Civil War Women in Love by Rachel Windsor

Author:Rachel Windsor [Windsor, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica
Published: 2014-03-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven—Caught

Immobilized with fear at the loud crack, Kenda and Jane stared at each other, afraid to look around. Kenda’s mind’s eye provided a possibility for what she might see if she turned to see who had made the noise—an angry white man, or men, with guns aimed at her. For Jane, it was different¸ she had no idea what to expect, for she had never been in danger.

Kenda broke free from the paralyzing moment and looked in the direction from which the sound had come. Nothing. Staring hard, she caught a flicker of motion behind a tree approximately twenty yards away. Focusing on the spot, she saw more motion. This time it was more than a flicker. She found herself staring down the last person she expected to see—another black woman. The other woman peered around the tree and, seeing the two women in the clearing, slowly moved into view.

“Who you?” she called softly.

Kenda looked at Jane, who shrugged. The woman appeared to be alone and didn’t pose a danger. Turning back to the newcomer, she gestured to her to approach. After a moment of hesitation, the older woman walked toward them. As she drew near, her story became plain, without even a word being spoken. Her face, although regal and beautiful, was tired and lined with fear and worry—she was on the run just like them. She was tall and striking, likely a few years older than Jane and Kenda. Although she had wide birthing hips, her breasts and stomach were firm and tight, indicating she had not birthed any children.

“Who you?” the woman repeated when she got close enough for conversation. She looked carefully at Kenda, her eyes taking her time. For Jane, however, her examination was skeptical and full of distrust.

“Kenda,” Kenda offered. “And this is Miss Jane.”

“Just Jane,” Jane interjected hurriedly. There was something about this woman that was intimidating and despite not even yet knowing her name, Jane didn’t want her close to them.

Nodding slowly as she surveyed the pair the woman relaxed a bit. “I’m Alala. You two runnin’?”

“Maybe,” Kenda said. She was young but knew better than to freely offer information that could be her own death warrant.

Alala looked from Kenda to Jane. “You’re runnin’,” she concluded. “Just like me. How far you headin’?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jane said firmly. She liked how it sounded—“we.” Kenda frowned at her. Jane meant well but she was still a privileged white girl and didn’t know that they could be in grave danger while on the run, even from a fellow runner. A slave caught on the run could escape the whip or even the noose by giving up a runaway rich white girl.

“Mind some company? Three’s better than two when it comes to keeping look-out,” Alala said.

Kenda considered the option and looked at Jane. Shrugging slightly, Jane deferred to Kenda without words. Inside, she didn’t want the woman to join them, but she knew that Alala was likely right about having three people to keep watch, allowing for more rest shifts.

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