Whiskers In The Dark

16

September 26, 1787

Wednesday

“Thirty-two dollars and eleven cents.” Ralston closed his hand over the money.

“You couldn’t get more?” William turned up his nose.

“I didn’t have time to get into the big house, the other houses, or the weaving room. I know Bumbee has money in there but I needed to get out. Barker O was getting close. He beat me. He’s a smart man. He knew something wasn’t right.” Ralston looked around the woodshed a mile from the main house at Big Rawly.

Big Rawly comprised twelve hundred acres, nothing like Cloverfields, but the land proved rich, with abundant water, plus Maureen Selisse Holloway made her millions otherwise. She built on what she inherited plus what passed to her when her husband was murdered. Gossip had it that she was the richest woman in Virginia, perhaps in all the colonies.

This shed, tight enough for it was raining, rested on the edge of a hardwood forest. The men would cut timber, split it, and stack it to cure. Once cured, the wood would be moved up to the shed by the house, loaded on wagons, and pulled by two well-cared-for draft horses.

Ralston had followed the creek, hiding if he heard anyone on the bluff above. He had run off from Cloverfields in the night, making it to Big Rawly in the dark. Knowing where to find William, he reached the shed, saw the old tarp left for him on the ground, and fell asleep.

Staying out of sight proved easy for he was far away from cornfields, hayfields, buildings. A hard-running creek provided water. He’d taken bread from his mother’s larder but he would have liked something to go with it. William showed up once the sun set. The first thing he wanted to know was did Ralston get any money.

William sat on the tarp leaning up against the stacked wood, which smelled clean, good. “I know where some of the money is, in the stables. Silver in the house. No point taking anything heavy. Selling those bridles taught me that. We need what we can carry but you, well, you should have brought more. Why should I risk myself for thirty dollars?”

“You aren’t risking yourself, William. We’re both good hands with horses. If this girl takes you to the money, like you say she will, we’ll have enough to get clear of here, way clear of here, and hire ourselves out. Then we can make good money.”

“Lots of money in Philadelphia. Lots of people wanting to show off their driving horses, racing even.”

“Long way away.” Ralston shifted his weight, for the ground was hard even with the tarp. “I listened at Cloverfields. Listened to Barker O talk, some of the others. They say there’s no slavery in Vermont.”

“Well, why go that far? I said the money is in Philadelphia.”

“Is, but we have to pass as free men.”

“We say we are. There was a reward out for me. No one caught me. We can do it.”

Ralston asked. “Why’d you come back?”

“Sulli. I’m taking her with me.”

“You didn’t tell me that. She’ll slow us down.” A flash of anger crossed Ralston’s face.

“No she won’t, and she knows where the money is, where some of the jewelry is. We need her.” He took a long moment. “She belongs to me. You touch her, Ralston, and I’ll kill you.”

“Shit.” Ralston shrugged, the picture of noninterest.

This changed when Sulli, shawl over her head, snuck out to the woodshed, whistled low. William whistled back. She hurried into the shed, basket on her arm.

“Sulli, this is Ralston.”

She cast her light eyes on him, which shone even in the night light. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He put on his best behavior.

“Will, here’s food for both of you, two old sweaters. It will be colder tonight. I’ve got to run back. Elizabetta is cracking the whip because the Missus will be back in a week or more but soon. Elizabetta has sat on her fat ass for months. So now we all got to make up the time. Dust windowsills, wash every pane of glass. Would be easier to keep working, but that is one lazy woman.” She paused, a mischievous grin. “She’ll be easy to fool. Woman is dumb as a sack of hammers, which is why I think Miss Selisse uses her.” She glanced outside. “I’ll slip down tomorrow.” That said, she melted into the darkness.

William folded back the towel. Ralston wanted to grab whatever was in that basket but he waited.

The two sat side by side and ate.

“The Queen Bitch will be back and we’ll be out of here. The best time to ransack the house for money is during church. Sulli will beg off sick. She’ll show us where the house money is, in a box, she says. Shouldn’t be anyone in the house. We can bust it open and go.”

“But what if someone is in the house?” Ralston wanted a better plan than that.

“We give them some money and go.”

“Never work at Cloverfields.”

“This ain’t Cloverfields. Everyone on Big Rawly hates that woman. They’ll smile to her face, that’s for sure, but no one will turn on us unless we drag them into it. I don’t want no help other than Sulli.”

“Right.”

—

That same night at Cloverfields, Barker O walked to Bettina’s cabin, told her about the stolen money from the stable.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish, but I’m sorry it cost you.” The powerful woman sat opposite him as the rain pattered on the shake roof.

“He only got what I had rolled up in a saddle pad. Rest is in my cabin. Enough.”

“You’re a man who gets tips. All deserved.”

He smiled. “I try. I’m not telling the Master, not telling Miss Catherine about the money. Find him, bring him back, he’ll steal from us again.”

“Yes. I mentioned that to Miss Catherine because Mr. Ewing was furious. Wanted to put out signs, a reward. She talked him out of it. Miss Rachel, too. Said, ‘Father, let him steal from someone else.’ ”

“William, now he’s clever. Ralston, not exactly dumb as a post but close.” Barker O shook his head. “If they get caught, I don’t know.”

“Won’t be killed. Too young.”

“Well, Bettina, you’re right. They could work but even if separated, neither one is worth squat. I figure they’ll be sold to Miss Selisse’s birth territory, down there in the waters, and worked to death.”

“The Caribbean.” Bettina filled in the name he couldn’t remember.

“Damn fools.”

“They might get away with it.” Bettina heard a crack. “Thunder. I’ll be.”

Barker O looked out the little window. “They’re holed up somewhere.”

“What makes me fret is our young people. Running might look good to them. Where you run to is another matter, but the idea of being free…Oh, as Miss Catherine would say, ‘a siren’s song.’ But if they start slipping away we’ll all pay for it. Even Mr. Ewing has limits.”

He nodded, face serious. “Well, Bettina, that’s the thing, isn’t it? When you’re young you don’t think of anyone else.”

Indeed.