The Cottoncrest Curse (18 page)

When Jenny's mother abandoned her, leaving her for the blissful peace of death after being wracked by the fever and by consumption, Jenny had tried to continue the school, but it became harder and harder. When Reconstruction ended, when the northerners left, the whites in New Orleans made clear what they had long believed but which they couldn't act on while the carpetbaggers were in control. The whites did not want the “coloreds” educated. The Vigilance Committee first warned her, and when she didn't halt her school, they warned her a second time. There was no third warning. The house on Rampart Street was burned, and Jenny was lucky to escape with her life.

Louis had been kind to her. He let her work in his office and sleep in the back room at night. She helped him with his legal papers, carefully inscribing each word with a quill pen into the big folio-sized books so that he would have a copy of what he was filing with the court. She wrote out the translations of passages from the books of the French legal commentators, like Planiol and Aubry et Rau, so that the new judges, the ones who didn't speak French, could see what they had said about the civil law issues that Louis was handling. She helped him proofread the newspaper articles he was editing.

But Louis couldn't pay her, and she couldn't live in the back of his office forever. She was glad that Louis had found out from James Walker, a white lawyer, that the Colonel Judge was looking for someone to help care for Little Miss, someone who wouldn't mind moving to Cotton-crest, someone who could speak and read French and keep Little Miss occupied and dress her and wash her and be her constant companion. Someone who was young and strong.

It was a perfect job for Jenny. It gave her an escape from the oppressive oversight of the Vigilance Committee. It gave her a way to start a new life.

Jenny could not have known when she first came to Cottoncrest how close she would become with Miss Rebecca. Jenny became her support. Jenny became her confidante. Eventually, the two of them became like close friends. Almost like… well, not like sisters, not with all their differences, not with Miss Rebecca married to the Colonel Judge, not with Jenny being the Colonel Judge's employee.

But now Miss Rebecca had abandoned her. Not voluntarily. Not peacefully. Not without great pain. But abandoned, nonetheless.

It was not for the Colonel Judge that Jenny had done what she had done, although the Colonel Judge was nice in his own formal, ancient way. It was for Miss Rebecca and for Miss Rebecca alone. In her memory. In her honor. It had been dangerous, but it had to be done.

Now that it was accomplished, there was nothing left for her here. Not with both the Colonel Judge and Miss Rebecca dead. Someone else would have to take care of Little Miss. Besides, tomorrow morning, or even this evening, Little Miss would not remember who Jenny was, would not recognize her face even though she had seen it thousands of times over the last few years, hour after hour, day after day.

Jenny adjusted her tignon, tucking the loose strands of her hair underneath the kerchief, and glanced out the window. Far away, past the haze of smoke lingering over the cane fields, she could see the sharecroppers' homes. She could see men on horseback riding up to Tee Ray's cabin. It was not even dark, and already they were gathering.

Jenny stared at the figures, miles away in the distance. They were dismounting. They were milling about. They were talking. They were climbing back up on their horses. They were starting to ride. They headed east down the long dirt path from Tee Ray's and the other sharecroppers' cabins toward the Mississippi River, and once they reached the river road, they split into two groups. One group headed south, toward Little Jerusalem and, beyond that, Lamou. The other group was riding north, toward the Cottoncrest big house.

Jenny knew they would come looking for the fine bourbon that the Colonel Judge had kept. They would drink their fill and steal the rest. Then they'd probably head back south, toward Little Jerusalem. Jenny was glad she had sent Marcus ahead to warn Nimrod and the others.

The horsemen headed her way were picking up speed. The wind shifted, and the smoke from the burning fields blocked her view of the riders.

There was no time left. Jenny cinched the blanket, into which she had rolled the few things she was bringing, firmly into the small of her back and over her hips with her belt. It held only a blouse, a skirt, and her hairpins. She put on her cloak and shut the door of her room behind her for the last time and ran down the three flights of servants' quarters stairs and out into the back.

Sally, in her cabin, was waiting for her, wearing a thin jacket over the only sweater she owned, a bundle already tied on her back.

The two women, one young, one old, walked hand and hand up the road to the north. They walked away from Cottoncrest, not looking back. There was nothing back there that they wanted to see.

Marcus raised his arm toward the northern horizon, in the direction of Cottoncrest. Jake, the bearskin over his shoulders, looked up and saw what Marcus was pointing at. It was worse than either of them had feared, and it had come faster than they thought.

Jake and Marcus were standing on the porch of Cooper and Rossy's cabin, and they could see horsemen, ten or more, riding their way at a fast gallop. They were riding along a high ridge next to the Mississippi River. The fast-moving images below the darkening sky were silhouetted against a reddish glow. The horsemen were rounding a large bend in the river to the north of Little Jerusalem. Behind them there was a curtain of spiraling flames and smoke rising from the burning cane fields. The vast Cottoncrest cane fields came within a mile of Little Jerusalem. The riders would be here, at this rate, in less than fifteen minutes.

“Got no time to lose, Mr. Jake,” Marcus said, a trace of panic in his deep voice. “ROSSY,” he yelled, “COOPER. GET OUT NOW. GET ALL THE OTHERS. THE KNIGHTS ARE COMING!!”

Rossy emerged from the cabin, still in the process of wrapping her daughter in a blanket. The temperature was falling. It was going to be a cold night. She started toward the woods. The inhabitants of Little Jerusalem, hearing Marcus's frantic voice, ran out of their homes and, holding children by the hand, followed Rossy. They moved quickly and quietly through the muddy yards seeking the safety of the woods.

Marcus looked around, doing a quick head count. Two were missing. Marcus ran toward Nimrod's cabin and pounded on the door. “ESAU. NIMROD. YOU'VE GOT TO LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!”

Nimrod came to the door and started toward the woods, but his pace was halting. Esau tried to hurry Nimrod, but the old man was stiff and in pain, and try as he might, he could not walk as quickly as Esau wanted. Cooper, halfway to the woods, looked over his shoulder and, spotting Esau's efforts, urged Rossy, who was clinging to their child, to go on ahead.

“It's hurryin' time, Nimrod,” Cooper said, running back to the old man and his son. “We can't leave you behind. You're gonna travel in style, like some fancy person. I heard that in the olden days, them Egyptian pharaohs what enslaved the Israelites had people carry them everyplace they went. Four men or more would haul them in some type of contraption, walkin' all the way, so that ol' Pharaoh's feet never touched the soil. Well, consider yourself tonight an Egyptian pharaoh, 'cept without the contraption.”

With that Cooper, his big muscles flexing, picked up the old man as easily as a baby and, cradling him in his arms, started at a slow, loping pace to catch up with Rossy, who already had disappeared into the woods.

“What about y'all?” Esau asked Marcus and Jake.

“We're going to stand and fight,” Jake said, pulling out the ten-inch Freimer blade. “I'm not afraid. I've run enough in my life. Halfway across Russia. Halfway across a continent. I don't want to run anymore.”

“Mr. Jake…,” Marcus said, clearing his throat.

“That's all right, Marcus. You go. You save yourself.”

“You don't understand, Mr. Jake. They got them long rifles. They'll shoot you down from a hundred yards off, and you won't do no one no good. Not yourself and not the ones in Little Jerusalem and the ones you want to see. We got to do something else. We're gonna start up the road to the north, you and me.”

Turning to Esau, Marcus explained, “If the Knights get here and find everyone gone, they'll head for the woods, and none of you will be safe, for they'll catch you before you reach the safety of the marsh, but if they see us first, then…”

Marcus didn't have to say anything else. Jake understood what Marcus was doing. The riders, if they caught anyone from Little Jerusalem, might whip them or kill them. The only way to save Little Jerusalem was to have the riders follow him and Marcus, and to do that, they'd have to head directly toward the horsemen.

Esau nodded. He understood that Marcus and Jake were going to risk their lives to save everyone in Little Jerusalem. “We'll be at Keith and Peggy's. No horse can make it through the marsh to their house, and no one knows where they live except us. We'll be all right. I just hope that Keith and Peggy don't have a fit when they see all of us coming. You know how they keep to themselves and hate any visitors, much less crowds.”

Esau turned toward the woods. Once he had disappeared behind the trees, Marcus and Jake walked quickly to the road and turned north, toward the riders. The horsemen, as they came around the bend in the river in a few minutes, would spot them.

As he urged his horse on, Bucky's hair flew in all directions. His hat had been blown off by the combination of fast gallop and the strong winds that continued to whip at the flames in the sugarcane fields, but Bucky was not about to pause to retrieve it. Bucky rode with abandon, digging his spurs into the horseflesh.

Bucky was right behind Tee Ray, who was riding a gray roan mare. The two of them were thirty yards ahead of the rest of the group. Bucky was glad that Jimmy Joe and Forrest had led one group of the Knights up to Cottoncrest to pick up “provisions.” This way, Bucky would be right with Tee Ray and the lead Knights as they pursued the peddler. The Knights hadn't ridden in years, but now they were riding again, and Bucky was with them. He was not a Knight, but Bucky knew that when they finished, they would make him one.

Bucky was sure that by the time Jimmy Joe and Forrest and their crew had caught up with them, Bucky and Tee Ray would already have the peddler in hand. Bucky had a set of handcuffs latched on his belt, and he had an extra length of rope in his saddlebag. When they caught the peddler, he was going to be ready.

Bucky had it all planned out. He would leap off his horse, gun drawn, and confront the villain. “I arrest you,” he would say, in a loud, clear voice, letting Tee Ray and all the rest know he was fearless, “for the cold-blooded, heartless murder of Colonel Judge Augustine Chastaine and Rebecca Chastaine. I arrest you,” he would declare, louder still, “in the name of the law and all that is righteous and holy in Petit Rouge Parish.”

Bucky knew that, at the sound of his voice, the peddler would lose all hope. The peddler would cower. Bucky would point his gun at the quaking peddler and hold out his handcuffs. “Put these on,” Bucky would snarl, “you miserable, godless heathen.” The peddler would drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, but Bucky's face would show no emotion, and his heart would be stone. “Put these on and rise to your feet,” Bucky would declare. “You shall be well tried and convicted, and then you shall hang, and we shall all be witness. Verily.” The
verily
would be a nice touch, Bucky thought. He would say it sternly, like those fancy actors on the steamboats. It would add a sense of drama to the event and make it memorable. Bucky knew that when he had finished with his speech, the peddler would be reduced to helpless tears, and the others, especially Tee Ray, would not help but be impressed.

Then, after the peddler had put on the handcuffs and Bucky had made sure that they were snug, Bucky would slide his rope around the peddler's waist and through the handcuffs so that the peddler could not escape, and then Bucky would tie the rope to his saddle horn and triumphantly lead the riders back to the courthouse in Parteblanc, the peddler jogging behind, trying not to fall so as to be dragged by the rope. There Raifer would book the peddler into jail, and Bucky would go to the bar to tell the waiting crowds how he and he alone had made the arrest.

Then they would respect him. Then they would know that Bucky was meant for great things.

“UP AHEAD,” yelled Tee Ray.

Bucky was startled. He had been so deep in thought his gaze had wandered out over the river and not on the road. There, a mile ahead of them, running north up the river road alongside the burning cane fields, were two men on foot. One black, in a short coat. One white, in a long fur coat.

“IT'S NIGGER MARCUS AND THE JEW NIGGER LOVER!” Tee Ray screamed. He whipped his horse and rushed down the ridge toward the road.

Bucky and the others whooped and urged their horses on, following Tee Ray's lead, racing toward the two retreating figures.

“
NOW
,” yelled Marcus with urgency, as the Knights came down the ridge, whipping their horses into a frenzied gallop.

Marcus and Jake turned due west, away from the river, and ran at full speed, toward the smoke and flames, into the cane fields.

The sugarcane, with stalks as thick as heavy clubs, was densely packed. Moving through the field was difficult. The sugarcane formed a forest of unyielding plants in row after wide row. The leafy tops towered a foot or more above their heads, and the sticky stalks clung to their clothing. Shoots had sprouted up between the rows, and Marcus and Jake had to push their way through the bamboo-like foliage.

The smoke hung over their heads in spots; in others it enveloped them in a choking cloud. Marcus pulled out a handkerchief and covered his nose and mouth, and Jake followed suit.