Authors: Keeping Faith
“How could they have remained hidden from the townsfolk?” Joseph asked.
Buck grinned and waved his hand. “Most everybody in town’s seen Naaman and Josetta, and they think we own them, of course. Not all of them approve, but we don’t dare tell them any different. To most folks, black skin is black skin. They don’t pay much attention past that. So if Clement and his wife, Miriam, are seen working on the house or helping me with the horses, no one seems to notice the difference between them and Naaman and Josetta. It’s like they don’t have faces.”
Francine beckoned both men to the table. “Joseph, come and keep Buck company while Heidi and I make sure Victoria eats and gets cleaned up. We’ve already blessed the food.”
Buck helped his wife carry a tray for Victoria, then returned to the table across from Joseph and dug into the food. Joseph followed his lead and tasted the best bite of beef that had ever crossed his teeth.
Buck was watching his face, and he gave a huge grin. “Good, isn’t it? My wife learned how to cook when we got here, and was I ever glad. I was afraid we’d go broke finding a place to eat out every night, the way we did in St. Louis. Turns out Miss Cora Lou, the pastor’s wife, has the only eatin’ place in the village, and she was being run over with work when the wagon trains came through. I told Francine maybe it’d be neighborly to help her out, and maybe learn a little about her recipes.”
“How’d that work for you?” Joseph asked, relishing the tender roast.
“Like that,” Buck said with wide, friendly eyes as he pointed at Joseph’s fork. “My woman’s a fast learner. Then she decided to teach me. Said we’d have us a passel of kids someday and it was about time I trained for it now.”
“You’re truly a blessed man. Victoria seems to think it’s because you and Francine bless others so well.”
“Did she also tell you how she found us?” The smile—which had until now appeared to be a fixture on Buck’s broad, friendly face—eased away slowly until his expression was grim. “Francine and I took some cattle to the sale barn one day a few years ago. Cattle were selling well and we were going to have us a good meal before catching the ferry back across the Mississippi.”
“You lived in Illinois, as well?”
Buck nodded. “You?”
“I had a ranch there once. What happened to you that day?”
“Big man held a gun on us and tried to rob us of the money from our cattle. I fought and shouldn’t have. He shot me in the gut, near killed me, left me unable to protect my wife. Had his big ol’ nasty paws on my Francine, was hitting her and manhandling her to the ground when a freedman attacked him and dragged him off Francine. Poor man was shot by Otto Duncan for his troubles.”
“Otto Duncan, the blackheart,” Joseph muttered.
Buck put his fork down and leaned forward. “You heard Otto Duncan murdered his neighbor last year? The one who owned the folks we’ve got in hiding?”
“I heard.”
“You ever hear why he did it?” Buck’s expression had darkened with remembered anger.
“I understand he enjoys killing.”
“He hated his neighbor for freeing slaves. That neighbor of his, he’d purchase slaves at the market like the rest of his cohorts, but once his slaves worked for him for seven years, he released ’em. Freed ’em. In fact, most of the folks working for him were freed slaves who chose to stay on for pay so’s they could have their own place someday.”
“That’s why he was murdered?” Joseph thought about his brother in Georgia. What if one of their neighbors took exception to the way Blake handled the plantation slaves, teaching them to read and write, building them a church, making sure they had time with their families?
“That freedman, he probably saved Francine’s life when I couldn’t,” Buck said. “Our attacker got away.”
“Where were the police?”
“Where they always are when violence breaks out—somewhere else. Then this tall doctor comes out and tries to save the life of the freedman, but it was too late. So he practically carried Francine and me to his clinic, where his wife was already setting up to treat our wounds. Francine was crushed after what she’d seen, and scared for me, what with the blood and all. Victoria held her and let her cry, treated her wounds, prayed with her and helped comfort the deeper wounds that didn’t show with the blood and cuts. They made us stay with them long enough for us both to heal.” Buck’s calm, deep voice was a soothing balm through the huge room.
“Matthew and Victoria were friends of mine as well, with pretty much the same story,” Joseph said. “Are you still running cattle?”
“Nope.” Buck picked up his fork again, scraped his plate clean and pushed away from the table. “I kind of took after Matthew, hung around his place, studied how I might make some of his medicines and surgeries work for my cattle, keep them from sickening so often. So now I’m the town doc for humans and animals alike.” He reached into the stove and pulled out a pan of something that smelled spicy-sweet. “Granted, I’m nothing when it comes to Victoria’s knowledge, but we get by here. Lots of travelers come through, and they always seem to need medicines for man or beast.”
“So that’s why Heidi was able to find feverfew and laudanum.”
“That’s right. We get wagons with supplies through here every so often. Cake?” He held up a bowl and spoon. “My own recipe, spicy black walnut apple cake. Sorry we don’t have topping for it. I used the last of our black walnut apple jam to celebrate the coming of our first young’un.”
“I’d love some, but if you dish it out I’ll take it to the ladies first, then the boys. How did you manage to hide the Africans all the way across Missouri?”
Buck deftly filled bowls with the cake and plopped a spoon into each. “I had some scouting experience in the eastern part of the state. We took pretty much the same route you did, only deeper in the trees.”
“On foot? No animals?”
Buck nodded. “That’s where we all had to forage and hunt. They arrived with us here in the dead of night and lodged in the cave. Not a lot of folks in these parts go down into the cave because too many folks’ve had accidents down there. A couple have died. Bad footing.”
“How do your friends keep from falling?”
“I grew up near here and knew about another entrance, a sinkhole on the other side of the mountain. Then when we built this place, we cut into the side of the cliff and made another entry.”
“So your friends in the field can come and go without being seen.”
“That’s right.”
“No one else in town knows about the friends?”
Buck shook his head. “The fewer who know a secret, the safer you are with that secret. The problem is, now that Naaman and Josetta left openly with your wagon train this afternoon, it’ll be harder to explain any of our friends.”
“Unless we take them with us.” Joseph gathered the bowls and headed toward the bedroom where he could hear the women laughing and talking.
He knocked softly. “Mind if I interrupt with dessert?”
The door swung open and Heidi’s eyes widened when she saw the bowls. “Captain, you realize we’ll have to stay here awhile, don’t you?” She took the bowls and passed them around, gathered the plates and flatware. “The doctor can’t travel like this, and we don’t even have a wagon she can ride in now.”
“I’ll be able to ride by tomorrow,” Victoria said.
“No need,” Joseph said. “McDonald hasn’t had time to gather the others from down south. He has several stops to make.”
Victoria closed her eyes and rested her head against her pillow. “I’ve discovered I don’t make a good patient.”
Joseph chuckled. “You’re just now finding that out? I could have told you what a horrible patient you would make.” And how beautiful she was in spite of her illness.
Heidi and Francine giggled. Victoria made a face at him.
“You’re independent and you don’t like to put others out,” he said. “You try to carry the whole world on your shoulders so no one else will have to worry about it.” How he loved that in her.
The women stopped giggling. Heidi sighed softly. Victoria’s eyes widened.
“So for now,” he said, “you need to practice being a good patient so you’ll be healed by the time we leave. I’m going to need Buck’s help figuring out a way to get their friends to Neosho without being caught.”
“You aren’t forgetting Duncan, are you?” Victoria asked. “Francine told me he likes to range far and wide with his hunting dogs, and what about the posse Thames mentioned?”
“Duncan comes from north of the Missouri River. That’s a long ride. Thames might even have been bluffing. Remember, Silver Tail won’t be getting word to anyone about anything now.”
“You should plan for Duncan, just in case,” Francine said. “You know the kind of man he is. If he’s caught word about our friends, you can be sure he’ll head this way, even if only for some wicked sport.”
“We won’t underestimate him,” Joseph assured her. “I think he may be underestimating our knowledge of this area, especially Buck’s. For the time being, Victoria, you focus on healing. Let Buck and me work on other things.”
He gave her a long, reassuring look, and then he turned toward the door as his assurance slipped away. Too much could go wrong. Too many lives were at stake. He desperately sought help from God as he closed the door behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
T
hree mornings after arriving at the Frasier home, Victoria decided she was ready to travel. Between Francine’s abundant trays of food and Heidi and Buck trying different concoctions on her wound to heal the infection in her body, she figured if she didn’t ride out of town sometime today they would kill her with kindness.
She dressed the aching wound on her thigh and bound it tightly. Much of the worst pain was gone. Must’ve been the salve Buck gave her yesterday. He used it on cattle, horses and goats, and the thought of that made her chuckle to herself.
Not only was her wound healing, but the sharp edge of pain in her heart was easing. Yes, she’d killed two men. She had once vowed to never take a human life, even if it meant losing her own. How young and naive she’d been then.
Taking the life of murderers to save the life of a man who was still half boy had been instinctive. With a battle heating up outside the front door of the Frasier home, she faced the fact that she might have to do more shooting, take more lives to protect the innocent. No matter how much she wanted to remain untouched by death, she was already in the middle of it and there was no way out.
Heidi was also steeped in death, and the heaviness of her spirit haunted her face, darkened her smile. Francine’s loving grace and Buck’s playful kindness had kept the young woman occupied so that the shock of her loss wasn’t as obvious. For now. Later she would suffer. Victoria mustn’t leave her alone.
Someone knocked on the door lightly. “May I come in?” It was Joseph.
She slid her skirt down and stood to walk to the door. Barely a limp. “I’m up.” She opened the door to find him hovering in the doorway holding a mug of coffee. He looked better to her than the coffee or any of the delicious meals or desserts he’d delivered to her these past days.
“It’s your favorite.” He held the mug out for her. “Fresh cream, skimmed off the top.”
“You remembered how I liked it.” She thanked him and took the mug, then walked beside him to join the others who were already working around the breakfast table. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had my coffee this way. At least since before we left St. Louis.”
Joseph held a chair out for her and helped her seat herself. “I always loved to see your eyes light up when you were enjoying your coffee.”
She looked up at him and sustained his gaze, recalling the mornings he’d met her for breakfast at her brother’s house in St. Louis before the day’s work began. How different he’d seemed then. Younger, of course, though burdened with responsibility—especially after their arguments began about his need to follow his father’s wishes and return to Georgia. These days he carried a greater load on his shoulders with much more confidence and less angst.
“Just wait,” Francine said, turning from the stove, “until you taste your coddled eggs and bacon. Heidi cooked the potatoes and onions good and crisp, the way we like ’em here.”
“Absolutely.” Victoria was aware Joseph’s attention was still on her. “Heidi has gained a reputation as an excellent cook.”
How good it felt to spend time with Buck and Francine. Their home offered a spirit of healing balm for anyone who stepped through the doors. Perhaps that was why the claw wound was less painful than expected.
Buster and Gray came clomping down the stairs with slow deliberation. Buster picked up a pot to scrub, silent for once. Gray gathered plates to set at the table, as quiet as his brother, gloom heavy in his expression.
“Is everything okay?” Victoria asked.
“Buster heard some news down at the stables this morning,” Joseph said.
“Not something that will be fretted over at breakfast,” Francine warned.
“That murderer’s on his way.” Buster scrubbed at an extra tough spot on the cast-iron skillet.
“I see.” Victoria took another sip of her coffee and refused to let the news squelch her enjoyment. “I’m sure we’ll be prepared by the time he arrives.”
“We don’t have everything ready yet.” Gray slid a plate and fork beside her mug. “Enoch and Bart and Samuel worked all night on their flat bottoms.”
Victoria blinked at him, hesitant to ask.
“Boats,” Gray explained. “The creeks are high, and even though it’d be a roundabout way to get to Neosho, Shoal Creek will take us where we need to go. Buster and I’ve been keeping watch while everyone else works on the flat-bottom boats, but the poles aren’t ready, and we need good poles because we’ll be pushing our way up the creek.”
“When did you last speak to the men?” Joseph asked.
“Couple hours ago,” Buster said.
“It shouldn’t take much time to cut some good poles,” Joseph said. “Buck found the horses you released on Tuesday. He got their saddles, bridles and all, and since their owners will no longer have use for them, some of the ladies can double up on them.”
Victoria returned to her perusal of the man she admired more than any other and was startled by the sudden direction of her thoughts; he would make an excellent father. Why hadn’t she noticed this sooner? His patience with the younger ones impressed her.
“The guy who rode into the stables said there’s got to be at least four or five dogs with that killer and his pals,” Buster said.
“Did he say how long he thinks it’ll take for them to arrive here?” Joseph asked.
“Maybe a few hours. I don’t know what he meant by a few.” Buster finished the pot, wiped it off and sank onto a chair.
“The horses are ready,” Joseph said. “Food’s packed, medical supplies aplenty. We have enough weapons and ammunition to fight off a dozen men, maybe more.”
“I’d hate shooting dogs,” Gray said.
Victoria took a heartening swallow of her coffee. “I don’t believe dogs are typically vicious, especially if they’re well fed.”
“They won’t be,” Joseph said. “Dogs are usually starved just before a hunt so they’ll have an appetite for their kill.”
“I can almost hear the hounds now,” Buster said.
The front door slammed open and Buck came stomping inside with chunks of wood for the cookstove, buffing the soles of his shoes on the front mat. “Y’all aren’t waiting for me to eat, are you?”
“You’re worth waiting for,” Francine said playfully. “No better time than the present to gather together and say our prayers. These boys are likely to blow steam from their ears if they aren’t given something to keep them busy.”
“Duncan’s coming,” Joseph warned Buck.
“Well, then, that does give us reason for prayer.” He seated himself at the head of the table as the others took their chairs. He held his hand out to his wife and indicated with a nod that all were to do the same. Victoria grasped Heidi’s slender hand with a quick pat of reassurance and then felt the warmth of Joseph’s strength as Buck beseeched the Almighty to protect them from Duncan, the killer of slaves and neighbors alike.
Victoria had been in other situations where friends beseeched God for protection. She’d felt this kind of camaraderie and love before with Francine and Buck, but always before, Matthew had been present. She peeked sideways at Joseph and saw him watching her. He gave her a slow nod of encouragement, squeezed her hand and closed his eyes.
By the time Buck was finished, her appetite was back, and she dug into her coddled eggs and bacon, fried potatoes and coffee, French toast with butter and honey. At least they would be filled if they had to leave in a hurry, though as the boys and men continued to murmur and mutter at the west end of the table about their plans for leaving, they also filled and refilled their plates with the abundant food, and Victoria felt empathy for the poor beasts that would be carrying their burdens.
“Francine,” she said quietly to her friend, who sat next to Heidi, “have you and Buck considered coming with us?”
“It’s all we’ve talked about.” Francine indicated her huge stomach, glanced toward the men and blushed. One didn’t speak aloud about such things in proper society, and Victoria knew Francine had been taught proper etiquette in her well-to-do home back East. “The little one’s on its way any day,” she whispered.
“Yes. I’ve already seen the signs.” That was what Victoria had feared. “I’ve wondered if, perhaps, it might be sooner than a few days.”
Francine patted her arm and chuckled. “Don’t fret yourself, my dear. Women have been doing this since Genesis. I figure I’m fit for the task.”
Victoria noted that there was no denial in her friend’s answer. She watched Francine’s movements closely, and she caught Heidi’s look of blue-eyed innocence. If word got out that Buck and Francine had been aiding so-called runaways, their lives, and the life of their baby, could be at risk.
* * *
Joseph stood watching out the window after a farewell meal at the noon hour with the Africans in the large upper chamber of Buck and Francine’s home. The morning had sped by far too quickly. He could feel the tension of impending battle loom over the town. Buster or Gray returned to the house every hour or so with news about the boat building, and he wanted to be there helping. He couldn’t. He had to keep watch. Anything could go wrong.
He spotted Victoria on the bench at the side of the house, her head bowed, her soft hair fluttering in the breeze. How he wanted to be a world away with her, running his hands through that beautiful hair, raining abundant kisses on that delicate face, sharing all the love he’d held inside for her all these years. Instead, they were here in sight of danger.
He settled onto the bench beside her, and he could almost feel her anxiety impact the air that surrounded her. “You know, there are a lot of hunting dogs in Missouri,” he said. “What if that person Buster overheard this morning was mistaken? Those dogs they mentioned could have belonged to anyone.” He reached out and touched her arm. It felt as he had known it would feel—like silken sunshine.
She took a shaky breath. “Or perhaps to the man at the stables, ‘a few’ means six hours, or even eight to ten hours, instead of four or five.”
He slid his hand down to hers. She grasped it, held on tightly. The warmth flooded him. For her, with her, he could do anything.
“Or Duncan might not be in such a big hurry after all,” he said, returning the pressure. “He might have stopped along the way to rest.”
“Or to visit.” Her hand lost its grip.
He glanced at the suddenly grim shape of her profile, the clenching of her jaws, and he hated the ominous sound of her voice. “What do you mean?”
“Do you remember I told you John Brown believed Otto Duncan was a member of the Knights of the Golden Circle?”
“I remember.”
She nodded, eyes closing as her lips pressed together until they were white.
“You think he’s rounding up some friends to help him hunt?” Joseph asked.
“If he believes John or one of his sons could be in the vicinity, a killer like Duncan would do anything to stop them, and he’ll take all the help he can get.” She leaned her head back against a smoothly hewn log. “I’ve been thinking. How likely is it that no one at all in this town has noticed the other Africans?”
“You’re worried for Buck and Francine.”
“I wish they’d come with us, but Francine can’t travel now.” Victoria stood slowly, as if in pain, and released his hand. He felt as if the sky dimmed.
“Is your wound hurting you?”
“It’s stiff. I need to be ready to move.”
“You need more laudanum.” He stood with her.
“No, I need my wits about me.” She walked across the porch and back. “The men should have everything ready to go by now.”
“Buster knows where I am. He said I’d know when they were ready for us.” Francine had been insistent on sharing today’s noon meal with all their friends as a farewell, and though many had chafed at the delay, they’d had to agree that they needed a good meal in their stomachs. Buck, the boys, Heidi and several of the African women had done the work while Francine supervised. At Victoria’s insistence, Francine remained seated with her feet up.
Before Joseph could comment again on Victoria’s concern for her friend’s health, he heard a sound that chilled him to his core. It was the baying of hounds.
* * *
Victoria sucked in her breath so hard she felt woozy. “Joseph!”
He stepped to her side and took her hand. “Remember what we said? It could be anyone’s dogs.”
“I think we were wrong.”
“Settle yourself. We’re almost ready to leave. We need to stick to the plan.”
She squeezed his hand until she saw him wince.
“You’ve got a mighty firm grip for such a gentle woman,” he murmured.
“Sorry. I feel as if the earth is moving from beneath us.”
He took her arm. “No time to allow the food to settle. We’re going. Our people need to get down to the cave now, and Buck and Francine need to hide the entrance.”
“I still hate leaving them.”
“So do I, but our getting as far away as possible without alerting anyone will be their best protection.”
“The dogs can smell their way to a cave entrance if they know what they’re hunting,” she said.
“Then we’d better hope we can get out the other side before they arrive.”
Victoria reached for the door and looked over her shoulder to see three men on horses following four hounds trotting down the main street of town. To her relief, they weren’t coming toward the house, but their attention was drawn to the west.
Joseph groaned. “What’s Buster doing now?”
The raw-boned young man stood a couple of hundred feet away from them, not far from the outside entry to the cave—the one Buck had said was dangerous. Buster held a large package covered in sackcloth. He tossed it into the air and caught it, kicked a couple of rocks so hard they splashed into the creek below. He appeared not to notice the approaching group and seemed deaf to the loud baying of the hounds.
Victoria thought she heard him chuckle. Loudly. She caught her breath. “He’s taunting them. That kid’s going to get himself and the rest of us killed.”
The dogs picked up speed, followed by the horses and riders.
“They’re following him, sure enough,” Joseph said.
“Why? What interest would those men have in Buster?”
“He’s using something to scatter a scent to draw the dogs. See how he’s tossing that sack? Those men no longer have control. The hounds do.”