The black swan (20 page)

"Big Mose*'—Jane*s voice broke and another took up the story—"Big Mose yell at us to run, an* he grab fo* de catcher's gun an* pull *im offen de boss an* he st'angles *im wid he ban's!"

"De catcher's tongue hang way out. Mastah, dat catcher die.**

"Mose, he still screamin', *Run, Run,' an' us runs thoo de rattlesnake den, an' dat's de time Jason git bit by de snakes!*'

"Ain*t no mo* racket back dere where de catchers is, so Marcus sneak back. Big Mose lyin* daid wid a big hole in he ches*, de fust catcher he still daid, an* de nex* catcher on'y breavin' a li'l bit."

"So Ah takes mah good ahm, an' I chunks dat catcher a goodem on de haid! 'Nen I catches dem bosses so's we kin ride."

"We ties Jason onter de boss, an' we keeps on tredgin'. We comes to a ol* nigger daddy out lantem-fishin*. He he'ps us cross de ribber—"

"An* de nex' nigger we sees tell us'n to come heah."

Zoe cowered against the doorframe, as if ready to faint

Leona worked through the hubub. "Zoe, come and tear bandages. We've got to get these people out of here!"

Garrett and Adam were trying to get Jason into the wagon. His leg ballooned as the venom took hold.

"I don't see how he can make it," Garrett murmured.

They were distracted by a thump. The biggest gray horse, whinnying, tried to move toward his neighbor. Marcus, the groom with the broken arm, had fainted under the horses* hoofs. Adam and Garrett dragged him out and laid him by Jason. "Leona, have you got the worst wounds bound up?'*

"Yes, dear. Hurry, you people, get up into the dray."

Adam climbed onto the seat, his rifle across his knees, Garrett's extra revolver nearby in a pocket built for it.

Zoe saw the first thing that made clear sense to her. "No! You can't take Adam! I won't allow it! He's too young—"

Garrett took the reins. "Open the door, Leona. Stand aside, Zoe."

"Garrett, I beg you! Please! I don't want him killed!"

"Neither do I. Good-bye, Leona my dear. We'll return as soon as we can."

Leona put her hand on her husband's arm. "God go with you, my love." They smiled into each other's eyes. Garrett shook the reins.

Adam turned to face his mother. "I'll be all right," he said in soft-toned confidence.

Zoe's face puckered as the dray began to move. In the back Jane, rocking to and fro, started her keening again. "Oh, Lawdy Lawdy Lawdy . . ."

Garrett whipped up the horses as Adam looked back. "Zoe'U be all right. Throw a blanket over that girl, Adam. Cover her clear up and have her people tend to her. Then get back up here and keep watch."

Adam scrambled into the dray, glancing back long enough to see Leona catch up with Zoe and pull her back abruptly,

"Zoe, are you out of your senses?" Leona hissed. "You're screaming fit to wake the dead!"

"I don't care! I don't want Adam hurt!"

Leona gripped Zoe's arm firmly. "You keep on hollering like that, and they'll all get killed."

"I don't care about a bunch of darkies! Adam is all that matters!"

"Zoe, shut up! Shut your silly mouth! Do you understand me?"

"Turn me loose! I can take care of myself!"

Leona smiled grimly. "Good. Help me clean up this mess."

"I—I can't."

"Then get Mammy to help me if you're too much of a lady. We'll have to hurry. We've got to scrape the floor of the carriage house clean and rake the driveway and scrub everything that's got blood on it."

Zoe stared at her, but Leona was already moving in swift strides toward the carriage house. She turned to say, "Before dawn!"

Zee looked up at the trees; the dark night was already paling. Oh, God, why didn't we leave sooner? One day earlier and we'd be safe in Smithville. Please, God, keep him safe.

Leona shoved a rake into her hand. "Rake the drive," she commanded. "Start around the back, for that's the way they came in. Rake it hard so there aren't any foot tracks or spots. And sprinkle plenty of capsicum. It ruins the dogs' sense of smell."

As Zoe hesitated, Leona said, "It's your neck as well as Adam's and Garrett's. If the catchers come here, we'll be caught too."

"Thanks to you and Garrett!"

"—^who took you and your family in when you were fugitives!"

Zoe raked with frightened determination.

Garrett got the dray away from the streets of Wilmington before it began to grow light. But there was still the poor section of town to go through. Adam made everyone lie down, and he spread the blankets over them. The high sides of the dray would keep their cargo hidden.

The neighborhood dogs were a lot more noisy and persistent this trip, Adam noticed. Several of them followed the dray, barking constantly until Garrett flicked at them with the long whip and they fell back, still yapping.

Adam took another careful look behind them. They had passed the bend in the road. This side he could see nothing. Their horses were galloping smoothly, with greater speed still in them. Off to Adam's right the rim of the sun edged a field with a rosy flush. Crows flew out of the woods, cawing raucously. Overhead the buzzards were circling, hoping to catch an early cottontail for breakfast. Adam's head pounded with questions he longed to ask Garrett. Finally, he asked, "Do you think slavery is all bad? These people weren't harmed until they tried to fight off those dogs."

Garrett glanced at him, and without thinking looked behmd. "No, not all of it is bad," he said. "Some people are better off in a situation where they're taken care of and they're told what to do.

'There has to be something to what these people tell us about the cruelties. The Underground system wouldn't ex-

ist if the darkies didn't take such awful chances to break away.

"History shows us that slavery has been a monumental failure, Adam. Man is not willing to be a chattel."

As they rounded another bend, Adam looked behind again. All clear. "But, sir, if it doesn't work, why haven't the slaves been freed through legislation? The planters could hire workers."

"It isn't just a matter of freeing slaves. Those people represent the largest single item of Southern capitalization. There are fortunes tied up in them, actual money. If they're freed, what happens to the money they represent? Where would be the Southern ability to give and get credit? To free slaves, we must also free planters of their financial need for them."

"Then there's no way ..."

The dogs were on them before they knew it. Running silently behind the dray were two large hounds, powerfully built with deep chests and heavy, dark muzzles. Adam, sweeping the dawnlit countryside with his eyes, glimpsed the fawn brindle animal near the rear wheel. The dog changed its stride, ready to jump into the dray. Adam leaned out, hanging onto the seat with a foot hooked beneath it, and shot the beast in the chest as it rose.

"Good God!" cried Garrett, straining to hold the horses from bolting at the sound of the shot. Before Adam could reload, the blankets popped up, and four frightened dark faces looked out. Jane and the other woman began to scream. The second dog, silvery tan with one white eye, was up in the dray. Adam grabbed the revolver and pointed it but did not dare shoot. Well trained, the dog stood attentive, baying that he had them treed. The terrified women tried to fend him off, frantically waving their arms. The dog snarled, and tore at the women.

Marcus and the man called Boy pounded the dog with their fists. The dog turned on them. Adam scrambled into the bed of the dray, unavoidably treading on Jason, who lay so still. At point-blank range Adam shot the dog in the head. He leaped back, revulsed. Blood and brains flew onto his shirt and trousers. The unearthly howls and screams went on and on.

"Garrett, there's two men!" he said frantically. Hastily he reloaded his rifle. Garrett grabbed his revolver just as

a lanky, sharp-faced man on a swiftly galloping horse lifted his rifle and fired at the smaller gray. Garrett shot at the man and missed. Another shot rang out, hitting Garrett in the arm. He raised his pistol and fired. The sharp-faced man screamed and fell dead beside the road.

After that everything happened at once. The gray horse ran several steps after being hit, then collapsed. The other horses, pushed onward by the dray, dragged her a short distance before they piled up on each other, with the dray crashing into them just before it overturned.

Adam, coming to with a knot on his head, thought the whole world was screaming. Women, horses, men shrieked in a cacophony as hideous as doomed souls pleading for mercy in hell. Only Garrett made no sound. He lay still. Adam's revolver lay inches away from his hand.

"Ah wou'n't grab out fer thet if Ah was you."

Adam looked up and up. A burly man, seated easily on his horse, blotted out the sunlight. From the silhouette a pistol aimed at Adam's heart.

"You jes' rise up slow an' easy, boy. You gonna he'p me right this-here wagon an' git them niggers in it afore Ah kills you. We los' three men an' five dogs a'ready, chasin' this-here bunch. Now git up."

Adam couldn't reach the revolver. But he wouldn't die without a fight. He rose very slowly. He'd wait his chance.

The fugitives quieted as the slave catcher yelled commands. "Arright now, shut up an' git up! Off a yo' asses an' on yo' feet!" He punctuated his commands with well-aimed cracks of the long whip in his right hand. Still he kept a competent hold on the pistol. Left-handed? Maybe not. Adam shifted slightly in the direction of the revolver.

He was startled at the whip crack inches from his ear. Marcus, groggily holding his bandaged arm, flinched as the lash bit into his shoulder.

"Move yo' ass, nigger!" cried the burly man. "Git that bigun up offa the groun' so's he kin heft that-there wagon."

Marcus's eyes rolled toward Jason. "He daid, Mastah."

The whip sliced Jason's flesh. He was beyond feeling it.

Boy was helping an injured woman. "Fo' Chrissakes, you black varmints gonna stan' there all day? Git a move on!"

Adam, watching the pistol, saw the man's hold on it slacken. No, not enough time.

He looked toward the horses. Tangled in their harness,

held down by the dead gray, they were struggling to rise, whinnying and snorting with fear and frustration, kicking and biting each other.

"You won't have any horses to pull this dray if you don't do something about them," Adam said.

Before the catcher could reply, there came a hollow, eerie sound of absolute terror. It came from nowhere, it came from the air and up out of the ground. The hair on Adam's neck prickled. The Negroes froze, as unmoving as statues.

The catcher looked around, his head moving quick as a snake's. Adam picked up the revolver and aimed it. As he fired, a bullet whined past him, splintering a hole in the dray. The trapped-animal screams stopped.

The silhouette on the horse began to crumple. His whip slid to the ground, but the man raised his pistol, cocked it, and fired at Adam. There was a futile click. Blood spurted out of the man's jugular vein, each spurt marking his weakening heartbeats. With a sickening splat he toppled to bleed his life out onto the sandy roadway.

Adam watched every movement, unable to look away. The ruddy pool spread. The catcher's gurgling breaths grew more shallow, then stopped. The silence became unbearable.

Marcus laughed nervously. "He daid. He ain't gwine chase us no mo'." He stepped back from the still body, robbed of its formidable vitality.

God forgive me. . . . I've killed a man. Adam turned abruptly away from the others and retched into the underbrush.

His head pounding, his mouth sour, he straightened up. He wiped his streaming eyes. He drew in air. It seemed a long time before he could face them again.

The scene was no better. Jason and the catcher lay sprawled. The silver-fawn dog had been flung into a pool of stagnant water. All were black with flies. Involuntarily Adam looked overhead. Yes, the carrion crows were gathering, making smaller and smaller circles, ready to swoop down, and . . . this was the murder of Ullah all over again.

Out of his revulsion, Adam yelled, "What are you standing there like a bunch of sheep for! Get those horses loose! Hang onto them, we're going to need them. Girl, what's your name?"

"Mandy, Mastah."

"Where are you hurt, Mandy?"

"In mah stummick, Mastah. Knock de breaf outa me when dat wagon pick up an' fly like a pigeon."

"Can you help me with Mr. Garrett?"

"Yassuh, Ah he'p, yassuh!"

Adam knelt beside Garrett, putting his face close to see if he was breathing. Blood oozed from Garrett's wounded arm and from a bump behind his ear. Adam touched him. "Garrett! Can you hear me?"

"Ah rub he ban's." Mandy chafed Garrett's wrists. He was slow, so slow in responding. At length he opened his eyes a slit, then tried to focus. "Buzzards," he said indistinctly, trying to rise.

Adam breathed in relief. "We're all right, hear? Both catchers are dead. Lie still 'til we get the dray fixed."

"I'll help," Garrett said, but passed out again.

There was nothing to do for him now, Adam thought. He could put a wet rag on his forehead, but the only water was alive with wiggleworms. "Mandy, put a blanket over Mr. Garrett."

Adam and the blacks righted the wrecked dray. Jane was lying flat, her head on the sand. As the dray lifted, she began to scream again.

Completely out of patience, Adam grabbed her and shook her until her teeth clicked. "Shut up! Shut up! One more scream and I swear by Almighty God I'll take you back and sell you down South!"

Mortified with shame, he let go of her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Jane shook her head. "Mah laig pinned undah de wagon, but Ah not hut."

He whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Her ankle was twisted at a queer angle, purple and puffy. "Just lie still."

Jane's eyes rolled after him. "Yassuh."

The dray's sides were smashed, but it was usable. Marcus had untangled the horses and tied them to trees. They whickered, ready to shy. "Better use de catcher's bosses. Dis'n stringhaltered."

Adam nodded, trying to decide what to do. The buzzards had lit. They clustered down the road, feasting on the brindle dog. Adam's stomach lurched uneasily. They'd be here next. He broke off a small tree limb. "Mandy, stand by Mr. Garrett. If the buzzards come near, shoo them off."