Ransom of Love (24 page)

A quiet peace stole over Mose’s heart. He heard footsteps behind
him and turned around to see Finn Colvin approaching.

“Don’t cry for Jecholia, Mose. He’s dead because he disobeyed his overseer, and he disobeyed Edward.”

The burden in Mose’s heart for Colvin freed his tongue. “Master Finn, you heard me tell in the message that Jecholia was a born-again child of God. And because of that, he is now in heaven.”

“Yeah. I heard it.”

“You also heard me warn everyone who was gathered around the grave that one day it will be their time to die. And if they aren’t saved, they will never see Jecholia again. They will be in hell.”

Finn did not reply.

“Master Finn, I have a heavy burden in my heart for you. I want you to be born again so you will go to heaven when you die. I can show you right here in my Bible how to call on Jesus, and—”

“A
W
, save your breath, Mose! I’m not afraid to die. I don’t need Jesus Christ, and I don’t want to hear any more about it, do you understand?”

“But, Master Finn, you—”

“I said I don’t want to hear any more about it! Ever! Have you got that?”

Mose looked at him through a fresh wall of tears.

“Ever!” Finn said and stomped away, muttering to himself.

Ol’ Mose thumbed away tears as he watched him go, then set his sad eyes on the mound of dirt where Jecholia’s body had been buried.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, M
ARTHA
C
OLVIN
opened the back porch door and looked into the solemn face of her oldest slave.

“Good morning, Mose,” she said. “Are you feeling all right?”

Pressing a smile on his lips, he said, “I’m fine, Miz Martha. Where do you want me to work today?”

“In the flower bed on the left side of the front of the house. I’ll show you what I want done.” Martha led the old man down the porch steps. “Mose, you’ve got me wondering …”

The stoop-shouldered old slave looked at her from the tops of his eyes. “About what, ma’am?”

“You have that look again.”

“What do you mean, ma’am?”

“You have the same look on your face and in your eyes that you had after the dream about George. Have you had another dream?”

Mose avoided her penetrating gaze. “I’m sorry I have that look on me, ma’am. Please don’t let it worry you. Now, what was it you wanted done here?”

Martha’s gaze grew more intense. “Mose, I asked you a question. Have you had another dream?”

He swallowed with difficulty and looked at the ground. “Yes’m.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“What was it?”

“Miz Martha, I really should get to work here. I see some weeds, and I have my weed tool in the cabinet on the back porch.”

“Mose!”

“Yes’m?”

“What did you dream?”

“You really shouldn’t bother yourself about it, ma’am.”

“Mose, did you dream that someone else died?”

Mose nodded. “Yes’m.”

“Who died in your dream?”

Mose kept his gaze on the ground.

“Tell me!”

Tears coursed down the network of wrinkles on his cheeks. There was anguish in his voice as he said, “The richest man in the county.”

For a timeless moment, Martha’s heart seemed to stop beating and there was nothing but silence. She studied the old man’s weathered face and worked at freeing her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Mose’s dream about George and its horrible fulfillment lanced through her like a dagger.

“Mose, you couldn’t have dreamed a thing like that! Tell me it isn’t so!”

“I’m sorry, Miz Martha. That is what I dreamed last night. I … I didn’t want to tell you. I knew it would upset you.”

Martha put a trembling hand to her mouth. “T-tell me exactly what you dreamed.”

“Well, I didn’t see any faces, but in the dream I heard a voice say that the richest man in Charleston County was goin’ to die before midnight tonight.”

Martha’s features paled. “Tonight?”

“Yes’m.”

“Oh, dear!” Her breath came in short spurts. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”

“Please don’t be afraid, Miz Martha. Remember, I tol’ you I don’t believe in dreams as some kind of message from God. He speaks through His Bible, and—”

“I know what you said, Mose, but you had that dream about George, and it happened exactly like you dreamed it!”

“I know. But please don’t worry about it.”

Martha’s entire body was quaking. “I … I have to tell my husband!”

As she spoke, she lifted her skirts ankle-high and ran around the front corner of the mansion and toward the barns. She knew Finn was with some of the slaves, getting them ready to put a fresh coat of paint on barn number three.

A tiny squeak came from her throat when she saw her husband standing with his back to her, holding a paint brush as he talked to six male slaves. Two overseers were with him.

As she drew near, one of the slaves pointed toward her, saying something to Finn.

He looked at her over his shoulder then frowned as he saw the look on her face.

“Finn! Oh, Finn! I need to talk to you right now! Alone.”

The look in her eyes was enough. Finn spoke to the overseers, telling them to proceed with the paint job, then ushered Martha to a spot out of earshot from anyone else and gripped her shoulders.

“What on earth has happened, Martha?”

“Ol’ Mose just told me he had another one of his vivid dreams!”

“You mean about somebody dying?”

“Yes. Like that.”

“Was it about someone else in our family?”

“Yes.”

“Well, tell me! What was the dream?”

“Mose … Mose said he heard a voice in his dream say that the richest man in Charleston County was going to die before midnight tonight.”

A feeling like icy water drained into his stomach.

“He … he just walked in and told you this, right out of the blue?”

“No,” Martha said, shaking her head. “When he came into the house to start his day’s work, I saw that same look on his face as when he dreamed about George’s death. When I asked him about it, he tried to avoid telling me, but I made him come out with it.”

Finn’s expression was grim. “I want to talk to Mose. I want to hear this for myself. Come on.”

When they rounded the corner of the house, the old man was bent over in the flower garden, digging up weeds with a hand tool. He turned and looked at the approaching pair, then straightened up as much as he was able.

“Mose,” Finn said, “I want to hear every detail of this wild dream you had last night.”

“There really wasn’t much to it, Master Finn. I saw no faces or figures. I was simply standin’ out in one of the cotton fields, and a voice came to me and said that the richest man in Charleston County would die before midnight tonight.”

“Well, that means before midnight last night.”

“No, sir. I had the dream ’bout four o’clock this mornin’. Daylight was comin’ when the dream woke me up.”

When Mose saw the fear in Colvin’s eyes, he said, “Master Finn, I know you tol’ me never to bring up ’bout bein’ saved, but I care ’bout you. The Bible says, ‘it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.’ Every human bein’ has an appointment with death, and no one knows when their appointment is set except God Himself. He is the one who set the appointment. People need to face the fact, Master Finn, that their appointment could be today when they awaken and rise from their bed. Or when they pillow their head at night. They must repent and believe the gospel before it is too late.”

Finn stared at the old man. Without another word, he turned and dashed up the porch steps and into the house, leaving the door wide open.

Wringing her hands, Martha said. “Mose, I see you’re digging out weeds here. Go ahead. I need to be with my husband.”

When Martha reached the vestibule, there was no sign of Finn. She heard a door slam down the hall and figured he had gone to his den.

Hastening that direction, she found the door closed when she
reached it. Without knocking, she stepped inside to find her husband pacing the floor in front of the fireplace, his features pinched and pallid.

Martha rushed to Finn and took hold of his hands. “Darling, listen,” she said, “just because Mose’s other dream came true doesn’t mean this one will.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Martha? Me or yourself?”

“Well, both of us. Maybe it won’t happen.”

Terror coursed through Finn and he squeezed Martha’s hands until she winced with pain. “Martha, I wouldn’t be so scared if his dream about George hadn’t happened to the letter. Does that old man have some kind of supermental powers?”

“I don’t know … he claims not. Come, dear, sit down in your chair. I’ll send one of the overseers to get Dr. Bosworth. He can come and give you a sedative to settle your nerves.”

Finn shook his head. “That isn’t necessary. I don’t want anyone to know about this. Not in town and not on this plantation. Mose won’t tell anyone else, will he?”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Martha said. “It wouldn’t be like him to do that.”

“Anyway, Dr. Bosworth couldn’t help me.”

“But if he was here—”

“No, Martha. Can you imagine what Dr. Bosworth would think of us if we called him out here and told him we wanted him to stay until midnight to keep me alive … because of some old slave’s dream? He’d think we had lost our minds. We have to face this thing alone.”

“When you say alone, you are including Edward, aren’t you? He’s our son. He has to know.”

“Of course. But no one else. Not the house slaves. Nobody.”

As he spoke, Finn went to his favorite overstuffed chair and sat down. Martha pulled up a straight-backed wooden chair and sat down facing him.

Edward Colvin climbed from his buggy at the back porch and entered the house. There was no one in the kitchen. Figuring to find his father in the library, he went there but it was unoccupied.

The door to the den was closed. He paused, for he could hear his mother’s voice, and she was talking rapidly.

He tapped on the door and called, “Mom … Pa … can I come in? I need to talk to Pa.”

There were light footsteps, then the door opened. Edward saw the distraught look on his mother’s face and noted his father sitting in his overstuffed chair, his face buried in his hands. “Mom, what’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”

“Come in, son,” Martha said, stepping back to allow his entrance.

Edward moved toward his father, running his gaze between his parents. “What is it?” he asked.

“Mose had another dream, Edward,” Martha said.

“S-someone else is going to die? Wh-who—”

“Me!” cut in Finn.

“Oh, no, Pa! This can’t be! What did Mose dream?”

When he heard, Edward fell to his knees in front of Finn, crying out that it must not happen. Martha knelt beside him and leaned toward Finn to embrace him.

Ol’ Mose finished weeding the flower garden and entered the mansion by the front door. As he shuffled down the hall, he saw Edward coming from the kitchen, carrying a cup of water. Edward gave him a hard look. “Why did you have to tell your dream to my mother?”

“Edward!” Martha called from the doorway. “Don’t talk about it out here. One of the house slaves might hear you! Come into the den. You, too, Mose.”

When Edward closed the door, Martha said, “I heard what you said to Mose, son. He didn’t want to tell me the dream. I saw in his
eyes that something was bothering him and made him tell me.”

Edward glanced at the silver-haired old Negro. “Okay, Mose. I’m sorry. This whole thing has me very upset.”

“I can understand that, Mr. Edward. But it is possible this dream won’t come true.”

“Your dream about George came true. Why shouldn’t this one?”

Mose had no reply. He looked at Martha. “I finished the weedin’, ma’am. What else did you want done at the flower garden?”

“I … I need to show you. Later. You can go on back to your cabin. If I need you later, I’ll send for you.”

As Mose closed the door behind him, Edward handed his father a cup of water.

Finn gulped it, spilling much of it on his hands and clothing.

The Colvins stayed in the den through lunchtime and Martha found Mandy in the middle of the afternoon to tell her not to prepare supper.

Finn was numb with fear, and though Martha and Edward were doing all they could to encourage him, the same fear gripped them.

As the sun was setting, there was a knock at the door. Edward opened it to find Ol’ Mose standing there with a Bible in his hand.

“Mr. Edward, could I please talk to Master Finn?”

Edward turned and said, “Pa, Mose wants to talk to you. He’s got his Bible with him.”

Finn leaned close to Martha and whispered, “The old fanatic just wants to preach to me again. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Tell Mose that your father is not up to talking to him,” Martha said.

When night fell, there was another knock at the door. Edward opened it to find Mandy standing there with a worried look on her face.

“Mr. Edward,” she said, trying to see past him into the room, “if’n you an’ Massa Finn and Miss Martha are feelin’ hungry, I will be glad to fix somethin’ light. Soup or somethin’ like that.”