A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy (12 page)

“Sad, ain’t it? That Ben sure was a good man.”
Hawk. Spit
.

“How he lived that long, I swain.”

“You reckon they hung the guy that did it?”

“One of Quantrill’s Raiders? They never hang ’em. Can’t catch ’em. Strike and they’re gone, just like a water moccasin I see’d down in Arkansas. Now that critter come right up over the gunwale of the boat. Beat him off with m’ oar, I did.”

Jesselynn wanted to beat them with an oar. What about the dead man? What about the Raiders? They
had
to get out of town. And quickly.

Richmond, Virginia

“Are you comfortable, Zachary dear?”

“As well as can be possible.” The glare he gave her said more than words could have said about what he thought of her plan. He propped his leg along the crutch he braced on the facing seat of the railroad car.

The engine whistled. The train lurched forward, coal smoke blowing by their window. Louisa dug in her satchel and withdrew her knitting just as if they were sitting in the parlor at Aunt Sylvania’s instead of on a train carrying them north to God only knew what peril.

The thought made Zachary clench his teeth. “If we ever get back home, I swear I am goin’ to—”

“Yes, dear.” Louisa played the wifely roll to the hilt, all sweetness and acquiescence now that she had her own way. But to tell the truth, once Zachary agreed to the outrageous plan of traveling north to get morphine and smuggle it back home, he’d begun preparations with a typical Highwood intensity. Gold for the purchases now filled the cavities hollowed out to hold the precious medicine, including the middle of the Bible she had lying on the seat beside her.

Anyone looking would only see a gallant young couple, she caring for a badly incapacitated husband, he a bit cantankerous, which anyone would hardly blame him for, seeing the residuals of his wounds and all. She waited on him hand and foot, even to fetching a coal to light his cigar and seeking a pillow to put under his leg.

Louisa received approving nods from an elderly couple seated across the aisle from them. While she tried to act as if traveling like this were an everyday occurrence, she wanted to plaster her nose to the window and not miss a single sight.
My land, to be rushing across the country at such speeds. Oh, if only Jesselynn were here. She would be near inebriated with joy
.

When the tracks ended at Fredericksburg, they transferred to a buggy for the ride to the Potomac River. Louisa nearly fell asleep but popped wide awake when the driver stopped. While she had a million questions, the look on Zachary’s face warned her that silence was a better plan.

“Easy now,” the man in black whispered as he helped them alight, traverse a small dock, and settle into a boat with high gunwales and a slender mast. Two men at the oars leaned into the pull.

At the far shore in Union territory, they entered a carriage for the drive into the capital. A basket of bread, cheese, and boiled eggs stilled the rumblings of their bellies. Louisa fell asleep before folding her napkin away.

Gawking was not polite; she knew that. Her mother had made frequent admonishments of such when they were little. But this was the capital of the United States, of which she had heard so much.

“Can we drive by the White House?” she asked once they had secured a hansom cab.

“Whatever for? This is no longer
our
capital, or have you forgotten?”

“You needn’t speak cruelly like that. Not all of us believe there will be two separate countries.”

The glare he gave her should have melted her bones, let alone her spirit, but she ignored him and turned to watch out the window instead. The streets were a quagmire of conveyances of all types. Blue uniforms, women in finer dress than any she’d seen for a long time strolled the boardwalks or rode at a frantic pace, as if the speed with which they arrived made any eternal difference.

“Do you know where we are going?”

“I gave the driver Cousin Arlington’s address, or at least the address we have for him. His family might be there, even if he is off with the army somewhere.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, if he is a physician . . .” Her heart felt as though it had gained ten pounds of pure lead.

“If they do not invite us to stay, we will find a hotel, and you will remain there while I see to the availability of our supplies.” He kept his voice so low she had to lean close to hear him.

Louisa devoutly hoped they would be invited to stay with their relatives. Surely the bonds of Southern hospitality still held true, even if . . . she couldn’t bring herself to say they were on opposite sides. All she longed for was the end of the war. But then, the war hadn’t held the allure for all the Highwood women as it had for the men.

What she really wanted was an end to the injured and the dying. Sometime earlier she had ceased to pray for either side, but only for the war to cease. Never would she entrust her brother with her feelings. He’d think her a traitor.

Deep inside she wished she could talk with President Lincoln and entreat him to stop the war. He seemed like a man with a concern for men dying, unlike the Southern firebrands. Again, unbeknownst to those around her, she prayed for wisdom for the two men in charge—Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis—that they would end the fighting.

The cab stopped in front of a narrow three-story house that fronted directly on the cobblestone street, three polished steps from the sidewalk to the door with a shiny brass knocker. An urn with a boxwood topiary sat to either side of the steps, lending a touch of green to the brick face. A sign that read
Physician
hung from an ornate iron bar attached to the wall.

“Dis de place,” the black driver announced as he stepped to the street and reached up for their one small trunk. Louisa handed out her carpetbag and accepted his hand to help her step down, turning to offer her assistance to Zachary. Getting in and out of conveyances had not become much easier, even with practice. With the driver’s hand under his right arm and the crutch under his left, Zachary led with his good foot, staggering but for the bracing of his two helpers.

“Thank you.” Once steady, he dug in his pocket for the coins, paid the man, and stared up at the windows with green shutters on the sides.

“Yo’ trunk, suh?”

“On the steps, if you will.” He nodded to Louisa. “You want to ply the knocker?”

Her heart felt as though it might knock its way right out of her chest. The moment of decision. What if they were turned away? She swallowed, glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the departing cab, took in a deep breath, and mounted the stairs. With a shaking hand, she let the knocker fall, then tapped it again.

Heading to Independence

Circumventing Blytheville took some planning.

Jesselynn stared at the map Benjamin had drawn in the dirt with a stick. Carthage lay behind them, Blytheville ahead. If there weren’t regular Union army located in the area, the dreaded Quantrill Raiders could show up anywhere, anytime. They specialized in night travel too. Only their purpose wasn’t a new life of freedom. Theirs was to bring destruction everywhere and plant fear into every heart within reach. They were supposed to be Confederate cavalry, but most people described them as the devil’s cavalry.

“But if we go this way . . .” She pointed to a road that ran northwest from the one they were taking to meet the main road between Kansas City and points south. That road used by the armies and freight haulers, besides ordinary citizens, cut a line through Kansas farmland, rich when enough rain fell. Lakes and swamps dotted the Missouri side of the border, so travel could not be as direct. Jesselynn studied the drawing some more. The war! Always the war. Soldiers to hide from, no matter which side they fought for, since they all needed horses.

“We got dis far. We can make it.” Meshach held Sammy up on his shoulders and jiggled him every once in a while, eliciting giggles from above and frowns from below. Thaddeus had yet to have a turn. “De good Lawd see us through.”

“Which way do you think we should go?” She looked up in time to see Sammy clamp his little hands over Meshach’s eyes.

“I think Benjamin should go on into Blytheville and ask around. Or you, like you done planned before.” Meshach removed the hands from his eyes and jiggled his rider. More giggles.

Jesselynn sighed. Instead of getting easier to play the part of a young man, it was getting harder.
I should be used to it by now,
she told herself.
I can be a woman again when we reach Oregon
. In Oregon they would be safely away from the war. Away from slavery, armies, and bushwhackers. Away from traveling at night and worrying that they may be found during the day.

She’d heard the land there was free for homesteading, just as Meshach dreamed of. There were mountains and lush valleys where, folks said, you could stick a fence post in the ground and a tree would sprout. Fruit trees, tall trees to cut for cabins, wheat, cattle—everything seemed to do well in Oregon, just like in the Garden of Eden. Only the lazy would starve in Oregon Territory. Folks could eat off the land, they said, with enough wild things to feed anyone willing to pick, dig, or shoot. If the stories were half true, the land would be worth the trip.

But first they had to get to Independence.

She sighed and, ignoring her dreams of possibilities, turned her attention back to the matter at hand.
Lord, which way do you want us to go? Your Word says you’ll guide us and keep us, and we need that now, as much as ever
. Daily she gave thanks that she’d turned back to her Lord. Even though at times the darkness would try to sneak in again, she remembered how she loved the light and wanted—needed it, like she needed air to breathe.

She took in a deep breath and let it out. “All right, much as I hate to, I’ll take Roman and go explore a bit of the town. Daniel, you want to come with me?”

The youngest of their group, Daniel, roused from his dozing against a log and leaped to his feet. “Shore do, Marse Jesse. I gets Roman for us.”

Both riding the mule, they entered the town by the back streets, only to find it full of people, all heading toward the town square. They caught the whispers. A hanging was about to happen. Jesselynn had no desire to see a hanging, but wandering through the crowd could most likely fill her in on all the news and the gossip too. They dismounted and tied the mule to a hitching post behind a store. With a pat on Roman’s rump that raised a cloud of dust, she pointed Daniel down one street, and she took the other.

“Be back here before the sun goes past that church spire.”

He nodded after following her pointing finger. “I be back.”

Jesselynn could see the gallows looming black in the westering sun. A rope dangled from the high beam, but while the crowd continued to gather, no one mounted the stairs yet.

A woman pushed by, dragging a young child by the hand. “Hurry up, now. We want to be there when they put the rope over his head.”

Jesselynn felt her stomach turn. She ambled from group to group, pausing now and then to listen. She stopped by a couple of townspeople when she overheard mention of the raiders.

“They come like thieves in the night, take what they want, and burn the rest.” The speaker hawked and spit, nearly hitting Jesselynn’s boot toe. “Sorry.” The man glanced at her and turned back to his companion. “I heard tell that they are recruiting again, but you got to have your own horse to join up. Ya’d think the army would supply the horses.”

“Shoot, the army ain’t got siccum. They’s pulling all the troops back to Virginny, I heard.”

“Leavin’ Quantrill in charge out here?” His look of shock sent shivers up Jesselynn’s back.

“No. An army will remain at Fort Scott. They know the rebs will be right back here if there’s no troops. Arkansas is too close for that.”

When they started jawing about the local sheriff, Jesselynn slipped on to the next group. Who could she ask about the roads north? Who were they hanging and why? As more people poured into the square, Jesselynn almost resorted to pushing to get by a group of five women. Why was a hanging more like celebrating the Fourth of July?

“’Scuse me. Pardon me.” One well-rounded matron stepped backward, right on Jesselynn’s foot.

“Ouch.” But her voice drowned in the laughter.

“Here now, son. Up on my shoulders, you’ll be able to see everything.” The man swung his boy up, barely catching Jesselynn with his elbows.

Drawing a breath of relief at escaping the horde, Jesselynn stepped up onto the porch of the bank building and leaned against the post, scanning the crowd while she drew her knife from her pocket and, opening the blade, began to clean her fingernails. Studying the impacted dirt, she listened to the men behind her.

“Hangin’ is too good for ‘im.”

At that comment, she angled herself so she could see them out the corner of her eye.

“Shoulda just shot him. That’s what I say. Anyone who’d rob the store and shoot ol’ Avery through the heart deserves shootin’. Why, he gave away more food than he sold when times were really tough. Don’t care how desperate the man was.” He shook his head, then lifted his hat with one hand and smoothed his hair back with the other before settling the slouch-brimmed thing back securely on his head. “I went on the posse, ya know. If the sheriff hadn’t threatened to shoot any man who took matters into his own hands, we’da been saved the work on the scaffold and all.”

“But the ‘portant thing is, he’s goin’ to swing.”

“I just wished he’d been one of them raiders, that’s all. Let me get my hands on those thievin’ skunks, and I’d—”

“Just pray they don’t come out your way.”

“Ain’t got nothin’ for them anyways.”

“You got chickens, ‘n hogs ‘n such, ain’t ya? That’s what they’re lookin’ for. And hay left in your barn or grain in the bin? They gotta eat and feed their horses. They don’t offer no pay neither.”

When a man shouted for their attention, Jesselynn’s attention swung back to the raised platform. A quick glance told her the black-coated man boasted a star, so he must be the sheriff. As the crowd roared and pressed forward, the better to hear, she closed her pocketknife and, sliding it back in her pocket, stepped off the porch. All her listening had done was put the fear of night travel back at the top of her list.

What do I do to keep the horses safe? I’ll take regular army, gray or blue, any day over this
. At least she knew there was a garrison at Fort Scott. They’d have to swing west to miss that. Her mind made up, she strode on back to the general store and entered through two swinging doors, making her wonder if she’d found the saloon by mistake. A man in an apron nearly ran over her in his rush to get out the door.

“You’ll have to come back later, boy. I ain’t missin’ the show.”

“The show?”

“You know. The hangin’.”

“Oh, could you cut me some cheese first and maybe weigh out a pound of coffee? I got to be on my way. Some of those peppermint sticks too.”

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Cain’t it wait?”

“Nope.”

The man groaned and stomped his way back to the counter. The way he slapped the cheese on the scale told her of his resentment. But when she paid him with a gold piece, his scowl lightened. He shoved her packets across the counter and almost beat her to the door, flipping the
CLOSED
sign as he left.

Jesselynn paused outside the store and studied those around her. Noticing a man who appeared content to stay where he was leaning against the railing of the store, she stopped beside him. “Mister, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure ‘nough, boy. What can I do for you?”

“Well, my daddy sent me into town to ask about the best way to Independence. Ya see, we’s goin’ on west to Oregon.”
Why’d you have to tell him all that?

“Where’s your daddy now?”

“Oh, camped some east of here. He’s ailin’, or he woulda come hisself.”

“From what I hear, it takes a powerful lot of strength to go to Oregon.”

“Ah, he’ll be on his feet again soon.” Jesselynn rammed her hands in her pockets and glanced up at the stranger from under her hat brim. “You been to Independence?”

“Many times. If’n it were me, I’d take the road that runs north of town. Cut off a few miles thataway. Road’s good again now that the rain let up.”

“Thankee, sir. I’ll tell my daddy what you said. We be grateful.” She started to back away.

“Where you all from?”

Just then a shout from the area of the platform snagged his attention and let Jesselynn slip away without answering. That was the way of folks, always asking questions. Ignoring the spectacle going on behind her, she made her way back to the mule.

“Why are folks so confounded enamored with watchin’ some man die?” But asking Roman anything never had gotten her very far.

Daniel was nowhere in sight.

She checked out the church steeple. Sure enough, the sun had passed it some time earlier.

I should just leave him, let him walk back to camp
. As the minutes passed, the thought took on more possibilities. Besides, if she thought about leaving him, the fear that something had happened couldn’t take over.

A shout went up from the crowd on the other side of the building. The deed must have been done. Her stomach rolled. People would be disbursing now. “Daniel, you good for nothing young pup, I could—”

“
Psst!
”

She looked around.

“
Psst
. Over here, Marse Jesse.”

She turned in time to see a dark brown hand beckoning from the other side of the alley and two doors down. She jerked the knot loose that bound the mule and, flinging herself on his back, had him moving before she sat upright. She slowed to a walk. Like a shadow Daniel leaped from his hiding place and had himself up behind her, scarcely touching her foot and extended hand.

“Hey! Hey, you. Stop!”

The shout propelled them into a canter, and within moments they were beyond accosting.

“What on earth did you do this time?” Jesselynn wanted to turn and look into his eyes so he wouldn’t lie to her.
Takes a liar to know a liar
. The thought made her slap the reins on Roman’s shoulder.