Promise Bridge (5 page)

Marcus measured us with uncertainty. He looked down at his suffering sister, then back again at our earnest faces. Suddenly, the proud, angry woman stepped from the group and challenged Marcus.

“Don’t you let no white slaver lay a knife to that chile’s black skin. They would sooner cut her heart out and fed it to the sows ’fore they use their healin’ medicine on one of us. Don’t trust nothin’ a slaver says or promises. We all got the strap marks to know I speak the truth.”

“Hush up, Raizy. You got no say in this.”

“The hell you say, fool. We didn’t come this far so you can sacryfice the lot of us to save yo’ kin. You is the one who said from the get- go that if any of us gets sick or can’t keep pace, then they gots’ta be left behind for the good of the group. They is your words, outright.”

“The group is not in danger,” Marcus growled.

“There’s always danger when you trust a milky-white soul from the big house. You may as well put our heads on the choppin’ block.”

Frustrated with the standoff, Colt went for the large sack he had been carrying when first I saw him in the woods. He walked over and shoved it into the hands of the distrusting woman.

“Would I bring you all these provisions if I intended harm? There is enough to fill your bellies and see you on your way.”

They gathered around the sack and pulled out loaves of cracked bread, salted pork, apple butter, and a hefty bag of cornmeal. The woman called Raizy offered no apologies or grateful acknowledgments, but backed away from her protest and huddled with the circle to partake in the food. The magnitude of their situation suddenly hit me. For the first time since our paths crossed, I was frightened—not by them, but by the desperation and determination that drove them north, as well as the hateful vengeance of those equally pledged to keep them in their place and the ways of the South intact.

Colt expressed urgency in Livetta’s treatment, although his facade remained calm. “We must rid her of the infection before it takes a death hold on her. I know it’s a difficult decision, but these things can move swiftly, and waiting may take it out of our hands.”

Marcus finally conceded. “Then let’s not waste no more breath talkin’ ’bout it.”

Colt nodded and removed his scalpel from the box. “I will open the wound just enough to flush it clean. Then I will seal it with a hot blade.”

Marcus winced in empathy. “We gonna need to hold her down.”

Raizy and the stocky young man stepped forward from the group and positioned themselves opposite each other, over Livetta’s limp knees. Joining in the silent cooperation, I shimmied in next to Livetta and carefully pulled apart the stained bullet hole in her dress to expose the inflamed wound. As Marcus leaned down across his sister’s upper body to anchor her shoulders and arms, Colt sank his knife into her hip. Livetta jolted from her disoriented stupor with a whooping cry. I instinctively grabbed her fingers when she clawed at the ground beneath her brother’s weight. She clung to my hand and pulled me near. I glanced down toward her hip, where blood and fluid oozed like brown honey. Colt’s thumb and forefinger disappeared into the open wound and resurfaced with a dark, round gun pellet.

“Got it!” Colt looked up at me with great relief and a hint of pride in his gleaming eyes. “Pass me the kettle with the boiled water,” he called out to the mesmerized group behind us. The young mother heeded his words and ran for the small kettle of water that sat near the smoldering fire. Colt must have wisely ordered it boiled earlier, because as I reached across to take it from her eager grasp, it was tepid and soothing to the touch.

“Hannah, I am going to pull her wound open while you pour a steady stream to flush it clean.”

With Marcus and the two other runaways still holding Livetta down, I did as Colt instructed. Most of the festering washed away with the first rush of water, and before the kettle emptied, the wound appeared clear and ready to be sealed. I shifted around Marcus and placed a moist rag on Livetta’s forehead.

“You are very brave, Livie. We’re almost done.” Her face eased in response to my words.

“Our mama and sister used to call her Livie,” Marcus said as he loosened his grip. “Haven’t heard the name spoken fo’ the better part of six years.”

Colt dipped the knife blade into the unused water left in the kettle and gave it a vigorous swirl. He examined the cleansed metal, then walked to the fire and held it out in the flame.

“I must seal the wound closed as protection from any other infectious germ. Since I don’t have all the medical equipment needed, I must burn the flesh over it.”

Before we had the chance to digest the horror of what he was about to do, Colt moved from the fire, the hot orange glow of his blade aimed down at the unsuspecting girl’s exposed hip. We all grabbed what we could of Livie as Colt pressed the hot blade across the wound, instantly sending the sizzle and smell of burnt flesh throughout the cave. He was as quick and humane as his trembling hands allowed, but Livie exploded with an agonizing cry. Colt tossed the knife back into the wooden box and helped hold down Livie’s convulsing body.

“It’s done, Livie. It’s all done,” I whispered over and over in her ear as her cries peaked, then trailed off as she fainted in painful surrender.

Livie did not move for more than an hour, and was still unconscious when Colt and I decided it was best to head back to Hillcrest before Aunt Augusta became suspicious of our absence. As we exited the cave, I heard Raizy’s voice rise.

“You can’t trust ’em. They take pleasure in our sufferin’ and have done nothin’ but torture this poor chile. Now she’s branded like a prize steer. This girl gots’ta be sacryficed for the good of the group. That’s jes’ the way of it.”

Chapter 6

“S
he dead, Miz Hannah,” Lillabelle wailed as I entered the cave. “She dead! She dead!”

The bottom dropped out of my heart as the young quadroon clung to my legs, shackling me from running to the group huddled, in the late-morning gleam of the cave, around the bed of needles opposite me. I had waited impatiently for Aunt Augusta to set off on her trip to Cumberland Gap, so I could come and go as I pleased. As I waved Aunt Augusta good-bye, I had wondered why Colt had not come to bid her farewell. I had no way of knowing that I would find him here with the runaways.

Lillabelle pulled me toward the circle of slaves. I stumbled in disbelief. Our efforts to save Livie had failed, and by the look of the shoving match between Colt and Marcus, we were being held accountable. Colt shook his head and waved his hands at Marcus.

“It was a foolish mistake,” he said in an irritated voice. “And far too dangerous . . .” He paused when he saw me rushing toward him. “Hannah?”

I cried out, “Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe I could have done something!” Raizy jumped out of my way as I threw myself into the inner circle and fell into the dust at Colt and Marcus’s feet. “Why didn’t you tell me she died?”

Marcus rolled his eyes with exasperation. “Not you too. You is as bad as Lillabelle, carrying on ’bout an ol’ jackrabbit like it’s a member of the family.”

“What?”

He held out his hand and let the slaughtered rabbit he’d wrangled swing by its ears back and forth in front of my confused face. “I keep tellin’ this fool that after three days of comin’ up here in the woods under the guise of huntin’, he best be takin’ home a kill, or his daddy is gonna get to wonderin’.”

I swung around in a fit of tears and saw Livie propped on one arm, staring at me with a tired eyebrow raised in amusement. “I never knowed white folks was such unusual critters,” she mumbled as she ruffled some burlap Colt had brought to pillow her head. “Best be tellin’ your beau to take that there rabbit from Marcus, ’cuz we all seen down in the meadow he ain’t got no knack fo’ shootin.” She smiled to herself as she lay her head down and closed her eyes.

“Lillabelle said she was dead.” I sniffled as Colt helped me to my feet.

“Oh, that spirited chile is talkin’ ’bout the rabbit,” Marcus said, shoving the kill against Colt’s chest. “I trapped and strangled it this morning. Now take it so no one thinks you is doin’ somethin’ more than huntin’ up in these hills.”

“I still say it was a damn foolish thing to do.” Colt reluctantly took the limp rabbit in hand. “If anybody had seen you, this hare would not have been the only kill of the day.”

In my relief at seeing Livie alive and with regained strength and clarity of mind, I failed to take notice of Colt’s frustration.

“I need a word with you outside, Hannah,” he said curtly as he pressed an unusually gruff hand against the small of my back and directed me into the pines outside the hideaway.

“Keep walking,” he said without giving clue as to the cause of his thinly veiled anger. “We’ll speak once we are out of earshot of the others.”

We continued through a break in the pines and up over the knoll leading to the eastern slope of the ridge overlooking the Red Hawk River. It was a pristine sight, but I knew we were not there to take in the view. I thought perhaps a compliment would soften his mood.

“I am so proud of your doctoring skills. You saved Livie’s life. The feeling must bring you great satisfaction.”

“The only feeling I have right now is sheer terror, and you should feel the same, Hannah. This situation is out of control. You are far too emotionally immersed with these people. We need to send them on their way before it’s too late.”

“Livie will not survive a perilous trip in her condition.”

“She may not survive staying here either,” he said. “My point is you have become too attached. You must distance yourself, because sentimental notions have no place in what we are doing.”

“You probably expect me to agree with you, Colt, but I can’t help thinking maybe sentimental notions have
everything
to do with it. My emotions are mine and mine alone. And they are not controlled by you or Aunt Augusta or anybody else, for that matter. Maybe it’s time I face my emotions head-on and figure them out for myself.”

“Bloody hell!” Colt growled.

“How dare you . . . ?”

“No, not you,” he said, pointing down across the river. “Look!”

Just beyond the southern bend of the river, where the flatland stretched clear of the wooded landscape, a cloud of dust barreled its way along the red dirt road toward the river crossing on the distant banks of Echo Ridge.

“Have mercy! Is that Twitch heading back to West Gate so soon?”

It was a question that needed no answer. Even from our perch two miles above, I recognized the creaky, enclosed buckboard rattling along behind his two hard-driven palominos. And though we were too far away to see anything more than his disagreeable frame hunched over the reins, I felt his snarl right down to my bones.

“Come, we must put the fire out,” Colt said, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the cave.

“Don’t worry, Colt. Any billows rising up from the cave can’t be seen in town. You told me that yourself. All the smoke gets funneled through the rock formations in the other direction.”

Stumbling toward the cave entrance, Colt released me so he could bend and catch his breath. After a few deep breaths, he straightened up and regained his composure with a simple shift of his shoulders.

“A line of smoke from the cave might not be seen from town, but I am certain it will catch the eye of anyone approaching the ridge from the east or north.”

“Even if Twitch sees it,” I stammered, reassuring myself aloud, “he may pay it no mind. Someone stoking a fire in the woods is as natural as rain falling from a passing cloud.”

“We can’t take the chance, Hannah.”

The pounding of my heart told me he was right. When we plunged back through the rocky wall, our concern and anxiety were reflected back at us from shadowed faces. Most of the group sat about nibbling morsels from the food rations Colt had supplied them. The pouches slung over their shoulders were weighted with enough cornmeal for a week’s worth of ashcakes. The sight made me grateful they would not be sent away empty-handed, and that their unexpected stop in Echo Ridge would somehow better their chance of finding their way north. But once my eyes settled on Livie passed out in the corner, any self-righteous thoughts I had about having done these people any favor was washed away by a wave of remorse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Colt approach Marcus.

“It’s time for you to leave,” he ordered. Marcus stood nose to nose with Colt and offered what amounted to a restrained bark of protest.

“Livetta can’t be moved yet. She be dead ’fore we get to the next pass.”

“It is too dangerous to stay,” Colt said, not backing down. “It’s only a matter of time before a group this size is discovered here. I insist you move on.”

“In a few days . . . when Livetta is stronger.”

Colt leaned into Marcus’s puffed chest. “If you don’t leave at nightfall, you could be hanging from a tree by midday tomorrow.”

A scuffle of arms and legs broke out between them until Raizy and her son pulled the two apart. Both huffed and snorted at each other with fiery eyes, but neither raised a fist to continue the battle. Marcus shook Raizy off his arm and ran his hands up over his tight curls, as if raking through his thoughts with his fingers.

“Marcus,” Raizy pleaded. “You said if someone can’t go on, they gots’ta stay behind. That goes for yo’ sister, same as the rest of us.”

“I will not leave Livetta,” he shot back. “Go on without us.”

“We don’t know the way,” the oldest of the group countered. “Ain’t right to bring us this far and then send us on blind.”

“You jes’ follow the drinking gourd in the night sky. You know that, old woman. Or watch for the moss growin’ thick on the north side of the trees.”

“But the drinking gourd ain’t gonna show us where the safe passes are through the mountains or where the favorin’ light burns for us. Boy, you gots’ta lead the way, or we is doomed to die.”

Marcus detached from the pressure by crouching beside Livie. She was awake now, and from the jumpiness in her eyes, it was clear she heard most of what was said.

“You ain’t leavin’ me, is you, Marcus?” She labored to a sitting position, until the pain leveled her onto her back. He tugged the blanket and smoothed it around her trembling body as she pleaded, “I’ll be fine, Raizy. Ya’ll see.”

“No, Livetta,” Marcus said, firmly. “You spilled a lot o’ blood, so you is mighty weak. Pushing on will kill you fo’ sure.”

On my knees next to Marcus, I was mesmerized by the raw devotion between brother and sister. I never thought much about what transpired in the cabins of Mud Run, but the general opinion of my social peers was that familial bonds and intimate caring was not in the nature or of particular value to the slave population. But as witness to their pain, I could not stand by and leave them to their suffering.

“I will care for her,” popped from me like an unexpected hiccup. Their heads turned to me in stunned silence. Words came quickly and without contemplation. “You can make safe passage for the others while I look after Livie. Then you can come back for her when you are able.”

“Hannah, you are not . . .” Colt began, until my determined glare made him swallow his thought.

“It makes perfect sense,” I continued, before any more protests could be voiced. “One person is easier to hide than nine. Therefore, once you go, she will be out of danger.”

“Please don’t leave me with her, Marcus,” Livie wailed. Marcus brooded with careful consideration, and I suspected he saw sense in my idea.

“Sounds right smart to me,” Raizy chimed in from behind. “At least the chile has a chance if her legs is given time to grow strong enough to carry her feet north. You said you would turn south again to bring mo’ to freedom once the path is put to memory in yo’ head.”

Livie shook her head and braced for what she read in her brother’s distraught eyes. He looked at me with an intensity that hummed throughout my body. He turned the palm of one of his hands up in front of me. “Do you swear at the feet of sweet Jesus that you will look after her?”

“Of course,” I said, hoping to mask the surprise that stiffened me from head to toe. I had never encountered a slave, fugitive or otherwise, who dared to speak so boldly, much less demand something of me. He seemed to want me to touch his upright hand, but I could never. . . .

“Promise me,”
he said louder as he grabbed one of my hands and squeezed it tight in his upright palm. As we touched, his raw emotion pierced through his powerful hand into mine and penetrated my defenses.

“Do you promise to see to it that Livetta is safe and has what she needs until I come back to fetch her?”

My breast heaved with an explosion of fear. My hand trembled in his, and try as I might, I could not calm the panic brought on by this breach of conduct. Yet my impulse was not to pull away. “Yes,” I finally breathed as my throat unclenched.

He reached out with his free hand, this time more gently, and took my other hand and raised it to match the hands we still clasped. We tightened our grip by allowing our fingers to entwine. I could barely breathe as the presence of the others seemed to fall away around me. Marcus’s eyes were now soft and reverent.

“This is a promise bridge,” he said, squeezing my hands tightly to emphasize the connection. “And it bridges a promise from your heart to mine. It can’t never be broken, because it is inside you now. It stays there forever and passes on to all that comes from you, and is carried by your spirit when it rises to heaven. The promise is a part of you now, understand?”

His words held on to my heart as firmly as his hands folded with mine. The emotion created by the bridge between us overwhelmed me. No man had ever been so forthright in my presence, not even Colt, who hid his occasional flirtation behind a playful tickle or peck on the cheek. Far from childhood at nearly twenty years old, I was still handled like a delicate rose by all who engaged me. My head dizzied in a bewildering swirl of conflict and commitment as I allowed this man to hold me in his grasp for an inappropriate period of time.
This black man. A slave.
It was an astounding transgression that I could not right with sense or reason. Yet it also released something untapped within that filled me with intrigue and amazement. Bolstered by an awakening I could not yet fully understand, I held my fear at bay and returned the clasp of his hand as intently as it was given, and whispered, “Yes, I promise, Marcus. I promise with heart and soul.”