"So what happened when you impersonated the Creole at the pen, were you successful?"
"Very much so. I claimed to be the Creole's representative and Edna was turned over to me almost at once. Burton and I dressed her in widow's weeds, placed her on a train, and sent her north to my aunt Racine in Detroit. She and Gail Grayson took over from there and arranged for Edna to live in Grayson's Grove, over near Niles."
"I'll bet the real procurer threw a fit when he showed up and found his property gone."
"I'm certain he did. Both Burton and I knew we would be wanted for slave stealing as a result, so he headed for Canada and I headed back to France. I received a letter from Edna a few months later thanking me and asking if I could help the son of one of her Grove neighbors escape from a place down near Nashville. I'd become fairly jaded living in France. I agreed to help mainly for the excitement."
"Really?"
"Yes. Slavery and the Black Codes placed restrictions on me as a man of color, but it never kept our segment of the race from founding our own schools, owning our own businesses, or from printing our own English and French newspapers. Most of the adults of my class were very adamant about the abolition of slavery, but like a good portion of the sons, I was more concerned with owning the most prized horseflesh, attending the balls, and pursuing beautiful women. Although my family had come to America as French slaves in the early seventeen hundreds, they'd been free for nearly three-quarters of a century by the time my mother gave me life. The block did not become a reality to me until I became involved with stealing slaves. As the years passed and I aided more and more fugitives, I witnessed the true abominations of slavery, the despair and the filth of the pens, the anguish in the eyes of one fugitive mother who'd had to leave her child behind. It changed me. I went from being a jaded rake who slept in fine featherbeds, to a slave stealer who spends eight months out of the year sleeping in cold barns and on the damp ground."
Hester turned to him and although they were seated in the moonlit dark, she had no problem seeing the serious set of his face. "Your work is very valued, Galen."
"I know, petite."
"Will you continue?"
"Until slavery dies the ignoble death it deserves."
Hester thought about all he'd said. He had a depth to him one would never suspect. His commitment more than surpassed his wealth. Galen Vachon and the Black Daniel were both good men. "I never knew how you came to be called the Black Daniel."
"The moniker was given to me by Edna Lee. In one of her early letters she likened me to the biblical Daniel and saw my lions' den as slavery."
"So you became the Black Daniel."
"I thought the name pretty dashing in the beginning."
"And now?"
"Now, it is simply how I am known. There is no swashbuckling glory in any of it, just fear and cold and fiercely determined men and women counting on me to lead them into freedom." He turned to her and said, "So you know."
Their faces were close enough for each of them to feel the other's heat. Galen reached up to stroke her soft cheek. "I told myself I would let you set the pace in this, but I lied. I want you tonight..."
He kissed her with all the passion and love he possessed, then picked her up and carried her to his bed. He removed her dress and underclothing with a wanton and slow expertise. Only after she'd been rendered breathless and made lusciously ready did Galen partake of the dessert he craved most.
The following morning, the dilemma over the child became moot. Hester's bleeding had begun sometime during the night. She admitted to herself how sad she felt that she was not carrying Galen's child.
Maxi brought in her breakfast and was concerned as to how unwell her new mistress looked. When Hester explained her state, Maxi took the situation in hand. She brought rags and a hot tea to ease the slight cramping.
Galen came in later after Maxi had Hester cozily ensconced in the big bed.
"Good morning, petite. Maxi says you're a bit ill."
Hester was embarrassed. Men weren't supposed to share this part of a woman's life. However, he wanted her to be his mistress as well as his wife, and although Hester had never met a mistress in the flesh, she had the distinct impression that they were far less constricted than traditional wives. A mistress would probably discuss matters such as this with her lover. "Good morning, Galen. It is my monthly."
"Ah."
Women's functions were well known to Galen, but it surprised, and pleased him that she would offer up the information. He had not expected such intimate frankness from La Petite Indigo.
She asked, "It is impolite for me to reveal such things to you?"
He came over and sat on the bed. She looked small in the large space, small and virginal in the light cotton, high-necked gown. He could see the slight discomfort playing across her face. "No, it is not. I need to be aware of what goes on with you."
"Maxi made me some tea. She says it will help, and it has. It's made me terribly woozy, however. I feel sort of the way I felt last year at the apple brandy competition."
"The apple brandy competition?"
"Yes. I was a judge."
Galen grinned. "What in the world were you doing judging brandy?"
"Bea refused to let any of the men do it because the previous year all the judges became drunk and began fighting over which brandy was the finest. The contest disintegrated into a terrible brawl. Took Sheriff Lawson quite some time to settle things down again. They never did declare a winner."
Galen picked up the tea and sniffed the contents. He was amused to smell tea as well as rum. Maxi had been born in the Caribbean and firmly believed rum, in the correct proportions and combined with the right herbs, could cure anything. He had to admit she'd kept him healthy most of his life with her concoctions. He doubted she'd given Hester more than a thimbleful, but it appeared to have been enough to make her slightly tipsy.
"There's rum in this tea. Did you know?"
"Yes, Maxi explained when she brought it in. That probably accounts for this wooziness."
Galen smiled. "You didn't finish the story about your brandy judging."
"Oh, there wasn't much more to it. Before the final evaluations could be done, I was removed."
Galen chuckled. "Why?"
"Bea said I was quite drunk. She said I was grinning like an idiot when they took me home. I didn't remember any of it, just the wretched sickness the morning after. I swore I'd never touch any type of spirits again. However, Maxi's tea has done the trick."
Galen couldn't be more pleased with having her as his wife. He would hate having to leave her. "I came up to tell you I'm going away for a while, maybe as long as a fortnight."
Hester raised up. "Why?"
"Road business. Raymond has met a woman in Amherstburg who had to leave her infant son behind when she came north last month. We're going down to Kentucky and try and steal him. You won't mind me leaving you here to fend for yourself, will you?"
"You know I will not. Go, with godspeed."
He leaned down and kissed her brow. "I'll return as soon as I can."
"When will you depart?"
"As soon as I finish saying goodbye to my wife."
Hester's smile brightened her eyes. "Then go. Time is of the essence. We'll simply have to spend a longer time saying hello when you return," she quipped softly.
Galen cocked his head at her questioningly as if trying to decode her words, then said, "Agreed."
Hester wanted to say something else before he departed. "My monthly means there is no babe."
Galen looked down into her serious face and said, "I know, petite. But as I told you before, it only means we'll have the pleasure of trying again."
He stroked her soft cheek in departure, then stood and walked to the door. He looked back. "If you need anything, go to Maxi."
"I will."
"Au revoir, Mrs. Vachon."
"Stay safe, Galen."
He bowed and was gone.
Several days later He
ster awakened still no more accustomed to her new status than she'd been the day they married. She still found it silly having someone setting out her clothing each day and bringing her meals. Her protests on the first day after Galen's leaving fell on Maxi's deaf ears. Maxi insisted that this was they way things would be, and that was that. The servant's stubborness rivaled her employer's, Hester thought at the time.
So, Hester gave in and let herself be pampered by Maxi and her solicitous staff. She wasn't any more comfortable with the idea of being catered to, but since they didn't seem to care about her views, she simply ceased voicing her objections.
However, Hester did put her foot down when it came to the choice of clothing each morning. She absolutely refused to wear the costly day dresses which filled her wardrobe, opting instead for lightweight, Egyptian cotton blouses and soft, full skirts. She thought the dresses far too expensive to warrant casual wear. When one of the maids explained that some of the women in Galen's set went through four and five changes of dress daily, Hester couldn't keep the astonishment from her face. She couldn't fathom such a thing. Hester let it be known then and there that she had no intentions of assuming such wasteful habits.
All in all, Hester's first few days as Mrs. Vachon went fairly well. Even though there had been a slight clashing of cultures, Hester found no fault with her new status or in the way she was treated.
On Sunday, Hester went to church accompanied by Andre Renaud. It was her first appearance outside the Folly since becoming Galen's wife. She'd almost opted not to attend the service rather than be subjected to all the talk and speculation, but she knew she'd have to face her neighbors eventually or the talk would never stop.
Her entrance did cause whispers, but Bea greeted her with a smile, as did Branton Hubble and many others. Hester took her seat next to Bea but Renaud stopped her by politely clearing his throat.
"This way please, Mrs. Vachon."
Hester shrugged in ignorance to Bea, then followed Renaud to the pews up front. He directed her to the very first pew, one Hester had never seen before.
Renaud explained in a quiet voice. "This is the family pew, Mrs. Vachon. Mr. Vachon had it installed last week. It once belonged to his mother."
Hester knew every eye in the church was directed her way but she could not keep the wonder from her face. Galen's mother?! The beautiful pew had been hewn from very dark wood and it appeared to be very old. The carvings on it reminded Hester of the wildflower workings on the chest of gowns she'd received from Galen, only these carvings were of angels and cherubs and crosses. The new Vachon family pew outshone every other piece of wood in the small church.
Hester sat down, stunned.
After the service, the Reverend Adams made a point of thanking Hester for her husband's generous donation to the building fund. Since Hester knew nothing about the donation, she simply smiled politely.
Hester left the reverend to visit with Bea and Branton, who stood talking in the churchyard. Afterwards, she and Renaud stepped up into the coach for the ride back to the Folly.
Inside, Hester asked, "How long have you been in Galen's employ?"
"Since I received my certificate from Oxford five years ago, but I've known him all my life."
Renaud was considerably younger than Galen and Raymond.
"You admire him greatly don't you?" Hester asked.
"He stole me out of a brothel when I was five, gave me a home, safety, and a first-class education. I don't admire the man, I owe him my life."
Back at the house, Hester changed out of her church clothes then went down to the kitchen, where she planned on forcing Maxi to let her help make the bread for the evening's dinner.
Since Maxi would not agree, Hester had to ask, "Am I not the mistress here?"
"Yes you are, chiquita, but, this is my domain."
"And as the mistress, can I do anything I desire?"
Maxi smiled. "Yes."
"Well, the mistress wants to make bread."
They studied each other silently for a moment.
Hester very nearly pleaded, "Maxi, I'm not accustomed to sitting on my bustle all day."
"Then find some way to occupy your time."
"How?"
"Civic works. Isn't there someone in need of all the money you now possess? Do you have a favorite cause you can assist?"
"Of course, there are many, but—"
"Then do something. Organize a fair. Your life has changed, chiquita, and being wealthy is far more joyous than being poor. I know, for I've been both."
"Well if I promise to organize a fair, will you let me make the bread, occasionally?"
"Today you may. In the future, we will see."
Hester graciously nodded her thanks.
After dinner as Hester sat in Galen's suite reading the latest installment of the Liberator, she eased the paper down and thought back on Maxi's suggestion. Maxi was right, there we're many ways she could help the Cause now that she'd become the wife of a wealthy man. The choices were endless, from benevolent societies to fugitive relief, to aiding parentless children. Hester had only to pick one. She wondered if Galen would approve. She didn't see him denying her the use of the grounds for a fair, and she doubted she would need much financial help because she would use her own funds to support most of her plans. She decided she would ask his opinion when he returned, if he ever did. She missed him terribly.
Chapter 18
Hester's plans for a fair were quickly set aside the next morning when Bea brought over terrible news. A band of Shoe's men had kidnapped Bea's neighbor, Samuel Creighton, and his son, Peter. There'd been no writ, and no hearing before Sheriff Lawson. The kidnappers simply overran the small farm in the middle of the night and took them away.
The Creightons had only recently moved to Whittaker after living the past three years in Canada. They'd fled there along with tens of thousands of other members of the race to escape the potential kidnapping made legal by the passage of the 1850 Fugitive Slave Law. From what little Hester knew of them, Mr. Creighton was a carpenter, his son Peter, only twelve.
"Was his wife Emma harmed?"
"She was beaten very badly, but not taken south."
Hester could well imagine Emma's fear for her husband and son and her heart ached for the woman. "Did anyone go after them?"
"Branton and a few others, but Shoe's men are at least four or five hours ahead. I doubt they'll be able to bring them back."
Bea had tears in her aging eyes as she raged, "This has to stop, we shouldn't have to live this way. No one is safe, Hester, no one."
She went over and placed her arms around the older woman. "We must stay strong, Bea. We must stay strong."
Later that evening, Hester, along with a large portion of the community, kept vigil at the church in hopes that Branton and his men would be successful. It was not to be. The men returned tired and disheartened. They'd been ambushed outside of Monroe by locals employed by the slave hunter Porter Greer, undoubtedly to slow their progress. In the ensuing gun battle, Branton Hubble had received a wound to the chest and hadn't survived.
Hester ran from the church, her heart screaming. She did not want it to be true. She stood out in the silent night, shaking, filled with grief. All Branton wanted was to be free. He spent his whole life pursuing freedom, only to be cut down by brigands already destined for hell. The tears ran freely down her cheeks. She stood there crying silently for what seemed an eternity. Renaud eventually found her, eased her to the coach, and took her home.
The community went into mourning. Women wore black, men wore black, and many of the businesses in Whittaker and Ypsilanti draped their storefronts with black wreaths. Branton Hubble had touched many people in the area and everyone grieved at his passing. The funeral scheduled for two days hence was planned by Hester and the women of her circle because Branton had no other family in the North.
The day before the funeral, Hester had Renaud escort her over to her old home so she could retrieve some platters nee
ded to hold food for the after-burial dinner. While she went on inside, Renaud and the driver took a slow walk around the grounds to make certain things were in order. Everything appeared fine except for the two male runaways hiding in the loft of the barn.
When Renaud came into the kitchen and related his find, Hester stared a moment, then quickly went to see.
Sure enough, there were two men in the loft. One of them asked, "Are you Hester Wyatt?"
She nodded. "And you are?"
"William Madison. This is my cousin, Claude St. Clair."
"How long have you been here?"
"Almost five days. A friend in Ann Arbor said you would help us."
Hester looked the men over. There had been cases of Blacks being in cahoots with slave hunters. They'd often times pass themselves off as fugitives in order to gain the confidence of the residents of the community. Hester didn't believe these men were out to dupe her; she had a strong sense that they were who they claimed. "I apologize for not being available when you arrived, but I've recently married and now reside elsewhere. Have you eaten?"
"Not for a few days."
They both looked tired, but they appeared healthy. The conversation was abruptly interrupted by the coach driver running into the barn. "Shoe and his devils are coming up the road."
Hester didn't waste a breath. "William, you and Claude back up under the bales. Quickly! Slave hunters!"
The men hustled to hide themselves once more. Hester and Renaud ran behind the barn and pretended to be observing the progress of the fruit that would soon appear on the apple trees in her father's wild orchard. When Shoe rode up, he tipped his hat. "Howdy, gal. Sorry to hear about Hubble. Guess he's learned his lesson about poking around in the business of his betters."