These Tangled Threads

by Tracie Peterson

  “Hear tell it’s been raining hard down that way,” she said. “Coach driver said he had trouble making it through. Not that far from Lowell to Litchfield, but we ain’t had a drop. You reckon it’s heading this way?”

  “I think the rain’s headed away from the area, so it’s not likely you’ll be getting much, if any,” he replied. “Is Mr. Arnold here?” he asked, hoping to curtail her conversation.

  “He’s become mighty popular all of a sudden,” she remarked. Turning away from the doorway, she beckoned toward the men. “Come on in. I’ll fetch him for you.”

  “We truly would enjoy the pleasure of surprising him, if you don’t mind,” John whispered, as though taking the woman into his deepest confidence. He put a coin in her palm and smiled broadly.

  She grinned in return. “I always did like surprises myself,” she said. “You go on up and knock—second door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” John replied while motioning Matthew and Taylor to follow him.

  Matthew rapped soundly, and the three men waited silently. The sound of shuffling feet approached on the other side of the door, followed by the squeak of the door as it opened to reveal an obviously stunned Thaddeus Arnold.

  “What are you doing here?” he gasped, his gaze darting about like a trapped animal seeking escape.

  “Let’s go in your room and talk,” Matthew suggested. “I’m sure you don’t want the other tenants or the boardinghouse owner hearing our conversation.”

  Thaddeus tentatively backed into the room, watching as Taylor closed the door and then firmly leaned his body against it.

  “You can sit here,” Thaddeus offered while looking at Taylor.

  “I prefer to stand,” Taylor replied.

  “You know why we’re here,” John said in a menacing tone. “Why don’t you just tell us where Thurston is and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Thurston? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do you think I know the whereabouts of William Thurston?”

  “Because you’ve been seen together,” John bluffed.

  “If someone’s made such an allegation, he’s mistaken. William Thurston’s a wealthy man of social standing; he wouldn’t keep company with someone like me. Anyway, I heard he left the country and lives in England.”

  “He does live in England. However, he’s currently in Massachusetts, and we’re certain you know where to find him. If you don’t cooperate with us, we’ll see to it that you’re arrested for aiding a criminal. And then there’s the matter of the funds you stole from your former wife.”

  “How do you know about Naomi?” he screeched.

  “At least you’re willing to admit you’ve wronged Mrs. Arnold. Now, why don’t you make a clean slate of matters, admit to your involvement with Thurston, and help us apprehend him. Otherwise, I plan to have Taylor go and fetch the authorities. I’m certain they’ll be willing to hold you in the local jail until we can return you to Lowell,” John threatened.

  Thaddeus slipped a finger between his thin neck and the starched collar. Beads of perspiration formed along his brow and then trickled downward, casting a sheen upon his pallid complexion. “I may be able to help you,” he ventured in a warbling voice.

  “Now, there’s a good fellow,” John amicably responded while giving Thaddeus an encouraging smile.

  His lips quivered, his uncertainty obvious. “I’m expecting William within the hour,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Really? Well, perhaps we should wait for him. Taylor, why don’t you see if there’s an out-of-the way spot to secure the horses, someplace where William won’t catch sight of them when he arr ives,” Matthew suggested. “While you’re taking care of the horses, I believe I’ll see about getting some assistance from the police. Do you think you can manage Mr. Arnold by yourself for a short time, John?”

  “I don’t think we’ll have any problems,” John replied evenly.

  Taylor opened the door and then glanced over his shoulder. “Any place you’d care to suggest for our horses, Mr. Arnold?”

  “There’s a lean-to out back,” he grumbled, watching Taylor and Matthew leave the room.

  Speculating Thaddeus would likely attempt an escape, John assumed a position in front of the door, folding his long arms across his chest.

  “If only I hadn’t changed the meeting time, William would be safe. I’m sure I’ll be blamed for this entire fiasco. Bad luck seems to follow me like a thundercloud,” he lamented.

  “Has it occurred to you that your difficulties are self-imposed, Mr. Arnold? If you behaved in a proper fashion, I doubt you’d find yourself surrounded by these intimidating difficulties.”

  “Save your sermon—it’s too late now.”

  “It’s never too late to turn your life around and receive forgiveness,” John replied with certainty.

  “Forgiveness? You think that’s possible?” Thaddeus asked, his eyes glimmering.

  “Of course. If you genuinely seek absolution, God will be faithful to His word and forgive you. However, Thad-deus, you mustn’t confuse the forgiveness of God with the forgiveness of man.”

  A scowl replaced his look of expectation. “In other words, I’m going to jail.”

  John nodded. “Most likely.”

  Thaddeus slumped down in the chair, his eyes filled with fiery anger. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m not asking God or anyone else to forgive me,” he snapped.

  “As I thought! You’re not seeking forgiveness; you’re looking to escape punishment,” John replied as the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Uncle John, I’ve a policeman here with me,” Taylor announced.

  John opened the door to permit them entry and remained silent as the policeman pulled Thaddeus to his feet. “Turn around,” he said.

  John and Taylor watched as the officer bound Thad-deus’s hands behind his back and then led him out of the room and down the stairway.

  “Matthew has gone to fetch more lawmen. He should be back directly. They’ll wait across the way until Thurston shows himself,” Taylor explained.

  Time weighed heavy as the men crouched alongside the boardinghouse, their anticipation rising each time they heard the sound of horses’ hooves drawing near. Nearly two hours had passed, and they had almost given up all hope of apprehending Thurston when Taylor announced that another rider was approaching in the distance.

  “It’s him!”

  They watched from their hiding place until Thurston began to dismount his horse, and at the policeman’s approach, they descended upon him. With an ease that surprised all of them, the elusive William Thurston was quickly under their control.

  “You!” Thurston spat in John’s direction. “I should have put a knife through your heart when I had the opportunity. Instead, I waited, giving the English gentry the right to make my decisions regarding your future.”

  John stared at Thurston in disbelief. “Your hatred of me is obvious, yet I’m at a loss to understand the root of your contempt. You successfully escaped punishment for the unspeakable crimes you committed in this country, and still you’re willing to place yourself in harm’s way in order to damage me. What unfathomable reasoning causes your reckless behavior?”

  Thurston emitted a chilling laugh. “This isn’t about you! This is about much more: This is about the Boston Associates. Without you, they will suffer irreparable damage. Without the knowledge you stole from England, their expansion will be thwarted. I’m certain you’re aware the English want you punished for treason. I promised to deliver you to them,” he snarled, his face twisted into a picture of demented torment. “You foiled my plans!” He lunged toward John as a gunshot reverberated from the woods nearby. John stared in alarm as he watched Thurs-ton’s body crumple forward and then drop to the ground.

  With eyes glazed and lips curled in a menacing contortion, a figure emerged, throwing aside his rifle and reaching for the ivory-handled pistol jutting from his waistband. He waved off Matthew an
d the police officers. “Put down your weapons and back away. I’ve no grievance with you.” He turned with a sarcastic smirk. “Do you remember me, Farnsworth?” he hollered, brandishing the weapon. “Bar-low Kent?”

  John nodded. “Of course I remember you, Mr. Kent. You worked at the mill in Lancashire. I’m surprised you’ve left England,” he said, attempting to maintain a calm demeanor.

  Barlow glared into John’s eyes. “To see you receive the punishment you so richly deserve, I would have sailed to the ends of the earth. You ruined my life, and now I’m going to end your time on this earth.”

  “I ruined your life? How can that be, Mr. Kent? We barely knew each other.”

  “You had me fired from my position. Do you recall telling my supervisor I should be terminated from my job at the mill in Lancashire?”

  “Yes. You were a poor employee who wouldn’t take instruction or give an honest day’s work for your pay. As I remember, you were given several opportunities to mend your ways, but your behavior never really improved,” John detailed precisely.

  Barlow appeared dazed, as if he’d not heard a word. “You caused the death of my wife—and unborn child,” he accused determinedly.

  “What? That’s a preposterous allegation. I didn’t even know your wife. How could I possibly be responsible for her death?”

  A spark of anger once again ignited in Barlow’s eyes as he gestured wildly with the gun. “My Nancy died in childbirth. We had no money to pay for a doctor because you had me discharged from my employment at the mill. Are you finally beginning to understand, Mr. Farnsworth?”

  John’s gaze remained fixed upon Barlow while Taylor moved with a quiet, determined step and positioned himself behind the crazed man. The officers and Matthew also inched closer.

  “You don’t claim any of the responsibility for losing your job?” John quietly inquired, hoping he could maintain Barlow’s attention. “Surely you don’t blame me for this tragic occurrence in your life. Such an idea is outrageous.”

  John’s words appeared to fan the embers of hatred burning deep inside his assailant, who now leveled the weapon directly at his heart.

  “You’re going to die,” Barlow seethed, his anger at fever pitch.

  The words had barely been spoken when Taylor and the others jumped forward. Taylor grasped the attacker’s arm, wrenching the gun from his hand. Following his lead, Matthew wrestled Barlow to the ground while the lawmen neatly took matters in hand and arrested the man.

  John bent down, placing one knee on the ground beside the collapsed body of William Thurston, and felt for a pulse. He looked first at Taylor and then turned his gaze toward Matthew. “William is dead. I guess Thaddeus finally got the better deal,” John said, shaking his head. “He may be in jail for a long time—but at least he’ll live to tell about it.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Canterbury, Connecticut

  Daughtie rapped on the front door of Miss Crandall’s School for Young Ladies of Color upon their arrival in Canterbury, Connecticut.

  “Good afternoon, my dear,” Miss Crandall greeted as she opened the door, her thin lips brightening into a welcoming smile.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Crandall. I was wondering if I might have a few words with you concerning a matter of grave importance. You may not remember me, but we’ve corresponded. I’m Daughtie Winfield of Lowell, Massachusetts.”

  “Ah, Miss Winfield. I didn’t recognize you, but it’s an unexpected pleasure to have you call. I was in the midst of a class, but if your visit requires my immediate attention, I can make arrangements,” she said, her gaze drifting toward Liam, who was still perched in the wagon. “You can have your driver take the wagon to the barn behind the house,” she offered.

  “There are four of us,” Daughtie whispered. “We have two runaways hidden in the back of the wagon.”

  Miss Crandall’s eyes widened slightly. “After you place the horses and wagon in the barn, the four of you can come in through the back door. I’ll be waiting there for you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Crandall,” Daughtie said, warmly clasping the older woman’s hands.

  “Don’t thank me yet. We need to talk.”

  Daughtie didn’t wait for further explanation. The fact that Miss Crandall had said the runaways could come into the school was affirmation enough. She ran to the wagon and hoisted herself up beside Liam. “We’re to park around back in the barn,” she instructed.

  “She said the girls could stay?” he asked.

  “She said we could all come in and talk. I didn’t go into detail.”

  Liam’s shoulders visibly slumped. “Do ya think she’ll be willin’ to keep them?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t asked,” she replied more abruptly than she had intended.

  “I’m not meanin’ to make you angry with my questions,” he said, his voice low and calm while he directed the horses into a space near the door of the barn.

  “I know, Liam,” she said hastily while turning on the seat and pulling back the covers that served to obscure the two girls from view. “Come on, girls.”

  The four of them moved quickly across the small open area between the house and barn, each walking with a hurried determination.

  “Is dis da place you was tellin’ us ’bout?” Nelly asked as they neared the back of the house.

  “Yes,” Daughtie replied simply as she ushered the girls through the door. “Miss Crandall, these are the girls I mentioned. This is Nelly. And this,” she said, pulling the other girl forward, “is Minerva, her sister.” Turning toward Liam, she gave him a bright smile. “This is my friend Liam Donohue. He’s been hiding the girls in Lowell.”

  “I’m pleased to meet all of you,” she said warmly, glancing among them. “Girls, I’d like to have you visit one of my classrooms while I visit with Miss Winfield and Mr. Donohue. Would that meet with your approval?”

  Nelly and Minerva glanced at each other, obviously surprised their approval was deemed of any importance. “Yessum,” they replied in unison.

  Once the girls were ensconced in another room, Miss Crandall returned and led Daughtie and Liam into the parlor. “Please make yourselves comfortable,” she said before taking a seat in one of the blue-and-beige upholstered chairs. “Now tell me, what brings you to my school?”

  Daughtie’s lips twitched in a nervous smile. “The girls. We need a safe place for them. They have no family to rely upon, and they can’t possibly make it to Canada on their own. We discussed waiting until another group of runaways arrived at Mr. Donohue’s house, but we had no idea when the next slaves might arrive, and we were afraid the girls might be discovered if we waited any longer,” she hastened to explain, the words tumbling over each other as she spoke.

  Miss Crandall’s thin lips tightened until they nearly disappeared. “You never said one word in your letters about aiding runaways. Did someone tell you I was harboring runaway slaves?”

  “No, not a soul. But your speech at the Pawtucket church addressed the evils of slavery, as did your letters to me—and, of course, you’re operating this school for Negro girls,” Daughtie replied. She stared at Miss Crandall, her hands folded and resting in her lap, a look of expectation etched upon her face.

  Miss Crandall stared back, her eyes narrowed. “So why would you bring these girls to me?” she asked warily.

  “Oh yes. Let me complete my explanation. I had been spending a great deal of time thinking and praying about this situation with the girls and how we might help them, knowing we soon must come to a decision. As I picked up my Bible to see if God’s Word might reveal an answer, your last letter to me dropped upon the floor. You’ll recall you had written that things here in Canterbury had grown more peaceful and that you were giving thought to the possibility of enrolling a few new students. Needless to say, your letter appeared to be an answer to prayer. The more I prayed, the more I believed the Lord was directing me to bring the girls here—to your school—a place where they would be safe and could receive an edu
cation among people they can trust.”

  Miss Crandall leaned back in her chair and gave Daughtie a kindly smile. “I believe you’re telling me the truth, Miss Winfield. And if I weren’t in such financial straits, I would consider admitting the girls. But I simply cannot manage to feed and clothe them. When all of this difficulty began, there were some parents who withdrew their daughters. Consequently, I had to begin charging higher fees. If the parents of my students discovered I was permitting these girls to stay here free of charge, I’d likely have further withdrawals from my enrollment, and I can ill afford to have that occur.”

  Liam shifted to the edge of the settee. “What if ya received full payment for the girls, Miss Crandall? Would ya have any objection to boardin’ them?”

  Prudence hesitated a moment. “If they paid for tuition and boarding fees, I would be delighted to have them remain, but since that’s impossible, I think we must devise some other plan.”

  “I’ll pay for them,” Liam modestly replied.

  “I mean no disrespect, Mr. Donohue, but I’m not sure you understand the financial commitment involved.”

  “I believe I can afford your charges, Miss Crandall. I’ll sign a note if ya like, but you’ll find my payments will be made as promised. I’ll be leavin’ funds with ya to purchase some clothes and any other necessaries they might be needin’.”

  Miss Crandall glanced toward Daughtie with a questioning look in her eyes. “If you’re absolutely certain you want to do this, then my answer is yes. But you must remember that if matters should begin to worsen with the townspeople, the school may be closed, and the girls will once again be placed in jeopardy.”

  “We understand, but they’ll be safe with you for now. If problems arise in the future, we’ll make other arrangements.”

  Prudence nodded. “Have you told the girls they’ll be staying here?”

  “We told them a little about the school. They seemed excited with the thought of receiving an education. I did explain that all the girls in your school are daughters of freemen, and they appeared astonished at the concept. However, I believe they’re a bit concerned by our decision to bring them to Connecticut. Liam explained this was the safest possible place for two young runaway girls right now. The men they were traveling with were recaptured, and we truly don’t believe we should send them off toward Canada by themselves,” Daughtie said.