Indigo

  Seeing his glee, Hester's anger rose, but she held her tongue.

  He turned his evil grin on Renaud and gave him a slow look over. "You one of them Creoles from that fancy house up on the point?"

  Renaud nodded faintly.

  "You got papers, boy?"

  Renaud replied blandly, "I don't need papers. I'm a French citizen. In France we don't pedigree and paper the populace as if they were horses or dogs."

  "You're pretty uppity."

  "Thank you," Renaud said with a bow. He then asked coolly, "Now, what business do you have here?"

  One of Shoe's riders spat. "Mighty uppity."

  Renaud inclined his head at the man.

  Shoe ignored them, continuing to hold Hester's stare. He said smoothly, "I just want her to know I've heard some real interesting things about her. Real interesting."

  Hester's eyes were cold. "Such as?"

  "You're free, but you wasn't born in the North."

  "No, I was not. Last I knew that was not against the law."

  "Maybe not, but then again, one never knows. I got somebody looking into it though."

  Renaud asked frostily, "Looking into what?"

  "Just how free that gal really is."

  Hester felt the hair rise up on her neck. Shoe leaned down and said, "I can always smell a runaway, and you stink to high heaven, missy."

  Hester didn't flinch. "Is there anything else?"

  "Nope. At least not now. Just remember me and the boys got our eyes on you."

  With a black-toothed grin and a mocking tip of his sweat-stained hat, Shoe wheeled his animal around, then he and his men rode off down the road.

  Hester let out her breath. "I say we move William and Claude now, while Shoe's moving in the opposite direction."

  "I agree. So much for his celebrated nose."

  Hester quipped, "The only way he could smell a fugitive would be if the fugitive handed him soap and water beforehand."

  While Claude and William made their way down from the loft, Hester questioned the coachman about the number of men in Shoe's party when he first spotted them coming up the road. She wanted to make certain Shoe had not left a scout amongst the trees to spy upon them. By the coachman's count he had not; Shoe had ridden up with six men and ridden away with the same number.

  Satisfied, Hester and Renaud hustled the barn's fugitives into the coach for the ride back to the Folly.

  She turned the two men over to Maxi who fed them, showed them where to wash up, and put them to bed. In the meantime she and Hester rounded up clothes they thought would fit. The fugitives slept until late evening, after which they sat with Hester and Andre to discuss where they wished to go next.

  "Canada," they said in unison. Both men had family and friends already in residence there. They'd escaped Tennessee with a forged pass saying they were needed in Chicago by their master, who'd suddenly become ill. The pass indicated the men were to escort the sick master back to his family in Nashville.

  William, the taller of the two, explained, "We wrote the pass ourselves. The part about Master Day being in Chicago is true. When he departed, so did we."

  Hester smiled at their cleverness.

  Claude added, "I'm certain the news that we've run will ruin his trip. He was counting on us to keep his tables going."

  Andre's face mirrored his confusion. "Tables?"

  "Master Day owns a bordello in Nashville. William and I run the faro tables. We also keep the books. When we walked away, we took a week's worth of take, purchased two train tickets, and left his business in the hands of his wastrel brother-in-law, whose passion for drink far outpaces his business sense. If Master Day isn't in the poor house by now, he will be very soon."

  Everyone laughed.

  That night as she lay in Galen's large bed, Hester mulled over how best to aid William and Claude in going to Canada. She knew many people would be attending tomorrow's funeral and decided it would be the perfect opportunity for the men to move on. She doubted Branton would mind if a few fugitives were added to his funeral procession; in fact she was certain he would be honored to help move freight this one last time.

  However, she'd no intentions of bringing anyone outside the house in on the plan. Shoe had frightened her this afternoon with his talk of looking into her past. He'd said someone had given him information on her and she hadn't an inkling as to who it might be. She wondered if this could be tied to Galen's mysterious traitor? As Galen had pointed out, the traitor could be anyone, so the fewer who knew of William and Claude's true identity, the safer the men would be.

  She thought about Shoe then and his ugly face resurfaced in her mind. He'd reeked of confidence today and that added to her wariness. How much did he actually know about her journey north? She hoped the fates would not be so unkind as to fling her back into the hated arms of slavery, not after all this time. She hoped...but in times like these she knew nothing was certain.

  The day of the funeral it poured rain. There were so many people the little church could not hold the crowd, so the Reverend Adams moved everything outside. The fugitives William and Claude were hidden amongst the mourners from a church group in Sarnia. Once the service ended and everyone made the silent walk to the cemetery, William and Claude would depart with the group.

  Throughout the solemn event, Andre Renaud held an umbrella above her head to keep her from being drenched, but it offered no protection from the grief and pain she felt inside. Branton Hubble had been a good, decent man. When she first came north, he'd been one of the many people who'd helped her with her lessons. She remembered with fondness how patient he'd always been with her. With his death the circle of those who'd helped her cross the bridge from slavery to freedom tightened, as did her heart. Burying Branton also brought back the memories of burying her aunt Katherine. Hester hoped now that the two, no longer bound by earthly ties, would find peace together.

  The walk to the cemetery was a tradition, and Hester had made the trek in the rains of spring, the heat of summer, and the blowing snow and cold of late fall. Never had she witnessed a downpour such as this one today, but not a soul complained. They'd come to pay last respects to a man whose life had been devoted to freedom; no one in the cortege would be so disrespectful as to grumble about mud-covered shoes or sodden clothing.

  They buried Branton with his Bible and a copy of Francis E. Watkins's famous poem, "Bury Me in a Free Land."

  As the bearers solemnly shoveled the dirt down onto the simple wooden casket, Hester, standing in the rain, surrounded by the crowd, read the poem aloud in a steady, clear voice.

  "Make me a grave where'er you will,

  In a lowly plain or lofty hill;

  Make it among earth's humble graves,

  But not in a land where men are slaves.

  I could not rest, if around my grave

  I heard the steps of a trembling slave;

  His shadow above my silent tomb

  Would make it a place of fearful gloom..."

  By the time Hester reached the eighth and final stanza, her voice was choked with tears.

  "I ask no monument, proud and high, To arrest the gaze of the passers by. All that my yearning spirit craves Is—Bury me not in a land of slaves!..."

  In the days that followed, Shoe and his kidnappers struck again and again, from Ypsilanti to Detroit to Monroe, where he teamed up with Porter Greer and his band of thugs. Alone they were menacing, together they invoked terror.

  All over the county people were afraid to leave their homes. Women hung quilts on their wash lines to signal fugitives that the area was unsafe. Men sat up at night, shotguns at the ready in case it became necessary to defend their homes and their families. Sheriff Lawson was doing his best to enforce the Michigan law that forbade forced kidnapping, but Shoe continued to elude Lawson's very undermanned posse. Hester had Renaud take her back over to the Wyatt house so she could transfer the small arsenal in her kitchen to Galen's stores. Hester still had an aversion to weapons, but she'd emp
loy one if it became necessary.

  As in the case of the Blackburns and the Creighton men, Shoe's kidnappings all involved lesser-known folks, people who were not connected in any way to the Road except for their fugitive status, people who stayed close to home and were rarely seen.

  "It's as if someone is sacrificing lambs to Shoe," Hester told Renaud and Abigail Grayson over breakfast that morning. Gail had returned from Niles last night. She'd been very distressed by all the terrible happenings. Shoe's treacherous activities had even overshadowed the surprising news of Hester's marriage to Galen Vachon.

  Gail agreed. "It is the oddest thing. Why would he concentrate on such helpless individuals?"

  "Because they are helpless and he's a coward," Renaud pointed out.

  Maxi interrupted them a moment to inform Hester that Foster Quint was here to see her. Puzzled, Hester excused herself from the table, then followed Maxi to the parlor.

  Hester walked in determined to be polite, but nothing more. He'd dragged her name through mud; surely he didn't expect her to be warm. "Have a seat, Foster. How may I help you?"

  He took a seat and smiled. "So formal, Hester. One would never believe we were to be wed."

  Hester waited.

  He appeared a bit uncomfortable with her manner but said, "I've come to ask you to sell me the Wyatt land."

  Hester searched his face. "The land's not for sale."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it isn't, Foster. That land will belong to any children Galen and I have."

  He chuckled bitterly. "Was it his money? Is that why you gave yourself to him?"

  "I believe you are here to discuss land, nothing more."

  "Yes, I'm here to discuss land. So how much?"

  "It isn't for sale."

  "Why not? My God Hester, you and Vachon already own this whole corner of the county. Why can't you part with a parcel of it?"

  "Foster, you held me up to ridicule from here to the Ohio border with your lies. Even if the Wyatt land were for sale, I'd give it away before I sold it to you."

  "You owe me," he remarked angrily.

  "For what, branding me a whore? I owe you nothing Foster, ever." She stood. "If there's nothing else I will send Maxi to escort you out. Good day."

  Hester paid no attention to his malevolent eyes as she made her exit from the room.

  She thought about Foster that evening as she lay in bed. How he had the audacity to believe she would sell him her ancestral lands after his slandering was beyond her comprehension. She put him out of her mind and went to sleep dreaming of her husband.

  In the seven days since the burial of Branton Hubble, it had poured seemingly nonstop. It was now mid-August and Hester had spent the day delivering copies of Mr. Garrison's Liberator. Bea was the area agent, but she'd gone over to Marshall to visit an old friend. Had Hester known the deliveries would have to be made in a deluge, she might not have agreed to be Bea's substitute, but the Liberator was still widely read. Folks all over the county were waiting for this latest edition despite the feud Garrison was having with most of the east's Black leaders over their confrontational approach to abolitionism.

  When Hester returned home later that evening, Maxi took one look at her drenched and shivering mistress and immediately called for a hot bath. Hester tried to protest, saying once she donned dry clothes all would be well, but Maxi simply rolled her eyes and hustled her upstairs. While the tub was readied, Hester stripped off her sodden clothing and put on the flannel robe Maxi set out. She tried not to let Maxi see her shivering but it proved impossible to mask.

  Maxi said, "Do you have any idea how Galeno will yell at me if he comes home to find his wife sick?"

  "Maxi, it isn't your fault I am soaked."

  "I know it isn't. You know it isn't, and he will know too, but he will still yell."

  So to keep Maxi and everyone else from the dragon's fire, Hester stepped into the warm water of the tub and sighed pleasurably as the heat took the cold chill from her flesh. She could certainly become spoiled by such care, she thought contentedly. She continued to be uncomfortable with the idea of servants, but luxuries such as a hot tub on a cold, rainy day were too wonderful to deny.

  She had no idea how long she'd been in the water, but when she heard a soft knock, she remembered Maxi promising to return with something hot for her to eat. Without opening her eyes, Hester called for her to enter. She was so lulled by the water she paid no attention to the footsteps or the sound of the door closing again so quietly. Her only thoughts were ones of thanks to Maxi for entering and not breaking her reverie.

  "Good evening, petite."

  The low voice made her eyes snap open. She spun her head and saw Galen smiling at her. He came further into the room and looked down on her with a heat-filled gaze. "You make a delicious homecoming present, Mrs. Vachon." Then he reached down and lightly teased one dark, puckered bud. "A delicious sight."

  He walked away and over to the fire Maxi had lit earlier in the evening. He was as dirty as Hester had ever seen him. His clothes and boots were covered with trail mud and soil. His beard had begun to grow in again, giving him the look of a buccaneer.

  He looked back over his shoulder at her and Hester's heart began to race. She sought to dampen the effect by saying, "I'll be done with your tub in moments."

  His sudden appearance had taken her totally by surprise and she wasn't certain what her reaction should be. On one hand she found the idea of playing the role of his wife-mistress terribly intriguing, but on the other she remained the staid, conventional Hester Wyatt who was a bit embarrassed to be caught nude in a tub by a man—even if the man was her husband.

  He answered by saying, "There is no rush. Take all the time you need. In fact, why don't I place your drying sheet closer to the fire so it will be warmed when you are done there?"

  He placed the towel on a chair near the fire. Hester had not an inkling of what to do. His back to her, he stood against the fireplace mantel and scanned the edition of the Liberator she'd been reading earlier in the week. She asked quietly, "Was the quest successful?"

  "Yes, we brought back the child, and took it on to Amherstburg straight away. Andre says Whittaker has been fairly lively in my absence. I am sorry to hear about Branton Hubble's death. I know how much he meant to you."

  She nodded her thanks and replied, "He was a good man. Too good to die at the hands of Porter Greer's thugs."

  "So, tell me all that has happened."

  Hester spent a few moments relating Shoe's recent reign of terror. She also related Shoe's boast of looking into her past.

  Galen's manner went cold. "I hope he knows I will shoot him like a rabid dog should he even think to harm you."

  "Galen—"

  "I swear on my mother's saints that I will personally send him to hell."

  His direct speech made her almost wish she had not been so forthcoming about Shoe's interest in her past. Beneath the cultured veneer lurked the deadly fire of the dragon, a man Hester was less familiar with, but a man she knew would give his life to keep her safe.

  She waited to see if the anger at Shoe would subside. She assumed it had when he said, "That water has to be cooling, petite. Come out before you shrivel away."

  The water had indeed cooled to the point where if she stayed much longer she would begin shivering again.

  Galen coaxed in a soft voice, "Wouldn't you enjoy being wrapped in this warm sheet?"

  To Hester it did look inviting, almost as inviting as Galen. So, she stood.

  He came over, gently wrapped her within the warmed folds of the sheet, and she could do nothing but purr as he picked her up and carried her to the rug by the fire. "I'm too dirty to sit on the furniture. Maxi will have me for breakfast, so let's sit here."

  He eased her to her feet, then took a seat on the rug. He tugged her down onto his lap, then folded her in against his dirty chest.

  She whispered, "I'm going to need another bath because of you, my filthy husband."

/>   "That was a given, Indigo."

  Hester's eyes widened as heat flushed her face. "So incorrigible."

  "I'm still waiting for this long hello I was promised."

  Hester smiled shyly. He was impossible to resist, even if he did smell like a goat. "You stink, do you know that?"

  He grinned. "Raymond said the same thing, but he smells no better."

  "Then I suppose I should be thankful both of you didn't come in and say hello."

  He pinched her on the rear and she squealed with a giggle. He looked down at her with a playful sternness and commanded, "Disrespectful female, I want my hello, now!"

  Grinning, Hester leaned up intending to place a quick kiss on his lips, but the moment her mouth touched his, she was lost. All the longing she felt for him the last few days flowed over her heart and out of her soul and lit a fire that had long been cold. Her arms went around him in the same moment that he pulled her close. They both shared their hellos until they were panting with passion.

  When he broke the seal of their lips, his eyes were glittering with a need that reflected her own. "I think I should have a bath prepared. Care to join me?"

  She smiled saucily and whispered, "Yes."

  His eyebrow raised at her willingness.

  She quipped, "Is that not what a mistress would say?"

  The brow rose once more. "I think this is going to be a most memorable homecoming."

  She agreed. "I believe you may be right."

  The servants brought up food and readied the tub for the dragon's bath while she and Galen ate dinner outside on the veranda's table. The rain had stopped sometime during the evening. The heat of August had returned, leaving the night air warm and damp.

  "It is good to have you home," she said to him.

  "It is good to be back. I missed you greatly."

  "I missed you, too," she admitted. The house and her life had seemed emptier, less joyous without him near. She'd needed his arms to salve her grief over Branton's dying, but at the time she'd buried the selfish desire because her needs were secondary to the child he'd gone to steal away. During his absence there were many times when she would have liked to share a thought with him, or ask his opinion on some matter. They had not been man and wife for very long at all, but he'd always been willing to listen and very easy to converse with almost since the beginning of their relationship, though those first few days in her basement last October proved him to be stubborn, rude, and so filled with faults she found it hard to believe he was the same man.