by Janie DeVos
“Eve!”
My head snapped to the left at the sound of my name. Coming out of the small hammock in front of the house was Ivy, with Moses close behind.
At the same time, Rayne let go of the front of my shirt and swung his pistol around at them. Knowing I only had a second, I grabbed Rayne’s arm and yanked hard. I fell backward off the end of the porch, pulling Rayne down on top of me; his weight knocked every bit of air out of my lungs. Cursing, Rayne pushed himself up and straddled me, and then he balled his hand into a fist and drew it back. As I braced myself for the shattering blow, a rifle shot exploded. Blood spurted out of the right side of Rayne’s head at the same time a good-sized hole appeared on the left.
The look of shock on his face was as frozen as his body in that paralyzing fraction of a second between life and death. I pushed him over and he landed beside me with a thud. Turning over onto my stomach, I searched the tree line behind me. Max came stumbling out of the hammock with his rifle still in his hand. Off to the right, my name was being called, and I turned my head and saw Ivy running toward me. Then I laid my head down on the grass. I was still trying to breathe normally again, but the deep sobbing that started made it nearly impossible to do.
Chapter 31
The Salvation of Indigo
Ivy fell to her knees beside me. She helped me sit up, and we hung on to each other, saying nothing for several minutes, letting tears take the place of words, while Moses ran over to Max. “We gotta get you inside, Max!” he said, half holding and half carrying Max. “You’ve been hit!”
“Help him, Ivy!” I sobbed. “Please! He’s hurt real bad.”
Ivy and Moses got him into the house, then took him straight back to the kitchen. Ivy laid Max down on a long oak table and began to carefully cut away his blood-soaked bandages and shirt. Within seconds of his wound being exposed, I could see, as well as smell, the deadly telltale sign of infection. There was an enormous amount of dried blood on Max’s chest, but there was also a small stream of it oozing out of the wound. Red lines radiated out from it.
“Eve, throw some wood into that stove,” Ivy instructed. “And get that fire built up. Then fill that pot with water—the one sitting on the back of the stove there—and get that to boiling. I need you to cut some cloth into strips for bandages and I’m gonna need plenty of ’em. Take clothes—or anything else you can find—and start rippin’ ’em up.”
“Moses,” she turned to him. “I need needles and thread, the heaviest thread you can find. Fishin’ line, if you can’t find thread. And I need some whiskey. I doubt there’s any left around here, so check Rayne; he may have brought some.” I told Moses to check the saddlebags on the horses tied up in the large hammock behind the house.
“How close is he to dyin’, Ivy?” I asked as I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets looking for any kind of cloth. Max was slipping in and out of consciousness, and his face had paled to a chalky white, making the deep purple veins in his neck and face stand out, as well as the spidery red lines spreading out from his wound.
“Close, Eve. Real close. Here, help me sit him up so I can take a look at his back. I think the bullet exited but I want to double-check.” I joined her at the table but stood across from her, and then we each carefully slipped an arm beneath him and raised him up. Max groaned in pain. Quickly, Ivy examined his back. “That’s good. It’s out. Okay, let’s lay him down again. That’s one less thing to worry about, but we’ve got an even bigger problem on our hands. That infection is really bad. Hopefully, it hasn’t already gone to his heart, but if we don’t get it stopped—and soon—it will.”
Suddenly, my sister went completely still, as though she was listening to some inner voice guiding her; then she quickly turned toward the window. “Eve, you see that old field out there?” she asked as she turned to look at me. “That’s indigo. The slaves called it ‘the devil’s blue dye.’ I need you to go out there and pull up a mess of it up—roots ’n all. That little devil plant might end up being Max’s salvation. If anything can stop this infection, indigo can.”
I hurried out to the field and gathered up an armload of the wildly growing blue-flowered plant and quickly took it back in to Ivy.
“Set it on the counter,” she said, handing me a knife. “That water’s boilin’ now. Cut those roots off and throw all of ’em in that water. We’re gonna make a tincture out of them so we can clean Max from the inside out. And we’re gonna cut those blue flowers off and make a paste out of them. I’ll be damned if y’all rode all this way to have him die on me.”
There were times when our mother had said that my sister’s stubborn determination was the thing most likely to kill her. At the moment, though, it was the one thing that might keep Max alive.
Chapter 32
Fraction of a Fraction
For three days, Max’s infection looked like it would be the victor. He drifted in and out of consciousness and was delirious at times, which was probably the most frightening thing of all. He yelled out in anger at ghosts that only he could see or moaned in pain, though I wasn’t sure if it was physical or emotional. Saddest of all, though, was the night he cried out people’s names—including his mother’s and siblings’, as well as others I did not know. He never opened his eyes during that bout of feverish ramblings, although tears slowly trailed down his cheeks. When he finally fell asleep, he was restless. Ivy and I took turns watching him, trying to keep him as still and quiet as we could for fear he’d rip open his stitches and start bleeding all over again. But the morning after, he became still and quiet, so much so that I brought my cheek down to his mouth several times just to see if I could still feel his breath on my skin. Finally, at the end of three days, his fever broke, and his eyes seem to refocus on the present, leaving the past, and the ghosts that haunted him, behind.
I walked toward the back bedroom on the main floor. It was early morning, and I was carrying a fresh pitcher of water to refill the empty one on the nightstand by Max’s bed. As the fever had raged on, so had his thirst, and we gave him as much water as he could drink. It was vital in helping to flush out the toxins in his body.
I knocked softly on the door, and Max told me to come in. The night before was the first night neither Ivy nor I had slept on the floor next to him, and I was happy to see that he was awake, sitting up in bed and that more of his color had returned. “I was afraid I might wake you,” I said as I walked to the nightstand and poured the water into his pitcher. “Are you hungry?”
“You know, I believe I am.” Using his good hand, he adjusted the pillow behind himself and sat up a little higher. “Good Lord, I’m sore!” he said as he moved his left arm slightly, testing it.
“That’s good! That means you’re alive. Do you want to try eating in the kitchen, or do you want me to bring some breakfast to you?”
“No, I’ll come to the kitchen. Let me ask you something, Eve. How long have we been here?”
“This is the start of the fourth full day—though five if you include the afternoon we got here.”
“Are Ivy and Moses around?” I told him they were finishing up their breakfast. “Good. Make sure they don’t head out somewhere. As soon as I can get a cup of coffee in me, we’ve got to talk about getting out of here. When Tom and Rayne don’t show up back in Silver Springs, your father’s bound to send someone after them to figure out what’s going on, or he might just try making the trip himself. We want to put a whole lot of ground between us and whoever comes lookin’.”
“Okay, I’ll tell Ivy and Moses. We have a pan of biscuits but only molasses to put on ’em, I’m afraid. The pickin’s are pretty slim around here.” I turned and moved toward the door.
“Biscuits and molasses sound real good.”
“I think you’re on the road to recovery.” I smiled.
“I’ve got to be ’cause we need to get out of here.”
“Couldn’t you give yourself
a couple more days to rest?”
“We all might have an eternity of it if we don’t get a move on. Your father isn’t going to wait until I’m all better to start the hunt again.”
“I’ll pour your coffee,” I said, closing the door to give him some privacy.
Max joined us in the kitchen a few minutes later. Other than moving a little slower than usual and not standing quite as straight as he normally did, he looked good—far, far better than he had several nights before.
“Morning,” Max addressed Ivy and Moses.
“Good to have you with us, Max.” Ivy looked so pleased. “The other night, we weren’t quite sure you’d be around to see another sunrise.”
“Well, thanks to all of you, I will, and I aim to for a long while to come.” He poured molasses over several biscuits and dug in. After washing a bite down with a swig of coffee, he got right down to business. “Okay, we need to figure out what y’all want to do and then get down to doin’ it. I wish we could’ve gotten a good start a few days ago, but we didn’t, so we’ve got to make some serious tracks now—that is, if you’re still planning on headin’ south.” Ivy and Moses assured him they were. “Okay, but I have a couple of questions for y’all. How come you didn’t just keep going instead of making a detour? What happened?”
“Ivy was feelin’ real poorly,” Moses explained. “She had that mornin’ sickness, and it got so bad she could barely stay on her horse. Said she felt better walkin’ than ridin’, and, o’ course, that was slowin’ us way down.”
Ivy jumped in. “I knew if anybody was lookin’ for us, at the rate we were going, they’d catch up to us in no time. I was so sick that the only thing we could do was head over here and let me rest for a few days.”
“Ivy, I’m sure Eve has already told you that your father wants to do more than just catch up with you, right?”
Ivy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Choked up, she looked down at the table and merely nodded.
Max reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.” A minute of heavy silence followed while each of us was lost in our own sorrow or anger or regrets.
Ivy got up from the table and looked out the kitchen window. After a moment, she inhaled deeply, as though to fortify herself. Then she grabbed the coffeepot and refilled Max’s cup.
“We still want to go south, Max. We want to get as far away from here as we can. Emmitt mentioned Seminole country down in the Everglades. Do you know anything about that place, and those people?”
“I do.” Max nodded. “There’re just a small group of Seminoles left down there. About two hundred, I guess. Most of the Seminoles were forced to go to Oklahoma, but some just refused to give up their home and ventured deeper into the ’Glades. The white soldiers weren’t too keen on following them, so they left them alone. Figured they couldn’t do much harm there. And the likelihood that they’d be killed off by gators or snakes before too long made the army just let ’em go. But they survived, and some of those who did were my family. I don’t know if they’re still there, though, or even alive, for that matter.”
“Who are they?” Moses asked.
“My mother’s brother. Some cousins, maybe. I’m not sure. The last time I was there was several years ago. Folks move on. And speaking of which, we better get a move on.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Gather up anything y’all need. We’ll take what food we can, and then we’re heading out.”
“Let me ask you one thing, Max.” Moses looked deeply worried. “How do we know those Seminoles will take us in? What if they tell us to go back where we came from?”
“They’re not going to because we’re gonna make it worth their while to let y’all stay. We’re gonna give the chief ol’ Tom’s and Rayne’s horses. And just to make sure that deal is sweet enough, we’re gonna give him their guns, too. Somehow, I think they’ll find it in their hearts to let you stay.” He smiled.
We all got busy packing up. As I gathered up the few things I had, I kept thinking about the fact that we were going into unknown territory and would meet a group of people I knew nothing about, not their ways, language, or customs. Nor did I know how they felt about white people, though I could pretty well figure that they had no great love for them. But Max had family there, which was both surprising to me, as well as encouraging. Hopefully, they’d be more willing to accept my sister and Moses because of their connection to Max, especially if we gifted them with the horses and guns. According to Max, that would nearly guarantee that Ivy and Moses would be permitted to stay. But I was not nearly as confident that they should stay—especially Ivy. I worried that she wouldn’t be treated as an equal, that she would be used, even abused, or perhaps neglected because she was white. How the tables had turned in my familiar and perfectly boxed-up black-and-white world, I thought. Suddenly, I felt a fraction of a fraction of what the black man and the red man had felt for hundreds of years, and that tiniest taste of empathy made me terrified for my sister.
Chapter 33
Where the Smoke Spirals
We traveled southwest for a couple of days and then headed south, stopping at any body of water where we could water our horses and catch fish, frogs, or turtles. Because of Ivy’s condition, and Max’s injury, we were forced to go slower than we would have liked, but to move any faster would have risked the lives of both Ivy and her baby and reopened Max’s wound. But our slower pace allowed each of us time to think, and I thought a lot about what all had transpired in the last couple of weeks and what might lie ahead.
For the most part, my thoughts were grim, and I quietly worried about how drastically our lives could change in the blink of an eye, or the firing of a gun. Though we didn’t think anyone was following us at that point, there was always the threat that trackers could show up at any time. I tried not to dwell on that possibility for too long for it served no purpose, but the threat was constantly with us and never far from my mind, nor anyone else’s. I tried to stay focused on what we needed to be doing next, whether that was looking for food, fixing a meal or finding a safe enough looking spot to spend the night.
The farther south we went, the more the terrain changed. Bromeliads and wild orchids clung to the trees like babies holding tight to their mothers. While much of the vegetation also grew in Silver Springs, some did not. The plants I’d never encountered before seemed more primitive and wild than any I had ever seen in central Florida.
One of the most pleasant surprises was the abundance of wild fruits, dispelling all fears about food being scarce or difficult and dangerous to obtain. We ate with relish, which did more than just help to build Max’s and Ivy’s strength; it helped to lift our spirits, as well. So very little had been easy for any of us since we’d left Silver Springs that we welcomed the gift of abundant food with grateful hearts and big appetites.
The land became as flat as a board. Gone were the gentle hills of central Florida, replaced, instead, with soggy marshes and large swamps—vast pockmarks in a seemingly endless river of grass. The air was heavy with humidity, and to say it was oppressively hot was like saying cotton candy was sweet. It was so hot that our horses’ sweat seeped through our clothing.
Late on the third day of traveling, Max, who rode several yards ahead of us and had done so much of the way, held up his hand, signaling for us to stop. “There,” he said, pointing to thin spires of smoke in the distance that were barely visible against the pink and orange colors of the fading day. “We’re here.”
No one said a word as we took in this new land. The apprehension of what lay ahead held each of us in place.
“We must go,” Max finally said as he kicked his heels against Sampson. “We don’t want to enter the village in the dark. Let’s give them a chance to welcome us before killing us.”
He smiled, though it was tight and unsure. Seeing that tiny crack in his confidence made me question our decisions. I thou
ght about turning around and begging Moses and Ivy to come with me, but instead, I kicked my heels against Maggie and fell in behind Max. The odds were that what lay ahead was far better than what we’d left behind.
We slowly wound our way through endless thickets of palmetto bushes, and other prickly, piercing plants. Aside from wanting to approach the village while there was still light, we also wanted to get there before we were forced to play Russian roulette in the dark with fat rattlesnakes and vicious water moccasins. Even a place as foreign as the Seminole village seemed like the safer choice.
As we approached the village, we saw women sweeping out their raised homes. Each dwelling, or chickee, as Max called them, was built on stilts, raising it off the ground by several feet so that flooding would never be an issue. The roofs were thatched with palmetto fiber attached to rafters, and there were no walls. As sweltering as the heat and humidity were, the likelihood of death by heatstroke would have been quite high if their homes had been enclosed. What the people lacked in privacy, they gained in cross breezes.
The women were totally engrossed in their vigorous cleaning. They wore long, layered patchwork skirts with short blouses and many layers of beads. Except for the younger children, all the women wore their hair in topknots, and their skin colors ranged from a light reddish-bronze to the deepest mahogany; there was a sprinkling of colored women among them.
Off to my left, men were busy throwing pottery, furnishings, and clothing into a pile, which would soon be set ablaze. A man holding a torch stood in the background, looking as though he was patiently waiting for the last items to be included. Finally, a bench was heaped on top, and the man with the torch walked up to the pile and began to light the mound at its base.
“The Green Corn Festival,” Max said so softly that I had to ask him to repeat it. “It’s the festival that honors the ripening of the corn. It’s a time of renewal and a time of cleansing and for giving thanks. They’re burning old items that are no longer needed—like pottery and old food—and replacing them with new things as a symbol of a fresh start. The men will fast and take ceremonial baths, and some will drink the black drink, which will make them purge everything in their system, just as they’ve purged much from their homes.”