In His Eyes(63)

Ella found the kitchen cold and empty, and though she doubted she’d find Basil anywhere in the house, she checked every corner just to be certain. She even poked her head into the smokehouse and cellar, but didn’t see a soul.

Ella turned back to the rear porch. She’d just have to tell Sibby the girl had not come to the house today. She paused and tapped her chin. Sibby did seem intent on speaking to Basil, and if she wasn’t at the house…well, then Ella knew where she might find her.

She looked out toward the field that stretched out behind the yard. This would be the perfect time to see what they kept so secretive back there. With the major gone, Sibby in bed, and Lee taking a nap….

Ella turned on her heel and lifted her work dress above the tall grass before she could change her mind. She made it across the yard and to the small line of trees beyond it where she’d heard Basil singing that day she’d discouraged Ella from crossing over the deep rut in the ground. She slipped into the trees and regarded the gouge in the earth, a stream of muddy water languidly carrying leaves and bits of debris from one location to another.

Ella wrinkled her nose. The creek might prove to be a bit of an obstacle. She set her shoulders. Well, if Basil could do it, so could she. Ella glanced around. No one moved in the yard, and only the sound of a chattering squirrel met her ears. If she were to fall, only the twittering birds would laugh at her humiliation. She tugged her skirt and petticoat up to her knees and made a mighty leap.

Her foot caught on the bank on the other side and she slipped. Ella churned her feet, but only succeeded in sliding farther down. Finally, the toes of her already badly worn shoes caught and she scrambled up the other side. She brushed her palms off on her skirt and examined it. She’d smeared a bit of dirt on the front where she’d hit her knees, but otherwise she was none the worse for wear.

Ella straightened herself and picked her way through the scraggly trees clinging to this side of the bank and stepped out into another open field. This one seemed even less tended than the one closer to the house. Forgotten stalks of picked-clean cotton plants reached for the sky like bony fingers from the grave. No wind stirred them, as though even the breeze didn’t wish to wake the dead.

Just ahead, a path emerged through the tangle where the passage of feet bent the stalks into submission. Ella held her skirts as close to her sides as she could and picked her way through the fingers that tried to snag her fabric.

A thin line of trees waited on the other end of the sea of dead cotton stems. It seemed as though it took her an hour to make her way across, her heart hammering in her chest in slow motion. What would someone do if they saw her out here alone? She knew all too well that lawless men and bushwhackers roamed freely and could appear from anywhere.

If she raised a scream, would Sibby hear her? Even if she did, what would the injured woman be able to do about it? Likely, Ella’s cries would only bring more evil men from hiding.

She quickened her pace, ignoring the sounds of snagged and ripping cloth. Did a shadow move over there, out of the corner of her eye?

She set her teeth and lengthened her stride. It’s nothing. There’s no one out here after me. The thought did nothing to ease the quickening of her breath.

By the time she reached the miniscule cover of the trees, her heart felt as though it might leap from underneath her bodice and flop upon the ground like a fish. Ella put her fingers to her cheeks in an effort to cool them.

Safe. All is well. No one but me and the bonny birds…

Ella repeated the words until her breathing returned to normal. She squeezed her eyes shut, only to have them fly open when a strange noise arrested her attention and reminded her that she would do better to remain unseen. Ella ducked behind a twisted cypress and peered out to the next field.

There. The settlement Basil said Ella should never visit. Two lines of cottages stood in neat rows, some of them even with whitewashed walls. Behind each of them on this side, a small fenced garden boasted rows of vibrant plants soon to be teeming with ripe vegetables. Dark-skinned women in bright headscarves worked hoes or stood around talking in the sunshine while little ones ran around their skirts.

Ella tilted her head. How very strange. Every mile of Mississippi she had traveled shared a common theme. Homes were burned, abandoned, or otherwise left in disrepair. Yet here, not only did the mansion itself remain unharmed and fully intact, but apparently the former slave quarters fared far better than any community Ella had seen on her way from home to here near Greenville.

She peered closer at what might have been a pleasant scene, if not for the large man standing at the end of the row of homes holding a rifle. Ella narrowed her eyes and tried to make out the distinct features of his face, but he kept turning his head to scan the horizon. He waited on something, the tension in his shoulders evident even from this distance. Whatever he watched for, it had him worried.

Ella worked her lip between her teeth. A thriving community hidden back here with an armed guard? Obviously, this was what Basil and Sibby wanted to keep from her. But why? If the freed people residing at Belmont were working the land and appeared to be living well, then the soldiers wanting to enforce the Freedmen’s Bureau’s laws should be quite satisfied.

She must be missing something. But what?

She watched the people milling about a few moments longer, finally deciding to ask Sibby the reason behind the secrecy. The major had said she could stay, and if she lived here, then she deserved to know what transpired on these lands. Didn’t she?