47

ACHAN RETURNED but stayed scarcely long enough for dinner, during which I delivered the message from the two intruders. He raged with a vile tongue and left soon after for his customary Thursday evening in town. Judging by his state of mind, I was certain he’d be gone until morning.

Goings-on around the slave cabins had to appear normal so as not to raise suspicion among the overseers, so everyone went about their duties. The train would leave later at night than those previous. Jugs of Tennessee moonshine spiked with laudanum had been delivered to the overseers with dinner, compliments of the big house.

A half moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the backyard, and I watched from my window as shadowed travelers crossed one by one into the woods. I watched for overseers, ready to raise the oil lamp in alert.

I counted the eleventh traveler emerging from the cellar, then the twelfth. Per Nettie’s instructions, when I spotted Maisie and her mother coming last, I would head down and exit through the back door, then follow them. Simple. Yet my insides were knotted tight. Lord, please don’t let me be a hindrance or a danger to them.

Thirteen . . . Fourteen . . . Then Maisie’s mother, Dahlia.

I gathered my carpetbag containing only a few essentials, including the Derringer and my journal, missing Jonathan more than ever. Leaving him and our children in their graves out back was more difficult than I thought. I knew they weren’t really there, but safe with Jesus. Still, so many memories.

I crept downstairs and reached the backyard just as Maisie, a makeshift pack hanging off her shoulder, emerged from behind the gardenia hedge, the last traveler from the cellar. I nodded for her to go on—when horse hooves sounded in the distance. She froze. I searched the road to the overseers’ cabins, but not a shadow moved. Until a horse and rider appeared, headed toward the barn. My blood turned to ice. Achan.

Maisie broke into a run.

I wanted to scream but held my breath, praying she would make it to the woods. She tripped and went down hard. In a flash, Achan wheeled the stallion around and set off toward her. I dropped my carpetbag and tried to get to her first, but by the time I got there, Achan had dismounted and had her by the throat.

“Please,” I cried, “let her go!”

“What you got here, you pretty thing?” Achan grabbed Maisie’s pack. “Going somewhere, are you?” He reeked of liquor.

Two shadowed figures struggled at the edge of the woods, one holding the other back.

“I’m betting you’re not alone, are you, honey?” Achan said.

As Maisie stood shaking, Achan pulled his revolver and aimed it at me. “And you, woman. What’re you doing out here? You better start talking, or I’m going to blow this little one’s head off.”

“Achan, I—”

He shoved the barrel of his gun against Maisie’s temple.

A scream split the night as Dahlia raced across the yard. “No, Master Crowley, no! Please don’t—”

Achan spun and fired. Dahlia went down. Maisie shrieked.

“Rest of y’all better come out of them woods right now,” he yelled into the dark. “Or I’ll kill the child too!”

If they emerged, he was liable to kill them all. Nettie, of all people, would know that.

He leveled the gun at me again. “Get in the house!”

“Please, Achan, just—”

“You want me to kill her, Charlotte? Right here in front of you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I do not.”

“Then get in the house!” He pulled her tight against him. “Or I will! I swear!”

I did as he said, walking past where I’d dropped my carpetbag by the pile of bricks. Achan dragged Maisie behind me, swearing.

The girl whimpered. “Mama!”

“Shut your stupid face, you . . .” He called her names so vile, the very air seemed putrid.

Maisie stumbled, and Achan jerked her back up by her hair. I grabbed the carpetbag and braced myself for a blow to the back of my head. But Achan must have been preoccupied with Maisie.

When I reached the door, I turned to face him. “Please. Just let her go.”

“Upstairs,” he ordered.

Maisie seemed in a trance.

Nettie, Jeremiah, and the rest would be sorely pressed to leave Maisie behind. But what could they do? They had no guns. No way of defense against Achan.

He pushed me hard, and I stumbled into the bedroom. “Get in the chair!”

I fell to my knees, pain ratcheting up my legs and around to my spine. He slipped the revolver into the waistband at his back and shoved Maisie onto the bed. When she tried to scramble away, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward him, then backhanded her across the mouth.

I grabbed the bag and crawled into the chair. Hands shaking, I unfastened the leather strap and reached inside. Please, God . . .

“You’ll do what I say, girl, or I’ll kill you like I did your mama. Or make you wish you were dead.”

I cradled the Derringer like Jonathan had taught me a lifetime ago. “Achan!”

They both turned, Maisie’s eyes wide. Achan reached for his own weapon, and I fired. He whirled and stumbled and went down, but I knew I’d missed him. I had one more shot. I aimed at his chest.

“Run, Maisie. Now!”

The girl didn’t hesitate. I made my way toward the door.

Achan regained his footing, glaring. “You dare shoot at me? I’m going to enjoy killing you, woman.”

“I don’t think so.” I pulled the trigger, and a hole plumed blood red on his shirt. Eyes wide, he clawed at his chest and slumped to the floor.

“Miss Charlotte!”

Hearing Nettie’s voice from outside, I hurried down the stairs and was nearly to the bottom when a string of profanities unleashed behind me. I turned to see Achan picking up the solid silver vase. I ducked, but it struck me in the back of the head before hitting the baseboard, and I pitched forward down the last two stairs. The Derringer flew from my hand.

I hit the floor, and pain exploded through my body. I cried out, grasping my belly.

Achan staggered down the stairs, eying me with loathing that chilled my blood. He tugged the revolver from his back waistband, and I crawled backward, looking everywhere for Nettie. Had Jeremiah forced her to go on with the others? That’s the only way she would have left, but I hoped he had. Because if she came back now . . .

“They all deserted you, didn’t they? Ran off into the night. But don’t you worry. I’ll track ’em down and kill every last one.” He raised the revolver. “But you first.”

Pleading would serve nothing, so I looked, frantic, for anything to use as a weapon—when a warm gush rushed from between my legs. The child twisted and turned inside me, my abdomen an iron band. Fighting for breath, I arched my back as the pain crested.

“I told you I’d enjoy killing you.”

He cocked the revolver, and I prayed my death and that of my child would be swift. Father, give me courage. And give them safe journey.

As he took aim, a noise sounded out front, and Jeremiah and Nettie burst through the door. Achan wheeled and fired. Jeremiah threw himself in front of Nettie, and the rifle in his hand clattered to the floor. Both he and Nettie went down. She struggled to rise, blood on her shirtwaist.

“Nettie!” I screamed and tried to reach her, but lightning tore across my belly.

Seething, Achan took direct aim at her just as Jeremiah landed a blow to his shin. Achan cried out and staggered back. Jeremiah lunged for the rifle, blood soaking his shirt, but Achan managed to kick it away, then struck him in the head. Again and again. Dazed, Jeremiah went to his knees.

Nettie scrambled for the rifle, but Achan was already on her. Fire in her eyes, she locked them on me as she struggled to gain her feet. A contraction tore through me, and I sucked in a breath, shaking uncontrollably. I knew what she was asking and would have gladly laid down my life for hers. But her request was impossible. The rifle was a world away. I would never reach it in time. Still, Achan would surely kill me after killing them, so I would die trying.

Unwavering, Nettie stared into Achan’s hatred with a strength far beyond her own. “You been wantin’ to do this a long time, ain’t you, Master Crowley? So why don’t you just go ahead and get it done. If you got the courage in you.”

Achan leveled the revolver at Nettie’s face as she mocked him, the crazed demon inside him thirsty for blood. My body drenched in pain and sweat, my world a single focus, I grabbed the rifle and fired.