A Place Called Freedom (1995)

He knocked and called for a minute or so then gave up and went away.

When the lead was melted she took the pan off the fire. Moving quickly, she poured a little lead into the mold through a nozzle. Inside the head of the tool was a spherical cavity that now filled with molten lead. She plunged the mold into the bowl of water on her wash-stand, to cool and harden the lead. When she squeezed together the arms of the tool, the head came open and a neat round bullet fell out. She picked it up. It was perfect except for a little tail formed by the lead that had remained in the nozzle. She trimmed the tail with the kitchen knife.

She carried on making shot until all the lead was used up. Then she loaded both pistols and placed them beside her bed. She checked the lock on the door.

Then she went to bed.

33

MACK HATED LIZZIE FOR THAT SLAP. EVERY TIME HE thought of it he felt enraged. She gave him false signals then punished him when he responded. She was a bitch, he told himself; a heartless upper-class flirt who toyed with his feelings.

But he knew it was not true, and after a while he changed his view. Reflection led him to realize that she was at the mercy of conflicting emotions. She was attracted to him, but she was married to someone else. She had a well-developed sense of duty, and she felt scared because it was being undermined. In desperation she tried to put an end to the dilemma by quarreling with him.

He had longed to tell her that her loyalty to Jay was misplaced. All the slaves had known for months that Jay was spending his nights in a cottage with Felia, a beautiful and willing girl from Senegal. But he had felt sure Lizzie would find out for herself sooner or later, and sure enough she had, two nights ago. Her reaction had been characteristically extreme: she had locked her bedroom door and armed herself with pistols.

How long would she keep that up? How would it all end? “Run away to the frontier with some ne’er-do-well,” he had said, thinking of himself. But she had not responded to the suggestion. Of course it would never occur to her to spend her life with Mack. No doubt she liked him; he had been more than a servant to her; he had delivered her baby; and she enjoyed it when he em braced her. But all that was a long way from leaving her husband and running off with him.

He was lying restlessly in his bed before daybreak, turning these things over in his mind, when he heard a horse whinny softly outside.

Who could it be at this time of night? Frowning, he slipped off his bunk and went to the cabin door in his breeches and shirt.

The air outside was cold and he shivered when he opened the door. It was a misty morning with a fine rain, but dawn was breaking and he could see, in the silver light, two women entering the compound, one leading a pony.

A moment later he recognized the taller woman as Cora. Why had she ridden through the night to come here? Bad news seemed likely.

Then he recognized the other one.

“Peg!” he cried delightedly.

She saw him and came running to him. She had grown up, he thought: she was inches taller and a different shape. But her face was the same and she threw herself into his arms. “Mack!” she said. “Oh, Mack, I’ve been so frightened!”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said. “What happened?”

Cora answered his question. “She’s in trouble. She was bought by a hill farmer called Burgo Marler. He tried to rape her and she stabbed him with a kitchen knife.”

“Poor Peg,” said Mack, and he hugged her. “Is the man dead?”

Peg nodded.

Cora said: “The story has been in the Virginia Gazette and now every sheriff in the colony is looking for Peg.”

Mack was aghast. If Peg were caught she would certainly be hanged.

The other slaves were woken by their conversation. Some of the convicts came out and recognized Peg and Cora, and there were happy reunions.

Mack said to Peg: “How did you get to Fredericksburg?”

“Walked,” she said with a laconic touch of her old defiant personality. “I knew I had to go east and find the Rappahannock River. I traveled in the dark and got directions from people who are out at night—slaves, runaways, army deserters, Indians.”

Cora said: “I hid her in my house for a few days—my husband’s in Williamsburg on business. But then I heard that the local sheriff was about to raid everyone who was on the Rosebud.”

“But that means he’ll come here!” Mack said.

“Yes—he’s not far behind me.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s on his way now—he was mustering a search party when I left town.”

“So why did you bring her here?”

Cora’s face hardened. “Because she’s your problem. I’ve got a rich husband and a nice house and my own pew in the church, and I don’t want the sheriff to find a murderer in my damn stable loft!”

The other convicts muttered their disapproval. Mack stared at her in dismay. He had once thought of spending his life with this woman. “By God, you’re hardhearted,” he said angrily.

“I saved her, didn’t I?” Cora said indignantly. “Now I’ve got to save myself!”