The Loom (33 page)

A loud thud pulled them apart.

Jackson and Rex jogged to the bottom of the stairs and found their friend bucking wildly in the dirt, his neck snapped and twisted.

The sun gleamed down on Whitfield’s narrow face, warping his smile, as he dragged Lydia away. John ran toward his bride, but laughing men in plaid coats grabbed him and held him down.

He woke up swinging.

The tight space jarred him alert. Still in a cage. He saw sunlight breaking through the corners of the tarp and heard life on the outside. And breathing.

Someone tugged, then grabbed the edge of the tarp and yanked the cover back.

John held his breath.

“Charles?”

“Shhh!” His friend pushed his head down and draped the tarp back in place. “Someone’s coming.”

Through a corner, John could make out they were in a field. He could no longer see Charles. Just a coach and a plump woman with springy red curls under a large flowered hat approached. She had been crying, her quivering lips stained as brightly as her hair.

Her driver walked over to Charles, but before he opened his mouth, the woman behind him spoke.

“You seen a Henry Drake in these parts? He’s a smart-looking fellow, a little stout. Always chewing. Ain’t never without his tobacco.”

“No, ma’am.”

The woman patted her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief balled in her palm. Bits of white cotton lint clung to her lashes.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Charles nodded at her and then spoke to her driver. “I’ll be on the lookout.”

“Will you, now?” She sniffled. “I appreciate it.”

The lady bowed her head, and her hat tipped forward. Wiggling it straight, she followed her driver to the carriage and rode off.

After several rocky minutes of riding, Charles pulled the tarp off and hustled John into the storehouse.

“We need a safer place. I think it would be easy for someone asking questions to find you here. You all right?”

“I—yeah, I’m fine. I just didn’t expect to see you.” John huddled in a corner and blew into his hands. He reached for the strip of blanket he carried with him. He dug in and out of his front and back pockets, pulling them inside out into tiny ghosts at his side. It was gone.

Charles looked over at him. “Looking for something?”

“Must have fallen out somewhere.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to tell you, last night when you grabbed me, I thought it was over.”“I spotted you a few times through the thicket. You’re fast, but you ain’t much match for a wagon. I knew I needed to grab you before someone else did. You thought it was over?” Charles laughed, his grin stretching the width of his face. “I’m sure you did.”

But it was far from that. John smiled. Far from over.

Jackson and Rex knelt under the porch over the dead body.

“What did you do?” Rex quivered.

“You mean, what did we do.”

“Nooo, no, I don’t mean that at all.” The knot in Rex’s thin throat bobbed up and down. “No, you did this. You alone.”

“You’re crazy!”

“If you would’ve just gotten us the girl… I can’t believe this! We would’ve been gone. And Henry wouldn’t be…” He slumped over, heaving until vomit covered his worn boots and spittle dangled from his bottom lip. “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do, Jack? Our friend’s dead! Our friend—”

“Would you lower your voice!” Jackson whispered harshly. This was not happening.

“You’re not even sad, are you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not even sad!”

“Shut up! Shut your mouth. I feel as bad as you do.” He just needed to think. There was a dead man on his property, and as much as he wanted to run, somebody had to figure out something. “We’ve got to get him out of here.”

“You don’t care, do you?” Rex stared at him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t care about nobody but yourself.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious. We were just your hired help. That’s all we were to you.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“We were never your friends.”

“If you don’t shut your mouth—” Jackson jerked him by the collar. He needed to get ahold of himself. He loosened his grip.

“I’m sorry.”

Rex was whimpering, sucking his bottom lip in and out like a mindless child. Pitiful! He had enough to deal with.

“Look, you go on. I’ll take care of this.”

“What does that mean? What are you gonna do with him? Should I go to Mae?”

“No! No…I need to think. Maybe.” After all, it was an accident. But would she believe him? Would she care? Either way, her husband was dead. “Let me handle this, Rex. Go on now. Go home. I’ll handle this.”

Back inside, he questioned whether or not to go to the sheriff, but then thought better of it. Too much probing. With all the liquor he had been purchasing, it would be foolish to draw attention. He would deal with it himself.

Hide the body.

He knew where to look. Annie had given Caroline all sorts of blankets when she arrived.

“Caroline?” She was asleep. He searched in the armoire for a covering and raced back down the steps, the wind stinging his face. It was the first time he felt the cold since the accident. Odd how that was.

Rex was still there, pacing, whimpering. “What are you going to do with him? Where did you get that?”

“What?”

“The blanket?”

What difference did it make? “It’s Caroline’s.”

He looked at it now in his hands. Why had he grabbed the brightest blanket ever made? This was ridiculous! “Just help me, will you?”“What are you going to do? You’re going to wrap him in that?” Rex fell against his chest. Jackson gave his back a quick pat.

“Listen. You just go on home.” He would get nothing done with him around. “Take care of yourself.”

Rex just stared at his half-covered friend.

“Go on now. Take care of yourself. How’s your stomach?”

“It’s hurting more. It’s really hurting,” he sobbed, pulling up his shirt. The wound oozed yellow.

“Go on home. You’re going to be fine.”

“What about Henry?”

“I’ll take care of him.”

Slowly, Rex staggered away, turning back again and again to the man sprawled on the ground.

“Don’t worry, Rex. You’ll be all right. And I’m going to talk to Caroline.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“When?”

“Soon. Don’t worry.”

“Promise?”

What did he have to do, cross his heart? “Yeah, I promise.”

Jackson stood at the riverbank.

Guilt washed over him as he tossed his friend into the shallow water and watched him rise to the surface, bobbing under circles and diamonds. The blanket! He needed it in case someone linked it back to him. He waded through the murky water. It was freezing. He stroked midway and yanked the cover off the body. Henry was faceup, his eyes stretched wide like he was looking, staring at him. Jackson scrambled back, falling into the water. What had he done?

He scurried from the bank back home, whipping through tree limbs and leaves, swatting through branches and the image of Henry in his mind. He threw the soaked blanket on a heap of hay outside his barn and set it on fire, blazing the night sky up in smoke.

When he shut the front door, he didn’t know how he had made it home. In the foyer, he started to peel off his wet clothing when he heard a soft patter, a woman, Annie or Caroline, coming down the hallway.

“Jackson?”

How would he explain…?

His shoes and one sock were as far as he got when Caroline’s silhouette appeared several feet from him. If he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see him, he hoped.

“What are you doing up? Go back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep. Your boys got me all worked up.”

“Don’t worry about them.”

She stepped closer. “Were you outside?”

“No.”

“I heard the door.”

“It was me. I was looking out. I thought I heard something.”

She moved closer.

“Go back to bed.”

“Jackson?”

He moved deeper into the shadows, hoping she wouldn’t notice what a mess he was. He jumped when she touched his hand.

“You’re freezing!”

“I—”

“Jackson! What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face. Your face is all scratched up.”

He smudged his cheek. He must’ve scraped himself against the branches.

“Are you bleeding?” She gazed over him. “Are you wet?”

“I—”

“Jackson…” She searched his eyes. “Jackson, what happened to you?”

What happened to him was that boy. Somebody always ended up dead because of them. Coloreds were a looming shadow of death. He swore, if it weren’t for them, everything would be fine, just as it had been. The thought of Henry, Timothy, buckled his knees. “Oh, Caroline…” He fell into the arms of one half his size and allowed her to hold him up.

So, you haven’t seen him either?” Mae craned her neck and peered past Jackson to the left, to the right, into the foyer, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s awful cold out here this morning. Mind if I come in? Maybe I could rest awhile before getting back on the road.”

“Weather’s suppose to turn ugly, Mae.” Jackson frowned up at the sky, grateful for the hints of gray in the distance. “Probably best for you to head on back. Last thing you need is to get caught up in it. But if I see him, I’ll be sure to send him right over. After a swift kick in the rump for scaring you like that.” He forced a smile. “But I’m sure he’ll be home tonight. Might be there now.”

“Is Caroline here? It’d be rude of me not to speak.” She pushed him aside and plowed through. “Caroline?”

Jackson gritted his teeth, slammed the door behind him, and followed Mae into the parlor.

The women pecked cheeks and sat back on the sofa.

“Look at you! As beautiful as ever,” Mae said, crossing her legs. Her shoe dangled off her foot, inches above the floor. “How ever do you keep such color in the winter?”

Jackson rolled his eyes but noted Caroline’s sudden unease. He stood above the two with his arms crossed until Caroline raised a crinkled brow.

“Is there something you need?” she asked.

She was becoming too familiar, much too bold in her regard, teetering on a disrespect he wasn’t about to tolerate. Not in his house, under his roof. He’d handle it as soon as the nosey one staring at them went her way.