Jarena straightened her shoulders. Her heart swelled with joy: There was hope for her aunt. “Are you sure?”
“I said I’d do it, but I don’t have the strength to keep talking. Just tell me what you want me to say and do.”
New York City
T
ruth knew Silas wanted to help her. However, she had grown weary of his constant reminders that he must be careful. So far as she was concerned, his vigilance took up far too much time with his trying to plan everything down to the last detail. Even now, he was once again delaying the delivery of her letter.
Silas’s exasperated sigh filled the room. “You gotta unnerstand that if I go to town ’ceptin’ on the regular schedule, I’s for sure gonna get in trouble. They’s gonna know somethin’s not right. If I’s gonna help, you’s got to be patient, Truth. I done tol’ Mr. Laird you’s still sick, and Daisy’s gonna sneak upstairs and check on Miss Macia.”
Truth paced the length of the carriage house with her arms tightly folded across her chest. She’d been able to spend several days feigning continued illness, but that meant leaving Macia alone. However, with Silas unwilling to go into town until his regularly scheduled trip next week, she must now return to look after Macia—which meant resuming the visits with Mr. Laird. She shuddered at the thought, yet she knew Silas was correct. They dared not draw unwanted attention.
“An’ you cain’t be spending time down here in da carriage house,” Silas insisted. “What if Mr. Laird walks over here an’ sees you?”
“Does he sometimes come here?”
“He been here once or twice, and with you sick, I figure he might be wantin’ to check and see if I been lyin’ to him. Ain’t smart takin’ chances.”
“I’ll go back upstairs in a minute. The days are long sitting up there with nothing to do. I told Daisy to bring me some mending from the house and I’d finish it for her.” She looked directly at Silas. “Have you noticed that since I quit going to tea with Mr. Laird, I’ve been feeling much better?”
“Course. I’d be a fool not t’ see that.”
“Well, do you remember me telling you I thought I’d seen Mr.
Laird putting something in Macia’s water on several occasions?”
Silas picked up one of the harnesses, laid it flat on the wood table, and began spreading neat’s-foot oil on the leather straps. “Um-hmm, I remember that.”
“Well, I think that’s what he was doing to me. Putting some kind of drug in my tea—or maybe in Daisy’s tarts when she served them to us. I never actually saw him, but I think that surely must be what he did. Otherwise, why would I feel better since I’ve quit joining him for tea? What do you think?”
Silas continued applying the oil, carefully seeking out any spots he might have missed with the worn paintbrush. “So you ain’ needin’ me to go fetch the doctor after all? Is that what you’s saying?”
“Even if I’m not so sick, we still need to have the doctor see to Macia. I can explain the ailments to him. I should go myself since I’m feeling somewhat better.”
“That ain’t smart thinkin’. What if Mr. Laird comes searchin’ for you or you go lookin’ for the doctor’s office and get lost in da city. You ain’t never found your way ’round no city big as New York, now has you?”
Truth recalled her arrival at the train station and the subsequent incident with the omnibus. Perhaps she couldn’t navigate about the city on her own.
“You needs t’ learn some patience. I’s gonna fetch the doctor, but it ain’t gonna be until next week. Promise me you ain’t gonna do nothin’ to get us in trouble.”
His request wasn’t unreasonable. Placing Daisy or Silas at risk was completely unfair, and Truth knew it. “All right. I’ll wait, but that means I must return to see Macia tomorrow. If Mr. Laird insists I join him for tea, I’ll watch him carefully.”
Silas removed a bottle of castor oil from the shelf and poured a dollop into a separate container before adding a measure of the neat’s-foot oil. Truth watched as he stirred the concoction and then thoroughly brushed the next harness. After replacing the bottles and cleaning his brush, Silas rubbed his stomach and nodded toward the stairs.
“You best go on. I’s goin’ over and see if Daisy saved me any victuals.”
Truth stood at the small window in the bedroom over the carriage house and watched as Silas ambled across the grassy expanse toward the kitchen door. Taking up a pair of stockings from Daisy’s mending basket, she threaded a needle and hoped Silas would soon return.
Truth completed the mending and, after a bit of searching, found a set of pillowcases in the bottom drawer of Daisy’s chest. With nothing else to pass the time, she dug in the sewing basket, deciding to embroider a delicate border of pink and yellow flowers along the edge of the pillowcases. She hoped Daisy wouldn’t think her actions too presumptuous. Though she longed for a book to read, Truth had been unable to convince either Silas or Daisy to remove a volume from the shelves that lined the Rutledge Academy classrooms.
When she finally heard the carriage house door open, Truth shoved the pillowcase into the sewing basket and waited, uncertain if it was Silas or Mr. Laird who had entered. Holding her breath, she tiptoed across the room, opened the door, and peeked downstairs. Silas was pulling a tin from the shelf, obviously preparing to continue his work on the harness straps. After she assured herself Mr. Laird hadn’t accompanied Silas, Truth hurried below and greeted him while she made herself comfortable on one of the lower steps.
He returned her greeting and then dipped his brush into the neat’s-foot mixture. As Silas brushed the leather, he told Truth he’d received his comeuppance from Daisy for eating the final remains of the noonday meal without permission.With a mischievous grin, he spoke of the pork roast and large helping of fried potatoes he’d devoured.
However, the gleam faded from his eyes only moments later. “ ’Bout the time I finished eatin’, I heard angry voices come into da kitchen. Then someone said your name.”
“My name?” Truth startled to attention and prodded Silas on.
“He say you ain’t nothing but trouble. Too smart for your own good—and that things need to be taken care of right away.”
“What
things
?” Truth squeaked. She rocked back against the unyielding step. The hardness of the wood pressed through her thin dress. She wanted to lean forward but fear held her body tight against the splintered tread.
Silas stopped his paintbrush in midswipe. “You! You need to be taken care of right away is what they was saying. Mr. Laird said he been puttin’ something in your tea but now that you’s taken to your bed, he gonna have to start all over. Something ’bout the effects wearing off. Then Mrs. Rutledge got all upset and said she didn’t wanna hear no talk ’bout what he been doing to none of the girls. Next thing I knows they’s arguing ’bout getting money on account of papers the girls signed.”
The information was far more than Truth had expected to hear. There was now little doubt that Mr. Laird and the Rutledges were up to no good. Guessing at reality was one thing, but knowing Mr. Laird had actually spoken of putting something into the tea caused Truth’s pulse to quicken.
Truth mentally attempted to sift through the information, still uncertain what all of it might mean. Silas picked up a piece of the well-oiled leather and rubbed it with a soft cloth while he repeated additional snatches of conversation as they came to mind. “I think these papers they’s havin’ the girls sign has somethin’ to do with all of this.”
“What did they say specifically, Silas? You need to remember exactly what kind of papers they were. Macia didn’t mention signing any papers.”
He lifted the leather strap and examined his handiwork. “That gal ain’t awake long enough to mention nothin’ ’bout no papers.”
“Think, Silas. What kind of papers did they talk about?”
He scratched his head and then leaned both hands on the worktable. “Somethin’ to do with ‘life.’ I heard ’em say ‘life papers.’ I knows that for sure.”
Truth stood. “When I go to see Macia tomorrow, I’ll try and keep her awake long enough to ask her some questions. Maybe she remembers signing something.”
“Jest be careful. Them folks is surely riled up, and if Mr. Laird hears you asking questions, no tellin’ what might happen. Like I told you earlier, he’s mighty angry wid you for causin’ trouble. No tellin’ what he might do.”
The next morning, Truth slipped up the back stairs and into Macia’s room. She hoped Mr. Laird had discontinued his habit of appearing in Macia’s room each morning. She poured water into the washbowl and carried it to the bedside table. After dipping a cloth in the water, she wrung it out and wiped Macia’s face. The girl stirred and attempted to push Truth away.
“Quit fighting me, Macia. You need to wake up.”
“You’re always bothering me, Truth. Go away.”
Truth persisted. Though Macia fought her at every turn, Truth managed to eventually force the girl from her bed and into an overstuffed chair with the promise that she’d let her sleep in peace after they talked.
Pulling a chair opposite Macia, Truth plopped down and leaned forward, resting her arms across her thighs. “I want you to try and remember if you signed any papers when you first arrived at the school, Macia.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why, just tell me—do you recall signing papers?” Macia stared at the ceiling until Truth finally snapped her fingers. “Try to concentrate, Macia.”
“They said Father hadn’t completed all of the papers and I was required to sign something. That’s all I remember. Now can I go back to bed?”
“Not yet. Did you read any of them?”
Macia shook her head. “No. Mrs. Rutledge was talking to me and Mr. Laird—Marvin—pointed to the place for me to sign.”
“Did the papers say anything about your life?”
“My
life
? Why would they say anything about my life?”
Before Truth could respond, the door swung open. “Well, look who’s here. I trust you’re feeling much better, Truth?”
She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palms as Mr. Laird crossed the room. “Yes, thank you. I was just going to help Macia get back into bed and then return to my room and get some rest myself.”
He wagged his finger back and forth. “Not without some refreshments before you depart. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Another time might be better. Today is my first day up and about and I’m a bit weary.”
“I promise I won’t keep you long. I’ve missed our little chats. Come along, now.”
Truth reluctantly helped Macia get back into bed and then followed Mr. Laird downstairs. As had become the custom, they waited while Daisy brought the tray into the room. However, Truth would make certain he wouldn’t fool her this time. She carefully watched as Mr. Laird prepared the tea, and although he dipped his hand into his pocket, she didn’t see him withdraw anything. He carried the tray across the room and carefully situated it on the table.
“Do help yourself,” he said, pointing at one of the teacups.
Without hesitation, Truth reached across the tray and picked up the cup and saucer on the opposite side of the tray. Mr. Laird appeared dumbfounded as she took a sip of the tea.
She picked up the other cup and offered it to Mr. Laird. He hesitated. “Please. I don’t want to partake alone.”
His jaw twitched as he took the cup and balanced it on his knee without taking a sip. When the brew had grown cold, he placed the cup back on the tray. “I have several appointments and must depart. We’ll spend more time together tomorrow.”
Truth forced herself to appear unruffled as she walked from the room. She maintained a steady, even gait until she walked out the kitchen door. But the moment her feet touched the grassy expanse, she raced pell-mell toward the carriage house and barreled through the doorway. “Silas! You were right! He’s using something to make Macia sick—and me, too. Except this time I fooled him. We need to go to the police, Silas.”
His eyes widened with fear. “Police?”
Truth dropped onto the bottom step. “Yes. Police, constable, sheriff, whatever name they go by here in New York—we must go and talk to them.”
Silas squatted down in front of her. “And tell ‘em what? That these fine white folks what run this expensive school for girls is bein’ mean to us colored folks and may be killin’ some of the white gals?”
She nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what we need to tell them.”
“This may be the North, but if you think them constables is gonna listen to us, you better think again. They’d prob’ly say we was crazy and lock us up in that insane asylum on the other side of town. We can’t be goin’ to no police, Truth.”
“You think they won’t listen because the Rutledges are wealthy and own this school?”
“And ’cause rich folks send their daughters to this place, and ’cause lots of important folks know Mr. Laird an’ Mr. Rutledge—and ’cause we’s colored and they’s white.”
Truth rubbed her forehead. “Then what are we going to do?”
“If we’s gonna get outta here, we gotta get us a good plan. I’m thinkin’ we can’t take no chance getting that doctor. So long as you can keep from drinking any more of that tea, you shouldn’ be gettin’ sick no more. And maybe it’s better if Macia’s sleepin’ when we try and take her outta here—that way she won’t wake nobody up with her yellin’.”
“I’d rather go to the constable.”
Silas grabbed both of her hands and held them tight. “You listen ter me, Truth. You got lots of book learnin’. Ain’t no denyin’ you’s lots smarter than the likes of me. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that we can’t depend on no one but ourselves to get outta here. If you ain’t willin’ to keep the law outta this, then I ain’t goin’ with you. You gotta give me your word.”
There was no choice to be made. She must have Silas’s help or she’d never get Macia out of this school. She nodded. “You have my word.”
“Good. Now let’s make us a plan.”
Hill City , Kansas
J
arena opened the front door to young Georgie Nelson.
“Good morning, Miss Harban. May I see Miss Lilly?” He carried another bouquet of roses in one hand and clutched a small black folder in the other.