Giant Men and Violent Women

Done

ASHLEY

I drop the uniforms on the kitchen floor. The kitchen slaves slow their movements, looking at the pile of Slave Grays with apprehensive eyes.

Mercer closes the kitchen door behind himself.

"Let's go," Pope says to them, pointing at the girl pouring a cup of coffee. "You've got five seconds to make that cup just the way he likes it." He points to me.

She hurries to make that happen. Funny thing is, I don't even know how I like my Black Honey besides with honey. But if Pope does...

Food. I see food on the kitchen island. Mercer and I head over to it. There's a buffet of food, piping hot and waiting for Mercer and me—duck roasted in garlic honey, moose lying on a mound of blackberry stuffing, grilled lamb with kale inside them, scones, blackberry tarts, sparkling water that's misty with condensation. Plates are stacked to the side with Gram's silver to accompany them. Mercer and I grab seats on opposite sides of the island and dig in. Pope walks over with two coffee cups for Mercer and me. I take a sip of mine. Hmm...I do like it.

Six slaves were retrieved tonight. Each of them shipped to Concord, New Hampshire, where they'll be arraigned at the county jail. From there, they'll be sent to a work camp on the New Hampshire and Canada border. Ice, snow, wild moose, shoveling, negative temperatures—the punishment for escapees. Hard labor. Horrible work. There must be order in New Hampshire. There has to be a price to pay for leaving the program, just like there would be a price to pay for escaping jail. A slave leaving his workplace is just as bad.

Two women were retrieved along with the six slaves. They were mysticlooking women with hair they could each sit on. Both were sent to Concord where they will be tried, found guilty, and entered into The Prison Work Program. They might be from Vermont, but they were obstructing New Hampshire laws. They will be tried in a New Hampshire court of law.

Louisiana was not in the cabin with them. Neither was Date.

What was in the cabin was a fresh fire in the hearth. I noticed it as three of the slaves were attempting to wrestle me to the ground and grab my pistol so they might use it on me. This was before they saw the backup charging their way and then began running themselves. They were caught.

I moved onto the two ladies who had run into the woods, their hair running behind them, disappearing into the fog. I chased them, but they knew their land better than me. However, though they might be backwoods women, I'm a mountain boy; therefore, I'm a quick learner when it comes to terrain. I realized that they were climbing trees to hide within the fog. Fog is a challenge but not impossible. It took two swipes of my arms to grab one and then the other. They fought, they kicked, they bit, and they were captured.

And then it was quiet.

Mercer led our crew and the captives to our trucks. I walked into the now-empty cabin, hearing the popping of the fireplace, seeing clothes inside the flames. I grabbed each piece out, tossing them on the ground, stomping the fire out of them. Evidence. Within the pile of smoking clothes was a familiar sight—a shirt and tie. I remembered the tie because it was one that Date wore often. There was also his bloody shirt—a long-sleeved button-up. He was there.

I searched the place, stepping on floorboards, seeing if they creaked. I took a broom and thrust it at the ceiling, seeing if it would lift. He wasn't there. He was hurt, hence the bloody shirt.

Presley Ann had gotten him help. She had been told that he was close to death and that he needed a doctor and a hospital. She had run and gotten Hunt. Together, they'd both decided that he needed a medical team. Presley Ann had then taken Date to Vermont to get help. Vermont is Jewels's turf. Jewels had been the one who had helped her get him out of that safe house with those women and captives and to a real doctor. I have no evidence of this, but I know this to be the case.