“I thought of visiting Emily tonight. She can be quite fun, you know,” he said.
“Then you should go to her.”
“I have always thought it is a shame you are not more like Emily. I never understood why I was stuck with the rebel and not the whore?”
“I will never be with you,” I said through gritted teeth.
Thomas laughed. “You speak as though you have a choice. Quite the shame your experience has been with a worthless dog. I would have preferred to have you all to myself.” He jerked my hair so hard I thought my neck would snap. “Do you desire me? Do you desire a real man?” He slammed me into the wall and stood at an arm’s length, holding me with his hand around my throat.
“No,” I cried. “Stop, please stop.” The room began to spin. My lungs fought for air.
I blinked, and an arrow shot through Thomas’s wrist.
Chapter 24
Thomas released my neck and I crumbled to the floor. William marched from the doorway with a second arrow nocked in his bow.
“Get out of this house,” Thomas bellowed, grabbing for the gun in the holster clipped around his waist.
“Enjoy hell.” William let the other arrow fly, striking Thomas in the neck. He screamed, began to choke and sputter, and then collapsed to the floor.
Struggling for each breath, Thomas reached out and grabbed my ankle. William kicked his hand and freed my leg. I covered my ears, closed my eyes, and pressed my face into the wall. It seemed like hours before the blood gargled, sputtered voice fell silent.
A pair of warm, strong arms wrapped a blanket around me. William whispered, “Are you alright, my love?”
For the first time in hours, the fear and pain vanished, leaving the horror to die as memories along with Thomas and replacing them with pure relief. William was alive and standing behind me. His face, his hands, every ounce of his being was still mine–all mine, and no one had taken him from me.
Daddy ran through the door, tugging his dressing robe over his shoulders, and gasped at the gruesome scene. Thomas’s body lay on the floor, blood oozing from his neck and pooling in the cracks of the hardwood floor.
William grabbed his bow and drew another arrow. “I will not hesitate to protect Alexandra,” he warned.
“What did you do?” Daddy asked, utterly horrified.
“I saved your daughter’s life. Not that you care.”
“You will hang for this, boy. Do you understand me? You will hang for Thomas’s murder.”
“Your daughter has been beaten, and you threaten the man who saved her instead of holding anger toward the man responsible. What Father does that to his daughter?”
Daddy stood on the opposite end of the room, his arm outstretched in defense, while I hid behind William who stood with his bow drawn, the arrow pointed at Daddy. Neither man would be the first to relent.
The front door slammed and John marched into Daddy’s office. “Father? Alexandra?” He looked around the room in utter confusion.
“Send for the police, John. This boy murdered Thomas.”
“What happened?” John asked me, ignoring Daddy’s order.
“Do as I say and send for the police,” Daddy shouted. “She and this boy must pay for their actions.”
“If you are so worried about Thomas you send for the police,” John shouted.
Daddy lunged at John, and William released his arrow, hitting Daddy in the arm. John grabbed the collar of Daddy’s shirt and threw him against the wall. With inches and pounds on Daddy, John easily overpowered him.
“How dare you forsake your own daughter for money and power? You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” John shouted, releasing Daddy’s collar and withdrew a Colt revolver from his pocket and pointing it in Daddy’s face.
“You are no longer my son. You are dead to me, do you understand me, dead to me. Both of you will rot in hell for the travesty you have committed.”
The life both John and I had lived and known for the last eighteen and twenty years was over. This house was no longer our home, and our parents were no longer our family. Our welcome ceased the very second John drew his gun.
Leaving was our only choice.
“John, you need to go fetch Maggie, and then gather Rhetta, Sarah, George, Abram, and Jackson. Tell them to each pack a bundle and escort them to Clive Benson’s house.”
“But—”
“Go,” I demanded. “And, don’t let anyone see you.”
I ran to Daddy’s desk, yanked all the drawers from the hinges, and dug through the papers in each of them until I found a large tied bundle of letters.
Approaching Daddy with the letters in my grasp, my reflection in the large circular glass plates in the door over his shoulder caught my attention. My image was obscured in the frosted glass, only visible beyond the clear letter M etched in the center. I thought of how many times I’d stood looking at that same reflection longing to spend time with the man I now looked upon with shame and disgust. All his business, all his money, all his so-called power had apparently been worth the sacrifice of his own daughter. An assumption, I know, but rather a good one seeing the abhorrence that oozed from every pore in his body.
The apple of Daddy’s eye, I wasn’t, and never had been. I was nothing more than a disappointment in his eyes, just as he was in mine. We were strangers to each other. Me, the once obedient daughter, blindly following his every desire like some pathetic puppy, too stupid to know any better, turned into a rebel he didn’t understand. And, him, the father figure that every little girl wraps their tiny arms around, believing their Daddy would never hurt them, would wipe away their tears, kiss their wounds, and protect them from any evil that would destroy them. Instead, he let the evil in, bringing it with him, and letting it infect and devastate that little girl who only wanted him to love her as much as she loved him—or at least once loved, because in all honesty, that little girl died years ago.
“Are these the letters you and Thomas spoke of regarding his plans to assassinate President Davis?” I asked.
“How dare you come into my office and—”
“Are these the letters you and Thomas spoke of?”
The strings on William’s bow stretched as he drew the arrow tight against his face, pointing the arrowhead tip into Daddy’s neck. I repeated my question, raising my voice each time, until he reluctantly nodded.
“You are a disgrace to this family, young lady, tarnishing your name with your vile behavior,” he snapped.
“You don’t know what a family is.”
For the first time, nothing Daddy could say would belittle my existence. With the truth in my hands, Daddy’s lack of love and admiration would no longer hold me chained to the life he and Mama lived, or to the decisions, they had chosen for me.
John threw a piece of folded parchment in my lap, and I left the letter where it landed. “Did you steal a bunch of letters from father’s office before we left Alabama?”
I glanced at William and smiled as he cleared his throat and winked at me.
“Do you mean the letters regarding the plans to assassinate President Davis?” I asked, stifling my laughter by trapping my tongue with my teeth. I inhaled deeply, letting my breath out slowly. “I had a courier deliver them to Mr. Toombs, the Secretary of State.”
“Why did you currier the papers?” John asked.
I studied the envelope, still folded and resting in my lap.
“Because I know the North can win this war,” I finally said.
Chapter 25
My fingers traced along the soft, white, silk dress lying across the bed. Tonight, I would finally experience the night I’d been awaiting my whole life.
Rocks tapped against the shutters of the small window behind me, and William’s smiling face peeked through as he gently thrust the shut
ters open a crack. His expression mirrored that of a child waiting for presents on Christmas morning.
“Estonko heruse hokte,” he whispered.
“You need to leave, William. I have to change into my dress,” I laughed.
“I’d rather stay and watch.”
“Go,” I ordered.
“Please?”
“No.”
“But I can help you with your buttons,” his smile was mockingly seductive and I loved it so much, I hated it.
“Go,” I laughed.
“Ecenokecvyet os.” He kissed me through the window and ran off, laughing, into the cool, Tennessee darkness.
I stepped into the dress and drew it up my body. With long sleeves and a neckline that ran straight across my collar bone and around both shoulders, the silk lay soft against my skin, hugging every curve. Without any fancy stitching, or the need for a corset or bustle, the dress bordered plain, but in its plainness breathed elegance and beauty.
“You look simply stunning,” Mrs. Graysden gasped, walking into the room. She cupped my face in her hands. Her eyes sparkled with tears of sincere joy. “You’re the other half to my son’s soul, as he is yours, and while you take your steps together tonight, I’ll celebrate for your happiness.”
“Steps?”
A smile spread across her face as she turned me around and began to secure the buttons on the back of the dress. “Outside you’ll see three fire circles. The large one in the middle represents our Creator and the holy union of two people, and the two smaller ones represent your separate lives. When you approach these fires, you’ll walk to William’s side, and begin the Rite of Seven Steps, traveling sun-wise around the fire. With each step you’ll both say a single vow.”
“Sun-wise?”
“Just follow William’s lead, Alexandra and he’ll take care of you. You’re going to have a good husband.” She picked up her brush and began grooming my hair.
“Will someone tell me my vows?”
“No, you’ll speak your own words from your heart.”
She finished brushing my hair and tucked one side behind my ear pinning it secure with a bunch of wild flowers she had picked and banded together.
“Thank you, Chenoa. Really, for everything, thank you.”
Mr. Graysden walked into the room.
“You look beautiful,” he said, leaning against the wall next to the door.
His tranquil nature, like the earth beneath our feet, kept everything surrounding him together in peace and harmony. William was just like him—my rock, my strength, William held the very key that allowed me to dream, but kept my feet on the ground at the same time.
“My son has chosen you for his wife, and I, as his father, am proud of his choice. To see your own son in such love with another, the same love you have felt yourself, is a gift for any parent.” He paused, opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated for a few seconds, and smiled. “Welcome to my family.”
I choked back tears. The father I’d longed for my whole life now stood in front of me, welcoming me, proud of me, and loving me. I nodded, and he hugged me tightly before leaving the cabin, and escorting Mrs. Graysden with him.
Alone in the cabin, my head began to spin, circling around all the words I desired to say to William. Simply telling someone you couldn’t live without them seemed natural, and yet inadequate at the same time, like an overused cliché, especially during your wedding vows.
Stepping out onto the wooden porch, the air outside was silent in the cold. I walked through the smoky air toward the bonfires.
After what felt like a million miles, I finally saw him, waiting patiently at the end of my journey, more handsome than I’d ever seen him. His hair, banded with colorful beads, flapped in the breeze, and was banded in the same braid that had caught my attention all those months, long ago, on a cobbled pathway. The deep ocean Sarah always said I longed for now stood in front of me. Everything I had ever dreamed and hoped for had been given to me.
William grabbed my hand as I reached his side, inhaled deeply, and tread one single step closer. “My wife, our love has become one as we have walked together. You’re everything I’ve ever desired and prayed for.”
I stepped to his side, “My husband, I shall vow to intertwine my life with yours and will share our life together as one. My commitment to you, my husband, is to love you in life and in death.”
We traveled six more steps, and spoke six more vows. Vowing to keep only to each other and to uphold the honor of the home that we would share, to hold each other’s love forever, to share the responsibilities of not only our relationship, but also to growing our family. I vowed to carry joy and love as I carried each of the children that would bless our family.
After our final step, he grabbed my waist and brought me in for a kiss. Our family surrounded us, showering us with embraces and kisses. It was a celebration that I didn’t want to ever end, and yet, wanted it to at the same time.
“Are you ready to see your new home?” he asked with one eyebrow raised in a devious expression.
“Have I not bothered you about it enough the last few weeks?”
Our cabin lay nestled in between two trees, away from the other cabins, and down by the creek that ran through our new village on the boarder of Tennessee and Alabama. The full moon shone off the water, lighting the sky above
As I passed William in the doorway, he shut the front door and grabbed my arm to spin me around to face him, locking me in a tight embrace. His fingers ran up the sides of my body reaching my face and then grazing the satin below my belly button as his lips met mine with such fierceness I breathlessly lost all awareness of anything around me.
“You are tickling me.” I laughed.
“My love, though I love your dress, I have to say, I desire to see it on the floor.”
“But, then it would get dirty,” I teased, stepping away from him.
“Your point?”
I laughed. “I think we made the right decision building away from the rest of the cabins.”
“Why?” he smiled.
I winked and playfully crinkled my nose.
“Knowing how your touch can bring me to a rowdy crescendo, I would be embarrassed if they heard me,” I whispered.
He grabbed my dress, and in one effortless movement, it landed on the floor on the other side of the room. Leaning into his ear, I inhaled his sweet, perfect smell.
“Then, I greatly believe we made the right decision, too,” he whispered.
Epilogue
Snowflakes fell upon Essiyetv and me in big, soft flakes, sticking to the already snow covered ground. His long soft winter coat was freezing and damp from the frost in the air, everywhere except underneath me. Wolves howled in the distance, our only companions as we waited for Clive along the bank of the river.
With an already full cabin, I doubted whether we would be able to fit more slaves in between the walls. Although, no matter how many men, women, and children lay scattered everywhere across my floor, all fast asleep and living safely in their dreams, no refugee would be turned away—a deal William and I made with one another months ago after relocating.
The last few months in Tennessee had passed by so quickly, it seemed we have arrived just yesterday. We built new cabins for William’s parents, George and Sarah, John, Maggie and Jackson, Rhetta and Abram, and William and me, all a new family that forged for a new life.
A new life.
Perhaps, new wasn’t the word to use. Perhaps, renewal would fit better. Or, revival, the revival of an old life, or several, that were in bad need of repair. A new life would be that of the growing baby in Maggie’s very swollen belly.
Yes, revival fit. Revival of a life repressed with a depth of utter suffocation that was now mine to enjoy. Even if most of my memories througho
ut the last year were ones I wanted to forget, forever, there were memories I wanted to live on forever, and those are the ones I treasured.
Light from a lantern bounced through the darkness and headed in my direction. It stopped and whistled a deep familiar whistle that made me smile.
Clive.
“How were your travels?” I asked him as he climbed over a large fallen tree.
“Rough. I sure am ready for a hot meal.”
“And, one is waiting for you.” The tired refugees came into my view.
“The rumors are true,” one of them gasped.
“Rumors? What rumors?” I asked.
Clive looked at me and smiled. “Down in Alabama and Georgia, word is spreading like wildfire about a woman saving slaves. They’ve been sayin’ all one has to do is look for the woman on the painted horse.”
The Woman on the Painted Horse Page 21