Paxton and the Lone Star by Kerry Newcomb

him—”
    â€œThat’ll be enough, miss,” Jones interrupted, catching her wrist and restraining her as easily as if she were a child. “Señor Medina hired me to take you people to Texas, not fight your unnecessary fights. If your pa wants to fight, he does so without me.”
    â€œBut you could have at least gone to see—”
    â€œI’m a black man and this is the east side of the river, miss. Once we cross the Sabine into Texas it’s another story. But east of the Sabine?” He shook his head. “You got to understand how it is, miss. If I walked into any one of them places, I’d have the chance of a rattlesnake in front of a herd of buffalo.”
    â€œBut—”
    Jones was losing patience. “No buts, durn it. Now, you take your sister inside that wagon and both of you get some dry clothes on.” He stepped out from under the tarp and saw that it was firmly wrapped around the two girls. “I’m gonna go and do the same, and have me a cup of coffee. Another hour, when this lets up, you come and tell me if he ain’t back yet, and I’ll take the chance and go scout around. But not until, you hear? Can’t nobody do nothin’ in this rain.”
    â€œBut you can’t—”
    â€œI can, miss!” Jones grabbed Elizabeth’s shoulder and turned her around so that she faced the wagon. “Now do as I say ’for I get ired. There’s nothin’ you can do.”
    He sloshed off. In a moment, the sound of his footsteps had faded. “Where did you leave him?” Elizabeth asked, restraining Lottie when she started toward the wagon.
    â€œMr. Jones said—”
    Elizabeth’s hand lashed out and caught Lottie’s dress at the shoulder. “So help me, Lottie, I’ll tear this dress off you and you’ll only have one left. Now where did you leave him?”
    The lantern was held close to her face, the glass almost touching her cheek. Lottie shrank back. “I don’t know,” she said, frightened. “A place. A dance hall, I guess. It was big, with two stories and lots of people.…” She stumbled when Elizabeth let her go, handed her the lantern, and ripped the tarp from around her shoulders. “Don’t do it, Beth! It’s horrible there. I’ll tell Mr. Jones that—”
    â€œYou’ll tell Mr. Jones nothing for at least an hour!” Elizabeth hissed. She wrapped the tarp around herself and snatched the lantern from Lottie’s hand. “Now go to the wagon. Mother’s asleep. If she wakes up, tell her I’ve gone after Father and that I’ll be back in a little while. Do you understand me?”
    Tired and drenched to the skin, Lottie nodded dumbly and trudged through the mud to the wagon. Elizabeth pulled the hat down over her ears and, with the lantern held low to light the way, disappeared into the gap in the trees.
    The path to town was lined with oak trees and yellow pine, eerily moss-hung and menacingly spiny against the devilish glow of the lightning. Here and there along the trail, betrayed to Elizabeth by a crack of light or the barking of a dog, humble lodgings lay nestled in the heavy woods. When Thaddeus Jones had first instructed the settlers to stay away from Natchez Under the Hill, he had described the path to town. They would know when they were nearing Natchez when the path suddenly became a road at the end of a low, whitewashed picket fence that surrounded a country estate. Shortly thereafter the road branched, the left fork leading to Natchez itself, the right to its iniquitous companion. Elizabeth found the picket fence as expected and, a hundred yards farther along, a great two-story house that was brightly lit against the night. Short paces later, the road branched as Jones had said it would. “This has to be it,” she mumbled, pausing momentarily and squinting through the rain. Ahead she could see lights that marked