Henry lifted the fever ridden woman into his arms and took her up to the master bedroom, Theo behind them. Liza followed, carrying the basin with her. Mary followed, asking Henry to take all the children to the cabin. Near midnight, Patina died, leaving Theo to grieve bitterly. Mary left him holding Patina’s body in his arms, rocking her as he sobbed into her chest. It tore at Mary to see Theo brought so low; she knew that he had loved Patina. Heart sore, she and Liza walked quietly to their cabins, their arms wrapped around each other. So much misery in life, it went hand in hand with the joy. Life was bittersweet at best.
Henry held his wife in his protective arms as she sobbed wretchedly. Mary was so tenderhearted; Henry was at a loss as to how to sooth her. It had always been so, Mary loved too well, too hard. He kissed her brow, loving her all the more for her kind and gentle nature. He sent up a prayer for his wife and for Theo, he knew Theo was devastated.
Everyone knew that Theo was deeply in love with Patina, though it was a forbidden love. John had turned a blind eye, loving his grandchildren as much as Theo did. The whole farm population knew of the forbidden love, but held its secret. No one from the outside had known. Now, Theo was devastated and inconsolable, he held Patina’s body in his arms, long into the night.
The summer waned to autumn, the beautiful foliage brilliant, the air sweet and crisp. Mary stood on the porch, looking to the fields. Several of the families who had left the year before had come back home. They told of the horrendous conditions about the country. They spoke of reconstruction, and they spoke of hooded devil riders. All had gathered round to hear of these demons.
Benjamin related what he and Ginny had seen as they had traveled north.
“We had ta sleep out in the fields at night. We sent George to beg permission to sleep on the property and to hunt. Many times, we was run off at gunpoint.” Ben said sadly, shaking his head. His seventeen-year-old son, George echoed the movement.
Many of the white farmers were suspicious and frightened of the freed slaves. On the road, they saw many of the soldiers, wandering aimlessly about the countryside. When they were lucky enough, they were given access to a barn or deserted slave quarters. They asked for work and were refused, living one day at a time. Nights were the worst, there were men on horseback at night, riding through the farms and woods. They wore white hoods and carried torches. Ben had witnessed a lynching; he and George had left Ginny at the barn and had gone off to hunt rabbits.
Ben had sent George back to the barn with the brace of rabbits. Ben stayed out in the woods, looking for fruit trees near the small farm. It had grown dark as Ben made his way back to the farm. In the distance he saw the glow of fire. Curious, but with caution, Ben moved through the poplars and oaks, making his way to a small clearing. What he saw terrified him and tore at his soul. Before him were a group of hooded men, their horses tied to bushes. A large oak with a low branch had four lengths of rope hanging across its thick branch.
“They was four ex-slaves, with they faces battered and bloody. They hands was tied behind they backs. It looked like a family. A man, bout my age, woman and two young men. One, near George’s age.” Ben’s voice broke and tears slid down his lined face. Grief heavy in his voice.
The prisoner’s faces reflected panic and abject fear, the light from the torches distorting them into caricatures of humans. Ben feared his own heart beating would give him away, he watched in horror as the hooded devils placed the ropes about the families’ necks. One by one, they hung them, first the boys, then the man’s wife, and finally the man. Their bodies twitching and bucking grotesquely at the end of the rope, the acrid stench of urine and excrement making Ben gag. The hooded men laughed uproariously, pulling off their masks.
To Ben’s stunned disbelief, one of the men was the farmer, who’s barn they now occupied. Doubling over, Ben vomited onto the ground, his empty stomach pulling hard and painfully. It was all he could do to remain quiet, the heaving continuing for some time. Tears cascaded down his face unchecked, mingling with the vomit about his mouth.
It was sometime before he could regain his strength to stand and make his way back to the farm. His legs wobbled as he began to run pall mell through the trees. The men had long ago left the area, most likely to do more mischief. Reaching his family, he was grateful that no harm had befallen them. When Ginny had questioned him about his tardy arrival, he had told her the gruesome tale, urging her to gather up their belongings and leave the farm.
They spent the remainder of that night traveling northward, fear at every sound around them. They stayed off the road, hugging the forest as they went. On their trek northward, they ran into more scenes such as the one Ben had witnessed. When they had arrived in New York city, they found the city full of refugees. There were times when they stepped over bodies, left to rot, as they transverse the dirty and crowded streets.
Living was squalid, people crammed cheek and jowl in small apartments. The streets were strewn with garbage and open sewers ran
