Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(109)

“I sure do thank you,” said Joe. “I got me a small one, but one that size—”

“This one do the job, is what it do.”

“I s’pect so,” said Joe, and their conversation ended when the two parted.

Trapped as we were, on hearing Rankin’s name, all I wanted was escape. I used all I had in me to fight the instinct to call out to Joe for release.

As the night deepened, everything above us grew silent and time lost meaning. Pan slept, his head turned away, and as I listened to his shallow breathing, the concern I felt toward him was akin to what I felt for Kitty. There had been a dramatic change in Pan since his abduction and it angered me to think of how the past months had affected him.

I wanted to join Pan in sleep, but I passed the night fighting a terrible thirst that grew with each lap of water against the raft. My need became so strong that I was tempted to lick at the damp floor, though I restrained myself, knowing the folly. Twice I heard Kitty cry, but each time I was relieved to hear shuffling and noises from the goat, and then she became quiet again.


I MUST HAVE slept, for I was startled awake when our barge began to move out. My head ached from the cramped position I was in and when I turned my stiff neck, it was to see Pan’s eyes staring into mine.

“Mr. Burton! I peed on myself!” Pan whispered softly.

“Me, too,” I whispered back, and we exchanged a grimacing smile.

As we traveled up the canal, my anxiety grew. Where were we going? Who would be helping us? Had arrangements been made for Kit? How could I transport the goat? Where was Rankin?

When we docked again, I guessed it to be late afternoon. As everyone left the barge, it felt like we were being abandoned, yet we dared not speak. Later that evening, Pan clutched my arm as footsteps approached; then came relief on hearing Joe’s low voice, who came with his wife and another man. Within minutes they had shifted the cargo, and the trapdoor was finally opened. They took Pan out first, but there was a whispered argument when he did not want to leave without me.

“Look, boy, you got to stay quiet and listen. We tryin’ to help you. Now come with me,” the woman said, then whisked him away. When Joe encouraged me to back out, my legs were too numb to move, so he and his accomplice grabbed hold of my feet and dragged me out. I clung to them as they half carried me off the barge and up onto dry land, where they set me down. Where was I? I looked around as I stretched my limbs and saw our small craft tied in a secluded inlet. Up ahead, more sizable boats were anchored at a large dock lit by the welcoming lamps of what appeared to be a hotel.

Again the men helped me to my feet. My strength was returning, and we soon made our way into one of the large barns. We hurried past the horses, quietly munching hay in their stalls, to a small feed room at the back. There, bags of feed were piled high, but to the side was a small opening where the two men silently pushed me through. No sooner was I in than they began to seal up the entry.

“Where’s the boy?” I whispered.

“We bring him to you later,” I heard.

“How long will I be in here?” I asked, dreading another enclosure.

“I don’ know, but there’s some water and somethin’ in there to eat,” Joe said.

Before the last bag was put in place, I poked my head out. “Wait! Where are we?” I asked.

“We at the hotel that sit at the border ’tween Carolina an’ Virginny,” said Joe. “You got a ride comin’.”

“A ride?” I asked in disbelief. “What kind of ride?” I remembered Kitty. “Where’s the baby?” I asked.

“I brings her and the boy to you when the time right, not befo’,” Joe whispered, slinging the last bag into place and blocking further communication.

Though the small space was dark, when I slumped to the floor, I felt the supplies that had been left for me. My hands shook as I tipped up the small bucket of water and drank from it. Then I fell to wolfing down all of the bread and dried meat. I drained the bucket of water and then lay back.

I woke with my stomach cramping, and though I fought for control, I heaved up my meal as I lost control of my bowels. When I recovered, I sat back to consider my miserable state. My clothes, already in shreds, were impossibly soiled. My hair had not been cut, nor had I been shaved in many weeks, and a stench rose from me that reminded me of the afternoon when the slave coffle passed by. I remembered well my disgust when their ripe scent lingered. Now I was left to contemplate the privileged position from which I had made a judgment.

Too weary and sick to think further, I laid my head down again and fell asleep. I was unsure how long I slept, but I awoke suddenly, startled by Joe’s voice. He was hurriedly dismantling my protective barrier, and when the bags were lifted away, he urged me out.

It was dark in the room, but as my eyes adjusted, I saw Joe first, and then another dark face came into view. I stumbled back in disbelief. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Robert!





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE


1830


James


WHAT ROBERT’S INITIAL feelings were at seeing me in my terrible state, he did not say, but after a few slow moments, he greeted me with a nod. “Good evening, Mr. Burton.”

“Robert!” was all I managed to say before he turned to Joe.

“We will need fresh water and plenty of it,” Robert said.