“If you’re sent to different units, don’t tell them who your master is, don’t tell them where you’re coming from. When you find your chance, come home. If you don’t want to come back here, then head north to freedom.” Their mouths hung open at this incredible offer for their freedom.
“Try to wait until you’re well away from here to try and leave and run away. I don’t want the soldiers coming back here. I’m going to give each of you men a bit of money to help in your effort. I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do.” He ended.
The slaves dispersed and Theo pulled Dark Henry to the side, to speak with him privately. He gave Henry the colt revolver he was issued.
“Keep this hidden under your coat. If you need to fight your way home, I want to make sure you make it back to Mary, alive. It is the only revolver I have. I don’t think they will give you a weapon, so keep this one hidden.” Theo said softly, patting Henry on the shoulder at his nod of understanding.
Early the next morning, Henry pulled Mary into his arms, to say farewell.
“Theo gave me his gun. Try not ta fret, as soon as I can, I’ll come home to you Mary. As soon as it’s safe.”
“Don’t you dare get hurt, don’t you dare die. You come home to me Henry.” Mary ordered. She felt the warm rumble of laughter and a sob move through Henry’s body.
Tears streaked down from Mary’s honeyed eyes, blurring everything around her. She thought her heart might stop with fear and grief. Pulling her in tighter for a crushing hug, Henry abruptly turned away with tears cascading down his blue-black face. He and the other slaves walked down the road, looking back and waving as they went.
Mary held onto Liza, crying hard, still in disbelief that her husband was gone, perhaps forever. Victor, seeing his mother’s distress, ran to his mother, his arms upraised. Ida wasn’t far away, crying as well, not knowing why she was crying, only that her mother was and she should help. Mary held both children in her arms, taking comfort from their warm bodies.
At night Mary lay with her body curled around her children. It had been nearly three months and no sign of any of the men, gone from the farm. She worried constantly and fretted when she heard the thundering cannon fire in the distance. Theo told her not to fret, that Henry was strong and smart and would find his way home no matter what. It was little help, this coming from a one arm man with both brother’s dead in the ground. Mary kept her thoughts to herself. It would serve no good to lash out at Theo, he had little choice in this deed.
Standing at the window, Mary watched the snow come down in fitful spray. It wasn’t even December and there was snow dusting the ground. It was going to be a hard winter ahead. Fear curled through her stomach, was Henry warm? Had the Rebs discovered the pistol her husband carried? Why wasn’t he home yet? What was taking them so long? The questions ricochet inside her skull, causing it to throb and ache. She had become short tempered and snappish with the children, and had lost weight with the lack of appetite.
Patina and Cookie tried to persuade her to eat, trying to cajole her with treats and flavorful dishes. Nothing, Mary merely stood by the window each day and looked for her husband. The children now clung to Patina or Lisa, feeling slightly abandoned by their mother. Liza could not shake Mary from her vigilant position by the window. Theo stayed away from her, knowing he was responsible for sending her husband away.
It was close to Christmas, though Mary didn’t feel very joyous. Two of the slaves had made it back, feet bloody, and fresh scars on their backs. The two men were starved rail thin and were close to death when they arrived. They had no word of her husband, which frightened Mary even more. The returning men told Mary and the others that some of the slaves had been shot for trying to desert, though they couldn’t say if Dark Henry was among those recaptured or if they were even slaves from this farm.
“Dark Henry talked to other slaves from other plantations and farms. They was all plannin’ ta desert, you know, little by little. At night, so them rebs didn’t catch us.” One man said.
Dark Henry had plan to leave after them, staggering the desertion, hoping to send the soldiers in different directions. When the returning men asked after the farm’s other slaves, they were told that they had been the only two out of the twenty to make it back so far. This did not bode well and the other women cried piteously for their lost men.
Mary went back to her cabin, dejected. Night came and the wind whipped bitterly at the naked trees. The cabin moaned, the air coming through the chinking was bitter cold. The fire flared up from the gusts of cold air, sweeping down the chimney. The door to the cabin banged open, and Mary turned, annoyed, thinking the blustery weather had intruded into her home.
There, standing before her, like some specter from hell, was Dark Henry. A joyous cry filled the small home, causing the children to jump. Mary flung herself into her husband’s massive arms, though somewhat diminished in size. Mary’s heart flipped; her husband was thin as a blade of grass.
Henry held onto his wife for all he was worth.
