Promise Bridge Part 5

"Why not?" Livie countered. "I is doin' jes' fine here. Never ate so good in all my life. Back with Ma.s.sa, there was times when my belly was so empty, I could have ate the soles off my shoes." Livie laughed as she stuck out her heels to show off the frayed rags tied around her feet. "But I never had a bite's worth of sole to eat." Livie chuckled so hard she had to hold her hip to keep from crying in pain. I, on the other hand, was mortified at how much this poor girl had stacked against her. Yet from the smile on her face, you would never know it.

"Livetta," Colt continued. "Once Augusta returns, Hannah will be restricted from running up and down the mountain to feed and look after you."

"I can fend fo' myself till Marcus gets back."

"I don't think the two of you understand how long he will be, if ever he does return."

"Colt . . ."

"I am being practical, Hannah. Their chance of making it north alive is slim enough, but his chance of returning here is even slimmer. I am sorry, Livetta, but it's the cold, hard truth."

I reached over and patted Livie's hand. "Marcus will make it back, Livie. I just know it."

"Fine, then," Colt pressed. "Let us say he makes it back, against all odds. Are you aware of how much time will pa.s.s while he is navigating such a journey?"

It was a thought I had yet to consider. Even with a reasonable amount of education and some travel experience, I had no sensible estimation of how far the journey was to the North. And with Livetta's limited exposure beyond the boundaries of plantation life, she had less understanding of it than I. My wordless stare cued Colt to continue.

"Well, it's not like taking a five-day carriage ride to c.u.mberland Gap. They are traveling by foot . . . in the dark . . . guided only by the stars of a clear night. We have no way of knowing what hards.h.i.+ps they will face along the way, but you can be sure there will be plenty. Once they are north, they still must go far enough to find a place where they are truly safe. And don't forget the winter months, when it's nearly impossible to travel. So, the three of us must be prepared. If Marcus succeeds where most fail, it could be a year or more before he steps foot on Echo Ridge again."

Livie's hand tightened over mine with the realization provoked by Colt's words. I lowered my head to spare her my sullen change of expression. The thought of Livie leaving was unbearable, yet I realized keeping her hidden and safe was not possible. Crazy thoughts filled my head, like hiding her in the vacant cabin at Mud Run or stealing a wagon and taking her north myself. Or maybe . . .

"I have an idea" popped out of my mouth. "I shall buy her!"

Livie took her hand from mine and leaned her blotchy elbows on her knees. Pressing her forehead into the palms of her hands, Livie shook her head from side to side. "Ma.s.sa won't never partake in such a deal. He be afraid the others would think I got over on him and make him look a fool. If he finds out I am here he will grab me up fo' sure. Ma.s.sa would rather tan a colored hide to save face, even if it means gold coins left on the table. He will gladly pay fo' the pleasure of vengeance on the poor soul who got over on him. Ma.s.sa burned the feet of his prize field hand when he ran off to be with his woman after their chile died while birthin'. Ma.s.sa made him stand in boilin' water clear up to his knees. That sorry slave was never good fo' nothin' again. It's a mighty spiteful streak that drives a man to render the best of his lot worthless. Worst be told, it took nearly two years fo' that poor soul's agony to end. One night, he got his hands on a suckering knife and slit his own throat. Marcus said they found him with a smile on his face."

If Colt was as mortified as I, it was not reflected in his stony expression. He simply propped his boot on a rock in front of him and tugged thoughtfully at his ear. "It would be hard explaining to Augusta," he mumbled to himself. "But maybe there is something to be made from Hannah's idea."

"Gracious be, Colt," I said with piqued curiosity. "What are you contemplating?"

"Well, what if I took a day trip and returned with Livetta in hand? I could profess to own her."

"Is it possible, Colt?"

"I think it's worth attempting. Livetta may have a chance if our explanation is believable and the papers look authentic."

I shuddered at the boldness of the suggestion. "Do you know what you are saying? We would be bringing a runaway right under the nose of Twitch and Aunt Augusta. It's entirely outrageous."

"Exactly," Colt said with a sly grin. "A plan so outrageous no one would suspect it. They would have no reason to question my truthfulness. I will wait for Augusta's return. If I ride in before the dust of her carriage has time to settle, the commotion and fanfare of her arrival will keep scrutiny at a minimum."

"The risks are enormous." I put my hand to my breast in hope it would slow my surging heart. I was terrified of the consequences likely to rain down on us if we failed; however, I was equally intrigued by the possibility of Livie staying at Hillcrest with me.

"Of course it's a precarious choice," Colt stressed. "But I believe there is greater risk in roaming the countryside with your injuries. What do you think, Livetta?"

Livie had licked her plate clean and set it aside. She stretched her stiff legs in front of her and gently tested their mobility as she considered her options. She c.o.c.ked her head toward me and drew in a deep, confident breath, punctuated with a nod of her head.

"Well, as sure as flies sit on a dead mare, the likes o' me is likely to be boiled one way or the other. But so far, Miss Hannah's done right by me. Now, ya'll may think Marcus is a know-nothin' fool fo' sayin' he's gonna come back fo' me, but my brother's word is stronger than a hundred-year-ol' oak. So I'd best stay put. Anyway, if there's boilin' to be done, I jes' as soon it be done here with you than out in the woods with strangers."

Colt stood and brushed the dust from the back of his pantaloons. "There's much to be done. Hannah, see to it that Livetta crosses the river tonight at the Horse's Bend. Can you swim?"

Livie shook her head with some hesitation.

"It will be a clear night with the glow of a full moon, so it won't be a blind crossing. Once you are on the other side, head downstream using the heavy trees along the river for cover. You must move with extra caution when you see the candlelit windows of town on the opposite bank."

"How on earth is Livie supposed to make it across the river and downstream with a lame hip? It's much too dangerous."

"I know this is not an easy venture, but it's the only way. Livetta, you must keep moving as long as possible under the cover of night, but when you see the first hint of daybreak, you should stop and stay out of sight until darkness comes again. South of town, you will come to three large boulders wedged side by side, each a different shade of gray. I will wait for you there. Now, I better get on back to West Gate so I can set in motion some practical reason for making a short trip."

Colt walked toward the cave entrance and then turned before exiting. "Hannah, after tonight, it is important you are seen in your normal routine at Hillcrest. When Augusta returns, simply let things unfold as they will." Colt then directed a serious gaze toward Livie. "Livetta, do the best you can. I shall wait two nights for you. If you have not arrived, I will a.s.sume you were delivered a different fate."

The ticking mantel clock taunted me as I pushed my uneaten pork chops around my plate. My mind was crowded with details to sort through and ready for Livie's journey, but my nonchalance was a necessary part of the charade. Esther Mae peeked through the door to see if I had finished my meal. "Lordy, Miz Hannah, you will be paler than a mornin' glory on a rainy day if you don't eat some supper. Miz 'Gusta will have my hide if you take sick."

"Don't fret, Esther Mae. I am a wee bit tired is all. Excuse me while I take my plate to my room. I shall retire with the birds tonight."

The belligerent sun hung low in the evening sky for what seemed like an eternity, illuminating its perverse pleasure in making me wait. With growing antic.i.p.ation, my mind played out what soon would transpire in the shadowed moonlight. I could follow the path to the peak with my eyes closed. It was as natural to me as geese winging through a crisp autumn night. However, traversing the angled cliffs to the river was territory I had yet to navigate in the dark of night. But even that did not rattle me as much as the thought of what would happen once we came upon the river. Unable to wait any longer, I headed for the cave.

Livie and I cleared away all evidence of her stay. We burned the quilts and pine bed in the fire pit and stacked the unused logs against the inside wall, as if they'd been stashed by a hunter for another day. When all looked undisturbed, we flopped on the ground and rested, side by side in anxious stillness. Finally, Livie heaved a long, jittery sigh.

"I ain't had no cause for swimmin' in a mighty long time. There was a fair-sized pond at the edge of Ma.s.sa's land where we cooled off when our heads gots'ta spinnin' in the summer heat. Marcus showed me how to swim 'cuz he said someday I might need the know-how. But 'twas long ago, and I don't have much kick in this shot-up leg right now."

I wanted to rea.s.sure her, but more importantly, I wanted her to be prepared for what the Red Hawk River demanded. The Horse's Bend was a half-mile stretch of water between two fierce sets of rapids north of Echo Ridge. This slow and steady stretch of water provided Livie with her best chance at crossing. Still, the Horse's Bend had its challenges, as evidenced in its name. Legend had it that when the untamed mountain region was settled, a band of renegade Shawnee Indians chased a group of Lutheran missionaries to the river's edge. When the missionaries rode their horses into the deep current of the Red Hawk, they were sucked under midway across the river. The missionaries eventually pulled themselves up on the banks of what is now Echo Ridge, but not one of the horses ever resurfaced.

With that in mind, I used a stick against the dirt floor to sketch the flow of the river so Livie could picture in her head what she would face once she hit the water. "Now, don't forget," I said, circling a spot on the craggy diagram. "We will hike to the bottom of the first set of rapids, and you will enter the water here. You must swim hard, steady strokes toward the far sh.o.r.e as the current moves you downstream. If you swim fast enough, you will reach a large boulder called Turtleback Rock, which curves above the water halfway between the first and second set of rapids. Grab on to it and catch your breath. When you are ready, you can start a paddle sprint across the far section of the river. When you reach the other side, follow Colt's instructions downriver where he agreed to meet you. Then the second part of our plan will be put into motion."

Contrary to my earlier wish for sunset, now I prayed the sun would freeze to a standstill and remain orange in the sky rather than sink away and lead Livie into uncertain darkness. Betrayed by the natural flow around me, I watched the sun defy my wishes and disappear behind the indigo mountains on the western horizon.

Livie reached into the satchel tied around her waist and removed a strip of stained chambray cloth. I recognized it as part of her brother's neckerchief, used to stop her bleeding the day she was shot. She smoothed its length and then tied it to her ankle.

"Fo' luck," she said, looking up at me. My stomach twisted, knowing our time together was slipping away. She then pulled a tin cigar box from her satchel and handed it to me. "Take this, and keep it safe until I return."

I nodded and smiled to hide my mounting fear. We knelt over the map I had etched in the soil and traced her route one last time. Her eyes were wide and attentive, as if hearing the plan for the first time. "Try not to let the river's strength frighten you, Liv. Never fight against the current. It's a battle that is impossible to win. Flow with it and use its power to help you get where you are going."

Coaxed by the urgent hoot of an unseen owl, we gathered ourselves for our journey down to the river. I scuffed the toe of my boot across the lines in the dirt. My foot stopped at a crude stick figure Livie had carved into the drawing. Twists of familiar braids protruded from the circular head, and a wide crescent smile looped from one side to the other. I don't know if it was fear or superst.i.tion that kept my foot from smudging away that innocent expression, but I refused to brush her away into oblivion. Livie's no-nonsense practicality took over as she shuffled her ragged feet across the happy face and erased the last remnant of our time spent together on the peak.

Moonlight bathed down from the forest ceiling, illuminating our path like we were winding our way through a dream. Racc.o.o.ns and deer scampered as twigs snapped beneath our hurried feet and warned them of our approach. A hint of the day's warmth lingered in the air, giving us one less obstacle to overcome. However, I was certain it would not be a courtesy extended by the bone-chilling waters of the Red Hawk River.

The sweet fragrance of mountain laurel wafted around us as we descended the cliff to the river. Livie kept pace until the heaviness of her pained hip required her to grip the back of her thigh and pull each hard-fought step from her injured leg. Finally, the ground beneath our feet softened and gave way to the mist-covered mud along the river's edge. There, the lower end of the first set of rapids rushed into the slow, swirling currents of the Horse's Bend. Livie and I stepped from the cover of evergreen and let the bright, full moon wash over our tight, breathless bodies. I looked out across the sleek, sparkling blackness that slid bleakly past us, silent and unyielding. In contrast, the rapids feeding her north and draining her south rumbled in the darkness like a stampede of angry cattle. My breath caught in my throat when the silhouette of an uprooted tree twisted helplessly by us, carried by the river like a feather on its current. My heart sank, realizing Livie had less of a chance in the unforgiving current than the dredged tree slowly swallowed by the Red Hawk. It was the first true moment of regret I felt since meeting Livie.

"You should sit for a while, Livie. You will need all the strength you can muster once you enter the river."

Livie limped alongside of me, her dark saucer eyes entranced by the sight of the river. I wondered if she thought a lynching would be a kinder fate.

"Gots'ta keep movin'," Livie said with eyes fixed straight ahead, "so my leg don't have time to stiffen, nor my thoughts time fo' frettin'."

I rested my hand across her shoulders as much for my own rea.s.surance as I did for Livie's. The longer we waited, the harder it would be to go forward, so I drew in an anxious breath and struggled to unearth some parting words of encouragement.

"You will do fine, Livie. Remember what I told you about the strength of the river?"

"Don't fight the current." She nodded. "Jes' go along with the flow so it don't overpower me."

"Swim straight for the other side as you ride the current downstream. Swim swiftly so you make it as far as Turtleback Rock." I pointed to the dark mound a hundred yards below us. "See it down there, halfway across? Paddle straight toward the middle, and let the water drag you into the rock. Hold tight and rest until you have enough strength to swim the second half."

"Tell me true, Miss Hannah," Livie said with the uncertainty of someone about to throw herself into the unknown. "Do you think there's a chance of me reachin' the other side?"

How I wished I could keep Livie safe up on the peak. Or, at the very least, offer another option that might be more favorable than this. Here, with the river stretched before us, there was no denying the potential consequences, good and bad. This unspoken thought dropped between us like a s.h.i.+p's anchor.

"If anyone can make it, Livie, it's you."

Livie's eyes held on to mine through the darkness and would not release me. She paused, as if absorbing my words. Then a crooked grin slowly peeled the gloom from her face.

"Them is the best words yo' fine breedin' can come up with?" Her low chuckle took me by surprise. Waves of intermittent laughter came quicker, and shook deep into her belly. "You is sendin' me into a cold, watery graveyard, sayin' nothin' more than, 'If anyone can make it, it's you.' "

Livie wrapped her arms around her midsection and whooped in amus.e.m.e.nt. There was absolutely nothing funny about this moment, but the humor embraced by Livie in the face of possible death coaxed me to play along with sarcastic amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Well, what would you rather I say, girl? 'Hope you don't sink like a big' ol' rock.' Or how about, 'Don't worry, Livie. I expect the mountain water will freeze you, long before it drowns you!'"

Livie flung her hand over her mouth and stomped her feet in a futile attempt to m.u.f.fle the burst of laugher that echoed in the woods. "Well, even a nappy-haired know-nothin' like me has sense enough to say somethin' powerful like, 'Heaven's angels will carry you to the other side, Livie.'"

Her grin was broad and sincere as we stood face-to-face, less than an arm's length from one another. Our intermittent giggles slowed into a hesitant farewell. An overwhelming need to embrace her filled me in a way I had not felt in a very long time. Since losing my parents, my heart instinctively did not allow any vulnerable attachments to take root. I had grown comfortable in letting it be so. But somewhere within our bond of trust, Livie had penetrated my emotional fortress. Livie waited, as if sensing that the decision to reach out in friends.h.i.+p was mine, but the impulse to outwardly share my affection retreated back into the coc.o.o.n I had spun around me long ago. Or was I retreating from the uncharted complexities presented by our differences? Thoughts to be sorted out another time, I supposed. Now, as I gazed into Livie's clouding eyes, I knew it was time for good-bye.

"I best get on with it," Livie said with moist emotion rising along her short, curled lashes.

Hiding my fear, I blinked back tears and held the warm palm of my hand against her cool cheek. "Heaven's angels will will carry you to the other side, Livie." carry you to the other side, Livie."

Livie lowered her head, but with a gentle nudge, I lifted her chin so there was no veil between my eyes and hers. "And don't you ever call yourself a know-nothin' again, because you possess more sense and courage than anyone I have ever met. You have the same fire and determination as Marcus, and you will will make it, my friend." make it, my friend."

A wave of composure settled on Livie's face as she lifted her hand for me to grasp. Our fingers intertwined as we stood for a moment, our hands bridged between us, letting the silence speak our feelings. Then, with a burst, she let go and dashed into the river.

Livie pushed deep into the swell. She squealed with each step as the cold water rose against her warm skin. The hem of her dress swirled atop the current and tugged her in the direction of the downstream flow. Livie paused in the moonlight. My hands clenched in prayerful desperation. When she glanced over her shoulder at me, I raised my hand in one last gesture of support. Livie whirled around, took three deep breaths, and plunged into the murky water. Overcome by paralyzing dread, I dropped to my knees in hope that my thoughts could will her to the far riverbank. In the halo of the moon, something fluttered against my heel. There, tangled and spattered with mud, was the chambray neckerchief Livie had tied to her ankle for luck. An omen An omen. I popped back up on my feet and pressed the cloth against my bosom.

"Paddle, Livie," I called as her arms slapped over her head in frantic strokes toward the opposite sh.o.r.e. For each body length she gained across, she lost four or five downstream. Her injured leg was not giving her the kick she needed to plow forward with any degree of gain. Over-matched by the river's surge, Livie's frail frame bobbed along its surface like a leaf washed away in a storm. The shadowy profile of Turtleback Rock loomed like an unreachable mirage in the distance.

"Faster, Livie! Faster!" I screamed, no longer caring if the echo of my voice fell on dangerous ears. However, my cries did nothing to change the fact that Livie had not gotten far enough to be within reach of the rock needed for respite.

"Grab on, Livie!" I cried out as she flailed her arms toward the elusive boulder. Its aloof shadow hung far enough from her fingertips to release a long, heart-wrenching cry from the pit of my stomach. "Nooooo!"

I sank to the ground with a gasp when Livie's outstretched hand fell short of the pa.s.sing rock, and she disappeared into the dark rapids below.

Chapter 10.

I have no recollection of my journey through the woods back to Hillcrest, but I remember well the agony coursing through me while sprawled on my bed, eyes raised and locked on the ceiling. In my mind's eye, I saw the image of Livie slipping away into the roar of the river's fury over and over again. The mantel clock stroked the hours, yet I remained imprisoned in a timeless limbo. I thought I would never escape the torment of night until mercifully the early rising catbirds wailed the coming of daybreak. Wrapped in a shawl, I settled on the front porch with hope the fresh air would clear my head. have no recollection of my journey through the woods back to Hillcrest, but I remember well the agony coursing through me while sprawled on my bed, eyes raised and locked on the ceiling. In my mind's eye, I saw the image of Livie slipping away into the roar of the river's fury over and over again. The mantel clock stroked the hours, yet I remained imprisoned in a timeless limbo. I thought I would never escape the torment of night until mercifully the early rising catbirds wailed the coming of daybreak. Wrapped in a shawl, I settled on the front porch with hope the fresh air would clear my head.

By first light, the slave force of Mud Run buzzed in frenzied preparation for the return of Aunt Augusta from her trade excursion. Oddly, their activity transcended the dutiful. Slaves from all corners of Mud Run eagerly antic.i.p.ated Aunt Augusta's return home. They seemed genuinely attached to her, as she was to them. I never heard Aunt Augusta refer to any of her slaves in derogatory or dehumanizing terms. She called the slaves of Mud Run her Runians. It was almost endearing, and was the one trait for which I respected and admired her. And even though she was a strict and demanding mistress, the Runians knew they were protected within the boundaries of her plantation.

Aunt Augusta was expected late in the afternoon, so from sunup through midday, the Runians scattered with the urgency and teamwork of an overrun anthill. They cleaned the stables, washed windows, and prepared food. All needed to be perfect, so when they gathered to meet Aunt Augusta's carriage as it pulled into the front yard, she would step down with a nod of approval, satisfied that responsibilities were not neglected in her absence. It was a subtle gesture of appreciation that the Runians embraced as affection. I envied them their value in her life.

By midday, the world was alive with plump honeybees bobbing from daisy to daisy along the pillars that framed the entrance steps of the porch. Red-breasted robins combed the emerald gra.s.s, tilting their heads close to the ground before delivering a swift peck into the turf to s.n.a.t.c.h a wriggling night crawler. Detached from the activity around me, I folded my knees up under my dress and held them tight against my chest, like a child clinging to a security blanket. Not very ladylike, but a natural impulse I indulged in, as no one was present to scold me. As the day dragged on, I grew numb with despair.

Esther Mae carried a wicker basket of freshly washed clothes to the clothesline in the side yard. My dress and stockings needed special care in scrubbing away the iron gray mud of the riverbank. Esther Mae asked no questions nor revealed any dismay over why my clothing was in such soiled condition, but for my benefit, she spent half the morning bent over the washboard, making them spotless before Aunt Augusta's return.

The rumble of wagon wheels coaxed me to my feet. The rhythm of trotting horses grew louder as Uncle Mooney's carriage appeared over the crest of the dirt road rising from West Gate. Twitch sat next to him at the reins, hunched over his knees. With a snarling howl, Twitch pulled the team to a standstill between the carriage house and the front porch.

"Good afternoon, Hannalore," Uncle Mooney said in his deep, stern voice. "I want to extend a dinner invitation to you for this evening. With Colton and Augusta having business elsewhere, it leaves us with each other's company."

"Thank you, Uncle Mooney," I said, unmoved by his hollow gesture. "But Aunt Augusta should be arriving home later today. She will surely be road weary, and I am feeling poorly as well, so I shall regretfully decline your invitation on behalf of both of us."

"Suit yourself, child," he declared with a nod of relief.

Twitch tongued his bulging chaw of tobacco from one cheek to the other. "Oh, come on, Hannah," he wheedled with a seemly grin. "I will be joinin' Mooney as well. Maybe an evenin' with me will warm the chill in your heart."

"That's enough, Twitch.e.l.l." Uncle Mooney raised his arm in front of Twitch, corralling him like an unbroken stallion.

"Well, maybe our dear Missy here ain't so much sick as she is in need of attention from someone who appreciates her delicate nature."

"I said, 'That's enough,'" Uncle Mooney huffed with impatience rather than anger. Then with a disagreeable tug of his hat in my direction, he said, "Twitch.e.l.l and I have business in town. Be sure to let Augusta know the invitation was offered."

With a snap of the reins, Twitch wrestled the horses back toward the road leading to town and barreled off in a cloud of dust.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened and I fretted over Livie's fate, I gravitated toward the kitchen, where Esther Mae joined Granny in supper preparation.

"Sit a spell, chile," Granny said as she waddled to the table and slid a small plate of biscuits and marmalade toward me. Granny Morgan rarely spoke more than a word or two at a time. Mostly she hummed or sang spirituals, deep and aching like the pull of a bow across a ba.s.s fiddle. So when she thought it important enough to speak up, it got everyone's attention, including mine. "Go on, now. Eat up. Be best fo' all of us if you greet Miz 'Gusta with some color in yo' cheeks."

I was happy to oblige her. I cupped the warm tea she set in front of me and let the moist steam rise against my face. Warmth flushed across my skin, releasing the knot of tension that throbbed behind my left eye. Esther Mae swatted the sharp husks of her broom back and forth across the floor, using it to voice the frustration she dare not direct toward me.

"Don't seem right fo' the devil to poke me from dusk till dawn with apparitions of Winston strung from a tree, when those breathin' the same air as me think nothin' of draggin' home mo' work and trouble to set at my doorstep."

"Hush up, Esther Mae," Granny boomed, curling the slope of her flat nose to meet the downward scowl of her broad forehead. "Don't growl at us 'cuz you miss yo' man. Ma.s.sa Reynolds will have yo' hide if he stumbles in on you talkin' out o' turn. Go on now and fetch some lemons from the cellar. Miz 'Gusta will expect a cool drink to soothe the thirst of a long day spent in a dusty carriage."

Esther Mae slowed her broom strokes into contrite circles until she hedged to the door of the root cellar. Then with tight lips and a distant gaze, she slipped from Granny Morgan's hands-on-hips shadow and left me in a wake of confusion.

"Gracious be," I sputtered. "I have never seen Esther Mae so upset or speak in such a manner. Why is she having fretful night terrors about Winston?"

"Don't pay her no mind, chile," Granny said, shuffling back to the kitchen pump. "She still feels the sting from the whuppin' my boy, Winston, got in town a ways back. You would be doin' ol' Granny a powerful favor if you jes' fo'get Esther Mae's sour words. Granny will see it don't happen no more."

"They's comin'! They's comin'!" Elijah's cry sliced through the activity on the grounds around the house.

Granny and I both jumped like startled rabbits and set off in opposite directions. Gathering the flounce of my dress, I hurried from the kitchen toward the front porch, while Granny bellowed for Esther Mae to fetch herself out of the cellar. The dozen or so Runians who were not tending the fields scurried after the pickaninnies toddling around the yard. James strode from the backyard, where he was mending a fence. He paused by the stable to remove his straw hat and drag his forearm across his dripping brow. My gaze followed Elijah's pointed finger across the lower fields to where Aunt Augusta's coach jostled down the road stretching between the house and town.

The lower fields were planted in well-maintained sections, growing most of the staple crops of the household: potatoes, carrots, onions, snap beans, tomatoes, corn, and an abundance of all else that blessed our table. The Runians lined up in the fields and raised their hands in welcome as Aunt Augusta's coach rolled past them. Many emptied from their rows and followed in her noisy wake to the front yard. They circled the coach at a respectful distance as James secured the horses to the hitching post. Elijah stood, waving his arms over his head, near James, as Esther Mae rushed by me and placed an embracing arm across her son's shoulder. She radiated a broad smile of relief. Elijah bolted to the stilled coach and climbed onto Winston's perch, where his father tousled his hair and handed him the reins. Several Runians unloaded Aunt Augusta's trunks and carried them to the house. I walked out among them, waiting for Aunt Augusta to exit the coach. Her unreadable eyes scanned the gathering through the window as James opened her door. When Aunt Augusta stepped into full view, she was met with a staggered chorus of "Welcome back, Miz 'Gusta." She acknowledged them with an attentive nod that signaled each back to their abandoned ch.o.r.e.