Other boots pounded over sticks and dried leaves. “Run!” Bridget cried.
Ruth straightened her shoulders and stood her ground. “We ain’t runaways. We still on Harris lands!”
The greasy head man whistled. “Listen at this one here!”
A thick hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked into the face of a massive white man with a beard reaching to his chest. His eyes were hard. She turned her attention back to the greasy one.
“I said we ain’t runaways. We’s on our way back to the big house now. We only slept here in these woods because the fire was too hot, and we didn’t know how far it was gonna run.”
The burly one holding her wrist laughed from his gut, and the hairs on the back of Ruth’s neck stood on end. She tried to swallow, but all moisture left her mouth.
Another man stepped through the trees. He wore a floppy hat low on his wide brow, his eyes set too deep into his head. “We don’t care none where you came from or where you think you’re going, Negro. You belong to me now.”
Ruth tried to pull away from her captor, but he held fast, unfazed by her efforts.
“Come on, boys,” the one with the floppy hat said. “These two’ll have to do. Don’t see any others out here. We best be moving on.” He eyed Bridget. “Nice shape on that one. Bet she’ll bring a good price.”
Ruth’s heart hammered. She struggled harder, slamming her head back into the bearded chin behind her. The man let out a yowl and let her go as he reached for his face. Ruth darted to the side.
“Run, Ruth!” Bridget shouted. She hesitated. She couldn’t leave her sister here with these men. Going for help wouldn’t do much good. Mr. Harris might send someone looking for a stolen slave, but he might also start asking questions. He was probably too concerned with the fire to care if one got away.
A hand wrapped around her throat. “You’re gonna regret that, Negro.” He squeezed hard. She couldn’t breathe. Ruth kicked her feet, but the man only hefted her higher, making her toes barely scrape the ground. Her vision started to grow fuzzy around the edges.
“Stop! Don’t kill her. Please. I promise! I promise we’ll be good!” Bridget’s voice sounded muffled, like she was trying to talk underwater.
Ruth grew weak, her kicks losing vigor. Bridget wailed again, and then everything went black.
Her head hurt. Pain throbbed at both temples. Ruth cracked open one eye, then immediately squeezed it shut against the searing light. Voices jumbled together around her along with the sounds of stamping hooves and clanging dinnerware. Where was she?
Memories flooded back, and she jerked awake, instantly regretting the sudden movement. Her head swam, and her vision threatened to fade again. Ruth struggled to sit upright with her hands bound behind her back. She sat at the edge of a clearing near a tree. Movement to her left caught her attention. A young boy with wide eyes stared at her, and a few others huddled nearby. She could only guess where they’d come from. They weren’t Cedar Hall field hands.
Her gaze swung back out in front of her. She seemed to be in some sort of camp. Besides the small gathering of people, who looked starved and terrified, there were three ragged tents with two horses hobbled nearby. Two of the white men who’d snatched her, Greasy Hair and Big Beard, sat by the fire roasting a rabbit over the flames. Panic gripped her chest. Where was Bridget?
One of the tent flaps rustled, and the man with the floppy hat stepped out, tugging on his breeches. His gaze slid over to her and when their eyes met his lips parted into a yellowed smile. He turned and walked over to the fire, slapping Greasy Hair on the shoulder. Both men laughed.
“So’s it my turn now?” Big Beard asked.
Floppy Hat shook his head. “I ain’t done with that one yet. When I’ve had my fill, you can have her.”
Bile rose into the back of Ruth’s throat.
“How’s come you get to have first go?” Big Beard grumbled.
“’Cause this here’s my operation. Don’t you be forgetting that. You do your job like you’re supposed to, or I’ll turn you in to them that was hunting your hide.”
Big Beard stood up, towering over the other two. Greasy Hair flinched and kept his focus on turning the rabbit. “You think you’re the boss of me, Byram? I joined this outfit ’cause you promised me easy money. If you get to take pleasure in the goods, then so do I.” His beefy face reddened, and the muscles in his neck flexed.
Floppy Hat, the one the big man called Byram, looked a little pale, but she had a hard time telling with white folks. He looked to be trying real hard to hide the fact he feared the man standing over him.
Byram lifted his hand. “Now, now, Frank, I ain’t trying to spoil your fun. Tell you what. You can have first go at that one.” He pointed at Ruth.
No!
She struggled against the coarse rope binding her wrists. Frank grinned and started walking toward her, slow and steady like the lumbering bear she imagined him to be, and every bit as dangerous as ones she’d heard about in the stories. Worse, even.
Her stomach wrenched. Her hands became slick with sweat, and she tugged as hard as she could on the cord that stole her freedom. One hand slipped a little.
Frank stood over her. “Looks like this one’s got some white in her. Guess that master of yours likes to play around with the livestock, huh?”
Greasy Hair and Byram laughed.
If she could just get her hand a little farther…
“See now, Frank. I’m fair. Albert, there’s a young one over there been trying to hide.” Frank pointed past Ruth to a girl who couldn’t have yet reached her woman years, holding the hand of the captive woman next to her. The elderly woman drew the child to her chest. Frank grinned. “Scrawny thing. Perfect for the likes of you.”
“Ain’t in the mood.”
Frank laughed and turned his attention away from Ruth and the others. She doubled her efforts in pulling free. The rope dug into her skin, and blood started to trickle down her fingers. Almost. Just a little more and…
“What’s the matter Albert? You ain’t into the girls?”
Albert shrugged. “You do what you want. I’m here for the money, and then I’m done. I don’t want no part of ravishing children. It ain’t right.” He pulled the rabbit from the fire.
Frank scratched his head. “But they’re just slaves.”
Albert stared at him, looking as though he wanted to say something. His gaze darted to Ruth. The tiniest bit of compassion flickered. She latched on to it and shot him a pleading glance.
Albert shrugged. “Food’s done. Why don’t you eat first?”
Frank cursed and spat in Albert’s direction. “I got a different appetite right now. You boys go on ahead.”
Albert didn’t say anything more. He tugged the rabbit free of the stick with his knife and slid it on a dented pie plate.
Frank stepped closer to Ruth. She kicked and thrashed, connecting with his shin. Frank reached down and grabbed her hair, hauling her to her feet.
She screamed.
From the side of her vision, she caught sight of Bridget stumbling out of the tent holding her torn dress to her chest. Her eyes were full of fear, and her lip bled. Ruth forgot about the pain in her scalp. She balled her freed fist and swung as hard as she could. Her knuckles connected with the white man’s nose, and it gave a satisfying crack.
He dropped her. Ruth hit the ground and rolled to her side, breathing hard. She’d never struck a white person before. Now she would hang for sure.
Frank growled and smeared the blood from his nose across his sleeve. He called her a word she’d never heard before. “You gonna pay for that.”
Ruth struggled back in the dirt, rocks and branches scratching her legs. He stepped closer and had reached out when a gun blast rang through the air.
“What you fellows doing out here?” A man in a wide-brimmed hat stood at the edge of the trees holding a shotgun aimed right at Frank.
Byram jumped to his feet. “We’re just traveling through. Mo
ving some of Mr. Harris’ property down to his family’s land whilst they deal with that fire.”
Should she scream? Yell out that they’d been stolen? She glanced to Bridget. She gave a small shake of her head. Ruth deflated. Bridget was right. Best wait to see what this man was about. Likely as not he’d be no friendlier than the others, and her protests would only lead to more trouble.
The man in the hat narrowed his eyes. “Seems like he’d need plenty of help around to take care of all that needs to be cleaned up, wouldn’t you think?”
Byram crossed his arms over his thick chest and glared at the man. “What’s it matter to you?”
The man with the shotgun spat. His gaze slid over to Frank. “I hear there’s a reward on that fellow there.”
Frank stepped toward the intruder, blocking Ruth’s view of him. She glanced back to Bridget. They locked eyes and a message shot between them. Ruth nodded.
Bridget eased away from the tent and closer to the edge of the tree line. Ruth gathered her feet under her and slowly stood behind the lumbering form of the big man in front of her.
“What business you got with me?” Frank bellowed. “Who are you, anyway?”
Ruth stepped quietly backward to increase her distance from the thick scent of sweat and liquor drifting off Frank’s wide back. Her stomach rolled. A twig snapped under her foot, and Ruth’s heart dropped. No one noticed.
“My name’s of no consequence to you.”
A shotgun blast rattled the air, and Frank dove to the ground. Ruth didn’t wait to see what would happen. She broke for the trees and scurried through the bramble as quickly as she could, praying Bridget did the same.
More shots fired, and men shouted behind her, filling the air with curses and the smell of smoke. Ruth tripped on a root and fell to the ground, scraping her hands on the forest debris. She dared a look behind her. No Bridget. She had to be coming! They were almost free. She scrambled to her feet and searched the area around her. No one followed. She could make it to freedom. But she couldn’t leave her sister. It wasn’t Bridget’s fault any of this had happened.
She clutched her hand over her heart and tried to keep the despair from rendering her immobile. All her fault. The fire, her mother and brother, and now this. No. She couldn’t think on that now. She had to get them away.
Ruth crept slowly back to the tree line. Where did Bridget go? There. Her sister crouched behind the tent, just out of sight of the man with the floppy hat. Their eyes met. Bridget shook her head and put a finger to her lips. She pointed to the big man just two paces away from her. Ruth crouched low. Silence settled, and Ruth tried to control her heavy breathing so it wouldn’t give her away.
“Look here now, I got equal share in these slaves, and when we sell them, I’ll have a hefty sum. Why worry with hauling me all the way in to the law when you could make more from these here than from me?” Frank said.
The man with the gun let out a loud hoot and laughed. Ruth narrowed her eyes at Frank. Whatever he’d done, it must have gotten him in a lot of trouble.
“No, I think I’m going to collect that reward. Can’t wait on your share and hang around to see if you’re going to run off.”
The other two men didn’t speak. The man with the gun raised it to his shoulder and took aim at Frank. “Now, are you going to come with me or not?”
Frank looked to Byram, but Byram kept his head down. Ruth crouched lower in the trees and looked to Bridget again. She motioned for her to come on. Bridget pressed her lips together and after a long moment finally nodded.
Frank dove behind the tent, nearly on top of Bridget as a shotgun blast tore through the flimsy fabric. Bridget screamed, scrambled away from Frank and dashed to Ruth. Ruth grabbed her hand and pulled her through the trees.
“Run!”
They hurried through the brush, a man howling behind them. Ruth pulled Bridget along, desperate to get away while the white men fought. Bridget’s hand suddenly jerked out of hers, and Bridget cried out.
Ruth spun around to find Bridget on the ground, holding her ankle and tears streaming down her face.
“Come on! You got to get up!”
“I can’t!” Bridget wailed.
“You got to, or we are both gonna die!”
Ruth looped her sister’s arm around her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. “Can you walk on it?”
Bridget tested a little weight on her foot and immediately buckled. She shook her head, biting her lip. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You go on without me. Get away from these awful men.” The tears crested her eyes and flowed unheeded down her cheeks.
“No. I won’t leave you. All we got is each other now.” Ruth pulled on Bridget. “Just lean on me. We can still make to somewhere to hide before they realize we’re gone.”
They hobbled through the woods, Bridget leaning heavily on Ruth, and Ruth fighting through the thick underbrush as best she could. She didn’t know if she would be able to support Bridget much longer. They needed somewhere to hide. And soon.
Please, God. Can’t you help us?
“Look!” Bridget said, pulling Ruth’s gaze from the forest floor. “I see a big tree that’s fallen over there. I bet we can get under it.”
Ruth looked to where her sister pointed. A massive oak had uprooted recently, its thick branches snaring on the surrounding woods and preventing it from completely falling to the ground. The tangled mess of limbs created a thick covering almost like a tent. Ruth exhaled a sigh of relief, and they made their way to it.
Crawling on hands and knees, they scooted through the limbs. The wilting leaves still clung to the branches and provided them a thick blanket of cover.
They huddled together on the damp ground. “Let me see that ankle.”
Bridget stretched her leg out for Ruth to see. It was starting to swell. Ruth shook her head. “We’re gonna have to get you to some kinda doctor.”
“How you think we gonna do something like that?”
Ruth ground her teeth. She didn’t know. Even if they evaded the white men long enough, there were bound to be others that would either take them for themselves or send them back to Cedar Hall. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.”
Bridget sighed. “I don’t see how….”
“Shhhhh!”
Bridget snapped her mouth shut and huddled closer to Ruth. Neither dared to breathe. Footsteps. Bridget looked to Ruth with wide eyes, a whimper escaping her throat. Ruth squeezed her hand.
“I know you’re in there.” Byram’s deep voice called. He laughed, but it was a dark sound with no humor. “Come on, now. You didn’t really think that you could escape me, did you?”
Ruth swallowed the thick lump in her throat and tugged on Bridget’s arm, pointing to a small hole in the leaves just behind her. They turned over onto their knees and started to crawl out from underneath the tree.
Bridget screamed. “He’s got me!”
Ruth whipped her head around to see Byram holding tight onto Bridget’s injured ankle, his thick sausage fingers digging into the tender flesh. Bridget wailed as he pulled her backward.
“I told you, you’re mine!”
He snatched Bridget from under the cover of the tree, and then held her up by one arm. Ruth scurried out just as his beefy hand landed a slap across Bridget’s face. “I am your master now. Why do you make me punish you?” He slapped her again, her head rolling back.
“Stop!” Ruth cried, grabbing onto his arm and trying to claw his hand free from Bridget’s skin. He growled at her. “I’ll deal with you later.” He shoved hard, sending her to the ground.
He let Bridget slide to the forest floor and then nudged her with his big boot. “Are you going to run away from me again, girl?”
“No! Please, I’m sorry!”
He pulled back and landed a solid kick to her stomach, and she curled into a tight ball.
“Please! Please, stop! You’re going to kill her!” Ruth screamed.
He stopped with his foot rai
sed and turned his enraged gaze on Ruth. Bridget moaned, and he looked down at her, shock flitting across his features. He shook his head. “Why’d you make me do it?” He turned and grabbed Ruth’s wrist and twisted until she cried out. “No more lip out of you. You hear me?”
Ruth nodded, the fire shooting up her arm stealing her breath. He dropped her arm and picked up Bridget, throwing her limp body over his shoulder. He held on to her with one arm and grabbed Ruth with the other. Then he took them through the woods and back to the camp Ruth had hoped to escape from. She saw no sign of Frank and Albert or the man with the gun, only the frightened expressions of the captives who must have been too afraid to run during the commotion.
Byram tossed Bridget on the ground. She didn’t move. Byram picked up a rope and tied one end to Ruth’s wrist and then linked all the colored people together, Ruth on one end and Bridget on the other, before disappearing into his tent. When the sounds of Byram’s snoring split the silence, Ruth called to Bridget in a harsh whisper.
“Bridget!”
She moaned.
“Bridget, you okay?”
“No, child. I don’t think she is.” The elderly woman with kind eyes and missing teeth looked at Ruth with sadness. The woman was now tied directly to Bridget, and had been separated from the little girl she’d earlier been trying to protect from Frank.
Ruth crawled over to her sister, the others being kind enough to move with her and allow her the ability to reach Bridget.
Ruth cradled Bridget’s head in her lap. “Bridget? Can you hear me?”
A full moon overhead gave enough light for her to see Bridget’s eyes flutter open. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Ruth shook her head, tears spilling over. “Don’t you be sorry. This is all my fault. You’re gonna be all right. Don’t worry.”
Bridget gave her a weak smile. “Think Momma’ll have some biscuits for us in the morning?”
Ruth choked back the sob in her throat and stroked her sister’s hair. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure she will.”
The Whistle Walk: A Civil War Novel (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 1) Page 4