Joe sneered. His two buddies returned to the parlor roaring with laughter. He wiped his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve and dragged the girl upstairs.
When Sam regained consciousness, he was amazed to still be alive. His shoulder burned as if on fire but the bullet went clear through the fleshy part of his upper arm. Grateful, he didn’t have to dig it out he peeked into the window and saw his wife serve those bastards the meal she had prepared for the birthday feast. He couldn’t help her until he doctored his wound and got himself a weapon. His best chance to retaliate was when the soldiers slept. He was sure they would nap after Effie’s delicious cooking. “Enjoy your last meal,” he grumbled under his breath.
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Daylight yawned into dusk when Sam returned to the house with two large knifes. Two of
the men were passed out in the parlor, making it easy for him. He thrust a knife into a black heart swiftly, and then cut the jugular of the other’s neck. Bile rose in his throat as he went looking for the third one. Sam put the bloodied knife in his belt upon finding Effie unconscious by the foot of the stairs. Slapping her gently, his wife moaned but didn’t open her eyes. Sam ran to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water, spilling the cool liquid on her face. She sputtered, wiping the wetness from her eyes, and then opened them to find him staring at her.
“Oh, Lawd, hav’ mercy on mah po’ soul,” she gasped, shocked.
Sam didn’t understand Effie’s glassy stare and thought the bump on her head left her crazed. Then he realized the last time she saw him he was shot and she believed he was dead. He took her hand and placed it over his heart to feel it beat.
Her eyes bulged. “Oh Sam, yo’ alive. Lawdy, he’p me up. Yep’ yo’ sho’nuff skeered de wits out o’ me.”
Sam showed his wife his bandaged arm, when she stood on wobbly legs. She groaned and said she had one hell of a headache. His wife confessed that her head hurt more than the time she drank too much cooking sherry. She then told him when she heard Daphne scream, something snapped inside giving her strength she never knew existed in her old bones. She rocked the chair frantically back and forth until she fell to the floor with a crash loosening the ropes. She quickly unraveled them from her body and with as much steam as she could muster, ran to Daphne’s aid.
Her hand went from her head to her bosom and Effie gasped, “Oh, mah po’ babe,” she wailed and sucked in her breath. His wife then ascended the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her large body. She huffed and puffed and rested a moment on the landing. Sam followed
quickly. They heard whimpering and he prayed they were not too late. She pulled him to listen at the door; it was quiet, too quiet. He nudged his wife aside and put his hand on the barrier, the door yawned open.
Daphne was so slightly built that all Sam saw was her small limbs spread-eagle, devoured by the big bastard. He went livid and plunged the knife into the back of the unsuspecting soldier. The soldier groaned and collapsed on Daphne.
Sam heard Effie’s screams behind him. He went to her and squeezed her shaking hands
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gently. “Calm yo’self woman. We mus’ he’p dis po’ chil'. C’mon, he’p me,” he ordered, but his own voice quaked.
His mate nodded, her eyes filled with tears. When they pulled the dead soldier off Daphne, she was covered with blood. Wailing, Effie blessed herself and fell to the side of the bed. The girl’s eyes were closed; her face was so pale that she looked dead. Sam felt Daphne’s pulse; it was weak and he patted the child’s face until she opened her eyes. He had seen this look on slaves that were beaten beyond tolerance. Her mind was someplace else, but where? Sam could only imagine. And maybe it was for the best, at least for the moment.
“She’s not daid.” Sam told Effie. He carried the child to another bedroom. Crying bitterly, she went to fetch water and returned to see Daphne lying on her parent’s bed, void eyes staring at the ceiling. She then washed up the little victim as tears streamed down her face. Effie blessed herself and covered the girl with a blanket.
Sam sat on a chair, thinking, this day had been a nightmare and it was the poor child’s birthday.
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FIVE
A crash outside the door awakened Melissa. As she had feared, the lantern had gone out leaving her in pitch darkness leaving her with no way to know how long she had slept. It wasn’t a deep sleep, how could she when fear of the unknown was all around her, suffocating her. Again she pounded on the door feeling pain in her wrists. She didn’t care if she broke all her fingers, she’d pound until someone found her. Then she heard it, the knob rattled.
“Thank God, she whispered as tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, chil’ Ah almost fo’ got ‘bout yo’,” Effie said from the other side of the door. “Y’all gets yo’ self back. Ole Sam is gonna chop de door wit an ax.”
“Why?”
“D-do as Ah s-say, chil’.” she yelled.
Confused, but too upset to query further, Melissa flattened herself against the damp wall. Shortly, splinters flew by her head; the door swung open and she fell weakly onto the kitchen floor. Unaccustomed to the light, her eyes barely saw Effie and Sam reach down to help her up.
“Tank de Lawd yo’re safe.”
Melissa tried to speak but her throat was parched from crying. Her mind raced with many questions.
What were those gunshots and strange men’s voices she had heard? Why was she locked up and left there so long?
She was full of dread. Dazed, the servants help her to a seat when she noticed the broken chair by the stove. She opened her mouth to speak but Sam appeared by her side with a glass of water.
“Drink,” the servant advised, shoving the glass in her hand. She swallowed quickly, dribbling most of the liquid down her quivering chin. Her eyes pleaded with Effie for answers while her stomach knotted in fear.
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“Honey, yo’ mus’ be brave, we all needs yore strength. Yo’ is strong, Ah knows it, ‘n’ so do Sam. Wha’ Ah mus’ tell yo’ ‘bout t’ tear yore heart out.” The cook wiped her eyes with her apron and Melissa saw the blood on Effie’s hands.
“Mama? Papa?”
Effie shook her head, sadly. “When yo’ waz in de pit, de devil an’ his black angels rode in an’ attack yo’ home.” Yore mama and papa are daid.” Taking hold of Melissa’s hand, Effie cried, “Dey waz Blue Bellies.”
Sam, although almost deaf, she saw him wince when she screamed. Broken-hearted, she pulled away from Effie’s grip and ran for the door, but Sam grabbed her and held her fast. Melissa kicked but when her soft shoe made contact with his shins, she only pained herself.
“No chil’. Sam will see if any slaves are aroun’ t’ bury yore parents and those heathens. It sho’ not wise t’ go out thea.”
Weeping, Effie held her to her bosom and proceeded to tell her the rest of the horrible
story and Daphne’s rape. Melissa went limp in the woman’s arms praying that it was all a night-mare but the reality of the horror was all around her. She could actually smell blood seeping from the walls of the house.
“Take me to her,” Melissa croaked, wiping tears on the hem of her dress; her sister needed her. She took a deep breath; she’d be strong for Daphne. Would she ever be the same? She thought not.
Her trembling legs nearly buckled when climbing the long stairs and her head whirled with all she had to digest in such a short time. She should have been with her parents, but it was no time for regrets now. Effie was right, she had to be strong for not only her own sake but for her sister, she reminded herself. Her parents would want this of her.
Mother. Father. Gone? Murdered by damn Union Soldiers!
It still seamed unreal but seeing Daphne in the oversized bed, pale, almost looking dead, again she knew it was all too true. She stared at her sibling’s lifeless form; her sister looked peaceful. Placing a shaking hand on the sheet, the soft heartbeat pulsated against her palm; she picked up the linen to study her sibling’s bruised body. A wave of nausea hit her.<
br />
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you had to witness our parent’s slaughter and be violated.”
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She kissed the pale face and sighed remembering it was Daphne’s birthday. No child should have gone through what she had on that day, any day. Effie had explained that Daphne had lost all recollection. Although, it was a terrible thing to hope for, Melissa prayed that her sister lost her memory before that animal raped her. She sat by the bed a long time worrying about their future. Would they have to leave this place? Something like this could happen again.
The war had come further south than expected. She had seen the wounded return home when she helped the doctor in town, but this happened to her own parents. It would never happen again! She made the decision. She had thought it through. There was no more time for tears.
The next day, she asked Effie for some of her grandson’s clothes. They bound Daphne’s small breasts and before the servant’s horrified eyes, Melissa cut off her sister’s beautiful nutmeg locks. Sam hitched up the wagon, while she took her mother’s jewels and a few possessions and coins her father kept in the desk drawer. She visited her parents freshly covered graves to say her good-byes, promising to take care of Daphne. Despite her tears, she believed her parents were in a better place and was glad they were together. One could have never lived without the other.
Melissa told Effie and Sam that they were free to go with the other slaves, but they refused, saying they were too old to start over. She watched her servants say a tearful good-bye to their son and grandson, who decided to find a new life with his friend’s parents. When they all climbed into the wagon, she saw Effie hold Daphne protectively in her pendulous arms. From now on Daphne would be known as David, a mute boy. Sam snapped the reins and Melissa didn’t look back. But the memories - of her home, childhood, and her parents - were left behind, but they would never be forgotten. Melissa clutched the family Bible to her breast as visions of her sister and brother filled her mind; the innocent days they frolicked in the fertile, green grass. And her Birds-Eye bedroom furniture and the crystal chandelier that captured and held the warmth of the sun. The rocking chair on the front porch, her mother’s garden and... She had to stop, it pained her too much. It was all gone; all but the memories.
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SIX
Weeks later, Melissa and her weary companions made it safely to Missouri. She asked for information about any wagon trains heading west. She was told she’d have to have a Conestoga wagon, good horses or oxen, whichever she preferred. She asked where she could purchase a covered wagon and a team of horses. She was directed to a blacksmith, whom informed her that a young couple had changed their minds and a wagon was already completely supplied with all she needed for the trip. But the travel here had taken almost all her father’s cash.
“I seem to be short on funds,” her eyes misted. It was a hard decision but she had to consider parting with her mother’s things. Biting her lips, trying not to cry her hands trembled as she held out an expensive diamond necklace. “Would you accept this in payment?” Her hand trembled.
The black man asked, “Are yo’ al’right?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“Sorry,” the blacksmith shook his head. “Ah have no use fo’ jewels but teks ‘em t’ Mr. Karasick, de local jeweler. Ah shor’ he’d buy ‘em from yo’. Ah promise not t’ sell de outfit t’ anyone else.”
Melissa was able to sell all her mother’s beautiful jewelry. The money was not half as
much as it was worth but she took Mr. Karasick’s offer. It would have to suffice. After paying for the team and wagon, she had only a small sum left. Feeling unsettled, she prayed it would be enough to get a new start in California.
Caravan wagons stretched out and rolled across the green carpet of grass toward the clear blue horizon. “West ward ho!” shouted the wagon master and the sight made Melissa’s breath catch in her throat. At first her oxen refused to budge making Sam yell at the lazy beasts. She reached over and pulled the reins as Sam swatted them with a stick on their thick rumps. Slowly,
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they moved, and lowed in complaint. Being the last to sign up, Melissa and her party were eating dust all day and she must have swallowed a godly amount of small particles.
She and Sam took turns driving. When she was relieved, she took naps, and then walked miles to get the kinks out of her legs. Days stretched into weeks. Each night she thought she could spit out a pound of dirt that had collected in her mouth and throat. If she weren’t so hot and tired, she might have taken time to enjoy the beautiful mountain ranges in the distance; she might have seen a soft gray jack rabbit scurry into the brush, or paid attention to the birds that freckled the clear blue sky.
Melissa was too caught up in her own grief to enjoy the beauty. Effie told her that the nights were pretty with stars creating a twinkling ceiling overhead. The haunting sound of a coyote howling at the golden moon would be a delight to see if her heart wasn’t heavy with grief. She missed the enjoyment of all the earth’s beauty tending to her sister at night and keeping her party safe and comfortable during the day.
Daphne moved through the days looking as if she were a zombie; it was like taking care of a small child. Her sister had to be fed, washed and led around by the hand. The girl’s vacant eyes sometimes followed sounds but she never responded to anything. A lot of responsibility was on Melissa’s shoulders.
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SEVEN
The day was hot when Melissa picked up he mother’s hand mirror. A tear drop splashed on to her reflection. Her fair skin had turned golden brown; no more peaches and cream complexion for her. Sam said her honey eyes seemed richer in color and her wheat-colored hair became much lighter, like soft silken threads spun by moonbeams. Although Melissa donned a bonnet to cover her hair, she left her head uncovered in the early morning hours. She was used to the freedom of her flowing tresses and treated herself to that luxury before the sun grew too hot. Freckles dotted her up-turned nose and round cheeks. Her father claimed it added an innocent look to her features. In her heart, she knew she was no longer the naive girl she was just as short time ago.
That day, by a lake, Melissa made friends with the woman riding two wagons ahead. They were collecting water to fill wooden barrels that were tied to the side of the wagon. It was for drinking and cooking only, so it was a rare delight when they came upon a stream or a pond to bathe. The men and women would take turns bathing, something Melissa missed everyday. She wanted so to be home in her rose-scented tub and never realized, until now, what a treat a bath could be.
She scooped up her last pail of water when a woman nearby turned and said, “Hi, I’m
Vida Adams.” She extended her warm hand to Melissa. “I see you keep pretty much to yourself. At night, when we all gather around the camp fire to talk or hear Mr. Wilson play his fiddle, I noticed you don’t join us. I don’t like to appear nosy but is there a reason you keep to yourself?”
Melissa nodded and shook the hand offered to her. The middle-aged woman had a strong grip telling her that Vida was of strong character. She squeeze back but wasn’t sure if she liked being asked such personal questions even though Vida looked sincere and truly concerned. Feeling Vida’s callused hand when they shook, she decided she liked the friendly woman.
Vida was slightly plump with a comely face. Her dull brown hair was tied tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck, making her look matronly and her dark eyes sparkled with flakes of
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gold. Besides the callused hand, deep lines around Vida’s mouth and eyes told Melissa that the woman had a hard life. She wondered if Vida noticed her smooth hands. It was the first time she experienced some guilt for having an easy life, until now.
She walked back to the wagons with Vida. Although, Vida did most of the talking, mostly gossip from other women, Melissa was glad she found a friend. The only person she could speak with was Effie, and lately she took to mumbling about being scalped in their sleep by red-
skinned devils. Vida made Melissa feel comfortable in her presence and she decided to confide in her a little.
“The reason I don’t mingle with the others,” Melissa said, laying her pail on the ground and wiping her brow with the back of her hand, “is because I do not care to leave my younger
Si…err, brother alone.”
She avoided Vida’s eyes, feeling ashamed about what happened to Daphne. Looking at
her broken fingernails, wondering if they would ever grow back again, she it her lip. What a thing to worry about she scolded herself.. “He’s mute,” she whispered softly, unconsciously she was still examining her hand. “David isn’t completely alone but he trembles whenever I leave his side. I’ve been his only guardian since my parents died.” She winced at her last remark but decided that she told Vida just enough.
“Oh, what a shame you can’t join the fun.” The nice woman stretched her spine. “My back aches unmercifully lately and every muscle cries for a good rub. I chalk it up to old age,” she admitted. “We work so hard traveling these dusty trails that a little relaxation and fun is good for the soul,” she added.
“I’ll think about it.” Melissa said, and then left.
Vida lifted her pail to fill the keg tied to the wagon when her young son appeared.
“Here, mom, let me do it,” he lightly scolded.
“Now, Seth, you know you and pa must do the hunting for supper. Gathering wood and fetching water is woman’s work.” Again she stretched her back, rubbing at the soreness. “And speaking of your pa, did he catch us supper?”
“Yep, we’ll be having squirrel stew again tonight.”
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Vida rolled her eyes. “Just once I’d like to sink me teeth into something else. Rabbit would be nice for a change. A wild hen, I think I’d even enjoy a snake at this point.”
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