Promise Bridge Part 19

I stared up at him, afraid but still defiant. "Seek and cleanse your own sins."

"The sins of the parent are pa.s.sed to the child," he said with mock amus.e.m.e.nt. I thought he was talking about his mother and Uncle Mooney until he continued. "Let me rinse you clean of your parents' sin."

"Are you drunk, Twitch?" I tried standing, but his grip kept me in submission. "You are not making any sense."

"I am drunk with satisfaction," he snorted. "Satisfaction that a b.a.s.t.a.r.d like me is held in higher regard than Southern traitors."

"What are you talking about?"

He knelt down to get closer. "I met someone who knew your ma and pa. He knew 'em real good. He was there the night they was killed."

I sank back on my heels. So little was ever said about my mother and father or the accident that took their lives. Fear was replaced with intrigue as I waited for Twitch to continue. He was eager to oblige me.

"The man I met is from Kentucky and is a slave catcher from way back. He told me about a young couple named Blessing who were known to harbor runaways. They were abolitionist lawbreakers, and they had a baby girl who was s.h.i.+pped off to kin after they were killed."

I shook my head with confusion. "My father was a Baptist preacher."

"Oh, he was a preacher all right," Twitch growled. "Preachin' the word of Northern sympathizers. No wonder Augusta disowned your mama. Ain't no shame lower than lovin' a darky."

"This man you speak of . . . he saw the wagon accident?"

"He said it weren't no accident." He smiled, gleaning pleasure in each piece of devastating news delivered. "Said him and a group of patrollers was chasin' down a pa.s.sel of runaways makin' tracks toward the Ohio River. They trailed 'em as far as your folks' property. The patrollers surrounded the place, but your ma and pa took off in a buckboard with the darkies hidden under a blanket in the back. The posse followed on horseback, and when they caught up with 'em a few miles down the road, your pa wouldn't stop the wagon. He kept pus.h.i.+n' on toward the river. So this fellow decided it was time to put an end to your folks' interference by forcin' 'em off the road and into a gully. The wagon turned over three times, killing the whole lot on the spot, except your ma. She lay there with her eyes open, whispering words of prayer that her child would be protected and cared for. They spat on her moaning body, then threw the crushed runaways up over their horses. They didn't mind none, 'cuz a dead runaway brings the same reward as a live one. By the time they rode off, your ma was dead too."

Satisfied with the damage he wrought, Twitch let go of my wrist and let me fall back into the gra.s.s. I curled like a hedgehog protecting itself from a predator, and did not relax until Twitch lost interest in my suffering and walked off. I lay motionless in the meadow, detached from the flurry of the songbirds feasting on the berries strewn around me from my overturned basket.

Chapter 27.

Livie came looking for me when I did not come down for dinner. I could not eat while I was still digesting the story Twitch had fed me in the meadow. I feigned sleep until she tucked my blanket around me, then left me to my slumber. I crawled out of bed and sat at my window, watching the moon rise out of the shadows. When Livie returned in the morning, she found me asleep on my window bench. She nudged me gently.

"Mama?"

I did not realize what I had said until Livie's puzzled face took form in my sleepy gaze. "Tell me what's troublin' you, Hannah," Livie said, sitting down next to me. "Somethin' happened yesterday; I can feel it in my bones."

We had not shared confidences since the hurt I had caused her, so I hesitated. When she put her arm around me to rea.s.sure, the story came spilling out of me along with a flow of tears, both hers and mine. She brought a basin of cool water to splash on my cheeks, keeping a tender hand of support on my back. Much of my confusion was sorted out after revealing it to Livie. No longer overwhelmed with emotion, I was reborn. So many questions in my life now had answers.

"No one ever speaks of them," I said after patting my face dry. "Especially Aunt Augusta. The shame and anger she must harbor toward my mother explains the cool distance she maintains with me. My presence is threatening to her. If my parents' activities were ever revealed, the scandal would put a black mark on Aunt Augusta's reputation. She would be humiliated and possibly ostracized. She and my mother may have been complete opposites in their beliefs, but as my only living relative, Aunt Augusta was saddled with my guardians.h.i.+p. No wonder she hates me so."

"She does not hate you, Hannah. I know that fo' certain."

"Everything is so clear to me," I said with grounded confidence. "Mabelle let it slip a couple of times but was hushed quiet, once by Granny Morgan, then by Aunt Augusta. She told me my parents were a blessing, just like our name, and she said I remind her of them."

"Come with me," Livie said, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room.

"Where are we going?"

"Stay quiet," she whispered as we tiptoed past Aunt Augusta's closed bedroom door. "We is goin' to the root cellar to talk with ol' Mabelle."

Mabelle had been cared for by Granny Morgan since the flood. Granny said most days Mabelle drifted in and out of consciousness. We were not optimistic about her recovery because of Mabelle's advanced age and the severity of her head injury. Still, Granny was grateful James had s.n.a.t.c.hed Mabelle before she was swept down river to a watery grave. Mabelle's rescue gave Granny the opportunity to tend to her beloved sister during her final days.

Livie cracked open the kitchen door a sliver, so we could see Granny poking at the fire under her cook pot. "Um, um," Granny said, not realizing she had an audience. "Another log might smolder you high enough to do some good." She waddled out of the back door toward the woodshed, giving us the chance to scurry across the kitchen and down the steps to the root cellar. The glow of a small grease lamp lit the dank room filled with baskets of potatoes, turnips, and a host of other vegetables and fruits. In the far corner was Granny's bed, where Mabelle lay sleeping.

"The quarters is always abuzzin' with gossip o' one sort or another," Livie whispered as we crept to Mabelle's side. "Some true; some ain't. Mostly I pay no mind to none of it, but I heared somethin' once about this ol' gal that's got me a-wonderin'."

"What did you hear?" I said, kneeling with her at Mabelle's bedside.

"I was pa.s.sin' by Pepper Lee's fire one night on my way to see James shortly after the shuckin', and he said, clear as a cricket, 'Poor Mabelle may be blind, but I hear she is the only one o' us dat sees de road north.' The folks at the fire laughed real hard and said Pepper Lee was full o' mola.s.ses, but maybe Mabelle got some knowin' while she be livin' in town."

"Who dat thar?" Mabelle's voice was weak and her breathing labored, but her vacant eyes sparkled from the shadows.

I placed my hand over hers for recognition. "It's Hannah. I am here with Livetta."

"What you want with a dyin' ol' woman, chile?"

"Is it true my parents were killed while aiding some runaways?"

"Lord, how did you find out?" The question pulled Mabelle out of her fog, although her voice remained feeble and barely audible. "Folk round here know better than to tell you such a thing."

"I want to know more, Mabelle."

The pause was so long, I thought she had slipped back into unconsciousness, but with a startling hitch in her breath, she spoke again. "Dey was sent by G.o.d, dey was. Yo' papa's notions got him run off to Kentuck, and your mama followed afta him. Dey woulda hanged 'em both from the highest tree in the Ridge if dey stayed here. Yo' mama made a beautiful quilt and sent it back to Miz 'Gusta as a peace offerin'. But Miz 'Gusta made certain she displayed outrage fo' all de town to see when she throwed dat quilt to de slaves. Dey been makin' dat quilt ever since. You see, yo' mama's quilt had de signs sewn into de design." Her chuckle was choked by a heavy cough. I rubbed Mabelle's arm until she caught her breath. "Jes' follow de signs through de mountains. It was right under dere noses all along. Both my boys is free now."

"I thought they were sold to a landowner in Mississippi."

"Dat what dey want folks to think." She smiled. "Better to say dey was sold south than have empty fields trampled by de feet of slaves followin' my boys to de Promised Land."

I looked at Livie, whose eyes were wide with amazement at Mabelle's revelations. She leaned over to me and whispered, "If this is true, then why isn't every slave in the county long gone?"

Mabelle winced at the doubt in Livie's voice. "n.o.body knows about de signs unless dey open dere ears to de songs I sing, and sees what a blind woman sees. Some folks believe de only Promised Land fo' coloreds is in de sweet by-and-by. But de land o' milk and honey 'tain't that far away. But only dem with de ears to hear and de heart bold enough to believe is delivered. 'Tain't common know-how. It's a secret you gots'ta search fo'; that way Ma.s.sa can't see. Ma.s.sa can't stop nothin' he can't see. If de ache fo' freedom is deep in a soul, den de words o' de spirituals speaks to 'em and tells 'em what to do."

"Who down thar!" Granny Morgan stepped heavy on the steps, causing Livie and me to jump to our feet. "Miz Hannah, this ain't no place fo' you. Filled with dust and death. Miz 'Gusta will have my hide if you catch a germ down here."

"We are visiting with Mabelle."

"Pay no mind to a blind woman's tall tales," Granny said, shooing us up the stairs. "Her head is knocked senseless. Now, leave her with what little strength she got left."

I could barely contain myself until we got back to my room. Once behind closed doors, I clapped my hands with the exuberance of a child and threw myself on the bed, laughing and kicking. Echo Ridge's elite were outwitted by those they believed lowlier than animals crawling in the dirt. So sly, so secretive, so defiantly brave.

"You can't go on about it, girl," Livie said, growing serious. "It's dangerous fo' you and everyone else."

I understood her concern, but was swept up in elation. "Don't fret, Livie. I am not going to sing it from the rooftops."

The revelation redefined the world around me, as did the secret Twitch attempted to use as a weapon to wound me. He meant to crush me with this dark secret, but now I was overjoyed. He had given me the key to my past and a glimpse of who I was and where I came from. "I finally have something to sink my roots into. A legacy left by my parents that I can be proud of."

Livie's eyes softened with tenderness. She tucked a dangling strand of hair behind my ear and brushed a finger from cheek to chin. "You always had it rooted in you, girl. Look at what you did fo' me."

"But it's not enough," I said with quiet conviction. "You are still here, living as a slave. I have selfishly hoped you would never leave. I love you, Livie, but you are not mine to keep. I must help you move on to a life of freedom. Only then do I deserve to be called friend friend."

Aunt Augusta noted the change in me immediately. I held my chin high and no longer shrank in her presence. I was amused by her attempts at intimidation, although I was careful to hide my reaction. In the following days, I a.n.a.lyzed our Runians to see if I could detect an undercurrent of knowledge in anyone's behavior. I spent hours in the sewing room, wrapped in the quilts born of my mother's cleverness. I thought about the many quilts cast off by Aunt Augusta because of st.i.tching errors, and wondered if the slave girls were purposeful in their efforts, knowing the quilts would be turned out to the slaves. I saw conspiracy everywhere until Livie pointed out the obvious.

"If all o' Mud Run had hint of a freedom trail, there would be nothin' but empty shacks and overgrown fields to show for it. I been here mo' than a year and I ain't heared nothin' of the sort. Why would ol' Mabelle stay with Ma.s.sa Watkins if she could be in the Promised Land with her sons? Don't make no sense at all."

"Maybe she could not risk it because she was blind," I speculated.

"Or maybe it's jes' a yarn she tells herself to soften the blow of losin' her only chilluns to the auction block."

We did not get the chance to ask Mabelle any more questions about her revelation. She died early the next morning, on the first day of September. Aunt Augusta had her buried in the slave graveyard, where Granny wept and bid her farewell. "See you on de other side, sister. We will all join hands in de land o' milk and honey."

Runians young and old gathered for the funeral, held in the evening after the day's work was complete. Winston spoke reverently of the "simple singer of songs," and although Aunt Augusta nodded respectfully, I smiled, knowing she was clueless to his innuendo. Uncle Mooney permitted a small group of his elder slaves to attend as the sun sank behind the mountains in the distance. I sat in the carriage with Aunt Augusta a short distance from the gathering in our usual spot for such occasions. Twitch sat impatiently on his horse in the field opposite us, pa.s.sing the time by staring in my direction. I kept my bonnet pulled low, not giving him the pleasure of my discomfort. As fate would have it, when Mabelle was lowered into the ground, tears bit at the corners of my eyes, so I s.h.i.+fted away from the sadness and found myself looking in Twitch's direction. He was waiting for a chance to catch my eye and pa.s.s me a vile message. Twitch dropped a hand to his belt buckle and gave it a slow tug. I looked away, but his dirty stare lingered in my mind.

I had a fitful night of tossing in my bed. So much had been revealed to me, only to raise other questions. Twitch had become so brazen that my heightened instincts grew razor sharp at the threat he presented to me. With a head filled with mournful spirituals and glimpses of Twitch s.h.i.+fting in his saddle, I finally fell into a deep slumber, until an intuitive sensation stirred me before dawn. My eyes searched the darkened room. I held my breath to peruse the uneasy stillness. A floorboard creaked in the far corner near the window. My heart sprang to a gallop. It punched so hard against my chest, I thought it would burst through my thin cotton gown. Was I dreaming? Movement in the shadows hastened my breath. If Twitch expected to find me lying here, helpless to his a.s.sault, then he underestimated my potent will. I would meet him straight on and fight. "Reveal yourself, whoever you are."

The figure pounced on me before I sat upright, the weight of him pinning me down. His gruff hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. Hot, panting breath blew against my neck and the scratch of whiskers rubbed raw against my cheek.

"Quiet!" the voice commanded in a tone just above a whisper. "Calm down, and quit kickin'!"

Every inch of me flailed to break free. The curve of the face in the darkness leaned closer to me. I twisted my head from his mouth, but the hand squeezed my jaw to keep me from turning away. Oddly, the approaching lips did not seek mine. They brushed along my cheek and hovered at my ear.

"Girl, you is harder to hold on to than a spooked mare."

Marcus! Shadows cast by the moonlight fell across his face as he lifted his head to reveal his sparkling eyes. Each of us trembled in the darkness, pressed so close a blade of gra.s.s could not have fallen between us. Shadows cast by the moonlight fell across his face as he lifted his head to reveal his sparkling eyes. Each of us trembled in the darkness, pressed so close a blade of gra.s.s could not have fallen between us.

"Hush now, girl," he said, lifting his hand from my mouth. "Didn't mean to harm you. I jes' didn't want you to wake the house before seein' it was me."

"You frightened me," I whispered as he eased upright. "I thought it was . . . Oh, Marcus." I raised and touched my fingertips to his cheek. "Thank G.o.d you made it back."

"We ain't got much time," he said, beckoning me from my bed. "The end is near fo' some decent folk if we don't move quick. Take me to Livetta."

I rushed to my wardrobe to throw on a dress. "Wear somethin' dark in color," he said, turning away to protect my privacy. "So it's easier to move in the night without notice."

We wisped through the house and out the back door in silence. Moonlight bathed over us as I took his hand and led him across the yard. We ran down the hill and under the tree cover of Mud Run. If not for the urgency, I would have enjoyed antic.i.p.ating Livie's reaction when I delivered Marcus to her door. Accompanied by a chorus of tree frogs, we hurried along the rows of slumbering cabins. As we ran, I pointed to where Livie's cabin peeked through the hickories. When we reached her doorstep, Marcus gently intercepted my hand before I could knock.

"Let me take cover behind them shrubs over yonder, in case anyone else in the quarters stirs. Can't chance bein' seen."

I nodded, then paused long enough for him to scoot behind the huckleberry bushes growing off the rear corner of the cabin. When Marcus was out of sight, I tapped on Livie's door. I heard no activity within, so I knocked harder. I heard the sound of mumbling voices, followed by the thump of bare feet crossing the floor.

"Miz Hannah?" James squinted through sleepy eyes. "What's wrong? Is dere trouble up at de big house?"

"Livie's brother is here," I said in a cautious undertone while waving my hand for Marcus to join us. "We must come in."

James stepped back inside the cabin to let me pa.s.s, all the while eyeballing Marcus as he came around the corner behind me. Several pine knots smoldered in the hearth, casting a dim light across the room where Livie was crawling out of bed.

"Hannah, what is you doin' down here this time o' . . ." Livie froze as Marcus appeared in her doorway. She c.o.c.ked her head to the right and peered out of uncertain eyes. I feared she would cry out, but an aura of caution enveloped her. She took one tentative step toward Marcus, followed by another. I stepped back so Livie could get a good look at him, and when he smiled, she leapt into his arms.

Marcus held on to Livie as she sobbed against his chest. With tears glistening in his eyes, he reached over and shook James's hand. Overcome by her brother's return, Livie was steadied by Marcus and me as we settled at the table, where we talked in hushed voices. We were thrilled by the sight of him, and our eyes did not blink while Marcus told Livie about his escape to the North and his first steps on free soil.

"My feet didn't feel no different, but my heart sure enough did," he said with a huge grin. "And I aim to lay tracks for anyone who wants to do the same."

My heart raced when he told of near capture by patrollers to the south. Tears rolled down my cheeks as he wept for those lost to the rigors of the journey. Within me, a wildfire of admiration grew in intensity with each word Marcus uttered. The sensation was disconcerting, but quickly subsided when I realized Marcus's appearance meant Livie and I would soon say good-bye.

"Are we leavin' tonight?" Livie asked, squeezing up and down Marcus's arm, as though still needing physical proof of his return.

"Can't leave yet. Things took a mighty strange turn a couple o' days ago when I was takin' five runaways as far as the mountain pa.s.s to the west. Once I got them on their way, I was gonna double back fo' Livetta." Marcus paused and looked over at James. "And her man, if he chooses."

James put his hand on Livie's shoulder and nodded. "We is a family. Me and Livetta is gonna build a home together up north and watch our chile grow up free."

Livie took his hand with a nod of agreement, then looked to me with soft confession. Our time together was nearing its end. The twinge in my breast gave me premonition of my coming heartbreak. Emotion pressed between us until Marcus continued his story.

"Jes' after sunup two mornings past, we was settlin' in the loft of a barn out in the foothills. The barn belongs to . . . well, let's jes' say a friend friend. The building sits directly across the road from a livery stable, so I was keepin' safe watch from the loft when a big buck rode in on a wagon. He stopped at the livery to fix a broken shoe on one o' the horses. Said his ma.s.sa was waitin' fo' him down at the inn yonder, havin' breakfast and a hot bath. The livery boy come out to help 'em 'cuz n.o.body else was around. From outta nowhere, a white man showed up with a gun and tol' them to get on round back. I thought the white man was a paddy roller, but turned out he was a slave wrangler. The buck put his hands high in the air, and says he is on Ma.s.sa's business. His hands was shakin' when he reached in his coat pocket and gave the wrangler the day pa.s.s his ma.s.sa signed fo' him, so he wouldn't have no trouble. The white man yanked the pa.s.s outta that slave's hand and shoved it in his own pocket, laughin' and sayin' he don't see no papers. Then he hit that buck upside the head with the barrel of his shotgun. The slave started a-beggin', ' 'Please don't steal me off. I gots a wife and chilluns back on Ma.s.sa's plantation.' But the wrangler pressed his gun to the po' boy's head and say his chilluns is gonna have a dead daddy if he don't move around back. Then he pointed his gun at the livery boy, who stood there tremblin' like a lost pup. He marched them behind the livery, and in three blinks, a closed wagon come rollin' out. The cries of them men, plus one or two more, called from inside the wagon as it rode off. I decided then and there to let the ones I was with move north on their own so I could follow the wrangler and save them men from a fate worse than hangin'. He rode in north o' town here, but I lost his trail in the dark."

When Marcus paused, a sick notion nudged me. "Did the man who stole the slaves have only one eye?"

Marcus's head jerked up. "Like somebody dug one out with an ice pick."

"Ma.r.s.e," James grumbled. "That's why he got me makin' him all those chains befo' he goes on his trips. I figured he sold the ironwork fo' extra money."

"You know this varmint?"

"He's the overseer fo' Ma.s.sa Reynolds' place over yonder," Livie said, motioning in the direction of West Gate. "James has felt the cut of his whip mo' than once."

Marcus's expression was keen with excitement. "Have you seen any new faces in the stock over there? Maybe Dead Eye said he bought 'em."

James shook his head. "Ain't n.o.body new around here. He brags on catchin' runaways and returnin' dem fo' hefty reward money. He comes home with an empty wagon, far as I know."

"But what if the wagon ain't empty? Maybe he steals colored folk and hangs on to 'em long enough fo' their ma.s.sa to post 'em as runaways."

"And if n.o.body comes lookin' fo' them," James added. "Ma.r.s.e can auction 'em off in Kentucky. n.o.body round here would know nothin'."

Marcus paced as he considered the possibility. "It be hard to keep a pa.s.sel of slaves quiet and out o' sight. Where would he keep them fo' a spell without folks takin' notice?"

Suddenly, a thought sparked in my mind. "The shed!" Saying it aloud made me all the more certain I was right. They looked at me, puzzled, not knowing what I meant. "Remember the runaway, Livie? The man you thought was Marcus?"

"That's right!" Marcus said, slapping his hands together. "You tol' me about him when I pa.s.sed through in the winter."

"There is a shed in the back lot of Twitch's quarters," I explained to Livie and James. "Next to his hounds."

"Have mercy," James muttered. "I always wondered why n.o.body but w.i.l.l.y Jack could wander back there."

"The man got caught up in some brambles. When I helped untangle him, he told me he wanted to go home."