He took the slate and reached for her hand. “You’d better stay in the secret room until we come back.”
“No, I can’t sit here, waiting and worrying. I’m coming with you.”
“Willow—“
“Most of my life, the Browns have shielded me from everything. Maybe if they had not tried so hard to protect me, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to be free. I cannot wait in the background anymore. Whatever happens, I need to be right there, beside you and helping. You said that in your time I’d have countless freedoms. Let me experience the same. Here and now.”
Arguments rose to his mouth. He fought against voicing his concerns. She had every right to be there when everything went down. Taking that from her would make him almost as bad as those wanting to enslave her.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
“Hang ’em high!”
The cries for death rang loudly in Thor’s ears. Bile lodged to his throat. He swallowed it down. His grip on Willow’s elbow tightened as he guided them around the outskirts of the crowd. They left their horses behind the dry goods store. Using the buildings as cover, their footsteps took them quickly toward the jail. With each step, Thor questioned Willow’s presence. If the community was already yelling for Anders and Brown’s death, he shuddered to think what they’d do to Willow.
“Hey!”
A hand clamped around his shoulders. Fist clenched, Thor whipped around, ready to fight. Tension filled him. His resemblance to Anders would be obvious. He should have thought of that, too.
“It’s me. The blacksmith, remember?” Hammond released Thor and acknowledged Willow with a quick look. “Follow me.”
“Where?” Thor asked.
“Over yonder. I got something to show you.”
“What is it?”
Hammond’s eyes glittered with fortitude. “Help.”
* * *
“Hang ’em! Hang ’em high!”
The chants seeped inside the jailhouse, floating through the building straight to the single cell where Anders and the reverend waited for their sentencing. The acrid scent of death hung low in the air, suffocating with its heavy weight. Anders’s stomach clenched. If they intended to execute them, he wished they’d get on with it. The suspense was driving him mad.
He hurled himself from the cot and rushed toward the bars that separated the cell from Sheriff Gibson’s outer office. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the iron dividers. “What’s taking so long?”
“What’s your hurry?” Brown asked from behind him.
“I’ll see about clearing them out and quieting them down,” the sheriff said. He lifted the rifle from across his desk and stomped toward the door. Calling over his shoulder, he added, “When a crowd’s riled up like that, there’s usually no stopping ’em.”
Before the door slammed shut, Anders caught a glimpse of the swarm of people surrounding the building. The sight disturbed him. Bloodthirsty faces glared back. Their cries rocked the slight wooden structure and pounded angrily in his head. He turned away. Defeat draped over him like a thick, constricting blanket. The iron bars supported his back as he sank to the floor.
A loud sigh carried across the cell. Anders glanced at Brown. The older man rose from his reclining position on the second cot and sat on its edge. His green eyes hinted at regret.
“I bet you wished you never joined me.”
Anders’s mouth tightened. The thought crossed his mind several times. If Davis and his gang had their way and Anders died from the end of a rope, then his Eva and little Dorothea would be without a provider. His greatest fear would be realized. He promised Eva’s family he’d provide for her, but he couldn’t do that from a grave. Anders grunted.
Hell, yeah, I wish I hadn’t come.
“Truth be told, I wish you weren’t here,” Brown said. “I could have handled Grady Falls on my own and brought Willow and Big Nat back safe and sound. You may not believe me, but I never thought it would end this way. For me maybe, but definitely not for you. If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Anders’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a little late for apologies.”
The reverend’s mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “I suppose it is.”
“You think they’ll wait for the justice to show up? In the two years I’ve been here, I never heard Canton as rowdy as this.”
Brown rose and moved toward Anders. His fingers tapped a strange beat on the bars. “That’s not Canton. The slaver has his folks out there to liven things up. If the sheriff hadn’t come up to us on the trail and brought us all back here, Davis would have strung us up by now. He’s determined to get his way.”
Anders snorted. “Looks like he won’t be disappointed.”
“Things have a way of changing. Don’t be convinced of doom and destruction. Have faith.”
“I have faith, but there comes a time when a man knows that all the praying in the world can’t change the inevitable.”
* * *
Awestruck, Willow stared at the small group of Brown’s followers, congregating inside the blacksmith’s barn. Nervous energy crackled the air. Urgency drove her further into the crowd. Thor walked beside her. His hand at her back provided a constant source of comfort, but the raised voices and thunderous expressions threatened to counteract that.
All present had attended Brown’s meetings either faithfully or on occasion. She never questioned their loyalty. Few dared risk communicating with a known abolitionist unless the cause meant something to them.
These men’s hearts were in the right place. None present wanted to see the reverend and Anders die. It was quite a sight and definitely tolled on the ears to listen to the abolitionists unite so vocally. She was pleased to finally bear witness.
Simon Edwards stepped forward. Normally, he was quiet, working with Brown and the other abolitionists behind the scene. He was only a few inches taller than Willow, and his balding scalp contradicted his youth, being that he was only twenty-five years of age. His desire to speak surprised her.
“My cousin is coming—”
“We can’t wait that long!” The shout came from Tom Milton, a middle-aged farmer with a fearless disposition. “We have to act now.”
“There ain’t enough of us to take on all of them,” Simon said in his own defense. “Besides, they have rifles.”
“Here’s mine!” Jacob Blakely, another farmer five years Simon’s senior, raised his firearm in the air. “Hammond’s got one, and Tom could rustle up another one.”
“Sure could!” Tom agreed. “No more pussy-footin’ around. That slaver aims to lynch our Reverend Brown, and I ain’t about to stand for it.”
“The Good Book says ‘thou shall not kill’—”
“Ain’t nobody arguin’ about the Bible, Simon,” Jacob said. “We’re talkin’ ’bout the reverend and seeing that he gets out of here alive. Anders’s wife just had a baby. Are you planning to take care of them if Anders gets kilt today?”
Anguish tore through Willow. Her footsteps faltered. Thor’s arm slipped around her waist. He pulled her close, forcing her to lean on him.
“None of this is your fault,” he whispered against her ear. “We’ll get them out of this.”
She longed to tell him she believed, but the words wouldn’t come. The crowd noticed them, and the moment was lost.
“He’s got a plan,” Hammond announced. He grabbed the slate from Thor and raised it above their heads. “Take a look at this.”
The men closed in around them.
“How is this supposed to work?” Jacob asked. “What’s all them x’s and o’s about?”
“The letters represent the different teams. Um, I mean the groups. Us versus them,” Thor answered. Taking Willow’s hand, he pushed through the crowd until he stood beside Hammond. He pointed to the slate and the objects he referred to. “Look at it like this.
They
represent the o’s, and
we’re
the x’s.”
Willow paid close attention, but his nearness made it difficult. His fingers stroked hers at odd moments, and she wondered if he did it on purpose to distract her with desire. If so, it worked.
Tom Milton shouted a question that made bells ring between her ears. The sudden call interrupted her wandering thoughts and drew her back to Thor’s drawing.
“That’s a good question,” Thor replied. “Each man will have two of Davis’s men to contend with.”
“But they’re armed,” Simon said. “Some of us don’t have rifles and such.”
“And some of us
do
!” Jacob said. “I’m ready for ’em. An eye for an eye!”
“Yeah!” The crowd joined in with their approval.
Hammond waved his hands in the air. “Keep it down. They don’t know we’re meetin’ like this.”
“Hammond’s right,” Thor agreed. “The element of surprise will work more in our favor than those rifles. It’ll be better if you kept them here. They’ll only get in the way when you tackle your men.”
“Tackle?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, it’s when you throw ’em to the ground. That’s called a tackle. Put your shoulder into it and aim for the middle. They’ll be on their backsides in seconds and will never know what hit ’em.”
“But what if they turn their firearms on us?” Jacob asked. “I ain’t planning to face something like that empty handed.”
Willow sighed. That rifle was Jacob Blakely’s third arm. The firearm would have to be ripped from Jacob to prevent the other man from using it.
“The guns won’t be necessary.” Thor’s jaw clenched. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Leave them here.”
“What will we do with Anders and the reverend after we get them out?” Simon asked. “Breaking them out of jail will have the law on us for sure.”
“We can take care of Sheriff Gibson,” Jacob said. “He won’t be a problem.”
“I won’t be a party to hurting the law!” Simon declared.
“Edwards, come on,” Tom said. “Ain’t nobody talkin’ about killin’ him.”
“But won’t breaking them out make them look guilty?” Simon asked.
“Keepin’ ’em in will make them dead!” Jacob said. “I like this plan. I say we do it. Come on, y’all. Let’s go!”
“Not so fast!” Thor shouted. “He raised a good point. We can’t take them and run.”
“Yeah! There ain’t too many hidin’ places around here,” Hammond said. “Soon as they find ’em, Davis and his men won’t wait for the justice. They’ll just string ’em up.” He patted Thor’s shoulder. “It was a good plan, but we gotta come up with something else. Got any ideas?”
“What are the charges against Anders and the Reverend?” Thor asked. “Exactly.”
“Slave stealing,” Simon piped in. “Davis keeps yelling about the Fugitive Slave Act. He says it’s a matter a law, and the reverend and Anders must be punished.”
“Slave stealing?” Thor’s eyebrows crinkled. “Wouldn’t they need proof of that?”
“Yeah.”
“Do they have proof?”
The men shook their heads. A few said, “Not that I know of.”
“The baggage was forwarded on to the Promised Land,” Tom said. “Anders and Brown were alone when Davis trapped them. Ain’t that right, Hammond?”
“Sure is,” Hammond answered. “They were just out riding from what I could see. Besides, nobody but a fool would try to steal slaves in broad daylight.”
“And nobody but a fool would accuse them,” Thor said. “Has anything been said to the sheriff on their behalf? Doesn’t he have the authority to release them if the charges are unjustified?”
All heads turned to Simon. Willow often heard him mention his lawyer cousin on numerous occasions when he found the courage to speak up, so naturally everyone looked to him as legal advisor.
Simon’s face flushed beet red. “I—I suppose so.”
The heads moved as a group again until they faced Thor. His lips turned into a faint smile.
“You can’t talk to the sheriff,” Willow said, “not with Davis present. He’s seen you.”
“So.” Thor shrugged. “Seeing me will clear up the confusion about Anders. He’ll see us both together and know that Anders isn’t the man he wants.”
“But then he’ll want to lynch you instead.” Fear closed around her heart. She could barely say the words. “He’ll want you to die for disrespecting his daughter.”
“There’s no law that says a man can be lynched for saying no to a woman,” Thor said. “Besides, I never stole a slave while I was on his property. None of us is guilty of the charges he has accused Anders and Brown of. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. . . Grady Falls took Big Nat off his plantation and you along with him, and without my permission. I think I’ll press charges against him instead.”
“Can you do that?” she asked, unconvinced. This plan seemed logical and sound to her; certainly more so than the drawing with its x’s and o’s. Worry refused to give her rest. Davis had a large group of supporters with him. The man loved his daughter, and Davis had taken Thor in without hesitation. She was sure the sight of Thor would send Davis into a fit of rage. Suddenly, she was not so sure about this plan either.
“You’re worrying too much,” Thor said.
“I don’t want you to die.”
The men curved a trail around them as they filed toward the door. A few looked pointedly at their joined hands, and Willow tried to tug free. Thor would not let her go.