He inhaled deeply, obviously nervous and it concerned me. “The clan elders met to discuss the rumors sweeping the tribal clans about the elder Opothleyahola. He sent a request to President Lincoln asking for presidential support for the clans to leave Alabama in peace. Our people have remained separated from the war conflicts, refusing alliance, but Opothleyahola believes we will become targets and will be forced into the war when we do not wish to fight. My father believes if President Lincoln permits the request, our family should consider joining them and relocate to Kansas, or to Oklahoma.”
“What about your granddaddy’s land?”
“We would surrender it to the state or perhaps sell it. I don’t know. My father once believed we could live and thrive here, but he no longer believes this is where we belong,” he shrugged his shoulders and looked at me hesitantly. “You would come with us, though, I mean, if you wanted to, of course, I mean, I wouldn’t force you or anything.”
What he expected my reaction to be, I don’t know. Perhaps running and screaming into the forest leaving him alone in the dark, or at least that is what his expression hinted. To be honest, the thought crossed my mind for a second, though, not out of fear, but out of joy. Joy in finally being able to reach out and touch freedom for my own life. No longer would the lost, confusing feeling consume or my life be defined by a lack of control. Leaving Alabama meant a lot for me and a lot for us.
“My love, did you hear what I said?” William asked. “Your family, your home, everything you have grown up knowing, you would be leaving behind.”
“Fortunately, I don’t have a lot of clothes I wish to pack,” I laughed. “I don’t care, William. Don’t you see what this means for us, and for me? I’ll be free.”
“You are not chained to your parents’ house, Alexandra.”
“For now, I am.” Repeating every word between Daddy and Thomas, either out loud or silently in my head, had become a leisure pursuit, a pastime that had cursed my every waking moment over the last few days. With the notion of leaving Alabama, their agreement between Daddy and Thomas was null and void now, though.
“Alexandra, please know your freedom will come with a price. Sarah, George, Jackson, your brother, you’ll be leaving them all behind.”
“Could they come with us?”
“I don’t see why they couldn’t.”
Rolling up onto his warm chest, the moon shone down on the both of us. Even in the grayness of the moonlight, he was still beautiful and could still take my breath away. He brushed my hair away from my face. His smile disappeared, and the light in the eyes I’d desperately missed faded, then turned into a frozen confusion as his fingers grazed over the faint dark marks along my neck and chest.
“Alexandra, what are these marks?”
Petrified, I rolled off him, and lay beside him, covering as much of my naked body as I could with the blankets. “They are only marks.”
“Who hurt you? Was it your father?”
I shook my head.
His nose flared with his deep breaths. “Mr. Ludlow.”
I lay in silence as he sat up, stealing the blanket with him. With his elbows resting on his knees, he clutched his hands together and leaned against them with his forehead.
“Why? Why did he do this to you? What reason would he have to hurt you as he did?” he shouted angrily, but didn’t direct his anger toward me.
My heart pounded in my chest, lacking the strength and courage to face the explanation of Thomas’s actions. Besides, I had other news to tell him tonight, news I dreaded telling him. His head needed to be calm, not hot with anger.
“William, I have not seen you for days and days. Please forget about the marks. If only for tonight, please,” I said.
“But—”
“Please.”
“Alexandra, what happened?”
“I embarrassed him,” I shrugged.
“You think I don’t deserve details?”
“No. I only wish to spare you the pain of hearing them and for us to enjoy tonight together. If I tell you, I’ll ruin our night.”
“I want to know what happened.”
His expression ripped at my heart. Without meaning to, my afflictions were cruel, and he deserved more from me than what I’ve bestowed on him, he deserved the truth. He sat patiently through my tales of spending the afternoon with Mary and Jane discussing Mary’s wedding. I twisted my hair between my fingers, involuntarily chattering and divulging a little too much into the mindless details of a wedding he didn’t care about, at all. His face held not a smile nor a grimace, but a simple calmness that faded as I stuttered through my regrettable, stinging reenactment of the conversation in the carriage at the end of the day.
“Quite a brazen thing for you to say, my love. I love it, though I don’t suppose he did,” he laughed. “And the marks?”
“He lunged at me, grabbed me by my neck, and threw me from the carriage. I tried to run away from him, but he caught me and knocked me to the ground. I struggled to fight him, but he overpowered me, began choking me, punched me several times, and then found a stick . . . I screamed, but no one was around to hear me, and then as suddenly as he attacked me, he stopped, threw me into the carriage, and escorted me home.”
“And, I suppose your parents took the news well?” he snorted.
“They believed Thomas when he lied about what happened. Mama was horrified that Thomas saw me in such a state.” My shoulders dropped—the emotional weight too much to carry any longer. After Thomas left the manor, I tried to tell them both the truth. I don’t know why I did. I knew they would never believe me, and of course, they didn’t. Arguing with them about any issue is useless.
“Daddy threw a tumbler of whiskey at the wall and cast me from the room. Mama, though, would never deign herself to such tantrums. Her punishment far outweighed any scolding when she had Sarah whipped before my eyes.”
Unloved by Mama, the one person who should love me was never an easy burden to bear, but such was my plight—a predicament I was slowly resolving with each passing day. Any remnants of feelings for the woman broke as I cleaned Sarah’s wounds. Mama was no one to me now.
William grasped the blanket and removed it from the rest of my body, his fingers tracing along the bruises across my neck, chest, and ribcage. The pain in his eyes broke my heart.
“William, you couldn’t have stopped him, and you can’t confront him.”
“Confront him? Alexandra, I could kill him for what he did to you.”
“But, you won’t.” My tone became firm and for a reason. Of all situations, neither of us needed a public fight.
“But, I won’t,” he growled. “I have a better plan in mind.” His deviousness showed in his perfect smile.
“And what might such plan be, Mr. Graysden?”
“To marry you, marry you and take you far away from this place.”
My heart stopped. Of all the words he could have uttered, he said the ones most unexpected. They left his lips and knocked the breath from my lungs. William’s proposal wasn’t the grand event that Mary bragged Duncan had done with a fancy dinner, expensive bottle of wine, and a room full of candles and flowers. Not that those types of proposals were wrong, they just weren’t what I envisioned, or wanted. But, lying in the middle of the forest under the moonlight was perfect. It fit him, and it fit us.
“Does that smile mean you agree with my plan?”
“Yes, yes, of course, it does.”
A cool breeze blew across my bare skin, and my body shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked, raising one eyebrow and smiling seductively. “I can resolve your dilemma for you.”
“William, wait,” I laughed, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him away. I’d been dreading this moment all night long. Actually, I’d been dreading it since
the letter arrived this afternoon from Peter. “I have news to tell you.”
Chapter 20
William’s smile faded. “Why does my gut say I won’t be happy with your news?”
“I have to run cargo to Clive tonight with Peter,” I said, grabbing my clothes from each of the different spots they had landed without looking at him, a cowardly act.
He threw the blanket off and got dressed. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, no, you’re not. You’re not coming with me.”
“But I can help you.”
“If too many people are involved it will increase our risk of getting caught.”
“Do you think I don’t know how to be quiet or to sneak around?” he asked.
“You can be like a bull in a china cabinet at times,” I teased, pushing on his chest, and instead, knocking myself off balance.
“I’m quieter than you, and apparently have more coordination.”
“Probably,” I laughed, pinning my hair into a tight bun. “Nevertheless, three people are simply too many people. Not to mention, Peter can’t know that you know about us and what we do. I’ve done this before, William. I know what I’m doing.”
“That doesn’t lessen my concern, my love.”
“William, I’ll only be an hour, or two. You can wait for me in the tree line near my manor, if you would like.”
“Where are the slaves?”
I dreaded this question more than telling him of the run. “Um, a slave named Jonah contacted Peter a few weeks ago asking for help to escape with his wife, Minnie.”
He gaped at me stunned for a few seconds. “You’re going to steal two of Henry Ludlow’s slaves tonight, and you want me to wait in the tree line for you to return?” His voice oozed frustration and cracked on a few of his words.
Drat. He knows them. Of course, he knows them.
Why would any part of the whole situation be easy? Hopefully, it wasn’t a precursor to how the night was going to go.
“Please don’t be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry, I’m worried.” He sat down on a log and rubbed his head. “Don’t you understand I can’t just let you leave me behind? I don’t like this, Alexandra—I don’t like this at all.”
It was the first time he had used my name in a long time—the first time he hadn’t called me ‘my love’. I clutched his hand, placing it against my chest. “Please, please just wait for me at the gates. I’ll be safe and I’ll return in one hour,” I sighed.
Tears filled my eyes as I ran away from him as fast as I could, leaving him alone, hurt, and confused. As much as I hated hurting him, too much was at stake tonight, and I couldn’t let my focus remain with him.
Recounting past slave runs with all possible catastrophes like outrunning hounds, facing the barrel of a rifle, and fighting against time, the monumental calculations of each one began twisting in my mind. Some had been quite successful, but the ones with errors that had nearly cost my life taught me never to take unnecessary chances. Over the years and over the dozens of runs, tonight would be the most dangerous of all. Thinking about the ramifications of getting captured tonight was too horrifying.
Peter was waiting at the gate of the Ludlow plantation with a change of men’s dark brown clothes and large brimmed hat in his hands. After dressing, I gripped the iron gates with shaking, sweaty, palms while looking down at Thomas’s manor looming in the distance.
“Jonah said he and Minnie will wait behind the kitchen house,” Peter whispered. “I’ve heard folks around town have been noticin’ Negroes missin’. Alexandra, we have to be careful tonight. Yeh understand me?”
“Yes.”
One of the worst facets of running slaves was outlasting the haunting jitters. From sneaking around the house, not knowing if the masters hid behind darkened windows watching my every move, to wondering if, at any moment, they could fly out of the house holding a gun. Or worse, shooting without first asking questions.
Peter and I snuck down to the orchard and peered through the fruit trees to the kitchen house. The white wood boards glowed in the moonlight, and only the sounds of owls searching for their dinner echoed in the darkness. Reluctantly, I snuck along the hedge and across the grass, searching with my breath barely controlled, for any sign of movement. The house was dark, and the curtains were still. To a stranger, it would’ve looked deserted.
I crept around the kitchen house, tiptoeing behind Peter and froze, crippled with fear at what I saw.
Jonah and Minnie lay on the ground, gagged, and with their hands bound behind their backs. Their bundles of clothing lay at their feet and their eyes were wide with horrifying shock. A rifle clicked behind me, and the barrel of the gun tapped the back of my head. My worst fear—my horror of horrors.
“Come to steal my father’s Negroes, have you?” asked a familiar voice, the very echo of which cursed me every day.
Thomas.
“Show yourself,” he demanded.
My heart stopped and my body went numb. Peter turned and faced Thomas, and then stepped in between Thomas and me, sacrificing himself and blocking me from Thomas’s view. Jonah and Minnie lay motionless against the kitchen house with pain and fear written across their faces.
“I should have known the son of a general store owner would act in such a manner. The sheriff will be quite interested to learn of your actions, Mr. O’Brien. Tell me, do your parents condone your behavior?”
“Yeh leave me mother and father out of this,” Peter snapped. “My parents have nothin' to do with this, nor do they have any knowledge of me actions.”
“A detail which will be determined by the sheriff,” Thomas threatened. “Who is your partner?”
Peter took another step and pressed his back into mine. Holding my breath, my stomach twisted, the sickness began to churn and my muscles tightened.
“Show yourself, boy,” Thomas demanded again.
Rooted to the ground, paralyzed and too horrified to face him, to count the number of my options, would be to count to zero. Imagining a good outcome from this was laughable.
Suddenly, Peter pushed hard against my back and lunged for Thomas. “Run,” he shouted.
Peter and Thomas struggled as I bolted into the trees. I never looked back. A gunshot echoed. Someone ripped through the forest close behind me, searching.
Clawing my way through the thick brush, twigs cut my arms, thorns tore my clothes, and the hard bark dug so deep underneath my finger nails that blood began dripping down my fingers.
“Stop or I will shoot you,” a man shouted.
Two more gunshots fired through the air, whizzing past my ear. I dropped to the ground, fighting the urge to scream, then scrambled to my feet and kept running through the darkness. Branches yanked at my hair, jerking chunks out of the tightly wound bun. My legs throbbed in pain, my lungs begged to rest.
Sweat dripped from my forehead. I swiped my hand across my face in order to see. The blood dripping from my fingers blended with my sweat. The brackish-copper scent forced bile into my throat, and I fought the urge to retch.
The soft glow of Thomas’s lantern bounced behind me. Time was running out. Hiding was my only chance, though it harbored more risk of getting caught. A fallen log lay in between a couple of thick low bushes, a hiding spot similar to the one William had picked out for us all those weeks ago. I wedged myself next to the log and pressed up against the bark to disguise myself as part of the wood. Within seconds, Thomas ran past me with thunderous footsteps. He doubled back a few times.
Please, Lord. Don’t let him find me.
With his foot inches from my face, he walked around the fallen log and began anxiously searching through the bush branches surrounding the log. The light from his lantern lit the leaves around me, and my dark brown clothing was just inches from hi
s line of sight.
Please, Lord. Please.
“I lost him,” he shouted as the other man approached.
“Why’d you leave the hounds penned up?”
“Everything happened so fast,” Thomas snapped. “Let’s get the beasts, they will find him.”
“At least, then, he won’t get far, Mr. Ludlow.”
Their footsteps disappeared into the darkness. Safe now. When they would return was unknown. I crawled out from my hiding place and ran as fast as I could. My only problem, though, was becoming lost in a thick forest that was unfamiliar to me.
Hounds began howling behind me as soon as they picked up my scent, becoming louder and louder with every second. Any effort to escape proved futile now that they possessed my scent. They would follow me until they caught me.
My foot tripped over a root sticking up from the ground and pain shot through my left ankle. Lights from the lanterns bounced through the tree branches inching closer and closer, following the hounds. Crawling on the ground in pain, my nails dug into the dirt. My knee rolled over another root. I wanted to scream from the pain, but doing so would give away my location. Not able to run, not able to crawl, I laid my head in the dirt, helpless.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. Death’s cold breath whispered down the back of my neck, waiting for my final moments so he could take me. A crime fitting the punishment of a noose, the fear over Thomas and Daddy’s reaction began to consume. What was going to happen to me?
The ground under my ear began to pound with the noise of horse hooves. Essiyetv was running toward me, and within seconds, William’s arms wrapped around me, picked me up, and helped me onto Essiyetv’s back. Climbing on behind me, he cued the horse through the trees, weaving left, then right, and doubling back several more times. The faster the horse ran, the quieter the dogs became.
The Woman on the Painted Horse Page 18