Touching the Sky

by Tracie Peterson

  Esther shook her head. “Bein’ able to read still ain’t gonna make they skin white. Ain’t no white man ever gonna respect ’em so long as they black. Change like that ain’t gonna come in my lifetime, not less’n we can touch the sky.”

  Laura knew the sad truth of the woman’s words. “Perhaps in time, things will be different. We’ve already seen a great many changes, Esther. We must trust God to help us through.”

  “God, He be all I got,” she said with a thoughtful smile. “He all I need. He faithful.”

  Laura nodded. “So faithful.”

  When Brandon arrived later that day, Laura was still thinking about Esther’s comments. Was there really so little hope that things could change in her lifetime? When she and Brandon stepped outside before supper, Laura found herself wanting to know what he thought.

  “I have a secret,” she began.

  Brandon looked at her with a raised brow. “A secret?”

  She smiled. “I’m giving reading lessons to Esther and her sons.”

  “Esther is the one who helps in the kitchen, isn’t she?”

  Laura nodded. “She used to be a slave. She was one of the few fortunate enough to remain with her husband and children. But her husband died a couple of years back. She lost an infant, as well. She mentioned to me how much she wanted to learn to read, and so I agreed to meet with her each morning. Now we’re meeting just once a week. Trying to do it every day was too daunting.” Laura gauged his expression for disapproval but found none. She hurried to continue.

  “I know your family was involved in helping slaves escape the South. Can you tell me more about it? How did you get involved?”

  Brandon placed her hand in the crook of his arm and began to stroll the grounds. He was silent a moment before replying. “My father is a minister, as you know. He also raises some of the most beautiful Thoroughbred horses you would ever want to own.”

  “I remember your mentioning that.” Laura smiled.

  “Yes. His business as a horseman often took him south. He had many connections in Tennessee and Georgia. While there, he often saw the abuses going on. He would tell my mother and me how there were men who treated their horses better than their workers. Men who would never consider laying a whip to the back of a Thoroughbred would beat a Negro slave to death.” Brandon shook his head. “Some of his stories were appalling, and I will not repeat them.”

  “I would not want you to dwell on the ugliness. Tell me instead what you did to help the slaves.”

  “We worked with friends and managed to locate safe havens for those on the run. Sometimes my father would even hide runaways in his wagon. He was very nearly caught on more than one occasion, but God always seemed to shield the eyes of those slave hunters. My father said it was almost as if they became invisible.” Brandon paused and gave a chuckle. “He used to love to tell about the time he was heading home after having delivered a string of horses to a very harsh man in Georgia. He arranged to bring two young slaves—a husband and wife—back to Indiana with him. Unfortunately the owner found out the couple was missing and set out searching for them before my father got all that far.”

  “What happened?” Laura asked, gripping his arm a little tighter.

  “They caught up to my father, though the owner had no idea he was the one who had helped the runaways. The man figured the couple had used my father’s presence as a diversion and had probably run off in the night. He ranted and raved about what he was going to do to those two when he found them. When the dog handlers caught up with him, the hounds went crazy, baying at the wagon. My father thought for sure that he would be found out.”

  “But he wasn’t?”

  “No. The owner chided the driver for not controlling the animals. He reminded his men that only the night before Negros had been crawling all over that wagon loading some of the goods my father had purchased or taken in trade. This was especially true of the young man my father had helped to escape. He had been helping to stack the load and so of course his scent was all over that wagon.”

  “How like God,” Laura said in amazement.

  Brandon nodded. “The two were hidden in with the crates and no one was the wiser. Father even encouraged the owner to check the load, feeling confident that he would refuse, which he did. When Father arrived across the river in Indiana, he began to sing hymns of thanksgiving. But it wasn’t until he was safely on his own property that he began to relax.”

  “Where did the slaves go after that?”

  The day was fading and Brandon turned to guide them back toward the house, where the lights had already been lit. “We had friends who lived about twenty miles to the north of us. We would send the runaways on to them and they in turn had someone else they could send them to after that. It wasn’t easy, but it was the best we had to offer.”

  “Were you ever found out?”

  Brandon shook his head. “There were many close calls, but it was by God’s divine providence that we escaped mostly unnoticed. When I joined the army, I knew I wanted to work with some of those same men I’d helped to free.”

  “And do you have any regrets?”

  He stopped and looked at her. “Only that we saved so few. So many perished before getting to us or shortly after. They were malnourished and sick from being on the run. Some had severe wounds from beatings.” He shuddered and Laura put her hand on his cheek.

  “You needn’t dwell on it further. I’m proud to call you friend—to know what you did to help your fellowman. That’s what I want to do, as well. I want to help the former slaves. The way I see it, the men in charge didn’t want the blacks to be able to read and write for fear of the power it would give them. Knowledge is power . . . power that can change lives. I want to help bring that about.”

  Brandon raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “That’s only one of the many things I adore about you.”

  She laughed, but the feel of his lips sent a delicious tingle down her spine. Laura felt weak-kneed and awkward.

  “So . . . so you’ll keep my secret?” she asked.

  “One among many.” Brandon looked up at the house and then back to Laura. “Have you had any further news on your brother-in-law?”

  “None,” Laura admitted. “I’ve scarcely seen my sister or Malcolm. I talked briefly to my father last evening, but he hadn’t spoken to Malcolm, either. At least not recently. Father did mention a while back that Malcolm likes spending time with Father’s Unionist friends. He said Malcolm desires to see the city return to normal, but I think Malcolm is all talk. He most likely wants to be with my father and his friends for other reasons.”

  “No doubt he’s anxious to gather any helpful information for his cause,” Brandon said, frowning. “Do you suppose your sister might be of help?”

  “Carissa? She hates the affairs of men.” Then Laura remembered something Carissa had told her a while back. “She did mention that Malcolm is using the first floor bedroom as an office. Carissa had no idea why he would need an office.”

  “Does he keep it locked?” Brandon asked.

  “That would be my guess. Although I really don’t know. I suppose I could go visit Carissa and see for myself.”

  “I don’t like the idea of putting you in danger, but that would be useful information.”

  Laura nodded. “I’ll see if I can convince Mother that we need to call on Carissa Monday. Would that be too soon?”

  “It would be perfect. What time do you think you’ll call?”

  “I’ll suggest that we should take Carissa to lunch. We’ll send a note to her tonight.”

  “No, don’t. It would be better if Malcolm doesn’t suspect anything. Just show up to see her.”

  Laura knew it wouldn’t be hard to convince her mother that they should call on Carissa. Just that morning her mother had been adamant that they needed to discuss the upcoming holidays.

  “I imagine supper is ready,” Laura said. She glanced toward the house and remembered something. “I wanted t
o ask you about your mother and father,” she said, disappointed that they needed to go inside. “Perhaps you could tell me about them after we eat?”

  “Perhaps,” Brandon replied. “But I was rather hoping you would play for me tonight. I’ve enjoyed those times when you’ve offered us entertainment.” He gave her arm a squeeze. “I find I enjoy very nearly anything, so long as you’re involved.”

  Laura found herself flushing from his sweet comments. Without meaning to be so bold, she looked into his face. “I feel exactly the same where you are concerned. I find myself content to merely sit in your presence.”

  “Don’t we sound like ever the boring old couple,” Brandon said with a laugh.

  “Comfortable,” she replied. “Not boring and certainly not old. We’re just comfortable with each other. That’s something I’ve not experienced with a man before. Most of the boys who tried to court me were awkward and annoying. They either talked of themselves or tried constantly to steal a kiss.”

  Brandon roared with laughter at this. “I’d thought of doing just that, but I suppose now I shall have to refrain. I wouldn’t want it said that I was awkward or annoying.”

  Laura felt her heart skip a beat. She would have loved nothing better than having Brandon steal a kiss. She tried to appear ever so casual as she entered the house. “I seriously doubt you are awkward at anything you set to do.” She paused to throw him a smile, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Brandon’s eyes seemed to burn in the glow of the window lamps. He leaned close and whispered. “One day . . . perhaps we shall put that thought to the test.”

  Laura trembled as he took hold of her hand and drew her fingertips inches from his lips. “Hopefully that day will come sooner . . . than later.”

  Laura might have fainted dead away had her father not appeared in the hall. “There you two are. I thought I might have to send someone for you. Brandon, I think you’ll be pleased with the fare tonight. We were lucky enough to be given a roast. Imagine that! It’s been so long since I’ve had a decent piece of beef that I am thrilled at the prospect. I don’t know when I’ve ever longed for anything quite so much.”

  Brandon looked at Laura and gave her a wink. “Neither do I.”

  17

  Laura and her mother tried to visit her sister the next day and several days following, but Malcolm always met them at the door, claiming she was indisposed. Then notes began to arrive in her sister’s handwriting, telling the family that she was suffering headaches or fatigue and that she didn’t wish to have any company.

  When this continued for nearly two weeks, Laura’s fears began to escalate. Her mother, too, was greatly concerned—enough so that she’d asked Laura’s father to seek out Malcolm at the flour mill to find out what was going on.

  “The entire situation is far too secretive,” Mother declared. “My son-in-law barely bids me good-day, then denies me the right to see our daughter.”

  Father had initially brushed aside her insistence. However, when Mother refused to let the matter drop, explaining that no one had seen anything of Carissa in half a month’s time, Father finally agreed. Laura felt a sense of relief and dread mingled as one. What if Malcolm refused to tell her father what the problem was? What if he refused to allow them to see Carissa at all?

  Stanley Marquardt arrived home around four thirty, and to Laura’s surprise, Brandon was at his side. She hurried to greet the men, giving her father a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Did you see Malcolm?”

  “No.” Her father looked to Brandon, who seemed just as disturbed.

  “What’s wrong?” Laura asked. She stepped closer to her father. “Mother had a headache and is resting, but you must tell me what’s going on.”

  Father met her worried gaze. “No one at the flour mill even knew Malcolm. He’s never held a position there.”

  Laura felt as if the air were suddenly sucked from the room. “What?” she gasped. “But where is he getting the money to support himself and Carissa?”

  “Most likely he’s gambling,” her father replied. “I’ve been told more than once that he has a weakness for cards.”

  Laura looked at Brandon. They’d both had suspicions of Malcolm’s underhanded dealings. His financial support was probably aided by those covert activities, as well.

  “I’m very worried, Father. I think we should make plans to go over to their house late in the evening. They would have to be there then.”

  Her father considered this for a moment. “I might be able to arrange that later. For now, however, we have three men joining us for supper. I’m hoping you can make the necessary arrangements since your mother is incapacitated.”

  “Of course,” Laura replied. “I’d be happy to.” She looked to Brandon. “And will you be staying, as well?”

  “Indeed. Two of the men are actually guests of mine in a way. I know one from the war.”

  Laura nodded. “I’m sure I will be happy to meet them both. When should we plan for supper, Father?”

  “I believe six o’clock will give our guests plenty of time, don’t you?” he asked Brandon.

  “That should be fine. Will said they were going to check in at the hotel and then ride over. I would imagine they will be here most any time.”

  Laura glanced at the grandfather clock. “I’ll speak to Cook right away.” She left the two men and hurried to the kitchen.

  The heavyset woman was humming as she stirred a pot at the stove. She glanced up and smiled when Laura entered the room.

  “Ya looks happy, Miss Laura. I’m guessin’ that Mr. Brandon be here.”

  Laura smiled. “He is and he’s staying for supper. There will be two other guests besides him. Father wanted me to let you know so you could have the table set accordingly.”

  The older woman nodded. “I’s gonna have us a mighty fine supper. Got dem cheesy grits Mr. Brandon like and a hot peach pie jes outta the oven. I fixed it jes hopin’ it would bring him along to the house. Be nice and cooled off by the time they be ready for it.” She paused for a moment and tapped her chin. “Believe I’ll open up some tomato preserves an’ slice up some of dat fresh rye bread Miz Clarence’s girl brung over.”

  The Clarence family lived at the bottom of the bluff and they were always sharing wonderful recipes or delicacies from the kitchen. Laura looked to the counter where a large fish was laid out, ready to go into the oven. “It all sounds wonderful. Father said we should eat around six.”

  Cook nodded. “I see to it, Miss Laura. You can rest assured. I gots Effie help’n me today.” Effie was Cook’s fourteen-year-old granddaughter.

  Laura started to go, then remembered her mother. “Could you please send Effie upstairs to see if Mother needs anything? I’d go myself, but I’m afraid she’d detain me.” She turned, but stopped again. “Oh, and please have Effie tell Mother that father has business associates attending dinner, as well.”

  “I send her a’right.” She headed for the back door and called out for her granddaughter.

  With that, Laura made her way back to her father and Brandon, who were greeting two newly arrived guests. She heard one of the men call Brandon Captain, and knew this must be his friend from the war.

  The men caught sight of her and paused in their conversation. Laura’s father motioned her to join them. “Gentlemen, this is my daughter Laura.”

  “Ma’am,” the two men said in unison, giving a slight bow.

  Laura smiled. “Gentlemen.”

  Brandon furthered the introductions. “This is William Barnett and his friend Tyler Atherton. Barnett and I met each other during the war.”

  “Well, any friend of Mr. Reid’s is certainly welcome here. Can I offer you gentlemen something to drink? Supper will be ready shortly, but I could have Cook prepare some coffee or tea.”

  “No, thank you,” William Barnett replied. “We don’t want to cause any inconvenience.”

  “It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Laura assured him.

  Barnett
shook his head. “We’re fine.”

  Laura looked to Mr. Atherton, who nodded in agreement. “Just fine, ma’am.”

  Brandon turned to Laura. “Will and Tyler have come from the Dallas area to purchase some breeding stock for their ranches up north. Your father has agreed to write them letters of introduction on my behalf since I’ve known Will for many years.”

  “In fact,” her father said, “I will see to that just now. Laura, why don’t you entertain our guests?” He smiled at the men. “My daughter is an accomplished pianist and singer.”

  “Indeed she is,” Brandon agreed.

  “I’m sure we would enjoy such entertainment,” Tyler Atherton said, smiling.

  Laura felt her cheeks flush a bit, but nevertheless led the way to the music room. She was disappointed that she couldn’t learn more from her father about Malcolm and Carissa. Hearing that Malcolm didn’t have a job at the flour mill meant Malcolm had lied to them—lied about a simple job. Carissa was certain he worked at the mill; how would she react when she learned the truth?

  More than ever, Laura felt the urgent need to see Carissa and know if she was well.

  Laura frowned and pulled out the piano bench. She picked up several pieces of sheet music and positioned them in a pleasing order. Brandon came to her side as the other men took their seats.

  “Shall I turn the pages for you?”

  She looked up and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Laura began to play a popular tune that had come out during the war. The men listened in appreciation, keeping time by tapping their feet. She picked up the pace a bit and thought the melody quite gay. So much better than the sad songs of war and lost love.

  After that she played several classical pieces that she’d long ago memorized, and by the time she was ready to return to the sheet music, her father had joined them. Seeing it was nearly six, Laura got to her feet. Just then Effie popped into the room and gave a deep curtsy.