Furmidable Foes

23

December 26, 1787

Wednesday

Snow swirled around the bunkhouse. All of Royal Oak appeared filled with white wind devils. Men walked with their heads down, whether going into the wind or with it at their backs.

Ard stamped his feet in front of the bunkhouse and opened the door. “You’re sitting up.”

“Yes, sir,” Ralston answered, although he sat listing to port so no weight would press on the tine wounds. “Feel some better.”

“Nice by the fire. Thought I’d look in on you.”

“Thank you. Miss Frances brought me hot biscuits and another blanket.”

“Cold seeps through the cracks in the wall, under window frames.” He exhaled. “Hard season. Always is.” Pulling up a stool, he sat next to Ralston. “Need to give you the news. Maybe you know something I don’t.”

Ralston looked at him. “Can’t imagine knowing anything you don’t.”

“Well, William and Sulli are missing. A few embers in their fireplace, but they’ve been gone maybe half a day, maybe more. You and William butted heads. Was he the one who smashed you up and stuck the pitchfork in your back?”

“He was.”

“Did it have something to do with Sulli?”

Ralston took a deep breath, thought a moment. “William beat her. He treated her like dirt and he didn’t want anyone else to be good to her. As for me, he never liked me.”

“Then why were you traveling with him?” Ard held up his hand. “You’re escaped slaves. No one around here is stupid, but no one cares. If you tell me you’re freemen, that’s good enough for me. What Mr. Finney cares about is a good day’s work and an honest man, one who won’t steal from him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So why were you traveling with those two if you didn’t like William?”

“He planned our escape and he and Sulli had some money from the plantation where they lived. I had a little bit, but not much. He said he knew how to get out of Virginia. I didn’t, so I listened to him and then we put what we had together and we left.”

“You reached Arch Newbold.”

“Sir?”

“Arch Newbold. The ferryman. You headed west instead of to the Atlantic.”

“We figured most people would head for the ships, you know. We’d go away from them. Sleeping on hard ground, ducking into any building we could find. Once we got on this side of the river, we believed we could make it.”

“Maryland’s not a free state. Only two really are and even in Philadelphia, if you bring your slave with you, he is still your slave.”

“Yes, sir, but if we could find work, work hard, we figured we’d be as free as we ever had been. You gave us a job. You didn’t ask questions so I thought you wouldn’t sell us back, know?”

Ard inhaled the aroma of the burning hardwood. “Mr. Finney doesn’t believe in slavery. He says the Irish are worse than slaves to the English. He wouldn’t do that to another man. And no one came looking for you. We saw no leaflets about runaway slaves.”

“Would you have sold us back?”

Ard shook his head. “No. As I said, Mr. Finney is against slavery and Mr. Finney is a rich man. Made every penny of it himself. He doesn’t need reward money.”

“But other people might.”

“Would you have sold William?”

“What?”

“If you knew the headhunters wanted him, would you have sold him out?”

“I hated his guts, Mr. Elgin, but I wouldn’t do that. What I would do is kill him for what he does to Sulli. I’ll find him and I’ll kill him.” Ralston addressed Ard by his last name.

“If you find him, he’ll be back where he started. The bounty hunters caught both of them, I’m pretty certain.”

Tears slid down Ralston’s face. “Not Sulli. Maureen will torture her. That’s the woman who owned her. Cruel. She has so much money, she can do what she wants to pretty much anyone. Even white people. If she wants to get even, she can. Oh, my poor Sulli.” He dropped his face in his hands.

Ard put his hand on Ralston’s heaving shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Lifting his tear-stained face, Ralston asked, “How did it happen?”

“I reckon it was the two men who bought Dipsy’s coach. They knew the lay of the land. They’d seen both William and Sulli, and you.” He stretched out his feet toward the fire. “In Virginia now. If you were on their list, they didn’t know you were here.”

“I come from a different place.” Ralston straightened up even though it stung. “I don’t know if they wanted me back or not. I didn’t, oh, I didn’t fit in. Not with my people or anybody.”

“I see.” Ard stood up.

Looking up at him, Ralston promised, “I can go back to work tomorrow.”

“If Miss Frances says you can, fine. You’re young. You’ll heal quickly.”

Ard left, but he wasn’t sure if Ralston’s inside wounds would heal quickly. It was obvious Ralston was in love with Sulli.

—

Reaching Leesburg, Martin and Shank looked for any kind of lodging with a decent stable.

Sulli and William, propped up against the back of the wagon, leaning under the backrest, felt the cold. One blanket wrapped each of them; the straw was piled up around them to hide the bindings but also for warmth. Both of their heads shone white with snow, now falling faster as sundown approached. Long, slanting rays turned the main street houses golden.

An inn appeared. Martin pulled up while Shank dashed inside. Maybe five minutes later he reemerged, smiling.

“Room in the back for the horse and cart. I paid in advance. There’s pallets there, some old horse blankets. I also rented a room inside. Figured we could take turns as we go sleeping in the barns with our catch. So I’ll take the first night, then the next night it’s yours.”

“Fine.” Martin hopped out of the seat, grabbing the bridle to lead the horse inside the well-organized stable.

A few other horses stood in stalls.

The two men helped Sulli and William down. Shank watched them as Martin unhitched the mare, wiped her down, and threw a heavy rug over her, leading her into a stall with hay and water.

“Let’s check the pallets.” Shank walked to the end of the wide stable aisle. “You’d think they’d put the tack room or a heat stove in the middle. Ah.” He opened a door at the end of the aisle.

“Ah, what?”

“There’s a little stove. Maybe it is better on the end. Safer. I’ll fire it up.” A neatly stacked woodpile rested outside the room, which was fourteen by fourteen.

It took him a while to get a spark, but finally he did and the straw under the wood caught. The innkeeper had thoughtfully stacked kindling as well as hardwood. The room would warm up in no time.

“Bring them in here,” Shank advised.

Martin, behind them, flintlock in hand, glanced around to see if anything could be used as a weapon against him or Shank. “How many pallets?”

“Six. Grooms must sleep in here all the time. Who can afford a room for a groom? Washbasin over there. We’ll get by.”

“I’ll bring you all some food.” He looked for beams or anything sturdy so they could tie Sulli and William. “We could tie their feet on this center beam. Keep their hands tied. Untie them in the morning so they can eat.

“That ought to work. Untie them tonight for dinner. You two pick your pallet,” Shank ordered.

Both, chilled to the bone, selected packed straw pallets halfway to the stove. They couldn’t be far from the center beam, but the room was already warming. Sulli stopped shaking.

“If you two sit down and behave, I won’t tie you to the beam until after you eat.”

“Yes, sir.” William spoke.

Sulli kept quiet, sinking onto the pallet, raising her tied hands toward the heat.

The horses’ munching sounded soothing. The odor of cleaned leather tack also added to what little pleasure there was.

Twenty minutes later, Martin appeared, carrying two baskets. He placed them in front of Shank. Four bottles of ale, cold, nestled in the corner of one basket. The other contained cold ham sliced, bowls of potatoes. That was all there was but it was nourishment.

Shank had untied Sulli and William’s hands. Their sore wrists and stiff fingers made for clumsy eating and drinking, but they managed. Martin leaned against an old trunk.

“I say five or six days. What do you think?”

“Depends on the weather. If snow piles up, we’ll need to stay here for a while.”

“I sure hope not.” Martin liked the warmth pouring out of the little cast-iron stove.

“Are there any people here?”

“No. Just two.”

“Where are they going?” Shank asked.

“Don’t know. They’re well dressed.” He sighed, feeling drowsy. “Cold sucks the life right out of you, don’t it?”

“Yeah. My mother used to say one cold day could steal a year’s warmth from your body. Well, let’s secure these two. I’ll see you in the morning. We can decide what to do then.”

“Right.” Shank pushed himself off, using his hands. He walked over to William first, tied his hands together, then tied one foot to the center beam. He repeated the procedure for Sulli. “Is that too tight?”

“A little,” she demurred.

“I’ll loosen it.” He did while William glared, eyes searching the square space.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Shank nodded as Martin left, closing the door behind him as well as the doors at the end of the aisle to help keep some heat in. The horses threw off heat.

“If you lie down, I’ll pull a horse blanket over you. You’ll fall asleep in no time,” Shank instructed the two.

Old blankets were neatly piled on another trunk, a few holes in them, but they felt good after the nasty cold day in the back of the cart.

Then Shank settled down after putting two heavy logs in the fire. He used a blanket for a pillow and draped a heavy one over him. All three fell asleep in minutes.

Shank, flintlock under his pillow, despite his exhaustion, woke up from time to time throughout the night. A light sleeper by nature, he would check the prisoners.

William rolled over, his hands in front of him, eyes open.

Shank pulled his flintlock out, pointing it toward William, whom he could clearly see in the glow from the slats in the little woodstove. “One move, one false move, and I’ll shoot you but I won’t kill you. You aren’t worth nothing dead. So you can live in pain or you can accept that you’ve got no way out.”

William stared at him, then turned the other way.

Shank was half hoping he could shoot him. He, too, fell back asleep.