THE COTS CREAKED WHEN we sat on them. We faced each other across the small room like two combatants before the gun blows. And it was worse than that. Despite the grueling hike and the baggy trousers and the tense expression on his face, Nate was still adorable. How would I manage sharing a room with Nate? This was so awkward!
“Start talking,” he said.
“What do you want me to say?”
His left eyebrow inched up.
“Okay. I told you from the beginning, I did some time traveling.”
“Yeah, an unusual hobby.”
“Do you want me to talk or what?”
I took it by his silence and dark shade of his blue-eyed stare that he did. “Sometimes, I travel, but,” I lightened my voice, “I always go back.”
“Back to when?”
“Right back to where I left. No one will even notice that you’ve been gone.”
“That’s good. Jessica would be so ticked if I took off without telling her.”
I winced. Evil Jessica Fuller. I’d forgotten about her here. The one good thing about traveling is that I don’t have to deal with her. Nate noticed I’d grown silent.
“You don’t like her?”
“So what if I do or I don’t?”
“No reason. Just wondering.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“Why wouldn’t she like you?”
“She’s your girlfriend. Ask her yourself. And really, since we’re getting all cozy here, I have to ask, what do you see in her?”
He just shrugged.
“Whatever, I don’t care.” I didn’t want to talk about her. I guess he didn’t either.
“So, how do we get back?” He said this with a big sigh.
“Um, I don’t know how that works exactly.”
His jaw dropped. “You don’t know how it works!”
“Not really, it just happens.”
“Without warning?”
“Oh, no, I get a bit of lead time going back. It’s coming here that I’m caught off guard. Otherwise, well, I’d be here alone.”
That seemed to strike him.
“How often does this happen to you?”
“When I was younger, maybe once, twice a year, but recently, it’s really picked up. Not sure why. I think it has something to do with stress.”
Slow dancing with Nate Mackenzie. Walking in high heels across the gym floor under a strobe light. Being mocked by a particular pretty, if stuck up, red headed cheerleader. Slow dancing with Nate Mackenzie.
He flipped his legs onto his cot and lay down, hands under his head. “This is so sci-fi. But kind of cool, when you think about it.”
I’m glad he thought so. I examined our new home. Wooden floors, two cots with a night table between them—a candle and box of matches the only thing on it—and a larger table under the window with a pitcher and bowl for washing up. A small brick fireplace was built into the corner with a little pile of kindling and a stack of wood against the wall. I lit the candle, then stepped across the room, the wooden floor squeaking under my feet. I poured a bit of water into the bowl, scooped it up and splashed it on my face. I breathed in deeply. Somehow we’d make it through this.
I returned to my cot and let myself recline. My body ached and trembled with exhaustion. Nate turned on his side and faced me.
“How old were you the first time it happened?”
“Nine.”
“That must have been scary for you.”
“It was.” I related my Jungle Book boy experience.
“How long does it last?”
“Sometimes it’s as short as a few hours and sometimes…”
Like the summer I first met Willie…
“Sometimes…” Nate prodded.
“It’s longer. I never know. Hopefully it’ll just be a couple days.”
“Does this happen to anyone else you know?”
“I haven’t met anyone. I know the signs and I haven’t seen the evidence.”
“There are signs?”
“Well, a few. I get dark rings around my eyes when I travel back to my time; I’m discombobulated for a while, and really, really tired.”
Nate took this in letting his eyelids close. “So, you’re a time traveler. I’m not. How do I get back?”
“You have to be touching me. Skin to skin.” His eyes were shut but he was smiling. If I’d had a spare pillow, I’d have chucked it at him. Instead I got off my cot and headed outside.
“Where you off to?”
“The outhouse.”
“Hey, Casey?”
I stopped at the door. “Yeah?”
“What happens if, you know, you don’t get to me on time, to touch my skin?”
“You’d get left here, I guess.”
The muscles around his eyes tightened, making them bulge a little. I added quickly, “I’d come back eventually, so you wouldn’t be left here forever.”
“Awesome,” he said sarcastically.
I really had to go, but felt worried now about leaving him alone. What if it did happen when we were apart? I’d go back to the dance, and Nate would be gone. To everyone else, he’d have just “poofed” into mid air. How would I explain that? It would be disastrous. I decided to make my trip to the outhouse a quick one.
When I returned, Nate headed out.
“Just follow the trail through the grass,” I shouted after him. “Blow the candle out when you get back.”
I watched his back as he left the cabin, still not believing I was here with Nate Mackenzie and that we were about to fall asleep in the same room. Oh, my goodness. Best not to think about it too much. Mercifully, I fell asleep quickly and didn’t spring awake until the nerve-wracking crow of the rooster at dawn.
Two pair of boots sat outside our cabin door. If the Watson sibs were anything, they were observant. Willie showed up to take Nate on a tour of the farm. I pulled him aside before they left. “Willie, I don’t blame you for being mad.”
“I confess that I was hurt Casey, uh, Cassandra. A man doesn’t like to be played the fool. But after I thought about it for a while, I saw that you only did it as a protection for yourself. I don’t know why your father or brothers let you go off on your own, and it’s not my place to judge. But I understand it would have been foolhardy for you to travel alone as a girl. Uh, woman.”
“So, we’re still friends?” I asked hopefully.
He smiled. “Friends.”
We did the awkward should-we-shake-hands-or-hug dance (I, for one, avoid shaking bare hands when possible), then I grabbed him and gave him a quick, platonic hug. I headed to the house to help with breakfast. My first task was to go back outside and get a pail of water from the pump. With no tap to turn, I had to physically pump the handle as water poured out of a spigot into the bucket.
Back in the kitchen, I used the water to make a big pot of porridge. While I was getting water, a guest had arrived. Sara introduced him to me as Samuel Jones. He looked to be in his late teens and had the same wild-eyed hungry look that Nate and I had arrived with. And he was black. Not a big deal in a world where the president is African American, but an issue during 1860 with the civil war looming.
Nate, Willie and Cobbs showed up shortly after and Sara made the introductions again. Cobbs grunted and sat down.
“Hey,” Nate said to Samuel. “How’s it going?”
“Good now,” Samuel said. “It smells like heaven in here.”
Sara called the children and put the pot of porridge on the table. We all helped ourselves to generous portions.
“So, Sam,” Nate said, “you here long? I’d offer you to bunk with me, but my sister,” he grinned at me, “is taking up all the space.”
He spoke to Samuel with the same familiarity he did with his friend Tyson. I didn’t know if he noticed the stunned looks of our hosts and of Samuel himself. White folks here just didn’t talk like that to those who weren’t white. I turned to Nate and gave him my best “zip it!” glare.
“
That’s fine,” Samuel said softly. “I won’t be here for long.”
“Samuel has recently come from the south,” Sara offered.
Ah, a runaway slave, perhaps? He had a likable face, strong yet vulnerable. I felt worried for him.
“He should be safe here,” I ventured. “With Massachusetts being a free state.”
There was a pregnant pause. Did I just say something I shouldn’t have?
“That’s true,” Willie responded, “But don’t forget about the fugitive act.”
Right. Stupid me, I knew that.
“I’m waiting for my younger brother Jonah,” Samuel said. “Then we’ll head up to Canada.”
“Oh,” said Nate. “I’m from Canada.”
Why, oh why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?
“Really?” said Willie.
“I thought you were from Springfield.”
“We are,” I jumped in, “Nathaniel meant our grandfather on our mother’s side originally came from Canada. We’ve never been there.”
I picked up the brown sugar. “Sugar, anyone?” Sara poured the coffee and we managed to keep the conversation tame. Samuel and Nate left for the barn and I did the dishes. It took forever. Again I had to pump water from outside and haul it in, then heat the water on the stove before filling the sink.
When I finally had the last bowl washed, dried and put away Sara called for me. “Mother’s feeling better today and would like to pass the time in the sitting room. I require your assistance to help her down the stairs.”
“Sure.” The last time I had seen Mrs. Watson, which had been some time ago now, she’d been commanding the kitchen, fully in the role that Sara played. Now she was petite and wiry, like a broomstick in a skirt. Despite her bulging stomach, Mrs. Watson was still a waif of a woman. Her dark hair was salted with gray and pulled into a bun at the back of her head. She had pouchy skin with deep lines on her forehead and brow. She looked too old to be having children to me, but what did I know?
The sitting room was warmly decorated with a wall of shelves filled with books and a colorful area rug dotted with a selection of high back chairs. Sara and I settled her into one nearest the massive stone fireplace. The fire burned gently with sporadic sparks; the room felt like a Christmas card.
“Thank you Sara and…”
“It’s Cassandra, Mother,” Sara said. “She’s the new girl I told you about.”
“Yes, well, thank you Cassandra, for helping my dear Sara. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Well, we won’t worry about that today.” Sara draped a shawl around her mother’s shoulders.
“I bet you’ll be glad once Mr. Watson returns,” I said.
“Oh, he won’t be back in time to see this little one come into the world,” Mrs. Watson said. “It takes many weeks to travel to London and back.”
Mr. Watson didn’t plan to be here for the birth of his own kid? I guess number ten wasn’t much to celebrate.
Afterwards, I helped Sara can vegetables for the winter. Then I made supper. And did the dishes again. At least the younger girls helped with that, though sometimes they didn’t feel very helpful.
Before returning to the cabin, I found a ball of string and an extra bed sheet. An idea had been bouncing around my mind all day, and I immediately put it into action. I strung a line of string from the front wall of the cabin to the back and clothes-pinned the sheet to it, separating the room. I wasn’t Nate’s sister and I had no plans of letting him view what wasn’t his.
And so went our first day. Then our second. On our third I grabbed Nate and made a surreptitious trip to the grove to restock the stash. With proper boots we were only MIA from the farm for an hour. Nate got that I needed to prepare for my next trip back and even a long walk was still a break from working. By the fourth day my back burned and I’d have died for a hot bath. Nate walked around like an old man. No matter that he was a super fit athlete; it didn’t prepare you for the rigors of mind numbing, backbreaking labor. Nate walked in at the end of the day, just as I lit the candle, and flopped on his cot.
“I thought you said a couple days,” he mumbled.
“Well,” I said from the privacy of my side of the sheet. “Usually it is. I’m sure I’ll be shouting your name soon.”
I’d promised him I’d come running to the barn calling his name when I felt the “trip” start.
“You better get ready,” I said, removing my work dress. “We’re supposed to meet Robert Willingsworth in Boston. Finally, we get to do something interesting.”
“You know, I can see your silhouette with the candle burning.”
“What!” I grabbed the “going to town” dress Sara had lent me and covered myself. “Close your eyes!” I heard him chuckle. “Shut up!” I really wanted to throw something at him. I’d been very careful when selecting the sheet making sure there weren’t any holes. No peek-a-booing going to happen here. I didn’t account for silhouetting, though.
“Be a gentleman and turn around.”
“And if I don’t?” his voice had that annoying little lilt I used to find amusing.
“If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll tell Jessica!” Teasing me, he said, “Jessica who?”
“Your girlfriend.”
“Oh, her. No need to freak. I’ve been turned around for ten minutes already.”
Humph. I slipped into the dress, thankful that the buttons ran up the front, and then pulled on the socially required but ridiculous hoop skirt underneath. I’d get Sara to help me with my hair, I thought, as I marched out of the cabin, covering my ears to block out Nate’s laughter.
We took one of two carriages owned by the Watsons.
“We need to use both,” Sara explained, “to get the whole Watson family to church on Sundays.”
Nate gawked out the window. I had to elbow him and whisper, “close your mouth.” I remembered seeing it for the first time: Boston with no automobiles or electric streetlights, movie-set-like costumes, lots of horses and black or Irish men pushing wheelbarrows and shoveling manure. All the modern buildings and glass and steel skyscrapers, like The John Hancock Tower, that are cramped beside the old brick buildings on the Freedom Trail, gone.
The doors of an Irish pub opened up as we clip-clopped by. Cobbs stumbled out just in time to see me staring out the coach window. He offered a smarmy grin and saluted.
“I don’t like that guy,” Nate whispered.
“I guess he didn’t want to join us tonight.”
It had grown dark by the time we reached our destination. The oil lamps lighting the streets dimly illuminated the sign on the building: The United States Hotel. Nate surprised me by offering his hand to assist me out of the carriage. He wore a borrowed unbuttoned waistcoat over his own white dress shirt, suspenders, boots and a topcoat. I almost didn’t hate him in that moment.
The United States Hotel was an elaborate brick structure bound by Beach, Lincoln and Kingston Streets, and in 1860 was the largest in the country. It stood three stories high and took up three whole blocks. Sara and Willie greeted the doorman.
“This isn’t around anymore?” Nate stated the obvious.
I shook my head, “Now we have Chinatown.”
The cobble roads were a bustle of activity. Other carriages passed by or stopped in front of the hotel. Solo riders on horseback clip-clopped alongside a mass of pedestrians. Across the street a band of black men stood quietly, holding a banner with a hand painted slogan that said, ABOLISH THE FUGITIVE ACT.
I spotted Samuel Jones. He acknowledged me with a slight nod. The gentlemanly doorman opened the double doors and a porter directed us to a large meeting room. It was a political gathering, with the keynote speaker due to discuss the hot issues of states’ rights and slavery.
Nate spoke softly in my ear, “Will we see Lincoln?”
“No, but if you look to your right you’ll see Ralph Waldo Emerson seated beside Nathaniel Hawthorne.”
“Ah, the author,” he
added, mimicking Sara.
Sara had spotted Robert Willingsworth and gone to him. The sparkle in her eye said it all—she was in love. Unfortunately, Robert was looking over her head. At me. Decorum demanded that he converse with her, but after politely asking about her family and her health, he marched in my direction.
“Miss Donovan!” He grabbed my hand— thankfully Sara had lent me a pair of white gloves— and graciously kissed it. “What in heaven’s name happened to you at Faneuil Hall? You disappeared into thin air!”
Nate’s eyes flashed with amusement, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing. I wanted to kick him in the shin.
“Yes, I had to leave suddenly. A courier had delivered news that my mother was very ill and I rushed home immediately.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Sara, having trailed behind Robert, her sparkle and spunk gone, added, “But, she returned to us with her brother.”
“Oh, yes.” I broached an awkward introduction. “Robert, I’d like you to meet my, uh, brother, Nathaniel.”
“Mr. Donovan,” Robert said, stretching out his hand, “it’s my pleasure.”
Mr. Donovan? Now it was my turn to bite my lip. We selected a table and played a little game of musical chairs. It seemed Robert fully intended to sit next to me, a performance I found irritating. Nate sat on my other side.
“He is so into you,” Nate whispered. His eyes widened when he said this. Was he surprised that I could attract a man’s attention?
“Shh!”
“I heard that if Lincoln wins, the southern states threaten secession,” said Willie.
Grateful for the subject change, I said, “Is it that bad?” Of course, I knew it was.
“It appears so,” Robert said. “There is talk about a separate union. The Confederacy.”
“That’s dreadful,” said Sara. “All so they can work humans like animals.”
“Well,” said Robert, “one could blame the north for that phenomenon.”
“How so?” asked Nate. I gave him a warning eyebrow. Don’t mess with history, buster.
Willie answered. “The industrial advancement of the northern states, particularly in the case of factories that spin cotton and weave cloth, has created a greater need for raw material.”
“The only way to meet the demand for cotton is to increase the workforce, thus the need for slaves,” added Robert.
“Couldn’t you meet that demand by hiring free men,” said Nate, his smile gone, “black or otherwise?”
“We’re talking about the need for an enormous amount of manpower, impossible to manage, not to mention a centuries old tradition.”
I reached under the table and took Nate’s hand, squeezing it gently. He caught my eye and understood. We couldn’t get involved. Plus, his hand felt really good in mine.
“Did I not hear that your family runs a cotton plantation in Virginia, Robert?” said Willie. The mood at the table darkened.
“Indeed,” Robert said.
“How many slaves does it take to run it?” Sara asked.
“My uncle owns sixty.”
A small gasp escaped from Sara’s lips. I tensed, and could see by the scowl on Nate’s face that he didn’t like what he'd heard either.
“But, I am not my uncle. Let’s remain clear on that.”
Thankfully, our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the speaker. The host of the evening called us to attention. “May I introduce to you, Senator Charles Sumner.”
The audience rose and applauded loudly as a gentleman dressed in a tweed suit limped carefully to the podium with the help of a wooden cane. I leaned towards Nate.
“He once spoke against slavery with a speech called The Crime against Kansas. A congressman from South Carolina beat Sumner with his cane until he was unconscious. Can you believe it? That’s why he limps now. ”
Nate shook his head. I continued, “This beating became a symbol in the north of southern brutality. I’m sure we’ll hear about it tonight.”
Nate grinned. “How do you know all this?”
“I told you, American History is my best subject.”
The applause died down and everyone took their seats. The crowd’s anticipation for the coming presentation was evident. Charles Sumner would not disappoint. He cleared his throat and began, “To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson, who, I see is kind enough to attend tonight, ‘An immoral law makes it a man's duty to break it….’”
A four-piece band set up after the lecture.
“What’s happening now?” I asked.
Sara clapped her hands. “A dance.”
A dance?
Willie asked me for the first one. “You look lovely, Cassandra,” he said with a big grin, “but I have to confess, I kind of feel like I’m dancing with my brother.”
I smacked him playfully. He continued, “Though I will admit to having thought that ‘Casey’ was a bit effeminate.”
“I knew I was going to get caught in my charade sooner or later.”
“Is that why you brought your brother this time?”
Hey, good idea. “Exactly.”
“It’s a good thing I was so nice to you. I’d hate to have been guilty of beating up a girl.”
I looked up at him, suddenly wanting to ask a question I’d been wondering for a long time. “Why are you so nice to us? You and your whole family? We work for you but you treat us like peers.”
“Ah, well, for one thing, the Good Book teaches us that all men and women are created equal, even ones that come and go without explanation.”
“How do you know we aren’t planning to rob you or harm you in any way?”
“I suppose if you were going to, you would have done so all ready. It’s not our place to judge. Besides, we’re commanded to entertain strangers because by doing so we may be entertaining angels unaware.” He smirked. “Are you an angel?”
I laughed out loud. “Hardly.”
Reluctantly I gave Willie over to one of his admirers, but didn’t have to wait long before Robert approached me. I let him lead me to the dance floor, but not before throwing a beseeching look Nate’s way. Besides, I’m not a great dancer. It’s one thing to fake it with Willie but another with the likes of Robert Willingsworth.
“You are adorable as always, Miss Donovan.” He held my waist delicately, twirling me across the dance floor. “Or may I call you Cassandra?”
Um. I really wanted to avoid unnecessary familiarity, but it seemed rude to say no. ”You may, Mr. Willingsworth.”
“And you may call me Robert.” Robert seemed intent on staring longingly at my eyes. I responded by staring over his shoulder, gulping. I was unaccustomed to unabashed admiration.
Willie had lost no time in asking a pretty little blond to dance, and winked at me when they swirled by. Nate and Sara sat at the table alone. When I caught Nate’s eyes, I tried to signal that he should ask her to dance. Amazingly, he complied, though I could tell that, like me, ballroom dancing was a foreign sport for him. Once they were on the dance floor, I pointed them out. Maybe Robert needed to see Sara with someone else before he’d clue into what he was missing.
“Look, Robert. Don’t Nate and Sara look good together?” He grunted softly. On a roll, I kept going. “Sara, she’s quite something. You’d be amazed at how excellent she is at managing a busy household. I would die if I had to do all the work she does with her mother bed resting. And all those children. She will make a terrific wife to some lucky man one day.” Hint, hint.
“Indeed.” He looked at me pointedly. “As will you.”
Yikes! Just then Nate cut in. “Do you mind if I take a turn with my sister?”
Take a turn? He was picking up nineteenth century lingo.
“Certainly.” Robert barely concealed his annoyance, but graciously offered to partner with Sara.
“Thank you,” I said, once I was in Nate’s arms.
“You looked uncomfortable.”
“Indeed.” I smiled up at him.
>
“Indeed.” He smiled back. “You know, you surprise me, Casey.”
“What do you mean?”
“You're nothing like I thought you were, back at school.”
“Which was?”
“I don't know, quiet, boring, uninspired.”
Quiet, I could deal with. Boring? Uninspired? That stung.
“And now?” I said, very interested in his answer.
“Obviously, the opposite.” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. My belly filled with happiness.
“You’re not a bad dancer,” I said after a comfortable pause.
“Isn’t this how it all started?”
“What do you mean?”
“With a dance. How we ended up here. Together.”
Oh. “We will get back, Nate. I don’t know why it’s taking so long, but we will get back.”
Confession: Nate was intoxicating. Being this close to him, his hand in mine, well, my knees quivered. And the way he looked at me?
“Robert and Sara are watching us.” I pointed out. “Remember, we’re brother and sister.”
Something had changed between us. Our chemistry was sparking, and I could tell he felt it, too. I should have been ecstatic but I knew that nothing could ever happen between us here, because, for one, if word got out that we weren’t siblings we’d be in big trouble (we were sharing a cabin!)
Also, I was certain that when we got home everything would return to the way it was before. I’d go back to hanging out with Lucinda, and he’d go back to his football buddies and Jessica. And I couldn’t forget the reason Nate was here with me in the first place.
“Do you think your buddies got a good laugh?”
“What?”
Oh, how soon they forget. “The dare.”
Nate lowered his head. “My only regret is that it took a dare to get me to dance with you.” Shields up! Shields up! That had to be the sweetest thing any guy had ever said to me. All the more reason to go into self-protect mode.
“Let’s not complicate things any more than they already are.”
His back stiffened. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Complicating things?” I spouted. “I can’t imagine a more complicated situation.”
When the band announced that they were about to perform the last dance, our table prepared to leave. Nate helped me with my shawl before Robert could get to it. Sara and Willie said good-bye to their friends.
Robert approached me. “My dear Cassandra, I do hope to see you again soon. Perhaps I will call on the Watson family sometime and see you there?”
Was he asking me out? I sneaked a glance at Nate and his expression was grim. Perfectly brotherly. “I suppose so.”
I was nervous, and I didn’t want to be rude. “But, Nathaniel and I aren’t sure how long we will be staying.”
Nate broke in. “We’re a bit transient that way.”
Just as we got to the front door someone charged inside shouting, “Fight! Fight! A group of Southies picked a fight!” We ran outside to a nasty scene: a brawl had broken out. The oil street lamps didn’t shed much light, but the moon was full. About a dozen men were throwing fists.
“Willie,” Sara shouted, “go get the carriage.”
“Oh no!” I grabbed Nate's arm. “Look!” Samuel Jones was in the fray. “Samuel!” I yelled. “Samuel!” For a moment he turned towards me. Eyes wide with fear, blood on his face. Then he was gone.
And so was Nate. I spun around and his familiar form wasn’t behind me or to either side. Then I caught a glimpse of him in the mob. The only tall, white guy in the mix, he wasn’t hard to miss.
“Nate! Are you crazy?” I couldn’t believe him. “Nate! Stop!” I had no choice but to run into the mob after him. I pressed myself through muscular sweaty bodies, no easy feat with my annoying hooped skirt. I managed to grab hold of Nate’s sleeve and tugged hard. “Nate! Stop it right now! This is NOT your fight!”
Maybe not, but the guys in the mob didn’t know that. My distraction gave one of the guys the opportunity to punch Nate in the gut. He buckled over and groaned.
“Nate!” Despite my big hoop skirt bending half way up to the sky, I pulled him out of the crowd, almost free of it when I felt my head explode. I’d taken an elbow to the cheek. A warm, fuzzy blackness followed by mad throbbing overwhelmed me. My eyes swelled with tears.
I heard Willie’s voice calling, “Cassandra! Nathaniel!” I felt his hand in mine as he led me and Nate back to the carriage. “You’ve been hurt,” he said.
“I’ll be all right.” I actually felt like throwing up.
Nate held his stomach but had his breath back. He bent over to examine my face. “It didn’t break the skin, but it’s bruising.”
The police arrived with bats in their hands, and started pounding on the backs of the men in the mob.
“Get in the carriage!” Sara poked her head out of the window. Nate helped me in and Willie jumped in the front, snapping the reigns. The sudden jerk of the horses thrust me against Nate. I didn’t have the energy to right myself. Nate didn’t seem to mind. In fact he put his arm around me. In a brotherly fashion, of course.
“I hope Samuel is okay,” Sara said, holding a handkerchief to her face. She was white as a sheet and clearly shaken. Nate’s lips pulled into a tight line, anger simmering behind his eyes. The ride back to the farm was quiet; we were too upset to say much.
On our return, Sara offered to tend to my cheek. I just wanted to be alone.
“I’ll be fine Sara. I’ll put a cold cloth on it in the cabin.” She and Willie stared after me and Nate with worried looks.
Once in our cabin, Nate started the fire to get rid of the chill. “That really sucked,” he said.
I poured cool water from the pitcher into the bowl and dipped a cloth into it. After ringing it out I pressed it against my cheek. Nate saw me wince.
“Casey, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have jumped in. I wasn’t thinking. I’m really out of my element here.”
The truth. He wasn’t a traveler and he didn’t belong here. I had to get him back, and then somehow forget all about this magical time we’d had together. Behind the sheet, I slipped off my hoop skirt, but kept my dress on. I crawled under the covers, exhausted. The throbbing in my cheek subsided, but sleep escaped me. I twisted and turned, frustrated that sleep wouldn’t come. I needed an emotional respite from the drama of the evening. Plus, getting through the workload of the next day without sleep would be horrible.
I was awake when the night sky lightened and the rooster crowed. Ugh. How would I make it through this day? I heard Nate mumble and groan and throw off his blankets. He yawned as he stoked the fire. I splashed my face with cold water; the sting on my cheek reminded me of the night before. My stomach lurched, first at the thought that Samuel might be in trouble and then because I was certain that Nate couldn’t wait to get away from all this. From this and from me.
Nature called, and I opened the door to head for the outhouse, but jumped back, stifling a yelp. Samuel had spent the night leaning up against our door. “Sorry to startle you, Miss Cassandra,” he said with a coarse and raspy voice. His left eye was swollen almost shut and his split lip had dried blood.
“Samuel, come in out of the cold.” Nate had jumped up when he heard Samuel’s voice, and now he helped him inside, leading him to sit on the edge of his bed. I could tell by the way Nate’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened that the sight of Samuel’s beating made him angry. I soaked a cloth with water from the washbowl and handed it to him. He pressed it against his lip.
“What were you doing outside our door, Samuel?”
“I’m really sorry to disturb you. I meant to be gone before you arose. Your front door’s opposite the wind.”
“But, why didn’t you sleep in the loft?” That was where he usually slept.
“Cobbs doesn’t like black men. I probably shouldn’t have come back her
e, but the Watson’s are good people, and I don’t have anywhere else to go just yet.”
“What happened last night, Samuel?” Nate said.
“Slave hunters from the south. They’re after runaway slaves.”
Now that the blood was cleared from his mouth, I handed Samuel a cup of water to drink. “I thought you were going to Canada. You would be safe there.”
He gulped the water down and mumbled while wiping his face with his sleeve, “Uh, well, I’m waiting for my brother.”
“You shouldn’t waste any time leaving,” I said. “The Watson’s will help Jonah when he gets here. It’s too dangerous for you.”
“You can stay here in our cabin for now, Samuel,” Nate said. “Rest up. We’ll tell the Watson’s that you’re here.”
“Thanks. You are too kind.”
We almost made it to the house, too. I felt the dizziness, just as I spotted Cobbs out of the corner of my eye. I grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him frantically behind the hedge as we both began to spiral into bright white. I hoped Cobbs hadn’t seen us vanish into thin air.
CHAPTER NINE