Columns of Cottonwood

by Sandra Robbins

  Dante choked back the nausea rolling in his stomach. “Women and children, too?”

  “Yes.” Henry wiped at his eyes and blinked. “The folks scattered, but the riders came after them, yelling and shooting. When the men finished havin’ their fun, they rode off.”

  Dante put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Did you know the ones who were killed?”

  Henry blinked back tears and stared at Dante. “Abraham’s Hattie, her father, mother, and brother are all dead. How we gonna tell Abraham?”

  Dante shook his head. “I don’t know.” He remembered how happy Abraham had looked the night before when he told Savannah about the young woman he wanted to marry. “You said the men wore hoods?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did anyone see anything familiar about them?”

  “They know who done it.”

  Dante frowned. “But the sheriff came by home this morning, and he didn’t know who they were. Why haven’t they told him?”

  Henry grunted in disgust. “ ’Cause they know he won’t do nothing to the owner of Oak Hill Plantation.”

  Dante’s mouth gaped in surprise. “Jonathan Boyer? How do they know?”

  “Some of the men are former slaves from Oak Hill. They recognized his horse. He was the leader of the bunch.”

  Dante rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Oh, this is going to be rough on Savannah. Jonathan has been her friend all her life.”

  “Well, they say he’s a right mean man, and they don’t want to do nothing else to make him mad.” Henry glanced back the way he had come out of the settlement. “They’re havin’ a hard time diggin’ them graves. They only got one shovel. Folks are just scratching at the ground with whatever they got.”

  Dante took a deep breath. “We need to help. It’ll take too long to go to Cottonwood for shovels. I’ll go into town and get some at the store. You go on back and tell them. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  Henry nodded. “Yes, sir. I reckon they’ll be much obliged.”

  Dante untied the reins of his horse and swung into the saddle. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He dug his heels into the horse’s sides and leaned forward as the horse galloped away. He’d known Jonathan Boyer was filled with anger, but he never would have suspected him of murder.

  Then there was Abraham. He had no idea how he was going to break this horrible news to him. As he rode toward town, he prayed for the survivors of last night’s raid. The people at the Crossroads had suffered for years as slaves. Freedom had only brought them different problems. As free men and women, they hadn’t been able to escape the cruelty of men determined to make them suffer.

  Men like Jonathan Boyer couldn’t believe the changes the war had brought to the South. Instead of accepting the way life was now, they chose to harbor anger that festered like giant sores in their souls. And who better to unleash their anger on than the people they perceived as the ones who caused their way of life to collapse.

  Until the ones who raided the Crossroads were caught, no former slaves in the county would be safe. Someone had to put a stop to Jonathan Boyer and his band of murderers.

  ❧

  Savannah put her sewing aside, got up from her chair, and walked to the window. Dante still hadn’t come home, and the sun had already begun to dip behind the horizon. She peered outside, but he and Henry were nowhere in sight.

  Ever since he left earlier in the day, she had tried to keep busy, but she couldn’t get her mind off what the sheriff had said. If some of the people were hurt, she and Mamie could be of help. But if they were needed, Dante would have sent for her.

  She sighed and trudged to the stove to check the beans that simmered in the pot. She stirred them and thought of Aunt Jane’s insistence on their having a vegetable garden last summer. Thank goodness for the bounty they’d had. It had come in handy to feed all the mouths that now lived at Cottonwood.

  She replaced the lid on the pot and turned back to her chair just as the door opened and Dante walked in. Patches of dirt smudged his face and coat, but it was the look on his face that sent shivers through her.

  Her throat went dry, and she tried to swallow. “How bad was it?”

  He pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hand across his face. “Ten dead. Henry and I helped dig the graves.”

  Her hand went to her throat, and her heart pounded. “Were any of them Cottonwood people?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. It seems that the Oak Hill former slaves suffered more than any.”

  She hurried across the room and stood in front of him. “Oh no. I knew some of them. How awful this must be for Jonathan.”

  His face darkened, and his body shook with anger. “Awful? I doubt it since he and his friends were the ones who did it.”

  She’d never seen Dante so upset, and it scared her. Shaking her head, she reached for his coat. “Let me help you with your coat. I know you’re upset, but it’s ridiculous to blame Jonathan for something like this.”

  He pulled away from her. “And why would you think that?”

  “Because I know him, and he’s not a murderer.”

  He regarded her with a steady gaze. “Have you forgotten how he’s behaved ever since we married? You said the war changed him, and I think it made him into some kind of monster.”

  Her cheeks burned, but she stared back at him. “He lost his way of life in the war, and he’s just rebelling against that. But Jonathan would never commit murder.”

  Fists clenched at his sides, he advanced on her. “How can you defend him?”

  She trembled at his anger. “B–because I’ve known him all my life. He couldn’t kill anyone.”

  “Well, he did!” Dante shouted.

  She took another step back. “Did anybody see him?”

  “No, they wore hoods.”

  “Then how did they know it was Jonathan?”

  He leaned toward her. “Some of them recognized his horse.”

  “His horse? Lots of horses look alike. It could have been anybody with a horse that looked like his.”

  Dante advanced on her, and she backed away until she felt the kitchen table behind her. He stopped in front of her and stared at her for a moment. “So you’re choosing to stand up for a killer.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes. “Please understand, Dante.”

  His body sagged, and he backed away. “I do. He’s an old friend, and I’m an outsider who happened to trap you into marriage. I thought you were different from everybody else in Willow Bend, but you’re not. Instead of believing your husband, who talked to the people Boyer attacked, you choose to defend him.” He took a deep breath and turned toward the door. “I have to go see Abraham and tell him the news.”

  Stunned by Dante’s last words, Savannah rushed forward and stopped him. “What do you have to tell Abraham?”

  He regarded her with an icy glare. “That Hattie was one of the people Jonathan gunned down last night. I dug her grave myself.”

  She pressed her hand to her mouth. “No, please tell me that’s not true.”

  He took a deep breath. “Oh, but it is. I buried her right next to her parents and her brother while Henry was digging the grave of a woman and her baby.”

  Tears streamed down her face, and she reached out to Dante. “You’re upset over what you’ve seen today. What can I do to help you?”

  He stared at her hand before he pulled away from her grasp. “There’s nothing you can do. I don’t understand people who hate that much, and I don’t understand those that close their eyes to the evil around them.” He took a deep breath. “I should never have come to Willow Bend. I’ll always be an outsider here.”

  Before Savannah could respond, he walked out of the cabin. She stared at the closed door a moment before she bent forward and pressed her forehead to the cool wood.

  Her heart thudded at the memory of Dante’s face and the words he’d said. He sounded as if he thought she’d chosen between him and Jonathan. That wasn’t true.
She only needed to make some sense out of the whole situation.

  Her words hurt Dante. He didn’t mean it when he said he never should have come to Willow Bend. If he hadn’t come, she never would have met him, and they wouldn’t be married. And if they hadn’t married, she might never have fallen in love.

  Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. The way Dante had spoken sounded as if he didn’t believe she really loved him. If that was the case, she had to find a way to show him that he was the most important thing in her life. The loss of Cottonwood was nothing compared to what it would be like to lose Dante.

  ❧

  Dante stopped on the porch of the cabin and pondered what he should do. He hadn’t meant to speak so sharply to Savannah, but her words had ripped his heart. Ever since they’d been married, he’d done everything he could to make her trust him. Just last night she’d said she loved him, yet she still chose Jonathan over him.

  He’d spoken in anger, and that wasn’t like him at all. He never should have said what he did about not coming to Willow Bend. The best things that had ever happened in his life had occurred here. He’d always dreamed of owning land, and now he did, but he wanted more. He wanted his wife’s love.

  He raked his hand through his hair. Maybe what he’d feared all along was true. Savannah had married him so she could come back to Cottonwood, and she had played the part of his wife well. But that’s all it was—just a role like in a play so that she could keep her end of the bargain.

  Dante shook the thoughts from his head. Other things needed to be faced now.

  He glanced at the cabin a short distance away and knew that Saul’s family waited inside for news of friends. With a heavy heart, he stepped off the porch and headed toward their cabin.

  Before he could knock on the door, it flew open. Saul stood in the lamplight from inside. A worried expression lined his face. “Mistuh Dante, we’s been worried ’bout you and Henry. What you find out?”

  Dante looked past Saul to Mamie, Abraham, and Joshua, who hovered in the room behind. He didn’t have the words to tell Abraham what he had come to say. That news needed to come from his father.

  He cleared his throat and motioned for Saul to follow him outside. When they stood alone on the porch, Dante related the events of the day. As he told of burying Hattie’s body, tears burned his eyes, and he wiped at them.

  Saul stood speechless, his mouth slightly open. When Dante finished, he put his hand on Saul’s shoulder. “I thought it best if this news came from you. You’ll know how to tell Abraham.”

  Saul’s lips quivered, and he gazed past Dante toward the remains of the big house. “When we heared the war was over and we was free, we thought life was gwine be good for us, but that ain’t the way it’s been.”

  “I know,” Dante murmured. “It may take a long time for things to change in the South, but it will, Saul. Someday it will be different.”

  “Someday ain’t gwine help those what died at the Crossroads. All they wanted was to live like ev’rybody else what’s free.” He paused as if he was remembering the past. After a moment he exhaled. “Bein’ owned by somebody is a hard life. My mamma is jest a little picture in my mind ’cause I got sold off when I was ’bout the age of Big Mike’s youngest. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout my pappy.”

  Pain radiated through the words. Dante thought of his own mother and father and how he would have felt as a boy to be separated from them. “But your life was good at Cottonwood, wasn’t it?”

  Saul nodded. “Might say that. Leastways, none of mine ever got sold, but others did. When we first heared that Mr. Lincoln wanted to free us, we all talked ’bout where we’d go and what we’d do. Oh, we made big plans, but they warn’t no use. Cain’t go nowhere without money, and we didn’t have none. Just had each other. Now Abraham gwine find out he ain’t got what he wanted.”

  Dante searched for some words of comfort, but nothing came to mind. “Saul, I know how you must feel, but we’ll get through this.”

  Saul stared at him with tortured eyes. He took a deep breath. “You a good man, Mistuh Dante, but I ’spects you cain’t know how I feels. Only a man what’s been owned by somebody can understand.”

  Saul turned and walked back into his home. “God,” Dante whispered, “watch over this family. Comfort them during this awful time.”

  A shout from the cabin jerked Dante’s attention back to the people inside.

  “No! No! No!” Abraham’s voice cried out.

  Dante stepped off the porch and stared at the soft light coming from his cabin. Inside, Savannah waited. He didn’t want to see her right now, and she probably didn’t want to see him either. It would be better for them to be apart for a while.

  Without glancing at the cabin again, he strode toward the barn. He needed time to think.

  Twelve

  Savannah sat at the kitchen table, holding a book she’d brought from Aunt Jane’s, but she couldn’t keep her mind on the words. Dante had left two hours ago to tell Abraham about Hattie, but he hadn’t returned. Loneliness washed over her, and she wished he would come back.

  She glanced around the cabin where she’d lived for the last four months. With Aunt Jane’s familiar belongings scattered about, it had begun to feel like home—hers and Dante’s.

  She touched the surface of the oak table that had once belonged to her grandmother and remembered the times she and Aunt Jane had shared together there. Across the room, the elegant sideboard Aunt Jane’s husband had given her before the war stood against the wall. Most of the other furnishings from the Willow Bend house were stored in an empty cabin, but she’d insisted they find room for these. They held many memories for her.

  With a sigh, she closed the book and stood. Pulling her shawl from around her shoulders, she hung it on the back of the chair and checked Dante’s supper on the back of the stove.

  The squirrel stew still simmered in the pot, but it was going to be ruined if he didn’t come soon. The memory of his sad face flickered in her mind, and she shivered. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. If he would only come back, she would apologize.

  A noise from the front porch caught her attention, and she turned. Dante entered the cabin. Relief flowed through her, but she restrained herself from throwing her arms around him. Instead, she clutched at her apron and gathered the material into puckered balls in her hands.

  She tried to smile. “I was concerned about you. Where have you been?”

  He took off his coat and hung it on the peg. “After I told Saul about Hattie, I went out to the barn. I had a lot of thinking to do.”

  Her heart pounded, and she struggled to remain calm. “About what?”

  “About the war and how it’s destroyed so many lives.”

  She took a step toward him. “We can’t do anything about that.”

  He strode toward her and stopped within inches. His clutched fists dangled at his sides. “But I want to do something. I want to help the people we’ve brought to Cottonwood, and I grieve for all those who are left drifting without anything—like all those people at Crossroads. They have families, and they just want to be happy. Why can’t they?”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I don’t know, Dante. Attitudes in the South may not change in our lifetime. All we can do is try to make a difference where we are.” She stared up into his face, and her heart longed to bring some comfort to him. “You’re a good man. You’ve brought life back to Cottonwood. It’s not what it was, but if we work together, we can make it better than before.”

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You still want to do that?”

  She frowned. “Of course I do. Did you think I’d changed my mind?”

  “I thought you might regret telling me you loved me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because of the way I spoke to you earlier. Do you hate me, Savannah?” His dark eyes burned like coals.

  She shoo
k her head. “I don’t hate you.”

  His eyes softened, and his gaze traveled over her face. “I’m sorry for what I said. I understand how you feel about Jonathan. He’s been your friend for years. I’ve never had a friend like that. I envy you.”

  She smiled. “Don’t envy my friendship with Jonathan. I’ve thought about what you said, and I’m sure you’re right. The old Jonathan never would have killed anybody, but the man now living at Oak Hill very well could.”

  He inched closer. “Maybe envy isn’t the right word. Maybe I’m jealous of him because I love you so much.”

  She tilted her head and studied his face. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek with her hand. “I love you, too.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you sorry about that?”

  She stroked his face again and shook her head. “No, why would you think that?”

  He reached up, took hold of her hand, and brought it to his mouth. His warm lips grazed the palm of her hand. “Because you’re so young and beautiful, and I’m ten years older than you. I’m an Italian and an outsider here. I’m different from all the people you’ve known all your life.”

  Her stomach fluttered at his whispered words. “Yes, you are, and I thank God for that.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Maybe. . .”

  They jumped in alarm at the sound of someone pounding on the door.

  “Mistuh Dante! Mistuh Dante! You in there?”

  Dante whirled and ran to the door with Savannah right behind. She stared over his shoulder at Saul, who stood on the front porch.

  “Saul, what’s the matter?” Dante demanded.

  Tears flowed down Saul’s face. “Abraham done went crazy, Mistuh Dante. He kept saying he gwine take him a horse and go find those men what killed Hattie. I tole him he be a thief if’n he took yo’ horse, but he did it. He done took my squirrel rifle and gone. What we gwine do, Mistuh Dante?”

  Dante pulled the shaking man into the house and closed the door. “Calm down, Saul. You say Abraham took a horse and went after the men who killed Hattie?”