Dec 16, 2013 6 min read

? Chapter Fifteen

THE STORY SO FAR: Jesse and Louisa come down with fever and ague, and the children lose their way after they leave the steamboat.

July 11-13, 1828. Near the Licking River, Kentucky.

“Jesse, help me. Please?” Moses begs.

Moses wants my help? Even though I ache all over, I sit up tall and look around. We’re in the middle of a village. “What can I do?”

He points to a sign swinging in the wind outside a long wooden building. “Can you read that?”

“It says ‘Broderick’s Tavern.’ Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” We stare at the tavern. Lantern light glows in the windows. “Papa talked about hills after the Blue Lick,” Moses says, “but it’s flat here.” He sighs. “I’ll get directions. I just hope no one asks about our folks.” He picks up his crutch and slides to the ground, then fixes his worried eyes on me. “Watch the little ones until I get back.” He hobbles to the tavern and disappears.

I sit on the wagon seat a long time, my teeth chattering as I try to stay awake. “Jesse!” Louisa’s voice is like a kitten mewling. “I’m thirsty!” I pour water from our jug. Her thin hands shake as she holds the cup, and she spills on her dress. We cuddle under the quilt. Rough laughter sounds from inside. Where’s Moses?

Somehow I slip to the ground. I clutch the wagon and walk around it until I realize I’m walking in circles. I try to crawl toward the tavern, but the ruts get higher and higher, until they’re like the hills Papa told us to cross. “Moses! I found the mountains.” No answer.

Next thing I know, it’s dawn and I’m lying in a ditch. A wagon rumbles past and someone cries, “Stop!” Strong arms scoop me up. I’m as light as a taffeta skirt. Maybe an angel is taking me to Mama and Papa.

But there’s something I have to remember. What is it? “Wait!” I cry. “Don’t leave them.” Why is no one listening?

I dream Mama is singing to me, and wake up in a four-poster bed, lying on feather pillows soft as clouds. A husky voice sings, “Wade in the water . . . God’s a-going to trouble the water.” I turn my head. I’m in a bright room with pink flowers stenciled on the wall and lacy curtains blowing at the windows. Beside me, on a small table, Papa’s ring sits on Mama’s diary.

I turn the other way and find Louisa asleep, her face as pale as the linen sheet that covers us. “Louisa, we’re in heaven. Mama is singing with the angels.”

“Ha! Ain’t no heaven here.” The singing stops and a young girl, her skin as dusky brown as the Ohio River, pops up at the end of the bed. “This is the Widow Hopkins’s place. She’s been taking care of y’all since my Uncle Roy found you in the road.”

I close my eyes. I remember a kind, dark face – but nothing more.

“I’ll tell Widow Hopkins you’re awake,” the girl says, heading for the door.

“Wait.” I sit up quick. “My brother is in the tavern.” I try to stand, but my legs buckle like twigs.

The girl rushes over, catching me before I hit the rug. “Where you going?” she scolds. “You cain’t walk yet. You nearly died of fever. You’re lucky the Widow Hopkins has that special medicine. Otherwise you and your sister be dead, for sure.”

“Moses never came back.” I struggle to get away, but her hands are strong, even though she’s small.

“Settle down,” she scolds, as if she were my older sister. “He’s in the parlor with the doctor. And didn’t he feel foolish, conked out under a tree! That brother of yours had some liquor in the tavern.”

“Moses was drinking? I’m glad my pa didn’t see that.” I smile. “What’s your name?”

“Emilia, but folks call me Emmy. I know you’re Jesse,” she adds. “Your little brother asks for you every second. Now get back in bed, where you belong.”

I do just what she says. Next time I wake up, Louisa is gone and Moses stumps in on matching crutches with a clean bandage on his foot. His hair is trimmed, and his old shirt is clean and patched. “Is that really you?” I ask.

“It’s me, don’t worry.” He stands near the open window. “Sorry I scared you at the tavern. They gave me cider spiked with apple brandy. I was sick as a dog.” He blushes.

“That’s all right.” I sit up carefully. “What did they do to your foot?”

“The doctor put a splint on it and brought me these new crutches. He says some bones are crushed. I need to rest it awhile – and I may always have a limp.” He looks away. “I won’t be much of a farmer now.”

“If only I’d kept Sadie from bolting.” Moses doesn’t answer. “They won’t bind us out, will they?” I ask.

“Hah!” Moses lets out a dry laugh. “They don’t need more servants here. Come see.”

I slip out of bed and grip the bedpost to steady myself. Moses pulls back the curtain to show me a pasture sprinkled with white sheep. Two bay horses canter across a paddock. “It’s beautiful,” I say. “Can we stay forever?”

“Don’t be foolish.” He points in the other direction. “Look.”

I hold onto his shoulder. A jumble of rough cabins surrounds a brick barn. Smoke trails from their chimneys. Beyond the cabins, black men and women bend over rows of cotton blooming in dark soil.

“Slaves,” I whisper. An icy chill slides down my spine. “Emmy’s a slave?”

Moses nods. “There are one hundred slaves here, all serving the Widow Hopkins. You still want to stay?”

“Of course not.” My eyes burn, holding back tears. “I didn’t know. I’m glad we didn’t bring George with us.”

Moses nods. “At least he’ll be free when he’s grown. Papa always told me slavery was evil, Jess, but I didn’t understand. Not until now.”

• NEXT WEEK: The Long Scar