A Perilous Proposal (30 page)
Read A Perilous Proposal Online
Authors: Michael Phillips
Tags: #Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865–1877)—Fiction, #Women plantation owners—Fiction, #Female friendship—Fiction, #Plantation life—Fiction, #Race relations—Fiction, #North Carolina—Fiction, #Young women—Fiction, #Racism—Fiction
J
EREMIAH HAD BEEN SURPRISED AND RELIEVED TO SEE
Katie's uncle ride into the yard. He watched him disappear into the house. Things were quiet for a few minutes. So quiet that Jeremiah was just starting to think about heading back into the house himself when the pounding of horse hooves filled his ears. He peered through a crack in the barn door and watched tensely as four riders galloped up to the house, sending dust flying in all directions.
“Hey in there . . . you Clairbornes!” yelled the lead rider. “Time's up. We're back like we said we'd be. We're here for what belongs to us.”
“All right,” a voice shouted back through the window. “We've got the gold and we're not going to put up a fight.”
It was Katie's uncle's voice. A voice the men clearly hadn't expected. The rider seemed momentarily puzzled as two of his partners rode up alongside him.
“That you, Daniels?” he finally called out.
“Yeah, it's me, Jeb.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I'm here. That's all that matters.”
“I figured you'd be back for the gold one day. Now I can
settle my score with you for that money you cheated me out of.”
“I never cheated you, Jeb. You're just a bad poker player, that's all. You should never have called, holding just a pair of sevens.”
“We'll see about that, Daniels,” the man shouted back. “The way I figure it, I got the winning hand now.”
“You're right, Jebâno argument there. You got me dead to rights. That's why, like I told you, I'm just going to fold and let you walk away with the gold.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it ain't that simple, Daniels. You ever think of that? Maybe it's gone too far. Maybe it ain't only the gold we want.”
“What else could you want, Jeb? We've got nothing else.”
“Yeah, well, maybe we're just gonna take the gold and that pretty little girl in there for Hal here. And maybe I'll just kill you to boot.”
“No need for all that, Jeb. I told you, you can have the gold. You don't want to get yourself into even more trouble than you're already in.”
“Why should we trust you, Daniels? Ward lied to us. The woman lied to us. The kid lied to us. And you're all kin. We're going to take it . . . all of it.”
Another man rode up alongside the fellow called Jebâthe fourth rider who hadn't been with them when they'd come before.
“They're all cut out of the same lying cloth,” he now said. “If the rest of you want to keep talking, that's fine. But I say we get this done and get it done the quickest way to make sure nobody lives to talk about it.”
His voice was harsh and cold and cruel.
Upstairs, inside the house, Katie couldn't stand it anymore, whatever her uncle had said about staying out of sight. She was so worried about him that she couldn't stay put. All at once she got up from where she sat on the floor beside me and dashed for the stairs. Henry tried to stop her, but by then Katie was out of sight.
“Emma, you stay here with Henry,” I said. “He'll make sure nothing happens to you.”
I jumped up and hurried after Katie. The two of us crept downstairs where Mr. Daniels stood just to the side of one of the open windows.
“What in blazes!” he said. “What are you two doing here?”
“I was afraid for you, Uncle Templeton,” said Katie. “I wanted to be with you.”
“Just keep your heads down.”
We crouched beside him. But soon my curiosity got the best of me. I raised myself up and snuck a peek out the bottom of the window.
“Something about that voice seems mighty familiar . . .” said Mr. Daniels, more to himself than to us. Then he glanced over at me. “Keep your head down, Mary Ann!” he said. “What are you trying to do, get yourself shot?”
But I had seen enough.
It wasn't only the man's voice that made me start shaking.
Through the window I had seen a face I knew I'd never forget, with reddish hair and a thick mustache, and those horrible huge eyes of white. It was the man who had killed my family and trampled my grandpapa under his horse's hooves. A chill seized me and I began to tremble in terror.
Almost the same instant, I heard Mr. Daniels say
his name. The sound of it filled me with dread.
“It's Bilsby!” said Mr. Daniels. “What is he doing here!”
“Who is he?” asked Katie.
“He's the meanest cuss I ever knew,” he replied. “I didn't know he was hooked up with the rest of them, but I should have figured it. He'll kill us all even if we do give him the gold. I may not be able to talk my way out of this.”
Suddenly a shot exploded and sent the glass from the shattered window above our heads tinkling all over the floor.
“You girls get outta here!” said Mr. Daniels. “Bilsby's a guy who plays for keeps!”
He knelt below the windowsill, stuck the barrel of the rifle out of the broken window, and fired back two or three shots. A rapid volley of gunfire came back and broke several more windows. Mr. Daniels fired back again and the room filled with the echo of loud shots coming from everywhere.
Katie was yelling and crying in panicâhorrified to see the house she loved being shot up, yelling at everyone and terrified that someone was going to get hurt.
“Stop . . . stop!” she yelled. “Stop it!” But her voice was drowned out by the blast of gunfire and shattering glass and splintering wood and ricocheting bullets all around us.
Suddenly she jumped up from the floor, ran to the table, and grabbed the bag of gold. Then she darted for the door.
“Katie!” I cried.
“Kathleen, get backâ” shouted Mr. Daniels.
But it was too late. Katie flew straight out toward the yard and into the middle of the gunfire.
“Stop . . . stop!” she cried in desperation, running
toward the men. “Here's the gold, you can have it! There's no more . . . this is all there is! Just take it and stop shooting and leave us alone!”
Beside me, the rifle Mr. Daniels had been using crashed to the floor. Katie's uncle jumped to his feet and tore through the door after her.
I stood and looked outside. One man was already down. Then I looked at Bilsby and watched in terror as an evil grin came to his lips and he raised his pistol.
I screamed in terror and dashed after them.
Running as fast as he could, Mr. Daniels threw himself in front of Katie and knocked her to the ground. The same instant a puff of white smoke burst from Bilsby's gun and a deafening roar filled the air.
Bilsby turned and saw me running from the house. I glanced toward him and saw the same wild look in his eyes that had paralyzed me with fear more than a year before. He lifted his gun and pointed it straight at me. But then a second shot exploded from behind me. The same instant a huge splotch of red burst from the middle of Bilsby's chest. I saw the light of life instantly go out of his face, and he crumbled from his horse onto the dirt.
“Katie, Katie!” I cried, running to where she lay partially covered by her uncle's body. I was in such a panic at the sight of blood splattered all over Katie's dress that I thought nothing of where the second shot could have come from.
Jeremiah knew where the shot had come from. He now walked deliberately out of the barn, shotgun in his hands. He was not looking at Mayme but toward a second-floor window of the house, stunned at the sight that met his eyes. There
stood his father with the rifle in his hands, still smoking, that had ended Bilsby's life.
“Let's get out of here,” cried Jeb. “If they find us with him, we'll swing from a tree. I don't want to hang for the rest of Bilsby's murders!”
The bag had flown from Katie's hand as she fell. Gold and dirt and dust were strewn everywhere. With one last fleeting glance at the half-empty bag on the ground, the man called Jeb thought better of it, then spun his horse around and galloped away with his one remaining comrade, just as Jeremiah sent a barrel of buckshot after them.
Mayme knelt sobbing beside Katie. Blood covered her back and neck as she lay motionless. “Katie . . . Katie, please . . . please don't be dead!”
Jeremiah felt helpless. He hurried over and knelt beside Mayme. Suddenly Katie tried to roll over. “I'm . . . I'm all right, Mayme,” she groaned. “I think I just fell.”
Mayme smothered her friend with kisses, hardly realizing that she was getting blood all over her hands and sleeves. For a second or two, Jeremiah was so relieved that Mayme and Katie weren't hurt, it didn't occur to him to wonder why there was so much blood.
Slowly the truth dawned on him. Then on Mayme. She leaned back onto her knees and took in the horrible sight. The blood splattered on Katie's dress wasn't hers at all.
As Katie struggled to get out from under her uncle and to her feet, Templeton Daniels lay unmoving on the ground, with the bullet from Bilsby's gun now lodged about an inch from his heart.
Jeremiah still knelt beside Mayme. He heard footsteps, then turned to see his papa emerge from the house. He stood and studied his father's face. Never had he seen a face so full of love and grief and grim determination at the same time. The two men stood gazing into each other's eyes a second or
two. Then Jeremiah extended his hand. Henry grasped it silently.
“Thank you, Papa,” Jeremiah whispered for his father's ears only. “I wuz mighty feared I'd lose her. . . .”
“I knows it, son. I know. . . .”
Jeremiah squeezed his father's hand, blinking back tears. He knew what getting that rifle had cost his father in his heart, and knew the sacrifice and pain it had taken for him to pull the trigger.
“I'm proud of you, Papa,” he said.
Henry let out a deep sigh, released Jeremiah's grasp, and put a hand on each of his son's shoulders. Then with a nod he stepped back and walked to where Bilsby lay. He stooped down to see for sure whether he was dead.
Henry bowed his head and closed his eyes. Jeremiah knew he was praying. When he rose a minute later, tears flowed out of Henry's eyes.
After a moment, Henry stooped down and rolled Katie's uncle partially onto his side. The man's eyes were closed. A trickle of blood oozed out of the side of his mouth.
“Hit don' look good,” mumbled Henry. “He's hurt bad.”
He glanced up at Katie and Mayme. “You girls, you don' need ter be lookin' at no dead man's face,” said Henry, “effen dat's what dis is.âJeremiah,” he said, glancing up at him, “you git t' town an' bring da doc. Effen he hesitates, you tell him hit's a white man. You git him here soon, boy. Don' take no fer an answer.”
Jeremiah ran for the barn.
“âyou ladies,” said Henry again, “git back. Y'all can't do him no good now. He an' dose other two layin' dereâdey's in da Lord's han's now.”
A
FTERMATH OF
D
EATH
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