“I’m heading back to camp then, but I’ll be in town as soon as I can get there. Just do what they tell you so they have no call to whip you.”
“Dey don’ need no call, Marse. Dey gonna whip dis poor nigger sure as de sun rise.”
Lord, let it only be a whipping. Please, God, not a hanging.
“We’ll pray that not be so.”
“Hey, you, leave that boy alone.”
At the jerk on the rope that caused Daniel to stumble and nearly go down, Jesselynn dropped back. When they reached the main road, she turned east as they turned west. Digging her heels into the mule’s ribs, she slapped him with the reins too. “Hup, Roman, come on.”
A few minutes that seemed like hours later, she tore into camp and threw herself off the mule’s back before he came to a skidding stop. “They’ve got Daniel.” She tried to draw a breath and speak at the same time but only succeeded in making herself cough.
“Who got Daniel?” Meshach thumped her on the back to help her breathe.
“A deputy. Someone said Daniel was with a man who shot the owner of the store. They hung that man this afternoon in the center of town.” Jesselynn took the cup of water Jane Ellen handed her and guzzled it, water dripping unnoticed down her chin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed the cup back. “Thanks.” Turning to Meshach, she closed her eyes for a moment to get the facts straight. “They’ll hang him for certain if we don’t do something and do it fast.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out. If she didn’t calm down, she’d be worthless. “He says his papers are in your Bible. You get those, and I’ll get Daddy’s journal. That should prove who we are.”
“We take de wagon? Dey see we be travelin’.”
“Lawd, keep our Daniel safe.” Ophelia clasped her hands to her bosom and looked heavenward. Sammy, clinging to her skirt, set to whimpering, which brought out a quivering lower lip on Thaddeus.
“Here, let me take them babies.” Jane Ellen reached for Sammy and, after settling him on her hip, took Thaddeus’s hand. “We’ll go look for the ducks.”
“You want I should go too?” Aunt Agatha looked over her spectacles. “Might lend a note of propriety. I can show letters and things from Springfield. There are dates and such on them.”
Jesselynn wrinkled her brow in thought. “I think not at the moment.” The last thing she wanted to do was subject the rest of the family to any fracas in town. “Just pray that most of the folks have already gone home. There surely was a crowd there for the hangin’. You’da thought a circus came to town, such an air of jollity.” The thought still made her stomach clench. Even worse, she knew there wouldn’t be a trial and a formal hanging for a black boy like Daniel. Some group of men would just take him out to a tree or use the beam at the livery and string him up.
“All right, let’s harness up Roman and Chess. Benjamin, you make sure the rest of the horses are well grazed and watered. We might be leavin’ in a hurry. Ophelia, have supper ready and everything else packed up.” She glanced around the camp. No matter what, they were pushing out as soon as they had Daniel in tow.
She glanced over her shoulder as they left the camp. Aunt Agatha was sitting in her rocker, both boys in her lap while Jane Ellen and Ophelia were making biscuits for supper and some to harden for eating later on the trail. They looked so peaceful, as if no one was worried sick about Daniel, but she knew they were. Ophelia might be singing, but her songs were always prayers for the good Lord’s intervention in their lives.
Once in town she directed Meshach to the jail, where they tied up the team in the rear so no one would get too interested in the horse. Stepping down, they heard a psst.
“Marse Jesse, over here.” Daniel, one eye swollen closed and lower lip thick and split, waved at them from the barred window of the jail.
“How bad off are you?” Jesselynn stepped close so they could whisper.
“Dey ask me ‘bout dat man dey hung, and I don know nothin’ ‘bout him. Dey says I lyin’ and den dey hit me. Not too bad. Sheriff come in and make dem stop.”
Jesselynn breathed a sigh of relief. While the deputy had already made up his mind, perhaps the sheriff was a man of integrity. And the judge, if they could meet with him.
“I’m sorry, Daniel, I should never have brought you to town with me.”
“You don’t know ‘bout dis here man either.”
“I know, but—“ Jesselynn stopped. Crying over spilt milk never did anyone any good. “You just sit down and rest. We’ll take care of this.” She caught a nod from Meshach, and the two of them headed for the front door of the building. A sign above the heavy wooden door read SHERIFF in letters large enough to be seen from a distance. When they pushed it open, the deputy she’d encountered earlier sat behind the wooden desk drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar.
“I’d like to speak with the sheriff.” Jesselynn kept her voice even and polite, in spite of an urge to have Meshach pick the man up and throw him through the window, bars and all.
“He ain’t here.”
“I can see that. Where can I find him?”
“At home. He don’t like to be disturbed when he’s eatin’ his supper.” He waved the cigar for emphasis.
Jesselynn counted to five. Ten would take too much time and effort. “And where might his home be?”
“He’ll be back in an hour or so. Thataway I can go eat.”
Meshach shifted from one foot to the other. Jesselynn could feel his anger like something alive in the room.
The deputy could sense it too. Eyes slit, he shifted his gaze from one guest to the other. “I wouldn’t want to hurry him meself.” Slowly he lowered his boots to the floor and sat up straight, his elbows resting on the desk as if to prove his nonchalance.
“Since I heard the dead man had a trial, is there a judge in town?”
“Left on the stage yesterday.”
Jesselynn counted again. Why did everything seem to be against them?
The gleam in the deputy’s eye said he was enjoying their frustration. He’s most likely the kind of man who pulled legs off live frogs when he was young. Thinks no more of treating black boys the same.
“Thank you for your information. Now where did you say the sheriff lived?”
“I din’t.”
Meshach took a step forward and leaned toward the desk. His fists looked powerful enough to drop a horse with one blow.
“Ah, the sheriff lives two blocks over and three down, on Hawthorne. White house with green shutters.” The deputy pointed toward the west.
As they turned to leave, he added, “Don’t you go worryin’ ‘bout that nigger back there. After tomorrow there won’t be no more problem.”
Meshach pulled the door closed behind him with a thud big enough to shake the boards beneath their feet. “I surely do hopes the sheriff be a better man than that ‘un.”
“Me too, Meshach, me too. Tryin’ to figure out what he meant about no more problem scares me clear to Sunday.”
“Dis ‘bout as bad as Daniel in de lions’ den.”
“Worse. Men can be meaner than lions any day.” Together they followed the directions to the sheriff’s house, then sat down to wait, leaning against the picket fence that fronted the street.
Meshach pulled up a blade of grass and chewed the tender stem.
Jesselynn knew from his quiet that he was praying. While she tried to put the entire mess into the Lord’s strong hands, pictures of the deputy dragging Daniel at the end of the rope intruded. And fears of Daniel dangling from the end of a rope made her stomach roil and her blood boil. Lord, surely you wouldn’t let him come so far to be strung up for something he didn’t do. We have so far to go, yet we’re close to being free too.
She glanced sideways to see Meshach with his head back against the fence, his eyes closed, and wearing a slight smile as though he was lost in a pleasant dream. Surely he was praying, not sleeping. She watched for any sign of awareness. A bee buzzed over his head and was gone.
Children shouted from a yard somewhere nearby. A baby cried and stopped in that instant that said someone had come for him.
Jesselynn wished someone would come for her. All this was just too much. God, what do you expect of me? I can’t keep on taking care of all these people, and short of breaking Daniel out of the jail, I don’t know what to do.
She felt like shaking her fist. “He’s innocent,” she whispered.
“I know dat, and you know dat. Now we just wait ‘till de sheriff know dat too.” Meshach’s gentle answer smoothed over her restlessness like a loving hand.
Jesselynn sighed. “I sure hope that sheriff is enjoying his supper.”
When they heard the front door click closed behind them, they both got to their feet and turned to greet a man, nearly as tall as Meshach, settling his hat over a bald spot pushing up through wisps of gray hair. Furry eyebrows nearly met over the bridge of a nose that had encountered one too many fists.
“Good evening, Sheriff.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was waiting. Why didn’t you come to the door?”
“Ah, your deputy said you didn’t like to be disturbed during supper.”
The sheriff shook his head. “That Rudy, I’d soon as fire him as keep him.” He stopped at the gate. “So what can I do for you?”
“You can release my friend, Daniel, who looks plenty worse than the last time I saw him. I am Jesse Highwood from Midway, Kentucky, and Daniel used to be one of my father’s slaves until he was given his manumission papers before we started west.”
“What is bringing you this way?”
“We got burned out, so decided that Oregon might be a good place to start over.”
“And your father?”
“Killed in the war. I’m the oldest remaining son, and all I want is to get my people west. Daniel was with us in Springfield up until three days ago when we started out. No way could he have been here.”
“You got any papers to back all this up?”
Jesselynn pulled Daniel’s manumission papers from her pocket. “This here and more in the wagon.”
“Come on, then. Let’s go on back and study this situation. We have a man who swears your Daniel was with Gardner when he shot and killed Avery Hopkins.”
“When was he killed?”
“’Bout dusk a week ago Friday.”
“And this man has seen Daniel today?”
“Yup. Says he’s the one.”
Jesselynn walked between the two men back to the jail. Surely he believed her. It certainly seemed so.
After he dismissed the deputy, the sheriff took the chair. “I have one question for you, young man. Why did your boy run today?”
“Because someone shouted at him and came after him. If you were young and black, and the white crowd was in a hangin’ mood, wouldn’t you run?”
“Guess I’d have to say that I would.”
Jesselynn let him think for a moment. The silence hung heavy in the room. “So how about if we take Daniel on back to camp with us and get on the road?”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.”
She saw Meshach’s hands clench at his side. “Why not, sir?”
“Because I’m going to have to defer to the judge on this. I’ve heard both sides, and while what you say makes good sense, the man who identified Daniel is a highly respected citizen of our town. If I just let this boy go, there’ll be all kinds of devil to pay. I have to follow the law, and the law says suspects have to be proven guilty.”
“But we weren’t anywhere near here a week ago.”
“So you say. It don’t have to take that long to get here from Springfield.” He looked up at her, his gaze penetrating. “Can you prove your boy was in Springfield with you at that time?”
Jesselynn turned to look up at Meshach, who gave a barely perceptible shrug. How, how can I prove he was there? The question ricocheted through her mind. She felt like melting into a puddle on the floor. “No, I don’t guess that I can. I have three other adults that will swear he was with us, but no concrete proof.” She thought of her journal. Had she written Daniel’s name in during the Springfield stay? Again a no dragged her down further.
“So what happens now?”
“I keep him here in jail until the judge returns in two days, and then we go before him with all the information. He hears both sides and will make a decision. I abide by whatever decision he makes.”
“And if he goes with your man’s opinion?”
“Then most likely your boy will hang.”
WASHINGTON
“Yes, suh.” The maid standing in the doorway failed to smile.
Do we look that disreputable? Louisa thought about checking her clothing to make sure no rents showed. But she knew that wasn’t so. She’d brushed and ironed her blue traveling outfit herself.
“Is my cousin, Dr. Logan, at home?” Zachary’s voice carried just the correct amount of arrogance, in spite of the all-too-visible scars.
“Yes, suh. Who shall I say is callin’?” The woman didn’t move from her position as doorkeeper.
“Zachary Highwood and Miss Louisa Highwood.” He flashed her a smile that made the eye patch look only more dashing.
She started to shut the door, paused, and added. “I be right back.”
“And leave us standin’ on the street?” The shock in his voice apparently made her rethink her dilemma. With a frown, she stepped back and indicated they should enter.
“I send a man for your trunk.” She pointed through a narrow archway. “You may wait in there.” With that and a flurry of her skirt, she hastened down a walnut-lined hall.
The room they entered looked more like the waiting room of a doctor’s office than a front parlor. Chairs and sofas lined the walls, and creamy camellias dropped petals on a hexagonal table with feet swept up in a curl. Oil paintings of rivers and trees, a house and field, horses and hounds hung on the walls. A closed door bore a gold sign reading OFFICE.
They had not been shown to the family quarters.
Louisa picked up a magazine and flipped through it, grimacing at the political cartoons. If this was any indication of their cousin’s views on the war, she knew he and Zachary would most likely come to radical disagreement.
The maid returned. “This way.”
Louisa and Zachary exchanged a look of raised eyebrows and slight shrugs.
We got beyond the first gatekeeper, she thought. What will be the next?
A woman with fashionably styled gray hair greeted them with outstretched hands. “Oh, my dears, please forgive Becca’s caution. We’ve had some unsavory visitors in the last months. I am your cousin Annabelle, and I know Arlington will be so sorry to have missed you. He was required at the hospital again, you see. With all our boys—“ She stopped and blinked. “Oh, forgive me, here I go rattling off like some ninny when you must be thirsty, and hungry too, for that matter. Have a seat there. Becca, take his cape and have cook bring us some coffee. Doesn’t that sound good on a chill afternoon like today?” She bustled as she spoke, settling her guests in two chairs by the fire and pulling up another for herself. “Now, you must tell me all about yourselves as I only know hearsay about my husband’s Southern kin.” Even her hands fluttered as she raced on. “You’re from where now?”
“Richmond, Virginia.” Louisa answered quickly before her cousin’s rushing flow of words continued.
“Ah, yes, such a lovely city.”
“I’m sure it has changed since you last saw it.” Visions of the freedmen’s shanties down the streets from stately homes flew through her mind. Even though Richmond was the capital of the South and had never been shelled, the war showed itself in homes falling into disrepair due to the menfolk off fighting and no money to be had for upkeep. The frenzy of government had Richmond by the throat.
“As has Washington. Soldiers everywhere, and if not men, then supplies. Why, we have the hardest time getting tobacco.”
Shame we don’t still have Twin Oaks. We could have brought
you some.
Becca entered and set a silver tray with a silver coffeepot and dainty china cups on the table next to her mistress. A silver salver held a variety of cookies and small cakes.
“Do you take cream or sugar?” Annabelle poured a cup and glanced over at Zachary. At the shake of his head and polite “No thank you,” she handed the cup on the saucer to Becca along with the platter of cookies to take to Zachary. “And you, Louisa?”
“Yes, please.” Louisa refrained from looking at her brother. She could read his mind. What a waste. What a total and absolute waste.
“Do you have any idea when Arlington will be home?” Zachary asked after a sip of coffee.
“Goodness me, no. I never do. We were supposed to attend a ball tonight, but his men always come first.” The last was said with just enough twist to let Louisa know the woman would much rather be at the ball with her husband in tow. The nerve of him, putting wounded and dying soldiers before the enjoyment of his wife!
Since they were not part of the society in Richmond, they were not subjected to routs and parties, to balls and afternoons filled with calling on friends and gossiping. Louisa had watched Carrie Mae and Jefferson pursue a place in the Southern political theater, wanting no part of it herself. She’d rather work at the hospital any day. At least there she could be doing some good.
Now she sipped her coffee and listened to her cousin’s wife rattle on.
“Have you been to Washington before?” Before Zachary could answer, Annabelle continued. “Our city was so beautiful before all those contraband camps sprang up. All those slaves who run away and come up here expectin’ us to support them.”
Zachary set his cup and saucer on the whatnot table next to his chair. “Thank you so much for the delicious coffee, Cousin Annabelle, but we must be going.” He pushed himself erect and tucked his crutch under his arm. “Louisa?”
“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. Becca, bring their things, please. I’ll be sure and tell Arlington that you visited. Is there someplace he can reach you?”
“I’ll send a message around in the morning.” Zachary stooped to let Becca settle his cape about his shoulders.
A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy Page 13