My heart and my dreams broke at the same time. I sobbed loudly as I fell apart into countless pieces. The old woman wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She rocked me gently as I cried and cried and cried. Just as I thought the storm within me had ended, that motherly voice quietly whispered, “Hush now,” and I broke out in fresh sobs.
When finally the well of my tears ran dry, she sat me at the table, made me drink a mug of milk sweetened with honey, and gave me a clean rag to wipe my face with.
“You been too strong,” she said firmly. “I know about that. Strong starts out being the right thing. Your hands grow strong enough for your work. Your back strengthens under your burdens. Soon your mind becomes strongest of all; has to be to get through the hard days. You were mighty strong to come so far after our Ruth. That is a blessing indeed. But you haven’t cried like that in a long time, have you?”
I shook my head, feeling like a child.
“Don’t forget how to be gentle,” she warned. “Don’t let the hardness of the world steal the softness of your heart. The greatest strength of all is daring to love. Now, you remember I told you that.”
I took a sip of sweet milk. “Yes, ma’am, I shall. Thank you.”
She dipped a rag in the hot wash water and rubbed at the worktable. “Where do you go from here?”
“Home,” I said. “To Rhode Island.”
“Your kin there?”
I paused. “We just have each other. Our parents died a long time ago.”
“Then why go back?”
“It’s home.”
“You own a house there? A big farm, with chickens that Ruth can fuss over?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But I will. I’m smart, strong, and I work harder than most. I’m a fair hand when it comes to needlework, too. I can take care of her.”
Her gaze met mine, but I did not understand the expression on her weathered face. Outside Curzon’s axe fell regular as the pendulum on a windup clock.
“I can see that she has a home here,” I said quietly. “But she needs to come with me.”
Missus Serafina rinsed out the rag in the bucket. “I agree.”
“You do?”
“Course, I do. I wanted her to run off with the others, but she wouldn’t leave us.” She hung the rag from a peg on the wall. “Ruth is the most stubborn child ever walked, except maybe for you.”
“She acts like you are her family.”
“We are.” A tear escaped from the corner of her blind eye. “That means you are part of our family too.” She smiled. “That’s why I can tell you how you ought live your life.”
“She . . .” I paused to swallow the lump that kept bobbing up in my throat. “She told me to go away.”
“I’ll talk to her.” Missus Serafina rested her hand on mine. “Then we’ll assemble the things you’ll need.”
“Need for what?”
“You’re leaving as soon as dark falls. All three–”
Aberdeen flung himself through the door, dust covered and gasping.
“Horses!” he cried. “Prentiss is back!”
CHAPTER VIII
Tuesday, June 26, 1781
WELL, NOW COMES THE DAY OF TERROR.
–LETTER FROM ELIZA WILKINSON OF SOUTH CAROLINA DESCRIBING SOLDIERS INVADING HER HOME
HOW FAR?” MISSUS SERAFINA ASKED. “How many?”
“Two strangers and Prentiss,” Aberdeen panted. “Just turned down the lane.”
“Get them in the loft,” she said, hurrying to put away the clean mugs and bowls. “Ruth is already in the barn. Stay with them up there.”
“But he’ll ask–”
Missus Serafina crossed the floor quicker than I thought possible. She grabbed the front of Aberdeen’s shirt. “You and Ruth ran off days ago, that’s what I’ll tell him. Stay hid in the loft till we come for you.”
She stopped. The sound of pounding horse hooves drew closer. The old dog in the yard gave a loud woof! and loped toward the front of the house. Curzon appeared in the doorway, ready for trouble, the axe still in his hand.
“Follow me,” said Aberdeen.
We crossed from the summer kitchen to the barn so fast, our feet barely touched the ground. By the time my eyes had adjusted to the darkness inside the barn, Curzon was helping Aberdeen move a rickety ladder to the loft. Ruth rose with a puzzled look, holding a kitten in each hand.
“Deen?” she asked.
“Prentiss is come back early,” he explained, reaching his hand out to her. “He’s got men with him. Fina says we have to hide.”
Ruth set the kittens down and dashed up the ladder, disturbing the chickens that had been dozing up there. I followed close behind. She grabbed some empty gunnysacks at the edge of the hayloft and scurried to the far corner, where the hay was piled deep, clucking all the while to calm the birds.
Loud laughter came from the direction of the house. The dog began barking like his tail was on fire. I prayed the noise would cover our movements.
“Isabel!” Curzon hissed.
He and Aberdeen passed up pitchforks to me, then climbed the ladder and pulled it up behind them, setting it close to the wall. The four of us silently burrowed into the hay; I loosed my hatchet and held it ready in my hand.
We lay still as the dead–Curzon, Aberdeen, Ruth, and me.
Aberdeen placed a gunnysack against the wall in front of us so it covered the gaps between the boards and acted as a shield. The rest of us did the same, moving slow so as not to upset the chickens. Now we could peer through the loose weave of the cloth to the ground below. Anyone looking up at the barn would not see us. A large, slovenly white man dressed in muddy breeches came into the barnyard, followed by two British redcoats, who also seemed worse for wear. Their unsteady gait made them look as if they walked on the deck of a ship rolling on the waves.
“Ruth!” bellowed the man.
My sister started shaking. I turned, afraid she’d been seized by a fit.
“Ruth!” he repeated.
Though only twelve years old, Ruth resembled more a maid of sixteen.
“I wished ye coulda seen her, a fine lass, she is,” Prentiss slurred. “She was. Food for the gators now, I reckon. Damn that girl.”
His companions said words too faint for us to hear, and they all three laughed like fools. ’Twas not yet midday, yet they were already muddy in drink.
Prentiss had a notion to harm her, that was clear. ’Twas fear of that odious man that caused her to quake, not the falling sickness. I reached out my hand to her, thinking to pat her shoulder. She shied from my touch.
Missus Serafina hurried from the summer kitchen carrying a tray with sliced ham and pickles. The men gave a drunken huzzah at the sight of the food and followed her into the house. Shortly after the door closed behind them, Mister Walter appeared, leading three horses to the barn. I waited until he and the animals were inside, and started to rise, thinking to steal a few words with him. Ruth grabbed hold of my skirt and pulled me back down. She laid her hand on my lips, then pointed to tell me I should again lie flat and stay hidden.
“Oh, yes, what a day!” called Mister Walter loudly. “What a long day already for these fine horses.” The sound of buckles and leather straps indicated that he was removing the saddles. “Need to rest up and prepare for the next long journey, don’t you, my good friends?”
One of the horses snorted. Mister Walter gave a laugh that sounded hollow and false.
“No sense in fussing, you old thing,” he said, curious loud. “Any noise you make is gonna bring Mister Prentiss to investigate. That man deserves a good meal and as much rum as he can hold. So you horses, you just stay quiet and peaceful. Soon as Mister Prentiss and his companions are settled, I’ll see you fed and watered and ready for your next trip.”
Aberdeen raised his eyebrow a bit. Curzon and I both nodded to show we understood. Mister Walter’s message was meant for us.
We stayed silent and still long after Mister Walter went back to the hous
e. A chicken fluttered across the loft and settled in front of Ruth. She reached out and stroked the feathers on its throat until the creature closed its eyes.
Aberdeen and Curzon exchanged a few words, so low that I couldn’t hear them, though we were lined up right next to one another. Aberdeen then turned so he could whisper to me.
“He says you need to sleep.”
“Don’t need sleep,” I lied.
“You’ll be leaving soon as it’s dark enough. Gonna need sleep to move quick,” Aberdeen said. “Gonna need to run miles before sunrise.”
Curzon raised himself up enough that I could see him. The worried and determined expression on his face said more than any words could have. He was right; we needed rest. But I needed time to soften Ruth’s manner toward me, time to help her turn from being a tall stranger to being my little sister.
Even if we’d had the rare luxury of time, I had no idea how to make such a transformation possible.
CHAPTER IX
Wednesday, June 27, 1781
WE FIGHT, GET BEAT, RISE, AND FIGHT AGAIN.
–LETTER FROM PATRIOT MAJOR GENERAL NATHANAEL GREENE TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE
I was full dark when I awoke. I blinked, trying to recollect where I was and how I’d come to be there. The truth of the matter sprang upon my senses in a rush: We were hiding and in the gravest form of danger. I lay without moving; that was Ruth to my left, and beyond her the boy, Aberdeen, with Curzon on his other side.
I listened.
A few mice scurried through the hay at the far end of the loft. The roosting chickens above muttered in their sleep. Night insects whirred in the darkness outside, but no owls called, no wolves. Then I heard a door close. Footsteps approached the barn from the house.
Ruth gave a start, instantly awake. The boys were both tensed, hands clutching axe and pitchforks. I gripped my hatchet. We were prepared to fight our way out if we had to.
I heard a woman humming loudly, Missus Serafina making her slow way to the barn. The tune recollected a hymn we used to sing in Rhode Island.
Ruth’s face relaxed.
Missus Serafina hobbled past the barn as if making for the privy, then she stopped humming and came back, her feet almost silent in the dirt. She crept into the barn a moment later, stood still, then whispered to us to come down from the loft. The boys went down the ladder first. Ruth tucked a sleepy chicken into her skirt before she descended.
“Don’t,” I said.
She ignored me. By the time I reached the ground, she had taken a large basket from a hook on the wall and settled the chicken in it. Missus Serafina motioned for us to stay silent and follow her. We slipped out the back door of the barn one at a time and hurried past the summer kitchen. From there we dashed to the welcoming darkness of the woods, where Curzon and I had perched at dawn.
Once we’d reached the safety of the trees, Missus Serafina had to stop. She leaned her hand against a tree trunk, breathing heavy, like she’d been running miles instead of steps.
Ruth rushed to her side. “Are you poorly?” she whispered.
The old woman smiled weakly and patted Ruth’s cheek. “Just a little spell, nothing more. Don’t you worry about me.”
An owl called from the darkness. The wind blew the clouds away from the face of the moon and rustled the leaves above us.
“Walter’s coming,” Missus Serafina said quietly. “I have to go back to the house, Ruth. Don’t want that Prentiss coming out to look for you.”
“Don’t want him bothering me,” Ruth agreed.
Missus Serafina took my sister in her arms, held her tight, and whispered in her ear. When she pulled away, tears were rolling down the old woman’s cheeks.
“You are very poorly, Fina.” Ruth wiped away the tears with her sleeve. “I’ll walk with you.”
“No, sweet girl.” Missus Serafina straightened up. “I need you to walk with Walter.” She pointed to the form of her husband, standing in the shadows. “Swear to me, my dear Ruth. Swear by the name of our Lord that you will walk with Walter and Isabel and the boys. You have a long way to go.”
Ruth frowned. “Don’t want to. Ghosts in the dark.”
My sister did not grasp our true circumstances or intent. That was for the best. We needed to get her far away from Riverbend before we told her the truth.
“You must be brave for me,” Missus Serafina said. “Aberdeen will keep the ghosts away, you know he will. Swear that you will do everything Walter asks of you.”
I held my breath. If Ruth got stubborn now, all was lost.
“If you want me to, I swear,” Ruth said. “By the Lord.”
“Thank you, child. Now I’ll be able to sleep at night.” She looked at me. “May God bless you all and keep you from harm.” Her voice wavered. “You take good care of her.”
Before I could reply, Missus Serafina turned away from us and limped back to the house. I wanted to call after her to thank her, to pour out my gratitude at her feet. I owed her everything, for she had loved my sister as much as our mother had. But we had no time.
The owl hooted again.
“This way,” whispered Aberdeen.
* * *
Mister Walter led us along the river, pausing once so we could gather the supply-filled haversacks he’d hidden hours earlier. After we’d walked a long ways, we turned north onto a narrow path that led around the edge of a murky swamp. He didn’t stop walking until we were curtained on all sides by great sheets of hanging moss.
“Why are we here?” Ruth asked. “The cow needs milking soon, and I have to help Serafina.”
“I’ll take care of Fina, darling.” Walter pulled a cloth from his pocket, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked past Ruth at us. “I’m fair certain that Prentiss believed our story, that she’s already been gone for days. Deen, too. His mind is on the new people arriving tomorrow. Your real danger will be from the scoundrels and rogue militia units.”
He pointed. “Another mile or so, the path forks left. That’s what you want, Deen, head west a fortnight, then south. Stay well away from Savannah, and try not to fall out of any trees.”
“Where you going?” Ruth asked Aberdeen.
The boy busied himself with retying his sling instead of answering her.
“What about us?” I asked.
“Stay straight north, don’t turn west with Deen,” Mister Walter said.
“If you had the choice,” Curzon asked, “which direction would you go?”
“West and northwest to the mountains takes you to open territory, but plenty of settlers out there are as dangerous as the bears. Southward will get you to the Spanish lands eventually, but there’s terrible fevers along the way. If I were you, I’d travel north, plumb north. ’Tain’t perfect, but your chances are better. Keep to the edges of the swamps, they’ll thin out the farther away you get.”
“Gators in swamps,” Ruth said. “Don’t like them.”
“Me neither,” Curzon said. “But don’t worry, Isabel will kill any gators that bother us. Once we get to Rhode Island, we’ll find a cobbler who will make us gator-skin boots.”
“Rhode Island?”
“Rhode Island,” Curzon repeated. “That’s where we’re going.”
I felt a stab of frustration with Curzon’s rambling mouth. There was no need to tell Ruth our plans, that would just muddle her mind more and make it harder for her to leave.
Ruth’s mouth opened as the arrow of truth hit home. “You all running?”
“We are running,” Curzon corrected. “You and me and Isabel.”
“Not me,” Ruth said quickly. “I belong here, with Missus Serafina and Mister Walter.”
I pressed my lips tight together. Her reaction was exactly what I had feared.
“Not anymore, dear.” Mister Walter paused to clear his throat. “Isabel and Curzon are taking you home.”
“This is home,” Ruth insisted. “I’m your sweet girl, you both say that every morning. You need help polishing, and Missus
Serafina can’t see good. She has swoons. I help her.”
The strong sentiment in her voice moved us all to tears.
“You can’t stay,” I said gently. “You’re coming north with us. We’re going to live free in Rhode Island. You won’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“I’m not afraid.” The moonlight caught the stubborn set of Ruth’s chin and the temper flaring in her eyes. “You can’t make me run with you.”
We needed months to accustom her to the idea, time so she could work through the hows and the whys and be settled about it. But we only had time measured in a few heartbeats.
“You must,” I said firmly.
“Scolding her won’t help,” Curzon said.
“Sweet-talking won’t either.”
“Go away!” Ruth turned her back on me.
Mister Walter sighed deeply. The sound filled me with shame. I had said the wrong thing again, taken the wrong tone.
“What if I come with you?” Aberdeen asked Ruth.
“But you’re going–” I said.
“Hush, girl,” Mister Walter said to me. “Ruth.”
She turned around slowly.
“Will you run with them if Aberdeen goes too?” Mister Walter asked.
Ruth’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t want to leave you.”
“Isabel is right. You must go,” Mister Walter said fiercely. “If you stay, Prentiss will hurt you. Fina and me, we couldn’t bear that.”
Ruth covered her ears with her fists.
Mister Walter gently pulled her hands down and held them in his. “We talked about this before, remember? We don’t want you to leave, poppet, but you must. ’Tis the best thing for you. The best for you makes us happy and proud. I know you want to make us happy and proud, don’t you?”
Tears began to trickle from Ruth’s eyes.
“Mind your sister,” Mister Walter continued. “Mind the boys, too. Stay close to them.”