Page 1 of Freedom's Kiss
Chapter 1
Georgia, 1816
Freedom. No single word had the right to hold such power. With an iron grip powerful enough to force grown men to their knees. Cause mamas to sacrifice their precious babies. Scatter into the shadows those who thrive in daylight. All for a mere taste of that elusive dream—freedom.
Winnie hunched in the thicket, quivering like a hare cornered by a sly coyote. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the sound of which she feared would draw attention to her hiding place. If just for a moment, she willed her heart to stop its thrashing, her breath to cease.
Her eyes strained against the black backdrop, trying to make out the shape of the others hiding among the rhododendron bushes and other undergrowth littering the forest floor. But all remained still. Quiet. She dared not release a sigh as she squeezed her eyes shut in relief. Though the night with its inky darkness whispered of dangers beyond her sight, those along the edges that had dogged their heels these past three days, it also swallowed them up as if they weren’t there. As if they’d never been.
Lord, how much easier that course.
But just as sound had no place here, neither did despair. Not when, for the first time in her life, hope lived. A sliver, but a pinpoint of light in a dark place illuminated more than any would know.
A bloodhound howled. Winnie’s toes curled, and the hair on her arms rose. They were close. Closer than they’d been yet. Would tonight be the night that tiny flame that lighted the small band of souls would be snuffed out? If the bounty hunters found them…
There’d be no mercy. Not for runaway slaves. Beatings, disfigurement, death. Some or all could be their fate if they were captured and returned. But for that taste of freedom…
For Winnie, born on a plantation and raised in the fields, slavery was all she’d known. But for her father? Brave, strong, proud, and once a freed man living in the country of his birth, in Africa, to be haunted by those memories, to know what it was like to be his own man and then have that stripped away? If she’d been observant, watched him from cradle to field to table, would she have seen that gleam? That tenacious hold that one day he’d break his chains and again answer to no man but himself?
That day had come, and now no day after had been the same. But did she want it to be? To work from before the sun rose to after it set. To always feel the pangs of hunger and occasionally the bite of the overseer’s whip?
A raindrop splashed against her cheek, trailed the side of her face, paused at the ridge of her jaw, and fell to the ground. She glanced up and peered between the broad leaves of the towering trees. Even darker clouds rolled across a dark sky. And then, as if slit with a hunting knife, the underbelly opened, releasing a torrent of fat drops that pelted her skin in warm liquid.
But even the earth’s sorrow at their plight couldn’t wash away her memories, nor the fright that had been her companion since before conception. Not when they’d dug their heels into her. She lifted her face to the rain and let herself take in deep breaths. The first in days. No one could hear her sign of life with this torrent falling from the heavens.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she whirled around ready to dash if the strike of lightning illuminated a pale face. But only her father stared back at her, the whites of three other pairs of eyes blinking behind him.
“We best take advantage of the weather.” He moved ahead, expecting the rest of them to follow. “The dogs’ll have more trouble trackin’ in the rain.”
Winnie reached a hand in front of her and latched on to the torn hem of her father’s shirt, at the same time gripping the hand of the person behind her. She shot a quick look over her shoulder, and her older sister, Temperance, flashed an encouraging smile.
Turning back around, Winnie focused on placing one foot in front of the other. If she could do that, maybe she could drown out the other thoughts. Those that wondered how many more of their group would there have been if not for the formidable growl of her father, Asa. No one thought to cross him when his mind had been made up. Not if they didn’t want a beefy fist to their face.
So the small band of runaways could be counted on old Tucker’s right hand, him having had his thumb cut off the time he fled for freedom himself. Not even Pearl’s anguished cries that Asa bring her newborn babe had swayed him. Not her pleas that her child grow up in a place where the horrors of their reality weren’t experienced day in and day out. But a babe held too much danger, Asa’d said. What with their crying and screaming and carrying on in general. Plus, there’d be no way to feed the child. Not without its mama, and Pearl had a broken leg, so she couldn’t come.
The sky erupted in light, a deep boom following behind. Winnie’s chest thundered, as if it were the source of such a sound. How could her father know which direction to go? Though many had dared to escape before, the light of the Drinking Gourd and the North Star pointing their way, clouds hindered the view of Asa’s band. They were like blind men stumbling along a trail ready to swallow them whole.
Asa pulled up quickly, and Winnie slammed into his back. Bending to the side, she peered around her father’s large frame, afraid of what she’d see that had caused him to stop so suddenly.
A river, swift and strong, ate up the ground, mocking as it tripped and fell over the smooth rocks in its path. Another howl rent into the night air behind them. Danger in front and danger behind. No options to the right or left.
“We cross.” Asa didn’t even turn as he said those words. Without a backward glance to see if the rest of the group followed, he pressed forward.
The current swirled and tugged at Winnie’s already sodden skirt as she placed first her left foot and then her right into the river. Cold seeped into her flimsy shoes, grabbing hold of her bones and causing her to shake. Up the water rose, past her calves, her thighs, her waist. She lifted her arms to hover above the water and shuffled her feet across the stony floor. Finally, her body rose out of the wet and cold to stand on the other side, her clothes weighing her down as much as her soul felt pressed. She stood beside her father and watched as the rest of their group crossed.
Temperance slowed in the middle, where the current had been the strongest, teetered, then fell. Winnie darted forward, but fingers encased her arm, pulling her back.
“Don’t, child. She’s gone, and I refuse to lose you too.”
The words may have sounded hard, calloused. But Asa’s deep voice shook with sorrow. Regret. He pulled Winnie to his chest and swayed with a thick arm hung around her shoulders, humming a mournful melody that vibrated from his body to hers.
She swiped at tears as she watched her brother-in-law, William, splash into the river and dive beneath the white caps. No head popped up from beneath the water. Not his. Not Temperance’s.
Would this be how all their stories would ultimately end? Freedom had called, but its price equaled death. Winnie took one more look over her shoulder as her brother, Isaac, emerged dripping from the river, and the three of them disappeared into the shadows of the woods, the cries of known death howling and gurgling behind them, the unknown opening its wide jaws and welcoming the trio into its ravenous belly.
