XV

“Please can we just wait for daddy?” Eveline cried. Her tears hadn’t stopped since Emmett ran out the front door, and for that Caroline was grateful. At least one of her children would be spared. She stuffed her daughter’s nightgown into the overflowing sack.

“No, baby, we need to pack you now.” Even with the chill in the air Caroline dripped in sweat. Her hands shook. She thought about taking a breath, but felt queasy when the consequences came to mind. She’d heard three shots echo through the hill already. “Zella, where’s the grain?”

“In the sack by the door, ma’am,” the girl replied. “I put the meats in the wagon already, I checked that it’s stored proper.”

“Wiley and Clyde?” Caroline asked.

“Watching the wagon and the house.”

“And each other?”

Zella nodded, and Caroline extended her hand. Zella pulled the pistol from her borrowed pants and laid it in her palm.

“No, girl, your hand.”

“Ma’am?”

“Give me your hand.”

Zella laid her fingers across Caroline’s wrist, and Caroline took Eveline’s hand in hers. She squeezed them both, fearing she might leave marks across their skin. “Listen here, the both of you. There are dangers across these roads, especially here. The further north, the safer it is, but never let your guard down. Especially you, Zella.”

“Please leave with us,” Eveline said.

“No, baby. I have to wait for your father and brothers. We can’t waste any more time with you. I should have sent you away weeks ago. Make it to Aquia Landing, you can find a steamboat to take you north. Move around Fredericksburg, don’t go through, and only turn back if you absolutely must.”

“What about you?” Zella asked.

“I’m just waiting for my husband, I’ll be right behind you.” She gripped them a little tighter. “But watch out for each other while you’re away, and we’ll meet you in New York.”

“They’re here!” A voice called from beyond the four walls. Caroline let go of the girls and waited for the heavy footsteps to come closer. Clyde arrived, stretching one of Emmett’s shirts across his wide chest. “Ma’am, your boy is back,” he said.

She raced out of the house. Clyde shrank against the wall, out of her way. Off in the darkness Caroline watched as Wiley ran alongside a galloping horse, throwing glances over his shoulder and pumping his legs as hard as they would go. She stayed on the porch, allowing them to approach her.

Hosea slowed them down early, holding the reins with one hand and her son with the other. He dismounted first, in a hurry, and gently brought Lee to the ground. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled to her in a daze. She extended her arm and pulled his body in quicker, kissing the scratches running along his cheeks.

“Where did you find him?”

“Fletcher Farm. Your husband shot the woman, they’re still out there, I’m going to ride back out and—”

“No,” Caroline interrupted. “I need you here, with them. Get Mo on the wagon and have Wiley and Clyde take the others when it's time. Everybody is going north.”

“Ma’am, they’re still out there.”

A fourth shot rang out across the hills. Caroline looked to the east and felt her heart sink. She looked for a flash of light, a pillar of smoke, but there was nothing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eveline jerk back, rubbing her shoulder.

“Not anymore,” she whispered to him. “And we’re out of time.”

A fifth shot. Sharper this time.

“If we’re out of time you should come with us.”

“Don’t go through Fredericksburg. There’s a point in the river that’s waist-deep, just a couple miles down. Cross there, and ride north. Don’t take the wagon, I’ve changed my mind, ride doubles on horseback. Take a steamboat to New York and meet with my family. Joseph Cutter is my father’s name, he’ll take my children in and find you work. He will know your names.”

“Ma’am—”

“No ‘ma’am,’ just Caroline. I’m no master of yours, but if I were I would be telling you to go north and leave this place. You understand?”

Hosea stared at her. She leaned inside, pulling a sack of grain from the house, and handed it to him. “Zella loaded some meat in the wagon. Take what you can carry, I’ve given the boys Emmett’s old clothes, but leave anything that slows you down. Everyone is packed, even Lee.”

He nodded and wrapped a hand gently around her son’s shoulders. “We gotta go, son. Come here, back up on Mo.” He lifted the boy onto the horse and climbed up himself, struggling to throw the sack over his shoulder.

“Momma?” Eveline called. She ignored her daughter, instead waving Wiley and Clyde to the door.

“You both take a horse and a girl. Stay awake until daybreak, and even then someone must keep watch. It’s three days to Aquia Landing, two if you hurry, and you best hurry.”

The boys rushed off to the barn. Caroline could feel the sobs coming from her daughter, but she waited until they had returned with the horses to face her. She turned around and wrapped her arms around Eveline’s head. She ran her fingers through her hair, and pushed her toward Clyde. Eveline struggled from his grasp, clinging to her mother’s hand, before he lifted her atop Opal, who snorted with discomfort. Clyde gripped his saddle, and with one hand holding her still he climbed up. They began to ride away with Hosea and Lee.

“Wait!” Eveline cried. She threw her head back and pushed Clyde forward, nearly off the saddle. “It’s not him! It’s not him!”

She threw her legs around the side Opal and pushed herself off, but Clyde wrapped an arm around her torso before she hit the ground. “It’s not him! Mommy! It’s not him! It’s not him!”

“Take care of your brother, love,” Caroline called, struggling to keep her voice steady. Eveline punched and kicked in Clyde’s arms, but a mother knows when her child relents. Eveline slowed, giving in to Clyde’s larger hands.

“You’ll meet us in New York, right?” Zella asked, wearily.

“Yes.” Caroline’s voice quivered. “I’ll be there, one way or another.”

Wiley helped Zella mount and followed after her. Caroline held them in place for a moment.

“Please take care of my Eveline. Of both of them. You’ll all be free soon.”

She let go of the horse, and they rode off into the darkness, turning east on the road. Hosea pushed them faster until they turned the bend and were gone.

—

The fire warmed her back, if nothing else. She supposed that was something. The house had grown colder and colder in the last hour. Her breath fogged the air worse than nature fogged this night, though Caroline knew the cold was not natural.

She kicked at the straw by her feet. She’d lined the house with it, around the lips where the walls met the floor. Most had come from the bedding—the slips that had been used to carry grain and clothes left debris across the bedrooms—and she’d found a use for it after all. Some came from the barn, but she couldn’t haul as much as she’d wanted in the time she had.

It stacked up to the cloth hanging in front of the windows and underneath each bedroom door. She sat in the middle of the room, facing the spot in the floor where a hole used to be and her open front entryway, waiting. She had two pistols and her father-in-law’s old rifle, fixed with his bayonet. Her husband’s axe lay next to the firearms, still chipped.

By now her family would be crossing the Rapidan River. Her directions put them no more than half of an hour down the road. With any luck they would run into no armies—Union or Confederate—until they reached the port. By then, perhaps they would be safe.

Scritch.

Caroline raised herself up, straining her ears. She focused on the sound she knew all too well now.

Scritch—scritch.

“You can come out now,” she called.

The front door slammed shut and slowly creaked open again. Against the bourbon wood a pale hand pushed. Her dress was newly ripped, exposing more of her wrinkled body in the firelight. Her hair still hung heavy, and her nails still ran long, but Caroline could feel something different emanating from her.

“I thought Hosea’s stories were fairy tales,” Caroline said, trying her best to hold back the tears. “Told to scare children into behaving. Imagine my surprise to find I’m no brighter than one.”

The woman waved a finger. Caroline bent at the knee, taking a pistol in her left hand while the axe held her right. She stood and walked toward the woman, her knuckles white. A firm hand reached out, gripped her arm, and spun her. She stiffened, and the woman shook her, pointing outside.

Matthew stood in the field. He was perfectly still. He held his rifle by the barrel, with its butt in the mud.

“Me…” the woman said. With the word came a stench that Caroline associated with hog dung. The woman shook her again. “Me…” her voice was lighter, but barely more than a whisper.

Matthew hunched over and heaved. He expelled a black liquid from his mouth and went back to standing straight. Caroline fought against the woman's grip and tore herself free, and found the woman to be standing taller than she had been, a single eye growing wide behind her veil.

“Where is my husband?”

The woman pointed a shaking blood-stained hand out the door. She pointed to Matthew, and turned her hand sideways. Her arm lifted suddenly and her neck bent, and underneath her black hair Caroline saw her rotting teeth and her pale blue eyes growing wide.

She lifted the pistol and pulled the trigger. She didn’t waste time watching her shot, instead diving for her hearth and with her bare hands pulled out the burning logs. The straw ignited, and just as Caroline reached for the webbed ornament on the mantle she felt something crash into her back. Her head split against the stone and one eye snapped shut, but her grip held. She cast the sticks and bones into the fire.

As she turned around, the woman raised a clawed hand and brought it down against her face.

Caroline screamed, reaching for another pistol. She brought it to the woman’s neck and shot. The woman flew backward, landing atop the rifle. Caroline rushed for her door, slamming it shut as she saw Matthew running forward. She drove her axe against the wood, pinning the head against the corner of the door, embedding it into the house. Matthew pounded against the wood, the door bulging against his weight.

The woman stood, and shrieked. A ringing erupted in Caroline’s head, and she clapped against her ears while all other noises faded. Warm liquid rushed between her fingers, and her hand came away red. The woman charged, and Caroline was pinned to the wall as blades tore across her torso. She screamed until her voice suddenly went out. She could feel the blood pulsing out of her.

She pushed back against the woman, crawling to the rifle left on the ground. The woman lifted her by the feet, throwing her against the ceiling and back toward the hearth. She lunged, cutting at Caroline’s legs as she felt the strength dissipate from them.

She turned to her back, pointed the barrel of the rifle up, and fired. The woman stopped, and Caroline took her chance. She thrust the rifle forward, the bayonet attached to the end piercing the woman’s thin skin and the wooden wall behind her.

Caroline fell, watching the woman pull at the weapon inside of her. The pale woman cried, her legs flailing as the flames licked at her dress. The room began to grow hotter, and glass shattered near the door. Caroline looked to the window and found Matthew’s face. She prayed that his wails were for her as the darkness took hold.