Good Man Friday by Barbara Hambly Page A

the dark woods.
    He’d stood too long. Feet crunched the leaves to his right. He wondered if leaving the road and striking out cross-country would save him. He could at least get up a tree, if he could locate one suitably large in the dark. Against the blackness of the woods he saw movement, closing in on him …
    â€˜
Ben
!’ shouted a voice, and a lantern flashed on the road ahead of him.
    January swung around, startled at the sound of his name—
    â€˜Ben, goddamit, when I sent you to take those books to Mr Smith’s this afternoon I told you not to be all goddam day about it!’
    The man striding up the road toward him, lantern held high, was Mrs Trigg’s white boarder.
    January immediately gave the guiltiest flinch he could manage and scurried toward his benefactor – kidnappers would carry off any free black they could find, but a white master would make serious trouble to recover a piece of property worth fifteen hundred dollars. ‘Marse Poe –’ he was astonished he remembered the man’s name – ‘I swear I wasn’t just foolin’ away the time! Marse Smith wanted me to move some bookshelves for him—’
    â€˜Marse’ Poe caught January by the arm – he was a good eight inches shorter, slender and elegant despite the shabbiness of his black greatcoat – and shook him. ‘Don’t you give me your excuses!’ In the light of the upraised lantern their eyes met, Poe’s warning:
Play along
…
    January nodded very slightly, and Poe thrust him roughly back in the direction of Washington.
    â€˜I swear …’ he began again.
    â€˜And I swear I’ll wear you out with the buggy whip next time you go off on your own,’ retorted ‘Marse’ Poe, and he stalked away up the road, January scurrying meekly at his heels.
    Behind them, the woods were silent.
    They’d gone about fifty yards before Poe breathed, ‘They still back there?’
    â€˜They’re not following us.’
    â€˜Well, thank God for small favors, anyway.’ His soft voice had the accent of Virginia. ‘I apologize if I spoke insultingly, sir. Had I leaped to your defense shouting, “You shall not drag this poor nigger into slavery!” they’d probably have shot me.’
    â€˜It was damn quick thinking, sir. Thank you. But I fear I’ve disrupted your evening’s plans – you were on your way to Georgetown, I think?’
    â€˜No great matter. One of those gatherings at which one barely knows one’s hostess but tries to insinuate oneself into an introduction to another of the guests. A disgusting practice, but apparently how things are managed in these degenerate days, and beggars can’t be choosers. Outwitting slave stealers in the woods has infinitely more appeal than convincing some Western Congressman of what a good postmaster I’d make.’
    â€˜I’m grateful,’ said January simply. ‘And a little amazed you recognized me at that distance in the dusk. I don’t think I’d have stopped if you hadn’t called my name.’
    â€˜Well, at your height you are difficult to miss.’ They were coming clear of the trees. The first lights of the Washington houses had begun to twinkle, far off to their right. Behind them January heard the clop of hooves, the creak of harness, and stepped quickly aside. A wagon came past in the gloom: four men, dark against the paler sky. Dark horses, white feet.
    Whether the men looked down at him and his ‘master’ as they passed, he couldn’t tell.
    â€˜You think they’ve caught some other poor devil?’ whispered Poe.
    â€˜They may just have given up for the night. It isn’t a frequented road.’
    But the thought of how close he’d come to lying bound in that coffin-like space, listening to the sounds of Washington’s streets around him and knowing what he was going to, made him shiver. He