by Jerri Hines
Then why couldn’t he get her off his mind…her eyes staring at him, her body against his, his lips on hers…
He had come to one conclusion. He needed to return to Philadelphia, away from this madness that had gripped Magnolia Bluff…but not alone. He intended to return with Josephine as his bride…over the rejection of his suit from her family…over the objections of his.
He had not told anyone, including Wade, of his intention. He had enough with all the fuss. It should not be so complicated. He was confident if he spoke to Josephine’s father, he would convince the man of the viability of the marriage. He wanted no more talk of scandal or Wade…not of Josephine contemplating marriage to any other man…not Holt Miller…not Taz Foster.
Now, he needed only to convince Josephine…which was his intention this morning. He had not wanted to get into another discussion with Wade, especially not about his slave. Last night, he had interrupted an argument between Wade and Grandfather over the fact that Grandfather had upped and sold the slave, Heyward.
The argument carried over into this morning. Cullen wanted no part of it. He wanted only to call upon Josephine. Wade still fumed. Granted, Cullen agreed, it was all a little odd, but it meant little to him. Moreover, if his man meant so much to him, why had Wade not brought him along on his wedding trip?
Cullen was tired of regressing backwards in discussions with Wade. Nothing seemed to appease his cousin. There was no purpose arguing further. Annoyed and frustrated, Cullen strode toward the door.
Wade followed and called out, “Leave well enough alone, Cullen. Go home. I should have never pulled you into this mess. I apologize, but I will see to it now.”
“The hell you will,” Cullen snapped. He halted and stepped up into Wade’s face. “I’ve seen how you have handled it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wade’s aggravation emerged. He pushed Cullen back as his eyes bored into Cullen.
“You know well what I mean! You are trying to maneuver this thing to your advantage …instead of looking after her best interests…tell me that you don’t have plans for her after she bores of this schoolteacher.” Cullen laughed at Wade’s silence and took a step back. “I’m right. I knew it.”
“You’re an ass!”
“Perhaps.” Cullen reached for the handle to the front door. He turned back to his cousin. “Look, Wade, you said you came to see if you could retrieve your slave that Grandfather sold behind your back. Do that. I will do what I…”
Behind Cullen, Wade abruptly slammed the door shut with one hand. “It’s what I’ve been telling you. It’s connected. You don’t understand any more than you understand Josephine.”
Cullen stopped abruptly. “Then enlighten me.”
Wade swallowed hard. “Heyward was with me when I met with Josephine. He began a courtship of sorts with her maid…companion…Gillie. Clarissa confessed to me that she made a request of Grandfather…to sell Heyward because she feared it would be used by Jo to meet with me.”
“It makes no sense.”
“I told you that you don’t know Jo.”
Wade’s tone said much more than his words. I know her better than you ever will. She loves me. You are going in blindly in a place you have no purpose.
Wade went on. “You have insulted me without cause. I would never treat Josephine in that manner or Clarissa. I understand only too well when I wed Clarissa, Jo is out of my life. It does not mean I do not care, but I would never compromise her…again. She does not deserve this.”
“You realized that you brought this whole thing upon us with your foolishness. Remember the night of your wedding—”
“I was drunk,” Wade didn’t let him finish, “and jealous…of which I have no right.” Wade’s manner eased; his voice lowered. “Know now, I’m here only to rectify the damage done. Clarissa knows I’m here and why, as I know what she has done.
“That is the reason I have returned. My conscience gnaws at me. I can’t begin my new life. I need to rectify the wrongs done. Clarissa was the one to demand Heyward be sold.”
Cullen looked at Wade coolly. “Then do what you need to do, as will I.”
He swung open the door and descended down the stairs. The rains had eased, at least for the moment. His horse waited, tied to the hitching post. It was only then he noticed they had visitors; Wade had already seen them.
Harry Lee and Buck rode up the lane and halted in front of Cullen.
“Morning,” Harry Lee greeted them with a broad grin. He tipped his rain-soaked hat toward Cullen.
Cullen studied the two for a moment. Finally, he said, “Morning. What brings you our way?”
Harry Lee leaned back on his horse. “You do, Lieutenant Smythe.”
* * * *
There was more to Miss Josephine Buchanan Wright than Cullen had imagined. Wade had known, which aggravated him to no end. When Harry Lee informed him he had come for the valise, Cullen’s temper flared.
He thought Jo had sent for her dowry to marry that schoolteacher, but it had not been the case. It was painful for him to acknowledge, but Wade had been correct in his assumption.
The distance from Magnolia Bluff to Miss Hazel’s cabin was no more than half an hour in good weather. But the darkened heavens burst forth with a downpour. Lightning lit up the sky; thunder roared. It took over an hour.
The small farm lay eerily silent as they rode up. The dogs and chickens seemed to have found shelter from the storm. A door creaked open and broke the quiet. Josephine appeared. She stood motionless for a moment on the porch.
She looked as if she had been caught out in the storm. She wore a rain-soaked navy riding habit under a cloak: her hair disheveled; her eyes reddened; her face flushed.
“You came?” She looked at Cullen, puzzled and nervous. She glanced over at Harry Lee. “I thought you went to get the valise.”
“He didn’t give it to me. Insisted on seeing you. Both of them did.”
Cullen watched her eye Wade. She was clearly upset. Moreover, she seemed quite anxious. Her gaze shifted back over her shoulder. He dismounted.
“What are you up to, Josephine? Harry Lee says you have a wild scheme about getting Heyward back,” Wade admonished as he jerked the reins back on his horse. “Surely you aren’t that foolish to think Miller will sell him to you!”
“It is not your concern, Wade Montgomery!” she cried. Her dark eyes snapped with fire at Wade. “It was you who sold him! I asked you only for one thing…one thing…to see to Gillie and Heyward’s welfare and you had him sold! To Miller!”
“Good Lord, woman, I have ridden half the state to rectify the misunderstanding.”
She stood there defiant, yet something was amiss. Cullen sensed it. Behind her bold claim, he could hear a quiver in her voice. Her hands trembled so bad she clutched to her skirt.
“You are frightened,” Cullen said as an observation. He walked up the steps. She looked at him, and then at the others still on their horses. She retreated a step. He would have none of it. He grasped hold of her arm and forced her to look at him. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Her eyes widened; her body shivered. Lord give him strength! She had ridden here in this weather. Her clothes were still soaked. She was going to catch her death!
“Look here, Smythe…” Harry Lee leapt off his horse.
Cullen held his hand up, warning Harry Lee not to advance. He wasn’t going to let her go until he had answers. Josephine lowered her gaze, but said nothing.
“Josephine,” he began.
“Please, Cullen,” she pleaded. She looked up and pressed her lips together as if finding it difficult to find the words she wanted to say. She reached over and laid her hands on his chest, fumbled with the lapel of his coat. Her bottom lip trembled.
“You have not called upon me. Grandpa Henry said your offer is no more.” She paused, and choked back the tears that welled in her eyes. “It would not matter if it had been accepted. I have need of the money far more than for a dowry. Tell me�
��tell me you brought it.”
He shook his head. “Not with me. I took it to Charleston and placed it into an account…”
“Oh, no…no,” she cried. Her hand covered her mouth. For an instant, fear flickered in her eyes. She clutched Cullen’s hand. “Get it. Oh, please…you have to.”
Behind her, he heard moaning…movement. Drawn to the sounds, he released Jo. Opening the door wider, he saw her distress.
A fire burned in the fireplace. Beyond it, Miss Hazel and Gillie stood beside the bed. They leaned over and wiped the tattered back of a black man who had been soundly whipped. He lay on his belly, naked and unconscious. The injuries oozed with a dark red fluid. From his view, at least fifty slashes. Both women looked up, justifiably nervous.
Cullen needed no other explanation. The women harbored an escaped slave… Heyward had run away from Miller.
Chapter Nine
“Dammit, Jo! What have you gone and done now?”
“Harry Lee, do not use that language with me,” Jo retorted. She did not need to be told the severity of their situation. “You cannot believe I knew Heyward would have escaped and ran back to Miss Hazel.”
“Think now the position he puts you in,” Harry Lee said.
Jo shot Harry Lee a reproachful glance. She would have liked to have told him he was overreacting, but knew he was not. Miller would never allow Heyward to be sold after he ran away. Jo feared a far worse fate awaited Heyward. She understood the code of slavery only too well.
Growing up, she had been instilled with pride for her ancestors’ fight for freedom, but that freedom hadn’t extended to slaves. Freedom of slaves scared the good plantation owners in the South. A slave uprising was a constant fear. A way of life threatened meant that a runaway slave had to be found…had to be punished. Hope of freedom was not allowed for any slave.
On their ride toward the Montgomerys’, Jo had confessed where her money was—her own attempt to escape—to Harry Lee and Buck. Harry Lee seemed quite amused by the tale. A short time later, he suggested she and Gillie stay at Miss Hazel’s until he retrieved the valise.
She hadn’t argued; rather, she felt relief. She had no desire to go to Magnolia Bluff. Strange, but at that moment, she felt trusting Harry Lee was the right thing to do. She had never done so before, but he had never shown this much compassion for her.
The group broke off at the lane that went up to the cabin. Gillie had gone into the dwelling to ensure Miss Hazel had a fire; Jo had taken the horses out to the barn. She was miserable, wet to the bone, and wanted only to return to the cabin to dry by the fire.
It was then she saw him…Heyward. In the stillness of the rain, the motionless figure looked like a fallen log. Then it moved. Stunned at first, she was too tense to move. Edging closer, she noticed light convulsions shook the figure.
Horrified, her heart froze as she recognized Heyward. His back was ripped, striped with whip lashes. His arms and legs were scratched and bruised; his feet cut up from running through the woods barefoot.
She had never seen a whipping, but she had heard they stripped the slave and tied them to a post. Heyward was a proud man. She could only imagine the humiliation of the punishment. The torture…pain. A sick sensation overwhelmed her at the thought.
The shock didn’t hit her until they had him on the bed. She watched Miss Hazel hover over her son and whisper to him lovingly; tears streamed down Gillie’s cheeks. Everyone in the room understood the magnitude of Heyward’s actions. Then she broke down and wept, for there would be no sympathy for the suffering of a slave. It was not allowed.
Cullen walked across the room and brought her back to the present. The fire burning in the fireplace illuminated a small aura around him. Her heart stirred with his presence…a strange comfort. Oddly, it carried no sense of disloyalty to the memory she once shared with Wade.
How short a period of time her heart had swelled with feelings for the man in front of her. The girl she had been with Wade had matured. She had lost her naïve view of the world.
“Tell me what you would have me do,” Cullen said simply.
She wished she might go to him and find shelter in his arms. But he had said the words briskly…bluntly, reawakening her resolve. Swallowing back her selfish need to be loved, she must not betray her weakness.
“So you want your valise back to save this slave,” Cullen said “You should have come to me yourself and explained. I do not like you are here.”
She considered his declaration. “I did send you notes. I received no response. Charlotte said you had gone to Charleston. Grandpa Henry told me your offer had been refused. What did you expect me to do? I had no choice but to handle this myself. I do not expect any more from you than to return the valise…that is all I want.”
“It is not here. Moreover, I wouldn’t give it to you even if it was here.”
“It is the only thing that will save Heyward now.” Panic grew within her. If she could not convince him to buy Heyward, then the poor man’s future looked bleak indeed.
“Don’t know if you can save him. Not at this point,” Cullen said frankly. “But he cannot stay here. Wade and I agree that the best course of action is to get him back to Magnolia Bluff. It’s our best chance in dealing with Miller.”
“What if….” She wanted to push to get them to help Heyward escape…to go against their upbringing…against the law. Moreover, it would be a great risk to their own lives.
He made a quick, despairing gesture, his frustration evident. “I have told you I will do what is necessary. You will stay here and wait.”
She nodded solemnly. She did not need to be told he echoed the sentiments of the men in the room. It was not only Heyward who was endangered. If he was found here, Gillie, Miss Hazel, and she would pay a steep price for giving refuge to an escaped slave. She had known the risk the moment she saw Heyward. Yet she refused to do nothing.
She had never been so scared in her life.
* * * *
Time passed slowly. Josephine sat beside Miss Hazel; strange, for she had a need for her mammy much as she had when she was a child. Miss Hazel held her against her bosom, gently caressing Jo’s head.
“Ya are so much like your father,” Miss Hazel rambled on in a nervous way. “Ya used ta get so mad as a young girl when I told you. My, oh, my! What a temper ya had. Your little lips would pout. Ya’d stomp your feet. Ya wanted to look like your momma.
“Oh, ya loved your momma. Ya’d tell me that one day ya would grow up to look just like her, always bragging ya had the most beautiful momma. Ya did. Miss Lucinda looked like an angel. I can see her now, with her sunflower hair and brilliant blue sparkling eyes. How she loved your papa and you. I remember once you held a cocoon in your hand. Ya told me that you figured that was how it was going to be—that one morning you were going to wake up and have golden hair.
“You waited, so confident it would happen.” Miss Hazel sighed. “Of course, it never did. I stopped telling ya that ya looked like your papa, acted like him too. Oh…you two butted heads even when ya was just a mite ca’se you both so alike…two peas in a pod, I’d say.
“Now ya gotta find it within yourself to act like him now. Your papa…now he has a talent… All them people gettin’ mad about losing money to him…accused him of all sorts of things. Cheatin! Lord A’mighty! The man would never stoop so low…not your papa. A gentleman, he is.” She chuckled to herself. “It’s his ability to recall every card played—in order. He used to practice with me and your momma. Amazing…watching him, but his talent…his real talent is his temperament. Nobody can read his real feelings, like a mask…that’s what ya hafta do…dig deep within yourself and find that in ya now. It’s there.”
Jo pushed upward and looked into Miss Hazel’s face. “I won’t let you down.”
Miss Hazel pressed her lips together tightly, choking back her emotions. Jo had never seen her so.
Suddenly, boots pounded across the porch and the door swung open. Buck raced inside.
“It ain’t good. There’s riders.”
From her vantage point, Josephine could see the group of riders draw near. The storm had broken, but a gray haze encompassed the rain-soaked ground. The men rode up. Their faces betrayed their angry purpose; their hands held tight to their pistols.
“Damnation,” Buck stated. “It’s the special patrol.”
Suddenly, Jo’s stomach ached; her head hurt. Fear churned inside her. Heaven above, don’t let me get sick.
She glanced behind her. Miss Hazel looked so vulnerable…so helpless, scarcely able to draw a breath.
A deep-toned threat from the depths of hell stood at their door. Her blood pulsed faster. Through the glass pane, she saw the stocky, middle-aged man dismount. He was coming inside.
Buck cocked his pistol. Jo stepped forward. She warned, “Don’t.”
The next instant, the door swung open. Jo whirled around. In walked Holt Miller; behind him, a couple of his men, armed and looking extremely dangerous.
“Well…well…well. Look what we found, boys.”
“What are you doing here?” Jo asked when she found her voice.
The moment was tense while Miller looked around the small cabin. Then he broke the quiet. “Searching for a runaway.”
“Got no runaway here,” Buck answered in a gruff voice. “Now it’s best you leave.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Buck,” Miller warned. “I will leave when I get answers.”
His pudgy red face smiled at Jo, a scornful smile. His expression remained imperturbable; a pistol readied in his hand. His gaze sent a chill down her spine. He hated her. There was no mistaking it. It was in his eyes.
“Tell me, Miss Wright, why you are here.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Hazel, her eyes pleading with her. Don’t make this worse! She swallowed back her retort and smiled. This was going to be difficult.
“Why, Mr. Miller, I swear, I do believe you are mad at me.”
“Ain’t the time or place to get into that, Miss Wright,” Miller said. “Reckon you got about a minute to answer me before the men start taking this place apart.”