light, up in that devil’s country!”
“I’m for earnin’ me thirty pounds!” shouted another citizen of Jubilee, a broad-shouldered man with a wild brown beard and a sweat-damp red kerchief tied around a bald scalp. He lifted his own weapon, a flintlock pistol with a small bayonet fixed beneath the barrel. “Zachary DeVey ain’t afraid! Put me a ball through any spirit, ha’int or demon up that river, and I’ll laugh when I do it!”
A chorus of assent followed this boast, with more pistols and swords lifted high. Matthew, still feeling a little queasy and blurry-eyed, thought there were enough weapons in this yard to start a small war, and possibly the mob had come here anticipating the possibility of trouble with the slaves…or indeed an uprising of the ‘skins,’ as the locals put it.
“Listen to me !” Royce bellowed. “Those stories some of you are feared of are just that…stories made up by slaves, Indians and damn fools!” He pointed toward the north. “You know why Miss Sarah’s killer and those other two are headin’ upriver instead of down? Because they’re thinkin’ those tales are gonna keep us rooted right here, feared to go up there and bring ’em back! Now…I’ve told you I’m joinin’ the hunt, not because I’m wantin’ the money but because I’m wantin’ to see justice done! I’ve told you what Mr. Kincannon wants…and he wants it quick as possible. So any man who wants to serve Mr. Kincannon and avenge that poor girl’s murder by the hands of a black buck, get your musket or your sword and whatever else you need, get your boat and start movin’. That’s all I have to say. Either help or go home and to bed with you, but I’m expectin’ ten or twenty men of you out there to remember that Mr. Kincannon built Jubilee, and you all owe him more than bein’ afraid of ghost stories and a damn river !” He waited for a reaction to this, but there was none. “You decide!” he told them as a final statement, and then he turned away and went back into the house.
The assembly began to drift apart, breaking up into smaller groups to mutter among themselves. Pipes flared to aid the contemplation. A few of the men were obviously ready to go; without further hesitation they mounted their horses and wagons and rode off toward Jubilee and their fishing boats and canoes.
Magnus’ voice was tight when he said to Matthew, “Come on,” and started toward the house. He walked up the front steps to the porch, with Matthew following right behind, and pounded on the door with a heavy fist.
The door was opened by a young black girl in the dress and mobcap of a house servant. “Tell Mr. Kincannon Magnus Muldoon wants to see him,” was the command, but the black girl shook her head. “Cain’t see nobody,” she answered. “He’s stricken.”
“Stricken? How?”
“He fell down when he seen Miss Sarah dead. Had to be carried up to his bedroom. Mizz Kincannon’s up there with him now, but he can hardly talk.”
“I want to know how this happened,” Magnus insisted, putting a booted foot inside the door. “If I can’t see Kincannon, I’ll see—”
“You don’t give orders around here,” said Griff Royce, abruptly pushing the servant girl aside and staring up with glinting green eyes at the black-bearded mountain. “If you want to join the hunt, go ahead, but you have no business in this house.” The eyes flickered toward Matthew. “ You? Corbett? What are you doin’ here?”
“It seems I…had a little too much to drink, and—”
“What’s he babblin’ about?” Royce asked Muldoon. “The both of you, go on!” He closed the door, forcing Magnus to step back, and a bolt was decisively thrown.
“Friendly sort,” said Matthew, who had noted that the compress on Royce’s right forearm had been removed in favor of a wrapping of regular bandages. “Not too good with horses either, I understand.”
“I have to find out more
“I’m for earnin’ me thirty pounds!” shouted another citizen of Jubilee, a broad-shouldered man with a wild brown beard and a sweat-damp red kerchief tied around a bald scalp. He lifted his own weapon, a flintlock pistol with a small bayonet fixed beneath the barrel. “Zachary DeVey ain’t afraid! Put me a ball through any spirit, ha’int or demon up that river, and I’ll laugh when I do it!”
A chorus of assent followed this boast, with more pistols and swords lifted high. Matthew, still feeling a little queasy and blurry-eyed, thought there were enough weapons in this yard to start a small war, and possibly the mob had come here anticipating the possibility of trouble with the slaves…or indeed an uprising of the ‘skins,’ as the locals put it.
“Listen to me !” Royce bellowed. “Those stories some of you are feared of are just that…stories made up by slaves, Indians and damn fools!” He pointed toward the north. “You know why Miss Sarah’s killer and those other two are headin’ upriver instead of down? Because they’re thinkin’ those tales are gonna keep us rooted right here, feared to go up there and bring ’em back! Now…I’ve told you I’m joinin’ the hunt, not because I’m wantin’ the money but because I’m wantin’ to see justice done! I’ve told you what Mr. Kincannon wants…and he wants it quick as possible. So any man who wants to serve Mr. Kincannon and avenge that poor girl’s murder by the hands of a black buck, get your musket or your sword and whatever else you need, get your boat and start movin’. That’s all I have to say. Either help or go home and to bed with you, but I’m expectin’ ten or twenty men of you out there to remember that Mr. Kincannon built Jubilee, and you all owe him more than bein’ afraid of ghost stories and a damn river !” He waited for a reaction to this, but there was none. “You decide!” he told them as a final statement, and then he turned away and went back into the house.
The assembly began to drift apart, breaking up into smaller groups to mutter among themselves. Pipes flared to aid the contemplation. A few of the men were obviously ready to go; without further hesitation they mounted their horses and wagons and rode off toward Jubilee and their fishing boats and canoes.
Magnus’ voice was tight when he said to Matthew, “Come on,” and started toward the house. He walked up the front steps to the porch, with Matthew following right behind, and pounded on the door with a heavy fist.
The door was opened by a young black girl in the dress and mobcap of a house servant. “Tell Mr. Kincannon Magnus Muldoon wants to see him,” was the command, but the black girl shook her head. “Cain’t see nobody,” she answered. “He’s stricken.”
“Stricken? How?”
“He fell down when he seen Miss Sarah dead. Had to be carried up to his bedroom. Mizz Kincannon’s up there with him now, but he can hardly talk.”
“I want to know how this happened,” Magnus insisted, putting a booted foot inside the door. “If I can’t see Kincannon, I’ll see—”
“You don’t give orders around here,” said Griff Royce, abruptly pushing the servant girl aside and staring up with glinting green eyes at the black-bearded mountain. “If you want to join the hunt, go ahead, but you have no business in this house.” The eyes flickered toward Matthew. “ You? Corbett? What are you doin’ here?”
“It seems I…had a little too much to drink, and—”
“What’s he babblin’ about?” Royce asked Muldoon. “The both of you, go on!” He closed the door, forcing Magnus to step back, and a bolt was decisively thrown.
“Friendly sort,” said Matthew, who had noted that the compress on Royce’s right forearm had been removed in favor of a wrapping of regular bandages. “Not too good with horses either, I understand.”
“I have to find out more
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