Part 18 (1/2)

”We are thankful we were spared from a worse fate.” Aunt Augusta winced as she gingerly s.h.i.+fted in her chair. ”Bones and bruises will mend. Mabelle is staying in the root cellar with Granny. Her injuries are the most severe. She has been slow in coming out of her disoriented state.”

”I will go down and have a look at her before I leave,” Colt said, coming to kneel at my side. ”I saw Livetta at the door. She appears strong and unaffected. Still, I would advise you to keep her settled and rested for several weeks. How are you?”

”I am fine and in awe of your dedication. Had I known you were leaving, I would have prepared to go with you.”

”I intend to return alone with what medical supplies I have left. Until the risk of fever subsides, I think it's best that no one comes into town unless warranted by necessity. Perhaps you can tend to those in need here,” he said, nodding in the direction of Aunt Augusta.

”They is comin' home!” Livie's voice squealed from the front hallway. ”A wagon with James and t'others is rollin' up the lane!”

We followed Livie out onto the front porch, and sure enough, Twitch was riding in with a wagonload of slaves lent by both plantations to help in town. James's tired expression broke into laughter as the wagon circled into our yard and he saw Livie running toward him.

Twitch stepped down off the wagon. ”All you darkies from the Run, get on your way. I gotta get mine back to West Gate.” He shoved a few Runians who shuffled too slowly for his liking. Then he locked a menacing eye on James and Livie. They walked away arm in arm, unaware of his scrutiny as they disappeared over the knoll toward the cabins below. With one motion, Twitch spun around and unleashed a crack of his whip across the side of his buckboard, snapping the slaves of West Gate to attention. Then with an oracle meant for our witness, he grumbled.

”When we step foot on West Gate, I better not see one of you wastin' a minute jawin' with your wenches or pickaninnies. Get straight to the fields, and don't make me come a-lookin' for you.”

Twitch walked toward the porch steps, twirling his whip back into loops with crisp expertise. He hung it on his belt and propped one foot on the bottom step. Tucking some snuff under his lip, he angled his eye at Colt.

”That's the way you gotta drive them whilst I am away. Losin' some head to help in town has put us behind in our plantin'. Understand, Purebred? If we wanna get them tobacco shoots in the ground, you gotta do more than ride along the rows, lookin' pretty. You are too soft to fill my shoes, but you are all we have. w.i.l.l.y Jack knows what's gotta be done, so watch him and learn.”

”What do you mean, whilst I am away whilst I am away?” Colt stepped forward to challenge him. ”I will be doctoring in town, then down in Lows Hollow. I'll not be overseeing the fields.”

”That ain't what your pa says, Purebred. d.a.m.n flood is givin' me a late start, but I have a slave hunt to begin.”

”The bridge will take several weeks, if not a month to restore. You will not get across the Red Hawk this spring. And as you say, we are delayed in getting the tobacco plants in the ground.”

”Your pa suggested I head west into Kentucky so the spring fetchin' season ain't lost. Too profitable to let pa.s.s. I would rather go south where the flocks start this time of year, but west will have to do. Usually do better there in late summer, when all them who run off from Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana is closin' on the borderland river. Can't throw a stone without hittin' one of 'em. Nothin' but Kentucky runaways this time o' year, but they pay a mighty good reward all the same. I am fixin' to ride out in two days.”

”See here,” Colt countered as he marched down the steps to confront Twitch. ”All is not measured in gold coins. These flood victims are a priority. I am needed in town, and I will not turn my back on them.”

”h.e.l.l, the only thing you have a head for is doctorin', and you can't even get that right. n.o.body wants you touchin' their kin after you dipped your hands in darky guts. You ain't good for nothin' but horses and pigs now.”

Colt clenched his fist and stepped toward him; however, Aunt Augusta was quick to intervene. ”Do not be drawn in, Colt,” she interjected coolly. ”Twitch.e.l.l, be on your way. I am certain you have business elsewhere.”

”That's right,” Twitch continued, using a defiant grin to bait Colt. ”And my business is packin' the wagon and wranglin' runaways for a few weeks. Guess you're gonna have to pull your weight for a change, Purebred.”

”Stop calling me Purebred!” Colt burst out, grabbing Twitch by his collar and pus.h.i.+ng him up against the porch rail. ”From now on, you shall show me proper respect. Refer to me by name, and remember your your business never takes precedence over business never takes precedence over mine mine. You are the overseer. I am the son!”

Twitch's face bulged crimson, but his grin grew wider. ”Better check with your pa about that,” he said, oozing perverse pleasure.

”Twitch.e.l.l!” Aunt Augusta's urgency startled me, but Twitch simply waved her off with his hand.

”No, Augusta. I have been waitin' for this day to come,” he mused while still in Colt's grip. ”You see, Purebred, it turns out I am the overseer and and a son. Not pure like you, but a son just the same. You want me to call you by name? How does a son. Not pure like you, but a son just the same. You want me to call you by name? How does brother brother suit you?” suit you?”

”What are you saying?” Colt eased off of him to look squarely at his face.

”Ain't it a rip?” Twitch's nostrils flared wildly like a cougar sniffing its kill. ”Why do you think my daddy shot my ma? It was because he found out she was layin' down with your daddy. You see, your daddy is my daddy too. We is the same, me and you. And it's time you start respectin' me.” Twitch shoved Colt's stunned frame aside. He turned his venomous tongue toward Aunt Augusta and me. ”It's time you all start respectin' me.”

”You are a liar,” Colt said, gulping for breath. ”You are not my brother.”

”Half brother, Purebred,” Twitch said snidely. ”Go on, tell him, Augusta. Tell him what we've known for years: an indiscretion hidden to spare you all the scandal. But then again, what's wrong with a little secret shared between kin?”

Colt swayed with uncertainty. His eyes flashed to mine, as if asking if I was part of the ruse. Speechless, I shook my head to a.s.sure him I was as shocked as he. He then turned his eyes to Aunt Augusta, who leaned against the pillar, her hand pressed to her breast. She did not deny the words, her silence confirming the truth.

Colt bolted toward his horse. With one leap, he was up in the saddle. I cried out his name, not wanting him to leave. I ached to comfort the despair that twisted his face. He spurred his stallion into an instant gallop.

”Colt!” I cried out again, but he charged down the road toward town, his stallion kicking up clods of mud in its wake. Twitch walked a few steps across the yard, enjoying the view. When he turned back in the direction of the porch, he stared at us with the gleam of a man holding four aces in a poker game. He tongued a pinch of snuff beneath his lower lip, then spit it out. ”What's a little secret between kin? Ain't that right, Augusta?”

Aunt Augusta took me by the arm and abruptly steered me to the door. It was as though there was a threat veiled in his words, but in all the confusion, I had no time to make sense of it. His taunting gaze glimmered at me and stayed in my mind's eye long after the door closed behind me.

Chapter 26.

Oh, dear Colt . . . my treasured friend, my devoted family. What state of mind must you be in? How I longed to have Winston drive me into town so I could be by his side and ease the pain cast upon him. Although she shared my concern, Aunt Augusta forbade me from going after him. My intention was to disregard her decree until she stressed the danger posed to Livie and her child if the fever was to follow me home. How I longed to have Winston drive me into town so I could be by his side and ease the pain cast upon him. Although she shared my concern, Aunt Augusta forbade me from going after him. My intention was to disregard her decree until she stressed the danger posed to Livie and her child if the fever was to follow me home.

As shocked as I was with the revelation, the fact that Uncle Mooney shared improprieties with a married woman did not surprise me. The memory of him on top of Fatima was all I needed to accept the possibility. Deep down inside, I knew Colt could come to terms with the indiscretion; however, learning Twitch was his half brother brought with it more than emotional upheaval. The reality also meant that he faced a lifetime at odds with Twitch over decisions, both personal and business-related, with regard to the plantation. I cannot imagine the distress of being joined at the hip with my lifelong nemesis.

”Shoot,” Livie declared upon my confiding the secret. ”It's like lookin' over yo' shoulder and seein' a worm crawl out yo' a.s.s. You see'd it come from the same body, but it be so vile and wicked, you can't believe you and he is made o' the same blood.”

As distressed as I was, Livie's vivid portrayal of the situation made me smile. She had a way of interjecting humor into any situation, which kept my troubles from overwhelming me. She often told me it was easy to cry tears of pain, or drop to your knees when under heavy burden, but a good laugh now and again not only soothed the soul, but was a sure sign of unyielding inner strength. She was right.

”Mista Colt will be fine,” Livie said nonchalantly as she b.u.t.toned the back of my blouse as I dressed. ”He ain't the first to learn of a b.a.s.t.a.r.d brother, 'specially on a plantation. Some find out the slave chilluns they played with when they was pint-sized was really their own flesh and blood. Lies and secrets can be hard to reconcile, but sometimes 'tain't the lie itself that brings on the grief. It's the knowin' you been lied to that delivers you the most hurtin'.”

A pang of guilt rose inside of me. ”Lord knows I am not defending Uncle Mooney, but perhaps concealing the truth was meant to protect Colt.”

”Protect him from what?” Livie said, arching her eyebrow.

”Well, perhaps shame. Or worry. Maybe even insecurity.”

Livie chuckled and shook her head. ”White people sho' is scared of the strangest things. Them ain't nothin' but feelings. Try facin' a whip 'cuz yo' cotton basket is an ounce or two short o' pickin's. Don't matter if you is sick with fever or round with child; it be no protection from twenty lashes. Ever been surrounded by a pa.s.sel of paddy rollers jes' because you dared to stroll in the evenin' air? Now, them's a sight to stand yo' hair on end. So is the sight of a screamin' slave child as his mama and daddy is dragged off to auction. Now, them is souls that need protection. Not feelings. Slave folk ain't scared o' feelings. We embrace 'em, good and bad, 'cuz our feelings is the only rightful things we have that is all our own.”

”Sorry, Liv,” I said with some deserved humility. ”I sometimes forget how insulated I am from harsh struggle.”

”Guess when you is born a slave, you learn mighty quick there is no protection from what life means to bring yo' way,” she said earnestly. ”You jes' learn to face it as best you can. Mista Colt is a better man than Ma.r.s.e. Nothin' is gonna change that fact. What white folks think is protectin' is jes' a cowardly way of bidin' fo' time. Only makes the truth harder to swallow when it's served up to you. Keepin' him in the dark left him unprepared. Shouldn't do such a thing to someone you care about.”

I took Livie's hand tenderly in mine. ”What about between friends?”

”Shouldn't be no truth hidden between friends neither.”

I hugged Livie tightly, afraid of what was to follow. ”Will you forgive me for being white?”

”What?” Livie was thoroughly confused and flabbergasted.

”What I mean is, please forgive me for trying to protect you from your feelings. They are yours and no one else's. I have no right to keep them from you, even though Marcus asked me not to tell you.”

”Marcus!”

”Marcus is alive.” I smiled through tender eyes. ”He was here.”