FATHER HAD BEEN RIGHT. AS the news of the uprising spread to neighboring plantations, the people of Charleston County went mad. The festering seed of hatred, sown so deeply, sprouted. With a grim face, Father had said, “They will come.”

The next day, neighbors poured through the gates into Livingston. Father was the one they turned to; it was evident he was respected by many. Father tried to calm the venom stirring their blood.

Around midmorning, Bowden and Knox rode in, followed by six other riders; behind them came carriages with their womenfolk. From our position on the veranda, Whitney and I watched the growing crowd.

Growing tired of Father’s voice of reason, a belly-heavy man with small, wire-framed spectacles resting on the tip of his nose climbed up on the front of a wagon. “Listen up, good people of Charleston,” his voice boomed. The restless crowd turned from Father to the new man. “Mr. Hendricks seems to be suffering a little black-lover fever.” He sent a warning glare at my father.

I glanced at Father. He didn’t respond. He remained placid and unmoving, his back straight, his shoulders drawn back, his eyes fastened on the man.

The man went on. “Them niggers will pay for what they did at the Barry Plantation. We will incinerate them like they did to poor Mr. Barry and his men. Let it be a warning to anyone who stands in our way: these niggers are as good as dead.”

The crowd erupted in a cheer, their fists raised, pounding at the air; they were hungry for Negro blood.

“Now, time’s a-wasting. The longer we delay, the farther those murderous bastards get. Let’s go!” he shouted.

The crowd thundered its approval. As quickly as they arrived, they left. Bowden, Knox, and Father stood watching them disperse. Father turned to walk away.

“Father!” I yelled to him as I descended the steps.

He stopped and half-turned to me. “What is it, Willow?” His eyes flashed a warning that stirred a memory of one of his earlier warnings. I continued cautiously. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“What do you propose I do?”

“I suppose I expect you to help save those slaves. I know you can’t stop that blood-thirsty mob, but there must be something we can do. I’ve seen the condition of the Barry slaves. Some can’t have gone far; some may have doubled back to the Barry Plantation already.”

“Willow, you are to do nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing!” His voice deepened as he moved toward me. “I will lock you in your room if I must. But you are not to leave this plantation. Understood?” He gripped my shoulders and shook me.

I gulped at his show of anger. We were back at square one. All the mending we had done to our relationship had vanished. I shifted my burning eyes to the ground and forced a nod.

“Good. I have things to attend to at the warehouses in town.” The muscles at the corner of his mouth twitched. He released me and stepped back. Turning, he strode toward the wharf, summoning Jones to follow.

Whitney and I ran to the corner of the house and peered around it. Father boarded the schooner and Jones climbed in behind him.

We jumped and yelped when Bowden whispered between our hovering heads, “I hope you ladies aren’t getting any ideas.” He and Knox had crept up behind us.

“Bowden, didn’t anyone teach you not to creep up on people?” I sent a fist at his chest.

Bowden smirked. “You are aware, aren’t you, that you become more irresistible when you are angry, Willow Hendricks?”

“Oh, puke!” Whitney said with a huff, pushing her way through the men.

“We’ve had about all we can handle for the day. Being women and all, this day has been a bit much for us. So, we will bid you gentlemen good day,” I said in a honeyed voice.

“Oh…?” Bowden examined my intent for a moment too long.

“Bowden, Whitney’s been through enough and the twins need her. So I suggest you stop trying to figure out what I’m up to and do something productive. Why don’t you and Knox put yourselves to good use and go out there and see if you can stop whatever that deranged mob intends for those slaves?” I said, my tone more acerbic.

Bowden’s expression sharpened to anger at my disrespectful response. “Do not speak to me like I am a child,” he said, hurt.

Instantly regretful, I replied, “Father’s behavior has upset me. You don’t deserve that. I’m truly sorry.” My lip trembled as I gazed into his face.

Bowden softened. “I gladly accept your apology.” He gently stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. I leaned into it; turning my mouth, I tenderly kissed his knuckles.

“All right, lovebirds, let’s get on with it.” Knox chuckled good-naturedly.

When the men were gone, Whitney turned to go inside.

“Where are you going?”

Puzzled, she drawled, “Umm, inside…aren’t I?”

“No, of course not. We are going out there to help those fugitives.”

“But you said to your Father and Bowden—”

“I know what I said. But sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands when it comes to men. I told them what they wanted to hear, so they would leave.”

Whitney arched a brow, then her head bobbed up and down. “Sneaky little wench, aren’t you?” She giggled.

Blatantly disobeying Father’s orders, we had our horses saddled and headed first for the Barry Plantation.