“I…you woke me up and I watched.” He took in the situation. “He’s in a bad way.”
“We’re hoping to break the fever,” Bettina informed him. “Father Gabe has been putting compresses on his wound and on his head. The fever’s climbing.”
Having seen men fall in battle, John knew what happened next. “The stream isn’t far from here, is it?”
“No, it’s right behind and below,” Catherine answered.
“All right, then. Father Gabe, help me lift him up.”
Father Gabe took a big step back, afraid of the big man.
Bettina spoke for the old healer. “Tell him what you want to do.”
“Yes, forgive me. Father Gabe, the waters are cool and swift. If I hold him in them, perhaps the fever will come down. I’ve seen this done.”
The old man nodded, lifted up his rattle gourd with the colored ribbons hanging from the neck, reached toward heaven with it and then the four corners of the compass. He put the gourd down and went to the other side of Moses. He lifted up Moses’s side as best he could.
Bettina joined him, as did Catherine. Together they helped roll Moses, moaning louder, into John’s arms. Now John could stand up, his burden secure.
Catherine followed her husband down to the creek, as did Bettina. Father Gabe held Ailee back. The dark night made walking difficult, but all feared lighting a candle. The light could be hidden in the cave but not outside. Piglet led the way.
At the creek, about four feet deep at this spot, John laid down Moses, pulling off his boots and socks.
“We need to strip him,” John ordered.
Catherine knelt down to remove Moses’s pants when Bettina knelt beside her. “Let me do it, Missus. You keep watch. You and Piglet.”
John picked up the naked man, gingerly finding the best way into the water without dropping Moses, who weighed about one hundred eighty pounds. Once secure in the stream, he held one arm under the man’s back, the other under his buttocks. Moses dropped his head back. Catherine knew John possessed the strength of a bull. Now she learned how patient he was. He stayed in that stream, teeth chattering for a half hour.
“Honey, come out,” Catherine said.
“Perhaps a bit longer?” John asked.
“Long enough. Let’s get him back up and see if this has helped. If you can put him down, you can get your socks and boots on. You can’t carry him barefoot over these rocks and stones.”
John came to the edge, lifted Moses up and over. When he stepped out, Catherine used the hem of her dress to dry his feet. Bettina dropped her head rag over Moses’s genitals.
Piglet again led the way. The three could hear animals moving about. One owl called overhead, then stopped. They heard the needles on the pine branch swish.
Back at the small cave, John placed Moses on the makeshift bed. Ailee reached for him, felt his forehead. She uttered a low noise. Father Gabe put his head to his chest, listening to his heart. Then he, too, felt his forehead.
“Better,” Father Gabe said.
“Father Gabe, can you pack the wound? Anything like beeswax with all those herbs you have?”
“Yes,” Father Gabe replied.
Teeth chattering still, John sat down on the dirt. “Do you need more clothes?”
Bettina answered, “No, but if we do, they’re easy to come by.”
Catherine gently touched Ailee’s good cheek. Tears flowed again. “Ailee, we can’t save your eye, but when the swelling goes down, Father Gabe may be able to shift your broken bones back into place.”
Ailee nodded.
With his hand on Piglet’s head, John told them, “We can’t come here again. We can’t take the chance of leading someone down here like I followed Catherine. If you need something, tell me. I will place it on the high shelf in the hay barn.”
“The tack room is better,” said Catherine. “We can put whatever you need on the highest shelf there. We will never tell. When this is all over, we will never tell about this hiding place.”
John nodded in agreement.
“Bettina, come back with us. You’ve got to get some sleep. Father will notice if you’re not yourself tomorrow. He depends on you so.”
Bettina sighed. “Father Gabe, can you manage?”
He asked for the child. “Send me Tulli.”
“I will.” Bettina rose, touched Moses’s cheek, then Ailee’s. “May the Lord bless thee and keep thee.”
No one spoke until reaching the high meadow beyond the woods. Candlelight in the houses, cabins could be seen in the distance.
Bettina said, “Thank you.”
“Is Ailee all right—in her mind, I mean?” Catherine inquired.
Bettina nodded. “I think so, but she has lost the power of speech. She opens her mouth. Silence.”
Thinking ahead, John offered an idea. “If and when Moses recovers, we must get him out. How, I don’t know. There must be a way to disguise him.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Catherine remarked, tired and troubled. “There’s no way we can smuggle out Ailee. The smashed cheek, blind eye will give her away. Hiram and Dennis know about that. Sheba’s told her version of the murder to all and sundry. Rachel and I heard it at the funeral, but we heard pieces of it from others.”
“Ailee will not stand for murder,” John stoutly said. “No one has accused her of that.”
“She’ll be returned to Mrs. Selisse and Sheba,” Bettina bitterly replied. “They’ll kill her. They’ll take their sweet time about it, but they will torture and kill her.”
Catherine whispered, “I fear you’re right. When Moses is able, he can tell us what really happened.”
John looked up at the stars. “We have to separate them when the time comes. Catherine, Bettina, you do nothing. You can lose everything.”
“It’s too late for that now,” Bettina replied.
“She’s right, John. We’re all in this together.”
“No, you’re not. Bettina can pretend to be ignorant. You can, too. I can always go back to Massachusetts, even if I’m found guilty. We’ll find a way.”
“If you go to Massachusetts, I go with you.” Catherine’s voice brooked no argument. “It’s father and Rachel I worry about. We have to save Moses and Ailee and protect them, too.”
John rubbed his forehead with his right hand. “God help us.”
“He’ll have to,” Catherine said.
Saturday, July 30, 2016
Although the mercury climbed up to ninety degrees by one in the afternoon, the humidity hung at thirty-seven percent, quite unusual for Virginia in the summer.
On scaffolding, Harry and Fair started painting the outside of the equipment shed at seven A.M. Using rollers on long poles, they made quick work of it, each painting on a different side, then both painting across the broad back of the shed. The low humidity helped considerably.
Back on the ground, they stepped away to study their handiwork.
“Looks brand-new,” Fair bragged.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it does look good. We’ve still got to trim, remember, bright white.”
“Well, that can wait until tomorrow. I need to shovel an avalanche of paperwork.” He draped his arm around her shoulder. “Tell you what. If you put the paint away, clean the rollers, I’ll make lunch. I might surprise you.”
“You just did.” She smiled. “I’m assuming you want to leave the scaffolding stand?”
“Yeah, we can knock out the trim tomorrow. I don’t see the point of painting the interior support beams, do you?”
“No, the barn swallows will just poop all over them. I don’t think there’s a building on this farm except for the house that doesn’t have barn swallows. I love to watch them dart about.”
Sitting nearby in their nests for an afternoon, two couples heard Harry.