A Place Called Freedom (1995)

“You’ve hardly wet your throats,” Baz said. “Drink another cup.”

“No,” Lizzie said decisively. She took out her pocketbook. “Let me pay you.”

Two men walked in, blinking in the dim light. They appeared to be local people: both were dressed in buckskin trousers and homemade boots. Out of the corner of her eye Lizzie saw Peg give a start, then turn her back on the newcomers, as if she did not want them to see her face.

One of them spoke cheerily. “Hello, strangers!” He was an ugly man with a broken nose and one closed eye. “I’m Chris Dobbs, known as Deadeye Dobbo. A pleasure to meet you. What news from the East? Them burgesses still spending our taxes on new palaces and fancy dinners? Let me buy you a drink. Rum all round, please, Baz.”

“We’re leaving,” Lizzie said. “Thanks all the same.”

Dobbo looked more closely at her and said: “A woman in buckskin pants!”

She ignored him and said: “Good-bye, Baz—and thanks for the information.”

Mack went out and Lizzie and Peg moved to the door. Dobbs looked at Peg and registered surprise. “I know you,” he said. “I’ve seen you with Burgo Marler, God rest his soul.”

“Never heard of him,” Peg said boldly, and walked past.

In the next second the man drew the logical conclusion. “Jesus Christ, you must be the little bitch that killed him!”

“Wait a minute,” Lizzie said. She wished Mack had not gone out so quickly. “I don’t know what crazy idea you’ve got into your head, Mr. Dobbs, but Jenny has been a maid in my family since she was ten years old and she’s never met anyone called Burgo Marler, let alone killed him.”

He was not to be put off so easily. “Her name isn’t Jenny, though it’s something like that: Betty, or Milly, or Peggy. That’s it—she’s Peggy Knapp.”

Lizzie felt sick with fear.

Dobbs turned to his companion for support. “Ain’t it her, now?”

The other man shrugged. “I never saw Burgo’s convict more than a time or two, and one little girl looks much the same as another,” he said dubiously.

Baz said: “She fits the description in the Virginia Gazette, though.” He reached under the counter and came up with a musket.

Lizzie’s fear went away and she felt angry. “I hope you aren’t thinking of threatening me, Barney Tobold,” she said, and her voice surprised her by its strength.

He replied: “Maybe you should all stay around while we get a message to the sheriff in Staunton. He feels bad about not catching Burgo’s murderer. I know he’ll want to check your story.”

“I’m not going to wait around while you find out you’re mistaken.”

He leveled the gun at her. “I think you’re going to have to.”

“Let me explain something to you. I’m walking out of here with this child, and there’s only one thing you need to know: if you shoot the wife of a wealthy Virginian gentleman, no excuse on earth is going to keep you from the gallows.” She put her hands on Peg’s shoulders, stepped between her and the gun, and pushed her forward.

Baz cocked the flintlock with a deafening click.

Peg twitched under Lizzie’s hands, and Lizzie tightened her grip, sensing the girl wanted to break into a run.

It was three yards to the door but they seemed to take an hour to get there.

No shot rang out.

Lizzie felt sunshine on her face.

She could contain herself no longer. Shoving Peg forward she began to run.

Mack was already in the saddle. Peg jumped up on the seat of the wagon and Lizzie followed.

“What happened?” Mack said. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Let’s get out of here!” Lizzie said, snapping the reins. “That one-eyed fellow recognized Peg!” She turned the wagon to the east. If they headed for Staunton they would first have to ford the river, which would take too long, and then they would be riding into the sheriff’s arms. They had to go back the way they had come.

Looking over her shoulder she saw the three men in the tavern doorway, Baz still holding the musket. She whipped the horses into a trot.

Baz did not shoot.

A few seconds later they were out of range.

“By God,” Lizzie said gratefully. “That was a nasty moment.”

The road turned a corner into the woods and they passed out of sight of the tavern. After a while Lizzie slowed the horses to a walk. Mack brought his horse alongside. “We forgot to buy oats,” he said.

Mack was relieved to escape but he regretted Lizzie’s decision to turn back. They should have forded the river and gone on. Staunton was obviously where Burgo Marler’s farm was, but they could have found a side trail around the town, or slipped through at night. However, he did not criticize her, for she had been forced to make an instant decision.

They stopped where they had made camp the night before, at the place where Three Notch Trail was crossed by a side trail. They drove the wagon off the main road and concealed it in the woods: they were now fugitives from justice.

Mack looked at his map and decided they would have to go back to Charlottesville and take the Seminole Trail south. They could turn west again after a day or two without coming within fifty miles of Staunton.