The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (13 page)

She scoffed when
I reminded her of this. I have no choice but to allow the insolent girl to
continue as she has. I am ashamed to say that I cannot care for myself. But
then, I have not been raised to care for myself, have I? I am only waiting for
the war to be over so that Thomas will return and marry me. Then he will take
care of me and all the drudgery and difficulty will be over.

I regretted my
hasty outburst of truthfulness with Captain Riley, as I feared it would cause
him to turn away and leave us to our own devices. Oddly enough, however, the
news does not seem to have cooled his affection for Cat. This relieves me
greatly. I only hope he will marry her soon.

Before Thomas
returns from the war.

Chapter Seven

December 1864

Cold wind bit through Camilla’s threadbare shawl and
whipped at her thin dress as she gripped her rifle and crept stealthily toward
the moving bushes. Her stomach growled and hope rose in her throat. Only last
week Mrs. Cates’ last remaining slave had knocked on the door, asking Camilla
if she’d seen a loose pig. Apparently the animal had broken its rope on the way
to the
slaughter house
and had gone missing.

She had not seen the pig. And if she were to find such
a treasure, she certainly wouldn’t be returning it to Mrs. Cates. How could she
forget the woman’s insulting words to her on the day Mother was buried?
Besides, the thought of roasted ham made her mouth water and her
stomach ache
.

The bushes moved again. Camilla cocked the rifle,
ready to plug a hole into the pig as soon as it stuck its little pink snout out
of that brush.

“Lawd Almighty, don’ shoot, miss.”

Fear shook Camilla from her head to her toes and she
nearly dropped the rifle. “Wh–who is it?”

“Now, I
be
coming out wif my
hands in the air. You gonna shoot me?”

“I’m making no promises. Show yourself immediately.”

Slowly, a young man appeared, as black as night.
Obviously a runaway.

“What are you doing on my land?” Forcing a bravado she
was far from feeling, Camilla pointed the gun barrel at the slave. “I insist
you tell me where you’ve come from. Who is your master?”

“I don’ got no master no more.”

“Fiddlesticks. You must tell me so that I may send you
home immediately.” Perhaps there was a reward for such a strapping young buck
as this.

He smiled, the flash of his white teeth making a startling
contrast to the darkness of his skin. “I guess you ain’t heard. Pres-ee-dent
Lincoln done freed all us slaves. You cain’t send me nowheres.”

Alarm shot through Camilla at his audacity. “Yes,
well. That fool Lincoln doesn’t make the rules for the Confederacy.”

“Miss, I–I’d be beholden to ya if ya’d point dat
dere gun somewheres else than at my gut.”

“You’re in no position to be asking for favors, boy.”

“Yes’m, I knows dat. But seein’ as how dere’s a
mean-lookin’
hawg
over by dat tree lookin’ like he
might charge, I’d like da chance to
mebbe
hep
ya.”

“Wh–what?” Camilla turned and came face to face
with an angry hog.

“Now, miss, don’ run.”

Ignoring the soft words, Camilla screamed, dropped the
rifle, and took off toward the house.

Behind her, she heard the squeals and grunts of an
angry hog, mixed with a scream of pain. She stopped short, tears flowing, and
turned. Horrified, she observed a wrestling match between man and beast. And
the beast seemed to be winning.

Fighting the urge to plug her ears against the sounds,
Camilla knew what had to be done. Strength from deep inside flooded her and she
flew into action. She raced back to where she’d flung the rifle. Her movement
drew the hog’s attention.

The man lay still. Even from her distant vantage point,
Camilla saw his bloody arm.

Stuffing the rising fear, she grabbed up the gun,
which miraculously had failed to discharge when she dropped it, despite the
fact that it was cocked. Her heart beat furiously in her ears.

The beast barreled toward her. As though time slowed,
she worked methodically. She raised the rifle, aimed carefully, remembering
Cat’s instructions, and squeezed the trigger. The hog let out a bloodcurdling
squeal and dropped dead at her feet, a bullet lodged between its open eyes. Camilla
dared not move. She held her breath and stared unblinking at the hog until her
lungs screamed for air. Only when she was sure the thing was really dead could
she find the courage to look past the beast.

“Boy, are you alive?”

A weak moan came in reply.

Shaking violently, she took an unsteady step toward
the slave. She kept a tight grip on the rifle, eyeing the hog as though it
might come back to life and attack.

“Camilla?” Cat’s voice called from the edge of the
woods. “Where are you?”

“O–over here, Cat. I need help.”

Seconds later, Cat crashed through the brush. She
stopped short, and stared. Camilla relished the priceless look of surprise on
her face.

The need to remain in control bolstered her courage.
She resisted the urge to run crying into Cat’s arms and turning everything over
to her. If only Mother could see her now. She, Camilla, had killed a hog and
possibly saved a man’s life.
Even if he were just a slave.

“What on earth happened here? Who is that?”

“I don’t know, but he needs our help.”

“He’s fainted.” Cat knelt beside the Negro man. “His
arm is bleeding badly. Give me your shawl.”

“I’ll freeze!”

Cat scowled deeply, turning flashing brown eyes on
her. “I need something to tie up his wound before he bleeds to death. Give it
to me before I take it away from you by force.”

Indignation rose in Camilla. She removed the shawl
from her shoulders and stomped toward Cat. “Move aside. I will bind the wound
myself. You ride for the Yankee doctor in town. The Northerners came all the
way down here and fought this war to free slaves like him; surely they’ll
travel five miles to offer medical help.”

Cat made no move to do as she was told.
Rather, she stared up at Camilla. “How will you get him inside?”

She hadn’t thought of that. “Bring me some
blankets to keep him warm. Then hurry to town and bring back the doctor and
your Captain Riley to help.”

“All right.” Cat nodded and stood. “But
bind the wound tightly. As badly as he’s bleeding, he’ll be dead before I get
back.”

Camilla’s stomach weakened at the sight
of the bloody arm. She gathered a deep breath and fought against the swimming
in her head. This was no time to faint. But suddenly, her bravado fled.

Cat shook her arm. “Can you do this? Or
should I stay here while you go for the supplies and Captain Riley?”

“I–I’ll do it. Just show me--”

“For mercy’s sake, Camilla.” Cat snatched
the shawl and knelt beside the wounded man.

The man’s eyes shot open. He snatched at
Cat’s hands.

“Shh.” Cat took his hands and laid them
on his chest. “I must bind your wound or you’re going to lose too much blood
before I can return with help. Do you understand?”

“My eyes thought
dey
be
starin
’ straight at a angel of de Lawd.”

Cat smiled. “Your eyes are going to feel
mighty foolish when you get well. I’m no angel.”

“’Bout as close as
dey
come.”

Over Cat’s shoulder, Camilla observed the
wounded man slide his massive hand over Cat’s.
A bold move
for a slave to do to a white woman.
Or one who looked white anyway.
Somehow, he held Cat’s gaze and the young woman ceased her ministrations.

“For heaven’s sake, Cat. Are you going to
finish binding the wound, or sit and stare at him all day? You’re the one who
said we had to hurry or he’s as good as dead. Here, I’m feeling better. I’ll
finish up. You go.”

The sharp words had their intended
affect, snapping Cat from her trance. She stood. With a lingering look at the
stranger, she took off through the woods.

The man’s eyelids shuttered down, and
Camilla knew he teetered between consciousness and unconsciousness. She knelt and
resumed where Cat had left off.

Blood immediately began to seep through
the white shawl. Frantically, Camilla yanked tighter, eliciting a groan from
the patient.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“God bless ya, miss.” His eyes rolled
back in his head and consciousness lost the battle.

By the time Cat appeared with blankets,
Camilla had bound the wound. Cat looked it over and patted Camilla’s shoulder.
“You did a good job. More than likely saved his life. Your Ma would be proud of
you. Here, take some snow and wash your hands.”

Camilla looked down at the blood on her
hands and burst into tears.

1948

A surge of pride shot through Andy. For
the past week and a half, he’d come to know the young Miss Penbrook only
through Madeline Penbrook’s disappointment and Cat’s animosity. He felt a bit
more sympathetic toward the old lady now that he saw she wasn’t completely
useless, selfish, and downright mean. Perhaps there was something of interest
in her early years after all. The fact that she’d saved a black man’s life
increased his opinion of her tremendously. Well, he supposed she did have other
redeeming qualities. Perhaps the rest of her life had softened her. After all,
when he was a boy she had welcomed him into her
home,
given him cookies without fussing at him over spilled crumbs and had taught him
to love literature. The memories weren’t crisp they way his older years in
Chicago were, but he did remember. And he wasn’t afraid of her.

He set the diary aside and carefully sat
up, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. Other than bruises and a few
painful spots in his ribs, he was feeling almost well. No one needed to read to
him anymore. At first, he was relieved by that fact. But after three days of
seeing Lottie or Ella only when they brought his food trays, he had to admit,
he missed the long hours of company with various members of the family. Even
ten-year-old Titus had been allowed to take a turn reading, though the others
were too young to read parts of the disturbing history in such detail.

The delicious aromas wafting through the
floor vents tempted his stomach and caused his mouth to water. He stood,
snatched a white shirt from the chair next to his bed, and made himself
presentable enough to join the family for supper. It was a bit early, but he
relished the thought of joining Lottie for a chat while she finished up dinner
preparations.

Her smile brightened the day as he
stepped into the kitchen. “Andy! What a nice surprise. I was just about to fix
your tray.”

“I thought I might join your family
tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind? We’d be thrilled.”

Andy found himself the center of
attention once the meal began. How was he feeling? Did his eye feel as bad as
it looked? Bet he wouldn’t smart-mouth
ol
’ Rafe again
any time soon.

The last comment, spoken by Titus,
received a stern rebuke from Buck. “What do you know about Rafe Cooper?”

Titus shrugged. “I hear stuff.”

“Well, don’t you go believing everything
you hear.” Lottie sent Andy a silent look of apology.

He smiled. He’d lived in a private world
for so long, the thought of having anyone care about his life felt like being
on foreign soil.

“Any word from Miss Penbrook this week?”
Lottie asked.

Andy shook his head. “I suppose I should
telephone Penbrook House and make sure they haven’t forgotten about me.”

“My aunt Delta ain’t forgot,” Buck said.
“She asked about you yesterday during service.”

He was glad to hear it. If he’d known
Delta would be at church, he might have gone himself just for the chance to
speak with her. “Did she say if I should come back to the house?”

Buck speared a slice of ham from the
platter in the middle of the table. “Nope. Just asked how you was gettin’ along
after Rafe’s
beatin
’.”

“Does the whole town know about that?”

“This end does.” Buck shook his head. “It
takes a lot to rile
ol
’ Rafe. You must have really
lit into Ruthie for him to tear up your face like that.”

“It was the booze talking.”

“The devil’s drink.” Miss Lottie scowled.
“Maybe you’ll think twice before you give in to that temptation again.” She
gave him a pointed look. “Or any others for that matter.”

Silence thickened the air as the
children, obviously recognizing their mother’s stern tone, waited to see if
Andy would respond. He glanced around from one wide-eyed brown face to the
next. Finally, he gave a broad wink that encompassed all six children.

“Miss Lottie, you make me want to be a
better man. I will certainly think twice before succumbing to any devilish
wiles from now on.”

Buck snickered. Lottie raised her eyebrow
and shoveled a spoonful of brown
beans into
little Lester’s baby mouth. “Good. Children, stop gawking and eat your supper
before it gets cold.”

Andy’s heart lifted. A week ago, he might
have suggested she mind her own business. But he was growing fond of Lottie,
Buck, and their large, rowdy, fun-loving family. Even Ella’s playful seduction
had become part of his everyday life, though he didn’t take it seriously
anymore. Not too seriously, anyway.

Lexie’s face came to mind less and less,
and when it did, anger always followed, so he tried to push her memory away. If
she hadn’t already given in to Robert, he imagined it wouldn’t be long. Robert
wasn’t the sort of man to wait forever. Neither was he the sort to give up
easily. He’d be laying it on thick. Flowers, compliments, love letters. It
wouldn’t take much for Lexie to be seduced.

Andy shifted uncomfortably at the
thought. Was he ready to give up the only woman he’d ever loved? Was he willing
to toss her to another man? If Lexie surrendered to Robert, it would be Andy’s
fault. Only he could stop it from happening.

Chicago

“A boy delivered these.” Lexie’s mother
slung a bouquet of daisies on the table as though it were a sack of baking
flour. “When’s that fool man gonna get it through his head that you is a
married woman?”

“I don’t know, Mama.” Lexie tried not to
show her excitement as she nonchalantly slid her hand to the attached card.

Meet
me at Sheila’s. 9 pm.
Don’t
stand me up, girl.