Soul Catcher (28 page)

^{Have taken doe into custody. Return in a fortnight. Cain.}

^{They stopped to buy some fried dough from an old Dutch woman tending a fire in a metal can. While they ate, a small crowd had gathered nearby in a park to hear a hurdy-gurdy man in a tall stovepipe hat play an organ grinder. On his shoulder sat a little monkey wearing a jacket gilded with gold and fake gems and on his small gray head a fez like a Mohammedan. The monkey was no bigger than a squirrel and had large nervous eyes that darted about the crowd. When the man was finished playing, the monkey jumped down and went among the people, collecting coins with his hat. He seemed to take little relish in his job.}

^{"See them fingers of his," Little Strofe said, "works 'em better'n a raccoon."}

^{"That monkey's straight from Afrikay," Preacher offered authoritatively. "That's where your folks is from," he said to Henry.}

^{"My folks's from down Georgia way," the Negro replied.}

^{"Like hell."}

^{"Yessum. My grandpap come from a plantation down there."}

^{"You ain't from Georgia anymore'n I am. I'm talkin' way back. Ever' nigger come from Afrikay way back."}

^{"We all comes from somewheres else way back."}

^{"Don't you get smart with me, boy," Preacher said.}

^{"Ain't gettin' nothing, massa. Just tellin' you where I's from."}

^{Preacher looked at him to see if he was secretly making fun of him; only when he was sure he wasn't did he spur his horse and move on.}

^{Late in the day they came to a river swollen by rain and spring thaws. A section of the bridge they'd been planning to cross was underwater, and so they had to ride south several miles before they found a ferry. It was a small, flat-bottomed craft manned by a thin, jug-headed fellow with a long pole. Hanging from the gunwale was a bell, which the man rang to let people know he was about to launch.}

^{"I'll have to make two trips to bring all of you over," the man informed them. Cain decided to stay behind with the girl while the other four crossed over first.}

^{"I don't like the looks a dat," Henry said warily as they boarded.}

^{"Look at it this way, Henry," Strofe kidded, "if you drown, you won't get cowhided when you get back."}

^{As they waited, the girl squatted on her haunches, watching as the ferryman slowly poled the craft across. Cain considered removing the shackles until they made the other side, but he recalled her threat from the previous night and thought better of it. He liked to consider himself generous, but he was not a fool. He fed Hermes a piece of sugar and then extended another toward her. She had to be hungry by now. She looked at his hand but turned away without taking it. When the ferryman returned, Cain and the girl proceeded to board the raft. She stood in the bow, looking straight ahead. "It might get rough," he told her. "You'll want to sit." When she didn't, he said, "I'm not asking you. Now set yourself down." The brackish water crashed into the ferry and surged over the starboard side, spilling over the deck. Hermes, normally a horse of unflappable calm, became skittish, began to prance and wag his head nervously as they crossed the churning river. The thin ferryman had all he could do to keep the craft on course. Yet he was obviously skilled in his profession. Despite the fast-moving water, he was able to negotiate the currents and ferry the boat across. In fact, they'd almost reached the far side without incident when Cain heard a noise from behind them.}

^{He turned to see a group of men on horseback congregated on the far side. They were calling out something, but the river's noise drowned out their actual words. From his saddlebag, he took out his spyglass and glassed the area along the bank. He instinctively sized up the situation, noting the wind and distance, the number of men and what they rode, the kind of weaponry that might be brought to bear against them. He counted ten men, all armed, some with Jennings repeating rifles, a few with Springfields or muskets, several already having removed their guns from scabbards and resting them across their laps, as if ready for business. One fellow on a roan saddle horse was even looking back at Cain through the scope of his rifle. At first, he thought perhaps it was just a posse from Boston and that they were here after the girl. He felt sure that they wouldn't fire on them, not with the woman there in plain view, and even if it did come to a scrape, he doubted they'd put up much of a fight, for they had little at stake. He'd seen abolitionist posses like this before. After a few shots to show they believed in their cause, they'd more than likely scatter like chickens.}

^{But as he was scoping the shoreline to the north, he saw a man mounted on a large, dappled gray farm horse. He was back among the trees, partially hidden from view, but as Cain focused in on him, he recognized the long gray beard and grizzled face, the inimitable stare of one who saw the Infinite--John Brown. He had come, after all, just as Henry predicted and just as Cain knew he would.}

^{While Cain was watching the men through the scope, he suddenly heard a gunshot crackle in the air behind him. The ferryman immediately dropped to the deck, and without someone steering the raft, it quickly started to veer off course. Cain squatted and glassed the far bank again. He could see no telltale black powder smoke there, no one having so much as raised a weapon. Instead they were scrambling up the bank for cover, heading back into a stand of willow and poplar trees. Then it occurred to Cain that they weren't the ones to have fired. He turned and looked toward the opposite side. There was Preacher in his new derby standing on the shore with Little Strofe's Boyer rifle, already having reloaded and taking aim again. The crack of another round abused the air.
The stupid bastard,
Cain thought.}

^{With that, all hell broke loose. Brown's group returned a hail of bullets, which bit and tore and slammed into the trees and rocks around them. The Strofe brothers and Henry had taken cover, but Preacher stood right out on the bank, exposed, defiantly daring them to hit him. He remained fixed there, almost as if he were posing for a daguerreotype. He reloaded in plain sight and fired again. Then he waved his arms and thumbed his nose at them. "C'mon, you yellowbellied Yankee sons-a-bitches. I'm right here. You couldn't hit a barn if'n you was standing inside it." Right then a ball ripped through his sleeve, which for some reason struck him as funny, and he laughed maniacally and did a little jig, taunting the shooters. Another round tore through the ear of Little Strofe's mule. It set the poor creature to bellowing,
"Eeee-awwww, eeee-awwww,"
and dashing off into the woods.}

^{The ferryman remained hunkered down, his hands covering his large head as balls plunked into the water around them. One
pinged
off the bell hanging from the gunwale. Cain thought of getting his Sharp's from the scabbard on the horse, but the bullets were flying all around him, and the next best thing he could do was draw his handgun and begin to return fire, though at this distance it amounted to little more than name-calling. The ferry had, by now, been swept downstream some distance, putting him well out of pistol range, though not out of reach of their rifles. The men on the far side continued to pepper the raft as it drifted wildly downstream. Cain turned to see the girl standing and waving her manacled hands toward Brown's position. "Get down, for Christ's sake," he cried. When she continued standing there waving, he crawled over to her and yanked her forcibly to the deck.}

^{"You fixing to get yourself killed?" he cried.}

^{"They're here to save me," she said, trying to squirm out of his grasp, though he held the manacles tight.}

^{"You're as likely as not to get hit."}

^{The ferry happened to slam into something then, violently tossing the three passengers and the horse across the deck. The raft had run aground on a small sandy island and now was hung up as water rushed over the opposite side, tilting the craft at a precarious angle. Hermes began to whinny apprehensively and back awkwardly away from the edge.}

^{Cain turned toward the ferryman and yelled, "Try to push us off."}

^{The man didn't budge. So Cain yelled to him, "Move the damn boat, mister."}

^{"But they're shooting at us," he cried.}

^{"I'll shoot you if you don't. And I'm a better shot."}

^{This had the desired effect, for the man jumped to his feet and grabbed hold of the pole. He went to the side of the raft, but before he attempted to free them from the shoal, he turned and flung himself into the river, and began dog-paddling for the far side.}

^{Cain grabbed hold of the pole himself and tried to shove them free, but the raft hardly budged. It was wedged firmly on the muddy island. As he was occupied with this task, he heard another splash behind him. Turning, he saw the girl being carried downstream by the water. "Damn," he cursed.}

^{He took Hermes's reins and led him to the edge of the ferry. "All right, boy," he assured the animal, whispering into its ear. "Here's your chance to show me you're worth all that sugar. Now gid-up."}

^{The animal hesitated for just a moment, then plunged into the maelstrom, with Cain clutching his mane. He tried to steer the horse toward the girl, who was some fifty feet ahead of him and being carried downstream fast, but Hermes's natural instinct was to head for shore. Cain had to keep pulling him away, yanking on his bridle. The girl flailed ineffectually at the water with both manacled hands out in front of her, the chains obviously weighing her down. Now and then her red-kerchiefed head momentarily slipped below the surface and she came up gasping and coughing and shouting something. Cain wished he'd taken the shackles off. At one point, the current swallowed her completely, and for several anxious seconds he lost sight of her. But then she popped back up like a brightly colored bobber not twenty feet in front of him. This time she appeared spent and terrified, her arms thrashing feebly, as if she'd run out of the will to struggle. She looked toward him and called again.}

^{"Help," she cried, before going under again, this time seemingly for good.}

^{Cain made a last-ditch attempt to reach her. Guiding Hermes and stroking with his free hand, he made for where he'd last seen her. When he arrived at the spot, he saw a bright swirl of red floating just beneath the surface of the brownish river water. He reached for it and clutched it, his hand pulling out of the water nothing but the red kerchief she had worn. She was gone! Desperately, he looked around for her, searching to the right and left in the churning water. Finally, weary himself and feeling Hermes starting to panic, he was about to turn and head for shore when he spotted a head break the surface a short ways downstream.}

^{"Help," she cried again. He swam toward her and when he was close enough he reached out and grabbed hold of whatever he could, grasping the collar of her dress and drawing her toward him. Holding her tight under his arm, he allowed Hermes to carry them to shore.}

^{"Let's go, boy," he cried, urging the horse on.}

^{At last having gained the far shore, he dragged her up onto the bank and, now out of range of Brown's party, collapsed in a heap. For a while, the girl lay as if dead, so he turned her on her stomach and struck her back several times, as he'd seen someone once do to a drowning victim. After a few seconds, she started coughing, spitting up all the water she'd swallowed.}

^{"You all right?" he asked after she'd stopped coughing.}

^{She nodded her head. He rolled her onto her back, then helped her to sit up. Her breathing was labored. Water dripped down her face. Her black hair, woven into long thick plaits, hung down over her face like bars. He tried brushing them back, but she pushed his hand away. She looked up at him, her eyes slate colored.}

^{"Don't 'spect me to thank you," she said.}

^{"I don't. Just looking out for my interests," he said.}

^{"You think this makes you better than them others. Well, it don't. Not by a long shot."}