directly into the hands of the Kidnappers, so did the kidnappers walk into the hands of Doyle and the riverboat men as they were headed back to where they’d left their barge. When Esther and Joan saw Mark, Mr. Doyle, and several other strange men, their eyes filled with tears of joy. When the leather straps were severed from their wrist, Joan went to her brother who cradled her on his shoulder as she cried, and Doyle went to Esther. She was a little reluctant to be consoled by Doyle, but when he spread his arms, she fell into them with heavy sobs. After a long minute, Doyle pulled Esther away and said, “Let’s get you and Joan to a hotel where you can eat and bathe.” Esther smiled and gave a nod.

  »»•««

  As twilight gave way to darkness, a cold-front of black rumbling clouds from the northeast started filling the Memphis sky, bringing with it a spitting of rain slowly freezing on everything it fell upon. Trees, telegraph wires, buildings, and the surface of the steamboat. However, inside the Memphis Riverside Hotel where Doyle and the Taylor clan had registered, things were comfortable. It was one of Memphis’s better hotels with luxurious rooms, bathing facilities, and a superb dining room.

  While Joan bathed, Esther unpacked their sack of clothing that Mark had brought along, pressed a dress for Joan and herself, and then took a long hot bath. After the women had finished dressing, they headed downstairs to meet Mark and Doyle for dinner.

  Esther gazed at the women milling about as she stood at the top of the stairway; they were beautifully dressed in long flowing gowns, hair piled high, and jewelry sparkling. Looking down at her plain homemade dress, Esther was embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry we’re not dressed better, Mr. Doyle,” Esther said to Doyle at the foot of the stairway, “but these are our best dresses; we can’t afford clothing like these other women are wearing.” As she continued to take in her surroundings and compare herself to the other women, Esther felt out of place. Turning to Doyle, she said, “If you want, we can go to a less formal place to eat.”

  “We’ll be eating here, Mrs. Taylor. You and Joan look lovely,” Doyle reassured her. Any looks coming your way will be for your beauty and not about your dresses…especially any looks from men.”

  Esther smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Doyle. I must say your compliments are enjoyed but perhaps a little overstated.” He only smiled.

  The dinner was delicious. Joan and Mark had fried chicken with all of the trimmings and Esther and Doyle had pot roast. After the main course, peach cobbler was served with a refill of steaming coffee. When the dirty dishes had been removed, and coffee was being drunk, several acquaintances of Doyle’s came to the table and spoke for a minute or two about days-gone-by. Some brought laughter—some brought sadness. Three of the men referred to him as Captain.

  Mark saw Sally, the girl he’d introduced himself to on the riverboat, at a table across the room, so while the adults were in conversation, he and Joan excused themselves and started toward her, leaving their mother and Doyle to themselves.

  Both Esther and Doyle felt a little awkward being left alone and words were difficult in coming, but after a long minute, Esther said, “I’d like to thank you again, Mr. Doyle, for getting us away from those thugs. It never entered my mind you’d chase after us.”

  “I was glad to do it. I knew your son needed help and besides, men like those hooligans have to be rounded up and put away.”

  “What will happen to ʼem, Mr. Doyle? What will the authorities do?”

  Doyle looked at Esther with penetrating eyes and then answered with a forceful tone, “All three were hung this evening before dark.”

  Esther stared at Doyle in total disbelief. “Why in the world did they hang ʼem? They didn’t deserve to be killed. Perhaps a prison term or some other harsh treatment but not killed—Joan and I weren’t even hurt,” Esther said in a scolding tone.”

  “It’s the law of the land in this part of the country, Esther. If a woman is mistreated or handled badly under any circumstances or for any reason whatsoever, the perpetrator will be chased down and hung without trial before nightfall.” Esther nodded with tight lips.

  After the waiter had left from filling their cups, Doyle said. “May I make a suggestion, Mrs. Taylor?” She nodded with questioning eyes. “I’d like for us to drop the mister and missus status when we’re speaking to one another. We’ve become friends and shouldn’t act so formal. I’d like for you to call me Doyle and hopefully, you’ll allow me to call you Esther.”

  Esther looked at Doyle with questioning eyes as she pondered his request. “I suppose we can drop the mister and missus if it’ll be more comfortable for you, but remember, I’m a married woman, and even though I’m presently separated from my husband, I’m still faithful to my wedding vows.”

  Her words embarrassed Doyle. “I’m sorry, Esther. I didn’t mean to suggest there’d be a romantic connection between us if we used our first names.” She offered a slight smile.

  The topic was awkward for Esther, so she quickly changed the subject. “Why did those men call you Captain, Mr. Doyle…I mean Doyle?” Esther asked through a wide grin. “Were you a captain?”

  Doyle took on a depressed expression. “Years back, I was sometimes called Captain.”

  Esther saw the sadness in Doyle’s face and said, “The subject seems to have brought on sad memories, Doyle. Is it something you’d like to talk about? Sometimes talking helps.”

  Doyle was hesitant to talk about his past but as the minutes slipped by more and more of his life’s story surfaced. At his parent’s insistence, he had attended school for eight years, received good marks, and finished school with a likelihood of having a bright future. Not many children went to school in those days including his brother Charles for a number of reasons.

  In 1836 at the age of sixteen, Doyle left his Maryland home and headed west through the land’s waterways for a life full of adventure. He had visions of seeing snow-capped mountains towering nearly three miles high, of observing buffalo herds in the thousands, of digging for gold and perhaps becoming wealthy from his findings. He even considered traveling to San Francisco where he’d become an ocean-going sailor seeing the world. But his dreams were set aside when he came to the mighty Mississippi River. It nearly took his breath as he looked upon its size and grandeur. And when a steamboat pulled up to the Cairo docks, only yards away from where he stood, he was overwhelmed. Its size, its beauty, and its accommodation for travelers were unbelievable. Doyle changed his plans in favor of exploring the mighty river.

  A steamer company hired Doyle as a cabin boy when he was sixteen because he could read and write. He worked there for a year making round-trips from St. Louis to New Orleans. During the year, he was assigned jobs in all areas of the craft, becoming acquainted with the crew and attaining a knowledge of the boat’s workings. Doyle absorbed the details of the boat’s operation like a sponge, which awarded him with promotion after promotion. After five years, at the age of twenty-one, he became second in command of one of the most prestigious steamers in the fleet.

  During this time of advancements, he met a young lady by the name of Matilda who lived in Cairo. After courting for a few mon
ths, they were married and set up residence in Cairo, overlooking the river.

  Two years later Doyle was made Captain and received a handsome increase in his salary. He was recognized as an up-and-comer with a possibility of becoming the commander of the company’s entire fleet; and on top of this accomplishment, Matilda became pregnant. Life was great for the young entrepreneur.

  However, a few months later, Doyle was met by three close friends when he returned home from a steamboat trip and knew something was wrong when he saw their expressions. His wife had died of Malaria and had been buried several days prior.

  When Doyle finished telling his story to Esther, he continued by saying, “After my loss, I became despondent with life, quit my job, and loafed around for months. My brother, Charles, finally convinced me to get on with life, so I joined him, and we started building barges to provide travel service to folks heading west—been at it ever since.

  Esther reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Doyle, and I’m sorry for the turn of events in your life. The loss of your employment and especially the loss of your wife and unborn child.”

  Doyle was about to make a comment when a man approached their table. “Captain Doyle, sir. I was told to tell you that we’ll be staying in Memphis until the freezing rain stops and the ice melts. The captain says it’s too dangerous to travel under these conditions.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’ll have to show me the money first,” the bartender said to John, “I ain’t giving you no more drinks on credit.”

  “Can’t you give me one more?” John pleaded, “I’ll be sure and pay ʼya for it in a couple days.” The bartender shook his head and turned to customers with empty glasses, leaving John bellied-up to the bar with his left foot on its rail. His head was down, and his red swollen eyes were on glasses filled with the brown liquid only inches away. His hands were shaking, and his gut felt like it was going to explode—he had to have a drink.