“I’ll beg if I have to, Bertha, but you can spare me muddy knees if you’ll climb down and come here.”
“Why should I spare you anything?” she asked without looking up. “The sight of you on your knees might be just what I need to feel better.”
Thad swung his leg over the horse and dismounted. “Then it’s a small price to pay.”
By the time he reached the surrey, Bertha had turned. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He knelt in the cold, miry clay beside the road. “Making you feel better.”
“No, don’t!” She scurried to the edge of the seat and dropped her legs to the step. “Thad, you stop it right now.” She came even with him and took his arm, trying with little success to pull him to his feet.
Down on his knees, his face wasn’t much lower than hers. “Do you feel better yet? This ground is mighty cold.”
“All right. I feel better.”
“Will you stay awhile with me and let me explain?”
“Whatever you say. Just get up from there.”
The look she returned as he gazed up at her gave him courage. He got to his feet and pulled her in front of him. “I have so much I need to say to you. I just don’t know where to start.”
Magda cleared her throat. “While you’re trying to sort it out, kindly get out of the way so I can turn this thing around.”
Thad eased Bertha off the road, and Magda urged the horse around. She stopped beside them and leaned down. “I suppose you’ll get her safely home, then?”
Thad nodded, and she flicked the reins. He tucked Bertha under his arm, and they stood together while the surrey moved along Line Street toward town. He watched Bertha’s face as she stood staring after Magda. He had powerful feelings for the girl beside him, feelings that had gone unspoken for too long. So many nights he’d wrestled with his thoughts and his sheets, wondering if she felt the same. But he knew then what he knew now. He had no right to ask her.
“Bertha?”
She lifted teary eyes to his. “Yes?”
“Can you ever forgive me?”
“It’s true, then. You’re leaving Jefferson.”
“You knew one day I would.”
“Yes, one day. Just not tomorrow.” She blushed. “I thought we had more time.”
He reached to touch the soft spot under her chin. “I have no choice. My fate was decided a long time ago.”
Her brow furrowed. “Your fate? You make it sound like a trip to the gallows.” She whirled away from him with a swish of petticoats. “Surely a man can decide for himself if he’s ready for hanging?”
He took her by the shoulders. “You don’t understand, sugar. It’s Papa’s dream that I attend a good school and be the first college graduate in our family. I can’t let him down.”
Her frown deepened. “So it’s your Papa’s dream, not yours?”
“The man’s talked of little else since I can remember, planned and saved for years. I’ve watched Mama and Cyrus do without while he stashed away money for school.” Desperate for her understanding, he gripped her arms. “When Papa got wind of Texas AMC opening right there in Brazos County, it was all it took to send him over the edge.”
Thad let go of Bertha and began to plod back and forth. “You should see him when he talks about it. I tell you, his face lights up, and he looks ten years younger. The last few days. . .well, you’d think he was the one leaving for school in the morning.”
Bertha grabbed his arm to stop his pacing. “Do you hear yourself?” She tightened her grip on his arm. “Has any of this ever been about you?”
Her simple words leapt to life, striking hard and boring to the center of his gut, to the secret place where he’d buried the same ungrateful, disloyal question. Bertha, by voicing it aloud in her sweet, sincere voice, had rooted straight through and exposed it and somehow shed a different light on his betrayal.
“What are your dreams?” she persisted.
“My what?”
“Every man has dreams, Thad. What do you want out of life?”
He sighed. “Not much, really. All it would take to make me happy is some farmland, a pond for fishing, and a place to raise dogs.” He blushed and grinned. “And a good woman to share such bounty.”
“Dogs?” She laughed, but not at him, and he loved the throaty sound.
“Hunting dogs. Men pay top dollar for good hunting dogs.
With proper breeding and training, there’s money to be made.” Just talking about it stoked a fire deep in his heart. “Like Henry King’s bloodhound, for instance. Old Dickens is one fine-looking animal. Did you ever get a good look at him, Bertha?” He cupped his hands beside his head. “Ears on him like an elephant’s.”
She laughed louder. “Thaddeus Bloom, you’re glowing. You sure don’t shine like this when you talk about going to school.”
Thad looked away. He’d never clear his head by staring into her bewitching eyes. “Bertha, I should’ve told you I had to go before now. I have no excuse for such ill treatment, and I hope you’ll forgive me. But no matter how much I love you, only one thing really matters. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Nothing can change it.”
A hurt looked erased her glowing smile. She crossed her arms over her chest and presented him with her back.
He reached to touch her shoulder. “Bertha?”
She jerked her shoulder from under his hand and walked a few steps away. “You really think your leaving is all that matters, Thad? Well, you’re wrong.” She spun and ran at him, burrowing into his shirt. “I think loving each other should be what matters most.”
He didn’t trust himself to hold her the way he wanted, so he patted the top of her head as if she were a sister and then felt silly for having done it. Bertha loved him, too. She’d just said so. And he had nothing to offer for her trouble.
Thad moaned at the sky. “I don’t want to leave you, Bertha. Especially now. But I have to go, and I can’t take you with me.”
She nodded in his arms. “I know you have to go, and I understand. I really do. Though I can hardly bear the thought.”
“Will you write me? Your letters will make the time go by faster.” He mentally kicked himself. He had no right to expect that sort of commitment.
“I’ll write to you every day. I promise.”
“No, sugar. No promises. I can’t ask you to keep them. I can’t even ask you to wait for me. It wouldn’t be fair.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his finger to her lips. “Bertha, let’s not think about what comes later. If your Papa will let me come see you tonight, I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
“Oh, Thad. That sounds so nice. I’m sure Papa will let you stay late if I tell him you’re leaving tomorrow. And Mama will want you to come in time for supper.”
He grinned. “You sure know how to sweeten the pot.”
She laughed, and the lighthearted sound of it lifted the anchor from his heart.
“I wish I’d known sooner I could lure you with food. How about if I ply you with cobbler for dessert?”
“I’d say it sounds like I’d better rush home and pack. I won’t have time later.” He pulled her to him for a chaste hug, as chaste as he could manage, at least. “Bertha, I want us to be together every minute until I leave.”
She leaned back and focused on his eyes. “We will be. If I have to move heaven and earth to be with you tonight, I’ll make sure it happens.”
No two ways about it, Miss Annie had the gift. Wonder of wonders, she convinced Doc Turner to put Jennie in a room upstairs at Brooks House while she mended. Thomas, who witnessed the whole thing, said Miss Annie insisted he would be doing her a great kindness, considering she wouldn’t need to walk clear back to the servants’ quarters to tend Jennie’s ankle. Thomas claimed that Doc Turner, who didn’t stand a chance against Miss Annie’s beguiling ways, just lifted his hat and nodded while grinning like a love-struck boy.
When the shock from the
unlikely arrangement wore off, Sarah had Henry and Thomas brace the jabbering Jennie between them and help her to the foot of the stairs. Then Henry took over, winding her arm about his neck while she hopped on one leg up the steps. A wide-eyed Thomas followed, holding his fidgety arms out front as if ready to catch Jennie’s tumbling body. Sarah figured he might as well save himself the trouble. If Jennie fell, she’d take them all to the bottom with her.
Sarah brought up the rear, one hand laden with a bowl of Cook’s hot broth, the other with fresh linens. At the top landing, Jennie nodded to the right, too busy talking to stop and give directions. Henry guided his cumbrous burden around the polished banister post then along the hall to the first door. Thomas bobbed in front to turn a key that dangled from the lock.
Henry glanced back at Sarah and shook his head. By the look on his face, she knew what he had on his mind. He often pondered white folks’ uncommon fixation with bars and bolts, considering his people had fought so hard to be free of them, so a key stored on the outside of a locked door would be just the thing to vex his mind. But Sarah knew the reason. Jennie once mentioned it let the maids know which rooms were empty and needed cleaning.
Thomas swung the door open onto the prettiest room Sarah had ever seen, even counting Miss Blow’s house back home. The walls, so high you could stack two and a half men against them head to toe, were covered in wallpaper the color of a sunset, like pink stirred up with orange peels. Rows of tiny flowers, the shade of eggshells, dotted the pink. Tall mahogany posts of equal height jutted to the ceiling from the four corners of the high bed. The same molasses-colored wood as on the posts, rubbed with carnauba wax to a high shine, made up every stick of furniture in the room.
Jennie pointed at a spindly-legged bench that looked too fragile to hold her. “Jus’ drop me on the settee, Henry, while Sarah makes the bed. Thomas, pull up the stool yonder for my poor old foot. Sarah, you can put my broth on the side table to cool, but lay a napkin over it so no dust settles on top. And by the by, hold the pillow out the window and beat it good a’fore you covers it. Nothing I hates worse’n a dusty pillow.” She chuckled. “Less’n it be dusty soup.” She frowned at Thomas, who had done her bidding but now edged toward the door. “Come back over here and pull in this stool so I can reach it better. My leg ain’t made of rubber.”
Sarah stifled a grin but couldn’t help raising one eyebrow at Henry, who seemed to have a harder time hiding his amusement. He busied himself by taking hold of the other corners of the sheet Sarah held, raising his side high overhead and flapping so hard she nearly lost her grip. As the sheet settled to the bed between them, he gave her a playful wink. She turned away and bit her lip to hold in the laughter.
Henry rescued her by drawing Jennie’s attention over to him. “Mighty nice of Doc Turner to open up this room for you, Miss Jennie.”
Jennie sat on the edge of the settee turning her ankle back and forth, studying it from every angle with puckered lips. At Henry’s words, her fretful look turned to joy, and she beamed up at him. “You got that right, Henry.”
She gazed around the room as if she’d never seen it before. “All the times I swept and dusted in here, I never once imagined I’d be sleeping in that bed.” She turned a squinty eye on Henry. “But it weren’t really Doc’s idea, you know. He didn’t have the starch to stand up to Miss Bessie, that’s all.”
They all nodded and mumbled their agreement.
Jennie drew her shoulders back and raised her chin. “Not to say Doc don’t hold me in the highest regard.” She lowered her voice and peered at the three of them in turn. “But we all know things don’t happen this way ’round these parts. If Doc hadn’t been plum bothered and befuddled by Miss Bessie, none of us would be sitting here in this nice room.”
Sarah cast a quick look at Henry. Sure enough, Jennie’s talk about the way things were around Jefferson had him squirming.
He grabbed a feather pillow and blustered over to throw open a window. Leaning on the bustle bench under the sash, he pounded the pillow until soft tufts of down formed a cloud around him and drifted like snow to the street. “Hard to believe it’s jus’ past noon,” he called over his shoulder. “This storm got it dark as gloom out here. Cold, too.”
Jennie pulled the afghan from the back of the small sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Hurry up and close off that draft, Henry. All I need is the croup to go along with this ankle.”
Henry shut the window and tossed the pillow to Sarah. “There now, Miss Jennie. Your bedding’s dusted, and all danger of the croup is past.”
Sarah slid on the crocheted pillow slip and patted out the lumps then turned to give the room a careful look. “I guess that about does it, Jennie. Unless you can think of anything else you might need.”
Jennie took a look around and smiled up at Sarah. “Seem like you done thought of everything.”
Sarah placed an extra blanket at the foot of the bed. “You sure I can’t stay and sit with you tonight?”
Jennie waved her hand. “My sister’s girl gon’ be here directly. Should’ve been here by now, in fact. Don’t worry–I got Thomas to care for me till she come.” She peered past Henry to where the startled man still lurked by the door. “Ain’t that right, Thomas?”
He spewed and sputtered, backing toward the door and shaking his head.
Jennie shook her finger and fixed him with a warning look. “Hush, now. Bring yourself over here and sit down. You ain’t gon’ no place till my niece show up.”
Sarah picked up the broth and handed it to Thomas, who reacted as if she’d handed him a skunk. “This is cool enough to sip now. See she drinks it down.”
Laughing, Jennie took it from the stricken man. “It’s my ankle what’s ailing, Sarah. Not my hands. You two git on home to your chores. You’ve wasted enough of this day foolin’ ’round with me. Not to say I ain’t grateful.”
Sarah leaned down to hug her. “I’m just glad you’re all right, that’s all.” Powerful glad.
Behind her, Henry cleared his throat. Sarah guessed he must be thinking along the same lines, remembering what they feared had happened to Jennie. She decided if he laughed, she’d skin him.
Outside, Sarah drew in fresh air laden with sweet relief. It felt good to be headed home instead of to the jailhouse. She sat tall and proper in town, but when the wagon rolled past the Polk Street Bridge, giddy laughter bubbled to the surface. Henry stole a look behind them then pulled back on the reins, climbed down, and ran around to her side. She stood up, fit to bust, and soared into his arms. He swung her around in circles, both laughing so hard their tears mingled each time he kissed her.
“I never been so relieved of a thing in my life!” Henry yelled.
“I thought sure I’d be watching you hang.”
Still clinging to his neck, she jerked her gaze to his face. “But you said–”
“Never mind what I said. I’d done give you up to the noose. Figured nothing on earth could save you. ’Specially if you’d done killed Doc Turner, too.”
If not for his rascally grin, she’d have throttled him. “I’ve never been so scared in all my born days.”
His arms around her waist tightened, and his grin disappeared. “Neither have I, Sarah. I always figured I could protect you from any harm that came your way. I learned today they’s some things only the Lord can shield you from. Don’t think I didn’t call on Him.”
Sarah leaned her head against Henry’s broad chest and let him hold her. She couldn’t tell which of them trembled the worst, but she felt his heart pounding against her cheek.
Henry kissed the top of her head. “I’m jus’ grateful the Almighty took care of you.”
She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his chin. “Me, too.”
He pulled back, a glint in his teasing eyes. “You reckon it’s the first time the good Lord used cow manure to save one of His own?”
Sarah laughed again, and he pulled her close for a tender kiss, but they sprang apart at the sound of a
pproaching hooves. Henry tightened his arm around her waist at the sight of three men on horseback headed their way. One of them, a pale-skinned man with long, stringy hair the color of jerked beef, rode out in front. Henry took her arm and gave her a gentle shove toward the rig. “Get aboard, Sarah. Those men are strangers.”
The edge in his voice set her feet in motion. Without waiting for him to lift her, she grabbed the side rail and clambered onto the seat. In his haste, Henry made it around Dandy and into his place before she ever sat down.
“How do you know they’re strangers?”
The men were close enough now to hear, so Henry whispered his answer. “The horses they’re riding came from Rink Livery.” As he spoke, a winsome smile slid over his face, and he raised his hat in greeting. “How ya’ll doing?”
The men had started reining in their mounts before Henry said a word. Sarah sensed it didn’t bode well. Her legs tensed under her, ready for flight.
Up close, the first man wasn’t much taller than the others. He only seemed so from a distance because he held himself high in the saddle and wore a proud smirk on his face. He turned cold eyes on Henry and called back to his men in a sassy tone, “What we got here, boys? This uppity whelp thinks he can address us without permission, like he thinks we’re one of his kind.” He turned to a portly man with thinning hair. “Do I have anything black smeared on my face, Edward?”
Edward laughed. Sarah figured he spent a lot of time laughing just to please the haughty man. She seethed inside, but Henry’s leg pressed hard against hers sent a clear warning to behave.
As for Henry, he kept right on grinning. “You folks lost? ’Cause if you was lost, you ain’t no mo’.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Not a mile back sits Jefferson, right there where you left it.”
The scrawny man on the right, actually more of a boy so thin Sarah thought he could use a pot of beans, attempted a smile that became more of a grimace. She reckoned he needed more practice.
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