A Place Called Freedom (1995)

Peg said: “Thank you for everything, Cora. You did save me.”

Kobe had been watching the proceedings silently. Now Mack turned to him automatically to discuss the problem. “We could hide her over at the Thumson place,” he said.

“That’s all right, so long as the sheriff doesn’t search there too,” Kobe said.

“Damn. I never thought of that.” Where could she hide? “They’ll search every inch of the quarters, the stables, the tobacco sheds.…”

Cora said: “Have you fucked Lizzie Jamisson yet?”

Mack was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean, ‘yet’? Of course I haven’t.”

“Don’t act stupid. I bet she wants you to.”

Mack resented Cora’s unromantic attitude but he could not act innocent. “What if she does?”

“Would she hide Peg—for your sake?”

Mack was not sure. How can I even ask the question? he thought. He could not love a woman who would refuse to protect a child in this situation. Yet there was a doubt in his mind as to whether Lizzie would agree to do it. For some reason this made him feel angry. “She might do it out of the kindness of her heart,” he said pointedly.

“She might. But selfish lust is a more reliable motive.”

Mack heard dogs barking. It sounded like the deer-hounds on the porch of the big house. What had disquieted them? Then there was an answering bark from down by the river.

“Strange dogs in the neighborhood,” Kobe said. “That’s what disturbed Roy and Rex.”

“Could it be the search party already?” Mack said with heightened anxiety.

“I think so,” said Kobe.

“I was hoping for time to figure out a plan!”

Cora turned away and mounted her pony. “I’m getting out of here before I’m seen.” She walked the pony out of the compound. “Good luck,” she called softly. Then she disappeared into the misty woods like a ghostly messenger.

Mack turned to Peg. “We’re running out of time. Come with me to the house. It’s our best chance.”

She looked scared. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Kobe said: “I’ll go and see who the visitors are. If it’s the search party, I’ll try to slow them down.”

Peg held Mack’s hand as they hurried through the cold fields and across the damp lawns in the gray light. The dogs came loping down from the porch to meet them. Roy licked Mack’s hand and Rex. sniffed curiously at Peg, but they made no noise.

Doors were never locked here, and Mack led Peg in through the back entrance. They crept up the stairs. Mack looked out of the landing window and saw, in the black-and-white tones of dawn, five or six men and some dogs coming up from the direction of the river. As he watched, the party split: two men headed for the house and the rest turned toward the slave quarters with the dogs.

Mack went to Lizzie’s bedroom door. Don’t let me down now, he thought. He tried the door.

It was locked.

He tapped gently, fearful of waking Jay in the next room.

Nothing happened.

He tapped harder.

He heard soft footsteps, then Lizzie’s voice came clearly through the door: “Who’s there?”

“Hush! It’s Mack!” he whispered.

“What the devil are you doing?”

“It’s not what you think—open the door!”

He heard a key turn, and the door opened. In the gloom he could hardly see her. She turned back into the room, and he stepped inside, drawing Peg behind him. The room was in darkness.

Her footsteps crossed the room and a blind was raised. In the pale light he saw her, wearing some kind of dressing gown, looking deliciously tousled. “Explain yourself, fast,” she said. “And it had better be good.” Then she saw Peg, and her attitude changed. “You’re not alone.”

“Peg Knapp,” he said.

“I remember,” Lizzie said. “How are you, Peggy?”

“I’m in trouble again,” Peg said.

Mack explained. “She was sold to a hill farmer who tried to rape her.”

“Oh, dear God.”

“She killed the man.”

“You poor child,” Lizzie said. She put her arms around Peg. “You poor child.”

“The sheriff is looking for her. He’s outside now, searching the slave quarters.” Mack looked at Peg’s thin face and saw in his mind the gallows in Fredericksburg. “We have to hide her!” he said.

Lizzie said: “You just leave the sheriff to me.”

“What do you mean?” Mack said. He got nervous when she tried to take charge.

“I’ll explain to him that Peg was defending herself against rape.”

When Lizzie was sure of something she often imagined that no one could disagree with her. It was a vexing trait. Mack shook his head impatiently. “That’s no good, Lizzie. The sheriff will say the court has to decide whether she’s guilty, not you.”

“Then she can stay here until her trial.”

Lizzie’s ideas were so maddeningly airy that Mack had to force himself to speak calmly and reasonably. “You can’t stop a sheriff arresting someone accused of murder, no matter what you think of the rights and wrongs of the case.”

“Perhaps she should just stand trial. If she’s innocent they can’t convict her—”

“Lizzie, be realistic!” Mack said in exasperation. “What Virginian court is going to acquit a convict who kills her owner? They’re all terrified of being attacked by their slaves. Even if they believe her story they’ll hang her, just to frighten the rest.”