Promises to the Dead (10 page)

Eager as I was to go, I waited while Nate hesitated on the doorstep. "Come with us, Pamela," he said. "You're bound to be blamed for this."

She shook her head. "I'll get in more trouble running away."

Nate seized her arm. "Listen to me," he begged. "I got it all thought out. We'll go to the Yankee camp on Federal Hill. I hear they shelter runaways as long as we do a good day's work for them."

But Pamela didn't budge. "You go," she said. "Join up with the Yankees and do their dirty work, but don't expect me to come along with you."

The bell on the kitchen wall jangled, but Pamela was too busy arguing with Nate to pay it any mind. I plucked at his arm. "Come on," I whispered. "They're wanting more to drink."

A door opened somewhere, and I heard the colonel say, "That worthless wench of yours must be asleep. Am I going to have to get the brandy myself?"

Perry tightened his grip on Nate and began to whimper. "He's coming, he's coming. I hear him!"

"Please go, Nate," Pamela begged, but it was too late. Just as she started to close the door, a red-faced man stepped into the kitchen.

"Didn't you hear me ringing the bell, girl?" he hollered. "Where's my brandy?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kirby. Go sit down, sir, I'll bring it to you." Pamela tried to block his view, but, drunk as he was, the man managed to spot Nate.

"Who's at the door?" he asked, peering around Pamela. "You entertaining callers, girl?"

Nate thrust Perry at me. "Get him out of here!"

At the same moment, I glimpsed Colonel Abednego Botfield following his host into the kitchen. Terrified, I staggered backward into the alley, hauling Perry into the shadows with me.

I heard Nate say, "Sorry, sir, but I been drinking with my friends and I got the notion to see Pamela. She told me to go away, so I guess I best leave now." He was slurring his voice and putting on a good show, but Mr. Kirby wasn't done with him yet.

"Does Judge Baxter know you're out so late?" he asked. "If you was my slave, you wouldn't be traipsing around the streets at this hour. The judge gives you way too much freedom."

Colonel Botfield stepped forward. "Is someone with you?" he asked Nate.

"No, sir, it's just me."

"I thought I heard a noise in the alley," the colonel said. "Excuse me while I take a look."

I started running then, faster than I thought possible, dragging Perry along with me. Behind me I heard the colonel shout, "Stop right there or I'll shoot!"

His gun went off, but the bullet went wide. I heard it hit the wall over my head as I ducked around the corner. On St. Paul Street, the two of us tumbled down a flight of steps and crouched in the shadows by a basement door. Scarcely breathing, we heard Colonel Botfield pounding up the alley toward us.

He stopped at the corner, breathing hard like he wasn't used to running. I pictured him sniffing the air like a hound seeking our scent. It wouldn't have surprised me none if the man had dropped to all fours and followed our trail with his nose.

"Abednego," Mr. Kirby called. "Come on back here. We ain't finished our card game. I aim to win back every cent I lost, you old rascal."

The Colonel hawked a gob of something nasty into the gutter. "Don't let that Negro go," he hollered. "Him and that gal of yours are up to something, and I mean to learn what it is."

Letting fly a stream of curses, he strode down the alley, his boot heels clicking against the stones.

"He didn't see us, did he?" Perry whispered.

I let out my breath in a long sigh. "That man don't miss much, but if he'd seen us, we'd be dead now, shot through the head."

We waited a while longer just in case the colonel was lurking somewhere close by. A church bell struck the half hour and then the quarter hour. I tiptoed to the top of the steps. Didn't see nothing but a pitiful three-legged dog limping down the empty street.

"Let's go," I said. "The Baxters' house ain't far from here."

"Does Polly know I'm coming?" Perry asked, close to tears by now. "Is she waiting there for me?"

I hated to tell the poor child bad news when he was already feeling low, but it made no sense to get his hopes up. "Polly's daddy sent her and her mother to his brother's place in the country. I never got a chance to tell her nothing about you."

Perry sniffed hard and wiped his eyes, but he didn't say a thing, just tottered along beside me, weak as a baby. For a little child, he had a lot of pluck.

"I hear you put up a real good fight when the colonel brought you to the Kirbys' house," I said.

Perry shuddered. "The widow just about whipped every bit of fight out of me," he said. "All that kept me from dying was Mama."

I looked at him. The moonlight silvered his face but not his eyes, giving him a ghostly look. "What do you mean, Perry?"

"Mama was there with me," he said in a dreamy voice, "deep in the shadows, where no one could see her but me. She told me you'd come for me. I didn't believe her, but she was right."

"You must have had a fever dream," I told him. "I've had some that seemed realer than real life."

"No," he said. "Mama was there. She was so close I felt her dress brush against my face."

It fair gave me the shivers to hear the child talk so. I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see Lydia watching us from an alleyway. But there was no sign of her. No sign of the colonel or Nate either. I urged Perry to walk faster. Never had a night seemed so dark and full of danger.

When we got to Baxters' house, Athena met us at the kitchen door. "Oh, sweet Lord!" she cried, hugging Perry tight. "What has that woman done to you?"

Now that I could see Perry better, I realized he'd been badly treated indeed. He was cut and bruised, and his clothes were nothing but filthy rags. From the looks of him, it seemed the widow had planned to keep the child locked up till he died of starvation. Or a beating or something even worse.

With me following close behind, Athena carried Perry downstairs and laid him on my pallet. I watched her bathe his face the way she'd once bathed mine, fussing over him like a mother hen. When she'd done what she could, she straightened up and looked at me.

"Why didn't Nate carry this poor child here instead of making him walk?" she asked, clearly vexed. "Where is that no-'count man anyhow?"

"Mr. Kirby and Colonel Botfield have him," I said. "The colonel suspects him and Pamela are up to something, and he aims to learn what."

Athena shook her head. "That don't sound good. They're bound to come here looking for this child." She studied Perry's face a moment. "Easy to tell who his daddy was," she said softly. "I knew Peregrine when he was this boy's age and never have I seen a closer likeness."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than we heard a loud knocking at the front door.

"Judge Baxter," an all too familiar voice hollered. "Open up. We have your slave here!"

Perry's eyes widened in fear, but Athena picked him up. "Don't worry, I'll hide you somewhere safe." Turning to me, she added, "Get out the back door fast. It sounds like the judge is letting them in."

CHAPTER 11

I scooted up those stairs like a scared rabbit, but I wasn't quick enough. At the very moment I reached the back door, Mr. Kirby and Colonel Abednego Botfield came storming down the hall toward me, followed by Judge Baxter. The colonel was dragging Nate, whose head was bleeding like he'd been beaten bad. Pistol-whipped, maybe. It made me ache to see him looking more dead than alive.

"Fetch that wench of yours," Colonel Botfield was hollering at Judge Baxter. "She's got that slave child hid in this house, I tell you."

When the colonel saw me struggling to unbolt the back door, he dropped Nate to the floor with a thud. Grabbing my shirt, he lifted me clean off my feet and shook me like a feather pillow.

"This is the very brat that hid the woman and her boy from me in Talbot County," he yelled.

Judge Baxter looked from Colonel Botfield to me and back to Colonel Botfield again. "I've never seen that guttersnipe before," he said, clearly astonished. "I have no idea why he's in my house or where he came from."

"If Jesse Sherman is here, the child I'm seeking is here, too." Colonel Botfield gave me a few more shakes hard enough to break a chicken's neck. "Give me a Bible, and I'll swear on the Holy Evangels of Almighty God that this here rascal and your no-account slave broke into Mr. Daniel Kirby's house tonight and stole a child that belongs to your son's widow."

Flummoxed, Judge Baxter stared at Colonel Botfield. I noticed he made no move to fetch a Bible. "You must be mad or drunk to say such a thing. Why in heaven's name would Nate steal a slave and bring him here?"

Growing more wrathy every second, the colonel shook me again, causing me to bite my tongue something awful. "Just give me permission to search the house," he said. "You'll soon see I'm telling the truth."

Judge Baxter drew himself up tall and straight, shoulders back and chin up. "No one searches my house, Colonel Botfield, least of all a scoundrel such as yourself."

Ignoring the insult, the colonel said, "As I've already told you, the slave in question belongs to the widow of your deceased son! I should think you'd want to help the bereaved reclaim her property."

Instead of shaking me again, Colonel Botfield commenced to twist my collar as if he meant to choke me to death.

Judge Baxter looked at me. "Loosen your grip on the boy," he said slowly to the colonel, "before you kill him."

Colonel Botfield let me go with a box on the ears that made my head ring like a church bell. "Will you or won't you give me permission to search the house?"

"In the name of God, Horatio," put in Mr. Kirby, "let the colonel do as he asks. Ain't you and me friends as well as in-laws?"

"It's not you I object to, Daniel. It's the company you keep." The judge eyed the colonel with contempt. "That man may be your wife's brother, but he's no gentleman. Furthermore, I don't appreciate him telling me what to do in my own house. Nor do I appreciate the way he's beaten my slave."

Just then Athena came upstairs, doing her best to look puzzled by the commotion. She drew in her breath at the sight of Nate lying on the floor, but she didn't say a word.

Judge Baxter frowned at Athena. "My son's widow is apparently missing a slave child. Do you know his whereabouts?"

Athena looked at the floor. Instead of speaking up the way I expected her to, she just shook her head. "No, sir," she whispered. "I don't know nothing about it, sir."

"How about this boy?" The colonel grabbed me and gave me another teeth-rattling shake. "What the devil is Jesse Sherman doing here?"

Athena's face softened. Turning to the judge, she said, "Oh, sir, that poor child showed up this evening, begging at the back door. I fed him a few scraps and let him shelter by the fire. I didn't think you'd mind, sir."

The colonel cursed. "That's a damnable lie. I left the rascal for dead in the street at least three weeks ago. You been caring for him all this while, aiding and abetting him to steal the widow's slave child."

"Please let us search this house, Horatio," Mr. Kirby put in. "Henrietta is beside herself, she loves the child so."

I wanted to call the man a liar, but, if I spoke up, they'd all know I'd seen Perry. So, like Athena, I kept my mouth shut.

The judge sighed heavily and headed for the cellar door. "Come with me," he said to the men. "You'll soon see I have nothing to hide."

The moment the judge's back was turned, Colonel Botfield grabbed my arm and twisted it pretty near out of the socket. "No matter how this little scene plays out," he whispered, "you ain't seen the last of me, Jesse Sherman. As sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, I'll be your death, boy."

I broke away, my nose full of the brimstone smell of his smoky breath, and moved closer to Athena. Shaking with fear, she put her arm around me.

"Come along, Abednego," Mr. Kirby called from the cellar door. "Forget the boy for now."

But Colonel Botfield caught hold of me again and dragged me down the stairs behind him. "I ain't letting the scalawag out of my sight," he said.

Those three men searched the cellar from one end to the other, peering into every corner, poking and prodding, but they found nothing. It seemed Athena had spirited Perry away. Or conjured him right out of his shape. Delia had told me tales of a witch woman down in the marsh who had the power to change people into frogs or mice or whatever she chose. Maybe Athena had the same magical arts, for there wasn't a sign of Perry anywhere. I glimpsed a mouse in the corner, though, watching us with bright eyes.

At last Judge Baxter turned to Colonel Botfield. "I hope you're satisfied," he said. "Didn't I tell you the child was not in my house?"

"No, I ain't satisfied. That wench of yours has got him hid in some hidey hole only she knows about." The wily old scoundrel scowled at me and added, "This boy knows more than he's telling. If you was to hand him over to me for a few hours, I'd get the truth out of him fast enough."

To my relief, Judge Baxter shook his head. "In your hands, there's no telling what would become of him," he told the colonel. "If the boy aided and abetted, I'll see he goes to court, where he'll receive a fair trial."

"At least promise me this," the colonel said. "Lock him up and keep him till we get to the bottom of the affair. Him and your slave both."

Judge Baxter merely shrugged and said he'd consider it. "And now, gentlemen," he concluded, "if you'll excuse me, I wish to go to bed. I have a full schedule at the courthouse tomorrow."

With that, the judge led Mr. Kirby and Colonel Botfield to the back door and opened it as if he was letting out a pair of no-'count hounds. To Mr. Kirby, he said, "Daniel, our friendship will be sorely tested if you bring your brother-in-law to my house again."

After the door slammed shut behind the two, Judge Baxter bent over Nate. Athena had wiped the blood from his face and was bandaging his head. I was glad to see Nate's eyes were open but sorry to see the damage the colonel had done to him.