Adria put her bread down and clenched her fists. “We can fight those laws. Overthrow them.”
“I admire your passion, Adria. Really, I do.” Ruth ran her finger around the rim of her cup. “But what do you think would happen if we did go stand on the courthouse steps and demand the laws change? Two women with no brother, father, husband to support us in our fight. First, we couldn’t be assured of support if we did have those men in our lives. Secondly, we would be roundly condemned for speaking out in public.” Ruth looked over at Adria. “You do remember telling me about the strong resistance the women in the East encounter when they dare speak openly, don’t you?”
“You’re right, of course.” Adria sighed. “My friend Abigail says any woman courageous enough to step beyond the privacy of her parlor to speak out is roundly condemned. Not so much for what they say about abolition but simply for daring to speak in public. Even men in the abolitionist movement are ready to shout them down.” She picked up her bread and took a bite. She chewed slowly and stared at the wall, seeing nothing. After she swallowed, she said, “I sometimes wonder if I could be as brave as those women.”
Ruth reached across the table to place her hand on top of Adria’s. “You are brave. You were the bravest little girl I ever met and you haven’t lost a bit of that courage.”
Adria looked at Ruth. “I want to believe that, but sometimes I wonder.”
“You’re at a wondering stage in your life. Wondering about decisions for your future.”
“I just don’t know what I should do, Aunt Ruth. I don’t mean about Louis. I’m absolutely certain I must do anything I can to help him be free. Whatever the cost.” She dropped her gaze back to the bread on her plate. “It’s what I should decide for myself that I don’t know.”
“Follow your heart.”
“That sounds good, but what if your heart is confused?” Adria slowly raised her eyes back to Ruth’s face. “Did you feel confused when you thought about marrying Peter?”
“Not at all. I felt as though I’d been waiting for him all my life. I was a little younger than you when he came to Springfield, and I knew at once I wanted my future tied to him.”
“That sounds so romantic.”
“I suppose it does.” Ruth squeezed Adria’s hand before she turned loose to pick up her teacup again. She took a sip. “I was very happy when he seemed to enjoy settling his eyes on me too.”
Adria raised her eyebrows a little at Ruth. “I think there’s a certain preacher who likes settling his eyes on you now.”
Color flashed in Ruth’s cheeks. She was so fair she could never hide a blush. But she didn’t try to deny it. “You might be right.” She stood up and began gathering up the breakfast dishes. “Whether anything comes of that remains to be seen.”
“But you’re not worried about it?”
“Worried? I’m not sure that’s the best word for what you mean. There’s no reason for me to be worried. Apprehensive? That might be more descriptive.”
“Don’t try to avoid an answer with a word study.” Adria shook her head a little. “Worried. Apprehensive. Concerned. Whatever word is best. Are you?”
“It never hurts to exercise our minds to come up with proper words, but I’m not sure I’m any of those. I’ve made my way as a widow for many years. If the Lord intends that to continue, then I am content with my lot. But it’s different for you, Adria. You’re young. You need to embrace the opportunities of life.”
“You think I should marry Carlton.” Adria didn’t make it a question.
“He would give you a good life.” Ruth turned from setting the cups and saucers in the dishpan. “Is the attraction not there for you?”
“I thought it was, but now I’m not sure.” Adria pushed away from the table. She needed to go to work.
“Logan Farrell has turned your head.”
“He does make me wonder.” Adria brushed crumbs off her skirt. “I don’t think I should wonder, do you? Not if I love Carlton enough to marry him.”
Ruth didn’t answer Adria’s question. Instead she said, “You don’t know anything about Logan.”
“That’s just it. I don’t, but I think I might like to.”
Ruth shook her head. “You have to make your own decisions.” She turned to pour water from the teakettle into the dishpan. “You best be on your way or you’ll be late. Oh, and it could be you should find Louis and tell him what we’re planning before we start asking around town for funds to buy his freedom. Pastor Robertson plans to mention it in church on Sunday.”
“What if we don’t get enough?” Adria felt the worry of that deep in her heart.
Ruth’s mouth tightened. “We will not even consider that. We’re praying. You and I and Will. The Lord will hear our fervent prayers.”
Will. Adria sneaked a look over at Ruth, who didn’t seem to realize she had spoken the preacher’s first name. That must mean the name had come easily to her lips. Teasing words sprang up in Adria’s mind, but she held them back. If the preacher was courting Ruth and she hadn’t slammed the door in his face, Adria didn’t want to do anything to spoil that. Ruth would make an excellent pastor’s wife should the two of them decide to join hands on that path.
Adria positioned her hat on her head. The straw hat was plain except for a deep blue ribbon that made her think of Logan Farrell’s eyes. He did have remarkable eyes, and the most remarkable thing about them was that simply thinking about those eyes made her heart speed up a little. Did she feel the same when she thought of Carlton’s hazel eyes that could change color according to his mood? And that mood hadn’t been so good lately.
Perhaps that was what was wrong with their relationship. Carlton seemed to always be two, sometimes only one, word away from anger. Weeks had passed since they had done anything fun together. No picnics. No sitting in the swing on his porch holding hands while watching the lightning bugs blink on and off. No walks with the moon and stars for lights after she and Ruth finished baking. That was more her fault than his. She kept putting him off, afraid he would insist on an answer to his proposal. An answer she did not have.
Ruth had said she felt no confusion at all about pledging her love and life to Peter. If Adria loved Carlton enough to marry him, shouldn’t she be as sure? She shouldn’t be thinking yes, then no, as though she were plucking the petals off a daisy. Perhaps she needed to break it off completely. Let Carlton know she loved him as a very dear friend, but that wasn’t enough for her to consider marriage. She needed more, even if she couldn’t exactly put her finger on what that more was. But if she did that, what about their campaign to raise money for Louis? Then again, it surely wasn’t right to string a man along simply to accomplish a purpose, even if that purpose was a good one.
She didn’t have time to figure all that out right now. After a glance at the clock on the mantel, she called a goodbye to Ruth and headed out the front door. Wednesdays were slow mornings, so Mr. Billiter wouldn’t be upset if she happened to be a few minutes late. Ruth was right. Louis had to know they were working for him. She didn’t want him to despair. Not that he would. Or at least reveal that to her.
Louis still treated her like she wasn’t much older than the little girl he’d found next to her dead mother. Careful for her feelings. Wanting to make things easier for her. That included sparing her sadness if he could. Maybe he was the one she needed to ask advice about Carlton. But no, she knew what he’d say. He’d tell her it was the Lord she needed to be asking for guidance.
Aunt Tilda was the one she wished she could ask. That thought made her smile. She knew what she’d say too. Child, you were born free. I ain’t denying you done seen your share of trouble, but you still free to live the life you want to live. Long as you is brave enough.
“Or wise enough to know what life I want,” she muttered under her breath.
She looked around hoping nobody noticed her talking to herself. Lately she was never sure when Logan might pop out of a doorway or around a corner. He had to be watch
ing for her, but last time he appeared beside her on the street, he said he had a job with Walter Byrd’s wagon-making establishment on the east end of town.
“Not what I intend to do forever,” he’d said. “But it will do for the time being to put some coin in my pockets.”
“What do you want to do forever?” Adria had asked.
“I don’t know about forever. Best not tie up a fellow’s life that long, but I intend to go west. Clear to California. They say that’s where a man can find a new start.”
“Do you need a new start?”
“Every man does.” Logan flashed such a smile at her that her knees went a little weak. “That is, if I don’t meet a woman so beautiful she takes the wandering right out of my feet.”
“Maybe you’ll find a woman who wants to wander just as much as you do.”
“Then all the better.” He gave her a considering look. “You wouldn’t happen to know a woman like that, would you?”
Adria was saved from coming up with an answer by a man shouting out to Logan from a line of wagons going through town. With relief, she had smiled a goodbye to Logan and ducked into Billiter’s Mercantile.
Ruth would have been aghast if she’d overhead that conversation. Adria herself was a little amazed at her brazenness. Logan had a way of making her throw caution to the wind. Not that she was ready to chase after him on an unknown adventure. But what would it be like to see California?
Adria gave herself a mental shake. She must be out of her mind to even consider the idea of going west.
At the hotel, she didn’t go to the kitchen door. She couldn’t face Bet with no way to help her find freedom. Besides, she had to remember Ruth’s advice about not firing up the town about abolition right now. People would shout her down. Was she courageous enough for that? Perhaps. But she wasn’t willing to risk Louis’s freedom or have the town turn against Ruth, who would be condemned along with Adria by association.
Nor did she search out Louis in the buggy house or wherever he might be working. Instead she went in the front entrance. As Ruth continually cautioned her, she needed to do things the proper way. The son she’d met in the kitchen after George Sanderson died was at the front desk.
He looked up from the account book he was examining. “Miss Starr, have you brought us more cakes?” He smiled. “Those you brought last week were delicious. I intended to send a note around to thank you, but it’s been hectic trying to get Father’s affairs in order.” His smile faded as he glanced down at the books and papers scattered across the desk. “Father had his own unique bookkeeping system.”
“No thanks were necessary, and unfortunately I didn’t bring a cake today. We’d be glad to bake something for you if you have a request, however.”
“I’ll check with Bet about what we might need.” He gave her a curious look. “But if you don’t have cakes to deliver and I assume you have no need of a room, what can I do for you?”
She made up something on the spot. “My aunt is in hopes she can hire Louis to fix one of our windows that’s difficult to open.” They did have to lift the kitchen window just so in order to open it. She smiled at the man. “Your father was always kind enough to allow Louis to help her with such repairs since she’s a widow. She lost her husband in the cholera epidemic, you know. Of course, she always paid your father for whatever work Louis did.”
Those words about paying someone else for work Louis did nearly choked Adria, but she got them out and even managed to keep a smile on her face.
He frowned a little and let his gaze slip to the books in front of him. It was obvious he was ready for the conversation to be over. “I’m sure that can be arranged. I think Louis is helping the blacksmith over on Walnut today. I can send somebody to tell Louis to go by your house later today to fix your window.”
“That’s kind of you, Mr. Sanderson. But I’m on my way to Billiter’s Mercantile where I work. I pass right by that blacksmith shop. With your permission, I can ask Louis if he’ll have time to look at it.”
“Fine.” The man almost smiled as he waved Adria on her way. “Tell him he’s free to help you.”
If only he were really free. She turned toward the door and then looked back at the son. He’d already shut out everything but the numbers in front of him again.
She considered telling him their plan to purchase Louis for what he’d done for the town. That might make the man lower the price, but then the way he was studying those account books, he appeared to want every penny possible from his father’s estate. She’d ask Pastor Robertson to talk to him. Maybe the preacher could appeal to the man’s Christian generosity, if he had any, and it was wrong of her to assume he didn’t.
She liked Elias Brown’s blacksmith shop. He was a gentle giant of a man, something like Louis, with broad shoulders and strong hands for swinging his hammer to shape the hot metal. Years ago he had twisted a piece of metal in the shape of a star that still hung on her bedroom wall. He had never minded her stopping by to see if Louis was working with him. Even if Louis wasn’t, Mr. Brown always greeted her with a smile as big as he was.
Ruth had insisted she stop going to his shop once she reached the age of twelve. That was when a girl had to start acting like a lady, and ladies had no business hanging around a blacksmith shop. So many things were forbidden a lady. To please Ruth, Adria reluctantly accepted the rules of society and practiced ladylike behavior.
But when she reached eighteen, Adria gave up on ladylike occupations and found a job at Billiter’s Mercantile. Definitely not something a lady should do. As Carlton continually informed her. Marriage is what he recommended to change her wayward behavior. What everyone recommended. Probably even Mr. Brown, should she ask him.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Starr,” Mr. Brown said now when she stepped into the shop. “It’s been a while since you came by to see the metal glow. Like a star, you used to say.”
He laughed and she laughed with him. She was glad to see he and Louis were the only ones in the shop. “And you used to say, glow like me.”
“Since you were a Starr. What can I do for you this day?”
“I came by to see if Louis might stop by our house later to fix a window. I asked Mr. Sanderson at the hotel and he gave his permission.” Adria looked past Mr. Brown to where Louis shaped a white-hot piece of metal with glancing blows of the hammer.
“Let me ask him. Can you help the ladies out, Louis?” Mr. Brown called over to Louis.
“Later, sir, after we finish this gate you is making.” Louis smiled over at Adria and then quickly back to the job he was doing. A man couldn’t let the metal cool unless he wanted to start over with whatever shape he was making.
Mr. Brown looked back at Adria. “I don’t know what I’d do without Louis to help.” He held up fingers that were twisted with arthritis and then rubbed his shoulder. “Not with how the rheumatism got into my shoulders. May have to close the forge down after they sell Louis.” His smile was completely gone. “Can’t see how those Sanderson boys can do that, but I ain’t got no say in it all.”
Louis kept hammering the metal as though he couldn’t hear what the blacksmith was saying. Adria glanced over at Louis and back at Mr. Brown. “Aunt Ruth and I, with the help of Pastor Robertson, have a plan to change things for Louis. Almost everybody in Springfield owes Louis for what he did during the cholera epidemic. I do, for certain, and Aunt Ruth too.”
The blacksmith frowned. “What you got cooked up?”
There was no reason to keep it a secret now that the sale posters had gone up. She looked straight at Mr. Brown. “We’re going to raise money to buy Louis and give him his freedom.”
The hammer stopped pinging on the metal, but Adria kept her eyes on Mr. Brown, who gave a low whistle. “That’s going to take a pile of bills. A fellow like Louis won’t sell cheap.”
“No, but I believe enough people in Springfield will know it needs doing.” Adria kept her shoulders squared and didn’t break eye contact with Mr. Brown.
>
“Have you collected any money yet?”
“Not yet. You’re the first person I’ve talked to.” She still didn’t look at Louis, even though she knew he was watching them.
“I see.” The man reached under his blacksmith apron and pulled out a couple of bills. “Then let me be the first to give toward the freedom of this man.”
Adria took the money and at last looked over at Louis. He had turned from the anvil, the hammer in one hand and the tongs holding the metal turning from white hot to a dull glowing red in the other.
He stared at the blacksmith. “I’m mighty beholdin’ to you for that, sir.” And then he looked at Adria and a tear slid down his cheek through the gleam of sweat before he turned and thrust the metal back in the coals of the forge to reheat it.
Twenty-three
The money started coming in. Practically without any effort on their part. Ruth hid her amazement each time Adria reported a new donation. After all, she had claimed to be praying believing and she had hoped fervently their plan to raise money for Louis’s freedom would be successful. At the same time, she had been wondering how to help Adria through the disappointment when it wasn’t. Perhaps in spite of her talk of believing in prayer, she didn’t. Not the way she should. Maybe she should ask Will to recommend Scriptures to bolster her faith.
Sunday, Will chose the Bible passage about the Good Samaritan for his sermon and then claimed the Good Samaritan title for what Louis did during the cholera epidemic. The fifty-five graves he had dug. The fifty-seven cholera victims he had buried. How he’d helped others too sick to care for themselves. He had stayed in the town guarding property and life when everyone else able to do so deserted the town to escape the sickness.
Ruth had been one of those who fled the town as Peter begged her to do before he died. But the guilt of not staying with Peter’s body to see he had a proper burial still scratched at her heart. It didn’t bear considering the macabre scene that might have greeted returning townspeople, if not for Louis burying the dead.
River to Redemption Page 18