VIII

Hosea rolled his neck, trying to loosen the muscles in his back. It had been nearly two weeks, and the strips had just begun to heal. To his right, Emmett wrote in a journal, the mark on his arm little more than a scab now. Behind them, Matthew sulked. His bruising following his father’s beating had healed well, though he kept his arms crossed, his head down, and a hood over it on a bright and warm April afternoon. Hosea thought he looked more like his grandfather in this moment than Emmett ever had, with the exception of the sunken eyes and visible ribs.

He pulled on the reins as the road veered left toward Fredericksburg. The ride had been smooth up to this point, but here the war had put holes in the ground that slowed their progress. Hosea found himself thinking over the last ten days as he drove them along.

Master Emmett had let him rest for the first five. He and Zella both. When he was back in the barn with Lee, Hosea noticed that Master Emmett hardly took his eyes off the woods now.

He’d seen glimpses of Caroline here and there. Someone had dropped a plate of hot food just outside their quarters, and he could only assume that it was her. He let the others eat most of it, his body hadn’t adjusted to healing well enough yet.

Each day he heard Matthew with his whip on the outside. It had gotten more frequent, the screaming in the fields. Each day Wiley or Clyde, or both, would come back with fresh bruises. They would collapse into their rickety mattresses and fall asleep immediately. Zella had to wake them for the fresh food when she found it.

Eveline had turned back to her old self. The color had come back to her face, and she was out in the garden once again. She, like Emmett, seemed to be wary of the woods. She’d claimed to have forgotten about the incident completely, or so he’d heard from Lee. Zella noticed that she now avoided the trinket on Master Emmett’s mantle, if at all possible.

“Momma asked Eve why she was in the woods,” Lee told him on their first day back together. “Do you know why Eve was in the woods?”

“No, sir, I do not,” Hosea lied.

“That’s what Eve said too.” He went back to brushing Mo, pushing dirt from his copper hair. “Why’d my daddy hurt you?”

“Your daddy did what he had to do, sir. Keep that hand steady, and don’t stand behind the horse now.”

As they approached town, Hosea could feel eyes on him. It was unusual to find a bondsman riding the wagon, more often they would be walking in front of the horses, leading. Perhaps in a saddle, if they’re lucky enough.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where to go, would you, sir?” Hosea asked. He’d been through Fredericksburg many times, but never for a milk cow.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m just as lost as you. We could go back to Mr. Thompson, but I can’t imagine having to tell him we need it back, and Lee would never part with Mo.” He watched the side of the road, as homes became less intermittent and shops began to appear along street corners. “Seems the town has come back.”

“Sure has, sir,” Hosea said, though there was hesitation in his voice.

They rode through town. Burned husks lined the streets the further along they went. Shattered windows that still hadn’t been repaired, doors hung loose with darkness lying inside. Stones still lay across the streets, and Hosea had to maneuver the horses around them.

Nobody stepped out of their homes to greet the strangers. With each passing street, Hosea felt the emptiness of the city surrounding him. Caravans were few and far, with farmers from nearby regions seemingly the only groups still active. Them and the army.

A group of soldiers approached and called for Hosea to stop. Two trained their rifles on him, while a third approached Emmett from the side.

“State your business,” he said.

“Looking to buy a cow in town. Landry clan needs one.”

“He a Landry?” the soldier asked, thumbing toward Hosea.

“He’s a hand.”

“All right. Stay on the west side of town, Yankees are to the east. Just keep your head down, don’t make too much noise, and don’t let the negro wander off and you’ll have no problems.”

“Could you point us in the direction of a market?”

Hosea noticed a creaking behind him, but dared not turn around.

“Two streets up take a turn south, they’ve got some goods there some days. If it’s livestock you’re looking for, try Wilkes, if he ain’t lost it all yet.”

Emmett reached back and pushed Matthew firmly back into his seat. “Thank you. We’ll be on our way.”

Hosea whipped the horses into motion, and cringed as he did it. They set off in a walk, passing by the three soldiers—two of which still had their arms trained on him—and another larger group on the corner. He drove them two streets and turned right.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get more than one, sir?” Hosea asked. “How do we know the dead one didn’t infect the others?”

“We’re going to have to pray it didn’t, I don’t have the money for more than one right now,” Emmett said. They drew to a stop where the stalls began. “Small crowd.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Matthew, stay with the wagon please.” Emmett pulled himself off the bench and left his journal behind. “Hosea, come with me.”

“As you wish.” Hosea climbed down, his back burning with each step until he reached the gravel below. He stretched, and felt his skin tear beneath his shirt. He winced, but said nothing.

Emmett handed Matthew a rifle—who gripped it eagerly—before beckoning Hosea forward. They entered the still market with little hope, eyes wandering from stall to stall waiting for a glimpse of livestock, or the name “Wilkes.”

They passed stands full of grain and meat. Firearms and munitions. While the sun shone, and the air was warm, the people of Fredericksburg were covered in dust and dirt. Their hands shook, their bodies were thin, and Hosea guessed most had only recently developed their grey hair.

“So few people,” Emmett said.

“Just the ones who can’t leave,” Hosea replied. “I’ve seen it before. People who are under attack but call that land their home, they’re not likely to leave. Either that, or they have no other options.”

“Hardly any money to move, hardly any munitions to fight. Poor bastards.”

“At least they get to choose,” Hosea muttered.

They walked to the end of the road and back, taking note of anyone who may have knowledge of where they might get what they were looking for. Several stalls held signs for farms, but most were barely full, deserted, or simply not selling agricultural goods.

“Why don’t you walk down again and I’ll start asking around,” Emmett said.

“Sir, you want me to walk by my lonesome down this road?”

“I’ll be in earshot, and if anyone asks, you belong to me.” Emmett walked back to the wagon, where Matthew was scraping his fingernails against the stock of the rifle. He took the journal and ripped out a page, and scribbled something in pencil. He folded the paper and tucked it into Hosea’s shirt pocket. “Take that, if there are questions just show it.”

“Yes, sir,” Hosea said.

“But be careful!” Emmett called as he walked away. “And don’t go running off too far!”

Hosea made his rounds again. The street was long, and the further he got from the wagon the longer it felt. He inspected each stall closely, looking for the name Wilkes. When he got far enough away, he pulled the slip of paper from his chest. “PROPERTY OF EMMETT LANDRY,” it read.

“Some property,” a voice said. Deep, and gravelly. “Property that can run away, don’t seem like property to me.”

Hosea turned, seeing the hulking figure towering above him. Veins coated his arms where muscle tried to burst through his skin. They were crossed over a chest that had puffed out, and his neck bulged where a whip had once curved itself around his back. The sun reflected off his bald head, and his dark eyes met Hosea’s.

“By that logic, horses and pigs and chickens wouldn’t be property neither.”

The man laid a hand on his shoulder, took the note, and ripped it up.

“You’re looking young for an old man,” Hosea said.

“And you’re looking old for a young one.”

“It’s good to see you, Mal,” Hosea said, embracing the hulking figure. Mal patted him twice on the back and pushed him away.

“Can’t let the overseers catch us hatching an escape plan,” Mal said, rubbing his scar. “Might get another whipping.”

“Overseers? That’s new for you.”

“I’ve read a few books since I last saw you.”

“You can read?”

Mal burst out laughing, drawing attention from a nearby stand. “Hell no I can’t read. What do you think this is? These white devils wouldn’t give me a book.”

“We thought maybe you’d made it north.” “I did, until those marshal bastards caught me and brought me back south. Soon as these white men catch my ass they sold me down in Carolina, don’t know which one, I think it was north. Soon after that I was in Richmond, and after that I been running around for the war effort. Who put out that notice?”

“Sheckle did, I think.”

“Thomas? He still in charge over there?”

“His boy is. You remember Jim? Now Jim got a son named Thomas too.”

“Sheckle house is gonna rule that county forever I reckon,” Mal said. “I figured it would’ve been him. Wynn didn’t have the stones.”

“Not after you hung him he didn’t.”

Malachi’s eyes opened wide in shock.

“I heard you naming names in your sleep, Mal. First Barnes, then Carroll, then Wynn. Don’t deny, I got you comin’ in the cabin soaked in blood. Emmett even saw you comin’ back from the Barnes farm late one night.”

Mal grew quiet, he put a giant hand around Hosea’s arm and pulled him to a shadowed corner. “How’d you hear about that?”

“You woke me up when you came in.”

“You tell anyone about that?” Malachi’s voice was made of bricks. Solid, and strong. Hosea remembered how he used to try to quiet himself, to limit the echo. Master Landry—Wynn—would always say if he heard a peep out of the black giant he would shove the tobacco he picked down his throat.

“Not a soul. Emmett knows now, though. He knows you killed them, all three. I’m sorry, Mal, didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I didn’t kill ‘em, Hosea. I was tryna save ‘em.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You know the dreams I got. You know how I see things. I was seeing these white men dead. Poor ‘ole Mr. Barnes nailed to a tree. I dreamt it before it happened, at least I think I did. Man was screaming in my head three nights before I found him there.”

“You kept saying his name, none of us knew why. Next week we found him dead.”

“It wasn’t even nails, Hosea, it was bones. Little tiny animal bones that went right through his hands, put them high above his head and through his throat, just pinnin’ him there. I tried to pull him down but he was already dead. Not long dead, but dead.”

“What about Carroll?”

“He hung himself I think, I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t him, but it sure as hell wasn’t me. I didn’t touch that man, didn’t try to save him neither, just let him hang. Violent son of a bitch, that one, he deserved it.”

“But why did you dream of it?”

“Why did I dream of Mr. Landry? Why did I dream of that horse kicking poor Solm? Why did I dream of twenty-two headstones where two rivers meet? I don’t know, Hosea. All I knew was the man was going to die, and I went to try to stop it. When I found he was dead, I found I didn’t much care.”

“So why did you run, if it wasn’t for Wynn?”

“I ran to find a better life. We talked about it all the time. You, me, Jenny, Solm. We always talked about taking off, building a proper home. Getting away from them woods, and those nightmares they gave me. You were the only one held back.”

“So you just took off?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not thinking about the repercussions for the rest of us?”

“Not even a little bit.” He paused. “Even so, I promise you, I had it worse.”

“I think Solm may have had it the worst with that damn horse,” Hosea said, getting a chuckle out of Malachi.

The light crowd continued to dwindle. Hosea could see down the road Emmett talking

with another merchant.

“Look, you better scare before Emmett sees you. Aside from the fact that he’ll probably kill you, he might try to take you back.”

“Can’t take me from the army, unless he’s got one of his own.”

“It was good to see you, Mal. Hope you find that home you dreamt of.”

“Hosea, wait,” Mal warned. He reached out to grab him by the shoulder, planting him in

place. “I know your history with those mountains. I know about the woman in black and the warnings you give. I need to give you one of my own. There’s something coming for your family, and I don’t just mean the masters. If it was, I might not warn you.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You, the brothers, the one that I can’t pronounce but I think it's a girl. Them, and the whites. And I know you care about the kids, probably the same way you cared about Emmett when he was a young master, I’m just tryna warn you.”

“I think I knew that already, but thank you.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know half of it. It never got to you. Not like it did me. That thing never got its claws so deep into you that it bled you, or gave you nightmares. Well, it did, but someone saved you first. Hosea, I’m telling you right now, run. Run or die. I’m glad I did. I suffered for it, but that suffering is a walk through The Garden compared to this thing. I know you know.”

“Run or die?” he asked, but the giant slipped back into the side street, blocking the setting sun with his massive frame.

“Wait!” Hosea called, suddenly remembering his task. “Do you know a Mr. Wilkes?”

Malachi shook his head. “If it’s livestock you’re looking for, you won’t find it in town anymore. Mr. Wilkes moved down to Richmond, too dangerous up near the border.” He waved, turning around and hurrying back down the alley.

Run… or die. The words resonated in his mind as Hosea turned and ran headlong into Emmett.

“Find anything?” he asked.

Hosea rubbed his neck. “Nothing but some information,” he managed. “Mr. Wilkes no longer resides in Fredericksburg, sir. He moved to Richmond, and it seems we’re going to be heading home empty handed.”

Emmett peered around him and down the street, staring into the sun. “You meet a new friend?”

“Not quite.”

The master bent over and picked up the torn pieces of his note. He gently placed them back into Hosea’s pocket, patting his chest, and began walking back to the wagon.