Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] (41 page)

Josiah poured himself another cup of coffee and refilled each of their cups. She had learned some about cooking in the past weeks, but after she’d made several attempts at coffee—and failed—Daniel volunteered to keep that responsibility. Josiah had seconded his offer far too quickly.

“Was you there, Miz Westbrook? When Mr. Lincoln gave them words?”

She nodded, blowing across her cup. “It was many years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“I got times like that in my life too. Where I can still see the faces and hear what’s bein’ said. Good as if I’s standing right there in it again.

It was a fine talk by Mr. Lincoln, ma’am, and you give it well.”

“Yes, ma’am, you did.” From across the fire, Daniel lifted his cup to her.

She returned the gesture, hopeful.

“You two been real kind to me.” Josiah’s hand dwarfed the tin cup. “Miz Westbrook, you give me a job when most wouldn’t. And Mr. Ranslett, sir, you got me to help when I’s beaten and then stayed by me when I’s sick.” He reached for something beside him. “There been days in my life when I thought God himself had turned His face cuz there was too much pain to abide, even for Him. And then others when I know that as sure as the sun’ll rise He’s with me.” He fingered the leather pouch. “Mr. Ranslett, you told us the other night that you held your little brother and saw the light dim in his eyes. . . .”

Daniel’s expression was hard to read.

“I know your meanin’, sir, but with all respects, I put to you that the light only dimmed from our side. You couldn’t see it, but it was there, in the distance, shinin’ for Benjamin. It rose inside him that day, full and rich, and he’s livin’ in it now, just like—” He stopped, his forehead bunched. “Just like my sweet wife, Belle.”

36

B
elle and I married on a Tuesday in March. Last time I seen her was on a Saturday mornin’ in December.”

Daniel watched Josiah through the fire. He’d suspected something like this, and had discussed the possibility with Elizabeth, but had prayed he was wrong. Intuition told him something else was coming and that it wasn’t good. From the concern in Elizabeth’s demeanor, she sensed it too.

“I told you the other night, Mr. Ranslett, that I ain’t never lived in Franklin. I answered that way to spare your feelin’s at the time, sir.”

“So you did live there.”

“Not in Franklin, sir, but close. In Nashville. Mr. Stattam, man who owned me and Belle, he showed up one evenin’ in December as I’s walkin’ back to the shanties. He loaded me and five others in a wagon and took us off. Didn’t say nothin’ ’bout where we’s goin’, and we had kerchiefs tied round our eyes so we couldn’t see. Turns out, we’s taken to another plantation he owned, couple hours away. I tried gettin’ back to Belle once, and almost made it to Nashville when Mr. Stattam’s dogs catched up with me.” Hand on his thigh, he rubbed the side of his leg. “After the war, I went to look for Belle. That’s when I learnt that Mr. Stattam, he sold her to a man in Franklin not long after he moved me . . . cuz she was carryin’ a child.”

His suspicions confirmed, shame poured through Daniel. He knew of owners who had forced themselves on female slaves, and in light of knowing Josiah, the knowledge repulsed him now even more than it had back then. Stattam had been a partner to his stepfather, Nathaniel Thursmann, both men devoid of any shred of honor. “I knew Stattam.”

Josiah nodded slowly. “I figured you might, sir.”

“Do you remember the name of the man he sold Belle to?”

“No, sir. I’s never told that. I’s only told she ended up in Franklin. I looked for her, but it didn’t do no good. Fella by the name of Carter had some lists he got from a white man who was tryin’ to help put families together. I went to him, but he didn’t have no Isabelle on his papers. No Belle either. Only the age of women when they was sold, and if they’s healthy or not. I looked all over Tennessee, down in Georgia, South Carolina, Mississippi. Everywhere I could think that she mighta gone. But no matter where I looked, she wasn’t there.”

“Belle wrote the journal pages. . . .” Elizabeth’s voice was soft.

Josiah nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I gots ’em after the war, from a woman who was friend to her after I’s taken away. She’s the one who told me ’bout Mr. Stattam sellin’ her.”

With his boot, Daniel nudged a fallen log back into the flames. “So many of those deeds and records were destroyed in fires or lost when the Federals occupied the homes.” Not wanting to get Josiah’s hopes up, he was also curious. “Do you know if this man, Carter, used the plantation owners’ personal deed books to make his lists? Sometimes the names of slaves were listed in there instead of in the county ledger.”

“I can’t know for sure, sir. He never did say.”

Daniel started to press the matter but stopped. Chances of individual deed records still existing were slim.

“Josiah . . .” Elizabeth’s eyes held a sheen. “A minute ago, you said, ‘Just like my sweet wife.’ What makes you think Belle passed on?”

A sad smile touched his face. “I ain’t all the way sure that she has, ma’am. I just think she and I woulda found each other by now, if we’s both still here. She used to tell me that I’s her home, no matter where she went. She was my home too.” The flames from the fire reflected burnished gold on his skin. “She always will be.”

As they prepared for bed, Daniel kept turning over what Josiah had said, weighing the possibilities, and watching Elizabeth as she tugged a hairpin still caught in a tangle. Countless times she had pinned those curls up in the morning, taking no telling how long to get them fixed, when they looked so pretty trailing down her back.

They needed to talk, and would. Her reaction to him a few nights ago had jarred him. It hadn’t frightened him or scared him off, just made him realize how far-reaching decisions were, and how lasting. Looking back to the first day they’d met, he would never have been able to imagine how intertwined their lives would turn out to be.

“Do you need some help with that?”

She looked over at him. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

He circled the fire to her pallet and knelt down, seeing Josiah was already asleep. “Hand me your brush.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

He gave her a look. She gave him the brush. He had the pin out in less than a minute, which was really a shame. He should’ve taken longer.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then looked at the darkened cliff dwellings carved into the mountainside above. “Have you figured out a way for us to get up there?”

“Not yet . . .” Daniel stretched his shoulder, working the sore muscles. He didn’t know why, but some days the wound hurt more than others. “But I will.”

She twirled her finger. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Just turn around.”

Getting her meaning, he did as she asked, not sure if this was wise.

Her hands were surprisingly strong and went to the exact spot on his back that ached. Then he remembered, she’d seen the wound before.

“Is that too hard?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Feels good.”

“Let your head roll forward.”

Her fingers worked across his shoulders and down his upper arms, then to the back of his neck, and to his right shoulder again.

“If I’d known you could do this, I would’ve asked for my pay in back rubs.”

She chuckled and her fingers dug harder. There was no way she could rub too hard for him, but when she moved to his upper neck, then into his hair, he stood.

She looked up at him. “I guess you’ve had enough.”

Was she really that innocent? He looked more closely. Yes, she was. And he planned on keeping it that way. “Yes, ma’am. That was real good, thank you.”

“I hope it’ll help you sleep.”

Not likely.
“I’m sure it will.”

It took Daniel a while to finally get to sleep, and sometime later, he awakened to a nudge. He opened his eyes and liked what greeted him in the fire’s waning glow. His thoughts turned to those of a more intimate nature, and glad she couldn’t read them, he rose on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Good morning.” Elizabeth brushed back her curls, but they paid no heed.

He looked around. “It’s not morning. It’s not even sunup yet, woman.” He lay back down.

“I think I figured out a way for us to get up to the cliffs.”

“Does that way involve daylight?”

She giggled, bending over him, which only fed his former musings.

“Yes, of course it does. But I think we can climb to the first ridge—did I tell you that I can climb, I think I did—and then we can . . .”

He stood and stretched, listening but needing to move. Mainly away from her.

By the time the sun shone pink in the eastern horizon, they had walked the perimeter of Mancos Canyon with the aid of a torch, and with Beau trotting along beside them. Daniel had been to the ruins before, but he’d never taken the time to explore like this, and he had to admit, he was enjoying it. Over breakfast, they finalized their plan for scaling the cliffs.

Elizabeth made quick work of the breakfast dishes while Daniel and Josiah went into town for more rope. She studied the cliff dwellings above, eager to see inside, to feel the centuries-old rock walls beneath her hands, and to experience the same view as had the people who built the castle-like chambers. If allowed more time, Daniel said he could have built a pulley system to hoist the camera up, along with the rest of her equipment. But the freighter would be back through in two days, and she still needed to take pictures of the sights on their trip back to Timber Ridge. Maybe someday . . .

Daniel and Josiah returned with rope, and by noon they were ready to start climbing. Remnants of rope lay at the base of the cliff, most of it rotted, evidence of climbers who’d come before them.

Daniel removed his boots and looped the rope over his arm and neck, winking at her. “If I start to fall, get ready to catch me.”

She didn’t find it funny. “If you start to fall, hang on.”

“You best be careful, Mr. Ranslett, sir. I don’t wanna be havin’ to find my way back to Timber Ridge on my lonesome.”

Elizabeth swatted Josiah on the arm. “I’d be with you to help.”

Josiah raised his brow. “Like I said, sir, if somethin’ happen to you, I be on my lonesome.”

They all laughed, and she gave Daniel’s hand a squeeze. “Please be careful.”

He was a good climber, gripping the crevices with his hands and finding footholds. He scaled the first twenty feet of the wall as if he were climbing a ladder, but she didn’t realize how good he was until he got to the narrow overhang, roughly sixty feet above the floor of the canyon. She held her breath as he let go of the wall with his right hand and gripped the rock ledge. In one fluid motion, he pushed away from the wall, got a grip with his left hand, and hoisted his body up.

He slipped, and her heart leapt to her throat.

He hung from the ledge, his hands gripping the rock. The muscles in his fingers had to be aching.
Hold on, hold on . . .
Inch by inch, he pulled himself up until his chest was even with the ledge, and then he swung his right leg up, somehow found a grip, and pulled himself onto the ledge. He went down on his back, and she could only imagine the rush of accomplishment he must be feeling.

Still on his back, Daniel stuck a hand over the ledge and gave them a pathetic wave. Josiah let out a whoop, and she clapped along, so proud of him.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “What took you so long?”

When he finally stood, they clapped again. Daniel took an awkward bow and acted as if he were falling off the cliff. She shook her head at him.

He secured the rope and tossed it down.

Wishing she had her split skirt, Elizabeth bent at the waist, grabbed the back hem of her dress, and tucked it into the front of her waistband. “Not as good as your pants, but it’ll have to do.”

Josiah snugged the rope around her waist. “You’ll do fine, Miz Westbrook. You’s made for this kinda thing. I just wish that teacher of yours could be here to see you now.”

She smiled and hugged his neck. To her surprise, his expression took on a shy look.

“In the end, ma’am, people is what matters.” He glanced at the cliff far above them where Daniel stood. “That’s a good man up there. You’s a good woman too. Some people’s hearts . . . they point true north. You can trust ’em, no matter what comes. Sure is good when you find somebody like that, Miz Westbrook.” He shook his head. “And it don’t happen often in this life.”

Understanding what he was saying, she nodded.

“Now you hurry yourself on up there before he comes down here and gets on to me for huggin’ his woman.”

“I’m not
his
woman, Josiah.”

He just smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Hiding her smile, she found a grip and started up. It was much harder than Daniel made it look, and she slipped numerous times. Only because he was holding the other end of the rope did she not fall and break her neck. As she continued climbing, she realized how true that was in her career too—God had held her, guided each move. In recent days she’d found herself wanting her writing and her photography to have more meaning, more lasting purpose for Him. Something that would make a difference for the better in people’s lives. Something more than simply increasing the circulation of a newspaper . . . But what?