Vow Unbroken

by Caryl McAdoo

“That’s good, and I do appreciate it, but it’s Father—”

  “Sweet Susannah.” He patted her hand. “Don’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable. We’ll convince him; there’s not anything we can’t accomplish together.”

  “Henry. Listen to me, please. You saying that everything’s fine with you and the man upstairs does not make it fine so far as I’m concerned. I’ve tried to tell you again and again, but you don’t listen.”

  ‘I want you to quit worrying about me, Susannah.”

  “But—”

  He held up his hand. “No buts. Everything will be fine. I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

  With her whole heart, she wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him, but he didn’t know her daddy, and he didn’t know the whole story of why he’d refused his blessing when she married Andy. How could she insult Henry by saying he didn’t have enough money? Or that he had no trade? And without him being truly born again, there was no chance.

  Oh, God, dear God, save Henry’s soul!

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  LIKE ALWAYS, HENRY HEALED FAST. The third day out from Jefferson, he and Levi took to helping push the boat. Working the long poles stretched out his wounds and caused him to catch thunder from Sue each time she changed his bandages, but it gave him and the boy something to do. Contrary to what the old ladies back home thought, he hated lying about doing nothing.

  That third evening, a bit before sunset, he walked toward the front of the boat for another push. His relief man caught up with him and took the long pole. “Miss Sue says your supper’s ready.”

  “Good, I’m hungry.” Henry strolled toward the mess galley that Sue had made her own. When he got there, he was amazed with the feast. He would love her even if she didn’t know how to cook, but what a bonus. While he enjoyed a cup of coffee after his meal, the captain hurried in and grabbed a plate. After a few quick bites, he set his fork down.

  “Mister Buckmeyer, sir.”

  “Call me Henry.”

  “Yes, sir.” The captain grabbed another bite and bolted it down. “Sir, the men and I have been talking, and, well, if you’re agreeable, we’d like to buy the boat from you when we arrive in New Orleans.”

  “Why not? I was planning on selling her once we got the cotton sold.”

  “I thought I heard you say something like that. We have a problem though.”

  Henry smiled. “Not enough coin?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s it on the nail head. We’re hoping to make some good profit on the beeves and a few other trade goods we’ve got, but I don’t think it will be enough.” He looked at his hands for a second, then faced Henry again. “Sir, would you consider taking a note from us for the remainder?”

  Henry leaned back and glanced again at Sue. She lifted one shoulder a bit, then pulled one corner of her mouth into a lopsided smile. He liked this man, and his crew seemed top-notch. The risk would be high, but nothing compared to what the Lord had blessed him with. “No notes.”

  The man’s face fell.

  “But I will consider partnering with you.”

  “Partners? How would that work?”

  “I was thinking to ask three hundred gold for the boat. Can you and the men cover half that?”

  The captain nodded. “Yes, sir. That shouldn’t be any problem. I’m thinking we should be able to come up with even a little more.”

  “No. Keep any extra for trading and supplies.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can I trust you to do that?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “When you get back to Jefferson—and don’t take my half of this boat anywhere else—find a banker and give him my half of any profits.”

  The captain looked as though he was replaying Henry’s conditions in his mind, then started nodding with a smile. “Why, yes, sir. I understand.”

  Henry stared into the man’s eyes. He neither flinched nor seemed to be making himself stare back. Henry stuck out his hand, then remembered the unequally yoking that so bothered his beloved. “If you’re a God-fearing man, then it’s a deal.”

  The captain grasped Henry’s hand in his and shook heartily. “Yes, sir, I am. So, it is a deal indeed.”

  * * *

  SUE TRIED TO ENJOY THE carefree days on the flatboat, floating down the Red River, but the unrelenting realization that she must speak with Henry stole her peace. Each time she convinced herself of exactly what to say and when and how to say it, her heart ached at the possibility of losing him.

  And the resolve tied her tongue into knots. When she’d try to start, she couldn’t form the words or push them over her lips. One thought kept surfacing, though. The question he’d asked the captain. Replaying the incident, her mind’s eye watched Henry say, “If you’re a God-fearing man, then it’s a deal.”

  Why had he said that? What would it matter to him if the captain was God fearing or not? Hmmm . . .

  Finally, the fifth morning dawned. The captain said they should reach port before noon. After a good scrubbing, Becky got her hair braided, and then she put on her new blue dress, matching bonnet, and white ruffled apron. Sue also got her own bath. Having a river full of water at her disposal was nice after nine long, dirty days on that hot, dusty trace. If only the water could wash away the ache that grew in her heart.

  About a mile out, the captain ordered the pole men to reverse. Sue found Henry on the bow. “What are they doing?”

  “We’ve got to slow down; he’s going to steer us to that stretch of bank where the cattle are. Livestock has to go into holding pens, so we’ll off-load the beeves there, then get in line behind the other flatboats to deliver the cotton.”

  “Oh, I thought we could—” She stopped herself, since naïveté might expose stupidity. She wished getting the boat unloaded could go faster, but no doubt it would take all day anyhow. Oh, well, by the end of it, she’d surely have her cotton sold.

  But then what? Procrastination was not working well for her.

  Henry laughed. “I thought I knew how busy the wharf was, but I never imagined anything like this.”

  The day wore on as they inched their way up the line. Steamboats and skiffs sailed past to further docks, but more flatboats and barges lined up behind them. Slaves worked everywhere; the men’s dark, bare backs glistened under the sun and their burdens, and the women, in ankle-length, full skirts and modest blouses with long, puffy sleeves hurried about, carrying water or a bite of food. Some balanced loads on their heads. Always moving, dodging, and swaying as if performing some bizarre dance on the wharf. Some sang as they worked, adding to the buzz that filled the air.

  One gang of slaves pulled on ropes attached to a block and tackle at the end of a heavy wooden boom and off-loaded the cotton on the fourth boat ahead of them. Their speed amazed her. In just minutes, each bale swung from the boat over to a waiting wagon where a slave eased it into place, making neat, interlocking stacks. Before the hoist hovered back over the boat again, another bale waited, ready for loading.

  Henry pointed to a group of well-dressed gents wearing top hats who stood on the wharf huddled by the third boat in front of them. “Those are the buyers. See those wagons waiting? They’ll take the lint to wherever the big guns say.”

  “Oh, I see, I see.”

  “The captain said the butcher who bought his steers heard that the man from Liverpool was paying the most—if he liked the quality.”

  Becky pulled on her dress. Sue looked down, having been unaware that her daughter had joined them. “Where is Liverpool?”

  Sue slipped her hand into Henry’s and squeezed, hoping he’d get the message to answer her daughter’s question.

  He looked at the ever-inquisitive child. “England.”

  “But I thought we hated the bloody British.”

  He laughed. “We did, but not anymore. We kissed and made up.”

  “Oh, I see.” She looked up at him, then Sue, and giggled.

  The dance continued until Su
e’s turn to meet with the buyers finally arrived. Just as the sky’s fiery orb melted into the delta, splashing the sparkling water with its reflected pinks and purples and golden hues, a buyer with a thick accent handed her a piece of paper. Another handed Henry one. He stepped back onto the flatboat, then held his hand out to assist her. In no time, all the cotton was off-loaded, and the pole men pushed them away from the wharf.

  It happened that quickly. Her cotton was sold.

  The captain with his first mate waved from the dock. “We’ll find you.”

  Henry nodded, waved back, and then turned to her. “What’d you get?”

  She took a deep breath, glanced at the buyers, who were already looking to the next flatboat, then back to her piece of paper. Would this be the end? “Ten and a quarter cents! Oh, Henry, I never dreamed—” She tapped a finger over her lips. Her chest tightened, and tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to jump up and down like a little girl, but now that she’d finally sold her lint, would there be anything to hold him to her after she told him she couldn’t marry him? She swallowed and focused on the moment. “How about you? What did you get?”

  He smiled. “Nine and three quarters, but I didn’t have to work as hard for mine.”

  She wished he’d gotten the same price she did, but her neighbors apparently hadn’t taken the care she and Levi had in picking and cleaning the lint.

  “That’s wonderful! You almost doubled your investment in five days. What have I said? More than once? You are amazing. When and where do we go to get our money?”

  “First thing in the morning, we’ll walk over to the Wilkins and Linton Counting House.” He nodded toward her slip of paper. “That’s a bearer note, so don’t lose it. Anyone can cash it.”

  She thought about it only a second, then held it out to him. He should know that she trusted him completely even if she couldn’t marry him. “Would you hold it for me, please?”

  He took it, folded it neatly, then put it with his into an inside vest pocket. “Of course.”

  For one more year, she and the children would survive, even have a bit of money extra. But would that mean anything without Henry at her side? She didn’t want to go back to the way life used to be—not ever! But what choice did she have? She made herself smile and looked hard into his eyes, the windows of his soul.

  How could he refuse the Lord’s love and lose her?

  Surely, he would come around.

  She sighed, determined to trust the Lord to get through to him where she could not. Worry only hindered every promise of God, so she couldn’t think on it and fret so much. They were already twenty feet or so from the wharf. “And where are we going now?”

  “To the loading docks on the other side of where the steamboats are.”

  He and the captain had everything all worked out. A part of her wanted to tell everyone what to do and how to do it, but the bigger part sought just to relax and let Henry take care of it all. She smiled; especially since he enjoyed that so much. The thought of her sole job being to take care of him and the children was heavenly, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen. Her hardheadedness had already cost her Andrew and Levi his father; she’d not let Henry lose his life over it, too.

  As she pushed the ache down, deeper into her heart, a realization came to her. “Weren’t you going to sell your furs here?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Why not? Is there a better place?”

  “No, I’ve decided to keep them.”

  “Keep them? Why in the world have you decided to keep them?”

  He smiled that little-boy grin that she loved so much and would maybe miss the most. “I don’t want anyone else having the furs you slept on.”

  “Really? Henry Buckmeyer! How sweet.” She slowly shook her head. “That’s a heap of money.”

  He shrugged. “I know a tanner who lives a bit out of Jonesboro. Thought I’d get him to cure them on out. Maybe you and Rebecca can make us something.”

  Would this man ever stop amazing her? Just because she had slept on them, he wanted to keep the furs. How could she not marry him?

  Fix it, Father, fix it as only You can.

  The flatboat reached the loading dock just as the night got good and dark, but numerous coal oil lanterns hung from poles attached to the wharf’s edge. They lit up the area with a golden hue that cast eerie shadows but made it easy enough to see.

  On into the night, men—slave and white—worked, loading the flatboats this time, Henry’s included. Getting the captain and his crew ready for a return trip to Jefferson, the parade of stevedores and slaves carried wooden boxes and small bales aboard. It was almost too much. Some rolled barrels on their edges as fast as they could walk. The speed at which they worked flabbergasted her.

  The captain came up waving and walked the gangplank onto the flatboat. He extended his hand and shook Henry’s. His broad smile indicated his efforts had proved successful. “Got everything we needed and some ace-high trading goods to boot! My mate will be here directly.”

  Henry nodded. “Excellent.”

  The wharf’s hustle-bustle seemed never-ending to Sue. “Will they keep at it like this all night long?”

  The captain leaned out and looked across Henry. “No, ma’am, not unless a storm’s coming. It should slow down here in a few more hours.”

  One of the boatmen walked the gangplank, balancing a big rectangular box on his shoulder. Two black men followed him with identical but smaller boxes. Their new brass latches reflected the lantern light and sparkled.

  Henry pointed to the cabin. “The big one goes in my room and the other two into the ladies’ quarters.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sue watched the men for a moment, then faced Henry. “What are those?”

  “Trunks. They call them steamer trunks. We need to pack them tonight.”

  She watched as the men returned empty-handed. “Why tonight?”

  “We sail at nine sharp tomorrow morning.”

  “Wow, and you accused me of not letting any grass grow under my feet!”

  He laughed.

  She loved it when he laughed; it would be so hard not to hear that wonderful sound. Time to make her mind up whether to travel on to Tennessee and see her father was running out. On the map, it looked about the same distance from New Orleans to Memphis as it was to go home. Smiling at him, she shook her head. “When did all this happen?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “But how? You never left the boat!”

  He grinned. “I have my ways.”

  The captain nodded. “I believe if Mister Henry said frog, these boys of mine would outdo each other seeing how high they could jump.”

  He did have that effect on people; shame she’d had such a misconception of him in the beginning. Maybe she would have picked up on his natural leadership abilities and let him run her show sooner. “But I have to go by the countinghouse before we sail. I can’t pay for steamer tickets until I do.”

  Henry held up a hand. “Everything is taken care of. We’ll pick up our cotton money in the morning, and then stroll on down to the wharf, board, and steam our way to Memphis. Be there in less than a week.”

  At the mention of Memphis, her heart skipped a beat. He wouldn’t need to go at all since her father’s blessing was no longer the main issue, but his salvation. Should she, though? Becky had never met her grandfather. Yes, she would. Maybe there could still be a miracle. In her heart, she knew what she had to do, but would she be able? She looked skyward. Give me strength, Lord.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  A STEAMBOAT’S WHISTLE SOUNDED, and Henry sat up in bed. He blinked away the night, then realized he held his pistol. Hmmm, was he getting jumpy? He liked it that he never slept too deep. He patted the bed for Blue, then chided himself for being such a creature of habit. Rebecca had stolen the dog’s heart same as his.

  Well, the mutt did still mind him; at least that was the same. He pulled on his boots, then eas
ed outside. The moon, three-quarters full, lay heavy on the western sky, but the stars still rode the heavens. He figured two, maybe two and a half hours until false dawn.

  He slipped into the galley. Sue already worked on making coffee. He loved the way she looked in the early morning. She turned and faced him. “You’d think that steamboat captain would be a bit more considerate.”

  Henry shrugged. “He’s up; why not everyone else?”

  She didn’t answer his question but asked one of her own. “You want breakfast now or later?”

  “Whenever. You cook it, I’ll eat it. But if you’re of a mind to, we can wait until we’re onboard.”

  “Now’s good, I guess.” She went to working on biscuits. “Becky and I have everything packed. When will we leave for the countinghouse?”

  “The man said they open at seven on the dot.”

  “Did he say how far it is?”

  “Only a couple of streets down and one over. I know the place.”

  She handed him a cup, then filled it with steaming brew. “How are we getting the trunks from here to the steamboat?”

  He smiled. “The captain said he’d see to it.”

  “Are you and Levi packed?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She put the lid on the Dutch oven and set it on top of the stove, then faced him. “Take that shirt off, and I’ll change your bandages.”

  “They’re fine.” He held his hands up. “See? Everything is going to be fine. We’ll get our money and then sail on to Memphis. I’m looking forward to meeting your father.”

  She nodded, but tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away, then stared at him like she wanted to say more, but instead returned to tending the sizzling fatback.

  He wished she wouldn’t worry. She seemed so teary of late. “Sue? Aren’t you anxious to see him again?”

  She nodded, but didn’t look up. “Yes, I suppose. It’s been so long a time, and I guess I’m a little afraid of what he’s going to say.”

  * * *

  BY THE TIME SUE had the gravy close to perfect, Levi had joined Henry at the table. “Mmm-mmm, Auntie, you sure got things smelling great in here!”