“Yes.” Noel grew thoughtful and finally said, “I wish I had that kind of faith, don’t you, Jemmy? I know God is able to do anything, but somehow I can’t seem to believe in asking for miracles.” He suddenly lost his appetite and put the corn bread down. “I wasn’t afraid of getting killed, but I’m afraid of going to a prison. Why is that, I wonder?”
Jemmy had no answer. She watched Noel’s face, then said, “Don’t guess you’re the fust to git a mite skeered of a jail, Noel.” She hesitated, then added, “Don’t never let yore fears git the best of you. I been a’prayin’ and I’m thinkin’ the good Lord is gonna take keer of you.”
She rose and left abruptly, leaving him to stare after her. She moved about mechanically, then left the hospital before long. The air was still and hot, but she didn’t notice. For a time, she walked the streets, then went to a small stand of oaks that overshadowed the river. It was cooler under the trees, and all afternoon she prayed desperately. She had, in fact, prayed almost constantly since God had first spoken to her, but had felt nothing. Doggedly she kept praying, though more than once she was ready to give up. Finally it grew darker, and she moved away from the river.
For the next two days she struggled, but no plan came to her. Finally on Friday, as she walked wearily toward the spot where she met Bing, bitterness swept over her.
Why did You bring me here, Lord, if I can’t do anything? her heart cried out. She was tired of her masquerade, and doubt had eaten away at her. She knew that at any time Noel could be transferred—that he might even be gone now.
When she met Bing, he saw at once that she was unhappy.
“It don’t look too good, does it, Deborah?” he said quietly. “I guess it’s not going to work.”
Deborah shook her head, saying wearily, “I don’t know what to do, Bing. I’ve done all—”
Suddenly she broke off, and Bing asked sharply, “What is it? You think of something?”
Deborah said slowly, “Bing, I don’t know if it’s of God or just an idea of my own, but something just came to me.” He listened as she told him, then nodded.
“It’s the only shot, Deborah! Let’s do it!”
“If we get caught, Bing, we could be executed for being spies.”
“Can’t hang us but once, can they?” Bing’s eyes glowed, and he said, “How’ll we work it?”
The two of them talked for half an hour; then he left, saying, “I’ll meet you here at three tomorrow.” He was not a man of much patience, and the waiting had worn him thin. Now with action in the making, he was excited, his eyes glittering. “If this nutty thing works, maybe I’ll want to know a little more about this religion stuff.” Then he was gone, and Deborah went to her room. The hard part would be the waiting, but to her surprise, after saying a short prayer, she went to bed and slept like a baby.
“Matron, Jemmy wants to see you.”
Jesse Branch found Matron Huger taking a cup of tea in her office. “Well, send her in, Jesse.” Then she looked up with surprise, for Branch came into the office pushing a wheelchair containing Jemmy.
“Why—what’s wrong, Jemmy?” she exclaimed, getting to her feet. “Did you have an accident?”
Jemmy had a pair of crutches and several packages over her lap. Her left ankle was heavily bandaged, and disgust was in her tone as she answered, “Slipped on the dratted steps! Can’t put no weight on the fool leg.”
“You ought to stay in bed for a few days,” Matron Huger said.
“Mebbe I will iffen it don’t git no better. But I done promised that young feller with both his hands gone I’d bring him some of my plum cake. He’s lookin’ for’ard to it, so I brung it. Long as I’m here, I might as well set and visit with the pore child.”
“That’s sweet of you, Jemmy, but how can you get up the stairs?”
“Oh, that’s took keer of.” Jemmy nodded. “I brung my nephew to haul me around. I brung my crutches, and he kin haul me up them stairs. He a triflin’ young buck. Not too bright, but he’s stout. The guard, he wouldn’t let him in the gate without you give him a permit.”
“Well, I think you should stay off that leg, Jemmy. As a matter of fact, that’s an order.” The matron’s face broke into a fond smile. “You can take the cake up, but I insist you stay in bed for a day or two.”
“Yes’um, I reckon as how I will.” She waited until Matron Huger wrote out a pass and handed it to Branch.
“Take that to the gate, Jesse,” Matron said, then added, “It’s just a permit for this one night, Jemmy. Now you take care of yourself. We couldn’t do without you around here.”
“Shore, and thank ye, Matron.”
Branch took the pass to the gate and soon returned, saying as Bing took his place behind the wheelchair, “Now hang on to that pass. All the guards change at seven o’clock, and you’ll need it to get out of the gates.”
“Thanks.”
Bing stuck the slip into his pocket, and Jemmy demanded, “Well, what are you waiting for, you big ox? Git me up them stairs!”
“Aw, don’t be hollering at me, Auntie,” Bing whined. But he wheeled her to the stairs, where a guard asked, “What’s wrong, Jemmy?”
“Sprainged my dratted ankle, George,” Jemmy said.
“Too bad. Better stay off it for a few days.”
Bing pushed the chair through the door, then picked it up and walked up the stairs with no effort. “You’re very strong,” she said. When they got to the top of the stairs, she cautioned him, “Stay away from Noel. He might give us away if he sees you.”
“Sure.” He pushed her into the ward, and she got onto the crutches, then swung herself inside as Bing sat down to wait, well out of Noel’s view. Most of the men she passed greeted her, asking about her leg, and she spoke to them cheerfully.
Noel got to his feet, concern on his face. She told her story, then said, “I got a plum cake for pore Andy. Come on, let’s you and me try to cheer him up.”
It was a long visit, and Bing sat alone, his nerves on edge, watching as Deborah moved about the ward speaking to the men. The time ran slowly, and he wished he could pull the sun down by brute force to bring on the night.
Finally the room grew dark, and most of the men started going to bed. A few of those with less serious injuries gathered to a section at one end of the room, where a card game took shape.
For another hour Deborah waited, until it was six thirty. She pushed the chair to where she could catch Bing’s eye. He saw her and nodded slightly. She moved then to where Noel was sitting on his cot. He looked up at her with a smile, saying, “You’re staying late tonight, Jemmy.”
Deborah moved her chair as close as she could, noting that one cot next to Noel was occupied, but it was a young soldier who was in such poor condition that he seldom regained consciousness. The other bunk belonged to one of the men who was playing cards. She put out her hand, and when Noel took it in surprise, she said quietly, “Noel, you’re leaving this place.”
Noel’s head moved sharply, and he leaned forward. “What’s that you say, Jemmy?”
“Don’t say anything, and don’t make any sudden moves. As soon as I leave, I want you to go to the bathroom.”
Noel stood absolutely still. His voice low, he asked suddenly, “Who are you?”
For one moment Deborah paused, then said, “It’s Deborah, Noel. Now take this package.” Deborah took the paper sack she’d kept close beside her, and he took it at once, staring at her with shock in his eyes. “Now go to the bathroom. If no one is there, put those clothes on. If someone is there, wait until they leave. When you come out, I’ll be right outside.”
“I’ll never get down the stairs—or out the gate!”
“Noel, the clothes are like the ones I wear, a dress and a bonnet and a pair of shoes. There’s a bandage, too. Put it on your ankle. Now listen. When you come out of the bathroom, take these crutches and go straight to the stairs. There’s a man there. You know him, but don’t say anything to him.” She hesitated, then added, �
��It’s your brother Bing.” Noel’s head snapped back and he opened his mouth, but Deborah said sharply, “Don’t say anything! Pull the bonnet over your eyes and keep your head down. Pretend to be sick. Bing will take you past the guards and out the gate.”
“But—what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me! Now are you ready?”
“Yes!”
“Do it, then!”
Noel got up and walked to the bathroom, keeping the sack close to his body. He found nobody inside and did as the woman had said. It took only a few seconds, and he stepped outside to find her waiting. She handed him the crutches, whispering, “Now go to Bing!”
Noel awkwardly swung himself down the aisle. One of the men said, “Good night, Jemmy,” and he nodded, saying in a muffled voice, “Good night.” Then he was past the beds. When he looked up, he saw Bing standing there with the chair. He leaned the crutches against the wall and fell into the wheelchair.
Bing stepped behind the chair and shoved it through the door. He reversed the chair and began backing down the stairs. When Noel said, “Bing—!” he said in a tense voice, “No time for talk. Keep your head down. You’re sick. I’ll do all the talkin’!”
They reached the bottom of the stairs. Bing paused, took a deep breath, then opened the door and shoved the chair out. The guard named George looked at them, then said, “Long visit, Jemmy.” Then he looked closer. “Something wrong?”
Bing said quickly, “She’s poorly. I think this trip was too much for her.”
The guard stood there, looking down at the form in the wheelchair. He waited so long that Bing let his hand drop to his waist, where he had a .44 beneath his coat.
“Better get her home,” George finally said. “Hope you feel better tomorrow, Jemmy.”
“I’ll see to her,” Bing said quickly and moved down the hall. There was a guard at the outside door, but he only nodded at the two and continued his argument with one of the orderlies. As they moved outside, Bing said, “Good enough. Now the gate.”
The guard at the gate was perched on a chair, leaning back against the fence. He got up and took the passes that Bing handed him. It was dark, with only the pale glow of a single lantern, and he peered at them for a long time. Then he stuck one in his pocket, saying, “Have to take yours up, fellow.” He looked down, then handed the other pass toward the still form. “Here you go, Jemmy. How’s the leg?”
“All right,” Noel mumbled.
“How’s that?” The guard frowned and leaned down. “You all right?”
“She’s had a bad spell,” Bing said. “I’ve got to get her home. She shouldn’t have came in the first place!”
The guard still kept his position, bending over the wheelchair. “My wife, she’s had some bad spells. Lemme write you a formula for a toddy she makes up.”
Bing said, “I don’t think—,” but the guard insisted. He fumbled in his vest pocket, found a stub of a pencil, then searched for a piece of paper. He finally used the page of a book he kept beside him, writing slowly and giving advice constantly.
Bing’s nerves were screaming and he longed to dash away, but he knew he had to wait. The next shift of guards came on at seven, and the whole plan centered on that. “You’ll take Noel out in the wheelchair in my place just before seven,” Deborah had said. “Then the new guard will come on, and I’ll walk out like I always do.”
But if the new guard came along and saw what he thought was Jemmy in the wheelchair, he’d know something was wrong when Deborah came out later.
“… so you mix all this, add a jigger of whiskey, and heat it up,” the guard said and, to Bing’s relief, handed over the slip of paper.
“That ort to help. Thanks a lot!” Bing nodded and had to restrain himself from going too fast as he passed through the gates. Forcing himself to walk until they were out of the guard’s line of vision, he wheeled Noel behind a line of bushes, then jerked to a stop.
“Bing! What’s happening?” Noel asked as he got out of the chair. He looked ridiculous in the shapeless dress and floppy bonnet, but he didn’t care. He stood there as Bing explained rapidly, and when he was finished, both of them stared down the lane anxiously, waiting for a glimpse of an old woman.
As soon as Bing had disappeared through the door with Noel, Deborah walked slowly to Noel’s bed and lay down on it, pulling the covers over her head. She had to stay out of sight until seven fifteen, and it was a long wait for her. Once a man came by, paused, and whispered, “Noel? You okay?” She had grunted and he had passed on. Finally she was satisfied that the time was right and lowered the edge of the blanket over her head cautiously. The card game was still going on as she slipped out of the cot. There was no way to conceal herself. If one of the men in the game spotted her, or if one of the men in the cots saw her, the game was up. She walked down the aisle, thankful that the card game was at the far end of the room. The rest of the room was dim, lit only by a single lamp that gave enough light to the orderlies and so the men could find their way to the bathroom.
Once a man snorted and gave a lurch on his cot as Deborah passed, and she stopped dead still, certain she was discovered.
But there was no alarm, and she continued. With a sigh of relief, she moved down the stairs, then got the crutches under her arms and struggled down to the main floor. The guard, a private named Lew who knew her well, exclaimed, “Why, Jemmy, I thought you was gone! George told me you left in a wheelchair!”
“I did, Lew, but I come back. Didn’t he tell you? Guess he forgot—no, come to think of it, he wuz talking to Leon when I come back. Guess he didn’t see me. Good night, Lew.”
“Good night, Jemmy.”
She passed through the next gate, receiving about the same response, then swung on the crutches to the main gate. “Hello, Pete,” she said. “Lemme out, will you? I’m plum tard to death!”
Pete Riley got up and came over to her. “Thought you was sick, Jemmy. They said you left.”
“Did, Pete, but had to go back. I forgot my purse. Didn’t need that ol’ wheelchair noways, ‘cept to get up the stairs.”
“Yeah? Well, lemme see your pass, Jemmy.”
Deborah made a business of looking through the old purse, then said, “Oh, rats! I left the blamed thing upstairs, Pete.” She turned painfully and started back, but he stopped her.
“Oh, never mind, Jemmy. I guess you ain’t dangerous, are you?”
“Plum dangerous, Pete,” she said and cackled as she passed on through the gate.
When he called out, “See you tomorrow, Jemmy,” she made no answer. “Pore ol’ thing’s going batty, I reckon,” Pete muttered, then leaned against the fence trying to get comfortable.
Deborah swung down the lane, and when she turned the corner, two shapes rose in the darkness. “Deborah!” She found herself being embraced. Noel grasped her so hard that he hurt his wound, as well as her. “Deborah! I don’t believe it!”
Deborah stood there, a warm sensation flooding through her, but Bing said, “You two can do your lovin’ later! We ain’t out of this thing yet!”
Deborah drew back, nodding. “We’ll find someplace to keep out of sight, Bing. We can’t be out in the open until dawn. We’ll be at the dock at six.”
“All right. Remember, it’s the Loretta, a steam packet. Shouldn’t be no one stirring at that hour, so I’ll take you to the cabin. We’ll be clear of Richmond by seven o’clock. Then for home! Don’t be late.”
“Bing—!” Noel caught at his brother’s thick arm. “Bing … well, thanks!”
Bing paused, gave a sheepish grin, then reached out and pulled the bonnet down over Noel’s eyes. “You sure look dumb in that outfit, brother,” he said. Then he looked straight at Noel. “I hope this kind of makes up for runnin’ away?”
“More than makes up for it, Bing!” Noel’s eyes were happy and he would have said more, but Bing whirled and ran down the lane. Noel turned to say, “Deborah—”
“What do you think about prayer now?” she
interrupted him. She pulled the bonnet from her head, and then the two of them stared at one another. She faltered, remembering how she had tricked him, and she saw that he was remembering it, too.
“Deborah,” he said quietly. “I learned a lot out of this.”
“Did you, Noel?”
“Yes. I learned to trust God more.”
“Anything else?”
He swayed toward her, and she tried to draw back. “I learned that a man’s got to let a woman know how he feels. So that’s what I’m doing.” He pulled her forward and kissed her. She clung to him, and when he released her, he said, “When we get back home, I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
Deborah stared at him, then flushed. “Well, I guess we’d better get away from here. If people see two old ladies kissing each other, it won’t be so good, will it?” But then as they left the shelter, she paused to say, “Noel? You said you loved me.”
“Yes!”
“Well, I’m expecting a little more courting than that when there’s time!”
CHAPTER 24
ENCOUNTER ON THE LORETTA
A carriage rattled down the cobblestone street, stopping at the wharf. The darkness still enveloped the waterfront, and a fine mist threw a corona around the lantern hanging beside the gangplank. Dent got out of the carriage stiffly, walked closer to peer at the side of the ship, then came back to the carriage. “This is the Loretta,” he said.
Raimey got out, followed by Dulcie. Dent said, “Chester, put the baggage on board; then you can go home.”
“Yas, suh, Marse Dent.” The slave moved from the seat, and Dent walked to the gangplank with him and Dulcie. A sailor appeared almost mystically, and Dent said, “We’ve got two cabins reserved under the name of Rocklin.” The man gave a jerk of his head, and the two slaves followed him, all three disappearing into the misty dark.
“I still think we should have put this trip off, Dent,” Raimey said as they walked up the gangplank. “There’s plenty of time before our wedding, and you’re not strong enough.”
Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells Page 65