Page 90 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

A staff or a handle of a rake knocked the lantern out of my hand, and then all I saw was blackness.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I groaned and touched the back of my head. There was light coming somewhere from my right. I tried to prop myself up on my elbows, but even that small motion caused my head to spin.

My eyes adjusted to the dark, and a large mass came at my head. I gasped and rolled over to protect my face when I felt something soft and wet blowing on me. I reached back and touched a hoof.

“Terror?” I whispered.

The horse blew hot breath on my neck.

Even though my head continued to throb, I sat up on my knees and hugged the horse’s neck. His skin was slick with sweat, and I wondered if he was ill. “It will be all right,” I told the horse even though I knew nothing of the kind.

I shook my head, and it felt like my brain was set loose and sloshed back and forth in my skull. I bent forward and held my head in between my hands. My palms were caked with dirt and smelled like horse and worse.

Terror pressed his wet nose onto the back of my neck. I had to get out of this barn for him and myself. And for Henry. I had to escape for Henry most of all. He would not want this fate for me.

The trouble was I didn’t know what my fate was. Who had hit me? I touched the back of my head and felt a bump there. And where was Emily? Had she been struck too?

All at once, a lantern swung back and forth from a man’s hand, and a face loomed over me.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” a man said.

In the wavering light of the lantern, I saw a familiar face, a face I had known since I was a child, a face that I had thought belonged to a friend.

“Mr.Milner?” I gasped.

“And who did you expect the Reader to be, Willa, but the reader of mail? All the mail. I know everything that happens in this town.”

I tried to get to my feet, but my head spun. “I don’t understand why you would hurt people.”

“That’s the most surprising part of this. I thought you would understand. You of all people who have been a servant all your life. I had the opportunity to make extra money so I could leave this thankless town and head west. Do you think my salary from the postal service allows that? I can assure you it does not.”

My heart raced. Where was Emily? Was she hurt?

“And just like your brother died, you will meet the same fate by the same horse.” He held up a red-hot piece of iron. This was how Terror got those burn marks on this flank.

I held my hands in front of me. “But why would you hurt runaways? If you’re angry about being a servant then why would you want to hurt someone who also lives a life of service?”

“Slaves, you mean? What use are they? They are no more important than that worthless horse in the stall with you.”

I felt sick as thoughts rushed through my mind. Emily’s letter to her father about something happening at the stables must have tipped Mr.Milner off that we knew too much. His wife told me he made frequent trips to the South. Why would he need to do that as a postmaster from a New England town? And he must have written that threatening note to scare me away. It would be so easy for him to put it in the mail. He was the mail service in Amherst after all. Only, he didn’t know I had moved to the Dickinsons, so I received the letter too late. Henry was too close, and threats would no longer work. He made the choice to kill my brother. And now, he was going to kill me.

The postmaster waved the hot piece of iron at Terror. Terror backed into the corner of the stall and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Leave the animal alone and just deal with me,” I shouted. It pained my head to cry out like that, but I had no choice.

He glared at me.

“Where’s Jeremiah?” I asked, fear gripping my heart. I knew better than to ask after Emily. I prayed that she had gotten away and was safe.

“He and Johnson are out there saving runaway slaves or so they think. They might save a few here and there, but they will never really win. Slavery is a national institution. It’s not going anywhere. There is too much money at stake. The almighty dollar is the true ruler of this country.”

“You killed Henry. You claimed you cared about him,” I accused. “You told me you were sorry he was dead. How could you say that to me knowing full well you are the reason I no longer have my brother?” My fear was turning toward anger. This man stole everything from me.

“I am sorry he’s dead, but he brought it on himself. I did not want to kill Henry. He forced me to do it. If it got out what my involvement was as the Reader, I would be ruined. There are too many sympathizers to the slaves in this town. I blame the college that there are so many abolitionists here. I would have been run out of my position as the postmaster in Amherst. Even if I was within my rights of the law to help a slave catcher reclaim his property, I would be ruined. I can’t be run from town yet. I don’t have money enough for the property I need. There is a piece of land that I have my eye on in Nebraska Territory. I almost have money for it. I was planning to leave in July. By then, I would have enough if everything had gone to plan.”

“But Henry ruined that plan,” I said, remembering what Mrs.Milner said about her husband’s dreams of moving out west. She had said that was the dream he and Henry had in common. It was the only thing they had in common, I realized. Henry and Mr.Milner could not be more different in their thinking.

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