“Perhaps,” said Lord Playfair doubtfully. He struck a match off the heel of his boot, Hannah’s face momentarily illuminated as the match flared inches from her nose. He puffed on his cigar as he lit it. “But the anti-slave element is growing in the North.”
Hugh filled a pipe and lit it. “Nothing more than sanctimonious hypocrites.”
“Yes, well, those same sanctimonious hypocrites got slavery abolished in England,” said Lord Playfair.
“But America is too vast,” scoffed Hugh. “No matter what the abolitionists say, the people in power aren’t foolish enough to risk losing what the South produces, and the South cannot produce without slaves. Trust me, America will never abolish slavery.”
CHAPTER 19
The Mitchells were just sitting down to dinner when there was a knock on the back screen door.
“Jed!” Elizabeth said warmly. “Come in.”
Jed bobbed his head politely as he entered the kitchen. His blond hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed from the heat.
“Have you had supper yet?” she asked, getting up to pour him a cold glass of milk.
“No, ma’am,” he replied, accepting the glass and drinking deeply. “But I’m too dirty and –”
“Nonsense,” said Elizabeth. She got him a towel and said, “Go wash up, run some cold water on your head to cool down and come eat. We’ve got plenty.”
A few minutes later, looking considerably cleaner and cooler, Jed took a seat at the table where Elizabeth filled a plate for him.
“What have you been working on?” Conn asked.
Jed’s mouth was full of a large forkful of sweet potato. He swallowed painfully and said, “Peregorn’s barn.”
Conn opened her mouth to ask another question, but Elizabeth cut in, saying, “Let the poor boy eat, and then you can talk.”
Jed grinned and dug into his food, eating ravenously. Conn and Will finished their own dinners and waited. A thought occurred to Conn and she asked, “That was Molly Peregorn who brought some medicine when Will was sick, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, looking surprised. “How did you know who she was?”
Conn shrugged. “Just guessed.”
Jed looked up. “She’s a witch.”
Elizabeth looked at him reprovingly. “There is no such thing as a witch, Jed. Miss Molly and the women who came before her got that reputation because people around here love to talk. And anything they don’t understand, they’re afraid of.”
“Yes’m,” Jed said politely, but he didn’t look as if he believed one word of what she said. “Anyway, we’re not working at her place. We’re at the Peregorn home place, out the river road. I never seen such a big house or barns. I swear it feels like we’re a hundred feet up when we’re on the barn roof.”
“You’re working all the way up on the roof?” Elizabeth asked disapprovingly.
Jed grinned. “It’s all right. Mr. Greene makes me tie on to a rope in case I slip.”
“Wow,” Will breathed, his eyes big, and Conn knew he was thinking how scary it would be to be that high up.
“He’s teaching me how to repair some of the timbers where the roof had a leak,” Jed was saying, proudly adding, “He says I’m a good helper.”
Conn couldn’t help feeling a little envious of all the things Jed must be learning, but she reminded herself that Jed and his father needed the money.
As if she were thinking the same thing, Elizabeth asked, “How are things with your father?”
“Better,” Jed replied. He shook his head. “I never seen anyone stand up to my pa like that Miz Mitchell.”
Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “Well, as I said, your father and I had a few run-ins in school. He always backed down if anyone had the nerve to speak up. I don’t think he’s a bad person at heart, but I think he gets mean when he’s been drinking. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”
To Conn’s amusement, Jed blushed. He turned to Will and asked, “You feelin’ better?”
Will nodded and said, “It was the faerieflies.”
“That’s what he calls lightning bugs,” Conn explained at Jed’s puzzled expression.
“You want to stay and catch some tonight?” Will invited.
“Can’t. Got to get home,” Jed replied. “I should get goin’. Thank you for supper, Miz Mitchell.” He turned to Conn with a meaningful glance.
“I’ll walk you down the drive,” Conn said, jumping up from her seat. “And I’ll be right back to help with the dishes,” she said to her mother.
She and Jed walked down the twilit lane. “What’s up?” she asked once they were out of earshot of the house.
“I got tomorrow off,” Jed said. “And I wondered if you wanted to do some more explorin’ in the tunnels?”
“Yes,” Conn said eagerly. “But I’ll have to sneak out of the house early to get away from Will. He wants to follow me everywhere lately.”
Jed grinned. “Well, how ‘bout we meet at the cabin at sun-up? We’ll be in the dark anyways, so that won’t matter.”
“Okay,” Conn nodded. “Sun-up. See you.”
“See you,” Jed said as he disappeared into the gloom.
***
The next morning, Conn arrived at the cabin before the sun was fully up. Jed was waiting.
“What’s that for?” she asked, indicating the large coil of rope lying at his feet as she shrugged off a green canvas rucksack.
“We’ve had a couple of close calls,” he said. “I thought we better have some rope handy in case one of us really does fall.”
“Good idea,” Conn said as she squatted down and undid the flap of her rucksack. “This was my dad’s. I packed us some sandwiches and cookies and a jug of water. Did you have any breakfast?”
Jed shook his head.
“Here,” she said, digging around in the rucksack and pulling out a slightly squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper. “I made extras, just in case.”
“Thanks,” said Jed gratefully, ripping open the wax paper and taking a huge bite.
When he was done, he slipped the coil of rope over his head so that it lay across his chest while Conn slid the rucksack’s straps over her shoulders. Carefully, they climbed up the rocks to the crevice which led to the cavern.
“Wait,” Conn said, “I’m stuck.” The crevice was too narrow to get through wearing the rucksack. She pulled the straps off again and carried it through, passing it down to Jed once she was in the cavern. She quickly climbed down, knelt and rummaged in the pack, pulling out the oil lamp from one of the inside pockets. Lighting it, she handed it to Jed while she retrieved a piece of chalk. Holding the lamp high, they walked around the cavern, noting the marks they had previously made on the walls indicating the openings they had explored.
“Let’s keep going in order,” Conn suggested, “or we’ll never keep track of which ones we’ve been down.”
The first two fissures they tried were dead-ends, ending in solid rock after about fifty feet. The third crack in the cavern wall, like last time, opened unexpectedly into a wider tunnel. Conn estimated it was roughly opposite the original tunnel she had followed from her house and barn.
“Do you miss your pa?” Jed asked, his voice echoing a little as they walked.
“Yeah,” Conn sighed. “But… it’s more than just missing him. We don’t know for sure if he’s alive. I think that’s the hard part for my mother.”
They walked on for several minutes as the tunnel twisted right and left until Conn had lost all sense of direction. “Do you remember your mother?” she asked.
“A little,” Jed said. “I was five when she died. Got sick. She used to make us go to church and she read the Bible after supper. Pa was better then…”
Conn could hear the wistful note in his voice. “He must miss her, too,” she said.
“I guess he does.”
Jed stopped abruptly. Squatting down, he held the lamp out in front of him. The
floor had ended at the edge of a large pool of water. Off to their left, another tunnel opened onto this same pool. He set the lamp down and slipped the rope off his shoulder, tying one end tightly around his waist. He kicked off his shoes and rolled up the legs of his overalls. Tying the laces of his shoes together, he draped them around his neck.
“You keep hold of this end of the rope,” he said. “I’m gonna see how deep it is.”
“Are you sure?” Conn asked nervously.
“If it drops off, I can swim,” Jed reassured her. “The rope is just in case.”
“Okay.” Conn reluctantly, wrapping the rope behind her waist and feeding it out little by little as Jed waded into the ice cold water.
“It’s not even up to my knees,” he said as he carefully probed the stone floor of the pool with each step. Nearing the other side, he said, “Come on. It’s colder than a witch’s – uh… it’s not deep.”
Conn kicked off her Keds and waded in, holding the oil lamp high. She had never felt such cold water. Within seconds, her feet and legs felt as if thousands of needles were pricking them. By the time she got across the pool, Jed had his shoes back on and was coiling the rope again. Conn brushed her feet dry and tied up her sneakers.
“Ready?” she asked, holding the lantern out in front of her and leading the way as the tunnel began to twist, with occasional drops in elevation.
“Do you have any idea where this is taking us?” Conn asked after what felt like a very long time.
“Nope.”
Small rivulets of water chased along with them as they descended. Conn stopped so suddenly that Jed ran into her. The tunnel had forked, the left hand fork disappearing into blackness along with all the water, while the right hand fork angled upward in what looked like a crudely hewn staircase. They could hear water falling to their left.
“It sounds like a long way down,” Jed whispered.
“Let’s go up,” Conn suggested.
They clambered up the rocks, some of the steps so steep that they had to set the lantern above them and use hands and feet to scramble up to the next level. A thin shaft of daylight appeared above them and became brighter the higher they climbed.
The tunnel flattened out without warning and they found themselves standing inside some type of shed. The sunlight they had seen was filtering in through cracks between the rock face and the rough board walls of the shed which seemed to have been built so that the rock formed the back wall. The shed was filled with rakes, pieces of broken plows, old wooden buckets and barrels and an assortment of old hand tools hanging from nails pounded randomly into the three wooden walls. Across the assorted junk, Conn and Jed could see the outline of a door.
“Be careful,” Jed cautioned as they began climbing over the clutter filling the shed. “This stuff is rusty.”
When they got to the door, he pushed down on the old-fashioned iron latch and shoved with his shoulder. It wouldn’t budge.
“I think it’s padlocked from the outside,” Conn said, pointing to a second metal latch visible across the gap of the door jamb. Looking around, she spied a board on one side of the shed that had warped so that its bottom end had pulled loose from its nails. “Let’s see if we can get out that way.”
They picked their way carefully over to that wall and pushed against the loose board. It gave way some as long as someone kept pressure against it. “I think it’s big enough,” Jed said. He squatted down and wriggled his way through while Conn pushed as hard as she could to widen the opening for him. Once he was outside, Conn shrugged off the rucksack and handed it and the extinguished oil lamp out to him, and then began to squeeze through the gap as Jed pulled on the board from the outside.
“Ouch!” One of the nails protruding from the bottom of the board had caught her left shin, carving a deep gouge in her leg. Moving more carefully, she wriggled the rest of the way through and emerged outside the shed.
“Damn,” Jed muttered as he squatted down to inspect the cut on Conn’s leg. The blood was running freely down her shin.
“I’m fine,” Conn said stoutly, stuffing the oil lamp back into a pocket of the rucksack. “Where are we?” she asked, looking around.
Jed stood up and surveyed their surroundings. “Criminy,” he breathed, crouching low as he recognized the small house sheltered in a nearby copse of hemlocks. His eyes widened suddenly.
“Run!” he yelled.
Just as he hollered, there was an enormous boom and a large belch of smoke rose from the trees. A load of buckshot hit the rock face behind them, and Conn was peppered with bits of rock. Jed took off running. Conn tried to follow, but with her first step, there was a searing pain in her left leg and it collapsed under her. She lay on the ground, staring in terror at the figure emerging from the deep shadows of the hemlocks.
CHAPTER 20
An old woman stepped into the sunlight, wearing faded dungarees and a men’s shirt with the shirtsleeves rolled up to her elbows. The sunshine glinted off her short silvery hair as she drew near, keeping her shotgun trained on Conn as she approached.
“What are you doing on my property?” she called out while still a distance away.
Conn lay on the ground, gaping helplessly as the woman drew near. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I didn’t know I was on your property.”
The old woman’s sharp black eyes took in the bloody cut on Conn’s leg. “You’re Elizabeth’s daughter,” she said, a little more gently.
“And you’re Miss Molly Peregorn,” Conn returned, her voice a little stronger as her racing heart began to slow.
Molly broke the shotgun open and set it on the ground as she squatted next to Conn. “Let me see that leg,” she said, laying her gnarled hands on Conn’s shin and gently prizing the edges of the wound apart to see how deep it went. “Can’t tell until it’s clean, but this looks like it goes all the way into the muscle. Let’s get you into the house,” she said. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” Conn said, getting to her feet and taking a tentative step. If she moved slowly, she could hobble, though it hurt like crazy. Molly picked up her shotgun and carried it hung over the crook of one elbow as she took Conn’s rucksack in her other hand.
As they stepped into the dark shade of the hemlock grove, Conn could feel the sudden coolness. The house she had barely been able to see from where she had fallen was a cottage, ornately decorated with lots of gingerbread adorning the eaves and the portico. Conn suppressed a nervous giggle as she thought of the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel.
Painfully, Conn climbed the porch stairs and gasped in wonder as she entered. Nearly every square inch of wall space and most of the furniture was covered with sketches and paintings – some framed, most not. Several chairs had stretched canvases stacked six or seven deep.
An old black and white Border collie struggled to his feet with a half-hearted bark at their entrance. He was missing most of one ear which gave him a grizzled appearance, but his tail wagged as he came to greet them.
“Hush, Vincent,” said Molly.
He followed them stiffly into the kitchen where the woman pulled out a chair for Conn. She repositioned another chair and said, “Prop your leg up here.”
Vincent sat next to Conn, laying his head in her lap as Molly gathered bowls and clean cloths.
“Who was that with you?” Molly asked as she poured some water into one of the bowls and spooned a yellow powder into it.
“Jed Pancake,” Conn replied, watching Miss Molly as she stirred the powder in, turning the liquid brown.
“Sam Pancake’s boy?” Molly asked sharply. “Not very brave is he? Leaving you on the ground while he skedaddled.”
“Well,” Conn said, rubbing Vincent’s soft head, “getting shot at would have made me run, too, if I could have.”
Molly stared at her for a few seconds and then she burst into laughter. “Yes, well… sorry about that. I’ve had some troublemakers around here, so I’ve learned to shoot first, ask questions later. Keeps most f
olks away,” she added pointedly with a slight lift of one eyebrow.
Conn looked at her skeptically. “Isn’t that a little dangerous? What if you’d hit us?”
Molly pulled up another chair and sat. “If I’d wanted to hit you, I’d have hit you.” She dipped one of her cloths in the brown liquid and swabbed the gash on Conn’s leg.
Conn caught her breath as the liquid burned and stung, but she didn’t complain or pull away.
“Good girl. Not many can take the sting without yelling.”
“What is it?” Conn asked, blinking to stop her eyes watering. Vincent licked her hand as if trying to comfort her. “It smells like turpentine.”
Molly chuckled. “Just a little something I mix up to disinfect. And it does have pine tar in it.”
As the burning subsided a little, Conn said, “Jed is working with Mr. Greene on the Peregorn barn. That’s not yours, is it?”
Molly shook her head. “My brother has the family place.” She jerked her head. “Over yonder.” She continued dabbing at Conn’s leg. “I prefer the witch’s house,” she smiled.
Molly sat back and looked at her. “What were you and Jed doing in that shed?” she asked. “How did you get in there?”
Conn wondered how honest to be. Looking into Miss Molly’s dark eyes, she had the feeling that the older woman already knew the answer. “We came through the tunnel.”
Molly nodded. “I thought so.” She looked at Conn appraisingly. “I didn’t know anyone knew about the tunnel.”
“I discovered it by accident,” Conn said. She wondered if Miss Molly knew about all the tunnels.
Molly pulled a small crock near and lifted the lid to reveal a thick black paste. She dipped her fingers into it and spread a dollop of the gooey stuff over the cut. To Conn’s surprise, the pain immediately diminished.
“Better?”
“Yes, Miss Molly,” said Conn gratefully.
Molly picked up a rolled up cloth and began to bandage Conn’s leg. “Doc Jenkins would have wanted to put stitches in that, but I think you’ll heal up just fine,” she said as she wrapped the cloth neatly up Conn’s skinny leg. “There,” she said, surveying her handiwork as she applied a long piece of duct tape to keep the bandage in place. “I think that’ll do.”
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