“Yes,” David said. “Half a pound of coffee.” If funds were as low at the Martin home as he suspected, the ladies probably hadn’t enjoyed the wartime delicacy in a while.
The man nodded and set about filling the order. Elizabeth moved to the large barrels lining the wall, giving the stores of oatmeal, beans and flour a good look. As she did, David glanced about the shop. He could hear a bit of shuffling coming from the back room. He wondered if it was the children. Elizabeth then caught his eye. She must have been thinking the same.
He had tucked away his journal, but her satchel was still on her arm. David hoped that she would not say or do anything to alert the merchant as to their true identity. I should have said something to her before we came inside. He was certain posing as sweethearts would garner more information with much less suspicion than a reporter and a sketch artist could.
The shopkeeper laid the small sack of coffee beans on the counter and asked if there would be anything else.
David looked to Elizabeth. “What would you care for, dear?”
She blushed but was quick to realize the purpose for his ruse. Her eyes fell upon the glass jars on the shelf above the counter. They were filled with candy and other items. “Some peppermint drops would be nice.”
He allowed himself a smile. So she’s noticed my penchant for them. “Wicked good,” he said and turned back to the merchant. “A small sack, please.”
The man squinted, surely wondering why David was supposedly proclaiming the candy both evil and wonderful in the same breath. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he said.
David realized the mistake he had made. Wallace had picked up on his accent and use of Northern phrases. He couldn’t risk being pegged as a Boston abolitionist, so he tried to smooth things over. “No. I’m from the north originally—but I like it here.” It was the truth, after all. He liked his job. He liked being near Elizabeth. If the merchant chose to believe he enjoyed living in a slave state, as well, then so be it.
Wallace took down the jar of peppermints. Upon closer inspection David could tell there wasn’t enough candy there to fill his order. He waited to see what would happen next. Sadly he wasn’t surprised.
“Boy!” the man barked. “Get out here with more peppermint drops!”
Elizabeth again came up alongside him. She stood quietly by as the older child emerged with a small box of candy. The shopkeeper angrily snatched it from him.
“Next time I tell ya to fill the shelves, you do it! You’ve kept this gentleman waiting!”
The slave child hung his head.
“Go on,” the merchant then commanded. “Finish the stock in the back—but mind you, you ain’t gettin’ any supper.”
David inwardly winced as the child scurried off. Elizabeth had watched the scene unfold with a stone-faced expression. He hoped he’d done the same. Though he wished to tell the man what he truly thought, David held his tongue. I may need to return here for further investigation. I mustn’t burn my bridges by alienating the man.
“Don’t know why I bother with him or that brother of his,” the merchant mumbled.
Yes, you do. Cheap labor. “They give you trouble often?” David asked.
Wallace rolled his eyes. “You know how they all are. They ain’t worth their salt.”
David’s mouth soured, but he played on. “How do you keep them in tow?”
“Hunger is usually a powerful motivation,” the man said with a laugh.
David did his best to laugh as well, but the sound turned his stomach. “And when it isn’t?” he asked.
Wallace simply grinned, as if mistreating a human being was a form of pleasure. David’s anger burned, but he maintained his guise. “Well, you might not have to suffer with them much longer, if the abolitionists have their way with the upcoming vote,” David commented.
“There’s ways around that.”
Just what do you have in mind? “Really? How so?”
The merchant’s raised eyebrow told David it was time to back off. “What do I owe you?” he then asked.
Wallace gave him a price. David counted out the money and handed it over while Elizabeth played her role exceptionally. She acted as if she was much more interested in the peppermint drops and coffee than anything else.
David hoped he’d done half as well. He desperately wanted to know more. He wondered just how Wallace would handle turning loose his “property” if the vote to end slavery carried. If the Maryland legislature followed the example of the District of Columbia prior to the Emancipation Proclamation, the merchant would be compensated monetarily for the children’s release. Considering the fact that the sum was bound to be low and given what Wallace had said earlier, David doubted the money would be enough to compel the man to follow the new rule of law.
I wouldn’t put it past him to sell his slaves secretly to someone in a territory where Emancipation does not apply. David’s jaw tightened as he thought about all the other slaves in Maryland facing the same possibility.
Their business now complete, at least as far as the present was concerned, he and Elizabeth stepped outside. As soon as they turned the corner on to Charles Street and were a safe distance from the dry goods store, she spoke.
“I saw shackles.”
He stopped, looked at her. “You saw what?”
“Shackles.” She was visibly upset, and her voice was quivering. “When I was standing by the oatmeal barrel I could see inside the back room. I saw two sets of shackles, just the size for two little boys.”
His stomach rolled. “Are you sure of it?”
She nodded with certainty. “I have seen such things before.”
No doubt she has, being a citizen of this state. “So that’s how Marylanders keep their slaves in line. They starve them, then they bind them.” David didn’t know what he felt more, disgust or desperation.
Elizabeth said nothing else.
As they walked on, he thought again about his plans to visit her friends. If Sam and Julia were involved with the local abolitionist societies, then it was possible they were also involved with the Underground Railroad. David knew they’d never admit to it if they were, especially not to a reporter, but he wanted to make certain they understood the danger these boys were facing. David wasn’t usually a man to condone breaking the law, but Elijah and Elisha needed to be rescued, the sooner, the better.
Chapter Seven
After seeing Elizabeth safely to her house, David walked a few blocks north of her neighborhood to the home of Sam and Julia Ward. When he knocked on the door, the man welcomed him inside.
“David, how nice to see you. Do come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Elizabeth suggested I pay you a visit.”
“Oh? It was nice to see her back in church.” He invited David into the parlor. A stack of books littered the settee. Sam quickly moved them to a nearby table, then offered him a place to sit. “I apologize,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Julia has taken our daughter Rachael over to visit Sally for the afternoon. I had seized the opportunity to read.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Not at all.” He claimed a chair across from him. “What can I do for you?”
David explained that he was here on matters of business, both official and unofficial. He told Sam about the series of articles he was writing, the material he was looking for. “It is important that I show all sides of the slave issue,” he said.
Sam was more than eager to assist. “I know of plenty of people you could interview—former slaves who would be willing to tell their stories, ex–bounty hunters. I also know of one man who has just recently had a run-in with the more radical element. He’s a guard at the slave pen. He was severely beaten.”
David cringed. Despite the man’s despicable occupation, he didn’t
wish for anyone to be treated so mercilessly. “I’d like to learn more of this man’s story. It certainly shows the violence that slavery can provoke on both sides.”
“Indeed,” Sam said.
David took down his name, as well as the others that were mentioned. Sam even offered to set up the interviews. “Thank you,” David said. “That would be most helpful.”
“You’re quite welcome. I’m happy to do anything I can to help stress the importance of ending the slave industry.” Sam paused. “I assume that is the official business.”
“Yes.”
To make certain the man knew his unofficial business was strictly off the record, David put away his journal. Sam looked most interested to know where this conversation was headed, so David got right to the point.
“I am concerned about two slave children,” he said. “They are brothers. They are held by the dry goods merchant on Light Street. I believe you know them.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Elijah and Elisha?”
David nodded. “Just so you know, I am doing a story about them, centering on the hardships slave children face. They, however, will not be named, and specifics about them and their particular master will not be given.”
“Good.”
“Elizabeth tells me you and your wife have made attempts at their redemption.”
“We have, but Wallace won’t hear of it.”
David knew he must tread carefully. One didn’t go about openly asking questions concerning the Underground Railroad, not if he wanted to actually learn anything. “With you being a member of the abolitionist society, you are probably aware of activities that sometimes take place when redemption attempts have failed.”
Sam said nothing, but the look on his face told David he knew exactly to what he was referring. David hurried to explain. “I say this not because I am investigating any such activities but because I am deeply concerned for Elijah and Elisha.”
“I, too, am concerned,” Sam admitted. “That’s why I’m eager to see this vote take place. If a new state constitution is drafted—”
“That’s just it. Even if the people of Maryland vote to end slavery, more than likely the process of actually changing the law will drag on for months. There is no telling at this point what provisions a new constitution will make, especially for children. Many of the more moderate politicians favor apprenticeship.”
Sam clearly understood that matter, and he shook his head sadly. “The slave owners would keep control of them until they come of age. Supposedly they would be required to teach the children to read and write, but I have my doubts.”
“As do I. We could also be looking at compensation, then release,” David said, but he explained his concerns that Wallace may not be satisfied with the sum promised him.
“I don’t want to see those boys sold off secretly to a place where the Emancipation Proclamation is not being enforced,” Sam said.
David nodded. He thought once more of the shackles, the lack of food. He asked Sam if he was aware of such things. The man confirmed Elizabeth’s testimony, adding that he’d seen the bruises on Elijah’s and Elisha’s wrists firsthand.
After that, neither of them said anything for a few moments. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon them both. By now David suspected the man did indeed have connections to the Underground Railroad, but he did not address the possibility directly. Obviously, at least up until now, Sam thought it best to deal with the children’s release in a strictly legal manner.
David understood completely. Just the notion of advocating an illegal act went against everything he’d ever been taught. An honorable man, a soldier, a Christian followed the law. He did not break it.
And if the law is unjust, he seeks to change it.
That was what he was striving to do with his articles, what Sam Ward wanted, as well. But something must be done quickly. Elijah and Elisha’s very lives are at stake. And knowing what I do of Sam Ward, he isn’t going to beat the dry goods merchant to a pulp while rescuing those children.
“I say all this to stress the urgency of the situation,” David explained. “I would not place trust in the constitutional process alone. If the vote passes, Wallace may take matters into his own hands while he still has the opportunity. If there is anyone who may be able to help expedite the boys’ freedom, I believe now is the time. And,” he then added, going out on a limb perhaps, “if I can be of assistance in any way, please, do not hesitate to ask.”
Sam still said nothing, but David was certain he had made his point. He stood and shook the man’s hand. “I am most grateful for the official information you have given me,” David said. “I will do my very best to make readers aware of the magnitude of the upcoming vote.”
“God be with you,” Sam said.
“And with you.” With that, David took leave.
* * *
The sunlight which had previously flooded the library floor had given way to the long shadows of late afternoon. Elizabeth was so sickened by what she had witnessed at the dry goods store that the only way she had managed to complete her sketch of Elijah and Elisha was by offering up each movement of her pencil as a wordless prayer for their well-being. She hoped God would hear it.
The thought that He’d listen to a prayer of David’s seemed much more likely. In him Elijah and Elisha had an advocate. He’d known from the beginning how cruel slave masters could be.
She wondered what would happen if she told him everything. Sins could be forgiven, yes, but they weren’t easily forgotten, at least from the human perspective. Would he understand? Would he say we all make mistakes? The important thing is learning from them?
She thought of how many times he had said that to her when they worked together in the hospital. Elizabeth had often had trouble with medical procedures. Her fingers fumbled, and at times the sight of blood made her nauseous. More than once David had to come alongside her to assist her in some task. Yet never once did he lose his patience with me, nor did I feel condemned. Perhaps it would be the same now. Perhaps he would understand.
Sighing, she picked up her charcoal stick. The foreground of her picture needed just a bit more shading. She had just gotten the drawing to her liking when David walked in. A pleasant expression filled his face.
“Still hard at work?” he asked.
“I’ve just finished.”
“Well done, partner.”
Partner. She liked the sound of that. “How was your visit?” she asked.
The smile faded from his face. “Productive, yet disturbing. Sam confirmed what you saw.”
When he told her of the markings on the boys’ wrists, her heart sank more deeply in her chest. “I hoped I had been wrong about that,” she said. “I hoped there was some other explanation.”
“What other explanation could there be?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer that. She held her breath as David gave her sketch a good once-over. His smile returned.
“This is beautiful,” he said. “Absolutely beautiful.”
She exhaled. “You really think so?”
“Indeed I do. After having heard the boys’ conversation firsthand, I was going to focus on their fear of disappointing their master and the consequences thereof. You captured that without even knowing.” He pointed to the drawing. “Look here. See the sense of hurry? There is hunger on their faces, but it’s clear they know there will be terrible consequences for slowing even for a moment to receive kindness from a charitable soul. I can’t, of course, tell the details of the church bread table. If I did, I would give away their identity.”
“But,” Elizabeth said, guessing where he was going, “if you are careful you can still convey their hardships while protecting their anonymity.”
“Yes.” He pointed again to her sketch. “I like what you did here with adding the
extra storefronts. No one will recognize this as Monument Square. It could be anywhere in Baltimore.”
“Thank you. It seemed like a good idea.”
“It was a capital idea.”
Even with his compliment, her uncertainty lingered. “David, what if your editor doesn’t approve?”
“Of the story?”
“Of the sketch.”
His voice was firm yet gentle. “Elizabeth, I wouldn’t worry. But should either of us run into difficulty, let us agree to take Peter’s suggestions under advisement and try again.”
Try again. How many times had he said that to her at the hospital?
“Thomas Nast had better watch out,” he then said. “You’ll soon have his job.”
Elizabeth blushed at the reference to the famous Harper’s Weekly artist. He was one of her favorites. In fact she kept two of his sketches, Christmas Eve 1862 and Emancipation, tucked inside her sketchbook. “I should think I have quite a way to go before I rival Mr. Nast.”
“Not as long as you think. You’ve done well. Oh—you’ve forgotten to sign your name.”
My name, she thought. My sketch. After reaching for her pencil, Elizabeth hesitated.
She knew from her experiences at the hospital that not all men were as charitable toward women working outside the home as David had been. He was convinced her drawing would benefit his article, encourage sympathy for the children. She wanted to help him, but fearing the name Elizabeth could be a hindrance to them both, she decided upon her initials. The moment she scrawled them, she heard him chuckle. The laugh was not as vivacious as his brother’s, but it was pleasant nonetheless.
“You and I think quite alike,” he said.
“How is that?”
“E. J. Martin is exactly what I would have written if I were you. Sometimes it’s wise to keep information close to the vest until you are certain how it will be received.”
Well said, she thought. Though thoughts of full disclosure still plagued her mind, Elizabeth kept silent. Trudy appeared in the doorway just then, announcing it was time for supper.
Second Chance Love Page 10
