“Livie’s brother is here,” I said in a cautious undertone while waving my hand for Marcus to join us. “We must come in.”
James stepped back inside the cabin to let me pass, all the while eyeballing Marcus as he came around the corner behind me. Several pine knots smoldered in the hearth, casting a dim light across the room where Livie was crawling out of bed.
“Hannah, what is you doin’ down here this time o’ . . .” Livie froze as Marcus appeared in her doorway. She cocked her head to the right and peered out of uncertain eyes. I feared she would cry out, but an aura of caution enveloped her. She took one tentative step toward Marcus, followed by another. I stepped back so Livie could get a good look at him, and when he smiled, she leapt into his arms.
Marcus held on to Livie as she sobbed against his chest. With tears glistening in his eyes, he reached over and shook James’s hand. Overcome by her brother’s return, Livie was steadied by Marcus and me as we settled at the table, where we talked in hushed voices. We were thrilled by the sight of him, and our eyes did not blink while Marcus told Livie about his escape to the North and his first steps on free soil.
“My feet didn’t feel no different, but my heart sure enough did,” he said with a huge grin. “And I aim to lay tracks for anyone who wants to do the same.”
My heart raced when he told of near capture by patrollers to the south. Tears rolled down my cheeks as he wept for those lost to the rigors of the journey. Within me, a wildfire of admiration grew in intensity with each word Marcus uttered. The sensation was disconcerting, but quickly subsided when I realized Marcus’s appearance meant Livie and I would soon say good-bye.
“Are we leavin’ tonight?” Livie asked, squeezing up and down Marcus’s arm, as though still needing physical proof of his return.
“Can’t leave yet. Things took a mighty strange turn a couple o’ days ago when I was takin’ five runaways as far as the mountain pass to the west. Once I got them on their way, I was gonna double back fo’ Livetta.” Marcus paused and looked over at James. “And her man, if he chooses.”
James put his hand on Livie’s shoulder and nodded. “We is a family. Me and Livetta is gonna build a home together up north and watch our chile grow up free.”
Livie took his hand with a nod of agreement, then looked to me with soft confession. Our time together was nearing its end. The twinge in my breast gave me premonition of my coming heartbreak. Emotion pressed between us until Marcus continued his story.
“Jes’ after sunup two mornings past, we was settlin’ in the loft of a barn out in the foothills. The barn belongs to . . . well, let’s jes’ say a
friend
. The building sits directly across the road from a livery stable, so I was keepin’ safe watch from the loft when a big buck rode in on a wagon. He stopped at the livery to fix a broken shoe on one o’ the horses. Said his massa was waitin’ fo’ him down at the inn yonder, havin’ breakfast and a hot bath. The livery boy come out to help ’em ’cuz nobody else was around. From outta nowhere, a white man showed up with a gun and tol’ them to get on round back. I thought the white man was a paddy roller, but turned out he was a slave wrangler. The buck put his hands high in the air, and says he is on Massa’s business. His hands was shakin’ when he reached in his coat pocket and gave the wrangler the day pass his massa signed fo’ him, so he wouldn’t have no trouble. The white man yanked the pass outta that slave’s hand and shoved it in his own pocket, laughin’ and sayin’ he don’t see no papers. Then he hit that buck upside the head with the barrel of his shotgun. The slave started a-beggin’,
‘
Please don’t steal me off. I gots a wife and chilluns back on Massa’s plantation
.
’ But the wrangler pressed his gun to the po’ boy’s head and say his chilluns is gonna have a dead daddy if he don’t move around back. Then he pointed his gun at the livery boy, who stood there tremblin’ like a lost pup. He marched them behind the livery, and in three blinks, a closed wagon come rollin’ out. The cries of them men, plus one or two more, called from inside the wagon as it rode off. I decided then and there to let the ones I was with move north on their own so I could follow the wrangler and save them men from a fate worse than hangin’. He rode in north o’ town here, but I lost his trail in the dark.”
When Marcus paused, a sick notion nudged me. “Did the man who stole the slaves have only one eye?”
Marcus’s head jerked up. “Like somebody dug one out with an ice pick.”
“Marse,” James grumbled. “That’s why he got me makin’ him all those chains befo’ he goes on his trips. I figured he sold the ironwork fo’ extra money.”
“You know this varmint?”
“He’s the overseer fo’ Massa Reynolds’ place over yonder,” Livie said, motioning in the direction of West Gate. “James has felt the cut of his whip mo’ than once.”
Marcus’s expression was keen with excitement. “Have you seen any new faces in the stock over there? Maybe Dead Eye said he bought ’em.”
James shook his head. “Ain’t nobody new around here. He brags on catchin’ runaways and returnin’ dem fo’ hefty reward money. He comes home with an empty wagon, far as I know.”
“But what if the wagon ain’t empty? Maybe he steals colored folk and hangs on to ’em long enough fo’ their massa to post ’em as runaways.”
“And if nobody comes lookin’ fo’ them,” James added. “Marse can auction ’em off in Kentucky. Nobody round here would know nothin’.”
Marcus paced as he considered the possibility. “It be hard to keep a passel of slaves quiet and out o’ sight. Where would he keep them fo’ a spell without folks takin’ notice?”
Suddenly, a thought sparked in my mind. “The shed!” Saying it aloud made me all the more certain I was right. They looked at me, puzzled, not knowing what I meant. “Remember the runaway, Livie? The man you thought was Marcus?”
“That’s right!” Marcus said, slapping his hands together. “You tol’ me about him when I passed through in the winter.”
“There is a shed in the back lot of Twitch’s quarters,” I explained to Livie and James. “Next to his hounds.”
“Have mercy,” James muttered. “I always wondered why nobody but Willy Jack could wander back there.”
“The man got caught up in some brambles. When I helped untangle him, he told me he wanted to go home.”
“Not the words of a runaway,” Marcus stated, fully convinced. “Point me in the direction of this shed.”
James put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “I’ll take you.”
“No, James,” Livie said anxiously. “The mornin’ bell will ring soon, and if you ain’t tappin’ on your anvil, Marse and Willy Jack will have the plantation turned upside down. Then we all will be doomed.”
“Livie is right,” I declared, knowing what had to be done. “You must begin your day as usual, so as not to create any suspicion. I will take Marcus to the shed.”
Marcus hugged Livie tightly. “Once I know the slaves are there, I will figure out a plan. Don’t say nothin’ to nobody. Jes’ go about yo’ chores, but be ready to leave quicker than the wag of a dog’s tail.”
Nothing more was said. Livie embraced Marcus, then squeezed my hand as I walked by her. Words were not needed to convey what we were feeling. The night was thinning into the pale twilight of the coming day, so Marcus and I wasted no time in immersing into the greenery of the upper tobacco fields and running their rows lengthwise toward the back lot of West Gate. The maturing crop offered enough concealment for us to blend into the shadows.
We emerged from the tobacco and crossed a stretch of rocky parcel overgrown with weeds, a neglected barrier between the two plantations. On the other side, Marcus and I found ourselves overlooking the lot I had discovered the night I met the unknown runaway. I pointed to the shed outlined in the shadows below. Marcus motioned his intent to double back over the hill above us to gain access to the building from the other side. I followed closely, treading light of foot.
My stomach tightened as the smell of dung rose in the air and reminded me how near our steps were to the sleeping hounds. When we reached the backside of the shed, Marcus held up his hand, signaling me to be still. He crept around to the door, but the heavy padlock sealed it closed. I pressed up against the shed where the shadows were darkest, in fear of being exposed to the loft above the carriage house that served as Twitch’s home. It stood a short distance to my right, and towered above the back lot.
As I waited for Marcus, I rested the side of my face against the shed, terrified of what would happen should we be found out. The flesh across the nape of my neck prickled when I heard the low wheeze of breathing from inside the shed. I leveled my eye over a slight gap between the wooden slats. The moon was nearly gone, so only dim shards of light sliced within the interior of the shed, penetrating through the structure’s imperfections. The moment my eyes adjusted to the illumination, a breath caught in my throat. Darkness muddied the details, but I could see the distinct outline of six men hunched on the dirt floor. All but one had their backs against the wall. Chains draped from their ankles and wrists; their mouths were stuffed with rags. Marcus came around the corner, and one look at my expression alerted him to my discovery. He pressed his face against a crack and then jerked back at the sight inside. He clenched his forehead with silent anguish, then bent forward and looked again, taking in the task at hand. Marcus dropped to his knees and dug his hands into the dirt. I fell in place alongside him. The soil was hard and rocky, leaving us no choice but to abandon our immediate attempt to reach the imprisoned men.
The carriage house loomed larger as the night sky thinned toward dawn. Marcus looked over at me, fraught with despair. My desire to comfort him was tempered by the instinct to ensure his safety before light came upon us. We were of one mind in knowing it was time to make our retreat. Marcus’s hand was moist with dirt when he reached for mine, but his touch was sweet and gentle. We left as silently as we came and spoke no words until we ran clear of the upper fields, into the cover of trees.
“You better get on back to the big house befo’ they find you gone,” Marcus panted as we paused to catch our breath after the long sprint.
“No,” I stated firmly. “We have to find a way to access those men back there. They are doomed as long as they are within reach of Twitch.”
“That’s my problem to figure out. A gal like you shouldn’t mix in such things.”
My converging emotions burst from me. “Why does everyone keep telling me what is right and proper for me? I am a grown woman who understands the complexities of my mind and body. No one should presume to tell me what I should think or feel. I have no intention of running on home like a good little girl, pretending all is right with the world. Besides, Livie will cover for me so my absence does not create any danger for you or those poor men in the shed. Now, I know you will attempt to free them, and I believe I can provide valuable assistance. Let’s stop wasting time and get on with it!”
Marcus’s eyes sparkled with surprise and amusement at my outburst. But mostly, he looked at me with admiration and respect for my feelings. As Marcus mulled over my words, common sense told me he would turn me away, perhaps fearful to fully trust me. But instead he took my hand and led me deeper into the thicket. We made our way to the peak using a path I had never seen. Awakened by the day’s first glimmer of sunshine, the mourning doves cooed from the treetops in the evergreen forest stretching toward the cave. We slipped inside its cool interior, our fingers still entwined, until Marcus released our connection to light a fire.
We sat opposite each other with flames crackling between us. Pine knots burned low and fragrant as shadows danced across the stone walls in every direction. Slowly, the damp air warmed. We relaxed and found ourselves staring at each other through the wisps of smoke that swirled in the air. Marcus removed his jacket and came around the fire to sit next to me.
“You cold?”
“No,” I said with a nervous smile. “I feel quite flushed at the moment.”
His molten eyes seeped into mine, but our joined purpose in helping the captives kept us focused on the greater cause. “We need to figure out a way to get in that shed,” he said earnestly. “If Dead Eye works like most slave-stealin’ mongrels, he’ll beat and starve those men half-dead, then drag ’em back to dere plantation. Nobody gonna believe the rants of a captured runaway over the word of the white man returnin’ Massa’s property. Only makes the whuppin’ worse.”
“What you describe makes sense. Twitch comes and goes quite frequently.”
“We gots’ta move quick. Ask James to meet me at sundown near the three boulders along the tree line. Have him bring hammers and chisels so we can break through them chains, and a shovel to dig our way inside. If he is willin’ to help me, we can free them in the shadow of night and still have a few hours in the dark to be on our way. Tell Livetta to wait in her cabin. We’ll come fo’ her if our plan works.”
If our plan works
. The possibility of failure, and the deathly consequences it would spawn, were too terrifying to linger over. The slim chance of them escaping would thrill me and break my heart, all at once. I filled with dread, thinking of the personal loss I would endure when left abandoned in their wake. Selfish thoughts, I admit, but true just the same. My throat tightened, choking my voice to a hoarse whisper.
“What shall I do when you all are gone?”
Sensing my anguish, Marcus shifted closer to me so we could face each other. “Remember us,” he said with hushed tenderness. “Remember our cause. You renewed my belief that not all white hands are holding us down. Some are committed to reach out and help us rise from the ashes. You planted a healing seed inside us.”
I was not aware of my tears until he touched each one where they fell on my cheek. He gently took my hand and laced our fingers together, then turned our hands upward in a familiar sign of promise. With the promise understood and the light of day creeping into our sanctuary, our fingers released and I bid him farewell.
Leaving Marcus hidden in the belly of the cave, I rushed down from the peak and through the fields toward Hillcrest. When the homestead was in sight, I slowed to a casual walk, playacting an early morning stroll for the benefit of any eyes taking notice.