Soul Catcher (30 page)

^{Cain was never not aware of Rosetta riding behind him. He had taken off the shackles so she could hold on to him as they rode. Each movement of the horse, each dip or rise in the road, shifted her in ways that made him conscious of her presence all over again. When they climbed a hill he could feel her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt, pressing into his paunch, her body leaning sharply into his. When he forded a stream or had to slow down suddenly, he would feel her arms tighten around his waist ever so slightly. When she herself realized she was doing this she would pull away from him, and that, too, he was aware of. He objected when she slid backward too far, onto Hermes's kidneys, a particularly tender section for any horse, but especially on an Arabian. When she sat hard on the horse he would pin his ears back in annoyance or kick out or snort his displeasure. Cain would have to remind her to slide up toward him more, which she seemed indisposed to do. And once when Cain had stopped to feed him, she must have kneed him as she was dismounting and he scooted sideways, causing her to fall to the ground.}

^{"You all right?" he asked.}

^{She didn't answer. She got to her feet and dusted herself off.}

^{"He doesn't like to be kicked like that."}

^{"Tell him it ain't my idea to be on him in the first place," she replied.}

^{Mostly they rode in silence, though now and then he'd ask if she were thirsty or if she had to relieve herself, or tell her to hold tight as they crossed a fast-moving stream. Cain, still chilled from getting wet, resorted frequently to sips of laudanum as a curative. At one point he turned to Rosetta and offered the flask. "Here," he said.}

^{"I don't partake of spirits," she replied.}

^{"It's medicinal. Good for what ails you."}

^{"That stuff doan do a body no good."}

^{"How would you know?"}

^{"There used to be this slave name of Willy. He work on Mr. Eberly's plantation. He took to drinking corn licker and drank hisself into an early grave."}

^{"Suit yourself," Cain said as he took another sip before putting the flask away.}

^{Late one day they came upon a lonely farmhouse set back a ways from the road. They decided to stop and inquire if they might water the horses. The house was in bad repair, the roof missing shingles, the front steps rotted and sagging. Several windowpanes were broken and had pieces of oilcloth covering them. Discarded farm equipment littered the front yard, which had not been touched by a scythe in ages. A rusty plowshare, several broken wagon wheels, various hoes and rakes and spades--all were scattered in the high grass as if they'd been left there one evening after a day's work long ago and simply forgotten. Just off the porch were the scattered remains of a recently slaughtered Rhode Island Red chicken, its bright, bloodstained plumage strewn over the grass. The barn, too, was in shambles, with the front door hanging off its hinges and much of the chinking cracked and falling out.}

^{As they rode up, a fierce-looking black dog, tied to a post in the front yard, took to barking viciously at them. It yanked on its chain until it was hoarse. Little Strofe put a rope on his two hounds and held them on a tight leash as they drew near.}

^{An old woman sat on the porch in a rocking chair. She seemed to be soaking her feet in a bucket of water in front of her. She stared at them as they came up, but for some time she didn't make a move nor did she offer a word in greeting. She looked almost in a trance. Cain had an odd notion that she'd been waiting for them. She had wild gray hair that was uncovered and uncombed, and a filthy apron over an equally filthy dress of homespun. Bone thin, her eye sockets and jaws sunken in shadow, the old woman had the distracted look of a person not completely in charge of her wits. Cain could see that she wasn't quite as old as he had at first taken her for. She was perhaps in her sixties and might at one time have been a handsome woman, with strong, even features, though now she appeared mostly done in, bankrupt of some inner life force.}

^{"Hush," she cried finally to the dog. When the dog continued its racket, she said, "I should have seen to you already." Then she lifted her feet out of the water, picked up the bucket, and carried it to the edge of the porch, whereupon she tossed the water at the dog. The dog immediately stopped barking and cowered, though it did let out one or two deep-throated growls before falling silent and lying down on the grass. The woman turned her attention back to the riders.}

^{"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked.}

^{"We were wondering, ma'am," Cain began, "if we might water our horses. And if you could spare them some feed, too, we'd gladly pay you."}

^{She looked at him, then at the others, taking note of the shackles on Henry's wrists. She leaned sideways to look around Cain and gaze on the girl in the saddle behind him.}

^{"Are they runaway slaves?" she asked.}

^{"Yes, ma'am," he replied.}

^{"Then I guess that'd make you gentlemen slave catchers?"}

^{"That it would. We could move on if you'd prefer."}

^{She stared at Cain, then glanced back over her shoulder into the house. She stood there, hugging her thin arms around the dry husk of her body. "That's for your conscience to puzzle over, not mine," she said.}

^{Wordlessly she led them back to a water trough out near the barn. She pumped water from a pump and then showed them where the hayrack was.}

^{"Don't have any oats or corn. That's all been used up."}

^{"This will be just fine," Cain said.}

^{"How about yourselves? Are you boys hungry?" she asked. "I don't have much, but you're welcome to share what food I have."}

^{"We'd sure appreciate a home-cooked meal, ma'am," Strofe said.}

^{Later, they sat at her kitchen table, all of them except the two Negroes, whom Strofe had manacled to a chestnut tree over near the barn. The house had a peculiar smell to it, a cloyingly sweet odor like burned leather. Before they ate, the old woman bowed her head and said grace. "Thank you Lord for the bountiful food we are about to eat." Though she put some food on her own plate, she hardly touched it. Now and then she'd look over her shoulder into a back room, the way a person might watch for the arrival of a stagecoach, as if she was expected somewhere at a certain time and didn't want to be late.}

^{"This is mighty good," Strofe said to the woman.}

^{"Just chicken stew."}

^{"Are you all alone here?" Cain asked.}

^{The old woman hesitated for a moment, as if it were a question she'd never contemplated before and the implications of its answer led her out in several dizzying directions at once. "Why . . . yes, I am."}

^{"Who helps you around the place?"}

^{"My sons used to. But with the banks' failure, they had to pack up and move out west. I manage all right."}

^{While they were still eating, she got up and fixed two plates, and brought them and a pitcher of buttermilk out to the runaways.}

^{"The hell's that stink?" Preacher said. "Smells like she got her a dead rat somewheres about."}

^{The old woman was gone for a long while. Cain grew suspicious finally and got up and followed her out. He found her seated on the grass, talking to the two Negroes while they ate. As he approached, they fell silent. Behind them the sun was setting, casting long orange spears of light over the branches of the chestnut. The old woman's frizzy hair caught the sunlight and glowed like a dandelion seed on fire.}

^{"Everything all right, ma'am?" he asked, squatting down. He glanced over at Rosetta, who traded looks with the woman before angling her head down toward her plate.}

^{"Just chatting," the old woman said lightly, struggling to stand.}

^{Cain offered his hand to help her up. Hers felt like a small broken- winged bird, and she was as light as a feather pillow. As they headed back to the house, she paused and turned toward him. "May I ask where you're bringing them?"}

^{"Home," Cain said.}

^{"That's a peculiar thought," she said. "Whose? Yours or theirs?"}

^{Cain had never thought about it in such terms before.}

^{"Virginia," he replied.}

^{"What is your name, young man?"}

^"Cain."

^{"Like in the Bible," she said, the faintest blush of a smile turning her face almost coquettish. She seemed to be flirting with him. "That your Christian name?"}

^{"No. Augustus is."}

^{"May I call you Augustus?"}

^{"Whatever you'd like, ma'am."}

^{"My name is Hettie. You would be about my older boy's age, Ephraim. He was tall and broad through the shoulders like you. A fine-looking boy. Not so heavy as you."}

^{Cain nodded, amusing the old woman.}

^{"She's hardly more than a girl," she said, tossing her head back toward Rosetta. "Such a comely young thing to be chained up like a dog."}

^{"She would run if not for the chains. She's tried it before."}

^{"Wouldn't you in her place?"}

^{"I suppose."}

^{"Any feeling creature would."}

^{"Thing is, ma'am, I have a job to do."}

^{"Don't we all have jobs to do?" she said cryptically. "You almost couldn't tell from just looking at her."}

^{Cain assumed the old woman was talking about how light-skinned she was.}

^{"You won't let anything happen to her, will you, Augustus?" she said, more statement than question.}

^{"I have to bring her back, ma'am, if that's what you mean. I have . . ." He was going to explain his situation, but he said only, "Obligations."}

^{"But you'll see that no harm comes to her," she said.}

^{"Of course."}

^{She looked at him, her loose eyes momentarily catching hold of his.}

^{"Can I trust you, Augustus?"}

^{"That all depends."}

^{She reached into the pocket of her apron and took out a small cloth change purse. It jingled with coins. She handed it to him.}

^{"Would you see that she gets that?"}

^{"She's a runaway. She's not supposed to have money."}

^{"But you'll see that she gets it all the same."}

^{She looked up at Cain with those wild eyes of hers.}

^{"Are you sure you don't need it, ma'am? All alone like you are." "I am beyond needing very much of anything in this life, Mr. Cain. There is just me. And the dog," she said, glancing over at the animal who lay sleeping on the ground. "And we have plans. You'll see that she gets it?"}

^{Finally, he said, "I'll see that she gets it."}

^{They went back inside, and while Cain finished his meal, she cleaned up from dinner. As she worked, she hummed a tune, a sad, lilting air.}

^{"What's that you're humming, ma'am?" Little Strofe asked. She turned from drying the dishes, her expression vacant. "It's called 'Lilly Dale.'"}