All Things New (37 page)

“Because . . . because they want you and Mama to come. They said . . . they said they’ll let Jack and Roselle come home if you and Mama come and talk to them.”

“Oh, Lord!” Lizzie wept.

“Where are they, son? Did the men tell you where we should meet them?”

“Uh-huh . . . They said . . . where the slave camp was.”

“We have to go, Otis. Come on. They have Roselle and Jack!”

Otis set Rufus down again and pulled Lizzie near. “It’s a trap,” he whispered. “They’ll trap all of us.”

“Then we’ll get help. We’ll find Saul and Robert and Willy and the others and get them to come help us.”

“We don’t know where they are. Besides, we can’t put them in danger. If we come armed, the white men will say that we attacked them first. It’ll be just like before.”

“But . . . but what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, but let’s go on back to the kitchen and get the boy something to eat, get him calmed down. While you’re doing that, I’ll pray. Maybe the Lord will show us what to do. Maybe He’ll send someone to help us.”

Lizzie did what Otis said, even though her every instinct screamed at her to run into the woods and save her children, her babies. She fixed Rufus a slice of bread and butter and held him on her lap, stroking his face, his hair while he ate. Otis sank onto his knees beside them, then fell forward on his face, silently praying. It seemed to Lizzie that hours and hours passed while she waited, sick with grief and fear.

“Lizzie . . . Lizzie . . . Lizzie . . .” Someone was calling her name. The voice sounded very far away, but when she looked up, Missy Josephine was standing in the kitchen doorway. “Oh, Lizzie, what’s wrong!” she asked when she saw Lizzie’s face. Otis had looked up, too, his face wet with tears. He slowly rose to his feet. “What happened?” Missy Jo asked again.

Lizzie hadn’t meant to tell Missy Jo, but the words just came rushing out all at once. “They took my children! My babies! They have my Roselle and Jack in the woods, and they won’t let them go!”

“Who does, Lizzie?”

She knew the answer. Massa Daniel. It had to be. No one else hated them that much. But she was afraid to say it out loud.

“We don’t know who they are,” Otis said. “But they have our kids, and they sent Rufus back here to tell us to come get them. They say they only want to talk and then they’ll let them go, but—”

“Don’t go,” Missy Josephine said. “It’s a trap.”

“I know, I know . . . but we don’t know what else to do. I’ve been praying for an answer and—”

“And then I came,” Missy said. “Don’t you see? God answered your prayer. You need to stay here while I go get help.”

“But who, Missy Jo? Who’s gonna help you? Everybody in this town hates us Negroes.”

“I want my children back!” Lizzie said. “Please, Otis! Please don’t make me wait anymore. I need to go to them. Before the men hurt them.”

Missy Jo covered her mouth as if to hold back her own tears. She stared at Lizzie and Otis and Rufus for a long moment. “No, neither one of you can go. You have to trust me and stay right here. I’ll go into town and ask Dr. Hunter for help. He must know some other people who would be willing to help us.”

“How’re you getting to town?” Otis asked. “Massa Daniel took the horse to Richmond.”

“I’ll take the path through the woods again, like I did the last time. You can lead me to it, can’t you?”

“No, Missy Jo. No. That’s where them men are, back in those woods. They’ll hear us coming and neither one of us will ever get through.”

“I’ll take the road, then. It will take longer, but I’ll get help, Otis, I swear I will. Promise me that you and Lizzie will stay right here and wait until I get back. Don’t try to rescue Roselle and Jack yourself. Promise?”

Lizzie couldn’t speak.

At last, Otis nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I promise. It’ll be the hardest thing I ever done, but I’ll wait. And I’ll be praying for you.”

35

Josephine ran out the kitchen door and around the house to the long, gravel driveway. Her bulky skirt hampered her movements, and her legs felt like stones were tied to her ankles as she raced up the lane and out to the main road. She didn’t have time to think about the ever-darkening night or the dangers along the way as she sprinted toward Fairmont as fast as she could go. Josephine knew she should have told Mother or Mary where she was going, but she didn’t want to add any more strain to her mother’s heart. And she didn’t trust Mary to keep quiet.

The summer night was as hot as White Oak’s kitchen when the hearth was burning, and her garments quickly became drenched with sweat, plastering the fabric to her skin. If only she could run faster. If only she didn’t have to stop so often to catch her breath and ease the stitch in her side. This was taking much too long. It would be more than an hour at this rate before she reached Dr. Hunter’s house in town—and what if he wasn’t even there? Then what? She prayed—really, truly prayed—that Otis and Lizzie would have the patience to wait and that the men wouldn’t harm Jack and Roselle—and she kept on running.

Daniel was behind this kidnapping, Josephine knew it. If he could plot one murder, he was capable of this, too. Years of shooting
Yankees during the war had made him immune to killing. He would lure Lizzie and her family into the woods and make them disappear. Everyone would assume they had left White Oak on their own like all the other Negroes had. Otis had to die because he could testify to Daniel’s guilt. The children were bait in the trap. Jo shuddered, knowing he would kill them, too. Lizzie would die because she had dared to tell the truth about Samuel. Daniel would kill her to keep her from ever telling anyone else what Samuel and Harrison Blake had done.

Josephine halted. Harrison Blake! She was almost to the Blakes’ plantation. Maybe she could borrow their carriage to get to town. She didn’t think she had the strength to run all that way. Jo turned up the lane to Harrison’s house. Then she had another thought. What if she could convince Harrison to help her? He owed Lizzie an enormous debt for what he had done to her, so the least he could do was save her and her children. Daniel and the others would listen to Harrison, their former captain.

Josephine decided to go around to the rear door and get one of the servants to go inside and fetch him. She wouldn’t let Priscilla know she was there. But Harrison was sitting in his wheelchair on the front porch as Jo jogged up his driveway, and he saw her before she saw him.

“Who’s there?” he called out to her.

“It’s me, Josephine,” she panted. “I need your help.”

“Josephine . . . ?”

“Yes.” She halted, leaning against the hitching post to catch her breath. The front door was open and so were all the windows. She prayed he would come down to talk to her so that Priscilla wouldn’t overhear them. It seemed like an eternity before Harrison stood and reached for his crutches, then hobbled down the steps.

“What are you doing here? You look a mess.”

“I ran all the way here.”

“Ran . . . ? Why?”

“Because I need your help, Harrison. Please listen to me—I’ll do anything you want me to do in return, but please, please help me.”

“Slow down and catch your breath. I can’t understand you.”

“I’ll marry you, if that’s what you want, and I’ll be your loving wife. Anything, but I’m begging you to help me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My brother Daniel and his friends are planning to do something terrible to our Negroes. They took Otis and Lizzie’s children and—”

“Wait. If it’s a problem with your slaves, you need to know I’ll believe your brother’s word before I’ll ever believe a Negro’s. Settle it with him yourself.”

“No, listen to me, Harrison. It’s a trap. Daniel is setting a trap. He’s holding our servants’ children captive. He’s trying to lure Otis and Lizzie into the woods, and when he does, he’ll probably kill them.”

“I don’t believe it. Why would he kill them?”

“Otis was a witness the night two Negroes were killed in the woods. He knows that Daniel was there. And Otis knows it was Daniel who burned down the Freedmen’s Bureau. Lizzie knows the truth, too. Daniel is afraid that when the Yankees come back, Otis and Lizzie will testify to his guilt. He plans to kill them all! Please, Harrison. We have to save them.”

“Why involve me?”

“Because . . . because I know the truth about what you did fifteen years ago. You told me you were going to hell for your sins and . . . and I know what you meant. You and my brother raped one of our slaves. She was just a young girl, and the two of you seduced and raped her.”

Harrison teetered on his crutches and nearly lost his balance. Jo grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. The look on his face was one of shame and horror.

“I paid for that crime a thousand times over,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion. “I’ve been to hell . . . and I’m still in hell for that crime. I’ll have to live this way for the rest of my life. How is helping you supposed to atone for my past?”

“Because the slave you raped got pregnant. She had a daughter.
That’s the girl who Daniel kidnapped tonight—your daughter. He’s going to kill her.”

“My daugh . . . ? Are you making this up?”

“No, I’m not. It’s the truth, I swear it. Please, Harrison. Daniel will listen to you. He and the other men respect you. This is your chance to make up for what you did to Lizzie. You can save her and her family.”

“Harrison?” Priscilla had come out onto the porch. “Who are you talking to? Who’s here?”

“It’s nothing, Mother. Go back inside.” He and Josephine waited, neither one daring to speak. But Priscilla didn’t move from the porch. “She doesn’t know,” Harrison whispered. “She never found out about what Sam and I did. It would have killed her.”

“Then help me. Please,” Jo whispered back.

“Josephine? What are you doing here?” Priscilla had come down the stairs. She stood staring at her, and Jo knew she must look a wreck, her hair falling loose, her clothes plastered with sweat. “What in the world is going on? Is something wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blake. I promise to explain it to you later, but I need Harrison’s help, and we have to hurry.” She looked up at him, pleading silently. He hadn’t agreed to help her, and she held her breath, waiting. If he refused, she would ask to borrow his carriage and go find Dr. Hunter by herself. But she was running out of time.

“Is something wrong at White Oak?” Priscilla asked. “Is your family all right?”

“Yes, my family is fine . . .” Jo gripped Harrison’s wrist, the one he had slashed with his razor. “Please,” she whispered.

At last he spoke. “I’ll explain everything later, Mother. Jo needs help with one of her slaves.”

“But . . . but where are you going?”

“It’s nothing, Mother. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. Come on,” he said to Josephine. “We’ll need to take my horse.”

His progress was painfully slow as he limped all the way across the yard to the stables on his crutches. Jo didn’t know how he could
maneuver over the rough ground in the dark. He was panting and sweating with exertion before they were even halfway there, and Josephine saw the enormous effort it cost him to go such a distance. She opened the stable door for him and couldn’t see a thing inside. How would they ever find the horse, much less get it saddled?

“Henry!” Harrison called out. “Henry, are you in here?”

“Yes, sir,” a voice called back.

“I need you to saddle my horse for me.”

“Yes, sir. Just let me light this lantern first, sir.”

Josephine sagged against the doorpost with relief. Thank heaven the Blakes had Negro servants to help them. Thank heaven for Alexander and the Freedmen’s Bureau. A light flared a moment later, and she watched as the young Negro boy got Harrison’s horse ready for him to ride, exchanging the halter for a bridle, putting on the blanket, then the saddle, cinching it tightly, adjusting the stirrups. Jo wanted to plead with him to hurry, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

“Now help me up,” Harrison said at last. The boy took Harrison’s crutches, then held him upright as he leaned against the horse and pulled himself up into the saddle. Harrison was weary from their trek across the yard, and it took a great deal of effort for him to heave himself up. How humiliating it must be for him to need so much help. And Jo could tell by the grimace on Harrison’s face that the maneuver had been painful, as well. He was sweating and pale by the time he was finally astride.

“Help me up, too, please,” she told the servant.

“No, Josephine. You’re staying here. Tell me where I should go.”

“I want to come with you. I know how to ride. Tell him to help me up.”

The horse snorted and stamped in place, waiting. “You don’t trust me, do you?” Harrison said. “You don’t think I’ll really help your slaves.”

“Harrison, please. I don’t want to argue with you. I promised Lizzie and Otis that I would bring their children back. They will be terrified if I’m not there. I’m going with you.”

“Why must you always be so stubborn?”

“I promise I’ll never defy you again. I’ll do whatever you ask of me for the rest of our lives, but please, please let me come with you.”

He finally nodded to the servant, and the boy helped boost Josephine up to ride behind him. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him. Harrison flicked the reins, and the horse moved through the door and out into the night. “Where to?” he asked.

“They’re hiding back in the woods between White Oak and town. Where the Negroes were camping out for a while. Do you know the place I mean?”

“I think so. If we go out to the main road, there’s a path that will take us back there.”

“Just hurry, Harrison. Please.”

They went down the drive and out to the main road at a trot, and she felt an enormous relief to be traveling so quickly at last. But then it seemed to take forever to find the path in the dark, and when they did the horse made slow progress through the dense brush. The moon and stars weren’t able to penetrate deep into the woods. It had become a night from hell with mosquitoes biting and insects buzzing in the steamy summer heat as Josephine raced against time, praying she wouldn’t arrive too late.

She had begun to think they were lost, but then the trees and brush thinned out and Josephine saw a clearing ahead. She heard a horse whinny and the low murmur of voices for just a moment before the woods went deathly still. Harrison halted. She heard the slide and click of rifles on the other side of the clearing. Why hadn’t she told Harrison to bring a gun?

“Can you slide down by yourself?” Harrison whispered.

“Yes . . . I think so.” He held the horse steady as she turned and lowered herself to the ground, her stomach pressed against the horse’s body. The ground was farther away than she had thought, her legs weak with fatigue, and she landed on the hard ground with a painful thud.

“Stay here.” Harrison rode forward into the clearing. Was she a fool to trust him? Jo began to pray, as hard as she had on the
night she’d saved Alexander, pleading and bargaining with God. It couldn’t be His will that innocent children died, could it?

“Hello!” he called. “It’s me, Harrison Blake.”

The silence lengthened. Jo held her breath, waiting. Then a masked figure stepped into the clearing. “Captain Blake? What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing . . . Is that you, Joseph? Who else is with you?”

“Just some . . . friends. It’s nothing you need to worry about, Captain.” Two more men emerged from the shadows, rifles in hand. Jo was certain the man on the left was her brother, but none of them removed their masks. Another dark figure remained half hidden near the edge of the clearing, and Jo saw two small forms huddled on the ground at his feet. Roselle and Jack. She could hear them whimpering.

“Is that you, Daniel?” Harrison asked. “I understand you’re having a problem with your slaves.”

“Isn’t everyone these days?” His voice was muffled, but Jo recognized it. “They’re getting out of hand, Captain. Trying to take over and endangering our women. They have to be stopped.”

“You mean the children you took? How are they a danger to you?”

There was a long pause before Daniel said, “With all due respect, Captain Blake, there’s no need for you to get involved in this.”

“Maybe not, but your sister asked me to.”

“Josephine? I might have known. Don’t believe a word she says, Captain. She’s a traitor. She’s been collaborating with that Yankee and—”

“Enough!” Harrison shouted. “Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed? We lost the war! If you continue to fight, you’ll lose all over again!”

“My slaves are going to betray us to the Yankees. They have to be silenced.”

“There would be nothing for them to tell if you hadn’t burned down the Freedmen’s Bureau in the first place. Everyone knows it was you.”

“We wanted that Yankee out of town, but he wouldn’t take a hint so—”

“Stop it! Stop wasting your time with more hatred and killing and revenge. It’ll never end. It’s time to start all over again and rebuild our homes and our lives. Can’t you see that? I didn’t understand it either until Josephine made me see the truth. But she’s right. We have to stop hating and start living.”