“You cannot speak to me that way.” Gerald glared. “What I provide is the chance of discovery. Doctors make the greatest strides with these goods. An entire medical society depends on me.”
Braham recalled the letter to Dr. Brown. He shook his head. “But to kill for it … to do what you have done. Your father would be—”
“My father, Braham. Remember, he was mine,” Gerald fumed. “A far nobler man than yours was.”
Braham would not retort, not now. Even if the cruelty his father endured was, in part, due to this monger of greed.
“I just wanted to do the job I was entrusted with by your father. We could have been friends.”
Gerald sneered. “Never. You are just a pathetic servant. You always will be.”
Braham tied Gerald’s wrists tightly. “I would rather be a servant than what you are. One day I pray that you will remember the footsteps you could have followed. And I hope that you get a second chance to deserve the title of Bates Jr.” He secured the knot and stepped back, begging God that he would never forget to keep his word and pray.
With a sigh, he walked over to tie Audra’s hands, but she hadn’t stopped struggling in Alvin’s firm embrace. She thrust her head back and hit Alvin in the face. He let go, grabbing his nose that gushed with blood. Audra ran toward their cart.
“Get her!” Constable James called out. Buck Walters took off after her, and Braham tossed the rope down and also tried to chase her down. A cry filled the night, and then another. His heart sped up as he realized it wasn’t Audra’s cry.
“Josie!”
The two women were on the crest of the hill. Audra had Josie by the hair, and Josie was trying to pull her down to the ground.
“Get off me,” Audra shouted. She whipped her arms up, and Josie lost her grip. With a vicious shove, Audra pushed Josie down the slope. Braham lunged forward, but Josie tumbled down into the darkness. Before Audra could run, Braham was close enough to grab her and pin her down.
“It is over, Audra.” Alvin came up and began to tie the rope around her wrists. “Go, Braham, check on Josephine.”
Braham’s chest constricted as he took careful steps, trying to make his way in the darkness. “Josie?” he called out.
He heard nothing.
Panic gripped him.
The moonlight brightened, and a few yards away, he saw her. She was crumpled in the same position he had found her in inside the trunk. When he turned her from the muddy earth, he noticed that a large rock jutted from the ground where her head had been. She appeared lifeless. “Josie,” he whispered, gently shaking her. Her temple gushed with blood. He hooked his arm under hers, and as he stood up he threaded his other arm beneath her legs and lifted her against his chest. “Please wake up, my sweet Josie.”
No matter how much he begged her to awake, though, she hardly moved. Her eyes remained closed, and her breathing was shallow. The moonlight’s cast on her skin heightened Braham’s worry—she was more a ghost than a girl. She seemed more dead than alive.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his staggered breaths. “We need to go. She is badly injured,” he barked at the men who were loading Gerald in his own cart filled with evidence of his sick network. “Constable James, good luck in Boston. Alvin, drive us home.”
He took long strides to the cart, passing up Alvin as he dragged Audra over to the constable. Braham was done worrying about them. The only thing that mattered was getting Josie help. After all they had been through, what would he do if anything happened to Josie Clay?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Josephine Clayton batted her eyelashes in the bright warm light. A pleasant smell of lilacs filled the room, and she felt as though she lay on a cloud.
“Josie, you are awake.” Braham’s loving face appeared above her, and his soft lips brushed her forehead. If she had found her way to heaven, she would believe it now.
“Where am I?” She tried to sit up, but a pang gnawed at the side of her head. She sank back into the pillow with a wince.
“You are in your room. At your father’s house.”
“My father’s house.” A smile spread on her lips despite her aching head. “Oh Braham. He is home again?”
“Soon, my love. He will be.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “We ran into a terrible storm on the way to Gloughton. Alvin thought it best that we come here instead since it is not as far west as Gloughton is south.”
“You will be just fine.” Daisy appeared beside Braham. “Hit your head hard. There’s an awful bump under that bandage.”
“Daisy, what are you doing here?”
“We sent for her a couple days ago,” Braham said. “She gave you a proper dressing. She’s stayed with you each night to be sure you didn’t need anything.” He nodded toward a pallet beneath the window. “I’ve made a bed by the kitchen fire.” He rubbed his neck and stretched out his back.
Josephine reached up and touched her forehead gently. She found the edges of the cloth. “How long have we been here?”
“Three days. You’ve slept quite a bit.” Daisy straightened the bedcovers. “You are a stubborn patient. I have forced you to drink several times.”
“I am sorry, I don’t recall a thing.”
“After all you went through, it’s no wonder you’ve slept so much.” Daisy frowned, her shoulders drooping. “I am the one who is sorry. I did not trust you, Miss Clayton. Minnie was my dearest friend. I did not expect her lies.”
“I understand. It was hard for me to not believe that I had ruined the remedy. Audra is very convincing.” Josephine gave a soft laugh. “Where is Minnie now?”
“She is going south again. Wants to start new—well, restart again. Braham sent her with the new manager for Terryhold.” Daisy gave a weak smile to Braham then reached over and squeezed Josephine’s hand. “And she is ever sorry for all she has done.”
“She was coaxed by her sister,” Braham muttered. “And Minnie had no family but that Audra. It is a shame. We both lost our only family this week.” He pressed his lips together and sighed.
Josephine gave his hand a squeeze. While she’d suffered injury, this week had been hardest on Braham’s heart. She turned the conversation. “Who is the new manager for Terryhold?”
“The most trustworthy man I know—my best overseer, Tom,” Braham declared. “He will make the necessary changes needed to bring fairness to Terryhold. Especially for my friends. I plan to visit him down there soon.”
“I am sure your friends down there will be happy to see you,” she offered.
His eyes flashed with joy. “Maybe you’ll meet them one day.”
Her heart leapt at all the hope held in that wonderful maybe.
“I will finish cooking dinner. They will be here any minute.” Daisy raised her eyebrows in anticipation then swiveled around and disappeared.
“Who will be here?” Josephine asked Braham, who wore a broad, flashing smile. “Father?”
A door banged shut at the front of the house.
“Come, let us see.” He took her hand and helped her stand. Her legs were wobbly. She held on to Braham’s arm and took slow steps. Her temple throbbed beneath the bandage.
The floor creaked in the exact places that it should. Her childhood home was second only to Braham’s loving embrace as her favorite place to be. She had both right now. She snuggled close to his neck.
“She is probably sleeping still …” Alvin’s voice carried from the front room.
Josephine turned her head quickly, a pang caused her to wince again. Her father leaned against the mantel by her mother’s jars. Every crease in his face was lit by the streaming sunlight. He’d grown older. She hadn’t noticed it before. Now, in the home where she had grown safe and sound beneath the wings of her mother and the hardworking provision of her father, she realized the time that printed on him. So much had changed since those days. Death had led them both down dark paths. Now, his crippled body stood beside fresh blooms on the mantel, just like those that
perfumed her room. In this bright sunny place, all was righted. Although much had been lost, at least this was found—light had won in the dark places of this life, no matter how difficult the journey. She would never forget that.
“Father, you’re free,” she called from across the room.
He turned, lifted his hands, and strode over as best as he could. “My dear Josephine,” he warbled with tears streaming down his face. “I was so stricken by my grief that I never rejoiced in your second chance at living.” He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her three times on her forehead—just like her mother had always done.
“There was so much to deal with.” Josephine spoke through her own tears. “It is finally over.” She rested her head on Braham’s shoulder, aware of the throbbing in her neck.
Her father regarded Braham. “Thank you for caring for her, young man.”
“There is nothing I’d rather do more,” Braham replied, squeezing her close to him.
Daisy called them in to eat. The savory aroma of rosemary and garlic promised a salve to Josephine’s grumbling stomach. She leaned back on the chair, trying to eat without moving too much. By the end of the meal, she was tired and ready to sleep again. Yet more than the meal had satiated her. The conversation had filled her up. Alvin and her father discussed a plan to resurrect the farm again. Daisy had already begun to clean up around the house. Josephine would finish it when she was well.
“When will I return to the factory?” she asked as they all left the table.
Braham once again offered his arm, and she pulled herself up. “Do not worry, love. The cotton can wait. You must get well.”
“Let me sleep a bit.” She yawned. “Then I’d like to take you to meet someone.”
He arched a brow. “Whatever you’d like, Miss Clayton.”
She slept soundly, and when she awoke, the room was lit by the silvery light of morning. Had she slept through the night? She carefully sat up and found the floor with her feet. Voices carried from the other room. She tapped around the bandage on her head. Her pain was less, and she felt even more rested than before.
When she entered the front room, Braham was drinking from a steaming cup on the window seat while Daisy admired the jars on the shelf.
“I am glad you both are still here,” Josephine said. They gaped at her.
Braham jumped to his feet and rushed to her. “You are well? We did not expect you to sleep through till morning.”
“Do not worry, Mr. Taylor.” She laughed. “Tending to the mill girls deprived me of sleep. I suppose I am just catching up.”
“Does it hurt?” Daisy approached, eyeing her bandage.
“Just slightly.” She patted Daisy’s arm. “Daisy, you are welcome to take anything you think you could use.” Josephine nodded to the mantel and shelves.
“But aren’t they your mother’s?”
“Yes, but she would like them to be used.” Josephine sighed. “She would like them to continue to heal others.”
“Thank you, Josephine.” Daisy glided across the room and began to search among the jars.
“Braham, can we go for a walk?” She held out her hand.
He took it. “You lead the way.”
They stepped onto the same farm that appeared dilapidated and beyond repair just days ago. Now, it glistened with potential. The plans discussed at dinner came to mind. She could almost hear the new chickens from Wednesday’s market, and the snort of the pig that Alvin would purchase from old Farmer Jamison. Hammering came from the barn followed by the voices of Alvin and her father.
She could not help but smile.
Braham placed her hand through his arm, and she stayed close beside him as they walked to her mother’s grave.
“‘Belinda Clayton, loving mother and wife,’” Braham read on the gravestone. “A beautiful name.”
“She was a beautiful woman.” Josephine sighed.
The warm summer breeze lifted the brown locks from Braham’s forehead. “Do you still worry about what she thinks of you?”
“What?” She tilted her head.
Braham slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “One morning by the fire, you said you were concerned about what she might think.”
“My valley was pressing in on all sides then.” She rested her head beneath his chin, relieving the ache from her wound. “Your words had been a comfort and a curse—look forward, you said, for there was no use looking back.”
“I do not know if I still believe that. Not now that I have so much to look back on.” He pulled away, and she looked up into his tender gaze. “Who would have thought that we would meet as we did, and that we would stand here as we are today?”
Josephine grinned. “My mother once told me that my passion would lead to my purpose. And just like hers, mine is helping the sick. Yet I believe God carved my path to something greater.” She pressed her lips together, admiring this strong friend. All the medicine and herbs that she had so loved offered no match to the joy this man brought her. He was a salve to so much of her misery, her discomfort, her shame. He had witnessed her true self, even behind the mask of a secret. “Braham, my purpose was my path to you. Just as you said you prayed that immeasurable good would come to me that night in Fran’s kitchen. It has—because of you.”
“You are my greatest friend, Josephine Clayton.” He furrowed his brow. “The closest person I have to family.” Braham stepped away, the warm breeze gushing between them as he dropped to his knee.
The wind had little strength compared to the anticipation that flooded every corner of her heart. Braham’s soft brown eyes danced with all she felt—a love so light, as pure as cotton, with not one strand of tangled web.
Braham rubbed his finger over her knuckle as he spoke. “Your father was hesitant to give his blessing, only because he wearied of the thought of having to visit Gloughton so often.” His mouth tugged up at one corner, and he winked. “I told him, if you accept, we would visit him equally.”
“Oh Braham,” Josephine exclaimed, squeezing his hands tightly.
“Josephine, Josie, Miss Clay—” He smiled wide. “Miss Elderberry.” They both laughed. “Will you marry me?” His teeth rested on his lip, and he searched her gaze as if he were not sure of the answer. How could he not be certain?
She giggled and fell to her knees. “Yes, of course, my dear Mr. Taylor. There is nothing I want more.”
As Braham gathered her in his arms, Josie was certain that the nightmare had faded away, leaving only this dream filled with goodness, brighter than the morning sun and more constant than a lantern’s shine.
Dear Reader,
I suspect you wonder what in the world is true about Josephine’s tale. While Gloughton and Ainsley are fictional towns, there are several factual threads that make up such a yarn. The true crime of body snatching was more rampant than rare throughout history, and as I dug into research, I discovered how common this practice was amidst the 19th century medical community.
Because of the lack of medical advancement, doctors sometimes mistook a person as being truly dead, ending in the alarming outcome of “live” burials. These types of horrific mistakes, along with the desire for finding cures, led many doctors to hire body snatchers, or “resurrection men,” to obtain corpses for research purposes. I was surprised to come across a case where several stolen bodies supplied an entire medical society, but more disturbing was the fact that some body snatchers would even murder for the chance of payment.
Outraged relatives of the deceased pressured officials for justice, and by 1815 in Boston, an act to protect the “Sepulchres of the Dead” passed, declaring body snatching illegal (see www.truecolorscrime.com for the actual act). Several snatchers ventured to New York to continue supplying doctors around Boston.
As precautions were made to protect gravesites, body snatchers would hire women to pose as mourners and keep watch for any obstacles that might thwart a quick retrieval. It is a very real fact that body snatching was not alwa
ys a lonely business, but one that depended on a type of network.
Many other factual tidbits are laced in Josephine’s tale. If you’d like to contact me or learn more about my books, sign up for my newsletter at www.angiedicken.com.
Thanks for reading!
Angie Dicken
Angie Dicken credits her love of story to reading British literature during life as a military kid in England. Now living in the US heartland, she’s a member of ACFW, sharing about author life with her fellow Alley Cats on The Writer’s Alley blog and Facebook page. Besides writing, she is a busy mom of four and works in adult ministry. Angie enjoys eclectic new restaurants, authentic conversation with friends, and date nights with her Texas Aggie husband. Connect with her online at www.angiedicken.com.
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