Beyond the Valley, page 25
“They frighten you, Sarah?” Sawyer stood beside her. She did not answer. “They look hungry don’t they?” He leaned closer.
She clenched her teeth. “Do not speak to me.”
He leaned into her ear. “You may speak to me in that haughty manner now. But after tonight, your pride will be humbled.”
She jerked away and shot him a startled glance. “What do you mean?”
“You will see.” With a smug smile, he stepped away and joined the others at the foot of the platform. He crossed his arms over his chest, set his legs wide, and stared back at her.
“The best of the lot, gentlemen,” the auctioneer announced. “Which of you need stronger laborers? Who will start the bidding?”
Sarah watched Laban Thrasher shoulder his way through the crowd. She knew by the gleam in his eyes that he was anxious to gain money by her sale. “Auction the girl first,” he called out.
The auctioneer looked down at him with his brows pinched. “Why, Mr. Thrasher? It makes no difference.”
“With the money I get for her, I can bid on those big fellows. I am in need of hardy men who can work my fields.” Proud of himself, he threw back his shoulders. “I have acquired a large tract of land in Virginia that will be one of the most prosperous plantations that side of the Potomac.”
“Have you now? Bid for them and pay when we are finished with the auction.”
He held out his empty, greedy hands. “How am I to know how much to bid if I do not know how much money I have made?”
“Do any of you gentlemen object?” the auctioneer asked, craning his neck and looking the crowd over.
“I agree with Laban,” said the man whose waistcoat stretched across his belly. “It will save me time, for I am in need of a healthy woman.”
“I think we all are, Mr. Krude,” said the leaner man. His comment caused a round of laughter. “But my wife wouldn’t like her. She’d be jealous. Bring her forward and let’s see what happens.”
“Very well.” Giving in, the auctioneer made a motion to move the others off the platform. The manacles on their ankles and wrists rattled, deepening Sarah’s sorrow. How could men be so cruel to other men? How could they treat a woman in the same manner used when they bought a horse or cow, and not pity her misfortune?
With a sweep of his hand, the auctioneer then bid her to come up the steps. She stared up at him and stood. Then lifting her dress just above the soles of her feet, she made her way slowly up the steps.
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In the heat of the night, and in the glare of the lanterns, Sarah stood beside the auctioneer. She fixed her eyes on the doors at the far end of the barn. They were slightly open, and she could see the sway of the torchlight outside in the gloom. Someone had to come through them and redeem her—someone had to rescue her, else she would die on her feet.
A hand raised her chin. “Well, gentlemen. Here is the girl Mr. Thrasher is so quick to be rid of. Surprising, isn’t it?”
Forcing back tears, Sarah let a breath pass between her lips. The humiliation was too great to bear all over again. Her eyes cleared and she turned her face away from the hand that held it in an attempt to rally some pride. They could own her body, but they could not own her soul, she told herself. It belonged to God, and she could not be snatched out of His hand as long as she cleaved to Him.
“Indeed it is astonishing.” Krude’s eyes bulged in a steady stare. “She is even prettier up close. Irish or Scot?”
“Neither. She is English. Dare I say she knows how to keep a man warm on winter nights?”
Krude giggled, then plucked a handkerchief from his waistcoat and dabbed his sweaty neck with it. Disgusted, Sarah looked away. But where could her eyes go to avoid the salacious stares of the others? She shut her eyes tight.
God help me or let me die. I can take little more.
As if her life had come full circle, the memories of those days when she had been taken by deception and forced to stand on this very spot, flooded her. It all began with Jamie’s foolish choice. Then the heartless plans of Lem Locke and Mary’s lack of courage to stand up to him. And she blamed herself most of all for being so gullible and trusting. But she could not erase the past, or the mistakes she had made. Still, one face lingered, one voice spoke of loving her, one touch comforted her. She had believed his heart true, and even if she never saw him again, the memory of his unconditional love gave her strength.
Alex. Alex.
She kept her eyes closed, pictured him riding into the yard, carrying her bucket into the kitchen, placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, and declaring his love for her. Her dream of seeing him again, of him redeeming her from a life of misery, shattered.
She opened her eyes and looked down, caught the lustful gleam in Sawyer’s eyes. She knew then what he was about to do—the man who led her away with promises too good to be true, tempting her with a better life for her and her child.
As if a knife twisted in her breast, the painful remembrance of her stillborn babe and of the one she called daughter pushed her to tears again. She pressed her bound fists to her eyes but could not hold the tears back. Silently they slipped down her cheeks. Her knees buckled under the strain. The voices of the bidders ran together. As she began to fall, the auctioneer’s aide grabbed her arm and held her up.
“What’s wrong with her?” a man shouted.
“ ’Tis the heat that makes her faint,” said another.
“Or hunger,” Krude said. “Maybe Mr. Thrasher did not take good care of the girl like he should have.”
“I have not neglected her, sirs,” cried Laban Thrasher. “Auctioneer, give her water. The heat weakens her.”
A ladle touched her lips and she drank a bit. Then she took in a deep breath and faced the men once more.
“How many owners have owned this girl?” one man inquired.
The auctioneer shifted on his feet. “Makes no difference, but three.”
“Used goods. And I bet her back saw the lash often enough.”
The auctioneer glared at the man. “She is unmarred.”
“Well, I want proof before I bid,” said Krude.
The auctioneer shrugged. “If you must.”
He nodded to his aide, who placed his hands on Sarah’s shoulders and turned her around to face the crowd. She trembled, knowing what would come next. They would expose her flesh for all to see. The aide drew out a small knife and cut her stays. He placed the knife in its sheaf and then pulled open her dress to reveal her back, leaving her shoulders bare.
Disgraced and humiliated, Sarah hung her head.
“You see, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer. “Smooth as a white silk stocking. Not a mark on her. Skin as fair as a gentlewoman’s.”
Thrasher moaned. “Ah, I paid good money for that dress. You will add it into the price, sir.”
“Do you want her sold or not?”
“I do indeed.”
“Then please, no more comments from you,” the auctioneer said. “Now who will start the bidding?”
“One more thing,” said Mr. Krude.
“What now?”
“She has a strange way of walking. Let us see her limbs. She could have a club foot or bowlegs.” All over again, Sarah felt the heat of blood rush across her face. She wanted to run and hide herself from their eyes.
“She has neither. True, her gait sets her apart from the weaker females that toil in your fields. But she will make a good house servant, or even a wife. Look closely.”
The aide turned her around. She kept her eyes down. A staff touched the hem of her dress and lifted it above her calves to reveal her legs. The flush deepened and a cold chill swept over her. For a moment, she looked out at the men, saw lust spring into their eyes, watched them swallow with desire. She knew what any one of them would do to her if they owned her.
“Beautiful. Compare them to the tanned limbs of the girls working in the tobacco fields. Which would you prefer? Skin tough as leather, or smooth as silk and the color of cream?”
“Well, I have seen enough. She’s healthy and enchanting.” Krude smiled, his eyes flickered and his lips puckered. “I bid ten and five.”
“An insulting offer,” said the auctioneer.
“Twenty then,” Krude said with a wiggle of his stout fingers.
“I doubt that will satisfy. Higher, good sirs.”
“Thirty,” called out another man.
The auctioneer looked annoyed. “This girl has qualities any man would desire. Her fair skin alone should bring that price.”
The lean man scoffed. “Red hair and a temper to boot, I bet!”
“An old wives’ tale, gentlemen. What you see here is not an ill temperament but a virtuous disposition. She will work hard to please you, comfort you when you are sick, and praise you when you are not.”
“Alright then. Forty pounds,” cried Krude.
“Fifty,” cried another.
“One hundred pounds is not too much for such a woman, sirs.”
“One hundred.” Sawyer stepped between the bidders. He set his hands on his hips and turned to look at them with proud eyes. “I doubt any could go higher for this girl.”
Sarah whirled around to meet the eyes of the auctioneer. “I will not be bought by this man.”
“Be quiet, girl. You are not allowed to speak.”
“Please. Not him. He is the one who kidnapped me from England. He deceived me into leaving with him.”
Sawyer laughed. “I have never seen this girl until Mr. Thrasher and I located her, she being his deceased brother’s servant.”
“Liar!” Sarah could not hold back. “I would rather die than go with you!”
“You will hold your tongue, girl,” the auctioneer warned. “Any more outbursts and I will have you whipped.”
Dreading the thought of the lash across her bare back, she could speak no more. The idea that Sawyer wanted her for his own, for whatever reason—desire, vengeance—made her blood run cold. The thought of his hands upon her could not ever be. She glanced at the doors and then looked back over her shoulder at the way out behind her. Could she run? Could she escape to the hill above and slip into the dark night?
Again she hung her head knowing she would be stopped before she could reach the bottom step. And even if she were able to escape, they would search for her with torches and dogs.
“Bids, gentlemen.” The auctioneer waited. During the tense pause, Sarah prayed that Sawyer would not have her.
“One hundred and ten,” called out Krude. Sarah hoped his would be the final bid.
“One hundred and twenty-five.” Her heart sank at the sound of Sawyer’s insufferable voice. The pride. The arrogance.
She looked down at him, watched the ire grow in his eyes. She knew what it meant if he were to own her. He would abuse her, work her from before dawn until long after sunset. And worse of all, he would force his wicked desires upon her.
“Going once. Going twice. Sold to—”
“Two hundred in gold for her freedom,” cried a voice in the rear. All the men turned in surprise. Murmurs passed from lip to lip. Necks craned and heads turned from side to side to see who had called out such an offer.
Strangely thrilled, Sarah raised her eyes to see a man dressed in the garb of a frontiersman. He leaned back against the barn doors and crossed his arms over his chest. The wide brim of his hat and a day-old beard darkened his face. A hush fell over the crowd and she waited for the auctioneer to answer. Was this her redeemer sent to rescue her out of the mouth of the lion?
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The auctioneer motioned with his hands for the crowd to quiet down. He narrowed his eyes and looked directly at the man near the door. “Did I hear you correctly, sir? You bid two hundred?”
“Yes,” the man answered as he made his way to the front.
“In gold, you said?”
“Yes, in gold.”
“You have it in hand?”
“I do, and I am quick to be rid of it and free this girl from the misery she has lived.”
The bidder’s voice arrested Sarah. It sounded familiar and struck a chord within her heart. She drew her dress closer over her shoulders and watched him step forward. From his jacket he produced a pouch and looked up at her from beneath his hat. When their eyes met, her heart raced and she drew in a ragged breath and smiled at him. “Alex?” she whispered. At once fear left her. Her tears turned to joy, her body became light with happiness.
The years had made him older, but he was as handsome as ever. His eyes were the same kind and loving ones she remembered, his smile as warm and tender. After all this time, he still loved her. Sarah saw in his gaze a fire that burned like a rising sun. She wanted to leap off the platform and fall into his arms. His smile said he wanted her to, but to wait a few moments more.
Thrasher leaned up to the platform to speak to the auctioneer. “Take it, for goodness sake. No one will go any higher than that. I can buy three laborers with that kind of money.”
With a wave of his hand, the auctioneer addressed the crowd. “Does anyone bid higher?”
“Two hundred and one.” Sawyer set his boot upon a crate, drew out a moneybag and tossed it in his palm. “In gold.”
“Two hundred and five.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open and her senses reeled. She took a step forward. He had to win her, free her from Sawyer. Alex drew his eyes away from hers and looked at the auctioneer. “I can go higher, if this gentleman will. But I will outbid him.”
Abruptly Sawyer stepped forward, white with fury. “Blackguard!”
Alex’s eyes shifted to Sawyer. “I will pay any price to keep her out of your filthy hands. I know who and what you are.”
“We can settle it outside if you wish . . .”
“We will settle it now, fair and square. I have no wish to kill you, sir.” Alex looked at him without an ounce of fear.
Sawyer’s eyes locked with his. “You dare to—”
“I dare nothing, though you deserve a horsewhipping for your crimes. The higher bidder wins her. It is as simple as that.”
Sawyer’s mouth twisted. “A lashing, is it?”
“Some would say a rope would be more appropriate.”
Sawyer dragged off his hat and threw it down. Then he sprang at Alex with his hand on the hilt of his pistol. Sarah cried out and fell to her knees at the edge of the platform. This could not happen to her beloved. Not now!
With teeth bared Sawyer drew his weapon, but before he could take aim, Cread threw his arms around Sawyer from behind and held tight. “Oh, no, you don’t!”
The flintlock fired, missed its mark and hit a post. Men yelled and moved back.
“Let go of me, you oaf!” Sawyer twisted back and forth.
“Do as he says, Cread,” said Alex. “Let him go.”
“Alright. But if he tries something again, I’ll toss him in the river.” Cread opened his arms and Sawyer stumbled forward. Grinning, Cread drew out his hunting knife and touched the point of the blade with the tip of his finger. “You do not intend to reload that pistol, now do you, Mr. Sawyer?”
Sawyer went to retrieve it, but the auctioneer’s aide set his foot upon it then picked it up. “You are not supposed to fire weapons in here, Mr. Sawyer. I will have to hold it for you until you step outside.”
Then the auctioneer bent over the platform. “Have you a higher bid, Mr. Sawyer?”
Mr. Krude shouted, “Throw him out. He is a menace to us all.”
Others joined in. Outnumbered and in danger of being hauled from the tobacco barn, Sawyer brushed off his hat and set it on his head. “I withdraw my bid. She is not worth the trouble or the money.” Then, shifting his eyes among the men around him, he stormed off, his face scarlet with rage. It was then Sarah knew she would never see him again.
Alex tossed the moneybag up to the auctioneer and held his hand up to Sarah. She grasped it tight and he guided her down the steps.
“Alex! Alex!” Laughing with joy, she threw her arms around his neck. She nuzzled her face against his soft deer hide jacket and gathered it in her hands. To be so close to him made her feel safe, rescued. No man would ever call her his property again. No man would call her his servant.
She looked up into his eyes. “You let him go.”
“Believe me, my blood is hot for revenge. But he will be dealt with one day, whether in this life or face-to-face before God’s throne.”
With a swagger in his step, Cread approached the couple and drew off his hat to Sarah. “He never gave up his search for you, miss. I’m happy this all ended well.”
“Thank you, sir.” She looked up at Cread, fascinated by his rugged appearance and stalwart ways. “You helped him?”
“Aye, my dog and I. I’ve got to give old Scout some credit.” His eyes turned to Alex. “I’ll go out and be sure that rascal is on his way and not there to cause any more trouble.” He set his rifle in the crook of his arm and walked out through the milling crowd.
Alex escorted Sarah outside, leaving behind the haggling of the auctioneer and the bidding of Thrasher for laborers. For a moment, Sarah paused at the barn doors and looked back at the men on the platform. She wished there were a way to free them all. As she watched them, she knew then she would dedicate her life to exposing the horrors of this trade with her pen and her wits.
A light breeze stirred across the moonlit yard. Alex led Sarah to his horse. “Charger! You still have him.” She caressed Charger’s neck.
Torchlight danced across the wall of the barn and over Alex’s shoulders. He held the bill of sale up to one of the torches. It caught fire and when he set it on the ground, they watched it burn to black ash.
“You are free,” he told her. “And where do I begin? I searched and searched for you everywhere.”
