Legacies (19 page)

Releasing a troubled sigh, Lije stepped back and nodded to Deu to relax his hold on the horse. "It looks worse today than yesterday. Maybe if we put a poultice on it."

"If my boy Ike were here, he'd have Jubal running around on all four legs in no time," Deu said. "He always did have a healing touch when it came to horses."

Lije offered a
distracted nod of agreement, then turned, catching the familiar clatter of shuffling hooves, rubbing leather, and jingling chains that signaled the return of a patrol from across the Arkansas. It was a Texas troop, led by a man on a zebra dun, gold lieutenant's bars sewn on his gray jacket. There was something familiar about him. Lije studied him a moment, then smiled inwardly when he recognized the drover who had shared a campfire with him on the eve of the war.

"Lassiter, isn't it?" he hailed the man. "Ransom Lassiter from the Rocking Lazy L."

The Texan reined in and frowned, then smiled crookedly and leaned forward to rest his arms on the front of his saddle, a weariness lining his features. "Lije Stuart, what I wouldn't give for a taste of that coffee you had." The lazy drawl was the same, but that familiar glint of humor was gone from his gray eyes. The war and the fighting had done that, Lije realized. It had taken away the laughter and the softness, made it a memory they reached for now and again. All of them. And after only one short year of fighting.

"Wouldn't we all," Lije agreed.

"What happened?" Rans nodded at the drooping bay.

"Gunshot. Nothing vital was hit. I dug the ball out two days ago, but he's still going down."

"Good-looking horse," Rans said, his glance traveling over the bay. "He's got some thoroughbred in him, doesn't he?"

"He does," Lije confirmed.

"We're going to need horses like that one," he said, then looked again at Lije. "One of my boys used to live with the Comanche. Nobody knows more about horses than the Comanche. If you want, he can take a look at yours, see if there's anything he could do for it."

"I'd be obliged."

Rans turned in the saddle and shouted down the line, "Kelly!"

"Sir!" A private in Confederate gray reined his horse out of the column and cantered forward. He had a boy's build and youthful features, and the beard stubble of a grown man on his cheeks.

"See what you can do for the lieutenant's horse," Rans ordered. The private threw him a half salute and walked his horse closer to the bay, then dismounted. Lije moved aside to let him examine the horse's shoulder wound. "Looks like your horse wasn't the only one shot." Rans glanced pointedly at the bandage tied high on Lije's left arm.

"Just a crease." Lije shrugged it off, the action setting up sharp twinges. He ignored them, just as he ignored the dull throb that took their place.

"It's a good thing nobody is going to be asking you to raise your arms in surrender anytime soon," Rans observed, his mouth twitching in a near smile as he straightened in the saddle. "Both Yankee Indian brigades have pulled out. Your chief, John Ross, went with them, along with his entire family and most of his valuables."

"Ross is gone?" Lije frowned in surprise.

Rans nodded. "Headed for Kansas. Word is that he took the government records and documents with him, and all of the funds."

"For safekeeping, no doubt," Lije guessed, aware this news would upset many—most of all his commanding officer, Colonel Stand Watie.

"No doubt." Rans lifted the dun's reins. "I'd better go make my report. Send Kelly on to camp when he's through." He started to signal the patrol forward, then checked the movement. "You know what else I heard?"

"What?"

"The Union army in Kansas is recruiting coloreds. Sounds to me like the North is getting desperate."

 

Piano music drifted softly into the library. The lazy melody matched the August breeze that wandered through the open French doors and caused the candle flame to sway ever so slightly. Shadrach turned the page of Rollin's
Ancient History
and changed the tilt of the book to allow more light to fall on the printed words.

A whisper of movement came from outside the open doors. He paused to listen, but it didn't come again. The Negro dismissed it as the rustling of the evening breeze. He read another sentence, then heard it again—the sound, very light, very careful, a suggestion of stealth in it. Someone was out there. And it wasn't Master Will or Eliza.

Slowly and quietly, Shadrach closed the book and inched it down alongside him, pushing it between the arm of the chair and the seat cushion. He didn't know who was out there, but he didn't want some rebel to catch him looking at a book. There had been reprisals against Union sympathizers, now that the Union troops had withdrawn from the area. It was well known that Will Gordon was a staunch supporter of Ross. Add to that the fact his son and grandson had joined the Union army, and the Gordons were a prime target. Shadrach sensed there was trouble ahead, worse than in Georgia.

It could be it was outside this very minute.

"Psst. Uncle Shad," a voice whispered from the darkness.

Frowning, Shadrach rose from the chair and walked to the doors. He could see nothing but a sliver of moonlight filtering through the trees into the formal gardens.

"Ike?" he called back softly. "Is that you?"

"Yeah. I gotta talk to you."

Shadrach glanced at the library doors that stood open to the hall. From beyond them came the hiring strains of a waltz on the piano. "Stay there." He gestured to his unseen nephew, then walked quietly to the doors and pulled them together, leaving a small gap so he could hear Eliza if she summoned him.

He went back to the French doors and motioned for Ike to come inside. A dark figure stole from behind a bush and darted through the opening, crouching low. The minute he entered the library, Ike stepped sideways so he couldn't be seen from outside, a furtiveness in his every action and look.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm leaving for Kansas." Ike spoke low and quick. "They're recruiting coloreds into the Union army up there, and I'm going to join. I can't stay around here waiting for them to come free us. I have got to go fight . . . and help it come about. I wanted to tell Ma what I was doing, but . . . she wouldn't understand. She would no more think of leaving the Stuarts than she'd think of shaving all the hair off-her head. She acts like they're family. She's your sister. I thought . . . maybe you could explain to her where I'm going and why."

"Are you sure they're taking coloreds into the army?" Shadrach was skeptical.

"I'm sure. They're trying to raise a whole regiment. They're gonna give us guns, teach us how to shoot, and everything. They're even going to give us uniforms just like regular white soldiers."

"Where in Kansas?"

"Leavenworth. I figure if I travel at night and hide in the daytime, I can make it without being caught. I don't know how long it will take, but—" He stopped and eyed Shadrach warily. "Why?"

"Because I'm going with you." When had he decided that? Shadrach was as stunned as Ike to hear the words come out of his mouth. The idea was crazy. It was mad. They probably wouldn't make it, but . . . by God, he was going to try.

"Are you sure? I mean . . ." Ike stammered in confusion and surprise.

Shadrach suddenly noticed Eliza wasn't playing the piano anymore. He held up his hand to silence Ike and cocked his head toward the doors. He could hear two sets of footsteps. "Wait outside." He lowered his voice to a whisper, then moved swiftly to the doors. He stepped into the hall, partially closing the doors behind him as Eliza and Will walked arm in arm toward the staircase.

"Miss Eliza."

Both paused and turned. "Shadrach, I didn't realize you were still here," Eliza declared. "We won't be needing you anymore tonight. You—"

"Please. May I have a word with you, Miss Eliza?"

"Of course." She hesitated, then turned to Will. "I'll be along directly."

Smiling, Will nodded and continued to the stairs while she walked down the hall to join Shadrach. Reaching him, Eliza paused and glanced after her husband, watching as he negotiated the steps, moving slowly and stiffly.

"His rheumatism is acting up again," she murmured in concern. "I can't seem to convince him that he needs to take things slower at his age. Will doesn't like to be reminded he's getting older." When he disappeared from view, Eliza turned to face Shadrach, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. That stance, the crisp authority in her voice—she was the schoolteacher again, addressing one of her pupils. For a brief moment Shadrach felt the pull of nostalgia as memories of those few short months he'd spent in her classroom as a boy grew strong within him.

"There are many things I've wanted to say for a long time, Miss Eliza. But, first of all, I want to thank you for giving me the greatest gift a person can receive . . . an education. I know the risk you ran teaching a slave—"

"I have never thought of you as a slave, Shadrach," Eliza cut in. "I have always looked on you as a friend."

"I know you have. And I'm grateful for that. You always treated me like I had a mind and feelings and dreams. Not many have done that, except . . . maybe Reverend Cole."

"Just what is this all about, Shadrach?"

"It's about me . . . and my dreams. You've always been special to me, Miss Eliza. You opened up a whole new world to me. Maybe it isn't good to teach a slave, because he gets dissatisfied with his life. It starts him to thinking that he is as good as anybody else. He starts wanting things."

She drew back slightly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying . . . that I'm leaving. Running away never made any sense to me before. But now, I'm running to something. They are recruiting colored soldiers in Kansas, and that's where I'm going—to join up."

"You can't." Shock, dread, fear, confusion—so many things went through her head that Eliza wasn't sure what her reaction was.

Shadrach smiled a little sadly. "After all you have done for me, I couldn't leave without telling you goodbye. It wouldn't have been right somehow. I would appreciate it if you would explain things to Master Will. He's been good to me, and I wouldn't want him to think that it was anything against him."

"When . . . when are you leaving?"

"We're going tonight."

"We?"

Shadrach hesitated. "I'm going with Ike." "Don't you know how dangerous it will be?" Eliza protested.
 

"Yes."

At that moment Eliza knew there was nothing she could say to dissuade him. Oddly enough, she didn't want to. It was crazy, but she felt proud of him. Shadrach was as much of a friend to her as the social barriers between a white woman and a black man would allow.

"You and Ike will need a pass." She walked briskly into the library. "Try to avoid the patrols if you can. I am not certain how much they will respect a pass . . . especially now." Hurriedly, she scratched one out, then folded the paper and handed it to him, for an instant letting their fingers touch. "Be careful, Shadrach."

"I will. Tell Phoebe I will look after Ike."

Eliza nodded. "You were the very best pupil I ever had. I will miss you greatly." When her eyes filled with tears, she felt self-conscious, then noticed that his, too, were moist. Suddenly it was all right.

"I will miss you, too, Miss Eliza. If the good Lord is willing, maybe someday you can come visit the school I'm going to have . . . when we're all free."

"I would like that."

Then Shadrach was gone, slipping out through the French doors. Eliza walked over to them. There, in the patch of moonlight, she could see two figures moving quickly toward the Negro quarters. It struck her as ironic that the first time Shadrach had come into her life, he had been outside a window. Now, the last time she saw him, he was outside a door— a door she had opened for him.

 

 

 

12

 

 

Two weeks and not a word. Eliza wondered if Shadrach had made it to Kansas. She tried to convince herself that he and Ike were all right. Otherwise, she would have heard something. To her relief Will had agreed to say nothing about Shadrach's absence. She had feared Will would want to post a notice that his slave had run away and offer a reward for his return. She should have known Will would understand.
 

"It's a beautiful day."

Eliza glanced at her husband. There was a look of contentment on his tired and drawn features. She was glad he had agreed to her suggestion that they sit in the garden after dinner, instead of returning directly to the fields. Here, amidst the deep shade of the trees, the south breeze blew strongly, giving an illusion of coolness to the sweltering heat of midday.

"It is hot." Eliza held the collar of her dress away from her neck, trying to give the air a chance to reach more of her skin.

"It's beautiful and hot," Will conceded, then breathed in deeply. "Can you smell the scent of peaches in the air? They should be ready to pick soon. I must check the orchard later this afternoon."

"You are supposed to be relaxing, not thinking about work," she chided.

"Oh? And what were you thinking about so seriously a moment ago? I saw that worried little frown." Behind the teasing light in his eyes, there was a desire for an answer to his question.

"Susannah." For the life of her, Eliza didn't know why she mentioned their daughter instead of Shadrach, although Susannah had been on her mind a great deal of late. "It has been a long time since we heard from her. I try not to worry. I know she is safer in the East. I only hope we have convinced her to remain there until this war ends. But you know how headstrong she can be at times."

"Just like her mother."

"Will," she said in quick protest.

"It's true." Smiling, Will reached across the iron bench and took her hand, linking their fingers together. "You are an unbelievably headstrong woman, Eliza. You always have been. I remember the time you absolutely refused to leave Gordon Glen . . . and the trail you didn't have to walk, but you did. I remember the teacher who always tried to pretend she was prim and proper. Then I would catch her wading in the creek with the children—no shoes, no stockings, and her skirts up. You haven't changed, Eliza."