Author: Elizabeth Grayson
Category: Western
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/elizabeth-grayson/page,13,76810-a_place_called_home.html
"—and you ask them to join up with us! They could be telling you anything, Ma. How do you know you can trust them?"
"I don't."
"They could kill us in our sleep!"
Livi shrugged. "Seems to me they'd have done that if they intended to."
Tad shook his head, and she knew he was wondering why she was doing this. Livi glanced toward Eustice and Violet and made peace with her decision.
I want them with us because I'm exhausted and afraid. Because I can't face the wilderness by myself anymore. Because if we're going to reach Kentucky without David, I need help. And because it could just as well have been us lying dead back there at Four Mile Creek.
"But we've been managing, Ma!" Tad argued. "We don't need them traveling with us."
"Well, I like them!" Cissy piped up. "Violet's little like me, and she has spunk."
"You've got spunk, too, Sugar," Livi acknowledged before she went on. "It makes sense to join together, Tad. Sense for them and sense for us."
"Ma'am." Eustace was standing by the head of the tent. "Ma'am?"
Livi turned to face him. "What have you and Violet decided?"
"We'd sure 'nough like to take you up on your offer. We'd like to stay on if your husband says it's all right."
"Oh, hell!" Tad muttered under his breath.
"My husband's dead, Eustace," Livi said, ignoring her son. "If you're going to stay, you'll answer to me."
Eustace nodded. "I promise you, ma'am, you won't be sorry you took us on. We's both hard workers. Violet cooks a fine meal when she got proper fixin's, and I'm a fair hand with horses."
"This isn't a fancy rig, as you can see," Livi answered, "But we'll be glad to have your help. I'm Olivia Talbot, and these are my children, Tad and Cissy."
"We's pleased to be travelin' with you, Miz Talbot."
On the far side of the fire, Violet sketched a curtsy. It was a token of respect that must not sit easily on a woman like her. That Violet should offer it up now—and to a pioneer woman who worked every bit as hard as she—said much about the couple's gratitude.
Livi responded with an inclination of her head and, taking a blanket from one of the creels, she offered it to Eustace. "We'd all better get some sleep. We've many miles to go tomorrow."
Curled in her blankets once more, Livi lay listening. Cissy's breathing had already gone soft and deep. Tad shifted in his bedroll, angry and restless. Out by the fire she could hear the grainy murmur of voices and the rustle of people settling in.
With a sigh, Livi eased down the hammer of the pistol and nestled the weapon against her chest. It was a comfortable enough pose, one she'd grown used to in these past weeks. Still, it was almost dawn when she closed her eyes.
* * *
Livi reviewed the passage in David's journal that dealt with crossing the Rockcastle River, then looked out from her perch on one of the boulders along the bank to make sure she knew just where the shallows were. For a mostly unlettered man, David had left remarkably complete directions for everything from picking their way through the canebrakes to ferreting out mountain passes. But Livi cherished the book for far more than its accuracy. David's scrawled, uneven hand and unconventional spelling underlined the labor it must have taken for him to complete the journal. It was an act of love, simple and pure. Having the journal made Livi feel as if David were with them still, watching over them, guiding them to Kentucky by way of the grimy, much-thumbed pages.
Livi curled her fingers around the tiny volume and blinked away unwelcome tears. She missed her husband with a deep, persistent ache that seemed to intensify the nearer they got to his land. It was a constant struggle to keep her emotions in check, but Livi refused to give way. Not when she barely had the privacy to heed the call of nature. Not with Violet and Eustace looking on. And certainly not in front of her children. She'd mourn David at her own time, in her own way.
From behind her, she heard Eustace call her name. "Here's some tea and hoecakes, Miz Talbot, ma'am."
"I told Violet not to light a fire," Livi grumbled, taking the offering.
"She thought you might be needin' a bite to settle you," he said.
It hadn't taken Violet Mae Hadley five minutes to surmise that Livi was pregnant, and the woman had hounded her unmercifully ever since. She all but poured milk down Livi's throat, gave her the largest portion at dinner, and made sure she got her rest. Building a fire in the middle of the day so Livi could have tea was just another example of Violet's infuriating disobedience.
Livi sipped and nodded begrudging thanks. The tea was exactly what she needed. How had Violet known?
Turning her face to the sun, Livi reflected that they'd made good time these past three days. They'd come from just this side of Big Flat Lick through swamp and canebrakes, past Raccoon Spring and Hazel Patch. These were landmarks David had talked about, written about. Landmarks that brought her that much closer to David's claim.
Livi surprised herself by being both eager and reluctant to arrive. There were so many dreams and so much resentment tied up in that single plot of ground that she couldn't imagine how it would feel to climb the rise where David said he'd build their house or walk those wide, cleared fields all by herself. Could the land possibly be worth all the grief and discord it had caused?
Livi was just finishing her tea when she heard the clatter of approaching riders. They'd encountered so few people on the trail that Livi wasn't sure if she should wave in welcome or meet them with her pistol drawn.
Two men came into view at the opposite end of the ford. Livi's uneasiness grew as they navigated the crossing. They were unshaven, roughly dressed, and looked like they were moving fast.
She scrambled down from the boulder and headed for where her children and the Hadleys were clustered on the bank above the ford. She had one hand wrapped around the stock of her gun when the men splashed out of the river.
"I think you'll fin' it an easy crossin'," the heavier man greeted her, drawing his horse up a few feet from where Livi stood. "Your man about?"
It didn't seem wise to offer up the information that they had no man to protect them. "He's off hunting just now," she told the stranger. "If you've something to say, sir, you can say it to me."
The two men exchanged glances before the first one went on. "I'm Slay Grover and this here's John Bean. We're slave catchers from Virginie, checkin' the ownership of all the niggers we fin' on the Kentucky Road."
"It's amazin'," Bean put in, "how many runaways are headin' west. An' how many folks is willin' to help 'em."
"Really?" Livi answered coolly, though her pulse had begun to dance. "Well, you needn't worry about my people. Violet and Eustace have been with me for years."
At the periphery of her vision, she saw Tad curl his fingers around his sister's arm.
"An' just how long is that, Mistress..."
"Talbot, Olivia Talbot. Since just after I was married thirteen years ago. David bought Eustace and Violet for me as a wedding gift."
David hadn't had two pennies to rub together then, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that Livi knew slave catchers to be hard and vicious men. What mattered was that even if the story about their owners being killed by the Indians was true, the Hadleys had no way to prove it. And if they'd lied...
"Violet helped deliver Tad," Livi went on. "She was the first person to hold Cissy after she was born. Even before her papa did."
"Such fine, strong young'uns," Violet added with quiet pride.
"I don't know what I'd have done without her." The longer they played this game, the more likely it was that one of them would reveal too much. Nor did Grover or Bean seem overly impressed with the theatrics.
"I suppose their papers are in with our things," Livi offered. It was a bluff, one she hoped would forestall any further questions.
"It just so happens, Mistress Talbot," Grover drawled, "that we'd purely like to see them papers."
Livi tried not to blanch. "I don't know where they are exactly, s
o it might take a while to find them." She'd claimed Violet and Eustace as her slaves, and now she had to find some way to make these men believe her—papers or not.
"We can wait," Grover assured her and swung down from his horse.
"Well, then," she offered brightly, "perhaps Violet can make a pot of coffee while I look through our things."
John Bean's voice followed her as she turned away. "You do know, don't you, Mistress Talbot, that harborin' 'scaped slaves is agin the law?"
Livi suppressed the shiver that slid the length of her back. She'd known a couple in Lynchburg who'd run afoul of the law for helping slaves escape and been run out of town. There was no way of knowing how such matters were settled here. It was certain, though, that no matter what they did to her, far worse things would befall Eustace and Violet. They would be beaten, chained, and force-marched back to Virginia at the very least.
While the men waited, everyone played his or her part. Cissy helped Violet make the coffee. Tad and Eustace lowered the creels to the ground. Livi pawed through the baskets.
By the time Bean and Grover had finished their coffee and every last one of the hoecakes, Livi was quivering inside. There were no ownership papers for her to find. What she had come across in one of the creels was the oilcloth packet that contained all of David's important papers. His militia discharge and their land grant were inside, along with their marriage compact, the children's baptismal certificates, and several other things. She thumbed through the documents, wondering what papers that attested to a Negro's ownership looked like. Had she ever seen copies in her father's house?
If only she could steal off by herself, she might be able to fabricate—
"You find them papers yet, Mistress Talbot?" Slay Grover inquired, one eyebrow tilted speculatively. "I'm beginnin' to think you was funnin' us when you said these folks belonged to you."
Livi's time was running out. She shuffled through the packet one more time and withdrew two sheets from inside. "Eustace's and Violet's papers are right here," she said, trying to still the tremor in her voice.
Grover set aside his empty mug and took the papers in hand.
"I had some trouble learning my letters," Livi admitted, lowering her eyes. "That's why it took so long to figure out which ones they were."
He answered with a grunt and scanned first one document, then the other. Each had "Bill of Sale" across the top and bore an official-looking seal in the lower corner.
"You want to take a look at these, Bean?" he asked, impaling Livi with a narrow-eyed stare. It took every ounce of her gumption not to flinch.
Bean sauntered over and took a look. "Never saw slave papers with all them gewgaws on 'em before."
Livi's pulse fluttered in her throat. Her ears rang like a church bell calling the faithful to Sunday services. "Well, Mr. Grover," she declared in spite of it, "those are the only papers the broker gave my husband."
The two men conferred again.
If they made her wait much longer, Livi was going to faint.
Finally Grover raised his head. "Well, Mistress Talbot, these here bills of sale do seem to be all you claim."
"Of course they are." Livi took back the papers with a little huff, as if she'd never had any question about their authenticity.
All of them watched the slave catchers fetch their horses.
"You take care on that ford, Mistress Talbot," Grover warned, swinging into his saddle. "And keep them papers handy. There's others who'll want a look at 'em."
"Oh, I will, Mr. Grover," Livi answered. "Have care on the trail."
Bean and Grover were hardly out of sight when Eustace doused the fire and Violet began repacking the creels. No one spoke as they readied themselves for the trail. No one asked about the papers, but when Livi withdrew the oilcloth packet from the canvas bag slung over her shoulder to tuck them away, Tad silently held out his hand.
He took several minutes looking them over, laboring with the complicated legal phrases. Finally he glanced up, giving his mother a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
"Is this really what you gave them?"
Livi nodded. "The bill of sale for the house and the one for your father's blacksmith shop."
Tad shook his head, and his grin broadened. "By damn," he said as he mounted up, "it sure is a handy thing knowing how to read!"
* * *
"We need to take precautions so that nothing like this happens again," Livi insisted as she huddled over the campfire with Eustace and Violet Mae. The children had long since been sent to bed, though she would bet Tad was lying awake listening.
"But what you told the slave catchers worked," Eustace argued. "They believed the papers you showed them."
"They wouldn't have believed them if either of those men had been able to read," Livi insisted. "What I need to do is write up something that says you and Violet belong to me."
Eustace's face hardened. "Papers that say you own us."
"Well, yes," Livi answered. "But I'd only write them to protect—"
"I don' want no papers like that made!" Eustace jerked to his feet. "I don' ever want to be owned again!"
Livi sensed the depth of his resistance, his agitation, and his fear. Raised in Williamsburg and then at Chesterton Oaks, she had grown up with Negro servants in the house and in the fields. They were part of the background of her life—silent, efficient, obedient. She'd never considered how they might feel about their servitude.
It made her wonder what it was like to be bought and sold, to labor and have nothing to show for it. To live and die by another's will. Intolerable, she thought. Unbearable for anyone with intelligence, ability, or pride.
In spite of her newfound sympathy for Eustace's concerns, Livi knew it was essential to have papers that attested to her ownership of the Hadleys in case they were questioned again.
"Eustace," she offered gently, "the papers wouldn't be real."
"What would keep them from bein' real?"
"Well, they won't be stamped the way bills of sale are, and all the signatures will be forged..."
"But we free now, Miz Talbot!" he exclaimed. "We been free since the day Marse Wagner died, and I won't have you writing up papers sayin' we slaves again!"
Livi recognized the fire in Eustace's eyes. It was the fierce expression of a man who, for the first time in his life, belonged only to himself.
Or so he thought.
"Well, no," Livi answered, thinking back to what had transpired when one of their neighbors in Lynchburg died. "You're not exactly free. What you are is part of Mr. Wagner's estate."
Violet, who had been watching the exchange through slitted eyes, removed the stem of the clay pipe from between her teeth. "What's estate?"
"In this case," Livi explained, "it means the things that belonged to someone who's dead. Things that are passed on to his kin or sold to pay his debts."
Eustace dropped down beside Violet like a quail shot in mid-flight.
"You mean we ain't free?" The natural huskiness of Violet's voice deepened. "Marse Wagner owns us even beyond the grave?"
"In a way. I suppose the thing to do," Livi went on, thinking aloud, "is to make out papers saying I bought you from Mr. Wagner several weeks ago..."
"Then we don't belong to him, we belong to you," Eustace pointed out miserably.
"Well, not if I write manumission papers, too." When she saw their puzzled expressions, she went on. "I could write papers saying that you were my slaves, and that I am granting you freedom."
"I heard tales of that," Eustace allowed. "Manumission, you call it?"
"Or emancipation."
"Emancipation." Violet tried out the word in her mouth. "I like the sound of that."
"Well, then," Livi began, "I'll make you a proposition. I need help clearing and planting and building a cabin when we reach my husband's land. If you agree to let me write ownership papers now, if you stay until the cabin's built and the crops are in, I'll write manumission papers for both of you."
Eustace fixed her with a narrowed gaze. "You mean, if we help you get set up on your husband's place, you'll give us papers sayin' we free."
"That's right."
"And how long will settin' up take?"
"The fields are cleared. We'll need a house, and a barn for the animals." She hoped there wouldn't be more to do than that. "It should take two months. Maybe three."
Livi gave Eustace and Violet a moment to mull that over.
"Or," she continued, "you can stay for a year and work for free. If you do that, I'll give you the emancipation papers and twenty acres of land to do with as you please."
Livi had been considering the proposition for several days, ever since Eustace and Violet had wandered into camp and she'd realized how much they could help her.
Across the fire, she watched the Hadleys' faces. They were marked with confusion and suspicion, though she sensed that each of them wanted to believe in what she was offering.
"Why you doin' this?" Eustace finally asked.
Livi shrugged. "Because I'm a woman alone trying to make a life for my children. The land in Kentucky is all I have. I can't build a home on it or tend the fields or clear more ground by myself. I'm offering you a share of what I have in exchange for your help."
There was nothing so potent as the truth.
The slaves looked at each other, and Livi could see the effect those simple words had on both of them. Violet's mouth softened. Eustace's shoulders dropped.
"Do I get to pick the land?" he bargained, still looking for tricks.
"From any land I don't already have cleared and under cultivation at the end of a year. From any that doesn't block my access to water."
"And can we have a place of our own in the meantime?"
"As soon as we can get it built."
Without so much as a word or a glance passing between Violet and him, Eustace nodded.
"In order for any of this to work," Livi said, hating the restriction and knowing it was necessary, "I need to forge a bill of sale for you and Violet. And I need to do it tonight."
Eustace stirred, restless and reticent again.
"She needs that paper to protect her babies," Violet put in. "What woulda happened to her and her young'uns if those slave catchers hadn't gone away?"