Souls Aflame (34 page)

The sheriff raised his eyebrows. “What in hell you talkin’ about? You’re the one who come to my office and told me where I could find him!”

“This is quite true; however, I have an alternate plan for his disposal, and I think you will agree with me that it will satisfy everyone. Take Myles to the Confederate Army and turn him in for what he is—a man who was disloyal to his countrymen and went north and joined the enemy. He is, in fact, an enemy of our great Confederacy, and deserves to be treated as such. He will be sent, no doubt, to Richmond, Virginia, and placed in Libby Prison.”

Someone snickered, “Hell, from what I hear about the Black Hole, he’d thank you for hangin’ him instead of sendin’ him there.”

“Well…” the sheriff pulled thoughtfully at his chin, “…I don’t know. I should take him in, but like you say, he’d be punished, and he’d be out of the way. There’s prisoner swaps goin’ on, I hear, but the North wouldn’t have him if he’s a deserter. They’d rather swap for a decent soldier who got caught fighting for their side, rather than the likes of this traitor. And Libby Prison is a fate worse’n death for some, I’m told.”

Virgil smiled. “I’m glad you are an intelligent man. You are wise to keep up good relations with Rose Hill.”

The sheriff snapped his fingers and two men stepped forward. “Take the prisoner to the Rebs and turn him over.”

“No!” Julie clutched Myles more tightly as the men approached. “No, you won’t take him. I won’t let you—”

Sobbing and shrieking, she was pulled from him and thrust into Virgil’s arms. He jerked her roughly toward the house. “Shut up, you little spitfire,” he hissed in her ear. “Shut up, I say, or I’ll make you suffer the agonies of the damned.”

She continued to fight him, and he threw her to the ground in disgust and whipped around to call out to the sheriff and his men, “Wait up there. I’ve changed my mind. I think we’ll just let you take him on into town and let the mob have him.”

Julie crawled over to clutch Virgil’s leg. “You can’t…” she pleaded desperately. “Oh, Virgil, don’t, please—they’ll kill him…”

“Are you going to get up and go to that house and not give me any more trouble?” He leaned over, his breath hot and ragged on her tear-streaked face. “I can have him killed with the snap of a finger, you bitch. You’re going to learn, one way or the other, that I am your master, and you will bend to my will forever!

“Well? What’s it going to be?” He kicked at her, sending her sprawling, face down, in the dirt. “Hurry up. The men want to leave.”

She reached out, her fingers clawing at the red clay, squeezing and mashing it. How she wished it were Virgil’s soul, and she was tearing it from his evil body. To return with him meant submitting to him endlessly. Death would be sweeter. But at least she could try to escape later. For now, there was nothing to be done but save Myles’s life at any cost.

“All right,” she said finally, with cold resignation. Slowly she stood, lifting her chin in defiance as she faced the man she had come to hate with every drop of blood that flowed in her veins. “All right, Virgil. Tell them to take him to the prison in Richmond, and I will go with you and do as you wish.”

“Good!” He grinned, his face grotesquely yellow in the glow of the lanterns behind them. He turned and gave his orders, then grasped her about her waist and led her toward the house. He squeezed her breasts painfully, but she did not cry out.

Damn him,
she thought, gritting her teeth,
damn him to hell. He can kill me, but I’ll never cry out to him again.

When they were out of sight of the others, he bent and ran his hands up under her dress, probing between her thighs with his grubby fingers. She stood rigid, like the marble statues in the foyer of Rose Hill.

“Ah, I’ll make you grovel and groan and beg for it,” he said hotly, and she could feel him trembling with eagerness. “As soon as we get inside, we’ll go to my room, and I’ll take you in a new way I’ve thought of. Oh, it might hurt you a bit, but you’ll like it. I know you will…”

They continued walking. When they reached the slaves’ quarters, Julie could see the dim glow of candles from within the shacks. “Sara…” she said in a dull voice. “What did you do with her? And Lionel?”

“Don’t worry. They’re all right. When they realized they had been discovered, they were only too glad to get out of there. I sent Lionel to his cabin and told Sara to get to the house when she saw you leave, to stay with your mother.” He made a clucking sound of disapproval. “What would people think? Leaving her alone when she’s dying?”

“That’s all you care about—what other people think. As long as they don’t find out the truth about what a devil you are, you’ll stoop to any depths to get what you want.”

“Exactly,” he laughed. “And you, my love, are going to discover just how cruel I can really be. When I’m through with you this night, you will creep to your bed and rue the day you ever dared to cross me. And I suggest you give very serious thought to the proposal of marriage I’ve made to you, because I’ve no intention of seeing you leave here. If you try, I’ll use my influence to have your brother killed.”

They reached the porch, and just then the wide doors were flung open. From within, the glowing lights illuminated Sara’s large frame. She stood there, chest heaving and eyes wide, holding the doors open with arms outstretched above her head.

“What is wrong with you, Sara?” Virgil snapped. “Get back inside and calm yourself down, or I’ll punish you severely for taking part in this little escapade tonight…”

Sara was gasping for breath, her eyes brimming with tears as she met Julie’s questioning gaze. “She’s gone. Your mama is gone—” she cried.

Julie did not weep. Lifting her head high, she moved forward as Sara stepped back to let her enter. With quick, sure steps, she hurried to the curving stairs. Behind her, Virgil was snapping at Sara to stop her sniveling and make the necessary funeral preparations.

Julie reached the second level and continued straight to her mother’s room. The door was partially open, and she gave it a quick shove, then stepped inside.

Her mother lay there looking just as peaceful as when Julie had left her earlier, except that her eyes were open, staring blankly upward. There was a great roaring in Julie’s ears as she went to the bedside and stared down, her heart heavy. She should close the eyes. But how? She had to do something about those staring yet unseeing eyes. Shuddering, she reached out with trembling fingers to draw the covers up and over her mother’s face.

Still she did not cry. Tears were for sorrow, and how could she be sorry that her mother would not suffer at the hands of Virgil Oates? The lifeless body beneath the covers was far better off than she.

For her misery had hardly begun.

Chapter Sixteen

Sara knew what to do to ready Julie’s mother for burial. First she summoned Lionel to find the washing board, a piece of wood shaped like a table top, on which the body would be prepared for burial. “The board will be wherever the last death was,” Sara told Lionel, for it was community property, used by a family as it was needed, then put away to await the next death.

“That’d be the Peele family, over by the swamp. Mistah Durwood, he passed on a few weeks ago. Ain’t heard of nobody dyin’ since.”

“Well, go along and get it,” Sara said wearily. “Knowin’ your mother, she wouldn’t like to be washed on a board what ever’body else gets washed on, but they ain’t time to make another. I reckon she should’a thought o’ that ’fore it was too late.”

From the kitchen doorway, Julie spoke. “You are right, Sara. Mother would not want to be washed and dressed on a board used by just anyone. She was very prim about such things, you know.”

Sara looked at the girl with the gray-shadowed eyes whose stringy hair hung wildly about her gaunt face. “Miz Julie, it don’t matter, chile,” she said compassionately, her heart going out to the girl. The good Lord was really heaping burdens on Julie’s shoulders, and Sara wondered just how much more her mistress could carry. “You go lie down and get some sleep. Lionel’s gonna stop by the church and ring the bell to let folks know. He done rung it out back. Ever’body’ll start comin’ at daylight. You gonna have to speak to ’em. I’ll take care of yo’ mama and have her all ready by the time they starts gettin’ here. And I’ll get some bakin’ done. I can manage. You run along now.”

“No!” Julie said sharply, straightening. “I will help dress my mother, Sara.” She looked at Lionel and snapped, “Go to the barn, or wherever you can find a door, and rip it down and set it up in my mother’s room. She’ll be prepared there.”

Lionel looked at Sara, who nodded, conveying the message with her eyes that there was no point in arguing with the girl once her mind was made up.

“You heat some water, and I will go up and find something suitable to dress her in. We’ll need help, of course. Get some of the women in to start on the baking. I want more than pies and cakes. I want hens dressed and roasted. I want a hog slaughtered and cooked over the pit. Lionel will ride into Savannah and get the finest coffin available from Mr. William Culpepper, the undertaker.”

Sara sighed, her heart going out to the tiny young woman who was making such an effort to be strong. “Miz Julie, you sure you want all these fixins? I mean, the way things are with Mistah Virgil and all…and Mastah Myles bein’ captured…wouldn’t it be best to just get it all over with as quick as we can?”

Julie slammed both palms on the kitchen table, her face reddening as she cried, “My mother made Rose Hill into the most prosperous plantation in all of Savannah, Sara. Before the damned war came to eat away at her success, she was a proud, refined woman. And that is the kind of funeral she will have, with all the respect given to her that she deserves.”

“Yes’m. Whatever you say. I’ll just bet if we’d ’a gotten away last night, Mistah Virgil, he’d of just dumped her in a hole in the ground without a word said over her by no man of God, even. Maybe it was meant to happen this way, so she’d get a decent buryin’, but it sho is sad about Mastah Myles, and you havin’ to stay here—”

“Oh, I’m not staying here,” Julie looked at her incredulously, “and neither are you and Lionel. We will bury my mother tomorrow, after proper respects have been shown to her by the people of Savannah, and then we are leaving. Lionel will again load a wagon and hide it deeper in the woods this time, and no one will stop us from leaving.”

Sara looked about fearfully, as though at any moment she expected to see Virgil appear from wherever he was eavesdropping.

“You needn’t look so scared, Sara. Virgil has gone to get the parson. He’s playing the role of the bereaved husband.

“But how you gonna leave, Miz Julie?” the old Negress said worriedly. “He ain’t gonna let you…”

Let me, indeed!
Julie fumed. Oh, she was sick of having other people and other influences dominate her life. She was going to plunge ahead and face whatever lay ahead. For the first time, she felt she knew the same emotion as Derek when he took that step from the plank into the shark-infested waters. She was not as strong as he—few men could even hold claim to
that
—but she could make up for lack of size with her womanly attributes. And while she was not plunging into dangerous seas with her hands tied behind her back, many perils lay ahead. If she was cunning enough, she could handle them, just as she was almost confident now that Derek had survived.

A smile touched her lips. She
felt
it. There was a stirring deep within that told her somehow, by God, Derek Arnhardt lived! Would he help her? He
had
to!

Sara asked hesitantly, “Miz Julie, you all right? You looks funny to me…”

The smile spread into a wide grin. “Sara, I’m fine. You leave everything to me. Mother is dead now, and I don’t have to take Virgil’s abuse any longer. Perhaps I never should’ve, but at least Mother died in peace. She didn’t drop dead of shock at finding out her husband was raping her daughter. And now I don’t intend to remain in this house one night after she is in the ground. This,” she said tremulously, “I swear on my mother’s soul!”

“He ain’t gonna let you leave,” Sara exploded, fear etched on her face. “That’s one mean man, and he ain’t gonna let you go, I tells you. You see what he had done to Mastah Myles—had him sent off to that prison up in Virginny—”

“Follow my instructions, please, and don’t argue. We’ll bury Mother tomorrow afternoon. Tell Lionel to have the grave dug. I want her placed to the right of my father. That’s a sunny spot too…”

Julie shook her head. Exhaustion was creeping into every bone, every pore. “I’m going to find something to dress her in.”

“She’s got buryin’ clothes,” Sara said quickly. Julie turned to look at her, puzzled, and the older woman hurried to explain. “You been kept from some of the sad parts of life, chile, and you may not know it, but folks keeps buryin’ clothes put back—nice things they have made special to be buried in. I know where your mama’s are. I’ll fetch ’em after we get her washed.”

Julie hurried through the still house, noticing that someone had gone around and stopped all the clocks to mark the hour of her mother’s death. She frowned when she saw that the mirrors had been covered with sheets. This was a superstition she did not believe in: that the spirit of the departed still lurks about, and if it sees itself in a mirror, it will be hindered from going on to another life in the hereafter. Julie sighed. If others believed in such notions, and it made them feel better, so be it.