The water seemed almost warm against the chilled morning air. Carrie splashed her face and drank as much as she could hold.
It made her stomach hurt less, but she doubted it would last. Lilly sat on the bank struggling to put her boots on. Carrie had given her the socks she had taken from Robert, but she didn’t know how much that would help. Her own feet were blistered and raw even with the socks. The blisters would be worse after today.
Lilly stood, leaning heavily on her stick, her shoulders bowed and her face pinched.
Carrie watched her take a few tentative steps. “How far do you think it is to Bremo’s Bluff from here?”
Lilly looked at the woods around her as if the trees might offer up a clue. She shook her head a little ruefully. “Only a mile, I guess, maybe two.”
“Do you think you can make it that far?”
Lilly gave her a tired look. “Is there a choice?”
“There’s always a choice.” That earned her the ghost of a smile. “You can lend me your dress and I’ll go get clothes for us, better shoes, buy our train tickets and come back to get you.”
Lilly shook her head. “No, Celia. Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I could stand to wait here alone. It’s better to be moving forward together even if it’s slow.” Lilly held her stick tighter and took a few more steps. She dug the stick into the middle of the stream and made the short hop across the water.
Her face paled when her feet hit the bank on the other side. She tottered but she didn’t fall. Carrie hopped the steam with an easy jump, took Lilly’s free arm and draped it across her shoulder. She slipped her own arm around Lilly’s waist and they took their next few steps together. It would be slow, but it would work.
They started weaving their way through the woods, one short step at a time, through brambles and bracken, over fallen logs, skirting around meadows, moving as west as they knew how to go. The leaves on the trees above their heads turned a pale green as the sun rose above the horizon. The light in the woods began to shine with an emerald glow as the sun rose higher overhead. They kept moving forward at a slow, shuffling pace, their feet scraping through the leaf litter, stumbling over rocks, their toes tangling in the brush. The birds twittered and called as the squirrels fussed at them from the branches overhead.
The sun had risen high when they came across another small stream. Carrie helped Lilly kneel to scoop some water. Carrie knelt beside her and bathed her face and neck, took her hair down, shook it out and pinned it back up. She stood and fanned herself with the hat. Lilly stayed on her knees by the bank of the stream, her face scrunched, looking as if she were trying hard not to cry.
“We can rest here if you want to, Lilly. It can’t be far now.”
Lilly shook her head. “It doesn’t take all day to go two miles.”
She dipped her hand into the water. It trickled over her palm with a light burbling sound. She scooped the water up, splashed her face and blew out a wet breath. “This looks like the same creek we crossed two hours ago and that one looked like the same creek we crossed this morning.” Water dripped off her chin. “Celia, I think we’re going around in circles.”
Carrie looked at the water gurgling over the stones. “It can’t be the same stream. If we drifted too far north, we’d see the railroad tracks, too far south and we’d see the river.”
“We should have seen something by now, farms, fields, cows. Something.”
“Maybe we should head for the river and get our bearings from that.” Carrie hoped that Lilly would know which way to go. Not all streams flowed to the river, and with the sun so high above their heads, she couldn’t even guess which direction was south.
Lilly dried her face with her sleeve. “Yes. That’s probably what we should do.” She lifted her hands and held them out to Carrie. “Help me stand, please.”
Carrie helped her to her feet. Lilly just stood for a moment with her shoulders hunched. Then, with an effort, she pulled herself up straighter. She looked Carrie over carefully. Her mouth turned down slightly in a disapproving frown. She reached out to straighten her tie and then smoothed the lapels of her jacket.
Lilly took the hat from Carrie’s hand, brushed the dust off the bowl and brim and put it back on her head. She straightened it, licked her thumb and scrubbed a smear of dirt off her cheek.
Carrie stood still as Lilly stared at her with an odd expression.
“You look nice with the hat on, Celia. It’s odd, I know, but it almost seems like trousers suit you better than skirts.”
Carrie felt a blush rise to her face. “You said I don’t look anything like a boy.”
“You don’t. You look like a girl in trousers, but it suits you somehow.” Lilly stepped into her and put her hand on Carrie’s chest. She felt the locket underneath her shirt and smiled. Carrie pulled her in and kissed her, soft and slow. They both had foul breath and their clothes stank worse than swamp rot, but Carrie didn’t care and Lilly didn’t seem to either.
Lilly pulled away first, her breath short and shallow. “We can’t.”
Carrie nodded. “I know.”
Lilly frowned sharply, looked around at the woods and then at the sky.
“What is it?”
“The birds have stopped singing.”
Carrie listened. The woods were quieter than it had been all morning. “You think a storm is coming?”
Lilly waved a hand at her. “Wait. Listen.”
Carrie listened to the sound of Lilly breathing, the rustle of her skirt, the light burble of the stream and heard nothing else. A small breeze blew through the leaves with a soft rustle of shimmering applause. A dog barked. A short yip followed by a slow, mournful howl. There was an answering cry and then she heard the whole pack baying. Carrie looked at Lilly who was looking at the trees, her eyes wide and white.
Lilly grabbed her sleeve and pulled her into the stream. “In the water. Quick. Keep to the creek. Head for the deeper woods. They might lose our scent.”
They ran upstream as fast as they could with their boots splashing, feet slipping and the shreds of Lilly’s skirts catching between her legs. She hiked her skirts up, held them in a bundle around her waist and kept running. Her drawers were soon soaked to her knees. The water got shallower, the rocks looser as the stream thinned and started to run out. A narrow deer path ran across it, dipping down one bank and rising into the dense wood on the other side. Carrie pulled Lilly up onto the path and they ran as fast as Lilly could go.
The deep howl of a hound sounded from close behind them.
They ran even faster as the rest of the pack answered from both sides. Lilly stumbled. Carrie caught her before she fell and dragged her onward. They were both gasping. Carrie could feel the air burning in her throat. Lilly stumbled again, and this time Carrie couldn’t catch her. She went down in a heap. Carrie pulled her up again, but Lilly could barely put her right foot on the ground. They left the path and stumbled through the trees with Lilly’s leg half collapsing under her with every step, Carrie doing what she could to hold her up and urge her on.
The trees ended abruptly at the edge of small clearing. The clearing ended at the edge of a deep ravine. Carrie skidded to a stop, teetering on the brink, arms pinwheeling wildly. She felt Lilly grab a handful of jacket and pull her back from the edge.
They both turned at the same time.
A dog burst through the underbrush. It lifted its head and howled a long, deep note. The answering cries came from every direction. The dog lowered its head and snarled. Other dogs crept out of the woods. These were not the friendly faces and floppy ears of the foxhounds that Carrie knew, but snapping teeth, raised hackles and menacing growls of angry wolves. The lead dog lunged forward snapping at Lilly’s skirts. Carrie kicked at it, her foot landing a solid blow against its ribs. The dog skittered back, its growl deeper and more threatening. The other dogs moved in, tightening the circle. Lilly shoved her walking stick into Carrie’s hands and Carrie swung it at the closest nose. A rock flew pa
st her and hit a dog who jumped with a yelp and backed away. Carrie glanced over her shoulder to see Lilly stooping for another one. A dog lunged for her stick. She swung again. The blow landed on the side of its head with a horrible thwack. It fell over and lay still. The dogs in the front growled and barked while the ones to the back barked and howled. Another rock flew past Carrie and she swung her stick at the next snarling dog.
A horse stepped through the trees, its rider stooping low over its arched neck. The man looked at them with narrow eyes. He sat straighter, raised a horn to his lips and blew. The dogs backed up as the horse advanced. Four more horses stepped out of the woods, the riders looked at them with cold, angry faces. One of the horses sidled closer to Carrie. She raised her stick. A man with a bristling mustache spoke down at her with his eyes still fixed on Lilly.
“This doesn’t concern you, boy. Go home and leave it be.”
Carrie swung the stick at the rider’s knee. She missed and the horse reared, whinnying with pain. A boot smashed into the side of her face. Stars exploded in her eyes. She staggered backward, seesawing on the edge of the ravine, arms flailing. The edge crumbled under her boots and she fell. She tumbled down the steep bank, slipping and rolling, her hands clawing at weeds, her toes scrambling for purchase. Halfway down, she hit a tree with an oomph that knocked the air out of her.
She hung there trying to remember how to breathe. There was a sharp pain in her side. She took a series of short, shallow breaths and untangled herself from the lower branches. Gasping around the pain in her ribs, she scrambled back up the bank grabbing at saplings, handfuls of grass and weeds, digging her toes into the dirt.
Her head cleared the top. A horse shied and danced away as a rock hit it on the haunch. Its rider cursed savagely and sawed at the reins. Lilly stooped for another rock. A different rider circled behind her and grabbed her by the scruff of her dress as she stood. Lilly screamed. Carrie scrambled to get her knee over the edge, but there was nothing to grab. The rider hauled Lilly onto the horse and threw her across his lap. She struggled and yelled, kicked and punched at him. Carrie dug her fingers into the dirt.
The horse pranced and jumped under Lilly’s flailing. The man held her down by the cloth of her dress bunched in his fist. Carrie hauled herself over the bank groaning as the edge pressed against her ribs. The man raised his fist high into the air and brought it down with a loud crack. Lilly went limp. Carrie struggled to get to her feet. The riders wheeled their horses and disappeared back into the woods, the dogs following close behind.
Carrie stood doubled over trying to breathe past the pain in her side. Her eyes fell on her hat that was lying dented and dusty on the ground. Anger surged through her. It mixed with her panic and exploded through her brain with a furious roar.
She snatched up her hat and smashed it on her head. She ran after the horsemen. Her aches forgotten, her pain ignored, she ran through the woods as fast as she could go, dodging branches, leaping over logs, bulling her way through the undergrowth. She made it back to the path in time to see the horsemen disappearing around a bend, back the way they came.
She didn’t think about it. She just ran. Even after the horses left her far behind, she still ran after them, coughing on the lingering dust thrown up by their hooves. She reached the stream and saw by the gouges in the bank where the riders had crossed it and kept going straight down the deer path. She wasn’t sure where that path went. There were any number of farms north of the railroad tracks between Bremo and Columbia but no towns that she knew of. She crossed the stream, skidding over the loose stones and scrambled up the other side. She ran again, as hard she could, and then she just kept running.
The path hit the railroad line and the wagon trail that ran alongside it. Carrie slowed but didn’t stop. There were fresh tracks in the dirt heading back to Columbia. She was pretty sure that direction headed back to Columbia. The riders were probably taking Lilly back to the jailhouse. Carrie shrugged the jacket off as she ran and tied it around her waist. She ran faster.
She ran along the wagon trail until sweat soaked her clothes and her tongue felt swollen inside her mouth. A train came roaring down the eastbound tracks, a large black engine belching a plume of black smoke. It whistled at her. The conductor leaned out the window and waved, but she paid it no mind. She just kept running. The engine passed her, its thick plume swirling in the wind of its own passage. The passenger cars with their tiny windows, the flatbed cargo cars stacked with crates, a shiny red caboose rounded the bend and then it was gone. She heard the whistle sound again from a distance. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her ragged breath tearing at her throat, the blood squelching in her boots as she ran. She couldn’t think about her feet or her legs or her lungs. She rounded the bend that the train had gone around and stumbled out onto a road she knew. It was the Richmond road that went through Columbia.
She was very close to town. She felt like crying with relief and then she just felt like crying. They must have been going around in circles after all.
Carrie slowed to a walk. She untied her jacket from around her waist and put it on. She put her hat back on and pulled the brim low over her eyes. They had never gotten very far from town. They never really knew where they were. They wouldn’t have made it to Lynchburg. Carrie wiped at her face with her sleeve. She couldn’t think about that or the things she should have done, the words she should have said. She was close to town and the road she was on was the fastest way she knew to get back to the jail. She would get Lilly out again, and this time they would head north and not stop for anything. They’d steal a horse or jump a train or something. Anything.
A wagon rumbled down the road coming from town. The dust from its wheels rose in a cloud behind it. Carrie squashed her hat down further, hunched her shoulders and pulled the jacket close in around her. She kept her walk purposeful and determined. The wagon started to pass her. She glanced up out of the corner of her eye. The driver was an old black man with silvered hair and a face that had seen too much sun or too much hurt. Carrie knew him well. It was Samuel. He turned his head to look at her. His hand froze halfway to the brim of his hat and his eyes widened. She looked away, but it was too late.
“Whoa, there, mule.” Samuel clucked his tongue and pulled on the reins. He drew the wagon alongside her. Carrie thought about running across the railroad tracks and back into the woods, but he had seen her and recognized her face. There wasn’t any point.
“Miss Celia.” Samuel lowered his eyes, tipped his battered old hat and then settled it back on his head. He looked up and down the road. It was empty, but he still looked nervous. “Everybody out lookin’ for you.” He didn’t look directly at her but kept his eyes on the mule’s hindquarters. “There’s been quite a to-do these last two days with young Robert lying prostrate and the Colonel in a sweat of worry.”
“Drive on, Samuel. Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.”
Samuel shook his head slowly from side to side. “I’m sorry, Miss Celia. I don’t reckon I can do that, being in the Colonel’s hire and all that. Anyhow, it’s best if you let me see you first.”
“Why?”
“Meanin’ no disrespect, Miss, but your hair’s all spilling down and you is leavin’ tracks that’s easy to follow.”
Carrie looked at her feet and the red stained dirt around them. Fire and pain bloomed through her body. She slumped against the side of the wagon. “I have to get to the jail, Samuel. They took my Lilly. Men on horses. Bad men. I saw them hit her.” Samuel scratched at the stubble on his chin. “It’s hard to reckon some of the things I been hearin’ about Miss Lillian, she always havin’ a kind word for us folk an’ all. They sayin’ she gone crazy, running about attacking people with hatchets and such.”
Carrie’s hands clutched at the rough wood. “She’s not like that, Samuel, you know she’s not.”
Samuel shook his head slowly. “The man at the jail. He’s dead. Got his head bashed in and left to bleed to death on the cold groun
d. The men that catched her say she had his boots on.”
Carrie’s heart jittered and skipped painfully inside her chest.
“Samuel, please. Please, I have to get to her.”
“She ain’t at the jail no more. They give her a speedy two-minute trial, charged with witchcraft and murder.”
“She didn’t do it, Sam. I swear by all that’s holy, she never hit that man.”
“Hmm.” Samuel slid the old leather reins back and forth between his thick fingers. “That’s mighty curious.”
Carrie pushed herself upright with a hiss of pain and stood as best she could on her burning feet. “Sam, I…I hit the man. With the flat end of an ax. From the woodpile. I never meant to hurt him. I only wanted the keys. Sam, please. Don’t let them hurt her. Anymore. For something I did.”
Samuel turned his head slightly and looked at her. His eyes widened. “Lord God, Miss Celia, what happened to your face?”
She touched her cheek. It was hot and swollen. It started to hurt. She couldn’t think about that either. “The men that took Lilly. I tried to stop them. It was his boot. That’s the truth, Samuel. I swear it.”
Samuel’s eyes, in his wrinkled, sun-scarred face, were piercing.
Carrie returned his gaze as squarely as she could. Her hands gripping the side of the wagon, white-knuckle tight. He nodded slowly and then looked away again. “We better get a move on, Miss Celia, if we’re to stop what needs stopping. If we can get over the river quick, we can reach the old oak before they finish saying all the prayers. You’d better get on in the back and hunker down low. No time to stop and answer questions about why you dressed like that or whose boots it is that you have on.”
Carrie looked at the high sides of the wagon. Then she looked up at Samuel who was waiting patiently. She held her hand up to him. He looked surprised and a little scared. He looked over his shoulder at the empty road behind him and then back at her hand. He hesitated a moment more, but then grabbed her hand in both of his and hauled her into the wagon. Carrie half climbed, half fell into the back. She lay flat and pulled an old tarp over her head. It smelled like rope and stale oats.
The Color of Dust Page 23