Free The Mirk and Midnight Hour by Jane Nickerson Page A

daring associates.” His eyes scanned the road. “There. That’s the first of them.”
    A carriage lit by lamps, followed by slow-moving outlines, topped the little hill. As I watched, more lanterns came flickering on like fireflies.
    Cousin Dorian slipped his hand firmly into the crook of my arm, and I readjusted Cubby. “Let’s meet them up at the house. It’s been an interesting trip. Did Aunt Lovy write how the Tingles were moving every last person from their plantation to Texas? All hundred of their slaves? Well, with each stretch we traveled, they lost more of their Negroes to the lure of the Yanks. They’re left mainly with women and children now. Serves them right for vamoosing from their property.”
    “You think they’re wrong for fleeing before the Federals?” I asked. “Cowardly?”
    “Not so much cowardly as stupid. So far the Yanks mainly burn abandoned homes. I would never for a second leave Panola if I didn’t know Aunt Lovy and the rest of the caboodle were there. We’ve got a good overseer, who keeps me informed of what’s going on, and the fields are still being cultivated. We’ll keep at it till the bitter end. If you’d ever seen Panola, you’d understand how it gets in a person’s blood.”
    In an instant I remembered that the Panola my cousin spoke of had been my mother’s childhood home. The few times she had mentioned it, love had misted in her eyes. It was from there she had brought the musical instruments that were first hers and now mine. I’d not thought of it before, but what must it feel like to leave a beloved place knowing you may never return? I felt a rush of compassion. Poor little Cousin Seeley.
    “I hope I may see it someday” was all I said.
    The carriage stopped in front of the house, and a middle-aged man and a pleasant-faced woman alighted. The woman, seeing me, came forward and held out her hand. “I’m Jacintha Tingle, and this is my husband, Matthew. And you must be Violet.”
    I dropped a quick curtsy and took her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Won’t you both make yourselves at home inside while your people camp on the lawn? I expect y’all would relish a warm meal and soft bed after traveling so far.”
    “We would indeed,” Mrs. Tingle said, beaming from ear to ear. “We’re most grateful.”
    “And we appreciate you bringing Cousin Seeley,” I said, glancing around. “Who is—where?”
    “Oh,” Cousin Dorian said, “he generally hangs back with my body servant. He and King are great cronies. Seeley!” he called. “Come meet your cousin Violet.”
    A small figure hesitantly broke away from the others and shuffled toward us. He was undersized for his age, with a head that looked too big for his body and a slouch hat pulled low. He reached out a reluctant hand for me to shake. I still couldn’t see his face, but his jacket sleeves were slightly too short and his wrists bony. “How do you do, Cousin Violet?” he mumbled.
    “Very well, thank you, Cousin Seeley,” I answered. “I’m so happy you arrived here all safe and sound. And you know what I think?”
    He shook his head slowly. Sullenly. Obviously he didn’t consider what I thought of much importance. But then I stopped myself from sizing him up too quickly.
    “I think,” I continued, “you should call me Violet without the ‘cousin’ business attached, and I’ll call you Seeley. Much more convenient. And by the way, this little baby I’m holding is Cubby. His parents are around here somewhere. In fact, I need to hurry and tell his mama to toss lots more potatoes in the stew to make it stretch for everyone who’ll be eating it. As soon as you’ve washed up and brought in your things, I’ll introduce you to the others.” I turned back to the Tingles. “Please get yourselves settled and I’ll call y’all for supper shortly.” I started to usher Seeley indoors.
    He hung back. “I’d rather eat out here.”
    “Seeley!” Dorian said