Hester simply shook her head. The revelation did not surprise her. "I'm old enough to hear the truth, Mr. Renaud. Please, don't be embarrassed. I doubt your employer considers me one of his women."
If Renaud had an opinion he kept it to himself. "If you won't be needing us any further, we'll leave you, Miss Wyatt."
Hester thanked both men, then watched as they drove away.
She spent close to an hour opening crates and conducting an inventory. When she was done, she found she had enough food to feed an army of runaways. There were the hams Renaud remarked upon earlier, along with smoked salmon, dried beef, and smoked turkeys. She found rashes of bacon, flour, cheeses, lard, salt. One box held only spices, many of which Hester had never seen before, and another was filled with candles. There were jars of put-up vegetables and jams. She even found a cache of oranges, of all things. She'd only had an orange once in her life. She found the whole exercise so overwhelming, she had no idea where to begin culling what she wanted to keep. Were Galen here she would have boxed his ears for such extravagance. She picked up one of the oranges, and, unable to resist, broke the skin and extracted one of the juice-filled sections. She ate it slowly, savoring the sweet coldness. She decided maybe she would keep a few of the oranges after all.
By evening she'd put away most of the items and decided that the rest could wait until morning. As she turned to douse the parlor's lights, she spied one thing she didn't remember Renaud or his helper carry into the house. It was a large wooden chest. She snaked her way through the crates, pushed aside the ones on either side of the chest, then knelt beside it. Hester thought it looked as if it had been in someone's family for quite some time. Its gleaming dark wood showed off years of polishing. The front panel on the outside was beautifully carved all over with garlands of flowers. The workings were delicately exquisite. Hester was curious about the contents and so opened the hinged top slowly. Inside she found nightgowns, dozens of them in a variety of styles and lengths. Some were made of the finest Egyptian cotton and others appeared to have been fashioned from only a handful of silk. There were also some so daringly sheer, she could see right through them. They were all beautiful, even though none would keep her warm on a Michigan night. She smiled at this gift, because she remembered Galen's comments about her ugly, serviceable gowns. Should he ever see her in these, she'd willingly bet he'd whistle a different tune. The idea of wearing them for his eyes alone was as thrilling as it was inappropriate.
With a sigh, she closed the chest and headed upstairs, forcing herself to think of Foster, hoping he would return soon. Without his presence she doubted her ability to brook Galen's pull on her imagination.
Chapter 9
The warmth of early April signaled winter's eventual demise, but everyone knew spring wouldn't come to stay for good until later in the month. For now, the folks around Whittaker had to contend with thawing roads, ankle-deep with mud, and weather so changeable it sometimes went from rain to sunshine to blowing snow all within a day's span. There'd been no word of the slave catcher Shoe and his men all winter. Rumor had it he'd been shot in a fight with members of a Toledo-area Vigilance Committee, and had fled south to lick his wounds. Hester didn't care why Shoe had gone south, only that he was gone. With one less menace hanging over their heads, the conductors on Hester's section of the Road began transporting their freedom-seeking passengers once again.
Hester hid a group of fugitives in her cellar for three days during the first week of April. She fed them well from Galen's storehouse of goods, then drove them into Ann Arbor hidden in the false bottom of her wagon. The going was muddy and therefore slow, but she reached the next station without mishap.
Most of the conductors on Hester's line were women, even though some men, like William Lovejoy, disapproved. The circle of female conductors took root during her grandmother's day. The daughters and granddaughters of these founding families continued to do their part.
Hester pulled back on the reins and halted the mule and the wagon in the back of the house owned by her good friend Abigail Grayson. Hester stepped down into the slushy mud. Shivering beneath her well-worn cape, she slogged her way around to the back of the wagon. She took a moment to glance around the countryside to determine if Abigail's house was being watched. When she saw no one, she undid the false bottom and helped her passengers out. Abigail met them at the back door and quickly ushered everyone inside. She and Hester shared a brief welcoming hug, then Abigail took the others into the kitchen for some hot soup and something warm to drink. Only after seeing that all the fugitives' needs had been met did Abigail invite Hester into the parlor for talk and tea.
Abigail eased herself into a soft chair then set her cane beside her. She had walked with the aid of a cane for as long as Hester had known her, close to ten years now. Gail was a full decade older than Hester but it had not stopped them from being fast friends.
Hester savored the warmth of the cup in her hand and asked, "How's Jake faring in Niles?" Jake was Abigail's ten-year-old son, and the apple of her eye.
Abigail smiled. "He's hunting and fishing with my brother, Absalom, and his son, Nate. They're having a grand time. It's certain he won't want to come home any time soon. Absalom keeps asking if Jake can stay for the rest of the year."
Abigail's brother resided in a small town outside of Niles, Michigan, a place known as Grayson's Grove. According to Gail, as Abigail preferred to be addressed, the Grayson family owned the grove and everything in it.
"Are you going to let him stay?" Hester asked.
Gail shrugged. "I'm leaning towards it. I'll miss him greatly but Jake needs to be around men. He's growing up."
Hester had never been told the story regarding Jake's father, only that there'd been some type of scandal many years ago.
Hester turned the conversation to the runaways in the kitchen. Gail had already made arrangements for them to go on to the next station that night as the five people had decided to exercise their dearly earned freedom on Canadian soil.
The conductors who'd carry them on to the next station were a married couple named Martha and Reginald Travis and they knocked on Abigail's back door just past midnight. They were Quakers and had been conductors for as long as Hester had been alive.
Hester and Abigail waited outside in the cold night air while the passengers fitted themselves beneath the mound of hay filling the bed of the Travis wagon. The hay would serve as cover for their passage and more importantly keep them warm on the long trek to Detroit.
When the wagon rolled away, Hester and Abigail quickly ran back into the house.
"Hester, are there any houses for sale in Whittaker?" Gail asked as she showed Hester into Jake's bedroom.
Hester had decided to spend the night rather than brave the cold, lonely trip back home. She set her worn valise on Jake's bed and opened it to remove her night clothes. "Not that I'm aware of. Why, are you thinking to move?"
"I am. This house has become cloying. It contains too many terrible memories."
"You can always come and stay with me for a while if you'd like," Hester said. "I've more than enough room."
"It wouldn't be a bother?"
"Oh, Gail, no. I'd love to have you."
"Maybe I'll take you up on the offer. Lord knows I don't wish to reside within these walls any longer. Did Katherine ever tell you the story of Jake's father?"
Hester shook her head. "I was too young, I suppose."
"Well, you're old enough now, and if I'm to stay with you, you should at least know the sordid details." Gail offered a bittersweet smile, then added, "We'll talk in the morning. Right now, we both need to get some sleep."
Over breakfast the next morning, Gail told Hester of the betrayals and falsehoods which undermined Gail's short marriage to Roland Grinell.
"He was a bigamist?!" Hester asked.
"Yes, there were at least two other wives. The one in Kalamazoo had borne him three children. He also had a wife in Windsor."
According to
Gail, Grinell married her to grab her share of the Grayson lands. He assumed the land would be put under his control once he became her husband, as was customary. Evidently he'd run the scam successfully on spinsters and widows many times before. He'd marry, gain control of whatever properties or funds the women possessed, sell the assets, pocket the profits, and disappear. But the terms of the Grayson will forbade any sale or transfer of the land without the approval of any other living Grayson family members.
Gail's twin brother, Absalom, refused to give his permission.
"Why?"
"Absalom took an instant dislike to Roland. The day Roland Grinell first rode into the grove, supposedly seeking information on a recently escaped family member, Absalom said he smelled like trouble. Unfortunately, I had a less acute sense of smell than my dear brother. I smelled only his Bay Rum cologne." She added, "However, he stank like week-old fish by the time he vanished."
"How was he exposed?"
"Absalom hired a man to check on Roland's past. The wife in Kalamazoo was posing as a hairdresser. Absalom's man said she preyed on lonely old men and widowers in much the same way as her husband. The pair were wanted by authorities in Michigan, Ohio, and southern Ontario."
She paused a moment and her eyes became distant.
"You have to remember, I thought I loved him very much. When he came courting, I'd never had a suitor before. He was handsome, well educated. He brought me flowers and candy. He described all the exotic places we'd visit after we married. I was overwhelmed by it all, and defied my family to marry him. When my brother confronted me with the information about his trail of misdeeds, I refused to believe any of it. I was convinced Absalom didn't want to see me happy, so I took the train to Kalamazoo to confront this woman myself. I just knew she was lying about being married to Roland and I planned on proving it. I went to her house, and when I told her who I was she laughed and said, 'So you're my husband's little country pigeon. Welcome to the big city, Miss Grayson Grove.' Then she slammed the door in my face."
Hester was speechless.
"When I returned to Detroit, he was already packing to leave. Absalom had just departed and had threatened to have him jailed if he did not leave town. Roland swore he'd done nothing to deserve such treatment, and that if I truly loved him, Jake and I would leave, too. When I told him who I'd visited while in Kalamazoo, and that the jig was up, he flew into a rage. He said yes, he was married to another. Then he began to taunt me. He told me my land had been the only reason he'd stooped to marry a woman as ugly as me. Told me I'd never find a man to love me without my land as a bribe.
"He cursed my brother and cursed me. He became so enraged, he began striking me. Hester, I am six feet tall in my stocking feet, I was raised around men, and I can pretty much handle anything that comes my way, but I have never had a man raise his hand against me in violence. When he struck me we were at the top of the stairs. The blow was so unexpected and so filled with anger it knocked me backwards. I remember losing my balance and falling. When I came to, I was lying at the bottom of the stairs. One of my neighbors, Mrs. Neal, was kneeling beside me and holding my squalling Jake in her arms. He was still an infant at that time and he must have been bawling for some time because she said his constant crying made her fear something had happened to me, so she came over to take a look."
"Where was your husband? Surely he didn't simply leave you lying there after what he'd done."
"Oh, but he did. Mrs. Neal lived directly across the road. She said she saw him leave long before she heard Jake's crying begin."
Hester was appalled by the man's behavior. "And all this happened here, in this house? Is that why you need the cane?"
"Yes. The doctors said I'd walk with a cane for the rest of my life because of the damage done to my hip in the fall. After Roland left, I had all the rooms repainted, changed all the furniture, and told myself I would not let those memories win. I loved this house when we first moved here, hell, I loved him back then, but I fought the good fight almost ten years by staying here. I'm ready to move on."
They spent the next hour or so discussing the logistics of Gail's move to Whittaker. It would be nearly a month before Gail could make the move, but Hester told her she'd be welcome whenever the time came.
Hester thought about Gail's story as she drove the wagon back to Whittaker later that day. In Hester's mind, it was just one more tragic example of the painful side of love. Marrying Foster for companionship seemed to be a much better choice.
Like a god send, she heard from Foster the very next day. Branton Hubble dropped off the letter he'd picked up for her in town and Hester hastily broke the seal. According to the date on the top of the missive it had been posted in England nearly three months ago. She knew how long the mail took at times but her eyes widened when she saw the date of his expected arrival in Detroit. "That's tomorrow!" she said aloud. He would certainly expect to be met at the train in Ann Arbor. She could hardly wait to see him again, but she did not relish another slow trek through the mud-filled roads.
The trip was even worse than Hester could have imagined. The previous night's torrential rains turned the roads into slush. The thick liquid concoction of rain, mud, and melting snow sloshed high up on the wheels as they rolled, intermittently splattering Hester as she guided the reins of the mule. The mule didn't appear to enjoy the slop anymore than Hester. The animal stopped time and time again, refusing to take another step. After much yelling and pleading she finally made it to the depot, but mentally threatened to sell the mule at her first opportunity.
Hester spotted Foster over by the pile of luggage stacked trackside. She took a moment to observe him. The slightly balding Foster with his plain brown face and short rounded figure would never be considered handsome, but he was dependable and true. She didn't need to be in love to pledge her life to him.
He must have sensed her presence because he looked up and upon seeing her in the crowd, he smiled widely and hurried to her side. He squeezed her hands affectionately, then greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek. She found herself comparing his welcome to Galen's sultry kisses before burying the unfair thoughts. Foster would never be the lover Galen was, but she didn't care.
"Welcome back. How was the passage?"
"Tedious. The purser refused cabins to all the Blacks on board. We were forced to either sleep in the hold or stay on the deck. However, something wonderful happened as a result."
Still holding her hands he looked her in the face and smiled. "Hester, I've taken a wife."
Hester's eyes widened.
"Her name is Jenine, and Hester she is the most beautiful and gracious creature I've ever had the opportunity to meet."
He paused a moment to chuckle, "She's not smart like you. I'll never be able to debate anything of substance with her, but I don't care—"
Hester could not believe her ears. "Foster—"
"Hester, I know you and I were to be wed, but I'm in love. For the first time in my life I've been impaled by Cupid's arrow and I am not ashamed to admit it."
Hester wondered if he had contracted a mind fever. Foster in love?! Foster waxing over being impaled by Cupid's arrow?! If she weren't so stunned she might be able to see the humor in this, however right now, all she could see was a Foster she admittedly had never met. The Foster she knew had never pursued anything other than the serious sides of life. He debated the issues of the day, read the Liberator, and taught school. What had happened to him?
Foster said, "I know I should have wired you, but my mind's been so muddled since meeting Jenine, I sometimes have trouble deciding whether I'm coming or going. She's like sunshine, Hester, pure sunshine."
She wanted to ask him where that description left her but she held her tongue. It wasn't as if she and Foster had been in love; their marriage would have been built upon mutual respect and admiration. That said, why did she feel angry? Because she had been replaced by a woman who fit the description of sunshine, she told herself.
Foste
r's voice brought her back to the matter at hand. "I want very much for you and Jenine to be friends, Hester. She can be very shy."
"Where is Jenine now?"
"Right over here. Come and meet her."
Hester had no desire to meet anyone but she told herself that no matter how she felt personally, Foster was still a good friend and she should be happy for him.
Jenine was seated on one of the benches. She was fashionably dressed and greeted their approach with a sunny little smile. She was indeed as beautiful as described. In a sweet little voice she asked, "Is this your friend Hester?"
Foster beamed under her loving looks. "Jenine Quint, this is indeed Hester Wyatt. Hester, Jenine."
Hester nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Jenine. Welcome."
She sighed, "Oh, thank you. I just knew you'd hate me for taking Foster from you. Fostie kept telling me not to worry, that you wouldn't mind, but I did worry."
Hester kept the smile pasted on her face as she turned to Fostie. He had the decency to duck away from her pointed look. Hester tried to reassure the new bride. "There is no need to worry. Foster is correct."
"I'm so relieved to hear you say so. I've been dreading this moment since he told me about you. He thinks the world of you. Did you know?"
Not enough to wire me and prepare me for this humiliating event, she thought to herself. Aloud she said, "Foster and I hold each other in high esteem. I'm sure your marriage won't alter my opinion of him."
Jenine looked to Foster and said, "She's as understanding as you said she'd be."
"I told you. Hester is the most practical person I know."
In the past, Hester would have taken Foster's assessment as a compliment; today she did not.
She pulled her emotions together and said cheerily, "I came to the depot to give Foster a lift home. Do you still require one, or are you heading elsewhere?"
Foster seemed unable to tear his eyes away from Jenine's lovely face. "A lift would be in order, Hester, thank you. Come, Jenine, help me fetch our trunks, and we'll let Hester drive us over to Whittaker."