28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A Ride Home
Runaways.
Simon stared at his toes. The woman began to weep softly; the boy stood stiff as a statue. The wounded slave put his uninjured arm around the woman’s waist. “Hush, now, Nettie,” he murmured.
Landon whispered in her ear, “I think it’s best for us if we don’t know their destination.” He holstered the gun. “’Tis obvious they’re runaways. Unless you wish to force them back with us, the less we know, the better.”
She wondered what Simon’s part was in all this. Unlike her father and uncle, she hadn’t been able to adjust comfortably into the Lowcountry society of plantation owners and their families. If she were a slave, she’d run away too. She might still, depending on what transpired when she returned home.
She jerked her chin toward the othe
