Promise Bridge (23 page)

“I’ll fetch the carriage directly, Miz ’Gusta,” Winston called over.

“Meet us down the street, Winston.” Aunt Augusta pointed. “We are going to see how the bridge is coming along.”

“Yas’sum,” Winston acknowledged with a tug of his felt hat as Elijah tagged along after him with two bundles of purchased goods from the mercantile.

The riverfront was a hub of activity. Two dozen slaves were at various locations in the water, on the bridge, and in rowboats tied to the bridge. Several recognizable overseers, including Twitch, stood on the riverbank. They barked orders and watched every move made by the men as they patched and replaced timber planks and posts damaged on the structure. With James’s expertise, it was a well-organized effort. A number of men worked from the other side of the river, but were not progressing as quickly as their counterparts. Fortunately, Twitch had been distracted by a group struggling to replace a submerged post. This gave Livie and James time to walk behind one of the supply wagons and embrace and talk. When James saw us approaching, he removed his hat and nodded gratefully.

“Afta’noon, Miz ’Gusta, Miz Hannah. Sure does a man good seein’ his wife and unborn chile fo’ a spell. Makes me work all the harder jes’ to get home.”

Livie looked renewed as well. “James says it should only be a few more days until the bridge is ready to hold a wagon and team again.”

“We been workin’ by lantern half the night so . . .” James hesitated, then frowned, slowly turning his ear north, straining to hear. The rumble was soft and distant at first, but rose in intensity as we all stared blankly at one another.

“What the hell?” bellowed Twitch, who had not moved from his spot at the top of the bank but was now ankle-deep in water.

“Pull us in, Massa!” a voice cried out from the river. The men who moments earlier had been waist-deep in the current were now flailing about in water up to their chins. “We is goin’ under, Massa! Pull us in!”

The booming roar grew louder and a lantern hanging from the carriage clattered and began swinging from side to side. Livie grabbed my arm, her face frozen in terror. I spun around and saw the trees beyond the river bend north of town snapping and dropping from sight as the ground shook beneath my feet.

One of the overseers anchoring the lifeline to his slaves threw the rope aside and ran past Twitch. “Run! The ice jam gave way!”

No sooner had the words cleared his lips when a wall of water and ice came thundering around the bend. The banks of the river could not hold its fury. The slaves who stood in the river shrieked for their lives as they were swept away by the crashing wave. Chunks of ice plowed through buildings along the waterfront. The whine of cracking wood and rushing water set off desperate screams from every direction. I clung to Livie as a chilling surge of water was forced up the road by the power of the unleashed ice jam and rose over our knees. James sloshed his way toward us, pushing aside buckets and splintered timber that bobbed across his path. Using his arms, he braced us against the current fighting to uproot us.

“I cannot move, James!” My wet dress hung heavy and sunken like an anchor. As quickly as I spoke the words, the water crest was at my waist. James’s strength was all that held Livie and me upright. He struggled like an overburdened pack mule, unsure of where to shift his weight. He lifted us, each under one arm, high enough to free our boots from the thick mud and guide us up the road where the water was not as deep. Those not swallowed by the current ran toward higher ground. Winston had brought the carriage down from the livery and was caught as water gushed over the bottom half of his wagon wheels. He wrestled the spooked horses by their bridles in an attempt to lead them to safety, but the horses reared up, causing the carriage to lurch to one side. Elijah was thrown from the driver’s bench headfirst into the murky flood. Winston released the horses and ran for Elijah. Once in deeper water, Winston’s movement slowed to a crawl as the current pulled Elijah farther away from him. With a loud groan, James pushed us in Elijah’s direction and plucked him by the shirt, seconds before he was swept downstream. Elijah secured himself to James’s back and the group of us trudged toward Winston.

Seeing his son was saved, Winston realized he was in the best position to help us, so he navigated his way back to the carriage. He grabbed a rope from under the driver’s seat and tied it to the back of the carriage, then tossed the other end in our direction. We hung on as the river tried to rip us from our vine. Winston moved quickly around the carriage, and with a commanding touch settled the horses. He led them up the road, keeping his eyes locked on us as he fished us out of the stream. Once in shallow water, we stumbled our way to the carriage.

Winston gathered Elijah in his arms and sobbed tears of relief. The joy was short-lived, though, because the water continued to seep its way up into town. James helped Livie and me into the carriage, then called to Winston, “We gots’ta get on higher ground.”

Winston lifted Elijah back up onto the bench. He looked around anxiously. “Where’s Miz ’Gusta?”

“Don’t know,” James shouted above the frantic chorus. In our struggle, we did not see what became of her. We scanned the chaos around us to no avail. James grabbed two sinking men, one white and one black, and tugged them into shallow water. “We gots’ta move de hosses and carriage befo’ it’s too late.”

“Miz ’Gusta!” Winston yelled as he climbed up and stood on the driver’s bench to get a better view. “Where you at, Miz ’Gusta?”

Livie went limp in my arms, exhausted. “I don’t want to lose my chile. Do you think my baby drown inside me with all this water?”

“No, Livie,” I said, scrambling to lift the top of the bench seat in the carriage. Aunt Augusta stored quilts inside the hollow seat to safeguard them from dust and rain on their way to market. I took one and wrapped it around Livie to warm her trembling body. “Your baby is safe inside you. We shall get you to dry land even if I have to carry you there myself.”

I looked for James. He had the banker’s wife around the waist and her three young children in tow. When he pulled them far enough to continue the escape on their own, he waded through the water rising halfway up his thigh. “We gots’ta move now, Winston!”

“Miz ’Gusta,” Winston called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I can’t see you. Is you out there?”

Tears filled his eyes as he held his hands to his head. “Lawd have mercy at the sight befo’ me.” His shoulders hunched with defeat as he stepped down to take the reins.

“Here,” a strained voice called out. “Winston, I am here by the toolshed.” Winston spun around and jumped into the water.

“Go back and ready the hosses, Winston,” James yelled as he pushed his way to where Aunt Augusta, drenched and unrecognizable, was clinging to the top of a doorframe. Her body stretched lengthwise across the surface of the water trying to snatch her downstream. Riding the current, James reached her quickly. “I got her, Winston,” James called. “I got her.”

Winston reached them and helped free Aunt Augusta’s hands, which clenched the frame so tightly it was as though survival instinct nailed them to the wood. Each with an arm around her, the determined men dragged Aunt Augusta from the deep water. The great and mighty Augusta Reynolds was a rag doll in their arms, but they handled her with protective gentleness until she got her feet under her as they reached waist-high water. By the time they lifted her into the carriage, all three were so physically drained, they could not speak.

“Get over here, boy,” a voice demanded from a whirl of splashing water behind us. “Come fetch me. My leg is tangled in some chicken wire.” Twitch’s nasty bite did not ease even as he thrashed desperately for his life. “I said, move your lazy haunches over here!”

Neither James nor Winston lifted a head in Twitch’s direction. James looked over at Winston, who stared back without a flinch in his expression. Heaving an anxious breath, Winston crawled to the open bench seat and rummaged for a quilt to wrap around Aunt Augusta. “I best move these horses befo’ we sink too deep in de mud.”

James struggled onto his knees, then rested his head against the small mound of Livie’s seeded belly. Livie rubbed his wet back and wept softly. After catching his breath, James pressed his hand to Livie’s cheek. “We gonna get you gals up on dry land now. Everybody hold tight, ’cuz the hosses is gonna have to fight dere way outta the muck. Might throw us around a bit.”

“James, you no-good—” Twitch cursed as he gulped and spat the floodwater pushing him into the splintered remains of a shed. “Untangle me now!”

James stood as though Twitch’s voice was unheard. He jumped down into the water where Winston had already started pulling the team, coaxing their entrenched hooves from the muddied road beneath the floodwaters. The cries of those around us were deafening as the watery assault continued. If we did not move immediately, we would be washed over by the currents still swirling and snatching victims into its grip. A terrified yelp rose from the water to our left.

“Sweet Jesus, have mercy on an ol’ woman,” Mabelle cried as she held to an apple barrel dragged off by the river. Her face, nearly submerged, was slapped over and over again with brown water. “Save me from de fist of hell and deliver me to de Promised Land!”

James ran toward her, but the deep water had become thick with silt, slowing his stride and broadening the distance between them. James dove beneath the surface. “James!” Livie screamed. There was no sight of him. We all stood and searched the water now peppered with corpses and remnants of an uprooted town. The degree of tragedy unfolded before us. Buildings, livestock, and people swept by. I held tightly to Livie’s hand as she screamed for James. Aunt Augusta came and steadied her from the other side. Livie buried her face into my shoulder. Like a rising turtle, James appeared from the dark water and grabbed Mabelle across her breast. He tugged hard and stroked with relentless determination. Mabelle choked and spit up water. The closer James moved her in our direction, the easier it got for her to lift her chin and breathe in the sweet air of salvation. Winston waded out and snatched them each by the collar. To my amazement, he summoned the strength to pull them toward us.

“Toss that worthless blind woman aside and help me!” Twitch screamed as he drifted farther downstream. “I command you to come for me now, or answer to the whip later.”

We focused our attention on Mabelle. James carried her in his arms and laid her into the carriage. She was weak and disoriented. Aunt Augusta threw a blanket over her. Livie reached for James, his hand bracing Mabelle’s shoulder with encouragement. James squeezed Livie’s hand as he shivered with exhaustion. “ ’Tain’t no time to spare,” he called to Winston. “Let’s move them hosses.”

Elijah scrambled up to the driver’s bench and lashed the reins as Winston centered himself between the noses of the two frightened horses, yanking their bridles until they kicked their legs free of muck. At first the carriage rocked unsuccessfully. Then James whacked them on their haunches with enough insistence to drive them in the right direction. They slopped their way through the mire, stumbling and rearing up. Like children watching a footrace, we yelled our encouragement.

“Go, girls!” I cried with the others. “Pull harder!”

I doubt the frightened horses could hear us above the commotion, but they lunged more fiercely, and with each step gained, the grip of the river loosened. The carriage nudged forward, then with one last powerful surge from the horses, we broke free of the water. Elijah continued to crack the reins as Winston and James stepped back to let the horses run. I never imagined a cloud of dust swirled from a dry road would make me sob with joy, but I was not alone in my tears. Elijah handled the frantic horses with calm expertise learned through years on his father’s knee. In spite of his small stature, he guided them to a halt at the livery. Winston and James caught up with us there and moved quickly to secure the horses to the hitching post. Cuts and bruises were had by all, but no serious injuries were apparent, with the exception of Mabelle, who swayed with grogginess brought on by a bulging knot in the center of her forehead. I was the first to speak.

“We must get all of you back to the safety of Hillcrest. Your wounds can be tended to there.” Mud smeared Livie from head to toe, but she appeared unharmed. I pressed my hand to her cheek. “Are you strong enough to make the trip?”

“ ’Tain’t the first time I tangled with the river, but I hope to high heaven it be the last,” Livie said with an anxious smirk. “Every time I think it’s gonna swallow me up, it spits me back out again. I is either the luckiest soul alive or the most cursed.”

James climbed into the carriage to put his arm around his shaken wife. “Livetta, you sure you is not hurt?”

“I am fine, thanks to you and Winston.” Livie shivered into the crook of James’ arm. “We may be a mite thick with mud and bruises, but you held our lives in your hands and never let go. You is a brave man . . .”

“James, you no-good buck!” Twitch sloshed from the water’s edge, snarling and limping like a beaten dog. “I am gonna whip the hide from your bones and feed it to the hogs!”

James climbed down to meet him face-to-face. “Marse, I was jes’ goin’ to look fo’ you.”

“Nonsense. You went for the ol’ woman instead of me,” he screamed, his eyes wild with fury. “You will pay with your life, as sure as I am standin’ here.”

“I didn’t see you, Marse,” James said, averting his eyes from Twitch. “There was so much screamin’ and cryin’ out, I couldn’t make out one voice from t’other.”

Twitch seized James by his torn shirt. “You lyin’ darky. You will sure enough hear my voice loud and clear when I howl at the sight of your dead body hangin’ from a tree.”

“That’s enough, Twitchell.” Aunt Augusta stood on feeble legs, but her jaw was firm with intent. “None of us saw you or heard your cries for help.”

“I tell you he saw me, Augusta, but he was more concerned about savin’ his own kind. He would watch me drown with a smile on his face, then reap the benefit of an easier life with me at the bottom of the river.”