An hour later he stood at the side of the bed, tucking the tail of his shirt back into the waistband of his breeches. He had made love to me twice, powerfully, with an almost frantic zest, yet he still seemed worried and preoccupied now. Languorous, replete, filled with a sweet ache that seemed to glow inside, I pulled my bodice back up and smoothed my skirts and watched him step across the room to the mirror. Although his back was to me, I could see his face in the glass. He brushed the sweat-damp hair from his brow and stared at his reflection as though to find an answer to some grave question. The hollows beneath his cheekbones and the shadows about his eyes seemed even more pronounced than they had been earlier. It wasn't like him to linger like this. He usually returned to his own room as soon as he adjusted his clothing.
"Something's bothering you," I said quietly. "There— there's something you want to tell me."
Derek turned and nodded, frighteningly grim. "You'll have to know sooner or later—Randolph will be here early next week."
"Randolph? I don't understand."
"Ben Randolph. He'll be coming to pick up his property."
"You—" I hesitated. A hand seemed to clutch my heart.
"I'm selling Adam," he told me.
"Derek! You can't do that!"
"I have no choice," he said. His voice was cold, hard. "Randolph'll give me two thousand pounds for the buck. He's been after me to sell him for the past two years."
I was standing now, trembling. My knees felt weak, and it seemed the floor was about to drop from under me. I caught hold of the bedpost for support, gripping it tightly.
"Cassie's expecting a baby! You can't separate them! They—they love each other. It's inhuman. It's—"
"God knows I don't want to sell him. I have no choice. I tried to get a loan in Charles Town. I couldn't. I tried to get a mortgage on Shadow Oaks. That fell through, too. I have to have money, Marietta, and I have to have it now, or we'll all starve."
"You can't do it—not Adam. Derek, you simply can't—"
"I told Randolph about Cassie, told him she was expecting, offered to sell her, too, so they wouldn't be separated, but he wasn't interested. It's something I have to do, Marietta."
"You can't! Ben Randolph—Maud told me about him, told me how he mistreats his slaves. The man's a sadist, a—"
"He isn't going to mistreat Adam. He's investing two thousand pounds."
"I won't let you do it!"
"Goddamit!" he exploded. "Do you think I want to sell him? Do you think I haven't gone through all the agonies of hell? It's the toughest decision I've ever had to make in my life, but I had to make it! I could sell Adam, or I could sell you! Randolph'd buy you in a minute, or Jason Barnett, or a dozen other men I could name! I prefer to sell Adam."
"He—he's a human being. He's a husband, and—and soon he'll be a father. There must be something else you can do. It's—"
"It's done," he said crisply.
He turned then and left the room abruptly. I heard him striding briskly down the hall, heard him enter his room and slam the door shut behind him. I stood there clutching the bedpost, tears streaming down my cheeks, so distraught I could hardly think coherently. I cried, and then I wiped my cheeks and turned out the lamp and went to sit in front of the window. I stared out at the night, and I was a part of the darkness, filled with an anguish almost impossible to bear. Hours passed, and dawn came. Reason returned. It would kill Cassie if she lost her man. It would destroy Adam, too. That majestic splendor would vanish and he would be a mere shell. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't.
I thought of Elijah Jones then, and I knew what I had to do.
CHAPTER 14
"Stop crying, Cassie," I said sharply. "That isn't going to help matters at all, and—and it's beginning to irritate me!"
"You don't care," she wailed. "Th' master done put Adam in chains an' locked him up out in th' shed, and dat man's goin' be here tomorrow to take him away."
"I'm fully aware of that, Cassie."
"Why'd he have to put Adam in chains? Why'd he have to lock him up like dat? Adam wuzn't goin' run away. He has pride, Miz Marietta. Chainin' him like dat done— done make him feel like some worthless nigger. He's goin' die o' shame, and I'm goin' die, too. If they take my man away, I'm goin' die sure as faith—"
"Shut up, Cassie."
I felt wretched speaking to the girl like that, but I simply couldn't abide her sniveling any longer. Cassie retreated to the other side of the kitchen and stood wringing her hands, her eyes abrim with tears. I wanted to gather her in my arms and hold her close, comfort her, but I couldn't. This was no time for any kind of emotional indulgence. I had a great deal on my mind, a great deal to do, and it would take all the strength and courage I could muster. I knew I had to remain as cool, as calm as possible.
"It's wicked what he's doin'," Cassie sobbed. "Th' master's always been good 'fore now, always been fair, and now—"
"I'm going out to see Mattie for a few minutes," I interrupted. "The master will be coming in any time now, and he'll expect his dinner to be ready. Set the table, Cassie, and then take the beans off and check on the cornbread. Have you sliced the meat?"
Cassie nodded wretchedly, and I felt like a traitor as I stepped outside and started across the yard toward Mat-tie's cabin. I hadn't revealed my plans to Cassie, nor had I said anything to Adam, afraid they might inadvertently give something away. I had confided in only two people: Mattie and Elijah Jones. Last night, at great risk, I had slipped out of the house after Derek had gone to sleep. I had walked all the way to Elijah's farm, returning just before dawn. Everything was ready. I just prayed that I would have the strength to go through with it.
Derek and I had had a violent argument this morning. I felt it unnecessary to put Adam in chains, but Derek insisted it was a precaution he had to take. Adam was dumbfounded when Derek led him to the shed and placed him in shackles, for neither he nor Cassie had had the least inkling that he was to be sold until then. Cassie had been wailing all day long, and when I had taken his lunch out to him Adam had been silent and sullen, desperately trying to conceal his anguish. As soon as I stepped out of the shed, Derek had taken the key from me and locked the door again. I had swept on into the house, refusing to speak to him.
Caleb was lingering outside Mattie's cabin, as stunned and frightened as all the other slaves. They found it hard to believe that Adam was locked up in the shed, that tomorrow he would be taken away, never to return. A tense atmosphere prevailed. No half-naked children played on the steps. There was no warm, friendly chatter among the women as they went about their work. A great pall had fallen over everything, the silence broken only by the clucking of the chickens and the grunts of the pigs in their pen behind the cabins.
The curtains were drawn inside Mattie's cabin, and it was so dim I could hardly see. Mattie climbed heavily out of her chair and came toward me. She was nervous, her eyes wide with fear as she handed me the tiny packet.
"Is this it?" I asked.
Mattie nodded. "You just puts it in his coffee."
"It—it won't hurt him, will it?"
"Won't do nuthin' to him but make him feel drowsy an' tired. He'll be fast asleep 'fore an hour goes by, an' when he wakes up late tomorrow mornin' he won't even have a headache."
"You're sure?"
"I'se sure, Miz Marietta. I was pickin' herbs an' grindin' 'em up long 'fore you wuz even born. He'll just get sleepy, an' he'll sleep like a lamb all night, wouldn't even wake up if there wuz an earthquake. You just puts it in his coffee like I says. He won't even taste it."
"I hope you're right, Mattie."
"I knows my herbs, gal."
"You haven't—said anything to anyone?"
The fat old slave shook her head. "When he finds them two niggers gone, th' master's goin' be furious, goin' question us all, thinkin' we wuz onto it. None of 'em but me's goin' know a thing, and I can keep my mouth shut. Long as none of 'em see you or hear you tonight, none of 'em's ever goin' know you had a
nything to do with it."
"That's the way I want it," I told her. "He—he mustn't find out."
"You's doin' a mighty risky thing, gal. Mighty brave, too. Reckon I'd be scared clean outta my breeches. Them two's lucky to have someone like you on dere side."
Derek was coming back toward the house as I crossed the yard. He looked weary, his old white shirt clinging across his back damply, his breeches dusty. I hurried on into the house, not deigning to speak, and later on, as I served his dinner, I maintained my silence. He had cleaned up and changed, but he still looked exhausted. I knew this was very difficult for him, knew he hated to part with Adam, and I had to steel myself to keep from sympathizing. I was concerned about Adam and Cassie now. Later on I could be concerned about Derek. My hand shook ever so slightly as I carried the pot of coffee into the dining room. The liquid was thick and hot, steaming as I poured it into his cup. I was relieved to find that I experienced very little guilt.
He was already yawning when I returned with the rice pudding I had made for dessert. His eyelids were heavy, and I could see that he was struggling to stay awake.
"Are you all right?" I inquired. "You seem—unusually tired."
"I must have worked harder than I thought. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'll skip dessert, Marietta. I'll —just go on up to my room, get to bed early."
Half an hour later I crept into his room. He was stretched out across the bed on top of the covers, sound asleep. He had pulled off his boots and shirt, but he still wore his breeches, and he had left the lamp burning. I blew it out, and as the moonlight poured into the room I swung his legs around and propped his head on the pillows. Derek moaned and made a face as I spread a light quilt over him, but he didn't awaken. I left him there in the darkness and hurried down to the kitchen where Cassie was washing the dishes.
"I want you to listen to me carefully," I said. "Don't ask any questions, just do as I say. Go to your cabin and bundle up your things. Adam's, too. Do it quietly. Don't let anyone see you or hear you. Then meet me at the side of the barn, in the shadows."
"I—I don't understand, Miz Marietta. What—"
"Don't ask questions, Cassie! It's important you do exactly as I say."
The girl understood then. She looked incredulous, then frightened, and then she nodded and gave me a quick hug, holding me tightly for a moment as the tears spilled down her cheeks. I blew out the lamp in the kitchen, and Cassie slipped out under the cover of darkness. With luck, all the other slaves would already be in their cabins. Peering out the window, I could barely see the girl as she moved across the dark yard, keeping to the shadows. I suddenly realized the enormity of what I was doing, and doubts besieged me. He would indeed be furious when he discovered the couple gone. He would mount an extensive search. What if he discovered I was responsible... Again I steeled myself. I couldn't afford to think about possible repercussions, not at this point.
Moving quickly down the hall, I stepped into the study. The lamps were burning, filling the room with a mellow golden light, and all the draperies were open. Guiltily, I closed them so that no one could see into the room, and then I stepped over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer, taking out the cigar box. They would need a certain amount of money before they finally reached safety. I didn't intend to take much. Derek probably wouldn't even miss it, I told myself, gingerly removing several of the bills. I folded them up and slipped them into my skirt pocket, then put the box back and closed the drawer.
I was still nervous as I went outside and moved through the darkness toward the barn. Despite my resolution, despite the belief that right was on my side, I felt a tremulous quaking inside as I stepped into the pitch-dark barn and groped my way over to the shelf where I had placed the hammer and chisel earlier on. Chickens were roosting in the barn. They stirred noisily as I ran my hand over the shelf, finally locating the tools. I had been framed and sentenced for a crime I hadn't committed, and now I was committing a crime which, legally at least, was far more serious.
Clutching the tools, I left the barn with its fetid smell of old leather and hay and stole silently away toward the shed. There was too much moonlight, and the shed was far too close to the slave quarters. The horses moved restlessly in their stalls as I passed the stables and an owl hooted, giving me quite a turn. The front of the shed was bathed in luminous silvery moonlight and spread with lacy black shadows that shifted and swayed as the tree limbs moved in the breeze. Peering up at the sky, I could see that the moon was about to disappear behind a bank of clouds. I waited.
Each minute seemed an eternity, for time was of the essence. Elijah couldn't risk hiding them in his secret room, not in such close proximity to Shadow Oaks. He would have to transport them to a farm some fifteen miles away and then return to his own farm before morning. He couldn't afford to be away from his place, come morning, with so much suspicion already directed against him. It would take most of the night for him to accomplish his mission, and every minute that passed was cutting his chances of getting back before first light.
Wisps of cloud floated over the face of the moon, and the gleaming silver began to fade. In a few moments there was a deep velvety blackness, the cover I needed. I stepped to the door of the shed, inserted the edge of the chisel between the wood and the edge of the hasp and began to tap with the hammer, afraid to risk making too much noise. I couldn't have taken the keys, for Derek kept them in the pocket of his breeches, and even had it been possible I couldn't have risked it. This must look as though Adam himself had broken loose with Cassie's help. The hasp must be torn loose, the wood splintered as I was splintering it now.
It was slow work. My nerves were frayed, and I was dreadfully impatient. Taking a deep breath, I gave the chisel one mighty blow. It rang out loud and clear as though a blacksmith had struck his anvil, but the hasp tore free, at last. I opened the door and stepped inside the shed. It was pitch-black and smelled of damp and rotting feed sacks and tar. I couldn't see Adam, but I could feel his presence. I could feel his fear and humiliation. He moved. I heard his chains clanking.
"Who—who dat?" he growled. Although his voice was deep and harsh, there was a slight tremor that hadn't been there before.
"It's me, Adam. I'm going to get you out of here."
"Miz Marietta? You done come to—to help me escape?"
"That's right. I have everything arranged."
"No, ma'am, I cain't let yuh do dat. It's too dangerous. Th' master would—if he wuz to find out, he'd—"
"Don't argue, Adam!"
"You's an angel, a beautiful angel, and I'm thankful for what yuh wanna do, but I cain't let yuh. Th' master'd be wild with anger. He'd whup you, Miz Marietta. He'd—"
"He isn't going to find out. I'm going to have to pick the lock on your shackles, Adam. It shouldn't take long."
The moon came out from behind the clouds then. The shed filled with a misty silver haze. I could see Adam crouching on the floor, iron bracelets on both wrists, the chain fastened around a wooden post. He stood up as I approached, shaking his head. Taking a hairpin from my hair, I took hold of one of his wrists and inserted the pin in the tiny hole the key fitted into. Adam watched, scowling darkly.
"You ain't never gonna undo 'em with that li'l pin, Miz Marietta. It'd take all night."
"Don't bet on it," I retorted, and at that moment there was a sharp click and the bracelet opened, freeing his wrist.
"How—how'd you do dat?"
"There was a girl on the—the prison ship, a girl named Angie. She claimed there wasn't a lock made she couldn't pick with a hairpin, and she taught me how to use one. We'll just leave that other one locked for the time being. We must hurry—"
"Miz Marietta, I jest cain't let yuh—"
"Cassie's waiting for us beside the barn," I interrupted. "Both of you will be in a safe place before the night is over."
"You—you sure you wanna do this, Miz Marietta?"
"Of course I'm sure. Come. We—we'll have to be careful. No one must see us
, not even one of the other slaves. No one knows about this but Mattie. I—I was afraid one of the others might talk."
Adam hesitated just a moment, and then he followed me to the door. We stood waiting for the clouds again, and when it was dark enough we hurried out of the shed and toward the barn, Adam gripping the chain in his hand so that it wouldn't rattle. Cassie was waiting for us in the shadows, clutching a large bundle in her hand. She dropped the bundle and sobbed and hurled herself at Adam. He crushed her to him so fiercely that it seemed her bones would crack. Cassie continued to sob, her shoulders shaking. Adam held her away from him, scowling.
"Hush dat bawlin', woman! You wanna wake up all them niggers?"
"I—I'm jest so happy."
"Did anyone see you, Cassie?" I asked.
Cassie shook her head. "Not a soul, Miz Marietta. I snuck into our cabin like a thief an' moved around quiet as could be. I—I waited till no one was stirrin' 'fore I slipped out here. Dat Caleb, though—he done gone past a minute ago on his way to th' half-moon house. He's likely to be comin' back—"
Before she had finished speaking we heard the boy sauntering back toward the cabins, shuffling his feet and humming to himself. He moved with infuriating slowness, seeming to deliberately dawdle. The owl hooted again. Caleb stopped and cocked his head.
"Where you at, hoot owl?"
Although we were deep in the shadows, the moonlight spilled over the rim of the clouds again, and we could see the boy clearly. He frowned, peering at the trees in an effort to locate the owl. As minute followed minute and he still didn't move, I thought I would scream. Adam sensed my alarm and muttered a curse beneath his breath. Caleb's ears actually lifted. He whirled around to peer into the shadows concealing us, his eyes wide with fright, his mouth hanging open.
"Wh—what dat? Who—who dat I hear?"
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