A few days into the new year, Aaron Collins and his band of men came home, only to rush back to Wilmington when word arrived that a United States Revenue Cutter with fifty men and eight guns was on its way to Fort Caswell. The next day, the forts were seized. When Governor Ellis learned of the action, he demanded the immediate evacuation of the forts, condemning the action as being taken without authority of law.
“I reckon Aaron will stay home and mind his own business for a while,” John said, thumping a copy of the Goldsboro Weekly Telegraph that he was reading by firelight. Kitty sat nearby, listening intently. He said, “The Governor got in touch with President Buchanan and told him the whole story, and the President has sent word back through his Secretary of War, Joseph Hilt, that he has no intentions of garrisoning the forts in North Carolina. I reckon Aaron and his blood-thirsty bunch will have to wait a while longer before they have their precious war.”
Lena put her sewing down and sighed dramatically. “John, why do you criticize Aaron and the other men who only want to protect our people? Just because you’re a coward, you don’t have the right to condemn those who have some guts. You just lack courage.”
“Courage?” He threw back his head, laughing loudly. “The real test of courage, woman, is to live—not die. Believe me, it takes more courage for me to live standing up to what I believe in than it would for me to take up arms and fall in behind Aaron Collins as he goes searching for blood.
“Besides,” he went on, “why do you think Aaron refuses to join with the Goldsboro militia group—the one they call ‘The Goldsboro Rifles’ that Dr. Craton organized? Because Aaron is blood-thirsty and ruthless and wants to run things his way, that’s why.”
“He’s always been so charming, how can you say that?”
He snorted. “That was an act. Aaron Collins has always been ruthless.”
“What do you think, Katherine?” Lena looked at Kitty. “After all, he’s the one who forbid his son to court you, thanks to your unforgivable behavior at his party.”
“I’d rather not talk about that.”
“I can see why you wouldn’t,” she sniffed, “You’re as big a disgrace as your father.”
“Now if you want to call someone gutless,” John folded the newspaper, “put the name on Nathan Collins. He’s too weak to stand up to his father and court the girl he professes to love.”
“Poppa, please.” Kitty stood up, not wanting to discuss such things. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”
“Nathan is respecting his father’s wishes,” Lena snapped, “and I can’t say as I blame him, even if I would’ve liked to see Katherine marry up with someone from such a fine family. I can see why Aaron wouldn’t want him courting Katherine after the way she behaved…”
John and Kitty were no longer listening to her. The sound of hurried footsteps across the creaky wooden front porch had made John step to the mantel and reach up to get his musket.
There was a quick pounding on the door. “See who it is,” John ordered Kitty in a whispered voice. “Then step back.” He leveled the musket.
Kitty opened the door to find Jacob standing there with wide, frightened eyes, twisting his old straw hat in trembling fingers. Nodding to her, then to Lena, he looked past them to where John was lowering his gun. “Mastah, you better come…”
Without question, John left the room and returned quickly with his coat. Taking up his gun once again, he started to follow the old man. Kitty asked them where they were going, but her father refused to answer her questions as he followed Jacob off the porch and around the side of the house.
The door closed, and Lena took up her sewing again. “Oh, let them go. Who cares what they do? I stopped caring long ago.”
There had been other nights when Jacob came for John unexpectedly late at night. Sometimes, Kitty suspected from the sounds that awakened her that John slipped out after everyone was supposed to be asleep. But something about this night, the frightened look in Jacob’s eyes, alarmed her.
Kitty walked toward her room. “I think I’ll go to bed. I’m very tired tonight.” She closed the door and in the darkness stripped off her muslin dress and changed quickly into overalls and an old shirt. Then, slipping on a warm jacket, she moved quietly to the window. Would it open without squeaking? She was in luck. It slid open, and the blast of cold January air made her shiver. Stepping over the sill and onto the ground below, she closed the window behind her.
She ran through the inky black night toward the rear of the house. The barn loomed darkly in the distance. If her father were there with Jacob, they had not lit a lantern.
She moved closer, then something caught her eye, off in the distance, toward the woods beyond the barn, where the trees and uncleared foliage ran thickly through a swamp. She had been there but once or twice, due to the danger of quicksand and moccasins. But now she could see a bobbing light disappearing into the denseness. Why did Jacob take John there at this time of night? Her skin was prickling apprehensively as she turned in that direction.
She ran, stumbling several times over mounds of dirt or roots, trying to keep up before the light disappeared altogether. She hated being so sneaky, but with so much turmoil going on in their lives, she felt a driving need to follow her father and find out what was going on. Despite the closeness they had always felt, there had been times when she had the feeling she did not know everything about her father’s life. This proved that her feelings were correct.
She reached the swampland, groping slowly in the darkness that engulfed her. Once her foot slipped into something cold and mushy, and she stifled a scream. Jacob and John’s movement had slowed, as they, too, worked their way through the intricate surroundings.
She heard the sound of voices and slowed apprehensively. She was still too far away to make out what they were saying, but she could hear a woman’s voice, then the soft mewing sound of a baby crying. She had to get closer. A few more steps, very quietly, very slowly.
“…you gave me no warning, Willie,” that was John speaking, sounding upset. “No arrangements have been made…”
“You’ve helped others that ran away with no warnin’… Mistah Wright, you gotta help Jenny and me. Mastah Collins, he going to take me to the block tomorrow and sell me, and I want to be with Jenny and our baby. We’ll never see each other agin. Taint fair…taint right. We going to run away even if you don’t help us…”
“Now hold on.” Her father’s voice again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you, did I? Just give me time to think a minute. If I can get you to Raleigh, there are people there who will take over and get you North, but how much time do we have? Jacob, how long have they been hiding here? Has anyone had time to miss them yet?”
“Nawsuh. Willie, he come to my cabin, and I went and fetched you. They ain’t been gone too long.”
The baby started to cry again. Kitty had quietly moved closer, and in the dim glow of the lantern she could see Jenny, the slave girl whose baby she had delivered, pulling out a brown-skinned breast, pressing her nipple against the baby’s eagerly waiting lips. He began to suck, and the crying stopped.
So it was true, Kitty thought feverishly. The accusations about her father were true. He did help runaway slaves. He was connected with the underground. But didn’t he know how dangerous this was? she thought with gritted teeth and clenched fists. If Aaron and his men ever found out for sure, especially now, with the war hanging over them, men distraught and anxious…
“All right,” John was saying. “I’ll do everything I can. This swamp runs clear to the Neuse River, about ten miles or so, and I keep a flatboat hidden there. Jacob and I will take you there, and then I’ll let Jacob take you on to Raleigh. You’ll have to travel at night and hide out during the day. Jacob knows who to find once you get to Raleigh. You’ll be safe once you get there, if we’re lucky.”
“Oh, bless you, bless you…” Jenny cried. “Willie and me, we love each other…”
“Now there’s no time for thanks,�
�� John said gruffly. “Jacob, go back to your cabin and get a sack of corn dodgers and a water pouch. Jenny’s nursin’ that baby and she’ll need to keep her strength up. It’ll take you two or three nights to make Raleigh.”
Jacob began moving through the brush, passing within only a few feet of where Kitty pressed herself against a tree trunk.
“As soon as he gets back, you can be on your way.”
Kitty wondered what she should do. Her father would be angry because she was spying on him, so she couldn’t step out and let herself be seen. If she tried to go back to the house now, she might be heard. There was nothing to do but wait in the murky darkness for them to leave, then find her way back.
Suddenly, a dog started barking. Killer! John had brought his old hound with him, and Kitty panicked as she realized he had picked up her scent and was alerting them to her presence. But no, she realized with fright, the barking was fierce, angry—certainly not the way the old dog would bark at her.
“Get down,” she heard her father command just as footsteps and horses began crashing through the brush.
Every nerve in her body screamed with terror at the first sight of the torches being suddenly fired up against the black sky. She could see the white-hooded men on foot—on their horses, carrying their torches and clubs and guns, as they formed an inescapable circle around her father and the two slaves.
The Vigilantes! Dear God, no, the terrifying, feared-by-all Vigilantes had found them!
Frozen in terror, Kitty heard a man’s booming voice, “Well, we finally caught you in the act, you traitorous son of a bitch. All this time, we’ve never been able to catch you…”
John fired—and Kitty opened her mouth to scream just as a sweaty palm was mashed over her face. Twisting with her free hands, she fought to see what was happening, her blood flowing so rapidly through her body that she became dizzy. The old gun had misfired. Hooded men were grappling with her father, forcing him to the ground.
Kitty watched in horror, still fighting the hand that held her silent, as the baby was snatched from Jenny’s arms. Willie started fighting but crumpled to the ground as a club came crashing down over his head. Jenny fought to get to her baby, as she, too, was felled by a swift blow from another club.
“Get them on those mules and take them back,” someone was yelling. “Tie the baby on top of them. That troiblemakin’ slave will be sold tomorrow, for sure, and we’ll take the baby away from that woman to teach her a lesson…”
Kitty twisted around, eyes bulging with shock as she realized it was Jacob holding her, tears streaming down his face in the flickering fire from the torches that reached the spot where they hid in the thick bushes. “We can’t help him now,” he whispered. “They’d hurt us, too. We can’t do nothin’ but hide here and pray they don’t see us.”
Killer had tried to defend his master but was struck with a club and lay somewhere still and quiet. There was no sound from John, either, as the men hoisted him atop another mule and began moving through the night, disappearing into the swamps.
Kitty was no match for the old negro’s strength as he held her fiercely against his chest. She had to help her father. They would kill him now, for sure! And what about Jenny’s baby? What would they do with him? They had to go for help! They couldn’t stand by and let this horrible thing happen.
After what seemed an eternity, Kitty was released, and she whirled on Jacob screaming, “How could you, you old fool? How could you stand here and not help him after the kind of a friend he’s been to you and your people? Are you crazy? Don’t you know those murdering cutthroats will kill him? They caught him helping runaway slaves, for God’s sake. You know they’re going to kill him!”
“They’d kill us, too, missy. I’d have gone to help him if I hadn’t seen you hidin’ here after I sensed somebody was around and came back to warn Mistah John. But I had to keep you still. Those men would do somethin’ terrible to a white woman interferin’ in their business. Your daddy would’ve wanted me to keep you out of this. Now I gotta fetch Killer and see if he’s dead, and I gotta get back and find help for your daddy, and you have, too.”
Kitty waited in a frenzy, alternately cursing and sobbing, as Jacob went after Killer. He brought him back in his arms, limp, but still breathing. Then she followed him as he made his way expertly out of the swamp, knowing the way even in the pitch darkness. Once they reached the cleared land, she began running, stumbling, falling, picking herself up again.
She got to the barn and quickly lit the lantern just inside the door, then hurried to a stall and led out her father’s horse. He was faster than her own, and she had to ride quickly. Jacob came in carrying Killer just as she finished saddling the horse and was mounting him.
“You stay here, Jacob,” Kitty said, able to take command of the situation at last. “No need for them to come after you, too.”
“But where you goin’, Miss Kitty?” he looked up at her with frightened, tear-filled eyes.
“I’ll find Doc Musgrave. He’ll help me find others that will help.”
She galloped out of the barn and down the path that led around the house and to the road beyond. The cold January wind sliced into her as her hair whipped in a frenzy about her face, but she was oblivious to anything but the driving need to find help for her father. The Vigilantes were vicious. They were evil, blood-thirsty men who could kill if the notion struck them. Everyone feared their wrath!
The three miles to Doc Musgrave’s small house seemed endless. Kitty thundered the horse into the yard with such a commotion that Doc heard her and was emerging from the front door, lantern in hand, by the time she dismounted.
He stood there, nightshirt flapping around his ankles, eyes growing wider with each word that tumbled from her quivering lips. He ran trembling fingers through thin graying hair, pulled at his pointed mustache and beard as the gravity of the situation soaked into his sleepy state. Old, but alert, he nodded with squinting gray eyes and disappeared inside the house to return a moment later fully clothed, black leather bag in hand.
“They may have taken him to the slave cemetery down by the bend in the creek,” he said, as she allowed him to mount the horse, then pulled her up behind him on the horse’s rump. “We’ve found a few of their victims there.”
But he was turning the horse in the opposite direction, and she tugged at his shoulder and yelled, “You’re going the wrong way. The cemetery is back toward my house…”
“We’ll need help,” he yelled, spurring the horse into a gallop. “In case they’re not through with him, I’m going after David Stoner and his father.”
“But David rides with Aaron Collins,” she cried into the wind. “And a lot of people think Aaron is the leader of the Vigilantes. Poppa has said so.”
“David would have no part in the Vigilantes, you can be sure of that.”
The horse stumbled in the darkness, and for a moment, it looked as though both of them would go spilling onto the road. Regaining his footing, the horse slowed his pace, and Doc let him, fearing to go any faster lest he stumble in a rut and break a leg.
“Whoa…” Doc pulled up on the reins, and just as Kitty was about to ask him why he was stopping, she heard the sound of hoofbeats coming toward them. “Who is it?” Doc shouted into the night.
“Allen Stoner and son David,” the voice came back and Kitty breathed a sigh of relief. They rushed forward, horses pawing and prancing in the road. “We were coming after you, Doc. David just told me he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He knew the Vigilantes were going after John Wright tonight. They set up a trap to catch him helping some runaway slaves.”
“Then it was a trap!” Kitty cried, and the two men saw her on the horse behind Doc for the first time.
“Kitty, I’m so sorry,” David spoke anxiously, moving closer to her. “I couldn’t say anything, no matter how bad I wanted to. The word is that they knew if that slave, Willie, was threatened with being sold, he’d take that girl who had his baby and high-tail i
t for whoever it is around here who helps the runaways get to the underground in Raleigh. Everyone figured it was your daddy.”
“It was,” she said miserably, wishing her father had stayed out of the whole mess. “I saw them come take him away in the swamps. I would’ve killed them with my bare hands if I could, but Jacob stopped me, made us hide. I came for help…”
“Jacob was wise to hold you back,” Allen Stoner said tightly. “Now let’s ride to that cemetery and see if we can put a stop to this madness.”
They turned the horses, running as fast as they dared through the night. They reached the creek, following its edge as they made their way around dark, shapeless blobs of overgrowth, forced to move agonizingly slow.
“We have no light,” Doc said in frustration. “How can we search for him if we can’t see a hand in front of our faces?”
“If we wait till morning, he might be beyond help,” Allen Stoner said quietly.
“If we just had a torch…”
“Shhh! I hear something.”
They reined the horses to a stop. And then they all heard it. A low, moaning sound—a sound filled with pain that wrenched Kitty to the very depths of her soul. She almost knocked Doc from the saddle as she swung her leg over to leap to the ground, falling to her knees as she landed in a pock hole.
“Up there,” someone shouted. “Oh, God, get him down quick!”
The men were running toward the moaning, gasping shroud of black that seemed to hang suspended in the air. There was the sound of a knife sawing into rope—a crumpling body falling into waiting arms—sudden gurgles rushing in fresh air in great gulps.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes, he’s alive. Can’t you hear him struggling to breathe?”
“But he’s barely alive.”
“Doc, do something…”
Kitty had bitten her lower lip until her mouth filled with the saltiness of her own blood. Forcing wooden legs to move forward, she could see their shadowy hulks bending over her father’s body.
“…got to get him back to the house where I can see to tend to him,” Doc was saying. “Easy now…get him on the horse. Somebody get a blanket to wrap him in. The dirty cowards beat him naked.”
Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 Page 9