Flight for Life

by Stephy Smith

  Lola walked across the room, picked up her kettle, and followed him out the door. A few moments later, she returned with some water, which she put on to boil, and made the three of them some tea. She brought cups and saucers from the cabinet and filled them. Once again, they began to talk.

  “When I was younger, I used to play with the children nearby and the ones on our plantation.” Zaidee lowered her head in guilt. “We didn’t treat them so nice. They were punished for things they didn’t do. Sometimes Papa’s overseer beat the kids for talking to us. I would hide in my room and cry. I could hear them screaming from the pain of the lash.”

  Tears stung Zaidee’s eyes when she spoke. “I begged Mama and Papa to make the overseer stop hitting the slaves. Mama and Papa didn’t like it either, but that was the way things were done.”

  Snapping back, Zaidee tried to smile. “Some people are so cruel.”

  “What shall we do now?” Clara glanced at Lola as she nodded.

  “Would you like to see the fields, Miss Flora?” Lola asked.

  “Please call me Flora, and yes, I would love to see the fields.”

  They walked to the edge of the nearest field. A few of the hands waved and went back to work hoeing weeds. A hand-drawn cart with a barrel of water and dipper made its way to the edge. The workers left for their drink of water, and to rest a minute and discuss what needed to be done next. She watched them as they went back to work without the blowing of whistles or an overseer standing over them with a whip in hand. Zaidee scanned the vastness with a smile on her face.

  “What would happen if we just raced through the fields, letting the wind blow our hair?” Zaidee challenged Lola and Clara.

  “We never tried that.”

  Zaidee was removing the pins from her waist-length hair. She let it fall where it may, and she smiled. Clara removed the pins from her hair, letting it rest down the center of her back, then the two looked at Lola.

  “Are we going to do this?” Lola sprang forward with Zaidee and Clara following behind. Lola laughed so hard, she wore herself out as the two younger ones ran to the far end of the fields. The field hands stared at the grown women racing through the cotton. When they stopped, the farmhands resumed their work while chuckles rumbled across the field.

  Walking back to the house, Zaidee told Clara and Lola how she and her brother used to torment the overseer and disrupt the slaves by running through the fields, laughing and playing. The overseer would become so infuriated, he would chase the kids with his whip swinging in the wind. “We would slow down so he would hit one of us and Papa would send him away. He was clever and never let that happen. We did everything we could to get him in trouble.” Zaidee let out a chuckle.

  “You were an ornery one, weren’t you?” Clara giggled. “How did you become a teacher?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I wanted to grow up to be just like my mama. She was beautiful and a teacher. I thought if I was a teacher, I would grow to be as beautiful as she was.” Zaidee shook her head. “The things kids think of.”

  “When Cybil met and married Leroy, I knew I was going to marry Stephen. I would’ve kidnapped him at gunpoint if that was what it took. Luckily it didn’t, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Clara’s bright smile touched Zaidee.

  “Leroy is your son-in-law? Did he remarry after Cybil passed?” Zaidee’s brow creased.

  “Yes and no. He stayed on with the family. Says he ain’t interested in no other woman.”

  A strange man appeared near the treeline. Lola pulled Zaidee behind her and called for Isaac, pointing the stranger out. The stranger whirled and vanished into the shadows. Isaac gave a whistle. Field hands came from all directions in pursuit.

  Clara and Lola grabbed Zaidee’s arms and ran for the house. Breathless, Zaidee sat on the settee in Joseph’s study. She covered her face with her hands. “When will it ever end?” She cried until there were no more tears to fall.

  Clara and Lola sat next to her. They held Zaidee. As the sobs ceased, they helped her to her room, where she could pull herself together in private.

  Zaidee caught the curtains blowing in the wind. She glanced up in time to see the barrel of a gun slip through the window. A loud bang echoed in the room. The acrid stench of gunpowder mingled with her burning flesh. Darkness closed all around her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Joseph met up with Stephen when he returned from the Solomon. They were discussing a plan of how to catch the stranger lurking around in the woods. The sound of a gun blasted through the air. Springing from their horses, they ran for the house.

  Someone shouted, “It came from upstairs.” Joseph took the steps in twos. He threw open the door. His feet froze in the doorway for a second. Crimson covered the front of Zaidee’s lifeless body, which lay on the bed. His heart pounded his own blood through his veins, and his body shook. His long legs carried him the short distance, and he yelled for the doctor.

  Clara pushed her way through the crowded room, bringing the water basin. She called for more water as she cleansed the wound. Lola brought in the herbs. The two worked feverishly. Stephen ordered everyone out. Joseph took a seat in the rocking chair in one corner of the room. He refused to leave. Stephen patted his brother on the shoulder.

  So many times he’d watched Clara and Lola taking care of the workers as if they were professional doctors. This time it was different. It was Zaidee, and her injury was far worse than the ones the two women usually tended to. His heart skipped a beat. The retreat of his breath dizzied his mind. Never before had he failed to digest the thought of losing someone he cared for like he did at this moment.

  It was critical he regain his composure. His temper refused to remain neutral, as he thought about what he would do to Mr. Lawrence when he got his hands on him. With a stroke of luck, it wouldn’t be long. He glared out the window, scanning the tree line, daring the coward to face off with a man instead of stalking a female.

  When he turned back, Zaidee’s clothes had been replaced by a clean nightgown and Clara and Lola had moved her to the proper place in the bed. The doctor came in with his bag. The wound was bad, ripping the skin from the side of her abdomen. He removed the bullet, applied the herbs Lola had crushed for the poultice, and bandaged the wound.

  Stepping near, the Doc placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “All we can do now is keep an eye on her and see where this will take us.”

  Through Clara’s actions, Joseph knew she was thinking of the day her sister had died. She grabbed a brush from the dressing table. With slender fingers, she gently tugged Zaidee’s hair from under her body and started brushing the long red tresses. Clara’s voice was soft as she told stories from her younger years. Joseph’s heart wrenched as Clara’s attachment to Zaidee became clear. She wasn’t giving up and neither was Zaidee, she kept repeating.

  Joseph moved the chair next to the bed. The man responsible for Joseph’s problems and possibly his one chance of true happiness ran free in the tree line outside. He encased her lifeless hand in his. An undeniable ache pulled at his heart.

  “I don’t know what to do for Joseph or Clara. Lord have mercy, Lola, I’m the oldest, and I should be over there comforting them. Here I stand, helpless,” Stephen said.

  Joseph listened in silence and tried to turn his attention back to Clara’s soothing voice. He didn’t want to listen to Stephen and Lola’s private conversation. But he did anyway. Lola always had good advice and maybe now she would say something to help him also.

  Lola patted the chair next to hers. When Stephen sat down she took hold of his hand. “Sometimes the best thin’ to do is nothin’, ‘cept be there when they need you.”

  “They’re both heartbroken.” Joseph noticed the misery on Stephen’s perplexed face.

  “I don’t know who that woman is lying in that bed. She’s special to Mr. Joseph and Miss Clara. They both let their hearts fall hard for her. I feel the same, now, Mr. Stephen. I ain’t never sees Miss Clara or Mr. Joseph back down from a figh
t like this one. I don’t reckon they’s gonna start now,” Lola said.

  “I’ve never seen Joseph worked up over a woman before. He knows more about the situation than the rest of us, but he’s not talking. He’s in love with her.” Stephen’s pain etched his face.

  Joseph felt his heart sink. Letting the words settle in his mind, he realized they were true.

  “She was raised on a plantation where slaves was whipped. This life is new to her. She’s runnin’ from somethin’, ’cept she ain’t talkin’ either. She wants to, though,” Lola said, letting go of Stephen’s hand.

  “I’ll wait outside the door. You need to let your wife and brother know you’re here for them. A light touch on their arms, just some sort of sign, and they’ll know. Trust me, they’ll know.” Lola’s voice faded as she slipped through the door.

  Joseph listened to Lola’s words. He knew what she’d said to Stephen was true. How could he ever tell Flora his feelings if…? He shook his head clear of the thought.

  Stephen shuffled across the room. He stood with his hand touching Clara’s shoulder.

  Joseph returned to the bed and reached to still Clara’s hand. He took the long red hair and raised it to his face. Closing his eyes, he took in its softness and the sweet scent of lilacs rising from her beautiful tresses. “I’ll be back.” He bent down and kissed Zaidee’s forehead, then left the room.

  He hastened to the barn and saddled his horse. In a flash, he mounted and left the plantation. Coaxing the horse into a lope, he scanned the brush and shadows in the trees as he made his way into town.

  Once he hit town, he slowed to a trot and reined up at the sheriff’s office. He dismounted and jogged in through the open door, stopping before the sheriff’s desk.

  “What brings you to town, Joseph?”

  “A visitor at the plantation was shot by an unknown assailant. I need you to keep an eye out for a stranger hanging around town. Maybe a couple of your boys could come out and check around.”

  “I don’t have the manpower to—“

  “Is it not your job to protect and serve?”

  The sheriff filled him in on some strange goings-on in town. What caught his attention was the man claiming to be looking for a runaway.

  “Was it Randolph Lawrence?” Joseph asked.

  “I haven’t come across a man named Randolph Lawrence hanging around.” The rotund sheriff gazed at Joseph. “I checked at the slave auctions and nobody in town has heard of him. He doesn’t exist here. However, there is a fellow by the name of Harry Colburn hanging around the area. Claims he’s looking for a runaway. He’s a strange man. Most everyone in town tries to avoid him. Not a likeable creature, shunned by most.”

  “That would be him.” Joseph said. “Where’s he at now?”

  “I don’t know. He rented a wagon earlier today. He said something about looking at some plantations that could be hiding his runaway. He set out in the opposite direction from your place. I’ll get a posse to help you, Joseph. We don’t need trouble in our area.”

  “I’ll meet the posse in thirty minutes. I want to check some hotels.” Joseph tipped his hat to the sheriff.

  Thirty minutes later, a dozen riders had gathered at the sheriff’s office. “Gentlemen, thanks for your help. Y’all know what this man looks like?” the sheriff asked.

  All of them nodded their heads in disgust. They were ready to rid the town of trouble. “Mount up and let’s ride,” Joseph called.

  Splitting up in groups, they rode out in all directions from town.

  Late in the night, the posse returned. No one could find where the offensive stranger had run off to. Joseph returned to Willowbend.

  Tired from the exhaustive search, he asked Leroy to stable his horse. He grabbed a quick bite from the kitchen and made his way to Zaidee’s room. Clara sat on the edge of the bed, still brushing Zaidee’s hair. Joseph stopped her hand once more.

  He didn’t know what he was going to say. But he was sure he had to say something whether she heard him or not. “Has there been any change in her condition? Clara, may I have some time alone with Flora?”

  “No, there’s no difference. You’ll call me if something changes, won’t you?” Clara’s reluctance as she left the room caused Joseph a bit of concern, but she turned once, and then Joseph ushered her out.

  He took Zaidee’s hand in his and relished the softness. “I don’t know who done this to you but I’m going to find him. And when I do…” He stopped, because he knew what he would do and there was no sense in worrying Flora if she could hear him. “I wish you could talk to me. I know you tried to tell me something important, and I failed to listen to you. I don’t like strangers coming into my business and prying around. I’m not good with words, Flora. I promised to protect you and here you lie, in my house on the bed with a bullet hole in your side.”

  Thinking he’d better keep his thoughts to himself, he sat in the rocking chair. His eyes closed, and he faded into a restless sleep, hanging on to Zaidee’s hand. The dream that entered his sleep was more of a memory.

  He had been in Charlotte with Emmett, eating lunch in a tiny hotel restaurant. Their table was near a window, and they both gazed out at the bright sun. It was a beautiful summer day, and people came out to shop in ample supply.

  “Isn’t it funny how people seem to spring to life in the morning on days like today?” Emmett had said.

  Joseph had nodded but kept his eye on a regal red-headed woman walking down the street. Her flawless face glowed in the sun. She held her shoulders straight as she made her way up the steps to the orphanage. Her arms were piled high with packages wrapped in brown paper and tied off with string.

  “One day, Joseph, I am going to introduce you to her.” Emmett had nudged his arm.

  “Best not, Emmett. I’m a confirmed bachelor, and I plan on staying that way.” Joseph glanced back out the window, but the lady had already disappeared through the doors.

  “I think you may be right. My sister is an aggressive female when she sets her mind to sinking her claws into something she wants. And you, my friend, are exactly what she would want.” Emmett gazed at Joseph and then laughed.

  “That is the sister who you have tried to marry off? Are the men in this town so blind they cannot see what a prize she would be to sport on their arm? I’m just a farmer, trying to earn a living and make my way in the world. She needs a wealthy husband to take proper care of her.”

  He tried to wake up and hold on to the precious memory. Instead his dream turned into a gloomy nightmare. He was trying to protect his Zaidee. They were walking in the gardens when a faceless man appeared from behind a tree. The shots rang out, echoing in his ears.

  His woman, his Zaidee, fell to the ground, and he stooped over her. The killer stood over them with his foot pressing on Joseph’s shoulder. Snarling at Joseph as if he were a rabid animal, laughing. Joseph pushed the foot from his shoulder and rose. The faceless killer disappeared.

  Joseph opened his eyes. He glanced around the room and confirmed to himself it was only a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. After a long while of rocking back and forth in the chair, he once again fell to sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The bright morning sun blazed in the window. Zaidee stirred impatiently, waking Joseph.

  “I’m here pretty lady, I’m here.” His heart picked up. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Zaidee’s head thrashed back and forth, her voice low, almost a whisper. “No, no, no.” Perspiration poured from her body. Her face a shade paler, her arms flailed out as if she were fighting off monsters of the past. Joseph rang the bell.

  He choked back a moan. His hands shook with such intensity, he thought they would never stop. It seemed to take forever for anyone to show up and help him. Even though his body felt numb, he could feel Zaidee’s hair dampening from the moisture collecting on her head.

  “Hang in there. Help is on its way. I’m so sorry, Zaidee. I do
n’t know what else to do for you.” His voice quivered.

  Clara ran in the door followed by Doc. “Oh, my goodness.” Clara ran for the fresh water basin and soaked a cloth. Wiping Zaidee’s face, chest, and arms, she called for more water. Doc quickly undressed the wound to find it swollen and angry. He exchanged glances with Clara.

  Dread encased Joseph as he watched them frown. He wanted to lash out, but the ones who deserved it were hiding in a shadow somewhere and he hadn’t found them… yet.

  Lola entered with fresh, cold water.

  “I need some more herbs, Lola, stronger this time. Joseph, stoke the fire and raise the window. Have someone get some clean white linen and bring me some lye soap.” Doc called out orders and set the mansion in motion.

  Word had spread, and the staff walked quietly about their duties with sober faces. The children were taken to Lola’s cabin to play in the treasure chest. Guards still were positioned at their posts.

  Standing aside, Joseph wiped sweat from his forehead. Bitterness consumed him. His anger boiled.

  ****

  Stephen glanced up as footsteps echoed in the hall.

  Isaac approached. “I can’t stand it any longer. I asked James to fill my position so I could check on Lola.”

  “She’s still in the room with Miss Flora,” Stephen said.

  Without saying a word, Isaac waited.

  “I just don’t know what to do for him,” Stephen said. “Have you heard anything from our trackers or the sheriff’s posse?”

  “Haven’t heard a thin’ out of either group. Mr. Joseph, he knows you’re here. They all do. Lola, well, she tries to be strong, but she ain’t. I reckon it’s the same way with Joseph and Miss Clara,” Isaac said.

  “I reckon you’re right. Thanks, Isaac. You’re a good friend. All of you mean so much to me and my family. I just want you to know.” Stephen shook Isaac’s hand and embraced his friend of many years.