Liz Writes . . . inTexas

FREEDOM SEARCHERS

By Liz Hoyt Eberle

I ask you to please respect my rights and ownership; do not copy, edit, reproduce, nor use the writing in any form or medium without my express permission. You may reach me at eberle2@yahoo.com.

I'll be honored if you pass along the novel website address, http://www.lizhoyt-eberle-novel.yolasite.com (Liz's Front Porch Novel) to others who might want to journey along with my fictional people as they dream of living free.  

The characters and incidents are all products of my imagination; any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. References to historical events are used in a fictitious manner.

Chapter 1 – Baptizing Waters

Slave quarters, Emerson Plantation, southwest Virginia, late August, 1802

“I tole ya ta git in this house!” Mammy yelled at Molly. “These collard greens ain’t no good when they’s cold.”

“But, Mammy, I wanna go fishing wid Joe. I worked real hard today in the field and I don’t wanna take time to eat.”

“You chil’uns ain’t going down to that water again. I done tole ya that. Anyways, I needs help feeding these little ones and the baby. Now git in here.”

Mammy slammed the cabin door. Talk was done.

Molly sniffed hard. She didn’t want Joe to see her cry. He was probably nearly twelve but he didn’t treat her like a baby. They talked all the time while they worked. Joe was her best friend, but, he might not let her tag along if he thought she was a crybaby.

Joe came from behind the tree. “I heared, Molly. See you in the field tomorrow.” He waved and ran down the hill toward the creek.

“Bye, Joe.”

Molly hated collard greens but choking them down was better than going to bed hungry. She also hated that Mammy worked all day in the fields then had to get supper on the table and the little ones bedded down all by herself. Pappy didn’t get home much since he had been sent to work over at the Casey farm.

After Molly helped Mammy dish up supper, she held her breath and swallowed fast as she could forcing those slimy greens down her throat. While Mammy cleared the table, Molly put the baby in the basket then took Isaiah and Clara to the outhouse.

“Sister, I’s scarit. Don’t wan’a go out dere.”

“I’s gonna carry you, Clara and I be right in there wid you. Now, Isaiah! You hold onto my skirt so I knows where you is or I’ll tell Mammy. It’s too dark to do your business in the bushes.”

Molly didn’t let her sister and brother know she was scared of the dark sometimes, too, but the dim flicker from the one candle in their cabin kept her legs steady.

Back inside, chores done, and the little ones on the mat, Molly said, “I’s going to bed now, Mammy. I hopes you sleeps good.”

Mammy reached out, pulled Molly into her lap, and held her close. “Molly, you is such a good girl. And to be only seven years old. Don’t know what I’d ever do without you, chile.”

“Isaiah and Clara played good out in the field today. I watched real close while I worked the burn pile. Toting limbs is harder than pulling cotton, but I didn’t stop, Mammy! I’s a good worker.”

“You sho’nuff is. But, le’me tell you one thing, chile. You gotta quit playing around with that boy, Joe, so much. Old boss-man, Simon, may be black like us’uns, but his word is law and him’s real mean. I don’t want ya whipped, Molly.”

“But, Mammy, Joe’s my friend. He cut me a real pole from them cane bushes growing on the bank of the creek then showed me how to twist a wire to make a hook. Why, Mammy, I even put a grasshopper on it myself! Then we hid them poles real good. I’s careful, Mammy. Honest I is. ’Sides, all summer I pulled more cotton than Jake and Sue Jean put together! I did!”

Mammy smiled and her voice softened. “It jes ain’t right that a young’un cain’t have no fun.” Then, she cleared her throat, sat up straight, and frowned again. “Jes remember, Molly. You always, always do what you got to do. No matter what. You gotta remember that. All your days. Now gi’me a big hug and scoot off to bed.”

Molly climbed across Clara on the floor-mat and pushed Isaiah over a little. Most nights, she made up stories for Clara and Isaiah after she laid down with them. Stories kept their minds off the itchy straw on the hard dirt floor, and helped them forget the work that the next morning would bring. Molly could weave stories as long as it took for Clara and Isaiah to fall asleep, but tonight, she had something better than a tale that wasn’t really true.

 “Listen what happened today,” Molly whispered. “Preacher Willy said a prayer out in the cotton field and it jes made me feel so good. He say we can pray, too. Us, and Mammy, and Pappy. We kin jes talk to the Lord anytime, anywhere. Willy said, ‘Lord, thank ye fer loving us.’ Clara, I likes thinking the Lord hisself loves us. Now don’t you fergit that!”

Clara snuggled close to her big sister and Isaiah flopped over on his belly. Molly smiled and slipped into a sweet sleep.

Because it was late summer, Master Emerson had every able-bodied slave available working in the fields. Most all the cotton had been picked so the fields had to be cleaned up, raked into piles, and the brush readied for burning. Dead trees, limbs, and bushes from summer storms were added to burn piles. Workers got to the fields before sunup and labored until way after dark. Mules pulled huge logs over the cluttered field to smooth the ground for plowing. The fall hay crop had to be planted while the weather was hot so work never let up, even when thunderheads built up and lightening spiked from the heavens to the ground. Some days no breeze moved the air at all and steamy heat hung heavy on sweaty bodies struggling under a blazing sun. When the creek gurgled and whispered cool calls, even the hot, tired children did not stop work to heed its tempting invitation.

But, no amount of work kept Preacher Willy from spreading good news of God’s great love. With each thrust of his hoe, day in and day out, he sang out praises to God on high and declared salvation to the poor, the downtrodden, the slave.

Preacher Willy’s words followed Molly as she pulled weeds and chased after Isaiah, Clara, and other children on the loose. She invented games to keep the toddlers busy carrying bags of weeds from one row to another and quickly hushed them if they fussed or cried out. Long about mid-summer, boss-man Simon had figured out that if he made Molly put the little ones on quilts for naps in the hot afternoons, he got more work out of the mamas. Besides, he knew that every baby taking a nap would soon turn into another work hand.

So, on the hot afternoons, Molly told stories to keep the little ones quiet. As Joe dragged piles of brush from the rows to the burn pile, now and then they whispered to each other.

“Joe, you hear what Preacher Willy said this morning?”

“Sho’nuff. He say if’n you loves Jesus you needs to get pushed down in the water like Jesus did.”

“I been thinking, Joe. I knows Mammy loves me, but Willy say God loves me better’n Mammy does. I jes thinks that’s mighty big love, Joe.”

“Well, I ain’t got no learning Molly, and I ain’t got no Mammy so I guess I ain’t sure I knows what love means. My pappy, he whips me good when he come home from the Sattidy night meeting where he been drinking smelly stuff. Sho would like to feel safe and good like Preacher Willy says.”

“Joe, you thinks Preacher Willy speak da truth?”

“Well, Molly, I been listening hard to him. And when I sits at the creek fishin’, I thinks on what he says. I cain’t read like them white folks what goes to real church houses, but Preacher Willy says God done showed him the truth. I decided I does believe Jesus is real. It jes gotta be true, Molly! And I done decided! I’s gonna go git baptized tomorrow night. I is.”

Molly smiled and shoed flies off Isaiah. “Me, too, Joe. Something inside me jes says I needs God to love me. But, don’t you tell Mammy. She too scared of Boss-man, but I done figgered it all out. Tomorrow night, Mammy goes over to Casey’s farm to see Pappy, and I stays home to do my chores. She takes baby Mae, little Clara, and Isaiah wid her so I can git done real quick then I can sneak down to the creek. I’ll be home before she knows I was gone. Wanna meet up at the cypress tree and go to the creek wid Preacher Willy?”

Joe grinned. “Yeah, Molly. I sho’nuff does.” They gripped fingers. “It’s done.”

The next night, Molly stood on the bank of the creek with the small crowd that had gathered for the baptizing. Joe came up out of the water, grinning from ear to ear.

Preacher Willy said, “Praise the Lord God Almighty! Joe Brown done been borned again!”

Joe climbed up on the bank and Preacher Willy, waist deep in the creek, helped Molly into the water. Even after a hot summer day, the water coming from the falls was cold and Molly shivered.

“Molly Harris, do you declares that Jesus loves you?”

“Yes’suh, I sho do,” Molly said through chatter teeth.

“Do you believe that Jesus will wash away your sins?”

Molly said, “Yes’suh, I do believes!” She didn’t know what sins needed washed away except sneaking off from Mammy to be baptized but she was pretty sure Jesus could handle that sin just fine.

“Well, then, I baptizes you in da name of Jesus hisself.”

Molly came up out of the cold water, feeling warm and safe and happy for the first time in her whole life.

“Now, go tell everybody the Savior lives.”

Molly lifted her arms toward heaven and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus,” just as screams pierced the night air.

Preacher Willy scooped Molly onto the bank of the creek and yelled, “Run, chile, run.”

Dogs growled, horses pounded the ground, and moving torches lit the night. Molly slipped on the wet rocks and rough hands jerked her up, dangling her against the side of a horse that galloped off through the darkness. Dripping wet, gasping for air, arms flailing, she saw Joe silhouetted in the torchlight, tied to a tree. 

Chapter 2 – All Alone

“Do what you got to do. Do what you got to do.” 

Molly let Mammy’s words cling to her mind like a warm coat. She whispered the words over and over while the rickety wagon rolled her from side to side. After a while she blinked and tried to sit up only to fall over again. Her eyes were scratchy and she couldn’t make her arms move. She tried to remember. Screams. And dogs. She lay real still and listened. The sounds now were low and quiet. Like moans. People were all around her but Mammy was not there. The wagon jostled her about and sometimes she saw trees and bushes whisking by.

The sun, hot on her face, woke Molly. She tried to open her eyes but the light hurt. Preacher Willy’s face floated before her and she whispered, ‘Thank ye Lord for loving me.”

She slid in and out of sleep and saw Joe’s face, screwed up in pain with something stuffed in his mouth. Do what you got to do. Praise the Lord God Almighty. Her head felt heavy watching the sliver of moon drift in and out between the passing trees. The wagon bumped and jostled and somebody pushed her. She got so scared tears almost spilled down her face but she shook her head, swallowed hard, and clamped her jaws together. Her mind could only remember pray. She didn’t have fancy words like Preacher Willy, but repeating his words, ‘Praise the Lord God Almighty,’ helped her feel brave. She felt really safe when she prayed, ‘Thank ye Lord for Jesus.’

Praying helped so much, she forgot and said it out loud. The old, black woman wobbling next to her in the wagon snorted. “You is sho’nuff a stupid young’un. Sitting here with your hands tied with rope, no food since yestidy, and talking ’bout God. If’n God cared ’bout us, that white devil wouldn’t have whipped us. Now shut you mouth.” The woman’s spit landed on Molly’s dirty work pants.

Molly wondered why the old woman was so fat if she hadn’t been eating but she took the warning to heart and didn’t talk out loud anymore.

She couldn’t figure out how long they had been in the wagon. Her mouth was dry and there was blood on her wrists where the rope cut into her skin. Splinters from the old, rough wagon tore Molly’s skin as she tried to stay in a corner. Her stomach growled again, so she forced hersel to think of something to forget the pain in her belly.

 Thinking about the cold water back in the creek made her feel warm. She didn’t understand how she was so cold and so warm at the same time. As Preacher Willy’s face came to the front of her memory, she smiled. Then she thought, Oh my. Preacher Willy said to go and tell everybody about Jesus but I don’t know how.

 Her stomach growled louder and she slept. Suddenly Molly woke with a jerk. The driver snapped his whip and the prisoners in the back of the wagon lurched around until the wagon bumped to a stop.

Do what you got to do. Do what you got to do. What I got to do is listen but keep my eyes down and do what I’m told. I got to not be scared. Molly struggled to breathe and wiggled around until she got out from under the fat woman who had fallen over on her. The woman kicked but missed Molly’s stomach.

The driver’s helper yelled, “Everbody out! Now! We ain’t got all day.” He pushed and shoved the prisoners and cracked his whip. “March over to that auction block. Time’s wasting!”

The other white man from the wagon had kept watch with a big gun but now he was tying the prisoners together with ropes around their necks. Molly was next to the end of the line and the rope hurt her neck real bad because she was so short. The man behind her had iron things on his wrists and ankles. His pants had a lot of blood all over them.

When the prisoners finally stopped jerking and pulling each other down, Molly got a breath. She looked up at the man who was bleeding and said, “Do it hurt, Mister? I’s so sorry. Mammy showed me how to do bandages, but my hands is tied……”

The man stared straight ahead and didn’t answer Molly’s questions. Sweat trickled down between the hard lines of his gnarled face. Molly looked down at the ground so she didn’t have to watch the blood drip off his hands.

Chapter 3 – Stand Off

Stone Estates, a large farm in western Kentucky.

Even for September, the day was a hot one. Robert Stone, proud to soon bring a young wife to Stone Estates, had been on a rampage for weeks, readying things for its new mistress. Yesterday he took old Millie to town and came home without her. She’d been owned by the Stone family for years. Everybody guessed he sold her. Nobody knew. Nothing had been the same since Massa’s own mamma died. There was a lot of talk down at the quarters about why the old Massa left Stone Estates to live with another son but none of the workers knew anything for sure. Young Robert Stone just didn’t care about anybody the way the old Missus had.

Annie Fisher leaned on her hoe, watching the cloud of dust in the valley below the big house.

“Silas?” she called, looking over the fence between the garden and the barn.

“Yeah, Babe?”

“Massa’s coming. Moving that wagon real fast. Best spread the word.”

 Silas’ shrill whistle rolled through the barn and across the nearby pasture, alerting tired workers. He came out of the barn wiping sweat off his dark face with a dirty kerchief. “Feels like trouble brewing. Wonder what he was up to in town this time?”

Annie never grew tired watching Silas. Sometimes she sensed his nearness before she could see him. It had been like that since the first day he walked up the hill to the big house five years ago. She had given him a drink from the well then watched in awe as he marched right up to the front porch and asked for a job from old Massa Stone. A free colored who could talk good as the white folks and had a smile that tickled her toes. Annie turned back to her garden. “Jes hope Massa ain’t been drinking all day.”

By the time Robert Stone jerked the team to a halt, Silas was ready and grabbed the reins. “Howdy, Massa,” slipping easily into the expected slave twang.

“Where in tarnation is James hiding out? Get him out here! Now!”

“I’s here, Massa, I’s here. Jes calm yerself, Suh.” James helped his master down from the wagon.

“Silas, get those filthy black devils in the wagon down to the creek. I want them clean! Paid too much for them but let’s see what we got. They smell like dead stuff. Keep ’em tied. Never know what these dummies will do. James! Get me some whiskey.”

James Thompson had seen the dust cloud, too, and as head house slave was prepared. On the south porch he had already laid out a glass, a bottle of whiskey, and a plate with slices of ham. James set the houseboy to fanning their master with an oversized hand fan.

Silas yelled for Moses to bring some hands from the barn. They knew that Master Stone often brought in new slaves and although he would just as often sell them off the next day, his new “property” had to be cleaned up first.

“Annie,” Silas called over his shoulder, “better get some vittles ready in our shack. These folks look hungry! Moses, let’s head to the creek.”

“Ye-haw!” Moses slapped the horses as Silas hoisted himself onto the wagon. He counted three dust-covered bodies, resembling humanity, huddled together, not moving. One man looked to be young and maybe good stock and the other two appeared older. The wagon hit a bump and the taller man fell over. Silas yelled, “Hold it, Moses! Annie! Get over here!”

Silas stood still. All eyes in the wagon watched him. No one moved. Or breathed.

Annie ran to the wagon, breathing hard, skirt held high. “Wha….Oh my god!” Her hand flew to her mouth.

Silas squatted down, hands folded in front of him. “Hey, Missy,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid. You all right?”

The child, eyes wide, half nodded.

“Don’t you worry, now. Don’t you worry.” He smiled and touched the top of her head with his fingers. She pulled blood-stained arms around her body.

Without taking his eyes off the child, Silas slammed his free hand on the wagon. “Hey! You men! Just sit down! Hear me?” Silas motioned to Moses and Annie.

The Stone slaves were accustomed to unexpected things, but finding a small child with no mammy was a first. Silas whispered, “Don’t you worry, Missy. Don’t you worry.”

He walked Annie away from the wagon, put his hands on her shoulders, and held her firm. Their eyes locked. “This will be touch and go, Annie,” Silas said.

Annie nodded. “Silas, where’s her mammy? Wha… do you mean… we might….”

“Shhh. Now stay calm. It is very important for you to stay calm.” Silas pulled Annie to him in a quick embrace. “Moses, you and Dirk get the men cleaned up and watch out for Annie while she washes the child. I’ll go talk to Massa. Annie…. You know he might… you understand that we can’t count on….”

Annie put her hand on Silas’s lips. “Jes be careful. Please. No telling what happened to poor ole Millie. Now this. I be praying. God have mercy.”

Annie climbed onto the wagon seat next to Moses and as soon as Silas put the child in Annie’s outstretched arms, Moses turned the horses to the creek. Silas pushed his hat back on his head and sighed. This will take some tall talking.

On the way to the south porch, he signaled to James. The men whispered a few words; James nodded and went into the house through the kitchen.

Silas Fisher splashed cool water on his face from the pump in the back yard, wiped himself dry with his stained kerchief, and took a deep breath. Controlling his breathing, he moseyed around to the front porch. Move slow. Think slave talk.

Out loud he drawled, “Evening, Massa.” Silas held his hat in his hands and noted two empty glasses already on the side table.

“Got some good men, don’t you think?” Robert leaned back in the tall rocking chair.

“Yeah’suh, ‘sho nuff. They looks mighty strong. We’ll need ‘em, too, if’n the weather holds and we git good dew. Seed hemp’s ready fer harvest ’bout next week.”

Stone took a fresh glass, full to the brim, from James. “I figured we’ll need lots of hands to get both the hemp and the tobacco in.”

“Well now, Massa, that brings to mind what I been thinking. I done been here five years and I jes promised you and your pappy one.”

“Watch your mouth, man!” Robert Stone jerked forward in his chair, planting both feet on the floor. “Haven’t you learned that you blackies don’t think?”

“Yeah’suh, I knows dat. But I don’t cotton none to men who hurt little helpless chil’uns.”

Robert Stone stood up and kicked the cane table out of his way. “You got no right…what the sam-hill are you talking about?”

“That baby in the wagon. Suh!” Silas spit the word. “She’s jes a little girl child. No mammy or nuthin.” Silas clenched his fists inside his pockets so his hands wouldn’t shake. Or, fly off and hit the master!

Stone grabbed his whip from the floor and snapped it, stirring up dust on the porch. “You don’t have any say in what happens around here, now do you, mister smart mouth!”

“I reckon if’n you wants them crops in, I does have something to say.”

Silas had no idea how drunk Stone was or how far he could push. Nobody ever knew. He pictured Annie at the creek with the child, felt a ripple in his stomach, and pulled his shoulders back. If this didn’t go well, would Annie act quickly and run with the child? Lord, protect my Annie..

The white man and the black man stood toe to toe on the south porch of the big house, eyes flashing. With hands that trembled, the little black boy moved the big fan back and forth.

Chapter 4 – The Whiskey Battle

“Moses!” Robert Stone bellowed.

Silas said, “He ain’t here, Suh. Him’s cleaning up your new slaves.”

Stone gripped the whip in both hands, glaring at Silas.

Silas stood ramrod straight, hands behind his back, looking Stone straight in the eyes.

Stone’s breath came in short gasps and sweat rolled down his face. He moved the whip to his left hand and steadied himself on the porch post.

The door closed softly and James said, “Here ya go, Massa. A nice cool drink of whisky. I even found some of Annie’s mint. Sho do smell good, don’t it, Suh?”

The little boy, eyes wide, moved the big fan up and down.

Silas put his hat on and walked down the porch steps. One. Two. Three.

As Silas set his left foot on the ground, Robert yelled, “Wait! Just hold your horses. James! Bring out another glass!”

Whiskey had never touched Silas’s mouth but concealing his amusement he turned slowly, stared at Stone, then walked carefully back up the steps. He leaned on the rail, stuck a straw in his mouth, and chewed on it as if he had nothing else in the world to do.

Robert Stone moved his rocker back and forth. Faster and faster until James returned with two glasses.

 “Suh,” Silas lifted his glass and said just above a whisper, “Remember, I got my free papers.”

Robert gulped his drink and stopped the rocking chair.

“I done saved this here farm for you and ever body in the county knows dat, Suh. Your own pappy knows dat. Ain’t nothing holding me here. I’s ’bout ready to head back out west.”

“And you know I’ve got a wedding coming up and a new missus arriving.”

The men looked at each other. Robert rocked again. “You also know that since my father is staying with my brother, I must have someone I can trust, someone who knows the business, to keep this farm running.”

The sun slid behind the trees and the men took turns stating their case. Sometimes Silas forgot himself and slipped into the proper English from his childhood, but Robert Stone didn’t notice. James kept the master’s glass full.

 “Aw’right! Aw’right!” Stone’s words slurred. “Dammit. Wha’cha want?”

“Well, Suh, I guess I might could stay on awhile. But, you gotta sign this here paper, saying Annie and me can keep the new young’un and raise her as our own.”

“You’re a crazy man! I paid for her! I own her lock, body, stock, and … something or other.”

“Yeah’suh. But you needs to sign this paper. You still owns her, but she stays wid me and Annie. Right?”

Robert glared. And wobbled. Then picked up the quill.

“That’s it, Suh, right here. Yeah’suh, dat’s right good.”

Robert Stone slammed the quill on the table, James grabbed the ink well, and the master stumbled into the house.

It was full night when Silas got to his cabin. He guessed he must have been at the big house about three hours. The cabin was dark but the door was open. He listened a minute then whispered, “Annie?”

“Shhhh. Oh, thank God.”

He lit the lone candle on the table and it threw shadows around the walls of the small cabin. The only sound was the creak of the rocking chair he had had made for Annie as a wedding present when the master allowed her to be his wife. Tears glistened on Annie’s cheeks as she rocked. The little girl from the wagon, snuggled in Annie’s arms, slept, breathing softly.

Silas kissed the top of Annie’s head then picked up the armful of fresh, sweet-smelling hay he’d brought up from the barn. From the shelf above the bed he had built against one wall, Silas pulled out their one spare quilt and spread it over the hay on the floor. He lifted the child from Annie’s arms and laid her on the quilt. The little girl turned on her side and slipped thin hands under her clean but bruised cheek without waking.

Silas took Annie in his arms and guided her outside. “Well, Baby, you are a mother.”

“Oh Silas, don’t fool wid me. I thought I’d lost you tonight, and now…” her words tumbled over each other. “She’s jes so sweet and scared and jes seven years old. She had a mammy and pappy but he worked someplace else and her name’s Molly. Why, Silas, she even knows her name from her pappy. Harris. She’s Molly Harris and she went to the river and oh Silas it was jes awful.”

“Now don’t you worry your sweet head. I’m fine. You’re fine. And the child—Molly, will stay with us.”

Annie sucked in her breath and leaned against the doorframe. “Oh Lord bless us. Tell me… how… everything.”

 In whispers, Silas told the tale of his bargaining with the master. Annie asked questions, twisted her apron into knots, and moved back and forth to the door to look at Molly. She paced around Silas and she cried. And laughed. And hugged the man she loved.

Silas kissed Annie and said, “Our Molly will have a real bed by nightfall, I promise!”

He did not put into words the truth that whiskey had won this battle. Or that the war would rage on.

Safe in Silas’ arms, Annie lay awake listening to the sweet sound of Molly’s soft breathing and tried to choke down her own dark fears. Change could not be stopped.

Chapter 5 – Emma’s Orders

  The Big House at Blake Farms in eastern Kentucky. Early September, 1802

Emma Wilson had been owned by the Blake family since she could remember. She lifted a big skillet to the worktable to give it a final scrubbing. This here kitchen’s too hot to breathe. Two more pots to go then she would carry all her cook vessels outside to dry. They just seemed cleaner after baking in the summer sun. She remembered as a little girl helping her mama clean this same kitchen. Emma was glad she had never worked in the fields but today she felt old and running the kitchen was hot, dirty work. She figured she was something like twenty-eight years old ’cause somebody told her she was nine when Missus Blake made her the nursemaid to that tiny, screaming baby Louise. And now Miz Louise, at only seventeen and spoiled to no good, was about to get married. Shameful, it was.

Jake poked his head into the hot kitchen, interrupting her thoughts. “Emma, Missus Blake wants to see you! She’s upstairs in the sewing room.” The head man-servant retreated quickly to find cooler places, commanding over his shoulder, “Right now!”

Emma’s stomach tightened. Being summoned from assigned work was a serious matter. She leaned over the fireplace and pulled the heavy pot of bubbling water to the stones on the edge of the hearth, wiped her hands, grabbed a clean apron off the hook, and hurried up the back stairs. “I ain’t never gonna git this here kitchen ready to cook enough marrying vittles fer all them white peoples,” Emma muttered under her breath. She gritted her teeth and forced her mouth into a smile.

Martha Blake was alone in the sewing room. Emma folded her hands under her apron, nodded her head, and said quietly, “You sent fer me, Missus?’

“Oh, yes, Emma. Come in. Here, sit by the window.”

Although accustomed to drastic changes in white folks, Emma concealed her surprise at being told to sit. She kept her eyes on the floor and gingerly sat on the edge of the straight chair.

“I’m worried, Emma. About Louise. She’s been her father’s pride and joy since the day she was born. I don’t know what we ever would have done without you. What a fine nursemaid you became.”

Emma sat still, not looking up, confused. Missus didn’t seem mad or upset. Emma listened as her mistress rambled on.

“Louise is so young. I don’t know if she’s ready to be mistress of a home. I don’t know if Robert Stone…” Her words drifted off but Emma caught a sharp edge to her voice. Mrs. Blake stood up, leaned on the windowsill, and looked out over the rolling meadow.

Emma hoped her mistress would not collapse. Mrs. Blake had been frail since her last son was born twelve years before.

Mrs. Blake turned slowly from the window and picked up Emma’s black, work-worn hands in her own soft white ones. “Emma, look at me. Please.”

Emma slowly raised her eyes and looked at Mrs. Blake’s nose.

“No, Emma, look into my eyes.”

The sound of their breathing echoed in the room as the older mistress and younger servant stared into each other’s eyes.

Mrs. Blake smiled. “You’re a good girl, Emma. I trust you.”

Emma quickly dropped her eyes, pulled her hands back and put them in her lap.

“Now.” Mrs. Blake took a deep breath. “Emma, you’ve been with me since you were a child. How long has that been? My! I guess over 25 years. You were only a child yourself when Louise was born but you learned your lessons well. Mr. Blake has agreed that you will go with Louise to her new home. She’s still a child, only 17, but a bride, a woman, a… yes, a wife. Yes, Emma. She will need you. Robert Stone is a.. well, Louise will need you.”

“Yes’em.” Emma’s throat tightened, her mouth dry as summer cotton.

Mrs. Blake went to the door and looked up and down the hall then gently closed the door and sat down close to Emma.

In a whisper she said, “Emma, you do understand, don’t you, that you must never, never, ever let anyone know that I taught you to read?”

“Yes’em, I does,” Emma answered quietly, barely mouthing the words.

“It is still against the law but I believed it was right and proper. Besides, I had to.. so.. so you could teach Louise for me. After she was born, I was sick so much and I lost—what? Four babies?” Martha Blake paused, remembering. “I remember how the delivery of each of the living boys was so hard there was no one to take over Lou’s education.” She smiled. “You did a fine job, too. But, Emma. Please. Remember! Always watch and listen.” Mrs. Blake began to pace. “I simply cannot fathom what is wrong with people. My father would turn over in his grave if he knew people in my own household were not allowed to read.” She paused and smiled, remembering. “Especially the Bible. Did I tell you, Emma, that my father was a minister? Yes, I suppose I did.”

She sat down and picked up her knitting. “Father always said, ‘unused hands cause great distress.’ I’m sure he was right.”

Mrs. Blake rocked and knitted for a while, forgetting Emma was in the room. Then she stopped, put the yarn and needles away, and leaned close to Emma.

“It is settled, then. The wedding is only two weeks away. The celebrations will last five days here at Blake Farms and then you will travel with my Louise to Stone Estates. You are the only one I can trust to take care of her. Do you understand?”

“Yes’em, Missus. You knows I loves Miss Louise. But, ma’am….”

“I will pack a bag for you, Emma. Now listen carefully. The Bible from which I taught you to read must go with you. It is normal for a new bride to have a Bible with her. Yes. That will be safe. I will slip the Bible into the bottom of Louise’s bags and hide it, myself, among her private wear. It will be perfectly normal, don’t you think?”

Although Mrs. Blake often asked Emma questions as she worked things out in her mind, Emma never responded.

“You’ll need the Bible, Emma. Things will be hard for Louise and you must continue to look after her, teach her, and read scripture to her. In addition to helping her run a large household, you’ll need to keep practicing your reading and making your letters. But, mind what I say, Emma. You must stay alert. Do you understand?”

“Yes’em. I hears. But… Missus – what you gonna do wid out me?” Emma sucked in her breath, shocked at her own words.

 “I’ll be fine, Emma.” Mrs. Blake laughed. “Don’t you know what a strong, mean, old woman I am?”

Emma had never heard her missus laugh.

“Very well. It is settled. Mr. Blake will have Jake find someone to pack whatever things you need for the trip.”

Mrs. Blake turned back to the window. Emma stood, too, but her legs would not let her walk to the door. She trembled.

“Thank you, Emma. That’s all. You’ll be fine.”

Emma did not move. She did not breathe.

“Are you alright, Emma? What is it?”

“Ma’am. Wha.. wha.. ’bout my Sarah?”

“What? Who?”

“Sarah, ma’am.” Emma squeezed her hands together and clenched her jaw to keep from screaming.

“Oh. Sarah. Oh.” Mrs. Blake sat down and looked at her hands. “That’s.. yes.. that’s your child.”

Emma could only nod. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Martha frowned. “I see. Yes. I had forgotten. I remember she has done well in the kitchen, even for a little child, but…..” her voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Blake expects her to grow into a worker in our kitchen.” She stood. The women stared at each other. Finally, Martha turned to the window. “Go on about your duties, Emma. Time is moving.”

Emma’s fingernails dug into her skin. She covered her mouth with her hands. Her throat closed too tight to swallow. Oh, God, no. I cain’t leave my baby. Oh, please, God.”

Emma Wilson stared at her mistress’s back.

Martha Blake leaned against the window, staring beyond the pasture, peaceful with grazing cattle.

Chapter 6 –A New Road

After the wedding. Late September, 1802.

Emma sat on the hard, wooden bench behind the driver of the supply wagon carrying Louise Blake Stone’s luggage and personal possessions. Riding backwards, Emma could not see the wedding carriage in front of them or the new road ahead. The big wagon with household items followed behind and blocked her view of where she had been.

But she couldn’t forget. When her beloved Albert died, Emma thought she would never breathe again much less work and live and obey. Jostling along in the wagon today, she remembered how she clenched her fists that dark night watching friends from the quarters dig her young husband’s grave. Then, as they threw dirt on her Albert’s lifeless body, with no warning, she felt their unborn child move for the first time. Emma still remembered the shrill sound of her own screams echoing through the trees in the dark woods. She still felt the pain in her chest. Yes, they had created life together and she’d had no time to tell Albert.

The baby had come early but stubbornly clung to life with Albert Wilson’s own feisty, life-loving spirit. Little Sarah, with her daddy’s quick wit and devilish grin, was a handful and the one ray of sunshine in Emma’s days.

The past fifteen days were the longest in Emma’s memory but had passed in a blur. Terrorized from uncertainty, she slept little and from ingrained habit got through the frenzy of cooking, serving, cleaning, and scurrying about. She kept Sarah within arm’s length at all times. Her sharpest memory was the stifling, heavy perfumes on the fancy white folks. Then, early on the morning of departure, she stood at the kitchen door gripping Sarah’s hand. Limp, trembling, and prayed out, she silently watched life-long black friends load the supply wagon for the wedding trip to Stone Estates.

Suddenly, stern, demanding Missus Blake touched Emma’s shoulder and whispered, “God is good, Emma. It is settled. Sarah is legally part of Louise’s dowry.”

Martha Blake put her arms around Emma and hugged her close then quickly left the kitchen. No white person had ever hugged Emma before.

Scrunched on the floor of the wagon between her mama’s legs, Sarah began to wiggle, jerking Emma out of remembering. “Mama, I’s tired of being quiet. I’s tired of being still. What’s a stone state? When is we ever gonna git there?”

Emma was tired, too, but she kept her back rim-rod straight. She could endure anything so long as she and Sara were together.

 “Stone Estates, Sarah,” Emma Wilson pronounced slowly and smiled. “It’s a big farm where we gonna live. I doesn’t know how long. You is being such a good girl.” Emma moved her feet to make more room for her little girl. “Be quiet now and try to sleep.”

Emma had no idea how Missus Blake worked things out for Sarah to come with her. Again she simply whispered, “Thank you, sweet Jesus.”

The wedding party had been traveling two days and the head driver said they would spend one more night on the road. Emma heard the drivers complaining last night about ‘the fancy missus” being a bad traveler. At least the weather was warm, so Emma didn’t mind sleeping in the open supply wagon at their stops. She had packed enough food to feed Sarah and the drivers. She wondered again if she had taught Sarah well enough to handle all these unexpected and sudden changes. Heavens, even Emma didn’t know what they faced. She just knew she could survive anything for Sarah. She could work all day and all night if need be. She knew she was the best cook on Blake Farms and she knew full well how to play her part… the dumb slave, the slow nursemaid. With sweaty hands, Emma gripped the small bag containing Miz Louise’s personal things. Well, tomorrow she would be part of Stone Estates.

“Sarah, we’s stopping for the night. Run over to them bushes and do your business. And be quick. I’ll set your supper out.”

Keeping an eye on the inn so she’d know when Miz Louise had finished dining, Emma gave old Doc and the other drivers each a big piece of apple pie extracting their solemn promises to keep Sarah out of trouble while she tended to the missus. 

“Now look at me, Sarah, and mind what I say. Stay right here by this wagon. Promise?”

“Yes’em. I promises.”

Sarah’s grin meant the drivers would have their hands full tonight. Lord, please keep her quiet and good.

“Emma! Where are you?”

“I’s coming, Miz Louise. Don’t you worry none.”

“But, Emma, Robert went to the tavern and I have to get ready for bed by myself. It isn’t fair.”

“Now, Miz Louise, let’s get you all prettied up and rested before Massa comes upstairs. Jes think, tomorrow, you’ll be at your own new home. Now, won’t that be something?”

Emma kept up a line of chatter while she got Louise settled. Then, sitting in the chair by the door waiting for Massa Stone to come upstairs to his bride, Emma worried about Sarah. She was glad Massa Blake had sent old Doc with them as a driver because she didn’t like the looks of the younger driver. He was a new slave at Blake Farms. Sarah was a child and Emma was no fool. She prayed that Doc could look after Sarah while she took care of the Missus. How she would handle Sarah at the new place, only God knew and right now; everything was up to God. She wished she had the Bible out of Louise’s bag. Just holding the book and reading God’s words would settle the fear clutching her heart. Instead she sat quietly, twisting her hands under her apron.

Now Emma, you knows better than to fret and worry, she scolded herself. Jes think a bit. You done hid His word in your heart long ’fore you could read. It’s right there where you kin reach it without touching the book. Emma closed her eyes trying to think. Then she whispered, over and over, “I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress…His truth shall be thy shield…Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night.”

And I won’t be afraid of Stone Estates!

Chapter 7 –  The Kitchens

“Howdy.”

Emma jumped and whirled around. “Pardon?”

Annie grinned and pushed her straw hat back. “I say ‘howdy.’ I is Annie. You must be the new cook.”

“I ain’t rightly sure what I is.” Emma sighed and smoothed down her worn and dusty shawl. “Or where I is,” she added, looking up at the big white house.

“My name’s Annie Fisher. I does the garden work. Raises right nice herbs that make soups taste better…if’n they’s a cook wid sense enough to use ’em.”

“Well, I – well, your garden seems…big.” Emma looked from the garden back to the house.

“My man is Massa’s over see’r. Silas Fisher,” Annie beamed. “He ain’t never been no slave. He come from one of them big cities in the east, born a free colored!”

“I is Emma Wilson and I guesses I is ’posed to git tea ready fer the missus and find something for their supper. Sure would like some of this—leaf  thing. Smells good, like it might go with eggs in the morning. Miz Louise, uh, I means, Missus Stone, always has eggs when she wakes up.”

Annie wiped her sweaty face with a rag from her pocket. “Ain’t been no cook what’s worth salt ‘round the big house since the massa’s own mammy passed. Maybe some good cooking and a wife will ease up Massa’s dispozishun!” Annie grinned and gave Emma a handful of green leaves. “These will brew up into a right nice calming tea. I ’spect the new missus will need some calming after that traveling.”

“You is right on that! Don’t mind telling you I is glad to be off that wagon with my feet planted on God’s ground even though I hasn’t any idea in eternity what happens next.” Emma turned toward the house. “Guess I gonna find out, soon ’nuff. Thank you for saying howdy, Annie. And fer the tea leaves. I gonna do my best.”

“Allow me, ma’am!”

Emma jumped again.

A tall black man pulled the door open. “Welcome to the kitchen at Stone Estates, Miss Emma. My name’s James. Massa calls me da main, house slave. I also be mighty proud if’n you does anything to ease up his dispozishun!”

“I, uh, well, I guess I ain’t sure what I kin do.” Emma looked around then whispered, “Is his dispozishun that bad?”

James Thompson grinned. “You find your tea pot and I’ll haul in some wood for the cook fire. Driver Doc already carried your little’un to the kitchen. She’s sleeping sound on a quilt. There, under the window.”

Emma spun around. “A real window in the kitchen? Well, I swan to goodness!” She moved her fingers across the place where a little light came through. “Humph! Guess there might be glass under all that dirt.” But she smiled and satisfied that Sarah was safe and not in the way of prying eyes, she unpacked the old china tea set Mrs. Blake sent. She told Emma they were going to a place that might be backwards so it would be good to have a nice tea set.

James hauled in wood and fresh water then started a fire.

Emma frowned at the rank odor of burning dirt. “Lordy, have mercy. Ain’t nobody oughta eat nuthing cooked in this place. I never seen so much dirt and grit and grime before in my whole life. Ain’t never gonna git it clean enough to cook out of.” Emma sat down at the table, put her head in her hands, and fought back tears.

James went around the table and laid his hand on her shoulder and looked upward. “Lord, thank ye for sending this woman to this house. I feels the spirit in her and I asks you to save her from worry and fear. Help her be your slave first, Lord. Amen.” He patted her shoulder and said, “Now, Miz Emma, you clang this bell when the tea is ready fer me to take to the sitting room. Uh, you bes know that  Massa likes his supper by sundown.” James paused at the stairs leading up to the first floor and smiled at Emma. “We’ll start scrubbing ’fore daylight in the morning.”

Emma wiped her face on her stained apron and stood up. Well, Lord, I guess I fergot you promised to come here in front of me.

Taking a deep breath, she found some rags and began scrubbing the worktable. After James took the tea set to the porch, Emma poked around the cupboards, shelves, and drawers. She pulled out a china platter from behind some wooden bowls. There was still some bread, a little cheese, and apples from the trip. This Kentucky place might be in the worst part of God’s wilderness, but she vowed to make a home here for Miz Louise and her new husband. God knew his own business better than she did. She had promised Missus Blake she would take care of Miz Louise. Emma’s word was her bond. Maybe tonight she would serve a supper tray to Miz Louise and the new massa on the front porch about sundown. 

Emma wiped the lovely china platter. Yes, I’s gonna make this place a home.

* * *

When Annie pushed open the door to her cabin, her tiredness drained away like feathers blown by the wind. Getting home was the best part of her day.

“Molly? You here, chile? Silas?”

Even though there was a little daylight left, the windowless cabin was dim. And silent. Annie groped along the shelf inside the door and lit the candle. Molly had left the room neat and tidy that morning. She was learning fast. Annie propped the door open hoping for a little breeze to stir the air. By the time she could get supper ready, it would be mighty warm inside. Maybe they would sit outside to eat. The chairs Silas made from those hardwood trees down by the creek sure made sitting outside easier. She hummed as she fanned the coals and watched them spring to life. When Silas had time to bank the fire in the mornings, it always came to life quickly for her in the evenings. She could hardly wait to tell Silas and Molly about Emma.

“Annie, I’s here.” Molly said from the doorway, her voice soft as a summer breeze.

Annie turned and smiled. Seeing Molly stand in the cabin filled her heart with so much love she thought it would burst. “I’s glad you is home.”  Even in the dim light, she could tell Molly’s awful bruises were going away each day.

Molly looked at the floor. “I stopped by the barn to see if Silas left anything fer me to haul home but I didn’t find nothing.”

“He been clearing land way back yonder at Forty Oaks. He’ll be along directly. Where’d you work today?” Annie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Onions always burned her eyes but, determined to see Molly’s cheeks fill out, she used all the leftover vegetables she could from the big house garden.

“This morning, I finished cleaning up the bedroom for Massa and the new missus that Mista James had me start yesterday. It was a awful mess when I started, but I got it cleaned real good before them wedding wagons got here. I even cut some of your flowers and put ’em in a pretty glass. I stuck some of that sweet-smelling stuff you called rosemary in it.” Molly went back outside to get the two quilts she had hung on the limbs of the beech tree to air out that morning and called over her shoulder, “That room sure did smell better when I got through with it. Phewww. Plain putrid in there!” She wrinkled her nose.

“Did you put clean wash-water on her dresser?”

“Yes’em, I did. Then when them wagons got here, while the new missus freshened herself and had tea downstairs, I unpacked her bags.” Molly’s face lit up with the biggest smile Annie had seen. “Why, Annie, that one white woman’s got more clothes than I seed in my whole life! And ever color of the rainbow. They’s jes so purty.”

 “They takes lots of work to keep ’em dat a way, too, chile!” Annie hit the iron pot a little too hard with her wooden spoon. She knew her little Molly would never wear pretty clothes like the Missus had.

“Yes’em, I knows, but they sure be purty. All smooth and soft feeling.”

Annie raked the chopped onion into the skillet.

 “Did you see the new slaves what come with the Missus today?”

“No ma’am. Did you?”

“Man alive!” Silas’ body filled up the doorway. “It sure smells good in here!”

Annie laughed and Silas put his massive arms around her thin waist, kissing the back of her neck.

“Silas! Behaves youself,” Annie whispered, but smiled as she stirred the sizzling onions.

“What new slaves? Molly, anybody give you any trouble today? Did the Massa and his new missus get here?”

“Slow down, mister busy man and go wash up. We gonna sit outside to eat our vittles. Molly, you wash, too.”

Molly hurried out the door, squeezing her eyes tight to keep tears from falling. She didn’t want Annie to see her cry. Annie was so good but Molly had never heard anyone laugh as much as Annie and Silas. She knew they worked every bit as hard as her own mammy and pappy but she just missed home so much. She took a deep breath and the tears dried up. Preacher Willy had been right because sometimes she could feel God holding her hand.

Just as they finished supper, James walked up. “Evening, Annie, Silas.How you be, little Molly? ”

“Sit a spell, James,” Silas offered.

“Ain’t got the time but thought maybe you could round up some neighbors to fix the empty cabin nearest yours for the new cook. She’s got a chile bout like Molly.”

Annie grinned. “Now ain’t that nice, Molly! I said howdy to Emma this afternoon, but didn’t see no chile.”

Silas said, “You’re right, James. Well need to settle the cook as close to the big house as we can. If she’s as good as we heard, Massa will want her in the sound of his yell. Cabin Two is the best place. I’ll have it cleaned up tomorrow. They can stay here tonight.”

James grinned at Molly. “You did a right fine job cleaning up Massa’s bedroom, chile.”

Molly smiled and looked at the ground. Annie pulled her close and kissed her cheek.

“Well,” Silas stretched. “Come on, James, let’s see if we can help Miz Emma. She’s going to be in for it!”

Chapter 8 – Growing Little Slaves

“Up and at ’em! Come on, girls. It’s almost daylight and time’s wasting.”

“Morning, Mimi.” Molly grinned up at Annie and tickled Sarah’s ribs. “Come on, Sally! You heared Miz Annie.”

“But it’s dark out and it’s cold. And don’t call me ‘Sally!’” Sarah tried to turn over but Molly pushed her off the quilt onto the hard, dirt floor.

“Little friend, you don’t know nothing ’bout cold!” Molly said, “Race you to the outhouse!”

Annie rummaged through the weeds around the little holly bush along the side of the cabin. Sure enough, the gourd was there. She pushed back the lid to find about two small servings of fresh cows’ milk. Silas said that if little children had to work from sunup to dark, they must have nourishment. She smiled wondering how he managed to make his milk deliveries in such secret. When she and Silas got Molly, he added their own house to the list and now that Emma’s Sarah was spending most nights with them, there was enough for her, too. Silas never told Annie how he pulled it off and she didn’t ask but just kept a supply of dried gourds stored in the barn. Then, off and on, the used gourds, spanking clean, showed up back in the barn ready for another day’s delivery.  

Setting out some biscuits for the girls, Annie almost felt safe enough to breathe a little easier. Many decisions had been made with little time to think and, Emma had agreed it was smart for Sarah to stay at the Fisher cabin until things eased up at the big house. Emma got to the kitchen every morning way before daylight and stumbled back to her little cabin long after the workers’ quarters were quiet. It wouldn’t do for Sarah to be alone and they agreed not run the risk of a five-year-old getting in the way before she had learned the new ways at Stone Estates.

“Now remember, girls, this here milk is our secret. Don’t neither one of you ever lie, but don’t talk about it either. Hear me?”

“Yes’em,” Sarah nodded.

“We knows, Mimi. It sure do go good wid these biscuits, don’t it Sarah?”

Annie turned back to the fireplace, busily brushing ashes back into the fire. She didn’t know how Molly came up with the name ‘Mimi’ but sometimes tears sprung to Annie’s eyes as the word slipped out of Molly’s lips in a whisper and brushed Annie’s heart. The girls finished their sparse vittles and helped Annie bank the fire then the three headed up the path to the big house property inside the main fence.

“I’s so proud of both of you. You is learning fast and you is learning good.”

Sarah made a face. “Well, Miz Annie, I sho don’t like it when them white folks orders me ’round. And I really don’t like it when somebody talks mean to my mamma. Lordy mercy, I jes gets so fired up.”

Annie covered her mouth, concealing her grin. For a little child, Sarah had mighty big opinions. Clearing her throat, she said, “Now, Miz Sarah! Since when do you think you is big enough to use such growed up talking? I’ll have you watch your words, little lady!”

“I’s sorry, Miz Annie. But I cain’t help it.” She stomped her tiny foot.

“I know,” Molly said and pulled Sarah along side her as they trotted up the path. “But you got to cover up them angry thoughts. When I feels mad, I just ask Jesus to help me think good thoughts.”

“You both gonna work in the garden wid me this morning,” Annie said as they gathered up tools and implements for the day’s work. “The last of these here taters gotta get dug this very day. But, first let’s get quiet. Squat down here at the head of this first tater row and we’ll pray over our work before you start digging.” The sun was just peeking through the trees down the hill. “Lord, good morning. This here is gonna be a mighty fine day you is giving us. Help us to use it good. And, Lord, we love little Sarah and hope you will help her to be real careful with her words. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.” And please takes care of my Silas.

“Now work real fast, girls so time will pass in a hurry.”

 “Let’s race, Sally!” Molly giggled.

Sarah threw two potatoes into the basket. “I got the first ones!”

The girls jumped into their work with grins and chattering. Annie gritted her teeth knowing their fun would not last long. She shoved the pitchfork into the soft dirt with such anger, she almost toppled over. Catching her balance, she whispered, Lord, I’s sorry. Molly’s right. Please steady me. As she readied the section for winter, she planned how much manure she’d have the barn boys bring in tomorrow. Thinking about stomping around in manure she stopped, leaned on the pitchfork a minute and grinned. Please, Lord, hold off the rain ’till I gits the fall plowing done.

The sun moved up in the sky while Annie worked back and forth between the garden and the barn and listened to Molly and Sarah chatter and the plop-plop as they filled baskets with potatoes.

“Miz Annie?” Sarah stood up and brushed dirt off her hands. “I doesn’t like these here long pants like what those dirty boys wear. Can I have a drink of water? Do you think that tomorrow Silas would let me go help pick apples? Maybe, huh? I jes loves to climb way up high in them trees. Why, you can see the whole world up in a tree! I might could even see Jeremiah running around back at the Blake place.”

Annie lifted Sarah up into her arms. “Why chile, you don’t weigh as much as a sac of them ’taters you is digging and your little arms is so thin. We’s gonna have to fatten you up, quick, like we did Molly. Here, help me pump this water.”

Sarah quickly drained the gourd. “Now Sarah, you has to work here in the garden and in the big house when you is told to.”

“But, why, Miz Annie?”

“That’s what the massa ordered. And you jes gotta learn right now that you…

“..do what you got to do and keep your eyes down!” Molly chimed in and hugged Sarah. “It’ll be jes fine, I promises you, Sarah. One day, ’fore you knows it, we’ll be doing things we really likes to do!”

“Back to digging, little workers. Sun’s gitting high in the sky. Sarah, your mamma will set out some dinner for you girls purty soon. Then, after you clean yourselves up real good, you and Miz Ella’s girls will help James do house cleaning.”

“Mimi!” Molly put her hands on her hips. “You knows, don’t you, that those two girls is bone lazy? I can’t git them to do nothing.”

“Yes, chile, I knows. But maybe you could try telling stories while you work. You know, like you used to tell the little ones back home? You best remember, though, to talk real quiet and keep working, but story-telling might help the littler ones work better. Think maybe?”

Molly’s face lit up. “You is right, Mimi. I’s so sorry. I was jes thinking ’bout my own self again. Can I tell ’em the stories ’bout Jesus that Preacher Willie used to tell?”

“Oh, I spec, so. Jes always whisper and stop talking if’n anyone comes close. And, always..”

“Yes’em, I knows.” Molly interrupted. “Always keep my eyes down and don’t say nothing to nobody unless they’s asks me something, die-rectly!!”

That night, both Molly and Sarah fell asleep almost before they made it to Molly’s little bed. Silas deposited an armload of twigs and sticks for the cook fire then went outside to join Annie.

“Hey, Babe.” Silas patted Annie’s back as he sat on the ground next to her chair. “You still braiding onions? You must have enough to feed the whole county all winter.”

“Yeah, had a good crop this year and I figure with a good cook like Emma in da big house, they’ll git used up right fast. Finished the garlic yesterday. Even saved back some for us and the workers when the sickness comes this winter. Got ‘em hid in the old cellar real good.”

“If Massa don’t let up on Emma pretty soon, she’s going to be sick before winter sets in.” Silas began cleaning up trash from Annie’s onions “That woman works more than three others.”

“The onliest time she gets to see Sarah is when the girls work inside for James.”

Silas grinned. “I have an idea that James did some mighty fine finagling on the new work schedules.”

“Did I hear my name mentioned?” James strolled into the candlelight, laughing out loud. “And look who’s wid me!”

Annie jumped up and hugged Emma, almost toppling her over. “Oh it is so good to see you. How’s it going? What can we get fer you? When did you last eat? Here, sit.”

“Hold it!” Emma laughed. “I think my little Sarah has rubbed off on you, Annie. You ask ’bout as many questions as she does.”

“I wish they was still awake. Sarah misses you something awful, Emma.”

“Not more than I misses her.”

James pushed his hat back. “This kitchen lady has the massa tippytoing and acting almost like a human person. I spect to hear him say ‘thank you’ any day now.”

“Now, James, it ain’t going that good, but I tries to do things that will please him. You was sho’nuff right ’bout his disposition, Annie. And…” her voice dropped to a whisper. “I has news.” Her friends leaned forward. “Massa’s pappy is coming next week and will stay a spell.”

Silas leaned against the cabin. “Now that is good news. James, maybe we can get old Master Stone to let the workers have Sunday services here on property again.”

“Oh, Silas! Do you think?” Annie twisted her hands. “Sitting outside the white folks’ church ain’t no kind of worship in my mind!”

James grinned. “I hear tell that Massa’s brother don’t got much of a cook. Hear tell that his missus does the cleaning and the cooking. Why, Emma even made succotash taste so good, Massa done clean his plate and ask fer more. Add in her apple pie and lots of mint from Annie’s garden, well, Silas can do his tall talking!” All of them laughed out loud.

Emma stood up. “It is good to has hope. But now, I best git some sleep if’n Massa gonna git his pies tomorrow. Jes wanted to share the news.”

Annie said, “One more minute won’t hurt, Emma.” She handed the candleholder to her friend. “Go in and jes look at Sarah a while. It’ll do you good.”

Emma nodded, tears glistening on her cheeks.

Chapter 9 – Bruises

“Miz Louise! You put that basket down. Rat now! Ya hear me? Girl, what’s I gonna do wid you! And you wid chile and all. Lord have mercy.” Emma left her tasks cleaning out china cupboards in the dining room and rushed to the front stairs.

“Emma! Mind your mouth! I am no longer a little girl in your care.” Louise gritted her teeth to hide the pain in her abdomen.

“Well, never you mind, jes do what I tell ya!” Emma jerked the basket of books out of Louise’s hands, took her elbow, and guided her up another step. “Sides, this here front hall is too cold fer you to be gallivanting around.”

Louise stopped on the second step. “And, pray tell, miss-know-everything what makes you think I’m ‘wid chile.’ The only thing you need to know is that I am Mrs. Stone, mistress of Stone Estates. You are not my nurse maid and do not forget it!” Louise grabbed the basket back from Emma with one hand, gripped the stair rail with the other, and took three more steps before collapsing.

“I got’cha! Easy now. Hit’s gonna be fine, Misus Stone. Emma’s got’cha. Breathe deep. That’s the way.”

When they reached the bed, Louise quickly pulled up her mama’s quilt. She could not let Emma help her undress and see the bruises. She knew Emma would not hesitate one minute to send word to Mrs. Blake. Louise didn’t understand the bond between her mother and nursemaid, but it had always clearly existed. 

“And, Missus Stone, you ought not keep them books out in plain sight. You knows Massa don’t cotton none to wimmen reading.”

“Mind your tongue, Emma. Mr. Stone is a perfect gentlemen.”

Yeah, then why he hit you? Emma’s thoughts settled in her stomach like rocks.

Louise turned onto her side and curled up in a ball. Somehow that position made the pain go away. She’d been a bride such a short time and wasn’t ready to be a mother. She calculated the baby would arrive by early summer. She had not made friends with any women in the area, the days were wet and cold, and she didn’t know what winter would be like in this part of Kentucky. Besides, she missed her mother, and no matter what Robert said, she was afraid of Indians. Mama always knew how to plan, what to expect, what to do. What Louise did not know was how Robert would take the news.

“Aunt Emma?”

“What, chile?” Emma tucked loose strands of Louise’s blond hair behind her ear.

“Oh, nothing. I just… Oh nothing. I think I’ll sleep awhile.”

Emma pulled back the heavy curtains to close the window.

“No, keep the window open. I like the smell of fresh air. Hay, I guess. Smells sweet.”

“You jes sleep now. Annie gots some herbs what’ll take that sick feeling away. I’ll make you some soup fer supper.”

Closing the bedroom door softly, Emma wondered what the Massa would say about his bride being in the family way. Maybe if the Missus gave him a son he’d be happier. Emma stopped at the bottom of the stairs and wiped her hands on her apron. This big ole house sho do feel spooky and I sho’nuff don’t like using these here front stairs. Her whole cabin could sit in the middle of this entry hall. As the cook, Emma most often used the back stairs when she needed to see to Miz Louise.

Emma ran her hand across the wainscot then bent to look under the bench next to the front door.

“And just what do you think you are doing!”

Emma jerked up bumping into Robert Stone.

“I asked you a question! Aren’t you the cook? Are you trying to steal something? Why are you poking around up here in the front of the house?”

“I’s sorry, Massa. Jes checking to be sure them girls cleaning good.” Emma’s heart pounded in her ears and she trembled so hard she thought surely she would topple over.

“That’s James’ job,” Stone barked.

“Well, yeah’suh, but, but, Suh.. I..”

“You what?” The master’s voice bounced off the walls.

A sudden calm swept over Emma and she folded her hands under her apron and looked at her feet.“I jes wanted to tell you, Suh, I has fresh coffee ready. And a pumpkin pie just come outta the bake oven. Thought you and your pappy might like a afternoon refreshment.”

“Uh. Well, now. I see. Yes. We’ll have it out on the west porch where it is warm. But, mind your manners and don’t go meddling where it’s none of your concern. Do you understand me?” Robert Stone snapped his riding crop against his leg.

In the kitchen, Emma quickly arranged the tray then jangled the bell for James.

“You did right nice dealing wid Massa out there in the hall.” James grinned and picked up the tray. “Whee, lordy. This here pie sho do smell good.”

“If you behaves youself, there might be some left after Massa and Missus eats they supper. Now git outta my kitchen.”

Emma poked up the cook fire early to start some soup for Miz Stone. When the fire was going to her satisfaction, she went to the yard. “Hey, Annie! How you be today?”

“Jes ’bout the same. You need some of my chamomile for the Missus?”

“Is that the one what settles the stomach down?”

“Sho nuff do! I got some good ones over there.” Annie searched around the plant, choosing just the right leaves. “Here you go; some nice flowers still on the plant. Put ’em in a cup of tea ’fore she eats. She gonna need a strong brew in the mornings fer awhile.”

The two women looked at each other, gaining courage to face the next days.