The black swan (76 page)

up the path on Strawberry with the wind in her hair and the roseblush on her cheeks.

Adam got down from the wagon, his mouth set, his eyes dead. Expecting only more death, more destruction, he walked into the front hall. Mossrose was gone. Even its scent had vanished. This place smelled like a stable, and evidences of its use as such remained on the once brightly polished floor. His boots sounded loud, echoing in the strangely empty house. In the main parlor, where he and Dulcie had danced, were ashen remnants of a huge fire that had been set in the middle of the floor. Across the papered walls and ceiling crept dark smoke streaks.

Claudine stood in the entrance hall, her eyes watering from the acrid, damp smell. She hadn't wanted to come back. There was nothing here. She was terrified to find out whose spirit it was that she sensed wandering restless and unhappy along these grounds. Perhaps it was 'Polio. Perhaps it was her own mother, Rosaleen. Her eyes followed Adam, but she stood where she was.

Adam circled the parlor, touching the charred ruins of the furniture. The piano had been hacked to pieces, some of it burnt for firewood, other splintered remnants left to lie on the floor. He kicked at the twisted keyboard, then squatted down, his fingers caressing the ivory rectangles, remembering, trying to bring back the sounds of Dulcie playing and singing.

The house was filled with strange, empty noises. Leaves skittering across the floors, blown there by wind and storms. Mice busily claiming what man had discarded. Stray, scraggly chickens pecking at threads of once luxurious carpets. Soft padding noises of unknown origin mingled as Adam strained to hear the past sound again in his mind.

From the back hall the woman moved slowly, blending the telltale sounds of her cloth-wrapped feet with the rustling of the wind. She pressed against the wall, her face shining with nervous sweat, her eyes white-walled with fear. She had done this before. Abandoned plantations lay unguarded and tempting to every passing deserter, every band of marauding refugees, gangs of runaway slaves, impoverished whites.

She slithered around the corner, her eye on the intruder. She raised the ax, renewing her grip on its broken handle.

The man didn't move. He hadn't heard her. She moved quickly, taking small running steps toward her victim, the ax held above her head.

"Ludy!" Claudine's shrill voice pierced the air. "Ludy, no!"

Adam spun, still on his haunches, throwing himself off balance. He half-lay on the floor, his arm up protecting his head.

Ludy, the midwife, stood poised, wild-eyed, the ax held aloft directly over Adam. Her body was stiU tensed, ready to strike, as she turned toward Claudine.

Claudine moved forward, stopping as Ludy moved the ax. "Ludy ... no! It's me, Claudine."

Ludy glanced down at Adam. He made no move to defend himself.

'That's Mastah Adam. Ludy, put that ax down." Claudine's voice trembled.

Slowly Ludy lowered the ax, still staring suspiciously at Claudine. "What you doin' heah? Wheah you comes from?'*

"Nassau. We been livin' in Nassau. Mastah Jem tell you *bout that, ain't he? You kin see who Ah am, Ludy. Look."

"Mastah Jem gone," Ludy said warily.

Claudine, frowning, approached her. "What you mean, he gone? Wheah Mastah Jem go? Wheah Miss Trishy?"

"She gone too. Ain't nobody lef."

"Dey daid?!"

Ludy shrugged her shoulders. She placed the ax in the corner. Adam sat on the floor, silent, staring at the broken keyboard. "Dey lef an' doan come back. Mastah Jem say he comin' back, but he doan."

"What happened at Mossrose, Ludy?" Adam asked soft-

ly.

"Cain't say 'zackly. Lot's o' feet come trampin' thoo heah. Lots o' death an' sorrow stay behin'."

"Where's 'Polio? He ain't—"

Ludy smiled. " 'Polio make he daddy happy. Dem black sojers know 'Polio somethin' special fust dey sets dey eyes on him. He a lootenan' in de Affican Ahmy," Ludy said proudly. "He march off wid dem sojers headin' fo' South Ca'lina to meet up wiff de ahmy o' Gen'l Rufus Saxton. 'Polio gwine be de instrum'nt dat end dis ol' war."

"And the others?" Adam asked.

"Some done run off. De raiders hack some to deff fo* de sport of it," Ludy said bitterly. "Dey burn Mossrose an' tells

us we's free." She picked up the ax. "So Ah free, an' Ah defen's mah home. Dis ol' ax know de way thoo picn'y white-trash skulls dat tells me Ah's free an* den take de food from mah fiel's an' de clo's offen mah back. Ludy ain't no fool. How Ah s'pose to live effen dey burn an' kill eve'y thing dey sees?"

Adam slowly got to his feet. "Who is left, Ludy?"

"Violet. Barney an' Dick out in de woods diggin' up de supplies we done hide away. Grace hidin' in de spring-house. Hosea. Hersel an' 'Simmon, dey in de qua'ters. Ain't much o' de qua'ters lef. Dem white trash dat run from Gen'l Rosecrans' ahmy done burn ever'thin' dey cain't eat or take wiff 'em. Den dey piss on what's lef. Dey's de chilluns ob de debbil, dose mens."

"The men who came through here are deserters from Rosecrans's command? He's supposed to be in Tennessee."

Ludy looked blankly at him. "Doan know wheah Tenny-3ee is. Dem mens say dey come a long way ovah de moun-tins to bring us freedom. Dey say we ain't wu'th all de mis'ry an' de hell dey livin' thoo. Dey say dey ain't nevah gwine back. But dey doan bring us no freedom."

Claudine looked disgustedly around the room. "Dey make dis mess?"

Ludy nodded. She looked at Adam, her eyes fierce, her mouth set. "We took keer o' Mossrose like Mastah Jem say, but we ain't stayin' no mo'. Barney an' de mens fixin* de wagons. We gwine leave heah tonight. Fellie an* Ester an' Darcy up Nawth. We gwine fin' 'em."

Claudine looked at Adam. "You knows wheah Fellie an* Ester is?"

Ludy's mouth grew firmfr, small lines forming. "We fin's 'em."

"Mastah Adam, ain*t you gwine do nothin' 'bout this?"

"What do you want me to do, Claudine?"

"You jes' gwine let 'em go?"

"How many of you are there, Ludy?"

"Barney an' Dick an' Hosea an' Violet an' Grace an' me. Hersel woan leave 'Simmon. 01' 'Simmon he done got burnt when dem sojers fire de qua'ters. Hersel say he an' 'Simmon gwine die wiff Mossrose. Dey too ol' to be gwine Nawth."

Adam thought of Hersel, the little groom whom Dulcie used to plague by riding Strawberry out into all kinds of weather. He remembered 'Simmon, the purple-black old

man who worked in the fields beside his old stick-woman wife. He hadn't the heart to walk to the quarters to see these old men who had lived long enough to watch their world die and now waited only to die with it.

He stared blankly outside, then roused. "Ludy, tell them to come in. I'll be sailing for New York. I can get you that far safely."

Ludy looked suspiciously at Adam, then to Claudine. Claudine broke into a wide grin. "Doan you worrit none, Ludy. Folks eve'ywheah calls him de Black Swan. Ain't you nevah heard o' de Black Swan?"

Ludy's eyes filled with tears. "We heahs, but ain't nevah thinkin' he gwine come to Mossrose. Thanky, suh. We does what you say."

Adam went outside. He walked to the ruin of the folly, his feet moving over the grass where he and Dulcie had danced. Without thinking, he headed for the burned-out stables, half-expecting the blue roan to be saddled and waiting. He stood in their ruins and looked down the row of slave quarters. The cabin that had been Wolf's stood out from the burned shells of the others.

Adam remained staring at the cabin for some time. How different would his life with Dulcie have been if Wolf hadn't interrupted them with his obscene display that day in the little hut in the woods? For a moment it seemed to Adam that Dulcie would still be alive, happy, and waiting for him at Mossrose if it hadn't been for Wolf.

All the guilt he ,had been carrying he mentally transferred to Wolf. It was Wolf's fault that Dulcie had followed him to New Orleans and come to be in Nassau. It was his fault that Dulcie had had to sail across the ocean to see her parents. It was Wolf's fault that she was on that particular voyage.

It seemed real to Adam, until Grace's shrill voice pierced his thoughts. He started, bUnking, seeing Moss-rose as it really was—abandoned by Jem, its fields trampled and scorched, its stables charred rubble. He shivered thinking of Dulcie here, or rather lost from here, wandering he didn't know where. Lost like Jem and Patricia.

Grace streaked across the lawn shrieking, " 'Simmon daid! Ludy! 'Simmon daid! Hersel say he gwine die, too! Make him stop! Oh, Ludy, come quick!"

Chapter Four

The cortege of slaves buried 'Simmon and Hersel in the slave burying ground behind the peach orchard. Adam walked slowly after them with Claudine. With the last spade of dirt thrown into the grave and the last prayer murmured, all faces turned to Adam. They were ready to leave, and they looked to him to lead them to safety and bounty in the North. They had finished with Mossrose.

Adam told each one what was needed. Quickly they went to gather the provisions for a long journey. Hosea brought to the front entrance of Mossrose two rickety, hastily repaired wagons. Adam walked briskly from one small pDe of provisions to another, mentally tallying the additional risks their makeshift vehicles would create in an already dangerous trip. The wagons were held together with wood patches and wire. Hosea had done the best he could.

But Adam doubted that the wagons would make the hard trip. Roads that had once been cared for by the plantation owners were now left to the whim of weather, use, and time. They were badly rutted, in some places nearly impassable because of fallen trees, debris, and heavy rains. On those same roads, they would be the target of hungry marauding bands of runaways or deserters. They had shoes on their feet, clothes on their backs, supplies in their wagons, and horses. Any single item was enough to tempt those who had nothing.

Adam decided to leave behind the weaker of the two wagons. They would use one of the big Mossrose wagons and the wagon he had rented in Charleston. It was too small, but it was sturdy. Hosea led two horses, sorry creatures that Jem had put to pasture two years before— all that was left of the Mossrose stable, once second to none.

They set out at sundown, keeping to the main roads to spare the rickety wheels of Hosea's wagons. Their route was merely a choice of evils. On the main roads they were liable to be stopped by patrollers seeking runaways. Along

back roads they could be accosted or attacked by nearly anyone. There was no place of safety in these times. Law, what little there was of it, was arbitrary, dependent on the mood and condition of the lawmaker. Of lawlessness there were endless varieties brought about by necessity, hunger, meanness, and war.

The first dawn they stopped near Beaufort, just miles from the Federal refueling station at Port Royal. No one slept. Adam prowled the surrounding area, his hand on the Colt at all times. Barney and Hosea worked feverishly repairing the left rear wheel of the wagon.

Her tread so light it made no sound on the pine-laden turf, Claudine came up to Adam. He whirled, grabbing for her. "For God's sake, Claudine, don't come up on me like that."

She rubbed her hand along her bruised upper arm where he had grabbed her. "We gwine be all right, Mastah Adam?" she asked quietly.

"We'll be all right." He watched her hesitate, frightened but not wanting to show him, uncertain but already cowed by his determination to be rid of her. He reached out and took her chin in his hand. "We'll be all right, Claudine."

"What you gwine do wiff me?"

"Would you like to go North with the others?"

"Ah jes' wants to stay wiff you. Ah woan be in yo' way. Ah woan do nothin' what you doan wan' me to."

Adam's eyes roved over the dark area, searching for movement in the shadowy woods. "You can't stay with me, Claudine. We've already talked that over, and my mind is made up."

"Ah ain't gwine Nawth!"

"You'll do as I tell you."

"Nossuh! Dey's suhtain things you cain't tell me. Ah cain't he'p what Ah feels fo' you, an' Ah cain't he'p you doan wan' what Ah gots to give you, but Ah ain't gwine Nawth! Ah's stayin' jes' as nigh to you as Ah kin!"

"Lower your voice!"

"Ah ain't gwine Nawth," she repeated softly.

"All right! I've already told you, you can stay in Wilmington with my mother. Now, for God's sake, go with the other women and sleep."

But none of them could sleep. Adam, as restless as his passengers, decided to chance being stopped and questioned. He could always say the wagon load of slaves belonged to

him and pray no one asked him for papers. Nearly anything seemed better than the waiting and the constant fear of surprise.

From then on they traveled day and night, stopping only for meals and short rests for the drivers. The miles seemed to bring Charleston no closer, until finally Adam recognized plantations they passed. "We'll be there by nightfall."

Adam drove the wagon to Melody Cox's millinery shop, as close as he dared to the well-guarded dock area. He went to the ship alone. "Rosebud!"

The big black man loomed out of the darkness. "When you git back. Boss?"

"I've got six fugitives waiting behind Melody's shop. Not a one has papers. Have we any cargo that hasn't been loaded yet?"

"Ain't much, Boss, jes' some turpentine, an* some mo' naval stores."

"Rouse six of the men. As the slaves load the stuff on board, one of our men will go back down the gangplank and take the last of the supplies. Oh, and Rosebud, gather three sets of men's clothing for the women. A very large set—yours—for Violet."

Rosebud whistled. "Yas, Boss! I meet you at Miss Melody's. You gwine stop an' say hello to her fo' a minute?'*

Adam scowled at him, then hurried back down the gangplank into the darkness. Rosebud heard him call out a cheerful greeting to one of the Confederate guards patrolling the area.

Shortly after, Rosebud ran along the Charleston streets, the bundle of seamen's clothing tucked under his arm. All the women, dressed in the trousers and shirts of the crew, followed Adam and Rosebud back to the dock area.

"Grace, you open your mouth just once and I'll smash you!" Adam rasped, his raised fist clenched. Grace's head bobbed mutely.