Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana

by Melanie Dobson

  He shook his head. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  Brown. Gray. Green.

  Anna unhooked the moss-colored dress, stared at it, and then hung it back on the peg. It was ridiculous, really. She rarely thought about the color of her clothes. All she had were four choices to wear, and she wouldn’t wear the copper-colored dress because that was her finest attire. She didn’t want to appear as if she were dressing up tonight in case Esther’s brother was joining them for dinner. But she wanted to look nice.

  She collapsed back on her bed. She was hopeless.

  After their discussion at the hotel, Daniel wouldn’t be interested in her no matter what color she wore. And it was good that he was angry with her. If he felt the same spark she did when she was near him, he may want to court her, and that would be a disaster. The entire Meeting, if not the whole town, would wonder why an outspoken abolitionist was courting Edwin Brent’s daughter.

  Anna finally selected the brown dress even though she’d been told by a few worldly friends that the green looked better on her. Vanity was a sin, and she refused to succumb to it in the hopes of attracting a man like Daniel.

  She shook her head. She had to stop wondering if Daniel Stanton had some sort of interest in her. He didn’t. Wouldn’t. He was focused on his work, and she should be focused on hers.

  She finished dressing quickly and rushed downstairs to the kitchen to help Charlotte. Two runaways had arrived last night after Matthew left, a teenaged boy and his nine-year-old brother. The older boy hadn’t talked much since he’d walked through the door, and his brother hadn’t spoken at all, though the pain in his brown eyes was heartbreaking. She didn’t want to imagine what those young eyes had seen.

  Charlotte scooped another serving of chicken stew into their bowls, and Anna sliced more bread for them. The older boy muttered a thank-you when she put the bread on his plate, but the younger one didn’t acknowledge her.

  Last night, Anna had told Charlotte and her father that she thought Matthew suspected them, but the realization made them even more afraid to move these brothers. If Matthew had alerted a hunter, it would mean that someone was watching the house. And they were all hoping that whoever was watching would follow Anna and her father into town tonight when they went to dinner.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Anna asked Charlotte, hoping the woman would insist she needed Anna at home.

  “You and your father never go visiting anymore.”

  “That’s because...” Anna glanced at the two boys cramming stew and bread into their mouths like it was their last meal. She pulled Charlotte to the side of the room. “What if someone comes looking?”

  “They won’t find them.”

  “But you’ll be by yourself.”

  “I’ve faced a lot worse, Anna.”

  Anna nodded. Charlotte didn’t like to talk about her days in slavery, but even when she hinted at them, Anna cringed.

  She ran her hands across the brick wall. She may want to stay home tonight, but she couldn’t do it. She hadn’t told Charlotte or her father, but she was hoping to talk Joseph into visiting Peter...or at least into giving her advice on how to help him heal. Joseph was a kindhearted man. How could he resist caring for a child who might die without medical assistance, even if his mother had been a slave? Anna had sought the Light, and she was certain Joseph was the one to help Peter. It was just a matter of trying to convince him without Esther or anyone else hearing.

  “I’ll take them up to the attic right after you leave,” Charlotte said.

  Edwin opened the door at the top of the steps. “The buggy’s ready for us.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “There’s no reason for you to be afraid for us.” When her father walked away, Charlotte leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Or be afraid of Esther’s brother.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Greta answered Edwin and Anna’s knock, and when the Brents stepped into the Cooleys’ home, the hallway glowed from the lights of a candelabrum. Esther didn’t wait for them to be formally announced by her housemaid. Bobbling into the hall, she took one of Anna’s hands and squeezed it. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Me, too,” Anna replied.

  Esther glanced down at the papers in Anna’s hand. “Are those your poems?”

  “A few of them.”

  Esther took the papers from her. “I will read every one.”

  “Please wait until after I leave....”

  Esther placed them on the cherry sideboard and declared, “I like you, Anna Brent.”

  She glanced toward the silent parlor, and her disappointment surprised her. She couldn’t blame Daniel for avoiding her, but she thought Esther might convince him to come to dinner. Or maybe Esther hadn’t bothered to invite him, afraid he would disrupt their dinner with discussion about slavery.

  Joseph stomped into the hallway from a back room and took off his coat.

  “You barely made it,” Esther said.

  He hung his coat before he shook Edwin’s hand and then Anna’s. “I’m sorry I’m late. Last-minute house call.”

  “There’s no reason to apologize,” Edwin said. “Many things are more important than dinner guests.”

  “Not so many.” Esther sniffed before she took Edwin’s arm and escorted him toward the parlor. “I wanted to talk to you about making a special blanket for my baby.”

  Joseph directed her toward the dining room, but before they entered the room, he stopped and turned toward her. “Have you been well, Anna?”

  She paused. “Very well.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he replied. “The season for pneumonia and croup is upon us.”

  She paused, grateful for the open door. “Have you had many patients with croup?”

  “A dozen or so this season. A baby just north of here died of it last week.”

  She rubbed her arms to stop her sudden shiver. If Peter died, she would be responsible.

  “How exactly do you cure croup?” she asked, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt.

  “Keeping the patient in warm water helps, along with garlic wraps around the throat, but lobelia is the only thing that will stop a bad case of it.”

  Finally, an answer. “Where do you get lobelia?”

  “Most physicians have it, though I’ve just run out of mine since I’ve been treating so many children. Should have more by the first of the week.”

  Anna’s heart sank. She didn’t know if Peter could wait that long.

  A slight movement in the dining room distracted her, and Anna glanced over Joseph’s shoulder. There was Daniel Stanton at the table, turning the page of the latest Independent Weekly. She caught her breath.

  Daniel looked up at her, his eyes wary. “You thinking about going into medicine?”

  Joseph laughed and ushered her into the room. “You’ve met my fine brother-in-law, haven’t you?”

  A muscle twitched in her face. “I have.”

  Joseph gave her a quick wink. “You’ll have to excuse his bad manners. He worked all night finishing his paper, so we’re pretending that his exhaustion is the reason he’s in a foul mood.”

  “I’ll just ignore him.”

  “Very good.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as she and Joseph waited for him to respond, but instead of talking, Daniel focused again on the paper in his hands. Remembering Charlotte’s words, she refused to be afraid of this man.

  “What are you reading?” she asked.

  “A columnist by the name of Adam Frye.” His eyes didn’t leave the type. “You’ve probably never heard of him.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “I do know how to read.”

  “This article is about a slave girl trying to get her child away from a master who wants to kill him.”

  “Now, Daniel,” Joseph said. “You don’t insult a lady just because she doesn’t agree with you on social issues.”

  “She doesn’t agree with me. You
don’t agree with me.” He lifted his hands in frustration. “No one seems to comprehend that slavery isn’t an economic or social issue. It’s a moral one.”

  Anna raised one eyebrow. She was very familiar with those words. “That’s a bold statement.”

  “Those are words of Adam Frye’s.” He finally closed the paper and thumped his hand on it. “He’s a writer with a soul.”

  Joseph pulled back a seat for Anna, and she sat down beside Daniel. “Only God can see into a man or woman’s soul.”

  “When God looks deep into your soul, Anna Brent, what does He see?”

  She sat up straight and glanced around for Joseph, but he had slipped out of the room.

  No one had asked her about her soul before, and it didn’t seem right to have that type of discussion with a man she hardly knew. A man she wanted to be honest with but couldn’t risk divulging her heart to.

  He was watching her closely, waiting for a response. How was she supposed to answer that question?

  “God doesn’t have to search my soul,” she replied quietly. “I hide nothing from Him.”

  He leaned back in his chair and continued to watch her as if he might be able to read what she was thinking. “You were there when I debated Milton Kent at the courthouse.”

  “I was.”

  “Were you there when Enoch Gardner was questioned about whether he wanted to be a slave?”

  She nodded slowly. “I heard him.”

  “Why do you think he lied when I asked him if he wanted to get out of slavery?”

  “What else could he say, Daniel?” His name slipped off her tongue. “You backed him into a corner.”

  “So you condone lying?”

  She cocked her head. “You like to ask a lot of questions, but I don’t think you are so fond of giving answers.”

  His mouth dropped, and then he clamped it shut. She counted to twenty before he opened it again. “No one listens to my answers.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should stop giving them.”

  He smiled slightly. “Are you avoiding my question, Anna Brent?”

  Esther and her father entered the room, Esther explaining how she wanted lavender and pink flowers on the blanket like daffodils blooming in the sun.

  Daniel leaned so close to her that she could feel the heat from his skin. How was she supposed to continue this ruse when he wouldn’t leave her alone?

  “Should we continue this discussion later?” he whispered.

  She scooted away from him. “I don’t think so.”

  For the next hour, Anna and Edwin indulged in roasted turkey and cherry toast while tiptoeing around the topic of slavery with their hosts. The only time it was mentioned was when Anna asked about Simon and Daniel said the man was still hunting for Marie’s child. Joseph joked that a five-hundred-dollar reward would buy him the buggy and new horses he’d been eyeing, but not even Esther laughed.

  Whether or not it was meant to be a joke, Anna knew the moment he mentioned the reward that she couldn’t ask him about tending to Peter.

  When the night finished, Anna tied her cape and reached for her poems on the sideboard. If she had known that Daniel was an avid reader of the Independent Weekly, she never would have brought them.

  Esther smacked her hand away from the papers before she even touched them. “Those are for me to read later.”

  She tried to smile. “I don’t think they’re ready for public reading after all.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Esther laughed. “I know I’ll love them.”

  Esther’s laugh froze on her lips and then faded so fast that the men stopped and looked at her. Joseph reached for her arm. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, though she didn’t speak for a moment. When she finally talked again, she told them she was fine.

  Joseph pointed her toward the parlor. “You need to rest, Esther.”

  Before she stepped toward the door, she reached for Anna’s papers. “Please let me read them.”

  Anna looked back at Daniel by the steps, but he was watching his sister. It wasn’t like he would look at them anyway. He only read writers who had a soul.

  As she climbed up into the buggy, Anna scolded herself. She had kept her word. She had brought her poems to Esther. But she never should have left them with her.

  Even if Esther didn’t read the abolitionist papers, Daniel did. And some of her writings in the Independent stemmed from her poetry.

  He will never read them, Anna told herself over and over as Samara trotted toward their home. And even if for some odd reason he decided to read her prose, he would never equate her with his esteemed Adam Frye.

  A small part of her relished the fact that he read her work—and liked it. She wished she could tell him the truth, but the only person she needed to concern herself with pleasing was God. It didn’t matter what men, including a man like Daniel Stanton, thought of her.

  Her father interrupted her thoughts. “You’re just like your mother.”

  She smiled in the darkness. There was no one else she’d rather be like than the woman she had adored. She wanted nothing more than to carry on her legacy. “You mean I’m handsome and headstrong?”

  Edwin chuckled, and it was nice to hear her father laugh. It was a rarity these days to even see him smile. “I mean you’d give up your very life to care for other people just like she used to do.”

  Ahead of them was the covered bridge, and Samara’s hooves clicked over the wooden planks when they entered. She glanced out the windows of the bridge, but it was too dark to see the water below. “So would you, Father. That’s what God has called us both to do.”

  “Yes, He has,” he said. “And I’m an honored man to have a daughter who serves Him.”

  Whatever else he had to say, he was taking his time. “But...?” she prodded him.

  He sighed. “As a father, He has also called me to protect and care for you.”

  She reached for his arm. “You’ve spent your entire life caring for me.”

  He hesitated as they exited the bridge with a bump. The branches beside the buggy danced in the wind, and she pulled the woolen blanket closer to her.

  “I loved your mother the first time I saw her in Meeting.”

  She liked remembering her mother’s gentle words and strong heart, but her father rarely talked about her. Why did he suddenly feel compelled to speak about her now?

  “She never seemed to question God’s purpose for her life. She never even questioned Him when it was time for her to leave this life behind.” She could feel the hurt in his tone. Surely he had questioned why God took his wife home so early, but he had never shared his doubts about God’s will with her.

  “She loved you as much as you loved her.”

  He nodded slowly. “She would want me to protect you, Anna.”

  “You do care for me, Father. Very much.”

  The wind sprayed water off the creek beside them, and it sprinkled over their legs. “Lydia would want you to marry a Quaker man who would care for you, as well.”

  “Father—”

  He turned the buggy away from the water and up the path toward their home. “Daniel Stanton is fond of you, you know.”

  “No, I don’t....”

  “I like him, Anna. He would take care of you long after I’m gone.”

  She faced her father. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  And if he did, she could care for herself.

  “You pretend to ignore him.” He laughed. “He pretends to ignore you.”

  “He’s not interested in me.”

  “You can try to scare him off all you want, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who frightens easily.”

  Anna heard the neighing of a horse ahead. “Father?”

  The path up to their house was too treacherous for Samara to run, but her father stopped talking about Daniel and pushed the mare as fast as she could move. When they crested the hill, Anna jumped out of the buggy.

  A horse was tied to the
hitching post by the porch with chains dangling over its flanks. Their front door was wide open and swinging in the breeze.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Charlotte!” Anna yelled as she ran through the front door. Two chairs in the parlor lay toppled, and glass shards covered the floor. Her father grabbed her arm and put his finger over his lips, his eyes showing the fear that must be in her eyes as well. He quickly picked up an overturned chair in the parlor and retrieved the flintlock above the fireplace.

  Moving in front of her, with the gun in his hands, he whispered, “We’re going to move slowly.”

  She nodded with confidence, but her arms trembled as they crept up the staircase.

  They found Charlotte in the back bedchamber, Simon the slave hunter behind her. He was holding a knife to her back, and Charlotte’s eyes grew even wider when she saw them, seemingly more frightened than grateful that they’d arrived home.

  Simon snorted when he saw the gun in Edwin’s hands. “You’re a Quaker,” he said like it was a curse.

  Edwin lifted the gun. “Let her go.”

  The man’s laugh sounded nervous this time. “You ain’t gonna shoot me, ’specially not over some colored woman.”

  When Edwin cocked the gun, Simon shoved Charlotte, and she collapsed on the floor. “I coulda got a pretty penny for her down in Louisville, but she ain’t the one I come for anyway.”

  Anna reached for Charlotte’s arm and helped her friend stand.

  Edwin lowered the gun a few inches. “You need a warrant to be in our house.”

  “Funny thing about that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper. “The judge issued me one this mornin’. I’ve got just as much a right to be here as you do.”

  Anna glanced at the paper before throwing it on the floor. The law was on his side. “What are you looking for?”

  “A slave baby, Miss Brent. Worth five hundred bucks if I get him back to Tennessee alive. Two-fifty if he’s dead.”

  Maybe God, in His mercy, would let Peter slip away to heaven tonight. Being with his mama would be much better than being in the hands of this man. Or in the hands of Noah Owens’s wife.