Рита Браун - Tall Tail

“Governor Holloway’s desegregation stand was so long ago. He’s changed.” Harry threw up her hands.

“Harry, there is no event too distant or absurd that can’t be used to stir people up,” said Ned. “What if those of Italian descent, you know, some young politician on the make, declares Al Capone was framed because of anti-Italian feeling? He was the victim of a government vendetta.”

“Didn’t they nail him on income-tax evasion?” Susan asked.

“He was too smart to be caught for his crimes, so they sicced the IRS on him,” Ned explained.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.” BoomBoom couldn’t resist the nearly three-thousand-year-old quote.

Thursday, September 23, 1784

The night, cool in the low fifties, ensured neither John nor Charles would fall asleep as they waited for Moses to emerge from the woods. The unpainted steeple was nestled deep in straw, tied tightly to wagon sides so it wouldn’t slide. Inside, a cushion would allow Moses to sit comfortably. A jar of water and some biscuits and jam had been wrapped in a kitchen towel by Bettina. An old woolen shirt, socks, sturdy shoes, and a worn but presentable pair of breeches also had been neatly piled on the floor, as well as a black tricorn hat with black grosgrain ribbon where the crown met the brim.

Catherine thought Moses would need a hat when they felt safe enough for him to ride up with John and Charles, if that moment occurred. He had also been encouraged to grow a beard, which he was doing. By the time they reached York, his beard would be full.

Finally, Father Gabe, on one side of Moses, Catherine on the other, led the young man to his new hiding place. Not completely healed, his wound caused some pain. John stepped down and he and Father Gabe gave Moses a leg up.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, the slave opened the door as he was instructed, bent over, slipped inside, and closed the door, latching it from the inside. Charles, prudently, placed a small latch on the outside, too.

John kissed Catherine, then swung up onto the cart, picked up the reins, and clucked, and the draft horse pair, Castor and Pollux, walked away. Piglet sat next to Charles.

Catherine and Father Gabe watched. He returned to the cave, where Bettina sat with a distraught Ailee. Catherine returned to her home but couldn’t sleep for thinking of the flow of tears from Ailee’s blind eye when she and Moses had to bid each other goodbye.

—

Dawn greeted John, Charles, and Moses, although Moses couldn’t see it. They were now eight miles north of Charlottesville. Piglet awakened when the wagon stopped.

Trotting in the opposite direction came Dennis McComb.

Charles put his hand on John’s holding the reins.

“Good morning, Constable,” Charles flattered Dennis, as he was not a full constable.

Dennis stopped. “A fine morning. A steeple. And what might you two be doing with a steeple?”

Charles smiled. “You may have heard that I am designing St. Luke’s Lutheran Church, which will be west of Mr. Garth’s properties at Wayland’s Crossing.”

“I had heard that.” Dennis enjoying letting them know he heard much in his official capacity.

Charles smiled sheepishly. “Well, now, Mr. McComb, something tells me you’re not a Lutheran.”

John sat there wondering what Charles was doing, but he remained impassive, as he was not the quick thinker that Charles was. His social graces, improved by his former captive, served him well, but with Charles such flourishes were effortless.

Serious of mien, Dennis uttered, “Presbyterian.”

“A worthy sect, to be sure. Well, not being acquainted with Lutheran churches in the New World, I thought I’d best take this steeple to a former comrade-in-arms who knows Lutheranism well. He and his associates can make any corrections they see fit, for, as you know”—Charles lowered his voice conspiratorially—“one can make a misstep in such a delicate matter as ecclesiastical architecture. Don’t want to smack of Rome.”

“No, sir,” Dennis replied with vigor.

“And might I ask what you are doing north of town at such an hour? No trouble, I hope? After all, the good citizens should allow you your rest.”

Dennis smiled. “No trouble. I have been searching high and low for the murderous slave. Someone thought they saw a slave running in the night. Nighttime would be when he would move.”

“I would have thought he’d be long and far away by now,” Charles evenly replied.

“Too much clamor, sir. He or they would have never made it, no matter what direction they traveled in. They have to be here. It’s a matter of time, and then, of course, they will move, and I intend to catch them. Murder is no small affair.”

Charles’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, of course. I would never have thought of them sitting tight, Mr. McComb, but then you are a constable and I am not.”

Pleased, Dennis promised, “I will find them.”

“If anyone can, you can,” Charles complimented him.

“I will be on my way. Good day to you, sirs.”

“And good day to you, Constable.” Charles patted Piglet, now awake. John, reins loose, clucked to the matched pair of Percherons.

Once out of earshot, John remarked, “He’s smarter than I thought.”

“He’s ambitious. Hiram Meisner is slack and Dennis McComb burns to succeed him. He won’t shy away from whatever needs to be done. I’ve often thought that those who represent the law are as brutal as those who break it.”

Further along, Charles called back, “Moses, all is well.”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply.

“Tap if you need anything, as we discussed,” Charles reminded him.

“I will.”

They rode along, then John said, “You study people. McComb. I hadn’t thought of his wanting to rise.”

“I was in the British Army, remember?”

At this, they both laughed.

—

Later that day, work with their father finished, the sisters walked down to Bettina’s cabin. The children looked up as the two dazzling beauties came among them. They were a bit afraid of such powerful people.

Tulli sat next to Bettina on her front porch, peppers, thyme, basil, and other herbs all hanging from the porch rafters.

Bettina placed her hand on the boy’s head, for she loved him as if he were her own. “Tulli, go on, now.”

“Before you go, Tulli. I saw where you cleaned Sweet Potato’s tack. Might you ride out with Jeddie and me tomorrow? We want to check the two bridges at the back of the farm and you could hold our horses. You would be a big help.”

“Yes, Miss Catherine. Yes.” He was thrilled to ride with the two best riders on the Garth estate and beyond.

Catherine gathered her light skirt to sit next to Bettina on her long bench. “If you’re tired, Serena can make a stew. She’s learned so much from you. Go to bed early.”

“I believe that girl will grieve herself to death,” Bettina half whispered.

Rachel sat on the other side of Bettina. “People do die of broken hearts.”

“Yes, honey baby.” Bettina reached for Rachel’s hand. “Yes, they do.”

“Ailee’s not going to die,” Catherine declared. “She’ll live for the baby.”

“If she lives,” said Rachel, of practical mind, “she has to remain hidden, have a healthy baby, and live, and then what? Her face will give her away even if we managed to get her to Massachusetts or down to South Carolina. She will always be in danger as long as Maureen Selisse lives.”