Francine lifted a roasting pan from the top of a black cook stove. “We have a lot of friends.” She cast Joseph a pointed look.
“The slaves from Missouri River area?”
She nodded. “They have their own gardens back in the hills, and they know how to hunt and forage. When they discovered we’d be startin’ a family soon, they took it upon themselves to feed us.” She stepped back so Buck could take the heavy pan from her. “They’re hidin’, what with all the activity around town lately.” She sank down onto the chair beside Joseph. “They’ve heard the stories about that Duncan fella and his dogs coming here to hunt them.” Fire shot from her amber eyes when she looked up at him. “Captain, things are gonna be bad here. It’s only a matter of time before a slaver catches one of our friends and raises a ruckus.”
“If they’ll trust me, I believe I can lead them past the danger spots, but we’ll need to gather them and prepare them for some hard travel to Kansas Territory.”
Francine’s eyes widened and her lips parted. “You really mean that, Captain Rickard? Buster said you could move mountains with your faith, but you think you can get all those folks to safety?”
Joseph could not contain his surprise. Buster said that? He glanced out the window toward the steps where the ornery kid perched. “I think we will do all we can and then trust the Lord for the outcome.”
Buck placed the large roasting pot on the table and added plates with eating utensils. “Like sassafras tea?”
“Sure do.” Joseph got up to help set the table. “Mind if I take some of this food out to the boys? I asked them to keep watch.”
“Give them extra helpings,” Francine said. “I heard they’ve had a busy day.”
“That they have,” Joseph said over his shoulder as he carried the two plates out the front door.
Gray had finished his duties and joined his brother, mimicking Buster’s guardlike stiffness. When Joseph delivered the food, the boys thanked him then tucked into it with dirty hands.
“When do you think that Duncan fella’s gonna show?” Gray asked.
“We don’t know that he will,” his brother replied, talking with his mouth full. “You know how rumors spread like wildfire.”
“Shouldn’t take any chances. Maybe we oughta sleep out here tonight.”
“It looks to me as if there’s plenty of room inside,” Joseph said. “Someone might think it’s odd if they see you sleeping on the porch when there’s a big, two-story house behind you. You look odd enough already.”
“Oh, him?” Buster said, opening his mouth, filled with potatoes, as he pointed a thumb at his brother. “He always looks odd.” He cackled and choked on his food.
Gray shook his head and sighed. “We’ll be in after you folks make your plans. I just hope your plans don’t include hightailing it out of town without us.”
“Keep your heads down and your mouths shut around the locals, and I’ll see if there’ll be room for you to ride with us,” Joseph teased.
“Ride?” Gray asked. “There aren’t enough horses for thirty-five people to ride.”
“That’s something else we’ll work on.” Joseph stepped back inside the house and closed the door behind him, once again admiring the size and beauty of the cabin.
“Nice place, ain’t it?” Buck asked.
Joseph nodded. “You have some amazing woodworking skills.”
“Not me. That was Naaman’s doing. About six of the Africans helped me with the house. They were so grateful to us for keeping them from being discovered and for seeing to their needs when we first found them, they haven’t stopped trying to repay us. That food’s from them, the woodwork, the upstairs...they built that soon as they saw we were in the family way, saying we should have a lot of children.”
“How could they have remained hidden from the townsfolk?” Joseph asked.
Buck grinned and waved his hand. “Most everybody in town’s seen Naaman and Josetta, and they think we own them, of course. Not all of them approve, but we don’t dare tell them any different. To most folks, black skin is black skin. They don’t pay much attention past that. So if Clement and his wife, Miriam, are seen working on the house or helping me with the horses, no one seems to notice the difference between them and Naaman and Josetta. It’s like they don’t have faces.”
Francine beckoned both men to the table. “Joseph, come and keep Buck company while Heidi and I make sure Victoria eats and gets cleaned up. We’ve already blessed the food.”
Buck helped his wife carry a tray for Victoria, then returned to the table across from Joseph and dug into the food. Joseph followed his lead and tasted the best bite of beef that had ever crossed his teeth.
Buck was watching his face, and he gave a huge grin. “Good, isn’t it? My wife learned how to cook when we got here, and was I ever glad. I was afraid we’d go broke finding a place to eat out every night, the way we did in St. Louis. Turns out Miss Cora Lou, the pastor’s wife, has the only eatin’ place in the village, and she was being run over with work when the wagon trains came through. I told Francine maybe it’d be neighborly to help her out, and maybe learn a little about her recipes.”
“How’d that work for you?” Joseph asked, relishing the tender roast.
“Like that,” Buck said with wide, friendly eyes as he pointed at Joseph’s fork. “My woman’s a fast learner. Then she decided to teach me. Said we’d have us a passel of kids someday and it was about time I trained for it now.”
“You’re truly a blessed man. Victoria seems to think it’s because you and Francine bless others so well.”
“Did she also tell you how she found us?” The smile—which had until now appeared to be a fixture on Buck’s broad, friendly face—eased away slowly until his expression was grim. “Francine and I took some cattle to the sale barn one day a few years ago. Cattle were selling well and we were going to have us a good meal before catching the ferry back across the Mississippi.”
“You lived in Illinois, as well?”
Buck nodded. “You?”
“I had a ranch there once. What happened to you that day?”
“Big man held a gun on us and tried to rob us of the money from our cattle. I fought and shouldn’t have. He shot me in the gut, near killed me, left me unable to protect my wife. Had his big ol’ nasty paws on my Francine, was hitting her and manhandling her to the ground when a freedman attacked him and dragged him off Francine. Poor man was shot by Otto Duncan for his troubles.”
“Otto Duncan, the blackheart,” Joseph muttered.
Buck put his fork down and leaned forward. “You heard Otto Duncan murdered his neighbor last year? The one who owned the folks we’ve got in hiding?”
“I heard.”
“You ever hear why he did it?” Buck’s expression had darkened with remembered anger.
“I understand he enjoys killing.”
“He hated his neighbor for freeing slaves. That neighbor of his, he’d purchase slaves at the market like the rest of his cohorts, but once his slaves worked for him for seven years, he released ’em. Freed ’em. In fact, most of the folks working for him were freed slaves who chose to stay on for pay so’s they could have their own place someday.”
“That’s why he was murdered?” Joseph thought about his brother in Georgia. What if one of their neighbors took exception to the way Blake handled the plantation slaves, teaching them to read and write, building them a church, making sure they had time with their families?
“That freedman, he probably saved Francine’s life when I couldn’t,” Buck said. “Our attacker got away.”
“Where were the police?”
“Where they always are when violence breaks out—somewhere else. Then this tall doctor comes out and tries to save the life of the freedman, but it was too late. So he practically carried Francine and me to his clinic, where his wife was already setting up to treat our wounds. Francine was crushed after what she’d seen, and scared for me, what with the blood and all. Victoria held
her and let her cry, treated her wounds, prayed with her and helped comfort the deeper wounds that didn’t show with the blood and cuts. They made us stay with them long enough for us both to heal.” Buck’s calm, deep voice was a soothing balm through the huge room.
“Matthew and Victoria were friends of mine as well, with pretty much the same story,” Joseph said. “Are you still running cattle?”
“Nope.” Buck picked up his fork again, scraped his plate clean and pushed away from the table. “I kind of took after Matthew, hung around his place, studied how I might make some of his medicines and surgeries work for my cattle, keep them from sickening so often. So now I’m the town doc for humans and animals alike.” He reached into the stove and pulled out a pan of something that smelled spicy-sweet. “Granted, I’m nothing when it comes to Victoria’s knowledge, but we get by here. Lots of travelers come through, and they always seem to need medicines for man or beast.”
“So that’s why Heidi was able to find feverfew and laudanum.”
“That’s right. We get wagons with supplies through here every so often. Cake?” He held up a bowl and spoon. “My own recipe, spicy black walnut apple cake. Sorry we don’t have topping for it. I used the last of our black walnut apple jam to celebrate the coming of our first young’un.”
“I’d love some, but if you dish it out I’ll take it to the ladies first, then the boys. How did you manage to hide the Africans all the way across Missouri?”
Buck deftly filled bowls with the cake and plopped a spoon into each. “I had some scouting experience in the eastern part of the state. We took pretty much the same route you did, only deeper in the trees.”
“On foot? No animals?”
Buck nodded. “That’s where we all had to forage and hunt. They arrived with us here in the dead of night and lodged in the cave. Not a lot of folks in these parts go down into the cave because too many folks’ve had accidents down there. A couple have died. Bad footing.”
“How do your friends keep from falling?”
“I grew up near here and knew about another entrance, a sinkhole on the other side of the mountain. Then when we built this place, we cut into the side of the cliff and made another entry.”
“So your friends in the field can come and go without being seen.”
“That’s right.”
“No one else in town knows about the friends?”
Buck shook his head. “The fewer who know a secret, the safer you are with that secret. The problem is, now that Naaman and Josetta left openly with your wagon train this afternoon, it’ll be harder to explain any of our friends.”
“Unless we take them with us.” Joseph gathered the bowls and headed toward the bedroom where he could hear the women laughing and talking.
He knocked softly. “Mind if I interrupt with dessert?”
The door swung open and Heidi’s eyes widened when she saw the bowls. “Captain, you realize we’ll have to stay here awhile, don’t you?” She took the bowls and passed them around, gathered the plates and flatware. “The doctor can’t travel like this, and we don’t even have a wagon she can ride in now.”
“I’ll be able to ride by tomorrow,” Victoria said.
“No need,” Joseph said. “McDonald hasn’t had time to gather the others from down south. He has several stops to make.”
Victoria closed her eyes and rested her head against her pillow. “I’ve discovered I don’t make a good patient.”
Joseph chuckled. “You’re just now finding that out? I could have told you what a horrible patient you would make.” And how beautiful she was in spite of her illness.
Heidi and Francine giggled. Victoria made a face at him.
“You’re independent and you don’t like to put others out,” he said. “You try to carry the whole world on your shoulders so no one else will have to worry about it.” How he loved that in her.
The women stopped giggling. Heidi sighed softly. Victoria’s eyes widened.
“So for now,” he said, “you need to practice being a good patient so you’ll be healed by the time we leave. I’m going to need Buck’s help figuring out a way to get their friends to Neosho without being caught.”
“You aren’t forgetting Duncan, are you?” Victoria asked. “Francine told me he likes to range far and wide with his hunting dogs, and what about the posse Thames mentioned?”
“Duncan comes from north of the Missouri River. That’s a long ride. Thames might even have been bluffing. Remember, Silver Tail won’t be getting word to anyone about anything now.”
“You should plan for Duncan, just in case,” Francine said. “You know the kind of man he is. If he’s caught word about our friends, you can be sure he’ll head this way, even if only for some wicked sport.”
“We won’t underestimate him,” Joseph assured her. “I think he may be underestimating our knowledge of this area, especially Buck’s. For the time being, Victoria, you focus on healing. Let Buck and me work on other things.”
He gave her a long, reassuring look, and then he turned toward the door as his assurance slipped away. Too much could go wrong. Too many lives were at stake. He desperately sought help from God as he closed the door behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
Three mornings after arriving at the Frasier home, Victoria decided she was ready to travel. Between Francine’s abundant trays of food and Heidi and Buck trying different concoctions on her wound to heal the infection in her body, she figured if she didn’t ride out of town sometime today they would kill her with kindness.
She dressed the aching wound on her thigh and bound it tightly. Much of the worst pain was gone. Must’ve been the salve Buck gave her yesterday. He used it on cattle, horses and goats, and the thought of that made her chuckle to herself.
Not only was her wound healing, but the sharp edge of pain in her heart was easing. Yes, she’d killed two men. She had once vowed to never take a human life, even if it meant losing her own. How young and naive she’d been then.
Taking the life of murderers to save the life of a man who was still half boy had been instinctive. With a battle heating up outside the front door of the Frasier home, she faced the fact that she might have to do more shooting, take more lives to protect the innocent. No matter how much she wanted to remain untouched by death, she was already in the middle of it and there was no way out.
Heidi was also steeped in death, and the heaviness of her spirit haunted her face, darkened her smile. Francine’s loving grace and Buck’s playful kindness had kept the young woman occupied so that the shock of her loss wasn’t as obvious. For now. Later she would suffer. Victoria mustn’t leave her alone.
Someone knocked on the door lightly. “May I come in?” It was Joseph.
She slid her skirt down and stood to walk to the door. Barely a limp. “I’m up.” She opened the door to find him hovering in the doorway holding a mug of coffee. He looked better to her than the coffee or any of the delicious meals or desserts he’d delivered to her these past days.
“It’s your favorite.” He held the mug out for her. “Fresh cream, skimmed off the top.”
“You remembered how I liked it.” She thanked him and took the mug, then walked beside him to join the others who were already working around the breakfast table. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had my coffee this way. At least since before we left St. Louis.”
Joseph held a chair out for her and helped her seat herself. “I always loved to see your eyes light up when you were enjoying your coffee.”
She looked up at him and sustained his gaze, recalling the mornings he’d met her for breakfast at her brother’s house in St. Louis before the day’s work began. How different he’d seemed then. Younger, of course, though burdened with responsibility—especially after their arguments began about his need to follow his father’s wishes and return to Georgia. These days he carried a greater load on his shoulders with much more confidence and less angst.
“Just wait,” Fr
ancine said, turning from the stove, “until you taste your coddled eggs and bacon. Heidi cooked the potatoes and onions good and crisp, the way we like ’em here.”
“Absolutely.” Victoria was aware Joseph’s attention was still on her. “Heidi has gained a reputation as an excellent cook.”
How good it felt to spend time with Buck and Francine. Their home offered a spirit of healing balm for anyone who stepped through the doors. Perhaps that was why the claw wound was less painful than expected.
Buster and Gray came clomping down the stairs with slow deliberation. Buster picked up a pot to scrub, silent for once. Gray gathered plates to set at the table, as quiet as his brother, gloom heavy in his expression.
“Is everything okay?” Victoria asked.
“Buster heard some news down at the stables this morning,” Joseph said.
“Not something that will be fretted over at breakfast,” Francine warned.
“That murderer’s on his way.” Buster scrubbed at an extra tough spot on the cast-iron skillet.
“I see.” Victoria took another sip of her coffee and refused to let the news squelch her enjoyment. “I’m sure we’ll be prepared by the time he arrives.”
“We don’t have everything ready yet.” Gray slid a plate and fork beside her mug. “Enoch and Bart and Samuel worked all night on their flat bottoms.”
Victoria blinked at him, hesitant to ask.
“Boats,” Gray explained. “The creeks are high, and even though it’d be a roundabout way to get to Neosho, Shoal Creek will take us where we need to go. Buster and I’ve been keeping watch while everyone else works on the flat-bottom boats, but the poles aren’t ready, and we need good poles because we’ll be pushing our way up the creek.”
“When did you last speak to the men?” Joseph asked.
“Couple hours ago,” Buster said.
“It shouldn’t take much time to cut some good poles,” Joseph said. “Buck found the horses you released on Tuesday. He got their saddles, bridles and all, and since their owners will no longer have use for them, some of the ladies can double up on them.”
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