Addison True: Volume 2 by Craig Savoye

Author:Craig Savoye [Savoye, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

2

Samuel was the slave in the party of southerners Addy and Emma had run into whilst driving that blasted stagecoach across the Sonoran desert, east of the Yuma Indians and the Colorado River. Caje Druckmeyer was the name of the overseer leading that train. It was the company included them two that murdered the orphan boy.

Recollecting now…Samuel said the plantation he lived on, and was heading back to, was ten miles north of Jackson, Mississippi. Took Addison a bit to recall the name of his owner. Arnott. Oswald Arnott.

He turned his back on the railroad bridge downriver and threaded his way north through a stand of water oak and catalpa. Wretched cold and hungered, but his legs got some energy, thinking on Samuel. Flood plain he’s on weren’t fit for a home site and he don’t see none. He’s opposite Jackson, over atop the bluff, west bank of the Pearl. Kept a wary eye that way but he’s hidden well enough.

Swam across the river when he judged he’d gone eight or nine miles. Small landing there with a rickety private dock for loading cotton. Weren’t a soul about but he avoided it anyways. A man-tall cut bank rose up on either side of the dock, but otherwise no bluffs like around Jackson. He seen a wisp of smoke, maybe a half-mile west. Proceeded that way cautious. Mid-afternoon.

He come to the east edge of a rectangle field, maybe forty acres. Negroes spread out sowing cotton seed. Far side, setting atop a wagon, was a white overseer. Dogs on the ground near the rig. Addy feeling insecure absent a bowie and that Navy pistol empty—not to mention being trapped in the deep south, clothes soaked, bad hungered, and general miserable. Felt as anxious about them dogs as he did the overseer. He longed for a spyglass. Still, he spotted the slave quarters, past where the overseer was parked, north of the plantation house. There were woods west and north of the cabins.

He retreated into the forest. Gonna give a wide berth to them hounds. By the time he’d circled around to the west side of the quarters it was late afternoon. Negroes came in off the field at dusk. Most gone to building cookfires—some inside cabins, some out. Ones outside weren’t but 30 yards from his hiding place, but there’s open space betwixt front edge of the woods he’s in and outermost slave cabins. Light from the main house spotlighted that vacant area. He’s worried on where exact the overseer’s cottage been.

Waited. Smell from dinner cooking about drove him insane. Night fell. Most of the slaves retreated into their cabins after ettin. He’s wondering on approaching one when a lone negro woman come out the main house dressed good—a servant most like—and gone to walking down the length of the cabins along the outer walls. Couldn’t see nothing but her silhouette in the dim light. Known he had to take a chance. He whispered when she drew even with his hiding spot.

Ma’am. Need your help.

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