This next hour would surely be the longest of my life.
I shuffled across the yard, pausing to watch Dorcas singing and twirling. I smiled, drinking in the sight of her. She waved and laughed. I waved back, my smile dying. I had promised to say good-bye, but now that the time had arrived, I couldn’t do it. The risk was too great. Indeed, I couldn’t speak to her or any of my precious babies. My voice would give me away.
I entered the kitchen and sat on the bench. Perhaps it would be better to think of things I wouldn’t miss. I looked about me with fresh eyes, viewing the space as someone who knew she would never return. It was a hot, humorless room. Four walls. Two doors. One table. Over the ash-strewn hearth dangled toasting forks, spoons, and knives, the blackened tools of my trade. The smells of stewed meat and wood smoke pervaded each rough-hewn board of the floor.
No, I would leave this all behind happily.
There were so many people in my life that I would be glad to forget. But the ones I would miss? Oh, how they echoed in my heart. How could I bear to leave my adorable John? Sweet Dinah and Delilah? My beloved Phoebe?
And Dorcas? Irrepressible Dorcas. Child of my soul, if not of my body. Lost to me forever.
The threat of tears ached behind my eyes, but I fought them back. I had to conserve my strength for the dash to freedom.
I must find something to do. Mark had said to pack, but there was no need. I couldn’t take my other bodice and petticoat, or my master could say I had stolen from him.
How sad that I had nothing to call my own.
Merciful heavens, I’d forgotten my two books—the legacy from Papa. They were hidden in the attic. If I fetched them, the effort would draw everyone’s notice. Chains dragging on the stairs would be heard throughout the house.
But this could not be helped. Papa’s books were my treasure. I could not leave them behind.
With a groan, I rose. The walk to the main house was slow and labored. Mrs. Pratt and Deborah sat in the parlor, engrossed in the spinning lesson. The three littlest ones sat quietly in the corner, playing with blocks. All looked up as I passed by.
“Susanna, what are you doing here?”
I paused, regarding my mistress gravely. “Fetching some garments to mend.”
She sniffed and returned her attention to her spinning. Her children watched me quietly as I continued to the stairs.
I clanked my way carefully up to the attic and knelt on my pallet in the corner. After prying away a board, I reached deep into a crevice for the two books. The smaller one came out easily and slipped into my pocket, nicely masked by the folds of my petticoat. The larger one would be a problem. I lay on my side and stretched until my fingertips touched the binding. The book relinquished its hiding place reluctantly.
Brushing the dust and the cobwebs from the cover, I considered what to do. It was too big to fit in a pocket. And if I carried it openly to the kitchen, someone would remark. I had to hide this volume, perhaps in the mending basket. It was in the dining room, on my route to the outside.
I made it down the stairs without seeing anyone. If I could walk past the parlor without being stopped, I would have my problem solved.
“Susanna?” Mrs. Pratt called.
I froze, framed by the parlor door, the book clutched to my side. I angled my body away from her. “Yes, ma’am?”
“If you have enough free time to work on mending, perhaps you can take the little ones with you.”
“The little ones?” I glanced their way. Dinah and Delilah dropped their blocks to smile at me. John immediately pounced and added their blocks to his pile.
My heart yearned to hug them and kiss them one more time. If only there was some other way. With children underfoot in the kitchen, I couldn’t escape this morning. Until Deborah or Mrs. Pratt reclaimed them, I would have to oversee their safety.
Would Mark’s plan work on another day?
I gazed at Deborah with pleading eyes, hoping and praying she would intervene.
“Mama,” she said, “the little ones are happy. Leave them be. Susanna has enough to do with mending and cooking.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Pratt bent over her thread.
I nodded in gratitude at Deborah. She nodded in return. A debt repaid.
In the dining room, I slid the book under a tangled pile of torn aprons, hoisted the basket, and trudged outside.
“Susanna,” Dorcas said, falling into step beside me, “do you want me to cook dinner?”
“No, it’s nearly ready.” I must treat this moment as ordinary. I must not cry.
“Have you packed pails for Papa and Jedidiah?”
“No, but soon.” It was good she had reminded me. Delivering the meals would take Deborah away from the house for a while.
Dorcas followed me into the kitchen and fetched the pails while I stowed the mending basket in the corner. With great attention, she set clean napkins in each pail.
I added buttered bread and wedges of cheese to each. They wouldn’t be pleased by this paltry meal. I wouldn’t be here to care. It was a welcome thought.
Dorcas frowned. “Is that all you will pack for them?”
“Would you like to add fruit?”
“I would.” She disappeared into the pantry, returned with two apples, and dropped them into the pails.
“If you cover them each with a cloth, we are done.” I kissed the top of her head and smoothed her curls. “It’s kind of you to assist me. I am tired of late.”
Her head drooped against my chest. “I hate your chains. I hate Papa for putting them on you.”
The words chilled me. If she were to repeat them to anyone else, I feared for the response.
“Shh, don’t say such things.”
“It’s true, Susanna.”
“That sort of talk will land you in trouble.”
“Perhaps it will.” She picked up the pails and headed to the door. “I’ll take these to Deborah.”
I removed the lid on a kettle of ham and vegetables. It was ready. With deliberate care, I lifted the pot onto the worktable, my movements clumsy from fatigue. I ate a buttered slice of bread as I poured mugs of cider.
There. I had finished my last chore.
Excitement gave me a burst of vigor. I retrieved my other book from the basket, left through the rear door of the kitchen, and limped toward the privy. As I shuffled along, the chain clinked in the dust of the yard, bumping between my feet. I stopped at intervals to catch my breath, weary from straining the muscles of my legs with each step.
Mark hadn’t returned.
I entered the shade of the forest and jerked to a stop, my chain catching on a root. I shook it free, wincing from pain as an iron cuff dug into my raw ankle.
I looked back at the yard. Had anyone seen me bypass the privy? Would they come to investigate?
Mark and I needed fifteen minutes to reach the falls and freedom. Had I come too soon?
Why was he delayed? Would he come at all?
I shouldn’t think this way. He would be here. He had promised. I edged along the path, deeper into woods. Before I had gone far, I heard the crunch of footsteps. Mark separated from the trees and slipped a green cloth sack from his back.
“Where’s your stuff?”
I held up my two books.
“Anything else?”
“This is everything I need.”
He took them from me. “I’ll seal them in this special bag to keep them from getting wet.” He wrapped my books and placed them in his sack, then pulled out a peculiar tool, his face grim.
“Let’s get the other part over with.”
Assailed with nerves, I peered back toward the house. Nothing moved save the breeze in the treetops. Could it truly be so easy? I could simply disappear into the woods, never to return?
With an ungainly thump, I plopped onto a log and pulled up my skirts while he knelt before me. He grunted with the effort of cutting the chains. A link severed in the center.
“Your legs are free. Let me see if I can cut off the cuffs.”
As the tool clamped down, the iron cut into my raw ankles. Pain pounded like a hammer. I slapped my hands to my face, pressing the moans back in.
He glanced up, then stopped. “You look like you’re going to pass out.” He disengaged the tool and slipped it into a pocket. “I’m not hurting you anymore. Let’s hope the chains don’t give us any more trouble.”
“I won’t be able to walk fast.”
“I’ll carry you, if I have to.” He stood and drew me up with him.
I clung to his arm and allowed myself to hope. I would be free. Before the hour was out, I would be free.
“Susanna?” a girl’s voice said.
We turned around.
“Dorcas?” I leaned on Mark for support. “What are you doing here?”
“Susanna? Why are you here with him?” Her lower lip trembled. “What are you doing?”
The heat of shame skittered along my limbs. I had planned to leave without saying good-bye. I couldn’t be sorry she had forced a different choice.
I gestured her closer and caught her hand in mine. I had to give her the truth. “I’m leaving with him.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Today?” Tears streaked down rosy cheeks. “You are running away?”
Of all the things I had ever had to do, abandoning Dorcas would be the hardest.
“Indeed. Mark is taking me to somewhere safe.”
She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Shall I see you again?”
“My new home is far away. I don’t think I shall be able to return.”
She sobbed in loud, choking gasps and wrapped her arms about my waist. “Now that the time has come, I cannot bear it.”
“Oh, my sweet Dorcas,” I said, pressing her shaking form to mine. “Leaving you behind is my greatest regret. I shall miss you desperately.”
“Susanna?” Mark said with urgency.
Dorcas stared up at him, eyes big and wet.
“We must go now, dear one,” I said.
She nodded and reached up with her apron to dab the tears from my cheeks.
Mark crouched, his eyes on the same level as hers. “You can’t tell anyone you’ve seen us.”
I considered his request and knew immediately that I had to correct him. Were Mr. Pratt to ever learn she knew of our disappearance and had kept the information from him, it wouldn’t bode well for her. I couldn’t leave with such a possibility on my conscience.
“No, Mark. She must tell what she knows.”
He tensed. “Why?”
“Her father will be most angry if she does not.”
“But…”
I shook my head. He backed down, his eyes darting anxiously toward the yard.
“Dorcas, I have something important for you to do. May I trust you?” At her solemn nod, I said, “You must seek your father and tell him I ran away.”
A hiccup. “No, Susanna. I shall not.”
“You must. Perhaps you should visit Mr. Foster’s store first.”
“Papa wouldn’t be there…” Her voice trailed away, her brow furrowed as she thought. Then she nodded slowly. “Indeed, I shall seek him at the store. And perhaps next at the meetinghouse.”
“Wise choices.” I straightened and gave her hand a squeeze. “He cannot be angry at your diligence.”
“No, he cannot.” Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She gave me one final hug and ran back to the yard.
“Susanna, let’s get out of here.”
He took off. I hurried as best I could, but was unable to keep up. He stopped, linked his arm through mine, and pulled me up the incline. The chains clanked and twisted into my sores. I hissed and stopped.
“Your chains are catching on roots.” He freed them.
Several yards later, the chains caught again. Mark sighed, his face creased with dread. “We have to take off the cuffs. I’m sorry.”
The idea of pain watered my eyes. “Can you carry me?”
“Not for the entire ten minutes. I’d have to stop often. It would be cutting it close.”
As if to punctuate his words, there was a shriek in the distance. “Mama!”
“That’s Deborah. She must’ve ambushed Dorcas on the path to town.” My teeth chattered. Time had evaporated. Deborah would run swiftly. How long would it take for Mr. Pratt to gather a search party? “All right. Be quick.”
I sank to the base of a nearby tree and pressed my back against its trunk.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. The bolt cutters gripped a cuff.
Agony gripped my leg like a vise. I thought I was prepared, but I was not. A moan escaped my lips.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t waste your breath apologizing.” I gasped between each word.
The cuff popped open and fell to the ground. He picked it up and threw it with a vicious grunt into the woods.
“Okay. Brace yourself.”
The second one proved more difficult. It slipped away from his grasp, its edges digging into my wound each time. I bent over to retch.
“Done. Come on.”
Our progress was slow and painful. Even with the shackles gone, my legs remained stiff and sore, afraid to bend. I forced my mind to ignore the throbbing of my ankles and concentrated only on the path ahead. We had been hobbling along the trail only a few minutes when the first baying of the hounds sounded.
He groaned, his body shuddering. “Climb on my back. We need more speed.”
A slow eternity passed before we reached the clearing. The dogs grew louder with each step.
“Damn. Do they know where we’re going?”
“They found me here before. They’re astute enough to connect this spot to where Dorcas saw me entering the woods.”
With efficient movements, he placed me on the cliff’s edge. “Can you climb down by yourself?”
Never before had the cave floor seemed so far. My legs wobbled and my head spun.
“Susanna?” he prompted in a strained voice.
“I don’t think I can.”