Chapter 29
Morning Fawn clutched Devon’s hand as they made their way along the path through the woods.
A small, hooded lantern swung in his other hand, emitting a narrow beam of light only wide enough to keep them from tripping over roots and other obstacles.
Lucy walked behind them, humming softly to herself.
The wedding had been a success. Ned’s owner had given him a travel pass as a Christmas present, either out of kindness or to spite LeBeau, but it didn’t matter.
There’d been a wedding. The Unionist-leaning preacher Devon had procured backed out earlier in the day, probably afraid for his life.
In his stead, Pastor Combs, a circuit rider who traveled the state secretly preaching to slaves, performed the ceremony.
Morning Fawn had never seen the likes of such singing and dancing.
They’d gathered on the back edge of the property near the creek where they could celebrate without fear of overseers or masters.
The songs had spoken of a faith so deep that chains couldn’t bind it nor slavery smother it.
And the dancing? Her heart had soared free to the stars as Devon swung her around the bare ground. What would her own wedding be like?
“Watch your step.” Devon ducked under a branch, and she did likewise.
Lucy caught up to them. “Maybe we’d best stop here so I can go behind one of these bushes and change.”
“No.” Morning Fawn squinted at the white floral-print gown showing beneath Lucy’s dark cloak. “I want you to keep the dress. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I gave it to you as a Christmas present. Even my uncle plans to give out gifts tomorrow to all the hands.”
“Slaves, you mean.” Lucy corrected her. “But I owe you two the world.” She squeezed Morning Fawn’s hand, her smile gleaming in the dark. “Me and Ned won’t forget. If you need anything, you just say so. And that house you told us about—”
“I’m thankful we could help. Just keep it quiet for now.” Devon slipped his arm around Morning Fawn’s shoulders. “You didn’t tell Ned the house number yet, did you?”
“No, sir. I just told him we was working on a plan.” A few tendrils of hair escaped from Lucy’s chignon and bounced on her shoulders. “I’ll wait until Miss Morning Fawn up and disappears before we sneak off.”
“Thank you.” Devon rubbed the back of his neck. “Morning Fawn and I could use your prayers. As she mentioned, I can’t share details, but I have some important work to take care of in the next few days. I won’t be back, and neither will she after she leaves.”
“The Lord bless you.” Lucy touched Morning Fawn’s sleeve.
The tree limbs rustled as a burst of wind rattled through the grove, stinging Morning Fawn’s cheeks and earlobes.
“Storm coming.” Devon tugged his collar up to his chin. “We best get back. I’ll keep to the tree line while you two go ahead. But after the fine dinner they had this evening and the drinks, I imagine they’re all as fast asleep as when we snuck out.”
“And tomorrow Massar will sit on his front steps giving out hand-me-downs and fresh meat, acting like he’s Santi Claus.
” Lucy kept pace. “But everybody knows New Year’s is just ’round the corner.
Heartbreak Day. Thank the Lord Ned and me don’t have to worry about being sold or rented out this year. ”
Leaves and twigs, coated in frost, crunched beneath their feet as they moved along the path. An owl hooted.
Morning Fawn’s heart chilled. Tomorrow night was the ball and Nicholas.
Tomorrow night was life or death. She’d faced danger for herself and loved ones countless times with the Comanche.
Had she gone soft in this settler world?
Or was it that she’d never so completely given her heart away? Tomorrow could destroy her.
They came to the clearing. To the left, music rang out from the slave quarters.
Some had already returned from the wedding, ready to celebrate the beginning of five days off.
All was quiet at the blacksmith shop and the other work buildings.
Across the fields, glimmers of light peeked through the cottonwoods that flanked the main house.
It should be dark, and had been so when they left at ten.
Devon tensed and halted, his hold on her hand tightening. “Something’s wrong.”
He retreated into the shadows of the trees. Morning Fawn followed suit, with Lucy at her side.
“Maybe one of them came looking for me.” Lucy hung her head. “I…I can tell ’em I came down to the quarter to celebrate Christmas.”
“Might be more than that.” A hard breath swooshed between Devon’s teeth.
A bitter taste rose in the back of Morning Fawn’s throat.
What if Thea had seen or heard something?
Or maybe Nick had received word from his agents and decided to believe them?
“It might be nothing more than Christmas visitors come to stay the night, or maybe one of the slaves got in trouble.” Her voice sounded about as solid as an uncooked egg.
Devon clicked the lantern hood shut. Darkness dropped around them except for the glow from the quarters and the muted moonlight peaking from behind a fist of clouds. Silence reigned, except for the wind, and a pig snorting from the pen by the barn.
Devon turned to Morning Fawn. “I feel like it’s real trouble.
” He gripped her shoulders. “I can’t take a chance that it’s not.
I’ve put too much work into this mission to let it come to nothing.
” He glanced past her, frowned, and led her several feet away from Lucy, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“People have risked their freedom and their lives. My captain and my colonel are counting on me. I have a chance to make a genuine difference in this war.”
“You…you’re not thinking of striking tonight, are you?” She pressed her palms to his chest, a solid wall of warmth to steady her trembling soul. “You’re not ready. You could hide out in the woods and let Lucy and me go on to the house—”
“It might be tonight or never.”
“No.” She bunched his frock coat lapels in her hands. “What if something happens to you?”
He enveloped her in his arms and pressed his cheek to her hair. “The Lord will watch over us.”
“The Lord lets people die.” The words burst forth, shaking her to her core. “He let my mother die. She loved Him and served Him all of her life, and He let her die.”
Devon braced her shoulders. “I don’t have all the answers.
I spent a year being angry with God over Isabelle’s and the baby’s deaths.
And two years of hating myself for not doing my part.
But I know deep in my heart that God’s will and doings are beyond our comprehension.
I don’t understand why He allowed your mother or Isabelle to die—”
“He could have stepped in, but He didn’t.”
“I don’t know why He didn’t, and probably won’t know this side of Heaven.
But His Word tells us that He will work everything out for good for those who love Him and follow Him.
I’ve decided to put my trust in Him even though my stubborn heart doesn’t always understand.
And I know you’re right about Isabelle—”
“I want you to live. Here. With me. I don’t mean right here. But alive on this earth and not taking foolish chances. You stay, hide in the woods, and I’ll send you word—”
“Morning Fawn.” His firm tone hushed her.
“I can’t wait. I’m counting on you. Do everything you can to delay them.
Buy me time without implicating yourself.
As far as they’re concerned, you don’t know I’m a Yankee.
You believed the story about me spying on Moyer for the Rebs.
I was with you and Lucy at a church meeting tonight, but I left alone.
Told you I was headed home for Christmas. ”
She clung to him. “I’m not a warrior. I’m a girl who has lost too many people, and I don’t know if I trust the God of the heavens to bring you back.”
“You are strong. You can do this,” he whispered in her ear. “I need you to do this.”
She inhaled.
“The Lord will be with us. Keep telling your mind and your heart that until it takes root.”
She swallowed back her doubts. “I’ll do as you say.”
His arms loosened, enough for him to tip her face to his. He tugged his eyepatch off, both of his eyes drinking her in. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” So much that losing you would rip my heart out.
His gaze dropped to her lips. She swept her hand around his neck, shoving her fingers into his hair, and drew his mouth to hers.
His lips overtook hers with a hunger that dropped her stomach into her toes. Liquid warmth surged through her limbs as she melted against him. A kiss she never wanted to end. The world swirled. She dug her fingers into his back. Let this be tomorrow and every day afterwards—
Swoosh. He withdrew his lips, and the dream evaporated, landing her back into the not-dark-enough night, with the comfort of his arms slipping away.
“I’ve got to go. George will have a horse in the woods for you.” He stepped back, his chest heaving as if he’d run a great race. He dug in his pocket and shoved a few bills into Morning Fawn’s hand. “I’ll see you at the coast. The spot I told you about last night. I’ll wait every night for you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just make sure you get there.” Morning Fawn sniffled and lifted her chin. She would protect Devon at all costs. She would not, could not fail.
Morning Fawn blinked in the too-brilliant light of the porch. A muscular man in a gray slouch hat and buckskin coat eyed her from the hitching post where he stood. Two horses, one a fine American saddlebred, the match for Cinnamon, munched from feed sacks. Nick was here. Why? It couldn’t be good.
She dragged her feet as she neared the door and lifted the latch. Lord, help me.
LeBeau’s manservant, Jim, met her at the threshold. “Miss Beth, they’s been looking for ya.” He bobbed his gray-haired head.
She handed him her red wool cloak. “Who are they?”