Immortal (The Trelawneys of Williamsburg Book 2) by Meredith Anne

Author:Meredith, Anne [Meredith, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Haunted Oak Publishing
Published: 2016-11-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dinner at Rosalie surprised Marley in its efficient simplicity. Later that night, she would understand that it was not the festive, social affair she had come to expect around the Adams, but simply a meal.

The Adamses ate with the Freeman-Trelawneys, and even Boots, as Camisha had called him, showed up.

After dinner, Ashanti looked at Boots. “What have we heard from Linnondale?”

“The woman’s pains began at noon.” This from Ruth.

“Very well, then. Who do you think should go?”

Camisha spoke up. “I think—”

“I wasn’t asking you,” her husband said. “You lead us all about by the nose as it is in this matter. We support you in this Christian effort, but Brother Dan and Sister Ruth must live in this land. They will direct us.”

Camisha’s mouth snapped shut, her eyebrows lifted at Ashanti’s affront.

The large, silent older man who sat beside Ruth spoke. “We take as few as is necessary. I must go to baptize the child who has passed. Camisha must go to be with the woman who labors now. Do we know her name?”

“Keturah.”

“Aye, then. We must have watchmen. Bronson, Ray, will you come?”

Each man nodded.

“Ruth must stay behind,” Dan said. “She is too important here.”

Ruth looked away from him, absently scratching her throat. She clearly wanted to go.

“You matter to the students,” he insisted. “You know that.”

“I know that. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Who else?”

“I would like to go,” Marley said.

“No.” This from Bronson. “’Tis too dangerous, you don’t even know what we’re doing, nor do you understand the risk.”

“I want to help. I can see you need help.”

“She can come with me, Bronson. Being white, she will be in little danger. She has a tidewater accent, she can always claim to be a neighbor trying to do something charitable. She’ll be helpful.” Camisha nodded at Marley.

They quickly cleared and scrubbed the supper dishes and walked through the woods to the water’s edge, then walked up the James River for perhaps three miles. The night was clear but also moonless, and their trek was lit by only the stars. Bronson led the expedition, Marley beside him, Ray on her other side, Camisha near her carrying a basket full of clean towels and several small blankets. Behind them, Dan followed, carrying a small pine box.

Marley still had no idea what they were doing.

Just as they were about to pass over a small stile beside a large boulder, indicating a property line, Bronson held out his hand and hushed them. Ray waited beside him, his eyes focused in the same direction as Bronson’s. Marley noticed both of their hands were at their waists, resting on their scabbards.

On the other side of the line of trees along the river stood the figure of a man wearing leather and a long braid—a native, Marley thought. The man watched them, his hands on a line dangling in the water. He raised a hand to them in greeting, then went back to fishing. She shivered as she gazed at him when they passed—witnessing a way of life among people who no longer existed in her time.

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