The Fugitive Son Read Free Page B

the landscape in what seemed to be a million shades of green. Tea roses lined the hedgerow leading to the ponds that powered the steam sawmill. Her father had used the mill to rip massive yellow poplars into floorboards and trim. And every spring, he and the slaves would float planks on flatboats down the creek and river to New Orleans where they would sell the lumber. In the winter, they would cut ice from the ponds, pack it in sawdust from the mill, and store it in the icehouse.
    In her mind’s eye, Elsie pictured the ice saws, felling axes, and two-man crosscuts hanging along the icehouse wall in mute testimony of their winter activities. “And testimony of the fact that I couldn’t possibly run a sawmill and pack an icehouse by myself,” she murmured ruefully. Her brothers were right. She had no choice but to follow their instructions and begin a new life in the West. Besides, River Bend was no longer hers.
    She swept down the grand staircase, reminded again of how the rich green carpet mirrored the thick lawns surrounding the house. Of all the times she and her brothers and Isaac had played on these stairs, bouncing down them, sliding on the ornate banister rail, always in danger of a stern reprimand from Mama. Oh, to be so young and carefree again!
    Isaac, his forehead glistening with sweat, came across the polished floor of the grand hallway to meet her. “We’ve had lots of happy times in this house, haven’t we?” His voice was wistful.
    Elsie grinned. “I was just remembering the fun we had here on these stairs. Remember the time Mama spanked us all for sliding down the banister?”
    Isaac rubbed his bottom playfully. “Yep. I can still feel the sting of that willow branch!”
    “But it didn’t stop us from trying it again every time Mama’s back was turned.” Elsie brushed a tear from her cheek. “But those times are over now – we’re all grown up, with grown-up responsibilities and problems.”
    Isaac ran past her, heading up the stairs. “You may be grown up, but I want one last ride!”
    He swooshed down the banister, laughing as he landed with a thud at the bottom. “Come on, Elsie. Try it,” he urged. “For old times’ sake!”
    Giggling, Elsie rushed to the top of the stairs and lifted her skirts. With a whoosh and a thud, she joined Isaac on the floor at the bottom. “You sure know how to bring a girl out of the doldrums!” she exclaimed,
    “Well, my mama didn’t name me Isaac for nothing. She said my name meant laughter, and I guess she knew we all need a little laughter in life.”
    At the mention of Isaac’s mother, both young people sobered. Elsie knew the story of Amanda, having heard it many times as proof of the evils of slavery. As a young girl, Amanda had been bought as a concubine by a Virginia planter. Her first baby had been taken from her a few hours after birth on the orders of her master’s wife, who didn’t want a daily reminder of her husband’s adultery.
    Grief-stricken, Amanda had refused to eat. She had become so sickly, her owner became disenchanted with her and sold her at auction. It was there Papa had found her and determined to restore her to health. Amanda had married another of the Condit slaves and later gave birth to Isaac, but she mourned the loss of her firstborn until her death.
    Elsie broke the silence. “If you made her laugh even half as much as you do me, you’ve lived up to your name!”
    Isaac grinned. “Well, a fella’s got to be of some use in this world. Right now, I’d best get the trunks loaded in the carriage and head for the dock. That riverboat will be coming around the bend right soon.”
    Elsie paused as she stepped out onto the veranda. Summer’s heat had come early and with a vengeance. “It must be close to 100 degrees,” she said, trying to hide from the burning sun under her bonnet and parasol as she walked toward the carriage. “I declare, I’ve never been so hot!”
    As the carriage bounced down the lane, Elsie