by Kaki Warner
“I will. Be careful, Thomas.”
“And you.”
Then, while he still had the strength to leave her, he hurried into the night.
The man named Chester was waiting when he arrived a few minutes later at the abandoned metal works. With him were two sturdy horses and a tall, broad, hairless man who was even bigger than Declan Brodie, the largest man in Heartbreak Creek. His skin was so dark it was hard for Thomas to read his expression in the moonless night.
Chester danced like a new foal, probably nervous because Thomas had frightened him the previous night. He looked around, his feet shuffling from side to side. “It so dark. How you see where you going?”
“Na’tsehe’stahe. I am Cheyenne.”
Thomas moved closer to study Mose Solomon, stepping to the side to draw the hulking man’s face toward the faint torchlight coming from the area where the tent and food wagons stood.
He wore tattered overalls, the strap on one side held together by a shred of cloth that was the same color as his shirt. He had no coat and shivered when the breeze moaned through the broken windows of the metal works building. There was pride in his stance and a forward thrust to his chin. His hands were big, and made big fists at his side. Satisfied, Thomas nodded.
“Do what I say, Mose Solomon, and I will keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“Yessuh.”
“Do not call me sir. My white name is Thomas Redstone. Will you fight if we are set upon?” Thomas needed to know if he could count on this man.
“Fight?” Chester looked fearfully around. “You ’spectin’ trouble?”
“I’ll fight,” Mose Solomon said.
“Epeva’e. That is good.” Thomas held out his hand in the white man way.
The big black man accepted it. His grip was firm and strong, his palm rough with calluses and broader than any Thomas had ever held.
“You have no coat?” Thomas asked him.
“I be fine.”
Thomas knew he would not be fine. They would have to set a fast pace, and the cold would cut through his thin shirt and make him shiver until his strength ran out. Thomas wore two shirts under his coat, and even he felt the chill.
“They’s blankets tied behind the saddle,” Chester offered. “And food in the saddlebags. Maybe even gloves. Headin’ north, are you?”
Thomas found not only food and gloves in the bags, but also two pistols and a box of bullets. Apparently, whoever had arranged for Mose’s escape was not a Quaker. With his long knife, he cut a slit in the center of one of the blankets to make a poncho for the big black man.
“Good folks up north.” Shoulders hunched against the cold, Chester watched Thomas cut off several long strips of latigo leather from one of the saddles. “Quakers, I hear.”
After tying the leathers into one long strip, Thomas gave it to Mose Solomon to belt the poncho at his waist.
Chester stomped his feet and looked around. “’Specially around Westfield. Got a whole bunch of Quakers up there.”
Deciding to leave the bigger, heavier sorrel for the black man, Thomas vaulted up onto the long-legged bay. He watched Mose Solomon speak quietly to the sorrel before gathering his reins and mounting, and was satisfied the man knew his way around horses.
“That where you’re headed?” Chester asked. “Westfield?”
Thomas looked down at him. “Who told you to ask, Chester Hogan?”
“What? No. Nobody.” The nervous man backed away, palms upraised. “I just wonderin’ is all.”
“This is good. Because if someone follows us, I will have to kill him. Then I will have to come back and kill you.”
Chester made a garbled sound.
With a nod to Mose Solomon, Thomas reined his horse away from the rail yard and north toward Westfield.
* * *
“He not a very good daddy,” Lillie complained as Pru led her past the vendor carts after the gospel meeting broke up. “Runnin’ off like that.”
“He stayed long enough to hear you sing. And he was as proud of you as I was.” Pru slowed to guide the girl over the tracks behind the depot. “Told me so himself.”
“Where he at, anyways?”
“Yes, where?” a voice said, startling Pru. She turned to see Marsh less than a dozen feet behind them. Had he been following them all along?
“Where did your Mr. Redstone go?” he asked, coming up beside them. “Or is he still in a tiff about your going to Washington?”
“We haven’t discussed Washington.” Pru continued toward the hotel, Lillie’s hand tight in hers. “Nor have I decided if I’ll go or not.”
“Haven’t you?” Marsh fell into step beside them. “When you left the meeting early, I assumed it was to talk it over with him.”
“You leave, too?” Lillie accused.
“Just for a moment,” Pru assured her, then to Marsh, added, “Thomas was in a hurry. We only exchanged a few words.” And a kiss that still left her weak.
“Gone where, do you suppose?”
“I don’t know.” It didn’t bother Pru in the least to lie to this man. “He’s very independent, and not given to explaining himself. He’ll return when he’s ready.”
“Will he miss the fund-raiser, too, do you think?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
They walked in silence for a moment, then Marsh smiled down at Lillie. “Senator Brooks said very nice things about you, Lillie.”
“Who he?”
“An important man. He helps run a special school for children like you.”
“Po’ little blind black orphan chilrin?”
“Among others.”
“I not like school.”
“You might like this one. And Senator Brooks said he would be happy to have you join the other students while Miss Lincoln is in Washington.”
“I haven’t yet decided to go,” Pru reminded him.
That oily smile. “I really think you should, my dear. Your initiative is vital to our plans.”
Our plans? Why was her being there so important that he would use a child to force her to go?
“I realize you’re concerned about the girl, Miss Lincoln. But I assure you she’ll be quite safe at the school until you return.”
Pru kept her head down so he wouldn’t see her rising panic. Senator Brooks was no better than Marsh was. She had instantly distrusted him when she’d met him before the service began. He oozed that self-righteous contempt that overbearing, self-important people wore like armor. And no matter what Marsh said, Brooks had not been “taken” with Lillie. Rather, he seemed to regard her as a new recruit for his lunatic asylum. He probably got a stipend from the government for every child at the school.
As if Thomas would ever be parted from Lillie.
“Tell the senator I appreciate his interest, but I will be taking Lillie to Colorado.” She had said it on impulse, but as soon as the words left her mouth she knew it was the right decision. She and Thomas could make Lillie’s life richer than the senator and his school ever could.
“Fo’ true?” Lillie squeaked.
“I doubt that would be possible,” Marsh cut in.
Pru’s steps faltered. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she turned to Marsh. “Why not?”
“Because she’s not your child, Miss Lincoln. She’s a ward of the state.”
“Then I’ll adopt her.”
“What ’dopt mean?”
Marsh shook his head and resumed walking, forcing Pru to hurry to keep up. “An unmarried woman? No judge would allow it. But if it is something you want to pursue, we can discuss it more fully when you return from Washington. Well, I see we’re here.”
Pru only then realized they had reached the Beckworth Arms. Forcing her lips into a smile, she said, “Thank you for walking us back, Mr. Marsh. But we’ll bid you
good night now. Lillie is quite tired.”
“Of course.” Marsh tipped his hat. “Sleep well. Tomorrow will be a big day. For all of us, I suspect.”
As soon as they walked into the lobby, Pru asked the desk clerk for a pad and pencil, then scribbled a note to Brother Sampson. As she pushed it across the counter, she told the clerk to see that the reverend got it the moment he returned. “It’s terribly important that he get this as soon as possible.”
She watched the clerk slip the note into the slot marked 206, then headed upstairs. If for some reason Brother didn’t get the note tonight, she would go to his room herself. There was more than one way to stop Marsh and keep Lillie safe, and she had only a day to do it.
* * *
Knowing they could move faster in the dark on smooth land, Thomas stayed on the road, rather than risk damage to the horses on a less-traveled trail. He set a hard pace, varying their speed from walk to trot to lope, then back down again, so the horses would not get winded or tire too soon. And always, he stayed alert, eyes scanning the ground in front of his horse, ears cocked for riders coming up behind them.
He did not trust Chester. A man so easy to frighten would be quick to talk if pushed. “Did you see anyone follow you and Chester?” he asked Mose Solomon.
“I wasn’t lookin’. But Chester, he seem mighty nervous.”
Frowning, Thomas nudged his horse into a trot.
Since leaving behind the lights of the city, his vision had adjusted to the darkness. Even though there was no moon, the cloudless sky was not completely black. The stars sprinkled overhead gave enough light for him to see a darker outline against the deep blue of the night sky.
A line of trees. Pines, he guessed, since the shadows were tall and the branches short. Deciding this would be as good a place as any to rest the horses, Thomas reined off the road. As they moved silently across the frost-curled grass, the white trunks of aspens showed in the shadows beyond the pines, and his bay picked up his pace. Where there was aspen, there was water.
In a meadow bordered by trees on one side and a sluggish creek on the other, they dismounted and loosened the girths of their saddles. Thomas let the horses drink a small amount, then moved them away from the water to graze in the clearing. The breeze had strengthened, and it swept through the long pine needles with a sound like rushing water. Needing a quieter place to listen for followers, he left Mose Solomon to watch over the horses and went closer to the road.
Half hidden behind a stump, he waited for a long time, but saw and heard nothing. Finally, he rose on cold-stiffened legs and went back to the clearing.
The black man stood on the bank of the creek, giving the horses another drink. “See anything?”
Thomas shook his head.
After tightening the girths on their saddles, they mounted again and went back to the road. Thomas stopped often to look behind them and listen for followers, but other than a farmer taking a wagon of hay to town, no one else was out in the dark. Occasionally, a dog barked in the distance, warning them away from a lonely farmhouse. Once, a horse whinnied from a field nearby, but for most of the night, they rode without speaking, the clomp of the horses’ hooves the only sounds to break the silence.
Thomas thought often of Prudence. He knew the chance for them to make a life together was slipping away, but he did not know how to stop it. Or even if he should. Perhaps he was holding on to her too hard, using her as a crutch for all he lacked. Maybe they were not meant to be together.
The thought settled like a stone in his chest.
They rode on. The ride seemed endless. Then the sky began to fade into a paler blue, and a faint smear of light kissed the horizon to the east.
Relieved to be nearing the end of this half of his journey, Thomas pushed the weary horses faster. It wasn’t until he saw the lights of Westfield winking to life through the trees ahead that he heard the sound of horses behind them. Coming fast.
* * *
As soon as Lillie fell asleep, Pru tiptoed into the hall, locked the door behind her, then hurried to room 206. Luckily Brother was still dressed.
Ignoring his look of surprise, she slipped past him into the room. “Didn’t you get the note I left with the clerk?”
“The clerk wasn’t at the desk. Is something wrong, Miss Lincoln?”
“Can you perform marriage ceremonies?”
He blinked in surprise—then smiled. “You and Mr. Redstone?”
“Yes. How soon can you marry us?”
“Tomorrow, if the courthouse is open and I can get a license.” His smile faded into a look of concern. “Why the rush, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She told him all that Marsh had said, and about her suspicion that he wanted to put Lillie into the senator’s school to ensure that Pru would go with them to Washington to present her initiative. “I don’t know why it’s so important that I be there. You’re going. Why can’t you present it?”
“He’ll have a better chance of success with you. I heard him tell Brooks that if the initiative succeeds and a committee on Negro education is formed, they’ll need someone to run it. Why not him?”
Pru’s knees almost buckled. A man as evil and corrupt as Marsh would bleed off all the funds needed to help the Negroes. Her hard work would have been for nothing. “We have to stop him.”
She began to pace, thoughts bouncing through her mind. Without her, the initiative might fail. That was why Marsh was so determined that she be there. And the only way he could be sure she would cooperate . . . “He’s using Lillie.” That bastard!
Brother stared at her. “To what purpose? I don’t understand.”
“To make me behave.” She whirled to face him. “When I told him I wanted to adopt her, he said no judge would allow an unmarried woman to do that.”
“So you plan to marry Mr. Redstone and adopt her?”
She gave a shaky smile. “If they’ll have me.”
Eight
Early the next morning, Pru and Lillie went with Brother Sampson to the courthouse. Leaving Lillie on a bench just inside the Licensing and Records Office, Pru and Brother approached the man at the reception desk. It took some explaining—to both Brother and the harried clerk—about why the intended groom wasn’t with them, but eventually Brother was able to convince the clerk to issue the license.
It wouldn’t be the wedding Pru had envisioned—a hurried ceremony in a dismal hotel room with some hapless stranger as witness—but perhaps later she and Thomas could have a real ceremony in Heartbreak Creek. Edwina would probably insist on it, assuming they could get Thomas into the church.
“Don’t tell Lillie about it yet,” Pru whispered to Brother before they collected the girl chatting happily to Miss Minty. “I want to surprise her.”
“When do you expect Mr. Redstone back?”
“Tonight. After the fund-raiser. Can you do the ceremony then?”
“I can. We’ll need a witness, though. Perhaps the man at the hotel desk will agree to it.”
“Let’s hope adopting Lillie will go as smoothly.”
The records clerk had given them a stack of papers to fill out and the name of a judge who might expedite matters. For the first time, Pru welcomed white indifference. It was obvious by the clerk’s attitude that legal matters pertaining to coloreds weren’t as strictly monitored as those involving whites.
Sending Lillie with Brother to oversee the dismantling of the meeting tent, Pru sat on the bench in the courthouse hallway and filled out the adoption papers. After leaving them with Judge Kohler’s clerk, she promised to bring the marriage certificate tomorrow, then hurried back to the hotel.
At least now there was a record of her intention to adopt. And when she and Thomas brought proof of their marriage to Judge Kohler’s clerk tomorrow, they would find out what else they could do to expedite the adoption.
Adoption. Marriage. It w
as a great deal to take in all at once.
She and Thomas had never discussed a proper, legal marriage. Pru wasn’t sure Indians had formal marriage rites and had never pressed the matter. But if he knew this was the best way to protect Lillie, surely Thomas would go along with it.
An odd mix of emotions swirled in her head. Was this what she wanted? What Thomas wanted? All those obstacles still loomed before them. She knew they loved each other—there would never be any other man but Thomas in her life. And they both loved Lillie. Surely, they could overcome the hurdles ahead.
Just a few more hours.
If everything went as planned, before the night was over, she would be married and Lillie would be safe. Until then, all that remained was to get through the fund-raiser tonight, and the wedding ceremony after. Then they’d be free of Marsh forever.
It was dark when Brother Sampson escorted Pru and Lillie and Miss Minty into the lush home where the fund-raiser was being held. Pru saw immediately that other than the Negro servers in their white jackets and white gloves, the three of them were the only people of color at the crowded event. It made her nervous, all those white faces staring at them. Especially those announcing—with varying expressions of resentment, disdain, or forced amiability—that coloreds didn’t belong here among them.
Pru tried not to take it personally. Having been emancipated by her white father on the day of her birth, she had never been a slave. As proof, she still carried the manumission papers everywhere she traveled—out of fear or pride, she wasn’t sure which. In addition, and also because of her white father’s generosity, she had an education equal to or better than that of any white woman in this room.
But she wasn’t their equal. The inescapable truth was that even with her white blood and high learning, she would never belong among these wealthy, finely dressed white people, any more than her black blood made her acceptable to the Negroes she saw wandering the streets, lost and bewildered by sudden freedom and unsure what to do with it.
Raised to think, rather than fearfully submit, she was despised by whites for her presumption, and resented by blacks for being blessed with advantages they had never had. She could do little to change the former, but she could certainly use those advantages to help those who had suffered so much more than she.