Within the Candle's Glow (32 page)

He didn’t know how to explain to her what pulled at his heart, but he believed it was love. He had just been too young before now to recognize it.

Her full lips parted. “Samuel, what is it?”

Agatha cleared her throat and shuffled her rocker closer to the fireplace.

“Not now.” He walked to the back door. “See you tomorrow at school—if the weather clears.” Cold air swooshed tiny flakes of snow into the room and across the uneven board floor.

“Now, why’s he out there?” Ella Dessa’s voice revealed a note of irritation. She followed Samuel, tugging at her shawl, and pointing to the right. “There he goes.”

Josh’s horse disappeared around the corner of the building. He had his head bowed against the wind and wet snow. His gloved hand clutched his hat.

With a swift move, Samuel bent and kissed her lips. “Bye, Ella Dessa.”

#

Sada’s limp got worse as they toiled up the trail. Samuel stopped and ran his cold-stiffened fingers over her right hip. “Hurting, girl? A few more feet. Come on.” Huge flakes swirled around them, making it difficult to keep track of the trail. Trees loomed as enormous hoary shadows while the snow worked to blot them out of existence.

They reached the steepest part of the trail. He could tell Sada’s right back hip or leg was not tolerating her weight. Stumbling to a halt, the old mule stood with the front edge of her hoof touching the path, the leg bent. She dropped her head, took a jerky breath, and closed her large, moist eyes. Snow collected on her lashes and stubby mane.

“No, Sada. The weather’s too cold to stand.” He stuffed his hands in his warm pockets, his cold fingers closing on the rocks. He stood resting his face against the mule’s reddish-brown neck. “Sorry, ole girl, but we got to get to the barn. Find enough strength. I promise, we’ll never try this trip again.”

Samuel went to the packs. He decided to untie the whole lot and deposit them out of sight behind a rock. If Jim was finished with the wagon, he could make one of the horses carry the supplies. He tugged his hat lower, to keep the snow out of his eyes, and reached for the leather ties and rope.

Within a short time, he had most of the bundles and goods stacked in a pile against a tree. An oblong boulder at the foot of a pine hid the sacks. Someone would have to hunt to make out their presence.

He took the six feet of rope from the packages and tied it to the single loop of reins. He figured it would give Sada more space to lunge forward. She wouldn’t bump into him.

Instead, the mule barely limped forward.

“Come on, Sada. Let’s go home!” He wrapped the end of the rope around his right hand and leaned into the climb. Gaining traction, he tried jerking on the rope, forcing the old pack animal into action. “You can do it. I’m not leaving you!”

Sada shook her head and bunched her hip muscles. Stretching her neck, she stepped forward. Her nostrils flared with the exertion and apparent pain. As they topped the first little ridge, he could hear each hoarse breath she took.

I can’t leave her.

They had one more slope, a curve to the left, and the ground would level out.

“Sada, you’re making it! Let’s go.”

The snow formed a silent, white curtain. He dug in with the toes of his boots. He looped the reins tighter around his hand, laid it over his shoulder, and leaned into the slant of the ground.

A grunt and a panicked snuffle of breath erupted from Sada’s throat. Samuel whirled to see her bad leg buckle. She lurched toward the edge of the drop off. Her huge, brown eyes widened in fear. Her body twisted sideways. She endeavored to gain footing, but the leg was useless. Her rear end dipped and swung her body to the right. The rope jerked in Samuel’s cold hand, and the stiff coils squeezed his fingers and palm.

With a surge of panic, he tried to unwind the rope. He pulled at it with his left hand. The drag of Sada’s weight snatched the loops taut. Frantic, he raised his hand in the air and attempted to slip free.

A coil in the harsh rope slid down around his wrist and cut into his skin. He gave a cry of pain as Sada landed on her right side. Her legs floundered in the air, and she slid backwards. The rope jerked in Samuel’s hand.

Instinct made him grab a slender tree with the crook of his left arm. Pain seared through his right hand, arm, and shoulder. The snow falling around him deadened his scream of pain. His brain registered white lightning shooting up the muscles, the tendons, and into his wrenched shoulder. Blackness threatened to engulf him as he clung to the tree.

Everything went quiet, except for his ragged breathing and the whistle of the wind around the curve of the slope. It blew over the rocks and crannies below and above him. Even with the steady flakes landing on his face, sweat managed to coat his forehead and run to his eyes.

Where’s Sada?

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wider to see. The brim of his hat bumped against the tree trunk and fell to the ground.

He made out the length of his arm stretched to the snapping point. His right hand had turned blue with the rope digging deep into his wrist and hand. Knifelike, blazing pain radiated through his palm and his whole arm. He cried out to the emptiness around him.

“Help! Help me!”

He tried leaning into the draw of the rope, praying it’d ease the drag on his arm. No relief came. He fought the frantic urge to let go of the tree.

He couldn’t see the mule’s whole body, but he focused his eyes on one hoof sticking straight up above the rocky edge. He could make out part of her hindquarters. Nothing moved. The reins and the rope were
stretched taunt and still connected to her.

Was his arm holding her whole weight?
Oh, God, there has to be tree trunks or rocks supporting her body. How do I know?

Samuel screamed as the pain mushroomed into more than he could tolerate. Foggy thoughts in his brain tried to assemble an answer to his immediate need.

A knife.

It was at his right side, sheathed, and out of reach. He couldn’t let go of the tree.

Shaking uncontrollably, he ground his forehead against the rough bark and sobbed. His hand became numb—adding a fragment of relief. “God—please!
Help me
. Please God, send
someone—anyone!
”

The temptation to let go and gain relief from the flaming torture entered his pain-crazed brain. He shifted his head and tried to focus on his purplish fist, despite the falling snow. Somewhere above the tangle of rope, blood flowed and dripped from his arm. He groaned and beheld it splatter on the thin layer of snow—sticking to the dirt and rubble. The tightly woven rope cut into his flesh, separating it into a red gully of torn skin.

Inch by inch, his grip on the tree loosened. Hazy memories of him and Jim rolling rocks over the same slope—years ago—mixed his laughter with Jim’s. Gray boulders smashed into trees and shattered. Bark had flown into the air.

His left hand clawed at the tree bark, which crumbled and broke. He tried bracing his boots against rocks, but it didn’t lessen the persistent pull of gravity. Shale and smooth rock under his left thigh and hip contributed to his downward slide.

Oh God … no!

The pull of the reins flipped him onto his stomach. He slid face first to the edge. His coat ripped open. Rocks and stones cut his chest and face.

The ground dropped away.

His body slammed something solid.

The world faded into darkness.

#

A flicker of light told him he was alive. Dark faces bent close and drifted away. Questions were voiced—ones he couldn’t answer. Gentle hands felt his right arm. Cold pressure made him whimper in pain. Freezing, wet snow covered his upturned face, and violent chills shook
his body. He thought of the hot rocks in his pockets.
So warm
. If only he could reach them.

More hands worked a rough rope down over his head, around his chest. They rolled his battered body face down, as if he were a baby. He sensed a rounded, hair-softened belly against his face—against his lips.

The rope tightened and tugged upward. His back banged into a rocky ledge, the jagged outcropping tugged at his loose coat, and stiff, bare branches scraped the side of his face. The sensation of weightlessness rocked him, reminiscent of his mother’s arms.

The wind sighed and crooned to him. Muscular arms lifted him, supported his body, and carried him. A gentle brown hand wiped wet snow from his face, and Samuel let his grip on consciousness drift away.

A
figure bent over him, blurred to his vision. Samuel had the impression something silky caressed his cheek. A low female voice asked a question, and another answered from farther away. Whatever touched his face was gone. He fought the fog in his head and forced his heavy eyelids open. He was on a bed or pallet, not a rocky ledge.

“Granny, it’s been two days. I’m worried.”

“He’ll survive. The herbs an’ sedatives I gave ‘im is wearin’ off. I might bind his shoulder today, jest in case.”

He heard the elderly woman’s answer, but he struggled to understand what it meant. He blinked. His vision cleared.

Ella Dessa
.

She stood sideways to the bed, her comely figure in profile. She gathered her long hair and wound it into a coil. Three bone pins protruded from between her pursed lips. Her right hand removed them and tucked them in place to hold her hair.

“Granny, Inez said she’d be back here by noon. Jim’s bringin’ the wagon.”

Her voice still came from far away.

“Samuel’s lucky Sada’s body fell on the narrow ledge. If’n she’d slid on over, she’d have pulled ‘im with her. Her neck were twisted under
her—snapped.”

Sada
.

He felt sick.

Ella Dessa clasped her hands at her waist. “It was good of the men to drop rocks over the edge, so as to bury her. Keeps the critters and vultures away.” She turned her back to his low bed. “Inez left while you were in the privy.”

“I heard yer good-byes.”

“Where’s the …
others
?”

“I fed Thomas an’ one he calls August some ham, gravy, an’ biscuits this morn’, gave ‘em a food bundle to tote, an’ sent ‘em on their way over the trace. Nary seen skinny men eat so much in my life—only varmints that’s starved. Not a breath ‘tween bites. My old Abe had to snatch fast to git any vittles the last couple days.” Granny chuckled and lowered herself into a rickety pine rocker.

“How long have you been doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what, child?”

“You know what I mean—helpin’ those slaves escape to the north.”

Samuel closed his eyes against the throb in his shoulder, right wrist, and hand. He continued to listen to their muted voices. He couldn’t quite understand to whom they referred.

What slaves?

“Ahh, it’s been secret, ‘til now. Abe found the first five of ‘em hunkered in the barn ‘bout six years ago. They were so thin I might’ve broke their arms with my twisted hands. He coaxed ‘em in the house. Woke me an’ I cooked ‘til dawn. They ate all I set ‘fore ‘em an’ loved my ‘lasses pie. One weren’t no more than twelve. I jest wanted to hug an’ keep ‘im. They’d been diggin’ ore in a mine owned by their master.”

“How’d they know to come?”

Granny chuckled, and the rocker squeaked. “They gots a good talk line. Seems to reach where needed. They slip into the barn. Sometimes alone. Others … a group. I tend to wounds ‘nd feed ‘em, then they skedaddle. Vanish to the silence of God’s forest.”

“I honestly believe what you do is a God-given blessin’. Oh, Granny, I wish I could help you and Abe.”

“No, child. It’s best only ole Abe an’ me take keer of ‘em. Nary breathe a word ‘bout us.”

“No,
never
.”

“Samuel had God watchin’ over ‘im. God the Father sent those
slaves through the woods an’ acrost the trail ‘ezactly at the right time.”

“Yes. With the wind and snow, I don’t know how they heard him moanin’ on that ledge, but they did.”

“God provided.”

Samuel opened his eyes and squinted at the underside of the loft. Bundles of dried herbs, corncobs, and plants hung, suspended by twine pegged into cut saplings. Everything started coming back to him, the sleet, and the snow.