Page 25 of Backwoods
In Nick’s eagerness to get answers, he moved toward the girl. The girl drew backward like a startled animal.
“Hey, wait,” Nick said.
“Get out!” she screamed. She whirled around and darted into the brush.
Amiya chased after her, Nick on her heels, but the girl moved like a zephyr and clearly knew her way through these woods. Within a minute, Amiya had lost track of her.
Amiya stopped running and leaned one hand against a tree trunk to aid her balance, her heart racing. Nick bent over next to her. He coughed, spat in the dirt, cursed.
“She knows about my grandpa,” he said. He scowled, wiped rain out of his eyes.
Amiya had taken the first-aid kit from Grandpa Lee’s pickup and fitted it in her purse. She took it out then, and used an antiseptic pad to clean the cut on her arm. She applied an adhesive bandage over the wound.
“She jabbed that stake at you a few times,” Amiya said.
“I’m good,” Nick said, waving off her help. “She called my grandpa ‘the caretaker.’ What the hell does that mean?”
“Not sure, and she said he can’t be touched. I’m assuming he’s off-limits to . . . someone? Everyone?”
“What was all that talk about an Overseer, and a plantation?” Nick asked.
“I was hoping you might have some idea. Does of any of that sound familiar?”
“All I know is that my ancestor was a slave here, and somehow got this property from his owner,” Nick said. He shook his head. “I don’t know if there was ever a plantation here. I’ve never seen it, and no one’s ever said anything to me about it. I’m as clueless as you are.”
“I don’t think she was lying.” Amiya shivered, hugged herself. “She was terrified.”
“And the Overseer?” Nick said.
“Clearly, it’s someone that frightens her. Most likely, it’s the same individual who branded her on the neck with the letter ‘W.’”
“Westbrook,” Nick said, softly.
“Come again?”
“Grandpa Lee, he’s always called this land ‘Westbrook.’ I thought it was only something he made up, but maybe it’s not.”
“Maybe the plantation is named Westbrook,” Amiya said.
Both of them were silent for a moment. Amiya had always been uncomfortable with the idea of plantations. The very word “plantation” conjured lurid images and disturbing narratives of her ancestors bartered for and sold like common property, family members separated, women raped; shackled, whipped, forced to endure hard labor in sunbaked fields from dawn to dusk.
“We’ve got to find this place,” Nick said. He swung the rifle around from where it hung across his back and into his hands. “Grandpa Lee could be there. If this girl was there, there couldbe others like her, too. Remember, she said this Overseer person has ‘helpers.’”
“A helper could have taken your granddad, you think?” she asked.
“I’m convinced he didn’t disappear on his own, whether she claims he can’t be touched or not.”
“I’m trying to understand how all of this could be going on here without your granddad’s . . . consent,” Amiya said, delicately. “A runaway child and some person who calls themselves an Overseer, all of this happening on his property? I’m struggling with this.”
“What’re you trying to say?” Nick glared at her. “You think he’s in on it?”
“I can’t imagine that Grandpa Lee is involved in anything as awful as this; I truly can’t.”
“But?” Nick asked.
“The child knew his identity, Nick. She had a name for him. I don’t know the extent of his involvement, but he certainly hasn’t been totally forthright with you.”
“Fair enough.” Nick grunted. “Then I think we’d better find him.”
