Wilde, Jennifer (29 page)

"Don't
know what came over me," he replied. He frowned, shaking his head. "I
just seemed to pass out last night."

"You
were very tired," I said quietly. "I—I came to your room before I
went to bed. You were all sprawled out. I straightened you up and put a quilt
over you."

"I
figured you must have."

I
took a pot holder and opened the oven door, removing the biscuits. Derek stood
watching me, still a bit groggy, his hair spilling untidily over his brow.
There was a tiny nick on his jaw where he had cut himself shaving, and he still
wore the breeches he had slept in, his white shirt tucked loosely into the
waistband.

"Are
you feeling all right?" I asked.

"Feel
fine—just a bit dazed. Haven't slept that long in months. I suppose I needed
it."

"You've
been under a great deal of stress."

"Guess
that's it," he agreed. "I'm ravenously hungry."

"Breakfast
is ready. I'll just set a place in the dining room—"

Derek
sat down at the battered old wooden table. "I might as well eat in here.
Where's Cassie?"

"I—she
didn't come in this morning, and—well, I didn't go get her. She was naturally
upset. I thought I'd just let her stay in her cabin for a while until—until
it's all over."

"I
don't imagine she'd be much help to you this morning, anyway," he replied,
leaning back in his chair as I placed the plate of food in front of him.
"I'm sorry about all this, Marietta. I know how you feel."

"It's—I
suppose it's something that can't be helped."

"If
there were any other way—"

"I
know, Derek." I set butter and strawberry jam on the table. "You
don't have to justify yourself."

"Indeed
I don't," he retorted, frowning again.

I
poured coffee for him and began to clear things up as he ate. When everything
was put away and the dirty dishes were stacked on the drainboard, I poured
coffee for myself and leaned against the drainboard, sipping it. He ate slowly,
savoring the food, eating three biscuits with jam after he had finished the
eggs and bacon. I refilled his coffee cup, hoping to keep him away from the
shed as long as possible. Poor Caleb still hadn't been discovered, was still
bound and gagged and no doubt terrified.

Derek
finished his last biscuit, took up his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair,
looking much better than he had earlier. The grogginess was gone, the shadows
under his eyes less pronounced. He sipped his coffee slowly, gazing at me all
the while. That didn't help my state of mind one bit. I was totally wretched,
consumed with guilt when I thought of what I had done to him. I knew he would
never forgive me if he discovered the part I had played in Adam and Cassie's
escape. Derek set down his empty cup and yawned, stretching his arms out.

"Feel
better?" I asked.

He
nodded, climbing to his feet. "Delicious breakfast, Marietta. I enjoyed
it. I think I'll go on into the study and do some figuring until Randolph gets
here. He should be arriving soon now."

He
strolled out of the room, and my heart sank. What if he discovered the missing
money? What if he checked to see how much he had left and discovered several
bills had been taken? It was an unreasonable fear, I knew, for there was no
reason why he should open the cigar box this morning, yet I couldn't shake my
apprehension. I cleared the table and washed all the dishes, and then I swept
the floor and began to polish the silverware, determined to keep busy, knowing
that was the only way I could endure the suspense.

I
heard the wagon pulling around the side of the house sometime later. Derek left
the study, went out the front door, and circled around the verandah to greet
Randolph as he alighted from the wagon. I heard them talking and, stepping to
the window, saw them standing together in the back yard. Randolph was a large
man, powerfully built, looking like a rugged middle-aged pugilist incongruously
dressed in glossy black knee boots and an elegantly cut maroon suit. His face
was battered and worn, the large mouth set in a sullen curl, the eyes dark and
cold. Although rich and abundant, his hair was the color of old pewter, a tarnished
silver-gray. Even from this distance I could sense his innate brutality.

My
pulses leaped as they started toward the shed. It was only a matter of minutes
now. They moved behind the oak trees and out of sight, and I waited, so weak I
could hardly stand. He would discover the broken hasp. He would find Caleb
trussed up on the floor of the shed. He would be unable to believe his own eyes
at first, and then filled with an all-consuming rage. The yard was silent,
everything hushed and still. Then I heard him yell. He let out a curse that
carried all the way to the kitchen. Unable to contain myself, I dashed out the
back door and hurried toward the shed.

Derek
was still cursing as he dragged Caleb out of the shed and began to untie him.
Randolph stood with his hands on his thighs, his legs spread wide, an ugly
expression on his face. Still gagged, Caleb squirmed excitedly as Derek tried
to undo the ropes.

"Be
still, boy!" he shouted.

"What—what's
happened?" I cried.

"He's
gone. Adam's gone. Someone broke into the shed."

"Cassie—"
I whispered hoarsely. "She didn't come in this—"

"I
found a hammer and a chisel in the shed. She must have used that to tear the
hasp loose. Goddammit, Caleb, I said be
still!"

"Looks
like we're gonna have us a nigger hunt," Randolph remarked.

Derek
tossed the ropes aside and untied the gag. Caleb spat out the rag Adam had
stuffed into his mouth. Derek's eyes were flashing with anger, his cheeks
flushed. Caleb was so frightened he couldn't stand still. Derek seized his
arms, gripping them savagely.

"What
happened?"

"I—I
doan rightly know. I wuz on my way back from takin' a leak an' I heard dis
owl—" Caleb hesitated, gulping, trying to control his fear.

"Go
on!"

"You's
hurtin' me," Caleb whined. "You's hurtin' my arms—"

"I'll
do more than that! Who tied you up? Who put you in the shed?"

Caleb
shook his head. "I—I doan know. It wuz a spook—"

Derek
released one of his arms and slapped the boy across the face with such force
that Caleb's head snapped back. He wailed loudly, and Derek slapped him again.

"Stop
it!" I cried. "Can't you see he's—"

"You
stay out of this!" Derek warned.

"You're
too upset to do any good, Hawke," Randolph said calmly. "Let me
question the boy. I'll get the information out of him."

Derek
thrust the boy toward him. Randolph smiled and, seizing Caleb's left wrist,
jerked it straight out, gave it a brutal twist and shoved it up between the
boy's shoulder blades, grabbing hold of his hair with his free hand. Caleb let
out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Derek!
You must stop—"

"Shut
up!" he ordered. "Go tell Mattie I want all the slaves in their
cabins in fifteen minutes."

Caleb
screamed again as Randolph wrenched his arm up even higher.

"You're
gonna talk, boy," Randolph crooned, almost as though he were speaking to a
lover. "You helped him get away, didn't you? You helped him get loose,
then had him tie you up so no one would think you were involved."

"No!"
Caleb shrieked. "Massah, massah, make him let go! He's breakin' my
arm!"

"I'm
gonna break your neck next, boy," Randolph promised, jerking Caleb's head
back.

"Derek!"
I cried. "You can't let this—"

"Get
out of here!" Derek thundered. "Do what I told you!"

Caleb's
screams filled the air as I rushed away, unable to bear it, unable to watch,
knowing I was responsible. The boy continued to scream, and then he sobbed and
gasped and made spluttering noises. Mattie was on her front porch. She took one
look at my face and hurried down the steps to fold me in her arms, holding me
firmly against her great bulk, rocking me as though I were a little child.
Caleb was silent now. I wondered if he had passed out.

"It's
my fault," I whispered, my voice hoarse, barely audible. "It's all my
fault. That terrible man—"

"Hush,
chile," Mattie said. "They ain't gonna kill him. Reckon he'll jus'
get a good shakin' up."

"He—doesn't
know anything. He was coming back from the outhouse last night and heard us.
Adam distracted him and grabbed him from behind, and Caleb never knew—"

"It's
all right," Mattie crooned. "He's done stopped hollerin'. You have to
pull yourself together now, chile. You gotta be strong now. Now's th' time you
gotta be strongest."

I
nodded and brushed the tears from my eyes. When I gave Mattie Derek's message,
she released me and called one of the women from the smokehouse and told her to
summon all the men from the fields. A few minutes later Caleb came stumbling
toward the cabin, his right arm held painfully at his side, his eyes rimmed
with pink and awash with tears. Mattie put her arms around him and shushed him
when he started whimpering.

"I
didn't do nuthin'," he whined. "Dat man wuz gonna kill me. He's a
devil. He done broke my arm an' yanked my hair somethin' awful. I'se
hungry,
Mattie. I ain't had nuthin' to eat an' I'm 'bout to die!"

Mattie
gave a disgusted sigh and lifted her eyes heavenwards. I was relieved to see
that the boy was more frightened than anything else. Mattie led him into her
cabin, and I walked slowly back to the shed. Both men ignored me. Derek had
control of his anger now. Although I could tell that it still seethed inside,
he maintained an icy composure that was far more frightening than his violent
outburst had been.

"There's
nothing I like better'n a good nigger hunt," Randolph was saying.
"It's something I feel right strongly about. Guess you heard two of my niggers
ran off a while back. We never
did
catch up with those two, but one of
McKay's bucks ran away no more'n a month ago. Now
that
was a hunt! Took
us two full days."

"You
caught him?"

"Finally
found him hiding in some woods damn near thirty miles from home. You shoulda
seen that boy crawling around on all fours, trying to hide in some bushes. We
turned the dogs loose on him. You never
seen
such excitement!"

Randolph
shook his head, smiling at the memory. "You're gonna need some help,
Hawke," he continued. "While you question the rest of your niggers,
I'll go round up some of the men. They'll be glad to help, love a good hunt as
much as I do. We'll all ride after your two. With any luck we'll catch 'em
before sundown."

"How
long will it take you to get back here?"

"No
more'n an hour or so. I'll stop by McKay's place, have him send for Johnson and
Arnold. Barnett'll come, too, and Roberts. You be saddled up and ready to go in
an hour, and we'll start after them coons."

Derek
nodded curtly. Randolph beamed, greatly anticipating the sport in store.

"Reckon
the first place we're gonna look is Elijah Jones's place. I still figure he had
something to do with my niggers gettin' away like they did. We're gonna search that
place uv his top to bottom, and if I even so much as
smell
a nigger I'll
personally set a torch to it!"

Randolph
hurried back to his wagon and drove away. Derek watched until he was gone, and
then he turned to me, his eyes hard and determined.

"You
gave Mattie my message?" His voice was like steel.

"They—they'll
all be in their cabins waiting for you in just a few minutes. What did Caleb
say?"

"He
didn't know anything. Adam jumped him from behind. He never even knew what
happened."

"Derek—"
I hesitated, summoning strength.

"What
is it?"

"Do
you have to go after them?"

"I
have to," he said tersely.

He
learned nothing from the slaves. None of them had seen or heard anything. He
ordered them back to work, told one of the men to saddle the chestnut stallion,
and went inside to change. I waited for him outside, standing under one of the
oaks, watching patterns of sunshine and shadow flickering over the ground and
feeling absolutely miserable. Derek came back out a few minutes later. He was
wearing his black boots and heavy blue cord breeches and jacket, the material
worn with age. His face was a granite mask as he strode briskly across the yard
toward me.

"I'm
leaving you in charge while I'm gone," he said. The words were crisp.
"I don't know how long it'll take, perhaps a day, perhaps even two or
three. I assume you can manage."

I
nodded, and he moved on toward the stables without another word. I could hear
horse hooves pounding on the road in front of the house. Derek mounted the
chestnut and galloped away to join the planters. I heard boisterous laughter and
hearty male voices, and then they all rode away. Mattie moved ponderously
across the yard to join me, each step requiring an effort because of her great
girth. Her black skin glistened with moisture, and her faded old blue calico
dress was damp. As she joined me under the tree, I saw the concern in her
velvety brown eyes.