A splotchy, red-faced man knocked on the cabin door in rapid succession.
No answer. He knocked harder, but still no answer.
His companion, a wraith-looking man with unfriendly eyes and a pustulate complexion, spit out a wad of tobacco juice on the porch and said, “Suppose them slaves are here?”
“Don’t know, but we’ll find out,” said the red-faced man. He took two steps back, then kicked open the door. He picked up his black slouch hat that had fallen off with the kick and walked in with his sidekick.
Old newspapers, a pencil, and scraps of foolscap were on the kitchen table. A few clothes hung from a rope line. Wicker baskets were scattered around. The beginnings of a quilt were on a molded and broken-down settee. The wraith looked in John’s bedroom. He stooped down and looked under the bed. Too dark to see, he moved his arms back and forth until he felt something. He removed a small pine box from under the bed.
The wraith walked out of the bedroom into the main room. “Hey, Caleb,” he said with a smirk, “look here.” He paused. “Mr. Billingsly said something about a pine box.”
“Yep, look to see if there’s some writing on it,” Caleb said.
The wraith blew wood dust from the bottom of the pine box. He brushed the remaining dust with his right hand. With a clear view of the stenciling, he said, “It say property of Edward Billingsly.”
As they continued their search, Ann walked to her cabin on a quite warm Friday morning carrying a basket of wild berries. She dropped the basket and her jaw dropped upon seeing the open door; she raised her cotton dress above her boots with both hands and hurried up the steps and through the front door as fast as her arthritic back would allow. She feared Billingsly or his henchman had been there and left John’s body to rot inside. A pall of doom suffused her, and this time would be her last on earth, she thought.
Her eyes met the wraith’s, then fell to the pine box in the wraith’s hand.
“You probably wondering what this is?” the wraith asked.
Ann said nothing.
“We talking to you!” Caleb said.
“Get out of my house!” Ann screamed.
The wraith smirked. “This wench must not know who she talking to.”
Her anger escalated and her voice reached a crescendo, “Get out my damn house!”
Caleb closed the door, then grabbed Ann by the right arm and flung her to the floor. “We here on business.”
Pain exploded in her back. She was stuck to the floor; she tried but couldn’t push herself up straight.
Caleb became impatient. “Get your ass up.”
She couldn’t move. Caleb grabbed her left arm and yanked her up, forcing her to sit in a chair. Using his left arm, he swiped everything off the kitchen table and slammed the pine box on the table.
Ann flinched.
“We want some answers,” Caleb said.
Ann closed her eyes, hoping it all was a bad dream.
The wraith removed a pocketknife from his breast pocket. He moved toward Ann with the knife in sight. He grabbed her chin with has left hand and squeezed tight, forcing Ann’s eyes to pry open.
“Where’d this box come from?” Caleb asked.
She shook her head. Her mind was going to a familiar place—the time she lost her husband, her twin daughters, the rape. She mustered, “Don’t know.”
“Where’s your boy?” the wraith asked.
She was even quieter, saying in a whisper, “Don’t know.”
The wraith yanked the clothes off the clothesline and cut the rope with his pocketknife.
“Stand up,” the wraith demanded.
She crept up, grimacing as she rose.
With his narrow right hand, the wraith pulled on Ann’s dress at the neckline, forcing the buttons to pop off. He used his knife to rip the bottom part of the dress. He inserted his hands into the tear and pulled hard until she was naked, except for her run-down black boots.
A smile lit the wraith’s face. “Get over by that wall,” he said, pointing to the back wall.
Ann inched her way to it.
Caleb sat at the kitchen table. “Now, unless you tell us what we need to know, you gonna get whipped.”
Ann was silent. Her face folded into a blank expression, one that she had spent all her life shaping; one where laughter and happiness was halted; one where hope did not often take refuge.
The wraith looked at Ann’s scarred back and shook his head. She flinched with the first lashing. The second lashing forced open her mouth; she screamed and collapsed to the floor.
“Shut up!” the wraith said.
Her screams quickly dissolved into a whimper.
Caleb said, “I’ll make the bitch talk.”
He walked over to her and unfastened his pants and they fell to the floor. As she lay on the floor with her head resting against the wall, she saw a pair of dark eyes from outside of the back of her cabin that peered in a small opening.
The dark-eyed person was carrying a dead rabbit by the scruff of the neck; he dropped his kill, cocked his shotgun, and lumbered up the stairs. A floorboard near the door squeaked. He froze.
Talking within Ann’s cabin resumed, and the dark-eyed man relaxed a bit.
Caleb pulled Ann’s legs until she lay on her back. He put one knee on the floor, then the other. The wraith looked on.
The door banged open, and the barrel of the shotgun quickly found Caleb’s wide body.
“Get off her,” growled Herbert, the dark-eyed man. He drew his face inward by pursing his lips and making his eyes small. “Now!”
Ann had known Herbert since they’d both been slaves. He’d brought Ann and John food, often something he had killed or trapped, on occasion. He was one of the many people who’d found a way to repay Ann for the things she’d done for others.
Caleb stood up and pulled up his pants.
“No funny business,” Herbert said. Herbert removed his bowler hat and tossed it on the table. He was a large man both in height and girth, and he possessed a swarthy complexion; had short, matted black hair, and hands large enough to strangle a bear.
The wraith moved toward Herbert.
“You move again, and I’ll shoot you between the eyes.”
The wraith stopped.
Herbert picked up Ann’s tattered dress and tossed it to her. She caught it and covered herself. “You alright?” he asked her.
She nodded with her eyes closed.
He looked at the intruders. “We going for a walk.” Looking at Ann, Herbert said, “Won’t be gone long.”
The henchmen walked ahead of Herbert as they exited the cabin. Herbert told them he’d shoot them if they looked back or made any furtive movements. As a few small children were frolicking in the distance, Herbert kept the rifle at his side so as not to raise suspicion.
As they walked toward the back of the cabin and out of sight of anyone else, Herbert trained the shotgun on Caleb and the wraith as the henchmen continued to walk several paces ahead of him into a small, wooded area that Herbert knew well; it was one of his favorite places to hunt.
After reaching a bluff, Caleb turned around and yelled, “What the hell you think you doing?”
“Y’all going to join the fishes,” Herbert said. “Maybe they like them some white meat.” He paused, then shouted, “Jump!”
The wraith looked over the bluff. His mouth resembled a shallow grave as he gasped out, “That may be a hundred feet down.”
A buckshot whizzed passed him. “Next one will hit one of you. If the other run, I track him down and kill him.” Herbert made a slow circle with his thick neck as to say he was deadly serious. “I said jump, you crackers.”
The wraith jumped first. Then Caleb. Herbert walked to the edge and saw ripples from the splash. He waited for five minutes, looking for signs they had survived the crash landing. He saw none.
Herbert returned to Ann’s hovel and found her in her bed. Her empty eyes landed on him. “Ann,” he said, “they won’t be bothering you no more.”
Ann said nothing.
He sat on the floor next to the bed. He scratched his head. “Can I get you something?” he asked.
She shook her head and moved his hand away from his head so she could scratch it. She was doing what came natural to her, taking care of people. After five minutes, he stood and told her he’d return the next day to check on her.
She whispered, “No, don’t go.” She moved over to the edge of the bed and patted it for Herbert to sit.
He complied.
She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, then the next. Herbert said nothing as he looked into her eyes that were slowly regaining life. He pulled back when she unfastened a third button, but she simply lay back on the old quilt and smiled softly. The afternoon shadows deepened as they lay there, finding solace in each other’s arms. Ann allowed hope inside her mind again; she had found a kindred connection with the giant man that saved her life.