“The slave hunters have them. I couldn’t save them and you. I was unarmed and it was five to one.”
“We cannot abandon them.”
“Do you honestly think I would?”
Nate cradled her head in his lap and caressed her hair and said softly, “I went berserk. The very thing I have warned Zach about time and again.”
“Where do you think he got it from? He is more like you than he is willing to admit.” Winona grasped his hand and closed her eyes. “Tell me. Do I look as terrible as I feel?”
“You would scare infants.”
Winona started to laugh but stopped. “Don’t do that, Husband. It hurts too much.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
For a while they lightly touched and lightly kissed and then Winona said, “And you were right, Husband.”
“About what?”
“They must die. Especially the one who hurt me the most, that Olan. I will cut out his heart while he is still alive and show it to him as he dies.”
“Only if you get to him before I do.”
In all his born days Samuel Worth had never seen the like. The mountain man had torn through the slave hunters like a tornado through a cotton field. Samuel yearned to have fought at Nate’s side, but bound as he was, all he could do was lie helpless with frustration and give a whoop of joy when Nate made it into the woods with Winona in his arms.
“Lordy!” Emala exclaimed. She had seen it but couldn’t believe it. That one man could do all that. As near as she could tell, he got away without a scratch. The hand of Providence, she decided, and gave inward thanks.
Chickory was speechless with amazement. He had seen only a few violent acts, and none were like this. It reminded him of the Bible stories his ma used to read to him. Stories in which Samson or David or Joshua would smite their enemies, hip and thigh.
Randa was glad Mr. and Mrs. King got away. Now she was worried for her parents and her brother. The slave hunters were in a foul mood. They had recovered and a few were on their feet. They looked fit to kill anyone who glanced at them crosswise.
Olan swore and continued swearing until Wesley snapped at him in anger.
“Enough, damn you. All he did was wallop you on the jaw.” Wesley spat blood and bits of broken teeth.
Trumbo had a huge hand over the center of his face. “I’ve got a busted nose, Wes. I can hardly breathe.”
“Breathe through your mouth then.”
“Oh. I forgot. Thanks.”
Bromley sat up, his hands over his crotch. “That son of a bitch. He about ruined me for women.”
“He’s a panther, that one,” Kleist said. “The next time we run into him, we’ll shoot him on sight.”
Olan said, “We’ve seen the last of him and good riddance. Now that he’s got his woman, he’ll leave us be.”
“No, he won’t,” Wesley said, scarlet leaking from a corner of his mouth. “He’ll be back. Him and his sqaw both.” He nodded at the Worths. “We have something they want.”
“That’s right!” Olan declared, and brightened. “Do you know what this means? We can set a trap for them. See to it his mouth-and nose-busting days are over.”
“He won’t be easy,” Kleist remarked.
“He broke my nose,” Trumbo said.
Wesley pressed ran a hand across his bloody mouth. “Olan’s right. We need to figure out how to draw them in, and we need to do it right.”
“We did it right the first time,” Bromley said.
“Tell that to my mouth.”
Emala cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Wesley, sir, I have something to say.”
“You have nerve, darkie. Keep it short. I’m not in the mood for any of your simpleminded shenanigans.”
“Don’t call her that,” Samuel said.
“Which? Darkie? Or simpleminded? Not that it matters. She’s both. And I’ll call her what ever I damn well please.”
“Don’t bicker over me,” Emala said quickly, to spare Samuel a possible beating. To Wesley she said, “I don’t want any harm to come to the Kings on our account.”
“You don’t, huh?”
“No. So how about if we leave them a message?” Emala proposed. “You got any paper in those packs? And somethin’ I can write with? I’ll say they should go on to the mountains and leave us in God’s hands.”
Samuel said sharply, “You’ll do no such thing, woman, you hear?”
“It’s for their sakes,” Emala said.
Wesley thoughtfully regarded her. “You really think they would do as you ask?”
“They’ve become good friends these past weeks. They’ll do as I ask if I ask real nice.”
Now it was Olan who objected. “Don’t listen to her. We want the Kings to come after us so we can pay that big bastard back for what he did to us.”
“Next time you might get more than a bop on the jaw,” Emala warned. “Did you think of that?”
“I ain’t scared of Nate King,” Olan boasted.
“Then you’re a fool.”
“That mountain man is a hellacious fighter,” Trumbo said.
Emala stared at Wesley. “So, what will you do? Will you or won’t you let me?”
Wesley came and stood over her. “Oh, you’ll get to write Nate King a note, all right. But it won’t be what you were going to write. You’ll say what I tell you.”
“What would that be?”
“You’ll beg King and his squaw to help you. You’ll say you’re afraid of what will happen to your husband when we get him back to the plantation. You’ll say the Kings are your only hope, and to come quick.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
Wesley pointed his rifle at Chickory and put his thumb on the hammer. “You’ll do it or you’ll be shy a son.”
“We’re worth more money to you alive,” Emala countered. “You said so yourself.”
“Money I can’t spend if I’m dead.” Wesley pressed the muzzle to Chickory’s temple, and Chickory flinched. “I’ll gladly give up some of it to be sure I live to collect the rest.”
Emala stared at her son and then at the rifle and then at the slave hunter holding it. “You’re a vile man.”
“Is that a no?”
“Don’t shoot. I’ll write your note, but I’ll hate every word you make me say.” Emala’s eyes moistened.
Wesley motioned to Trumbo. “Go look in the packs for the paper.”
“What I want to know,” Olan said, “is how you aim to get this note to Nate King? It’s not as if we know where to find him.”
“We don’t have to. He’ll come to us.” Wesley walked to the center of the clearing. “We’ll pound a stick in the ground right here. We’ll split one end and put the note in it. King will come along, read it, and light out after us hell-bent to rip out our guts.”
“What good does that do us?” Olan asked.
“Don’t you see? We’ll find a perfect spot for an ambush, and he’ll be so fired up to save the darkies, he’ll waltz right into our guns’sights.”
“I like it,” Olan said. “I like it a lot.”
“I pray to God that Nate doesn’t fall for it,” Emala said.
“Quit with the God talk, woman,” Olan said. “I don’t believe in that stuff. There’s no God Almighty and there’s no hereafter. As Nate King and his wife will find out soon enough.”
Chapter Seventeen
They jogged tirelessly for hours. They were both in superb condition, but Winona had to stop now and again. Once, she apologized, saying, “I am sorry, Husband. The pain.”
“You’re holding up fine.”
Nate would wait, Winona would nod, and they would set out again.