“Safely off to Sinai.”
“I wish I had known. I would have gone to wish them Godspeed.”
His mother removed the bacon warming in the stove and brought it to the table. “They must all go to Canada now. The risk of staying is too great. Mr. Lawrence will report back to us when he returns.”
The table was set and breakfast was ready.
“I’ll call the others,” Ben said.
His father’s voice drifted in from the parlor. “It’s all right, Ben, I’ll wake them up.” His father crossed into view, turned on the landing, and headed up the stairs with a spring in his step.
One by one, the children wandered downstairs and assembled in the kitchen. Samuel sat on Ann’s lap. Lizzie and Willie perched on opposite ends of the bench, where they would not be tempted to get into mischief. Amanda and Jenny positioned themselves between the smaller ones and helped serve food from hot plates. Anna sat at the foot of the table, distracted and grumpy looking. She was not an early riser.
“Where’s Cyrus?” Ben’s father asked.
His mother wiped her hands and went to her seat. “He went out to do the stalls an hour ago, but he should have been back by now,” she said.
“Well, I suppose we must eat without him.” His father pulled up a chair. He folded his hands to pray. “Shall we say the blessing?”
The kitchen door opened and Cyrus came in.
His mother froze in the act of folding Sam’s hands, staring at her son. Cyrus was covered in dust and grime. A large bruise darkened the side of his face, which also bore several scratches. His lip was swollen and streaked with red.
He refused to meet anyone’s eyes and limped up the stairs in sulky silence.
Lizzie asked curiously, “Why is Cyrus—”
“Shush!” their mother said. She glanced at Ben with reproof.
He did not care what she thought. “Will you pass the biscuits?” he said to Amanda. He took one and began to butter it, trying not to look too satisfied. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father watching him.
“We haven’t prayed yet, son,” he said.
Ben put the biscuit down.
The family bowed their heads, and his father began, “Loving Father, forgive us our trespasses. Help us to remember each day that a gentle word turns away wrath, and that he who lives by the sword shall die by the sword.”
Ben opened his eyes. His father was watching him over the bowed heads of the others.
He returned his father’s gaze without blinking and waited for the rest of the prayer.
“Lord, soften our hard hearts, and help us forgive one another,” his father said.
Small chance of that. He savored again the satisfaction of telling Cyrus with controlled fury that they had a matter to settle behind the barn. Once hidden from view, Ben had said to his brother, “You’ve exposed an innocent and admirable woman to public ridicule. As you can’t seem to behave like a gentleman, I’ll give you a lesson in manners. Defend yourself.”
With resentment and fear filling his face, Cyrus had thrown a wild punch, and the fight was on. The result had led to his inglorious entrance two minutes ago.
His father closed the prayer. “Amen,” the rest of the family echoed.
After breakfast, Ben’s father laid a hand on his shoulder. “Will you take a walk with me, son?” It was not really a question.
They left the house together without speaking. As his father strolled down the road toward the creek, Ben followed a step or two behind. He did not want to have this discussion. They passed Northwest Street.
His father dropped back to walk beside Ben and shoved his hands in his pockets. In the protracted silence, the sounds around them seemed louder—their footfalls, some chirps from sparrows, and the rustle of a squirrel overhead in the branches.
“You seem to care for the young woman who sang last night—Miss Winter, I believe?” his father said.
“What of it? I care for many of my friends,” Ben said. It sounded transparent and juvenile.
“You know what I’m asking you, Benjamin.”
He searched for an answer that was truthful and yet comfortably vague. Nothing sufficed.
His father rephrased. “Do you care for her only as a young friend, or as a grown man cares for a woman?”
He did not want to answer, but it was his father, and he could not refuse. “As a man cares for a woman.” Ben fiddled with the button of his sleeve. It was as awkward as the day years ago when his father explained to him the physical side of love between a man and a woman.
“Then it must have been all the more difficult to hear what your brother so foolishly said last night.”
Ben could not respond, swamped by the return of raw emotion. Would Kate ever speak to him again? Her mother would certainly loathe him now.
His father spoke with compassion. “We can’t always control our feelings, whether they spring from love or wrath. But we mustn’t allow our darker passions to vent themselves on others. I did that once, Ben—when I hated my master above all else. It almost destroyed me.”
They were entering a denser part of the forest where the road turned into a path and sloped down to the creek.
The gravel crunched under their feet. “I know you love your brother,” his father said. “He has wounded you, yes. But he’s your brother.”
Ben didn’t wish to reply.
“I also need to ask you something,” his father said. “You’ve told me before that you plan to go into ministry and teaching. Is this still true?”
“Yes.”
“And we both know those professions will not make you rich.”
Where was this leading? “No, sir.”
“The most you can hope for is modest comfort, as we have in our own home right now. And we’ve been blessed with prosperity far beyond that of most ministers’ families.”
“Yes.” Ben waited for his father’s point.
“It’s most likely that you will be less than comfortable in your material life,” his father continued. “And that will affect a wife, and any children you may have. They will make the same sacrifices as you.”
“I know Mother has had to make do,” Ben said. “But it hasn’t been so bad for her, has it?”
“My travel made your mother’s life very challenging at times. I know it caused her worry and sorrow that many wives never know. And it was very tiring, and took a toll on her health.”
“But she’s healthy and strong.”
“Yes, praise God, she is. And it was that strong constitution that saved her in our leaner years. But I chastised myself many times for putting the woman I loved through such hardship.” He stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face Ben. “Your mother grew up on a farm and was accustomed to hard physical labor. A minister’s wife must be an unusually strong woman, physically and spiritually.”
“It’s not easy to judge a woman’s spiritual strength,” Ben said. “Some might say almost impossible, without marrying her. Are we finished with our walk?”
“Almost.” His father turned back toward the house, and Ben followed. It was harder going this way, as it was uphill now.
“There can be other obstacles when a man cares for a woman.” His father’s walk slowed. “If her parents don’t approve, then there’s no use in pining for what one can’t have.”
Ben stared at the ground. “How do you know her parents wouldn’t approve?”
“You forget, son, that I hear many things in my work as a minister, many things I don’t even care to hear. The Winters don’t attend our chapel, but they are friendly with some who do. Mrs. Winter is ambitious for her daughter. I doubt she will look with favor on a future minister.”
“Well, Father, after what Cyrus has done, I doubt that Kate Winter herself will look with favor on me, or anyone else in our family,” Ben said, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. “So while I appreciate your words, I think they are unnecessary.” He glanced sidelong at his father and saw pity on his
face.
Ben could not bear it. “I’ll see you at home,” he tossed over his shoulder, and strode ahead, heedless of his aches and stiffness. His father stayed back and let him go on alone.
Kate had kept to her room for two days.
Tessie knocked and opened the door a crack. “Miss, would you like a cup of tea?”
“No thank you, Tessie.” Kate sat in a chair turned toward the wall, a lap board balanced on her knees with a Greek reader atop it. Study had been her only respite from what had happened. She was struggling through a difficult Greek passage, but her mind kept wandering as the characters blurred before her tired eyes.
She sighed and let her head droop back against the high velvet back of the chair. The only small consolation was that her father had been away for much of the time since her return, though no one knew where. At least she did not have to fear for their safety in addition to everything else. And he would not learn what had happened at the musicale, with all its searing humiliation.
“Kate, I wish to speak with you.” Her mother’s dry voice cut the air of the room, and Tessie hurried out. Kate did not blame her.
“Yes, Mother.” She turned in her chair and raised her head.
“I need to address the comments made by that Hanby boy,” her mother said, her mouth tense and white. She gripped an embroidery frame as if unconscious of it in her hand.
It seemed irrelevant to inform her of Cyrus’s name.
“He seemed to imply that you and his elder brother were courting.”
Kate closed her eyes but then forced them open. She must not look guilty. She had done nothing wrong—but then, she had hidden the truth about aiding fugitives.
“I hope you haven’t been conducting yourself shamelessly without my knowledge.” Her mother twisted the embroidery work in her fingers.
Kate bit her lip. “No, Mother, I have no suitors other than the one you know of, Frederick Jones.”
“Then why did that idiotic young man seem to think you did?”
“I do not know.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her mother’s hands were so rigid they threatened to snap her embroidery frame in two.
Kate had not intended to lie, but it was a lie to pretend not to know. She did in fact know why Cyrus had said it. She must tell the truth, painful though it might be.
“I believe Cyrus Hanby thinks his brother is—attached—to me.” Kate’s hand shook at the top of her lap board. She laid the board aside on the small table next to her chair.
“Ben Hanby? Have you encouraged him in some way?” Her mother fired out the words like bullets.
“I don’t believe I’ve done anything improper. I’ve exchanged no intimate words or promises with Ben Hanby. And I assure you that at this moment, I have not the slightest desire to see him ever again.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.” Her mother’s voice lowered the temperature of the room. “I’m delighted to hear you do not wish to keep company with Ben Hanby. He is not fit to court you. He will have no solid living. I forbid you to spend any more time in his company.” Her mother stalked out of the room, stiff-backed.
A rush of nausea made Kate sink back against the chair and close her eyes. If she had not joined Ben Hanby’s mission and sung in his musicale, none of this would have happened.
Could anyone see her admiration for him in her eyes? Did she show it? Would people believe that what Cyrus said was true? Any romantic attraction to Ben Hanby was foolish, schoolgirl thinking. Look where it had led her. Her most private feelings would become a subject of public discussion. She would have to walk through the town and endure speculations and whispered jokes.
Running away was no longer an option, now that she wished to finish at Otterbein and equip herself for helping others like Nelly. But she had more than enough reason to keep away from Ben Hanby, even without her mother’s order.
Twenty-Three
“I WANT YOU TO TELL ME ABOUT KATE WINTER.” Frederick leaned over the counter on the saddle and harness side of the Haynie & Hanby store.
Ben stopped in the act of hanging a harness on the display rack. “What do you mean?” Frederick must mean the musicale. That was rude of him. A flush rose up Ben’s neck—he pulled at his collar with an impatient movement.
“Oh, don’t get yourself in a knot.” Frederick grinned. “Of course I’m not referring to what your brother said. I know you. After all, I had first claim to Miss Winter, and I’m certain you would never horn in on another man’s affairs of the heart.” He sat down on the high stool, still elegant in his light linen summer coat.
“I don’t think we should discuss the young lady,” Ben said.
“Don’t be such an old woman. You’re my closest friend, and I need a confidant.” Light spilled into the store window, casting a heroic light over Frederick, with his bronzed good looks and his expensive clothing. “I plan to marry Miss Winter.”
Ben looked at him for a long moment, then opened the saddlery account ledger and ran his finger over the numbers. He must not react in a way that would foment any talk about Miss Winter or make her the object of an open rivalry. “And will she agree with your plan?” he asked Frederick.
“I don’t know. That’s why I wish you to tell me about her state of mind. You spent time in her company on your return from Cincinnati, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Did she mention me?”
“No.” He closed the ledger and took a breath.
“Oh.” Frederick’s face fell but then brightened again. “Did she mention anyone else who might hold a place in her heart?”
“No.” The image of Nelly and her baby in the ferns rose up in his mind. Frederick had no idea who had a place in Kate’s heart. Ben took a saddle from the wall rack and pretended to check the stitching in its gullet.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so glum,” Frederick said. “You mustn’t take what happened too hard. Yes, people will talk for a few weeks, but it will die down. And if she is seen with me a great deal, no one will remember it at all. Though I may have to do some convincing with Mother.” He made a wry grimace. “But Miss Winter will make a perfect wife for a politician. She’ll never say an inappropriate word in public.”
At Ben’s sharp look, Frederick added in a rush, “And, of course, she’s beautiful and accomplished and I’d find it easy to be swept away by her.”
The door to the street opened and the bell jingled.
“Hello, Ben!” Mr. Jones was all cheer and well-fed satisfaction. “Have you recovered from your expedition?” He strode in like a colossus, filling half the small store with his body and the rest with his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Ben said. At least Mr. Jones had not asked about the musicale.
“Frederick told me you all looked mighty strange when you came back.” Mr. Jones stopped smiling and his eyebrows quirked. “You weren’t up to any shenanigans, were you?”
“No, sir.” That was odd. He did not like to be questioned on the subject of the journey, and it seemed so long ago. Why had Mr. Jones brought it up?
“Good!” Mr. Jones clapped Ben on the shoulder, grinning again. “Has Frederick told you about our plan?”
Ben turned to his friend, who shook his sleek head a fraction. Not the same plan, apparently.
“No, sir,” Ben said.
“It’s a capital one. As a result of our visit to the club, Frederick has been invited to clerk in a lawyer’s office and learn the profession to be certain it suits him.”
“And I know it will,” Frederick said.
“Yes, but you must finish at Otterbein before you turn lawyer,” his father said. “At any rate, we’ve decided that Frederick must stay at school for at least the next academic year before taking a clerkship. But his place is assured.”
“Very good, sir. My congratulations.” He couldn’t mourn his friend’s departure too much, in light of what Frederick had just confided.
“But we have even better news,” Frederick said, and lo
oked at his father with an expectant glow.
“Indeed we do.” Mr. Jones lowered his voice. “You may go this fall in Frederick’s place, if you wish.”
Ben laid the hole-punching tool down on the counter. “Sir?”
“The lawyer from the club was impressed by you as well. And he works in a very large office. There will be more than one clerkship available in the future. I’ll even help you with any necessary expenses. What a boon for you, eh?” He looked back and forth between them.
“Think of it, Ben,” Frederick said. “You always take the fall semester off anyway, for your teaching. But now you could study for the law. The two of us might even work in the same office as partners one day. Magnificent.”
“That is a very generous offer, Mr. Jones, from both you and the lawyer,” Ben said.
The gray-haired man smiled. “You’re a worthy young man. Besides which, you may find that study of the law changes your opinions for the better.”
“I don’t catch your meaning, sir.”
“Oh, never mind all that. What do you think—will you go to the clerkship?”
Ben did not know where to begin. Perhaps with the practical considerations. “Mr. Jones, it’s true that I usually take the fall term off—”
“Yes, it’s perfect, you see.” He beamed at Ben.
“But I do so in order to earn my tuition at Otterbein. By teaching schoolchildren in Rushville.”
Mr. Jones waved a beefy hand. “Yes, yes, I know all that. But with my support and a clerk’s stipend, you would save just as much to put toward your tuition.”
“Yes, sir. I must consider it.” He cast a staggered glance at the saddles, the leather, everything he and his father labored over to provide their family income. Mr. Jones could offer him entry into a professional living at ten times the earnings of a saddler, with a single wave of his hand.
“You must agree, Ben.” Frederick jumped to his feet. “Shh.” He raised a finger to forestall objection. “Think on it. There’s a month until you need to give an answer.”
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