Jesselynn took Thaddeus’s hand and leaned down to whisper. “Now, you have to sit still in church and no talking. You understand?”
His lower lip came out, and Jesselynn sighed. “Thaddeus Joshua Highwood, you don’t want to embarrass us, do you?”
He cocked his head, question marks shooting from his eyes.
“What emb’rass mean?”
She swung him up to ride on her hip. “It means make us look bad. You can be such a good boy. Please?” She tickled his ribs with one finger.
“I be good.” He squirmed and giggled, then gave her a hug and a kiss.
She hugged him back and set him down to walk up the three stairs. Aunt Agatha led the way, greeting the man at the door.
“We’re travelin’ through and so appreciate a house of worship. Your churchbell made me think of home.” With the quaver on the end of her words, the man patted her hand and gestured toward the doors to the sanctuary. “Here, I think there’s room enough for y’all in this back pew.”
While some folks turned to see who was coming in, most kept their attention forward, where a man walked to the center and raised his black hymnbook. “Welcome, friends. We’ll open this morning with hymn number 265, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.’ ” He nodded to the woman at the piano, and she commenced to play. “Let us stand.”
As the music filled the church, Jesselynn gazed around the congregation, hoping to see the sheriff and wishing she knew what the judge looked like in case he was in attendance. How could she convince them to agree with her scheme?
Lord, you know the desires of our hearts. We don’t ask for anything but justice. Please set Daniel free. This is the only plan I could come up with, but if you have something better, so be it.
When the minister stood behind the pulpit, Thaddeus shook her arm. “Sit on your lap?”
Jesselynn helped him up, and he snuggled against her chest. She stroked his back with one hand and tried to concentrate on what the preacher was saying. But all she could think of was Daniel.
Her mother would have been disappointed had she known of Jesselynn’s worrying. “Take it to the Lord, and leave it in His hands.” Jesselynn could hear her dead mother talking more easily than she could the preacher. “Why, frettin’ can’t even change the color of one hair on your head. God has big hands and broad shoulders. Let Him carry your burdens.”
You made it sound so easy, Mother, and it’s not. Daniel is my responsibility, and he is in jail.
She glanced over at Meshach. He was nodding in agreement with the preacher. Sammy slumbered in Ophelia’s lap. Jane Ellen kept her fingers busy, pleating the fabric of her skirt. Aunt Agatha jerked, an obvious reaction to falling asleep.
The minister droned on. When he finally reached the amen, the congregation stirred and stood for the final hymn. Jesselynn saw the sheriff several pews ahead of them and off to the other side of the room, right on the aisle. She handed a sleepy-eyed boy to Jane Ellen, and as soon as the people began to move, she darted out the side aisle and headed for the back. She had to talk with the sheriff.
She caught up with him as he stepped down the last step and settled his hat back on his head. “Sheriff.” When he didn’t respond, she leaped the steps and raised her voice. “Sheriff!” She’d caught up with him by the time he turned. “Can I talk with you a minute?”
“I guess so. What do you need?”
“I need Daniel out of your jailhouse, but I’d like to talk with you about an idea I had.”
“Well, son, I need to get over and relieve my deputy.” He raised his hand to stop her before she got the words out. “No, it’s not Rudy. I wouldn’t leave him in charge again, not with your boy in there.”
Jesselynn let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Can we talk and walk?”
“Let’s have it.”
Jesselynn told him her idea of switching the two young black men. “It would show that he was mistaken, don’t you see?”
“I’m not blind, son.”
“Oh, sorry.”
He rubbed his chin with one finger. “You know, that might work, but I’d have to talk it over with the judge first. We brought your boy a basin and water so he could wash. His eye is lookin’ some better.”
Jesselynn wished he would quit referring to Daniel as her “boy,” but wisely she kept her mouth shut. She shoved her hands into her pockets and kept pace with the sheriff. “Thank you, sir. Would it be all right if I talked with Daniel some?”
“Don’t know why not.” He opened the door and led the way in. After dismissing the deputy, he took the keys and, unlocking Daniel’s cell, stepped back to let her go in. “Call when you’re ready.”
Jesselynn stood at the bars watching Daniel, not saying anything. He seemed to be asleep on the cot. His face did look better, but overall he appeared to have lost twenty pounds and shrunk in inches, as if caving in on himself. Even if he hadn’t eaten, she figured the look had nothing to do with his body but all with his mind. She’d seen a wild animal caught in a trap look the same back home.
If they didn’t lynch him first, Daniel would die in here. He’d never have his freedom.
“Daniel?”
“Marse Jesse, you done come to set me free?” He rolled to his feet in one motion and flew to the bars.
“I wish.” She wanted to catch his face before it hit the floor. “Now, Daniel, don’t take on so. We got a good idea goin’ if the judge will go along with us.”
“Is de judge a good man?”
Jesselynn shrugged. “We’ve been prayin’ so. The sheriff seems hopeful.”
“Why don’ he let me go?” Daniel gripped the bars till the tendons in his arms stood out. “I din’t do nothin’ wrong.”
“I know that.” If only she could take him in her arms and hug the life back into him. She touched the side of his face near his eye. “This is lookin’ better.”
“I can see outa it, leastways. Thought I was a goner for sure last night. I prayed de Lawd take me home, but I’s still here.”
“I know. But you go ahead and rest up, ‘cause when we get you out of here, we’ll be hittin’ the trail hard. Benjamin said you just wanted a night without guard duty.” She hoped this would bring a smile, but Daniel just shook his head. “I takes all de nights if’n I gets outa here. Why God do dis to me?”
“And tribulation worketh patience . . .” She could hear her mother’s voice reciting the verses she’d committed to memory over the years. She repeated the verse for Daniel. “I don’t know why God allowed this, but that’s what the Word says, so we’ll just get through this. And we’ll all be more patient because of it.” She kept herself from shuddering at the word tribulation. Even the sound of it dragged up bad feelings.
“I tries, Marse Jesse. I tries.” A tear seeped from under the swollen eyelid.
“I better go so we can get back to camp. Everyone sends you love.” She patted his shoulder. If only she could think of something really heartening to cheer him, but the snores of a drunk in the next cell drove all encouraging words right out of her mind. If she didn’t get out of there pretty quick, she’d be crying right along with Daniel.
She sniffed and headed for the door. “I’m ready,” she called and threw a smile over her shoulder to the young black man, who stood leaning his forehead against the bars, his hands clamped so tightly they looked as if they could bend iron.
God, please help him. Help us. Please. Her feet seemed to weigh twenty pounds each as she left the jailhouse. Meshach had driven the wagon up to the hitching post, so she had to summon an instant smile. Letting Thaddeus know how bad things were was unnecessary. She didn’t need two crying little boys.
“Where’s Daniel?” Thaddeus greeted her with a frown. “He go with us.”
“Soon, Thaddeus, soon.”
“Why not now?”
“Ah . . .” She looked to Meshach for an answer.
“Hey, Thaddeus, look what I got.” From the rear of the wagon, Jane Ellen held out her closed f
ist.
When Thaddeus scrambled back to see what she held, Jesselynn breathed a sigh of relief. “Bless you, girl,” she said only loud enough for Meshach’s ears. He shot her a smile as he hupped the horses and headed the wagon out of town.
Now all they had to do was get through until tomorrow.
Dawn came to eyes bleary from lack of sleep.
“Where’s Meshach?” Jesselynn asked, stumbling over a rock on her way to the already leaping fire.
“Grazin’ de horses.” Ophelia used her apron to lift a boiling pot off the cast-iron tripod.
Jesselynn looked over to see that Benjamin still lay wrapped in his quilt and deerskin. He’d stood the last watch. The boys and Aunt Agatha had yet to make an appearance, for which Jesselynn was grateful. Let those who could sleep do so. Nightmares, the first in a while, had ridden her all night.
“Here.” Ophelia handed her a cup of steaming coffee.
“Thank you. Reckon I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You make your own coffee, dat’s what.” Ophelia straightened and kneaded her back with both fists. “Breakfast ready soon as de biscuits done.” Gravy bubbled gently in one frying pan, and smoked venison simmered in another.
What Jesselynn wouldn’t give for two eggs fried till the centers ran only slightly when stabbed with a piece of toast or biscuit, bacon or ham or sausage fried just right, and syrup to drizzle over pancakes so light they could float right off the plate.
The kind of breakfast Lucinda served nearly every morning during their life at Twin Oaks.
Sometimes Jesselynn thought she’d lived another life back then, one with no connection to the one she was living now.
“Think I’ll get a letter written while I wait. Anything you want me to tell Lucinda or the girls?”
Ophelia patted her rounding belly. “You can tell dem ‘bout dis little one. Dat make Lucinda pleased as punch.” Ophelia looked down, shaking her head ever so slightly. “Lucinda do love de babies. You think maybe when we gets to Oregon, we could write Lucinda to come too?”
“She’d never leave Twin Oaks, not when she stayed on after it burned to the ground.”
“You never know.”
“You just spoke a mouthful of truth. Who’d ever have thought we’d be in a wagon almost to Kansas on our way to Oregon?” Jesselynn stretched her arms over her head and yawned fit to crack her jaw. Since she didn’t really expect an answer, she turned and approached the wagon, treading lightly so as not to wake those still sleeping. Once she had her writing case in hand, she returned to the fire, grateful for its warmth in the wind that teased her hat, the brim so limp it flopped in response. She drew her coat closer around her middle and took a seat on a hunk of oak trunk Meshach had carted along since they left the caves. Later on they might need it for firewood, but in the meantime it made for good sitting.
After sharpening her turkey-quill pen she wrote swiftly, first to Lucinda, then to Sergeant White, and finally to her sisters in Richmond. Once in a while she flipped back through her journal to keep track of what all had happened. She didn’t mention to Lucinda that Daniel was in jail. No sense bringing her more worry, especially since the letters might be mailed before they knew the outcome.
Sergeant White would understand her consternation, however. When she thought of the Confederate soldier they’d nursed back to health, his smiling face came to mind. Especially the smile he had reserved for her once he realized she was not the young man she portrayed. He’d seen behind the act, but had he touched her heart more deeply than a friend? While sometimes she thought so, other times she just wondered. Perhaps there would be a letter when they reached Independence. After all, he had said he’d catch up with them.
She sighed as she signed her name with a flourish. The one to her sisters took the longest.
Why is it that God seems to allow more trials, in this case an actual one, with judge and all? He promised the Israelites that they would pass through to the Promised Land. I so thought He meant the same for us. While Meshach seems to have no doubt that we will journey on with all of our band intact, I am still struggling with trusting a God who has taken so many from me, and so much. I long for Twin Oaks and life as it used to be. Always and always, the war has destroyed the crops, the land, and the people. Are these the years of the locust? Will He really restore us as though this has never been?
My eternal thanks will be raised for Meshach, who took me in hand and made me see that life without our Lord is nothing but a long, dark, miserable existence. I am learning to walk with Him, keeping the picture of our mother always as my example. Sometimes, like now with Daniel in jail, I say with my teeth clenched, I will trust Him. I will praise His holy name. A sacrifice of praise, the psalmist calls it, and for me that truly describes what I must do. The black demon reaches out for me, but when I praise our God’s holy name, the sun comes out and warms me again. Thank you, heavenly Father.
She continued on with the news of how Thaddeus was talking and little Sammy was outgrowing his clothes. She told how Aunt Agatha sewed for one and all as she rocked her way across the countryside.
You should see her. We have her rocking chair fitted just so between the boxes and supplies, and her needle flies while her chair rocks the miles away. She tells stories to the young’uns and is teaching Thaddeus his numbers and letters. Jane Ellen has appointed herself as Aunt Agatha’s protégée and is learning womanly things as the wagon bumps along.
The two foals don’t seem harmed by the travel, but we have to stop to let them graze and rest more often than we normally would. I long for the day when we can travel during daylight instead of darkness. As long as we make it to Independence without a brush with the Quantrill Raiders, I will—no I must—trust our God for His protection. I must. I must.
Your loving sister,
Jesselynn
P.S. As I said before, send any correspondence to the post office in Independence, Missouri. We will be waiting there to gather our supplies and sign on with a wagon train going west to Oregon. I have a feeling we really have no idea what we will encounter on our journey, but I will make sure we are as prepared as humanly possible. May our God and Father bless and keep thee. JH
“You wants breakfast now?” Ophelia held out a plate of steaming food.
“Thank you.” Jesselynn closed her writing case and set it beside her. “That smells heavenly.” She sniffed again and smiled at the fragrance. “Your biscuits give Lucinda’s a real challenge. I’d hate to have to judge them in a contest.”
Ophelia smiled and ducked her head. “Thank you, Marse.” The glint in her eyes told far more than her smile. Comparing her biscuits was a compliment akin to the Father’s “well done.”
While she ate, Jesselynn ruminated on the plan to substitute Benjamin for Daniel and show that the man in town hadn’t really seen either one of them. Something about it dug down in her soul like a tick on a feeding frenzy. But short of breaking Daniel out and streaking across the countryside, nothing came to mind. When she closed her eyes, she could remember one of the dreams that had plagued her the last two nights. She saw Daniel swinging at the end of a rope.
The stark fear in his eyes when she had visited him in the jail raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
No matter, she’d have to wait until she could ride into town and talk with the sheriff, hoping he’d been able to speak with the judge.
When Meshach sat down beside her with his full plate, she glanced at him in time to see the same weary look she felt.
“You didn’t sleep either?”
He shook his head. “Prayin’ more important den sleepin’.” He cut into his gravy-laden biscuit with his fork. “I asked de Lawd for a sign, but I ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Dis here’s one of de times we got to walk by faith.”
Jesselynn felt a shiver race up her back. Talking about walking by faith and doing it were two entirely different things. Especially when a young man’s life hung in the balance.
“Surely
you don’t believe it is God’s will for Daniel to hang for something he didn’t do?”
Meshach shook his head. “Not God’s will, but sometimes He lets folks do bad things. Daniel know who his Savior be, and heaven be home for us all, ‘specially poor black men and women.”
“Meshach, don’t talk that way. We got to get Daniel out of there.”
“I knows, but I cain’t say how. Be God’s grace for sure.”
Jesselynn felt like shaking the big man. Don’t you dare give up! We can’t let them hang him. But she kept the thoughts to herself, knowing that Ophelia might go into one of her rantings if she heard them. Jesselynn stared at the congealed gravy left on her plate. She’d thought of mopping it up with another biscuit, but her stomach rolled over at the notion. Instead, she scraped the remainder into the fire and dropped her utensils into the pot of simmering water and soap.
“I’ll go on and wash up.” Leastways then she could leave camp and be by herself. Somehow she argued with God better when it was just the two of them. But arguing and pleading seemed to do no good, and when she returned to camp, she was no nearer a solution than before.
“I believe we should all go into town with you for the trial.” Aunt Agatha delivered her pronouncement as if she were the judge.
Jesselynn looked toward the two little boys with Jane Ellen as their overseer. She had taken to instructing them on table manners, having recently learned them herself from Aunt Agatha.
“No, Sammy, use your spoon.” Thaddeus’s command overrode Jesselynn’s tangled thoughts. “See, like this.” He demonstrated, ushering biscuit and gravy to his mouth without spilling, to the applause of Jane Ellen.
Sammy giggled, squirmed, and stuck his forefinger in his mouth—after swiping it through the gravy.
When Thaddeus rolled his eyes in perfect mimic of Aunt Agatha, Jesselynn choked on her swig of coffee, sending splatters to sizzle in the flames.
Jane Ellen took over ferrying food to Sammy’s mouth, which opened and closed obediently. In the months he’d been with them, the grinning black baby had come a long way from a scrawny, squalling orphan found on a Kentucky hillside.
A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy Page 15