"You'll have to lower your dress. There isn't a man alive who could stop touching you, posed as you are."
She was seated crossways across his lap, her head resting on his shoulder, her skirts in scandalous disarray about her dark thighs.
"Lower your gown, petite, otherwise we'll have to begin again."
She leaned up and kissed him warmly, "Is that a promise?"
Galen raised an eyebrow, then drew away. "I may change your name to 'Insatiable' if you're not careful."
She smiled the smile of a thoroughly loved woman and said, "That wouldn't be a bad thing. I could be the Insatiable Indigo—Mistress and Wife of the Dragon Vachon."
Galen felt his manhood harden sharply beneath her soft hips. "Up, shameless woman. Lower your gown and fix your clothing before you really rouse the dragon."
Hester gave him a mock pout of disappointment but slid from his lap.
"Shameless," Galen echoed.
Grinning Hester adjusted her gown. When they were both ready, she let him help her down from the coach. Her steps faltered upon seeing the door of the house ajar.
"Galen, I don't remember leaving the door open."
Galen ran his eyes over the door, the house, the grounds. He then glanced up at the coachman and nodded.
"Hester, stay here. James and I will enter first. I'll call to you if it's safe."
"Galen—"
"We'll only be a moment."
Hester stood by the coach.
However, they were gone for so long she disobeyed Galen's instructions and went inside. The destruction which greeted her made her gasp and put her hands to her mouth. Every piece of furniture—tables, sideboards, highboys, had been broken and turned over. There were shards of shattered crockery and china littering the floor. Her dry goods from the kitchen had been scattered everywhere. Lamps lay smashed, their oil seeping into the floor like life's blood. Curtains were shredded and partially ripped from their rods. The vandals had taken a sledgehammer to the walls that had first been smeared with syrup and lamp oil, and they were honeycombed with gaping holes and cracks. The damage was so extensive she couldn't breathe.
Galen's sad voice caught her attention. "I thought I asked you to wait."
He stood on stairs, where the railing had been splintered and torn apart.
"Who did this?"
She ran to the steps intending to see how the upper levels had fared but he stopped her with a gentle hold. "You don't want to see."
Hester stared, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"The dogs were let loose up there. They've fouled everything—your bedding, your clothing."
"Dogs?!"
"It was Shoe."
Hester couldn't believe any of this was happening.
Galen debated whether to show her the note, then decided he would. She was his wife, she trusted him to be honest.
Hester's hands were shaking as she took the small piece of paper.
Since you're going to be returning south, me and the boys decided to throw you a going-away party. Too bad you missed it. See you soon.
Chilled, Hester looked up at her husband.
"Don't worry, the only person going south is Shoe. South straight to hell."
Hester's next thought froze her with fear. "Oh, lord, Galen. My papers!"
Hester ran past him and up the steps.
The stench in her room arrested her steps a moment but she went on inside. There were tears in her eyes as she took in the fouled room and the hateful words smeared over the walls in excrement. The big wardrobe which sat in front of the wall near her bed had been turned over and smashed. Its back had been splintered. Hester knew without even looking inside that the papers were gone. They'd been in the false back of the wardrobe since her arrival north. She walked over to the wardrobe, and discovered that, indeed, they had been stolen.
Galen asked "Who else would have known the papers were hid there?"
She sat on the floor overwhelmed by all she'd seen. "The officers of the Vigilance Committee: Reverend Adams, Bea, Lovejoy, Branton Hubble, of course, but no one else."
"Are you certain?"
She replied in a distant voice. "Fairly certain, yes."
Hester looked around the room she'd loved so much and felt her stomach roll in reaction. She'd die before she'd let Shoe take her south again.
Galen's heart twisted with pain seeing the devastation on her face. "You once told me your aunt filed a set of your papers with the local sheriff when you arrived north."
Hester nodded tightly. "There should be a duplicate in Sheriff Lawson's office."
"I'll send Andre over to check on that as soon as he and Raymond and Maxi return."
Galen wanted to hold her in his arms and reassure her that all would be well, but until Shoe could be found and stopped she was in danger. "We should go home, petite. There's nothing we can do here at this point. We can return later in the day or tomorrow and begin cleaning if you'd like."
She nodded and let him lead her out.
Hester watched the house through the coach's small portal as they pulled away. She wondered if it would ever be restored so her ancestors could resume their nightly walks. The house had stood as a monument to their freedom and pride for over a half century. Now it lay in shambles, destroyed by hate.
For the rest of the day, Hester was numb. Gail, who'd stayed at the Folly while they were away, blamed herself when she heard the news, saying she should have gone by and checked on the house while Hester and Galen were in Detroit. Hester reassured her that she was not to blame, but Gail's sadness showed plainly in her face.
Maxi and the rest of the household arrived at the Folly a few hours later. Everyone was appalled by the news of the destruction. Galen sent Andre straight into town to check on Hester's papers. Raymond LeVeq wanted to hunt Shoe down immediately. Galen was of a like mind, but wanted to wait for Andre's return before formulating a plan.
Andre returned and confirmed that Hester's papers were still on file with Lawson. The sheriff vowed to bring Shoe in for the vandalism.
Galen did not relax. By law, the special commissioners who tried runaway cases were given ten dollars if they ruled the fugitive had to be returned but only five if the claim by slave owners proved false. In the years following the law's implementation, more than two hundred alleged fugitives had been brought to court, but less than two dozen were ruled not to be property. Should Shoe successfully have Hester arrested, her chances of returning to life as his wife were not good. Frederick Douglass had once said, "The only way to make the Fugitive Slave Law a dead law is to make a half dozen or more dead kidnappers," and Galen wholeheartedly agreed.
The next morning, Hester, Gail, Galen, and some of the house staff went over to the Wyatt house to begin the cleanup. Maxi swore in Portuguese upon seeing the destruction. Hester simply closed her heart and mind to the hurt and went to work.
Throughout the day many neighbors stopped by to lend a hand after hearing the terrible news. By mid-afternoon, there was a small army at work, hauling out debris, burning fouled bedding and garments, and sweeping up the glass and dry goods. Bea didn't come over until late in the day, and when she stepped into the house and saw the holes in the walls and the splintered handrail of the stairs, she broke into sobs and hurried back outdoors. Hester set aside her broom and went out to console her.
Bea, standing on the porch, turned to Hester with red-rimmed eyes, then turned away, her face distant. "This is all my fault."
Hester hugged her tightly. "It's no one's fault but Shoe's, Bea. Gail said much the same thing. She blames herself for not going over to check the place while I was away, but it isn't her fault either."
Bea slowly disentangled herself from Hester's embrace, and said softly, "Yes, Hester it is my fault."
Something in Bea's eyes and voice sent a chill up Hester's spine. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying this is my fault. Had it not been for me—" Her voice trailed off. "Go inside and get your man, and I'
ll try and explain."
Hester returned with Galen and Raymond.
Bea nodded tightly at the two men, then turned away. "I'm a stupid old woman, Hester. The traitor we've been looking for is me. I'm the traitor."
Hester stared in shock. Galen and Raymond looked grim.
Bea spoke in a low monotone. "When I left Tennessee thirty years ago, I left three children behind, two boys and a girl. I wrote the master after I began my life here. I wanted to see if he would let me buy their freedom. He wrote me back and said not only would he not allow me to buy their freedom, he planned to sell them deep south to punish me for running."
Bea's eyes were filled with pain and loss. "I wrote him back, begging him not to, but he didn't respond. I never heard from any of my children again, until Lem showed up. He's my oldest boy, he was six when I ran. Smart as a whip he was. I was so happy to see him Hester. So glad I didn't realize he was a snake until it was too late." Bea wiped at the tears in her eyes. "He kept telling me he didn't know what had happened to my other two children, said they'd been sold separately after I ran, but he was lying."
"How do you know?"
"He told me so himself, the day Ezra Shoe came to visit."
Galen asked, "When did this happen?"
"About two weeks before you first came to us as the Black Daniel."
Galen stared, surprised that she had known of his alter ego all along.
"Yes. I know who you are. I've doctored a lot of folks in my time, seen them beat up, seen them healed, and I never forget a face."
"So where are your other children?" Raymond asked.
"Dead. Both dead."
There was a silence before Bea's emotionless voice continued. "My daughter died in childbirth, my other son of snakebite in Texas."
"Why did Shoe visit you?"
"He and my Lem are half brothers."
Hester heart stopped. "Brothers."
"Yes, they have the same father, my master. Shoe's mother was the wife of the overseer and the master used her too."
"Good lord," Hester whispered.
"Shoe and Lem are mercenary slave catchers. They've ridden with some of the most brazen kidnappers in the country: the Gag Gang, Patty Cannon's Gang."
Patty Cannon was well known to those working the Road. Whereas people like Hester and Galen helped fugitives out of the South, Lucretia (Patty) Cannon worked to send fugitives back to slavery. She and her gang of East Coast kidnappers employed both Black and White conductors, used secret houses as stations, and sent messages by code. The abduction of twenty children from the Philadelphia area was said to have been the work of her gang. She was both feared and hated.
Hester shook her head sadly. "Why would your son work for kidnappers?"
"Because it is what he does. He said it is an easy way for him to earn a wage."
"Duping your own people?"
"Yes, duping his own people. He isn't the first to have no loyalty to the race."
Hester knew Bea was correct. The Black press and antislavery journals made it a point to inform their readers of Blacks who preyed upon the race by publishing the traitor's descriptions and last known whereabouts. Such vigilance kept the number of betrayers low, as did the physical violence often times meted out by members of the community upon such individuals. In Cincinnati last year, a man named Robert Russell was tarred and feathered after it became known he'd been paid ten dollars for his assistance in helping kidnappers seize a fugitive. In another Cincinnati incident, a Black man named John Brodie was beaten so badly by members of the community for his aiding role in a kidnapping, he delivered himself to the county jail in fear for his life.
So, while it was always shocking to learn of a Black man aiding someone like Shoe, it was not uncommon.
But for such a man to be Bea's son was heartbreaking.
And Bea appeared as if her heart had broken. "He and Shoe were hiding in the house the night the Wesleyites saved the Daniel from that other group of kidnappers. After the Wesleyites delivered the Daniel to Mr. Wood they rode on to Detroit but stopped by my place for food. They did it often, but I knew Shoe and Lem were in the house so I hustled the old man and his sons out as quickly as possible, but not before Wesley told the tale of saving the Black Daniel."
"So that's why he began searching everyone's homes."
"Yes and later that night, you sent for me, Hester."
"Did they know where you were going?"
"No. They knew how much the bounty was on the Black Daniel's head so as soon as the Wesleyites left, they hightailed out to the road hoping to find the Daniel."
"Did they know Galen was here in Whittaker?"
"No, Wesley said he thought the Daniel would be taken to a safe place somewhere in the county, but he didn't know exactly where. His only concern was that the Daniel was safe."
Galen interrupted, "But what about the slave catchers who tried to kill me? How did they know I was on my way to Detroit?"
"Once again, it was my doing. And Branton's, rest his soul."
Hester's confusion claimed her face. "Branton?"
"Yes. Did you know Branton was a member of the Order?"
Hester's eyes widened. "No." She'd no idea he was a member of the Secret Society of Conductors in Detroit.
"Well he was, and as a member, he knew about the Daniel's coming. He told me about the visit at my kitchen table one morning. Unfortunately, Lem was there also. At the time I was still under the impression that he was the runaway he'd claimed to be. Branton and I saw no harm in talking about the Daniel with him in the room, but I know now that our carelessness nearly cost your life, Galen."
"And Lem gave the information to Shoe?"
"Yes, Shoe was down in Monroe with Porter Greer. It was Greer who alerted the other kidnappers, but because Branton hadn't known the exact date of the Daniel's arrival, they'd been patrolling the Ohio border every night for two weeks. The ones who eventually found him were simply lucky that night."
Hester didn't know what to say to the tragic tale.
"So," Raymond asked. "Where is your son now?"
"More than likely down in Monroe, waiting for me to throw them another sacrificial lamb."
Bea saw the questions in Hester's eyes. "I gave them the Blackburns, the Creightons, and everyone else."
"Why?"
"Initially to learn the fate of my children. That was the original bargain."
"You traded the freedom of your neighbors for information on your children?" Raymond asked angrily.
Bea's voice was cold. "Yes, and until you have children of your own, do not be so quick to judge me. I may be a stupid old woman, but leaving my children behind choked my heart everyday for thirty years. I needed to know what had happened to them. Lem told me they were alive but wouldn't say where until I aided him."
Her voice softened. "So, I did."
"But you helped free Fanny Blackburn."
"Yes, I did. I told them afterwards you would've been suspicious if I hadn't. Shoe was furious that you deluded him. He wanted to know everything about you after that."
"He has my papers, Bea. Did you tell him about the wardrobe?"
"Heavens, no, Hester! Is that why the house was ravaged so, because they were looking for your free papers?"
"We aren't certain, but the papers are gone."
"Shoe pressed and pressed for information on you, but I refused to give it. They threatened to expose me to the community as a traitor, but by then I knew my children were both dead and I didn't care what they did to me. I loved your aunt like a sister. I'd have killed myself before sacrificing you."
Hester pulled Bea into her arms and both women cried.
"I'm so, so sorry," Bea whispered. "So sorry."
Back at the Folly, later that evening, Raymond, Galen, and Andre were huddled in Galen's study, discussing Bea's story and Shoe's part in it.
Raymond asked, "So what do you propose we do, mon frere?"
"If necessary, find Shoe and shoot him down like the jackal
he is," Galen pronounced coldly. "I will not let this hang over my wife's head."
"I agree," Raymond said. "Shall I contact my brothers?"
"Yes. How long do you think it will take them to arrive?"
"Less than a week's time. They were going on to Toronto after they helped us bring back the Amherstburg child. It shouldn't be very hard to get word to them."
"Then go ahead. Their presence will even the odds."
Tired, Galen went up to bed a while later. He thought Hester would be asleep, but she was standing out on the veranda in her nightgown gazing out over the dark river below. At the sound of his footsteps she turned and gave him a small smile. "Are you men finished with your plans to save me from Shoe?"
"I will not let anything happen to you, petite, I promise."
"I know Galen, but sometimes promises made by people like you and me are nearly impossible to keep."
She went to him and he wrapped her into his arms. "What you say is true, but not in this case. Are you prepared to leave here should it become necessary for us to run?"
She hadn't thought about having to leave the country before, but she was prepared to join him wherever the future led. "Yes."
He kissed her brow. "Good, because the only way to stop Shoe may be to kill him."
Hester went still. She looked up into the eyes of the man she'd come to love as much as life, then placed her head against his chest. He held her tight. "I hope it won't come to that," she said quietly.
"I hope it won't either," he told her. "But it may."
Chapter 21
It took nearly a week to remove all the debris from the interior of the Wyatt home, and Hester was there each day, overseeing the task. Racine joined the cleaning team after returning to Whittaker about midweek, bringing with her the lovely Ginette, who took one look at all the physical labor involved and opted to help Maxi with the meals for the crew instead. Hester did not fault her, although Gail had a few choice things to say, until reminded that Ginette came from a world of privilege and servants, she knew absolutely nothing about cleaning. More than likely she would just have been in the way.
As the days of August gave over to the cooler days of September someone began waging a shadowy guerilla campaign against Greer and Shoe's forces down in Monroe. It began with Greer's stables and livery burning to the ground. When Hester questioned Galen about it, he shrugged. Raymond, on the other hand, simply smiled a knowing smile and winked when asked about the fire. A few days after the fire, all of the dogs belonging to Shoe and Greer were fed hushpuppies by an unknown source, and as a consequence would never again track another fugitive. A well-known Road conductor, Deacon Theron Trowbridge of the Congregational Church of Denmark, Iowa, invented the hushpuppies. The deacon would heavily spice corn dodgers with strychnine and then feed them to the bloodhounds of slave catchers who tracked fugitives to his station. He was known to say that the only good bloodhound was a dead one.
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