A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy
the men planned to do—and the danger inherent in the scheme. At any word she might shatter into sobbing little bits and slip down onto the sandy floor.
    After a while her mutterings penetrated Jesselynn’s own chambers of fear and horror.
    “Lawd, Lawd. Jesus, Son of God, have mercy. Lawd, Lawd.” She repeated the words without seeming to even draw a breath.
    Jesselynn gritted her teeth. The singsong seeped into her bones and reverberated there, ringing clear like a crystal glass struck by a spoon. Rising and falling, now intelligible, now not. If they brought her comfort, Jesselynn didn’t see it. She wanted to scream at the woman to stop.
    She wanted to run after the men and plead with them to come back.
    She kept on stitching.
    Once she went and stood at the mouth of the cave, listening, straining to hear over hollows and ridges to a camp somewhere south. It was not so far away that they’d taken the horses, but it was out of hearing range. She should have forced Meshach to take the traders in to the law in Springfield. That was the proper thing to do.
    But trafficking in slaves wasn’t illegal in Missouri. All the scum had to say was they caught these runaways and were taking them back to their masters. They might even have papers to show that they were hunting certain escaped slaves. And besides, how would she force Meshach to do anything?
    She rubbed her arms to warm them and returned to the fire, trying to ignore Ophelia’s haunting song without end.
    She caught herself nodding off after stoking the fire more times than she cared to count, so she decided to skin and cut up the rabbits she’d forgotten to take to Aunt Agatha and set them to frying. The fragrance of sizzling meat overlaid the smell of horse droppings. Even though Daniel cleaned the cave floor every day, the smell could still get a bit strong.
    One of the horses snorted. Jesselynn leaped to her feet and ducked under the rope to clamp a hand over Ahab’s quivering nostrils. If there was someone out there and they heard a horse whinny, sure to heaven they’d come looking. She looked longingly at the rifle leaning against the wall of the cave.
    “’Phelia.” She tried again, hissing louder, not wanting her voice to carry beyond the fire. “’Phelia, hush and get the gun.”
    Ophelia rocked again, then rose and drifted across the sand to pick up the rifle. She held it barrel down and brought it to Jesselynn.
    “Here, you guard the horses. Do not let Ahab whinny. He’s heard something.” Shifting places, she took the rifle and ran to the mouth of the cave, hugging the shadowed wall. Not that much of the firelight showed beyond the slight bend anyway. But shadows would show with so little light. She stopped just inside the overhang, holding her breath to hear anything untoward.
    The two-tone whistle came. She grabbed the wall to keep from falling when her knees started to buckle. Jerking herself upright, she took two steps outside to whistle back. It took her three attempts before she could work up enough spit to wet her lips and whistle.
    The rattle of iron chains preceded the arrival. Horses snorted. Meshach led one horse with a scarecrow on its back. Two other horses and Roman, their mule, carried two riders each. Leave it to Meshach to put the others ahead of his own need.
    Daniel slid off the back of one of the horses and came to stand in front of Jesselynn. “Dey de mens what beat me up.” The narrowing of his eyes as he spoke said more than his words.
    “One of dem’s Dunlivey’s partner.” Meshach helped the first of his charges down from the horse, a young woman who clutched Meshach’s jacket over her bare breasts. If there were welts on her back to match those on her legs, it was no wonder her eyes wore a wild-animal look.
    “You’re sure?”
    Meshach nodded. “I never forget dat face.”
    Jesselynn took in a deep breath as she saw the open sores on legs gone stick thin from lack of food and eyes of men too afraid to hope.

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