On The Way to Nowhere ...
One
New Orleans, December 1870
Elnora Barstow wasn’t the most graceful thing in
the world but she wasn’t a total klutz either.
But wouldn’t you know, right when she needed her feet at their nimble
best, they failed her.
“Run, Miss Elle!” Jethro cried as he shoved
her into an alley and began to push her ahead of him at a rapid pace.
She stumbled down the alley only to trip and fall, the action toppling
Jethro over like a mighty tree. He
landed on the other side of her and with lightening speed jumped to his
feet. She didn’t realize a man of his
size could move so fast and let out a gasp of shock when he grabbed her and
pulled her up to stand before him. “We
gotta move Miss Elle! Dey be comin’
round da corner any minute lookin’ for ya!”
Elle glanced up at her escort and doing her
best to catch her breath, tried not to look frightened. “Surely we’ve lost them
by now?”
Jethro, one of Mrs. Ridgley’s two huge Negro
servants shook his head. “No ma’am. You
don’t know dis sort of men like I do. Now I gots to get you to da train station
and on your way before dem devils finds us!”
“But Mrs. Ridgley assured me this wouldn’t
happen!”
“Dat was before dat devil-man Mr. Slade found
out about you! He done been snoopin’
round da orphanage da last few days and must’ve got a look at ya somehow.”
Elle’s
face fell. Mrs. Teeters, the head of the
Winslow Orphanage, had warned her about a group of men who preyed upon the older
orphan girls and tried to find when any of their lot were to leave the safe
confines of Winslow’s walls. Having just
turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago, it was time for Elle to either find decent
work or a decent husband. Mrs. Teeters promptly
skipped the first option and insisted Elle take option number two; become a
mail order bride.
Elle took a deep breath. Option number two, however, was not supposed to involve running for
one’s life through the dark streets of New Orleans!
“Now don’t be makin’ no trouble for ol’ Jethro
Miss Elle. We gots to be on our
way!” He gave her another shove to get
her moving. She was about to comment
when a shot rang out.
Elle spun at the sound only to face Jethro, his face locked in pain, as
he sunk to his knees before her. “Run
Miss Elle!”
Elle looked up. A man with a gun was standing at the other
end of the alley. He grinned like the
devil as he slowly made his way toward her.
Elle gasped with panic. Jethro clutched at the left side of his chest,
his face locked in a horrible grimace as he grappled with the gun belt at his
side. “Jethro!”
“Why ain’t you runnin’? You gots
to run Miss Elle!”
She looked at the big Negro, her heart in her
throat. The bullet had passed clean
through, missing his heart, if it hadn’t he’d already be dead. She at least knew that much, she also knew
she couldn’t leave him. If she did he
would bleed to death. She didn’t have
much time.
She dropped her satchel to the ground and glanced
at their assailant who stood not twenty feet away, a gun still in his hand. He
reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a crisp linen
handkerchief. He casually dabbed the
sweat from his brow and the back of his neck as if he had all the time in the
world, then grinned at her once more. “Come along now and I’ll let him live,”
he drawled in a deep southern accent.
She looked to Jethro, horrified. “I can’t let
him kill you, Jethro. I can’t!”
Jethro fell forward and stopped himself with
one hand. He looked up at Elle with a
face so agonized it tore her heart out. “You gots to go, Miss Elle. Da train
ticket's in my right pocket. Take it and run! He’s gonna kill me no matter
what,” he rasped, his voice low. “Get me my gun …”
Elle’s eyes flew to the gun belt at his side
as Jethro pushed himself against a nearby brick wall into a sitting
position. Blood oozed from his wound and
soaked his shirt and vest.
“Come now girl, don’t waste my time,” the man
said casually. “What ever are you doing
talking with the likes of him? Back away
from him, now.”
Elle glanced at their assailant as she pulled
the train ticket from Jethro’s vest pocket then once again looked into the big
man’s pain-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to him.
“Run…” Jethro rasped as she handed him his
gun. “He won’t shoot you, you ain’t worth nothin’ dead.”
“I’m tired of waiting. Let’s end this now,”
the man said with a sneer as he began to stride toward them.
Elle didn’t think, she only acted when she
heard the audible click of Jethro’s gun and
watched as he struggled with the effort it took to lift the weapon. It was then everything slowed and time stood still. She
hadn’t realized she picked up Jethro’s hand, the gun cocked and ready, until her
small finger connected with his and they began to squeeze the trigger as one.
The shot was deafening and she reeled back
onto the hard ground. Jethro sat against
the wall, his head slumped to one side as, ears ringing, she shook her own head
and struggled to her knees. “Jethro!”
He looked up at her. “Run now, Miss Elle. Dat
devil ain’t gonna come after you no more, but … dere might be more on da way …”
Elle looked in horror at the man lying face
down on the ground not feet away. “Oh my
God! What have I done?” She looked
desperately back to Jethro. “I killed him?
Did I kill him? Oh God!”
“Run, Miss Elle,” Jethro said weakly.
Shouts could be heard heading for the
alley. “Jethro! Someone’s coming!”
“Bad men, good men, don’t know which. Run Miss Elle. Either way, I ain’t goin’
nowhere.”
Elle began to sob.
“Do it for me, run…” he said as he closed his
eyes and brought the gun to his chest where he weakly cocked it again.
Elle looked up one last time as the shouts
drew closer. She let out a final sob,
grabbed her satchel, got to her feet and ran.
Ran and prayed like she’d never prayed before. Would they be good men, or more like the one
that shot Jethro? How was she to
know? If she heard another gun shot that
meant they would have finished off the gentle giant. But if she didn’t, would
it mean they were good men tending to him, or bad men who didn’t have to
because he died the moment she jumped up and left?
Elle continued to run and stumble her
way to the train station wondering if she would ever know.
She fought for breath as she ran and saw the
conductor hop up into a car and shout his last call of “all aboard!” just
before the train whistle sounded. Elle
gave one final push with what strength she had left to make it. A man stood on the platform near one of the
train’s open doors. He glanced at her
before looking away, then quickly looked back and gave her a once over. Panic filled her as she saw his eyes
narrow. She ran for the nearest car and
took a flying leap into it, banged her knee on one of the steps and went
sprawling. She quickly looked over her shoulder and watched as the train moved
past the man but he gave no pursuit, as if he wasn’t sure of what to do. Neither did she. Elle wasn’t sure whether to sigh in relief or
cry at the horror that made up her evening.
She didn’t get the chance to do either
as someone yanked her to her feet. “What
do you think you’re doing running after the train like that? Are ya trying to get yourself killed?”
Elle looked dumbly up at the conductor’s
scowling face. “I’m … I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it,” she
pushed out.
“Are you all right?” he asked with an
impatient sigh.
She nodded as she brushed off the skirt of her
dress with one hand. She then noticed he
stood and eyed her warily. “I’m fine,”
she said.
He held out his hand. “Let’s have a look at
your ticket then.”
A chill went up her spine. She looked to the ticket she had crushed in
her other hand and prayed there wasn’t any blood on it. She’d been holding the
handle of her satchel in the same hand, but tossed it into the train car just
before she launched herself in after it.
She was surprised the ticket was still in her hand at all and silently
thanked the Lord as she held it out to him.
The conductor snatched it from her and read
it. “Long way to go, end of the line in fact.
Just where you heading, miss?”
Elle let go a long sigh as she retrieved her
satchel then turned to face him.
“Nowhere.”
