“Just do what he say,” the captain ordered.
“That’s right,” my husband said. “Manon, come stand behind me.” I did as he said. He’s going to save me, I thought, and a great perplexity came upon me. I was looking at his back, which was bloody from the waist down. Everyone was still but Walter, who groaned once, clutched his head in his hands, and sat up.
“Now we will walk out the door,” my husband said. “Just the three of us.” I looked back at Sarah, who was edging away from the table, her eyes on the wounded negro. Did my husband mean Sarah? But no, he meant the captain; that was the three of us. My husband pressed the barrel of the pistol into the captain’s ear and backed him toward the door.
Then we were outside, walking on the drive. The horse stood farther off on the lawn, calmly ripping up grass. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I went ahead, pulling my skirt up about my legs. There was one thought in my head, and that was to get to the horse. The captain was speaking. I dimly apprehended the purport of his message, that we were outnumbered, that it made little difference whether he was killed or not, my husband would not survive, he was a dead man.
“I am. You are,” my husband replied. “It’s just a question of who goes first.”
“Thas right,” the captain said. “Thas right.”
Perfect, I thought. They are in agreement.
The torch was growing dimmer with every second. I could make out the dining room doors and someone inside moving toward them. Where was the one with the rifle, who had run into the night at the sound of the horse? I scanned the bushes. The farther we got from the house, the darker it became. If I did get to the horse, which way should I ride? I heard voices from the house, raised, anxious, then a crash as if someone had dropped a tray of glasses. The sound of rapid footsteps came toward us across the lawn. My husband stopped, looked back, still keeping his pistol close to the captain’s ear, and I looked too. An eerie pale figure whirled toward us, its feet barely touching the ground.
After that everything happened quickly, though it felt as if time itself had fallen open like a book, and each new impression was completed, even recollected, before the next began. Walter, for of course it was he, threw himself at my husband’s legs with such force that he stumbled, cursing; the captain took advantage of his imbalance to knock the pistol from his hand. I fell to my knees, trying to reach the pistol. The captain kicked me in the face so hard that I sprawled upon the ground. Suddenly there were others running in all directions. A guard appeared, his butcher knife slicing the air before him, and gave chase to my husband, who had shaken Walter from his legs and was running. I got to my hands and knees. Sarah appeared outside the dining room doors, her hair and skirts flying, headed for the side of the house. My husband disappeared into a copse of crepe myrtle, his pursuer followed. I got to my feet and took a few steps toward the horse. The captain, having recovered the pistol, aimed it at me, shouting, “Stay there.” Another figure came running out from alongside the house, Sarah shouted, and the two ran to one another. Sarah changed directions, barely breaking her stride, and continued in the direction of the horse. “Where is the man?” the captain complained to me. Another guard, an enormous man brandishing a cane cutter, came lumbering up from nowhere, closing in on Sarah. To elude him she turned toward me. My face and chin were wet. I put my hand to my cheek and felt a gash in the flesh. It must have been his toenail, I thought. Blood was flooding my mouth; in the fall I’d bitten through my lip. As Sarah approached, her pursuer paused to light a torch.
In the blaze of light much was revealed. Walter collided with Sarah and clung to her skirt. I saw her face, her rage and desperation as she struggled to free herself. “Let me go,” she cried, kicking the creature, who released her, wailing in distress. Something was moving in the darkness just beyond the light. Sarah turned, pointed into the blackness, and shouted to the guard, who was very near her, “He there.” The captain walked away from me, blocking my view for a moment. In the next I saw a hellish tableau.
My husband was on his knees, struggling to rise. The big man held him by his hair. Sarah stood near him, clutching her baby close against her shoulder, her eyes on the cane knife, which the man raised high over his head. In the next moment the knife came down. There was the sickening sound of steel breaking through bone, and my husband’s head dropped forward into his chest at an impossible angle. The captain hailed his comrade, who stepped back to admire his handiwork. For a moment my husband was still, as if he might stand up; then he collapsed sidelong onto the grass. Sarah was running straight toward me. In my shock I failed to see that I stood between her and the horse, but by the time she was close I understood and reached out to stop her, catching her by the elbow. She turned on me in a fury, tearing at my face with her free hand, her sharp nails digging into my already wounded cheek. “They won’t hurt you,” I said. “Let me go first. They’ll kill me if you don’t.” She kicked me, knocking me aside, but I caught her again by the shoulder. She spun around quickly, loosening my grip, and sank her teeth into my hand. I cried out, released her, and she left me behind, running full out for the horse. I went after her, nearly catching up at one point. As I ran, I could hear the men laughing. Sarah outdistanced me, sprang into the saddle, startling the horse so that he reared, came down, sidestepped one way, then the other. Somehow, clutching the baby across her stomach, she gathered up the reins, gave a hard kick and took off, her skirt billowing out behind her.