A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  Matthew patted him on the back. ‘‘You’ve got a sharp eye and good listening skills as well, my boy. Let’s go see what Mr. Maxwell has to say about where he’s been today.’’

  ‘‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll answer the door,’’ Eli-nor said. ‘‘No doubt it’s someone calling on one of my boarders, but none of them seems able to answer the door.’’

  Oliver nodded and smiled before relaxing his posture and watching Elinor leave the parlor. He enjoyed the gentle sway of her hips and imagined her brown tresses loosed from the tight knot and swinging softly around her shoulders. Perhaps one day she would remove the hairpins and grant him the pleasure of such a sight. Yes, Elinor had some fine characteristics, though he could barely tolerate her when she began her wearisome complaints about the mill girls or droned on about her sad lot in life.

  ‘‘We want to see him now!’’

  The sound of angry voices and clattering shoes drawing closer caused Oliver to stiffen and turn his attention to the hallway. A sundry group filled the doorway, and their anger was evident.

  ‘‘Gentlemen,’’ he greeted, standing and moving to shake hands with Matthew Cheever. ‘‘What can I do for you?’’

  Matthew didn’t extend his hand to accept Oliver’s greeting. Instead, he met the shoe peddler’s smile with a steely glare. ‘‘I didn’t notice a horse outside the house. Did you walk here from the Merrimack House, Mr. Maxwell?’’

  ‘‘As a matter of fact, I did. I’ve been making deliveries in Lowell all day, and when I don’t have far to travel, I prefer to walk. Encourage my customers to do the same—wears out the shoes more rapidly,’’ he said with a false bravado.

  Liam edged through the doorway. ‘‘And where might we be findin’ yar horse, Mr. Maxwell, ’cause it ain’t at the livery stable.’’

  ‘‘You must be mistaken. I left the animal there last night after making deliveries. What’s this about, anyway?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘We’ll tell you once we’ve located your horse,’’ Matthew replied.

  ‘‘I’ll be more than pleased to accompany you to the livery and prove there’s been a mistake.’’

  ‘‘Excellent suggestion. Why don’t you lead the way,’’ Matthew said, moving out of the doorway.

  Elinor hastened to Oliver’s side and directed a glare at Mr. Cheever. ‘‘You need to tell Mr. Maxwell why you’re detaining him.’’

  ‘‘We’re not detaining him, Mrs. Brighton. We’re asking for his cooperation. He’s freely agreed to assist us, so if you’ll step aside, we’ll be on our way.’’

  ‘‘I’ll visit with you tomorrow, Elinor,’’ Oliver said as he departed the house.

  The group traversed the streets of Lowell, garnering the attention of both storekeepers and shoppers until the men finally reached the livery, all of them squinting as they entered the dim stall-lined structure.

  ‘‘Right over here,’’ he said, leading them toward a stall near the end of the row. His eyes widened, and he hoped he appeared surprised when he encountered the empty stall. ‘‘I don’t know where she is. Maybe she’s been moved to another stall,’’ he said. ‘‘Did you happen to ask Mr. Kittredge when you were here earlier?’’

  ‘‘There was na anyone here—still isn’t. Are ya sayin’ you do na know where yar own horse is?’’ Liam asked.

  ‘‘I told you that I left the horse here last night and I’ve not been back since then. I have no idea where the animal might be— I fear it may have been stolen. I’ve a mother and sister to support, and I don’t know how I can afford to replace my horse. Needless to say, I want to locate the animal as much as you do,’’ Oliver said.

  ‘‘Are you now going to tell me what has happened?’’

  ‘‘I think he’s lyin’,’’ Rogan whispered to Liam while glowering at Oliver.

  Matthew nodded. ‘‘Obadiah’s wife, Naomi, has been taken, as well as young Spencer Houston. Whisked off on horseback earlier today.’’

  The blood drained from Oliver’s face, and his legs grew weak. ‘‘Did you say Spencer Houston?’’

  ‘‘Da boy was at my place when it happened. You measured him and my boy, Moses, for shoes a while back,’’ Obadiah reminded him.

  Oliver’s hands were shaking as he walked from the stable, the group of men following close behind. ‘‘I’ll talk to Mr. Kittredge and ask if anyone was around the livery today.’’

  ‘‘No need. We’ll talk to him ourselves,’’ Matthew said.

  Oliver leaned against the rough-hewn door, watching the group depart. Fortunately the screaming woman had alerted him he’d been seen leaving the cottage, and he’d had the foresight to hide the strawberry roan. Better still was the fact that no one had seen him leave the stables with the horse, as he’d left before first light.

  Surely they’d been mistaken about Spencer Houston. He was certain he’d taken Obadiah’s boy. The city marshal and constabulary force would no doubt be drawn into the disappearance of a white child—especially the white child of a wealthy family. Matters had quickly taken an unfortunate turn. He needed time to think!

  CHAPTER• 15

  KIARA HELD MOSES snugly on her lap, rocking back and forth as the child sucked his thumb. The young boy had wandered about Obadiah’s cottage and yard crying for his mother until he’d grown exhausted. After using all of her feminine skills, Kiara had finally convinced him to go home with her and eat supper. With his belly full, he’d grown weary and his eyelids now fluttered, heavy with sleep.

  Rogan sat opposite her, his gaze fixed upon the child. ‘‘I’m wonderin’ how anyone’s gonna be able to explain little Spencer’s disappearance to Miss Jasmine and Mr. Nolan when they return.’’

  ‘‘I still think it was a mistake na sending word to them. I’m thankin’ the good Lord I was na the one charged with that decision. I do na think Miss Jasmine’s gonna look kindly upon Mr. Cheever for his decision.’’

  ‘‘Aye, yet I’m hopin’ she’ll see his aim was to keep her from sufferin’. He truly thought we’d ’ave the child back afore they returned home.’’

  Kiara carried Moses to bed and then returned to her rocking chair. Pulling her thread from a basket near the chair, Kiara began creating a new piece of lace. ‘‘I’ll tell ya, Rogan, this whole matter is another reminder of how quickly life can be changin’. One moment everything is fine as can be and the next, yar whole life is turned upside down.’’

  ‘‘Ya’re right about that, lass,’’ Rogan said as a long shadow fell across the floor.

  Kiara turned and saw Obadiah standing in the doorway.

  ‘‘Come in, Obadiah. Moses fell asleep and I put ’im in bed. Sit yarself down and I’ll dish ya up some stew.’’

  Obadiah rubbed his stomach and sat down. ‘‘Thank you, but I don’ think I can eat. My belly’s been hurtin’ all day. I been thinkin’ Miz Jasmine’s gonna be comin’ home tomorrow and dere’s still no sign of Naomi or little Spencer.’’ He leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his forehead against his open palms. ‘‘She ain’ gonna be able to bear it.’’

  Kiara rocked her chair more fervently, her heart aching for the pain he must bear. She longed to offer him help, yet there was nothing anyone could say to ease his pain.

  ‘‘Don’ know what I’ll do iffen anything’s happened to Naomi. I can’t live wibout dat woman,’’ he said without lifting his head.

  ‘‘It’s times like this, when we’re feelin’ alone and helpless, we need ta remember God’s with us,’’ Kiara said. ‘‘And He’s with Naomi and Spencer too. We need ta all be prayin’ instead of thinkin’ there’s nothin’ remainin’ ta be done.’’

  ‘‘Ya’re right about that, lass,’’ Rogan said. ‘‘I’m always figurin’ I can handle things, and then when they don’t work out, I get down on me knees. Ya’d think I’d learn it should always be the other way around.’’

  ‘‘Me an’ da boy been doin’ our share of prayin’, but I ain’ so sure da Lord’s hearing us. Iffen He is, He sure ain’
let me know. It sho’ do shake a man’s faith when somethin’ like dis happens. I been tryin’ hard to hang on, telling the youngun da Lord’s gonna bring his mama home, but as da hours keeps a passin’ by and nothin’ happens, I ain’ so sure no more.’’

  ‘‘I know what ya’re sayin’ is true enough,’’ Kiara said. ‘‘ ’Tis hard to be maintainin’ faith in times of trouble, but ya must na give up hope, Obadiah. Sure as I’m sittin’ here, God’s gonna see ya through this.’’

  Jasmine clung to Nolan’s arm, feeling strangely giddy as their carriage approached the driveway. ‘‘I can barely contain my excitement. I know it’s been only a few days, yet I feel as though I haven’t seen Spencer for weeks. Do you think he’ll be angry with us for leaving him?’’

  ‘‘His anger will quickly subside when he sees all the gifts you’ve bought him. I’d even venture to say he’ll likely encourage us to leave again,’’ Nolan said with a hearty laugh.

  The carriage had barely come to a halt when Jasmine attempted to exit. Laughing at her excitement, Nolan took her hand and then helped her down. ‘‘Hurry! The baggage can wait,’’ she said, rushing up the front steps.

  Nolan followed close behind as she rushed into the foyer, but he was forced to an abrupt halt when his wife stopped short in the doorway of the parlor. Alice sat facing them with her hands folded and back straightened into a rigid posture that seemed to emanate a foreboding message.

  ‘‘What is it, Grandmother? Something has happened, hasn’t it? Something dreadful. Tell me!’’

  ‘‘Now, now, my dear. Sit down and we’ll talk,’’ Alice said in a soothing voice.

  ‘‘I prefer to stand and I want to know. Father hasn’t taken ill, has he?’’

  ‘‘No, your father is fine.’’ She paused, her expression betraying her discomfort. ‘‘It’s Spencer, dear.’’

  ‘‘Oh no. Is he sick? Where is he? Did he take the measles? I heard measles were going around.’’ Jasmine started toward the stairs.

  ‘‘He’s not sick. At least not that I know.’’ Alice drew a deep breath. ‘‘This will be difficult to comprehend, but Jasmine . . . he’s been kidnapped.’’

  The room began to spin and Jasmine felt her knees buckle. She attempted to move toward the divan. For some reason, her feet would not move, yet she could feel her body sinking deeper and deeper into a swirling eddy from which there was no escape. Nolan’s name was on her lips, but no sound would emerge. Spencer’s smiling face flitted through her memory as she slipped into the deep abyss.

  ‘‘Miss Jasmine! Can ya hear me?’’

  Kiara was leaning over her, their noses nearly touching.

  Fogginess blurred Jasmine’s thoughts as she stared back into Kiara’s chocolate brown eyes. She blinked and tried to recall why she was lying on the divan in the middle of the day.

  ‘‘Do na worry yarself. The lad is gonna be found. I can feel it here,’’ Kiara said, patting her palm on her chest.

  Spencer! That’s why she was lying on the settee. She had fainted. Her son was gone. A lump settled in her throat, squelching the scream she desired to release into the noticeably hushed room.

  An overwhelming grief settled upon her like the mantle of sorrow she’d experienced when her mother had died.

  ‘‘Noooo,’’ she moaned, shaking her head from side to side. This couldn’t be happening. Who would take her son? Why would they take him? Money? She’d gladly give them whatever they asked for. She merely needed to know what they were after.

  ‘‘Has there been any note—any letter to explain why they’ve taken him?’’

  Kiara shook her head. ‘‘None. They’ve taken Naomi too. We can’t imagine why unless the man was afraid she’d be able to identify him.’’

  Jasmine sat up with a jerk and immediately felt the blood rush from her head. ‘‘We must develop a plan,’’ she insisted.

  ‘‘Lay yar head back and rest. We’re doin’ all that’s possible ta find them.’’

  Nolan moved to her side and knelt down. ‘‘Liam has filled me in on the details of the search, Jasmine. There’s little doubt they’ve done everything possible to find Naomi and Spencer. The constables as well as many residents of Lowell and the surrounding countryside have been searching in earnest. I believe the best thing we can do is remain calm and pray.’’

  ‘‘Oh, Nolan, this is more than I can bear. It hurts so much to think of him scared and alone. And all the while, I was making merry in Boston.’’

  ‘‘We didn’t know what had happened, Jasmine. We were making merry because God brought us together in love. We aren’t being punished for something, so stop fretting. You’ve done nothing to cause this.’’

  She let Nolan cradle her in his arms, feeling the warmth, knowing the love. ‘‘He’s just a little boy, so undeserving of this. What manner of man performs such cruelties?’’

  ‘‘An evil one ta be sure,’’ Kiara said, standing over Nolan. ‘‘But evil can na be standin’ against our Lord. Ya must be havin’ faith that God will care for Spencer and see ’im home safely.’’

  Jasmine nodded, but her heart was so heavy. ‘‘If it be His will,’’ she murmured. But of course she wasn’t all that convinced. After all, it should have been well within God’s will that a small boy be protected from kidnapping.

  Oliver stroked the dapple gray Mr. Kittredge offered. ‘‘Are you certain you won’t need the horse today? I don’t want to inconvenience you.’’

  ‘‘It’s the least I can do,’’ he said. ‘‘I feel responsible that your horse was stolen. After all, if the door had been locked or I’d had the stable boy looking after things while I was gone, maybe you’d still have that strawberry roan. I keep thinking someone will find it. Too uncommon a horse to go unnoticed.’’

  Oliver reveled in the comment, pleased his deceit had been received as truth. He waited until Kittredge was out of sight before hanging a bag of oats across the horse’s back. After loading his saddlebags with additional supplies, he quickly made his way out of town.

  He traveled at a steady pace, keeping to the road for several miles before veering off to the east. Moving across the hilly farmland that spread before them, he remembered the first time he’d crossed this terrain—when he’d discovered the abandoned farmhouse. It had been on one of those tiresome journeys when he’d grown weary of traveling the same route. Thinking to save time and break the monotony of his journey, he’d grown bold, never thinking of the ramifications of a broken wheel or injured horse at a remote location. But fortune had been with him, and the only thing that had occurred was a treacherous thunderstorm.

  It was then, in his search for shelter, he’d located the deserted farmhouse and outbuildings. Weeds had overgrown what had once been a family garden, and the house was ravaged by years of neglect and offered little sanctuary. But he’d found the root cellar and there, beneath the ground, he’d found safety from the storm and a secret place where he could occasionally stop and lose himself in dreams of a better life. A perverse smile crossed his lips, knowing he’d outsmarted the locals. None of those men had searched anywhere near the secluded farm.

  ‘‘Fools!’’ he muttered as he dismounted and tied the horse to a nearby tree. With the sack of grain over his shoulder, he made his way to the stall, deciding to exercise the strawberry roan after checking on the woman and child.

  Oliver stopped to catch his breath after removing the pile of branches and rocks he’d placed over the entry to the root cellar. He was certain the drugs he’d forced into the woman and child had kept them sedated, yet he’d blocked the door as an added precaution. He didn’t want the woman escaping before he returned. Although he hadn’t planned to revisit the site until tomorrow, he now knew he must positively establish the identity of the child he’d placed in the dank hole in the ground. His heart pounded as he pulled back the heavy door.

  The woman and child were exactly as he left them, sleeping soundly on the blankets he’d placed on the ground. After all, he didn’t want the
m getting ill. The price of a sickly Negro decreased considerably—especially for a small-framed woman and child. Pulling the drawing of Moses’ foot from his pocket, he placed it against the sole of the boy’s foot and then rocked back on his heels. This boy’s foot was much larger than the drawing. Angrily, he thrust the drawing to the dirt floor and rubbed his forehead. He’d taken Spencer Houston. Not a black child, but a wealthy white woman’s son.

  ‘‘I need a plan,’’ Oliver said between clenched teeth. He walked back up the steps, deciding a short ride on his horse would give the animal some needed exercise and would also permit him time to think. He saddled the horse and rode for nearly an hour before stopping near a stream. Sitting under a tree and watching as the horse drank deeply from the flowing water, Oliver formulated his strategy.

  By the time he had returned to the barn, he knew the woman must die. He could bury her in the root cellar and then pretend to find Spencer Houston. He’d be a hero and certainly entitled to a reward. Yet the thought gave him little consolation. He doubted the Houstons would give him anywhere near what he had expected to receive when he sold the woman and child into slavery. And the thought of actually killing a woman gave him pause—he’d have to think on the matter tonight. The two of them should sleep until morning. He’d return and do what was required. He had no choice.

  Naomi felt the cold in her bones before even fully awakening to the darkness around her. She had dreamed of working in the fields, only these fields weren’t in the South, they were cold and unyielding. Pushing the dream away, she struggled to sit up. Her head ached something fierce, and a dizziness overcame her that seemed to settle only when she put her head back down.