Father Gabe looked up, as did Moses, Ailee, and Bettina.
Wordlessly, Catherine put down the food, as John did the coat.
John asked Moses, “Do you feel well enough to travel?”
“I won’t leave Ailee,” he stubbornly said.
John’s deep voice reverberated against the cave walls. “Then you sentence yourself to death, and perhaps Ailee, too.”
“I won’t leave her.”
Ailee looked at him with her good eye, but did not speak.
“Moses.” Catherine’s voice was soothing. “If captured, Ailee will be returned to Mrs. Selisse. She and Sheba will torture her. Ailee’s life will be hell on earth.”
Ailee took Moses’s hand, kissing it.
Bettina affirmed this. “It’s true, Moses.”
Catherine sat on an upturned basket that Bettina had used to carry food. “You asked me to help you. Things happened so fast. I couldn’t keep Francisco away from Ailee, but I can help you now.” She paused. “The truth. Who killed Francisco?”
He took a ragged breath. “The Missus.”
Bettina moved beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “How?”
Still weak, Moses’s voice was low. “He trapped her in the summer kitchen. He held her throat, he lifted her skirt, but this time she screamed.”
Ailee began to cry. Father Gabe petted her head, a soothing touch, as one would comfort an animal.
Moses continued. “The Missus ran out of the house. Sheba, too. I ran toward the summer kitchen behind them. The Missus, seeing what she did, picked up a big knife and stabbed him. Sheba grabbed a log from beside the fireplace and hit him over the head. Then she attacked Ailee. I pulled her off, grabbed her wrist so she’d drop the log. As I turned, the Missus slashed me with the knife. Sheba, she was crazy wild, and so was the Missus. Ailee’s face bled; I couldn’t even see her eye. So much blood.”
“What then?” Catherine asked.
“I don’t know. We ran. The Missus and Sheba stayed in the kitchen.”
John asked Father Gabe, “Is Moses strong enough to travel?”
“His wound is healing. He’ll regain his strength.”
“Do you think he can get his strength back soon?” Catherine asked. “Enough to work, perhaps indoor tasks? Or tending horses? He can’t be disguised as a traveler. He will have to work.”
Father Gabe thought, then opened Moses’s shirt. Healing from the inside out, the wound was still open. “I would have to bind it. He could tear it.”
Catherine felt a knot form in her stomach. “The blood will give him away.”
“I won’t leave Ailee.”
“Moses, you must,” Bettina simply, firmly said.
Ailee kissed his hand again, tears from her eyes falling on his hand. Seeing tears from her blind eye brought Catherine to tears.
John changed the subject. “Do you need anything?”
“Shoes, they need good shoes,” Father Gabe announced.
“We can get warm clothing. Shoes are hard.” Bettina affirmed Father Gabe’s request.
John studied Moses’s and Ailee’s feet. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Piglet growled. Father Gabe pinched the candle, cutting the light. All held their breath. Snuffling was heard outside, followed by the pungent odor of bear. Piglet growled louder, then shot out of the hidden cave. The bear ambled on, not terribly frightened of the dog. Puffed up, Piglet returned.
“Bettina, best to walk back with us, just in case the bear returns,” John sensibly suggested. “Father Gabe, what about you?”
“I’ll stay. I sleep here now, then go up at dawn. Some of the children come down.”
“Can you trust them?” John questioned. “Little ones talk.”
“Yes. Little they are, but they understand. They look at Moses’s wound, Ailee’s eye, they understand.”
With the corgi, the three threaded through the woods, occasionally stumbling, emerging onto the high meadow, the stars brilliant.
John softly said, “Even if people believed Moses innocent, he’ll still hang. Hiram and Dennis will see to that. Notches in their belts. They captured a dangerous runaway.”
Bettina murmured, “God will show us the way.”
“Bettina,” Catherine asked once they could speak, “what does a cross scratched on a tomb mean?”
Eyes widening, Bettina inquired, “Whose tombstone?”
“My mother’s. There’s a cross scratched on the back.”
Walking, Bettina finally answered. “A square means asking for a curse. Those are put on the tombs of the evil dead. A cross on a tomb is a prayer, a request.”
“For?” Catherine pressed.
“Health. Success in love.”
“So it’s not a curse?” Catherine was nothing if not shrewd.
“Not on your mother’s tomb. A curse is marked by a square, like I said. Depends on whose spirit is being conjured.”
“Conjured?” John had never heard of such a thing.
“The old faiths, the faiths from Africa, they believe you can communicate with spirits.” Catherine tried to frame this as neutrally as possible because she didn’t want to insult Bettina.
“A doctor, a queen, they have great power,” Bettina enlightened him.
“Father Gabe can conjure,” Catherine mentioned, which made Bettina stare at her. “Bettina, I know he can. I keep my mouth shut, but I do not deny the spirits.”
On hearing this, Bettina relaxed. Most white folks mocked the old ways. “They are all around us.”
“May I ask why my mother? She was no conjurer.”
“Your mother was an angel. Your mother had power, yes, she did. She could see into the future. She knew when others would die or live. She knew when she was going to die. She was not afraid, but she didn’t want to leave you and Rachel. She made me promise to watch over you, to keep good spirits about you.”
Catherine did not doubt this. Her mother, always sensitive, would speak to people in their own language, their own ways, if she could.
John was mystified. “I mean no offense, but why would someone put a cross on Isabelle Garth’s tomb?”
“To ask for her protection,” Bettina half whispered. “We need to protect Moses and Ailee, and the baby when it comes.”
Catherine put her hands together. “Oh, no. Ailee is with child?”
Bettina nodded. “We need kind spirits. We need the Old Missus. She would find a way.”
Friday, August 5, 2016
Piled against the inside wall of the equipment shed, the siding was held in place by vertical stakes so it wouldn’t slip. Although the boards and the metal sides weren’t heavy, they weren’t that light, either.
Harry and Fair painted the woodwork on the shed July 31 as planned. However, taking down the siding took longer. Working outside in summer tired Harry more quickly than working outside in the other seasons, although a deep snow could wear her out.
“We did a good job.” She admired it as she walked outside, followed by the barn swallows. “Hey, that’s too close.”
A female flew right to her face, then darted away. “Zap.”
Mrs. Murphy crouched down as the bird returned for another pass. The tiger cat launched herself straight up, hoping to catch the saucy bird between her paws. Thin air was her reward. She came down on all fours.
“Barn swallows aren’t worth it.” Pewter, as always, generously gave of her opinion.
Sitting on her haunches, licking her front paw as though this was of no concern, Mrs. Murphy responded, “Maybe not, but they taunt me.”
On cue, Luciano flew over Pewter and turned upside down like a jet plane, joyfully screaming, “Fatty.”
Huffed up, Pewter took a swat at the devilish bird.
Paying no attention to the catcalling, Harry trudged back to the house.