Free Daughter of Twin Oaks by Lauraine Snelling Page B

rising, pulled him to his feet. “We’ll look for another one later. See, Ophelia has breakfast about ready.”
    “Want my catepiwar.” The lower lip jutted out and his face screwed up in what Jesselynn knew could give rise to a wail fit to raise the soundest sleeper.
    “You eat, I’ll look. Come, Joshua, tell everyone your new name.” His face cleared, and he ran to stand by his hero, tugging on the man’s pants. “Meshach. Meshach.”
    “What you wants, little marse?” Meshach picked Thaddy up so they were eye to eye.
    “Me new name. Like Jessel—Jesse.” He glanced over his shoulder to see her approval. When she nodded, he smiled and turned back to his holder. He thumped his chest. “Me Joshwa.”
    Meshach nodded slowly. “Yessuh, that a fine name. We all call you Joshua, little marse. How dat?”
    “Good.” Thaddy pushed back. “Eat now.”
    Jesselynn took the plate Ophelia brought her and sat down on the wagon tongue. “Thank you.” Looking around at the sun-dappled ground, the hobbled horses grazing on the open glen, her people sitting cross-legged on the ground or on a hunk of wood and laughing softly while they ate—it all made her think more of a picnic than a flight for their lives. Or at least their horses’ lives, she corrected her meandering thoughts. Her mind skittered away from thoughts of any of them really being in danger. Only the horses.
    A crow flew overhead. His raucous announcement that there were strangers in his woods sent shivers up her back. What if they were indeed running for their lives?
    She shook her head. There you go, borrowing trouble , she scolded herself and returned Ophelia’s smile as she picked up Jesselynn’s plate. One hint of superstition like that and they’d all be moaning and crying like death was at their very door.
    She stared into the dregs of her cup. What she wouldn’t give for a cup of real coffee. The ground chickory looked like coffee, but the semblance ended there. However, it was hot and not too bitter when laced with milk. If only they had brought the cow. Instead, she hoped to buy milk along the way. Surely there would be farmers with a gallon or so of milk to sell. The cow could never have kept the pace she hoped to set, not and produce milk too.
    She emptied the sludge in the bottom of her cup out on the ground and got to her feet. One good thing, britches beat skirts any day for the walking and climbing around she needed to do to check their supplies.
    “You take de bed under de wagon”—Meshach nodded to the pallet laid out—“and sleep now. We all take turns.”
    Jesselynn nodded. Somewhere along the line Meshach had assumed the leading role here, and if she weren’t so tired, she’d talk to him about that. Right now, thoughts in any kind of order were beyond her.

    She woke with the sun in the western sky and the sound of gunfire.

Chapter Six
    “Why’d you let me sleep so long?” She kept her voice to a hiss. Meshach shook his head. “You needed sleep.” He cocked his head, listening. “Dey goin’ away.” He nodded toward the east.
    “You’re sure?”
    “Um. Been lis’nin’.”
    “Where’s Benjamin?”
    “Scoutin’.”
    Jesselynn glanced around the campsite. Ophelia and Thaddy were sound asleep on a pallet under a full-branched oak. Ahab raised his head, studied the sounds from the east, and dropped his muzzle to graze again.
    “Ahab better’n a watchdog.”
    “Prettier too.” The guns were indeed going the other way; even she could tell that by now.
    “We cross the ferry at dusk tonight.” She wasn’t sure if it were a question or an order.
    “Yes, Marse.” A smile tugged at the edge of his full lips. “Benjamin say river low enough to swim horses. Only take wagon on de ferry.”
    “We could save money that way.”
    “And be safe.”
    Jesselynn knew it was her turn to smile—and nod. She reached back under the wagon to pull out her boots. Wide awake as she was, she might as well write in her journal.