Oliver moved to the edge of his chair. ‘‘Truly? If you would care to confide more particulars, I will do all in my power to secure additional shoes before their arrival.’’
‘‘You are much too kind, Oliver.’’
He stroked his mustache and smiled. ‘‘It’s my pleasure to help the cause.’’
CHAPTER• 17
BEFORE NOLAN REACHED the top of the stairs, he heard Jasmine’s sobs. This had become an all too familiar sound since their return from Boston. He tapped lightly on the bedroom door before entering, without expecting an answer. When Jasmine took to her bed in these bouts of tears, she heard nothing but her own outpouring of sorrow.
‘‘My dear,’’ he said gently, perching on the edge of the bed and rubbing her back. ‘‘Is there nothing I can do to console you?’’
‘‘Find Spencer and Naomi.’’
Her reply was always the same. ‘‘We’re doing all we can, Jasmine. If it were some simple matter, they would already be home.
I know your concern is great—as is my own. However, you do no one any good when you become incapacitated by your fears.’’
‘‘I can’t help myself,’’ she sobbed. ‘‘Have you talked to Matthew Cheever? Is there any word at all?’’
‘‘I assumed he would send word if there were anything to report, but I will go and talk to him if it will make you feel better.’’
‘‘Please,’’ she whispered, wiping her swollen eyes with a corner of the bedsheet.
‘‘If you’re certain you’ll be all right, I’ll leave immediately.’’
‘‘I’ll be fine,’’ she whispered, her fingers wrapped tightly around the cotton lace that edged the white sheets.
Despite the early afternoon warmth, Nolan left her ensconced in layers of bed linens and blankets. He knew she would fight any attempt he made to remove them, just as he knew she would remain silent when he bid her good-bye.
The Cheevers would likely be enjoying their Sunday dinner when he arrived, yet he felt no remorse about interrupting them. Too frequently of late he found himself recalling Madelaine Wainwright’s bouts with melancholy. And although Jasmine’s grief over Spencer was well founded, he didn’t want to see her following in Madelaine’s footsteps under any circumstances. He wanted to see her rise up and fight rather than give way to defeat.
He knocked on the Cheevers’ door. His mind overflowed with thoughts of the kidnapping, and he wondered when all of this would possibly cease. Would they ever find Naomi and Spencer?
Were they still alive? Surely if they were still in the area they would have been found by now.
‘‘Nolan! What a pleasant surprise,’’ Matthew greeted. ‘‘Come join us. We’re just getting ready to enjoy dinner.’’
‘‘Thank you, but I can’t stay. I promised Jasmine I would come by the house and see if there had been any word about Spencer and Naomi. I assured her you would have sent word, but she has taken to her bed and isn’t easily consoled.’’
‘‘Jasmine is ill?’’ McKinley asked as he approached the other two men.
‘‘Sick of being without her child. I fear she’s permitting her distress to control her life. I can’t get her to leave the confines of her bedroom for even a few hours,’’ Nolan explained.
‘‘Visions of our mother,’’ McKinley said quietly.
‘‘My thoughts exactly. Yet I can’t seem to find any way to shake her from her despair. I hoped you might give me some word of encouragement that I can take to her.’’
‘‘I wish that I could,’’ Matthew said. ‘‘However, we’ve found nothing—not a sign. In my heart I still believe that shoe peddler is involved, yet there’s no further evidence of his complicity. Out- side of continuing the search, I can think of nothing further to do.’’
‘‘I’m giving consideration to offering a reward. What do you think of such an idea?’’ Nolan asked.
Matthew glanced at the floor and stroked his chin before turning his gaze back to Nolan. ‘‘I’d like to think that if anyone has information, he’d come forward without the offer of money. What makes you think a reward will help?’’
‘‘Elinor Brighton came by to pay Jasmine a visit the other day, and although Jasmine wasn’t up to receiving her, Elinor left a note.
I read her short missive just this morning. She made the suggestion that a reward might prove beneficial. Seems that an itinerant salesman had posed the possibility that money sometimes loosens tongues, and she wanted to pass along the idea.’’
‘‘Interesting. It’s true there are any number of transients passing through Lowell who might have a piece of information and yet feel no moral obligation to come forward,’’ Matthew said.
‘‘And a few gold coins may be all the incentive that is needed,’’ McKinley enthusiastically agreed. ‘‘You could place an ad in the newspaper, where it will gain enough attention that the reward will soon be discussed all over town.’’
Violet came forward and stood beside McKinley. ‘‘Why don’t you stay for dinner, Mr. Houston? We can discuss this further; and then McKinley and I can return home with you. Perhaps if we can enthusiastically present your plan to Mrs. Houston, she’ll regain hope.’’
‘‘How kind of you,’’ Nolan replied. ‘‘I think you’ve an excellent idea.’’
Oliver greeted Enoch and Joseph with energetic handshakes before sitting down. He’d given them directions to a small inn located ten miles south of Lowell, where he’d not be recognized by any locals. ‘‘It’s good to see both of you. I trust you had no difficulty getting here?’’
‘‘Only a lack of funds that caused us to sleep outdoors on our way up from Baltimore,’’ Enoch replied.
Oliver ignored the remark but ordered food for all of them, hoping they’d be willing to remain compliant on a full stomach. ‘‘I’ve brought you here in order to help line your pockets with gold,’’ he said. ‘‘You should be thankful, for I could have found any number of good men willing to help with my plan for much less than what I’ve offered the two of you.’’
‘‘We are thankful,’’ Enoch said, wiping his mouth across his sleeve. ‘‘We never doubted you was going to be loyal to us.’’
With a decisive nod of his head, Oliver carefully explained that a large group of runaways was expected. ‘‘With the Fugitive Slave Act in place, the marshal is required to help anyone attempting to return runaways. Once I’ve confirmed the information, you two go and talk to the marshal—repeat exactly what I tell you. He’ll have no choice but to help with the capture and then turn the slaves over to you.’’
‘‘What about you, Oliver? Ain’t you gonna help?’’ Joseph asked.
Oliver shook his head and gazed heavenward. ‘‘You’re as dumb as a fencepost, Joseph. If the law finds out I’m involved, I’ll never be able to gain further information about runaways. Don’t you remember how this is supposed to work? I find out when and where the runaways come through, while you and Enoch help with the capture and return them down South.’’
‘‘I remember,’’ Joseph said. ‘‘It just seems as though you’re getting the easy part of the deal.’’
With a quick jab, Enoch poked Joseph in the ribs. ‘‘Shut up, Joseph. There wouldn’t be no slaves for us to take back and sell if Oliver didn’t get the information and pass it along to us.’’
‘‘If you want out, I can find others who’d be more than happy to take your share of the money,’’ Oliver threatened.
With an embarrassed grin, Joseph said, ‘‘Naw, I was just sporting with ya.’’
‘‘I’ll be meeting tonight to make certain the runaways are still coming through as planned. Unless you hear from me, go to the marshal tomorrow afternoon and tell them you’ve word of run- aways coming through the next night. I won’t be there helping you, but rest assured I’ll be watching from nearby,’’ he said before slapping several coins on the table. ‘‘Sleep here tonight. I want you where I can easily find you if there’s a change in plans.’’
The two days passed slowly. Now, waiting in a clump of bushes only a short distance from Enoch, Joseph, and several constables, Oliver clenched his jaw and listened for the sound of the runaways approaching. Elinor had confirmed they would be taking this path tonight and, for the moment, he had nothing to do but wait, hidden from both the runaways and their hopeful captors.
Suddenly he heard the hushed whispers. He held his breath, hoping the others had heard the sounds. Slowly and quietly, he exhaled. The sounds were growing closer, nearing the place where Enoch and Joseph were hidden with their weapons. He watched as several runaways made their way past the men and then signaled for the others to move forward. As the group reconnected, Enoch and the other men made their move. Completely off guard and unable to respond to the threat, most of the group immediately capitulated to the men.
Only one of the large bucks attempted to run away, and he was quickly stopped when Joseph held out a branch and tripped him. The runaway tumbled forward, striking his head on an adjacent tree, rendering the man unconscious. Had he not witnessed the event, Oliver would have disbelieved the ease with which the slaves were detained. They were unarmed and offered little resistance, and none could produce papers proving they had been freed—so all were subject to the Fugitive Slave Act.
Oliver longed to applaud the efforts of his partners but forced himself to remain quiet. Their plans would quickly unravel should the marshal learn of his connection to Enoch and Joseph. Once the group had departed, he mounted his horse and headed back to his room at the Merrimack House.
‘‘At least something went right,’’ he murmured. He was still wrestling with thoughts of what to do about the Houston boy and the Negro woman. The woman had convinced him that leaving her alive, at least for the moment, was the better plan. He would only need to go back to the abandoned farm on rare occasion with Naomi caring for the child. He simply would drop off supplies and resecure the prison he’d formed for them.
‘‘I’ll know if you’ve so much as climbed the stairs,’’ he’d told Naomi after sprinkling flour on each step. He’d promised to kill her swiftly if she attempted any type of escape—even hunt her down should she somehow be successful. The woman seemed amply convinced by his threats, and so far he’d not noticed any attempt on her part to flee her confinement. Of course, putting laudanum in the soup and tea he brought had only helped his effort.
‘‘Still, I must do something soon. The weather is sure to turn any day.’’ Oliver was still muttering to himself when the lights of Lowell welcomed him back. And then, as if the lights stimulated his mind’s own brilliance, a plan began to form in his mind. A plan that just might work.
The following afternoon, after delivering additional food and assuring himself Naomi and Spencer remained secure, Oliver knocked on the door of Elinor’s boardinghouse and waited several minutes until the door swung open.
‘‘Oliver! I wasn’t expecting you.’’
‘‘I had deliveries nearby and thought perhaps you might be ready to relax a moment and have a cup of tea,’’ he said. ‘‘You appear distressed. Is something amiss?’’
Elinor tucked a straggling piece of hair behind one ear and gave him a bewildered look. ‘‘The runaways were due at their safe house last night. But they never arrived. I’m fearful they’ve been captured. Oh, where are my manners? I’ve left you standing in the doorway. Do come in and have a cup of tea.’’
Oliver followed her through the house and into the kitchen and watched as she deftly prepared a pot of tea and then poured two steaming cups. ‘‘Shall we remain here in the kitchen, or would you prefer to sit in the parlor?’’ he asked.
‘‘The parlor. I spend far too much of my time in the kitchen.’’
‘‘Let me carry those,’’ he said, placing the cups on a nearby tray.
Elinor wearily settled on the divan and took a sip of tea. ‘‘I am terribly worried about those poor runaways. I haven’t been able to keep my thoughts straight all day. Have you heard any word in your travels this morning?’’
‘‘Truthfully, that’s why I stopped to see you. However, I didn’t believe it prudent to discuss the matter on your doorstep. I wanted to assure myself we could talk in private.’’
Elinor placed her cup on the tray and focused her undivided attention upon him. ‘‘Please tell me what you’ve heard.’’
‘‘The constables were called in to assist with capturing the runaways under the provisions of the Fugitive Slave Act. I believe all of the runaways were detained and are possibly being returned to their owners as we speak. It grieves me to bring such devastating news, but the moment I heard, my primary concern was for you. I knew if you’d received word of the capture, you would be distraught. I wanted to lend my comfort and assure you of my willingness to help in any way possible.’’
‘‘You are so very kind to put aside your own business interests to come and offer your assistance. Do you believe your information is reliable?’’
‘‘Unfortunately, I believe it is. I’m certain word will soon begin to spread about town once the constables begin discussing the incident. They’ll likely find the matter a topic of interest since I believe this is the first time they’ve been called into service under the Fugitive Slave Act,’’ he added.
‘‘A terrible law! However, for those of us committed to seeing slavery come to an end, it only heightens our resolve. Don’t you agree?’’
‘‘Absolutely. And I’m pleased to see this entire debacle is only one setback. I’m certain our successes in gaining freedom for the runaways will far outnumber instances such as this one.’’
The clock in the hallway chimed, and Elinor jumped to her feet as though the house were afire. ‘‘I must begin supper or the girls will return to an empty table.’’
‘‘Already? It’s but four o’clock. The girls will be working until seven, will they not?’’
‘‘You men have absolutely no idea how long it takes to prepare a decent meal. And believe me, these girls eat as much as any farmhand while expecting the food to far surpass the fare they had at home.’’
Oliver reluctantly followed her to the door. He had hoped to engage her in further conversation, yet he dared not push. He’d return in a few days when she had more information to share.
Elinor waited until she was certain Oliver had departed the vicinity before tying her bonnet into place and leaving the house.
With a purposeful step, she quickly walked to town and marched onward until she reached the city hall.
‘‘I’d like to speak to the city marshal. It’s very important,’’ she told the clerk who was sitting at an oversized wooden desk.
The man nodded and rose, walking into a room off to the left.
He soon returned with a tall man whom Elinor immediately recognized from a number of antislavery meetings. She walked toward him.
‘‘I am Elinor Brighton. May I speak with you privately?’’
‘‘Of course. Why don’t you come into my office,’’ Emil Baxter replied.
Elinor followed him until they reached his office, where he offered her a chair and then sat down at his desk. ‘‘Now, how may I be of assistance to you?’’
‘‘I’ve been told you are an active participant in the Underground Railroad. I know I’ve seen you at antislavery meetings in the past, but of course there are many who attend those meetings yet do not assist with the Underground,’’ she said, her words tumbling out like bubbling water in a brook.
‘‘And if I am?’’ he inquired evenly.
‘‘There was a group of runaways due through Lowell last night. They’ve not appeared at their station. I’ve been told by a reliable source that you were involved in their capture under the requirements of the Fugitive Slave Act. Is that information correct?’’
Mr. Baxter stood and placed his palms on the desk, leaning forward across the wooden expanse until they were nearly nose to nose. His face had turned a deep shade of red. ‘‘Did your informant say where he received such i
nformation?’’
‘‘No. Why does it concern you where the information came from?’’
‘‘Because no one was told of the incident; the runaways were apprehended and left immediately with their civilian captors.
Those of us who were required to assist vowed to remain silent regarding the entire matter. Consequently, I’m wondering how your friend acquired the information—unless he was somehow involved.’’
Elinor’s mouth dropped open, dumbfounded by the announcement.
CHAPTER• 18
ONCE AGAIN BORROWING Mr. Kittredge’s horse, Oliver loaded his wagon and headed eagerly toward the outskirts of Lowell. He kept to the road until he was well out of town. Maintaining a watchful eye, he made certain no one was in sight when he turned off the dirt road and headed toward the abandoned farmhouse. His excitement continued to build as he neared the dilapidated barn. He jumped down and led the horse and wagon into the structure.
Enoch stepped out of the shadows, the shuffling sound of his feet causing Oliver to hesitate. ‘‘It’s me, Oliver. I thought you was never gonna get here. Do you know how hard it’s been keeping all these runaways quiet?’’
‘‘You won’t be complaining when you get all that money we’re going to make off of them. Just be thankful I told you to bring along shackles, or the two of you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep last night. I’ve brought some supplies, and I have one more runaway for you to take along,’’ he said. ‘‘I’ll go and get her while you transfer the supplies to your wagon.’’
A short time later, Oliver returned. He held Naomi firmly by the arm as they neared Enoch. ‘‘You need to get her in shackles right away. She’ll run if given any opportunity,’’ he warned.
‘‘She’s sure enough a beauty, but she don’t look like she could run ten feet. She sickly?’’ Enoch asked.
A Love Woven True Page 23
