Freedom's Price (8 page)

“She's a kind lady.”

“No one is that kind,” Eliza protested.

Pa lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I asked her to sign a bond when we filed our case. She said yes, but then did even more. She hired Mr. Hall to be our lawyer. But it would embarrass Miss Charlotte if people knew. Her friends would think she'd followed her husband's politics.”

Ma beckoned them to come get their food. Eliza jumped to her feet, her stomach making a rumbling noise. She gave Pa her hand.

“These old bones are getting stiff,” he complained.

“You're not old,” she said. “I'll get Lizzie washed up.”

As Eliza and Lizzie pumped water into the washbasin by the back door, Mrs. Martin passed them on her way to the stairs. A doctor in a black coat followed behind. Eliza watched them go, wondering and worrying.

“Eliza! Stop!” Lizzie shouted.

Startled, Eliza looked down to see the water overflowing the basin. “Sorry, Lizzie.”

At dinner, Eliza and Lizzie lined up behind the trustees and their parents to pile their plates high with beans and
early collard greens flavored with some pork back fat. As she ate, Eliza kept an eye on the door, but there was no sign of the doctor. When Ma's back was turned, Eliza licked her bowl clean. Lizzie gave the leftover sauce in her bowl to the tomcat.

After dinner, Eliza did the washing up with Lizzie's help. Ma and Pa sat at the table talking with Mrs. George. Their faces were somber, and Eliza guessed they were discussing Lucy.

“Dred,” Mrs. Martin interrupted, “will you come to the infirmary?”

Ma's and Pa's eyes met. The biscuits in Eliza's stomach turned to rocks. What had the doctor said? Was Lucy in the infirmary now? And why Pa?

“I'll be glad to,” Pa replied. Pa handed Eliza his empty bowl and spoon to put in the soapy water and disappeared down the hall with Mrs. Martin.

Usually Ma preened a bit when Pa was asked for his medical advice, as though it made her family more important. But tonight she looked worried.

“Why does she need Dred?” Mrs. George asked.

Ma's gaze was fixed on the door and she didn't answer.

“Ma, what's happening?” Eliza asked.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

Her lips pressed together to keep from arguing with Ma, Eliza scrubbed the pots hard enough to make them shine.

A short time later Pa came back. He had to steady himself on the end of the table. Ma put her hand over his. “What is it, Dred?” she asked.

He whispered in her ear, and Ma's body went still. Desperate to know what was happening, Eliza collected the remaining spoons and knives, but Pa stopped whispering when Eliza neared them.

“Take Lizzie and get ready for bed, Eliza,” he told her.

“But I'm not done with the dishes,” she protested.
And I deserve to know!
she thought.

“Don't argue with me, young lady!” Pa said sharply.

“Take Lizzie and don't leave the cell,” Ma added.

Eliza grabbed Lizzie's hand and headed out. She walked slowly, hoping her parents would let something slip, but they were watching and waiting for them to go. Was Lucy worse? Was Lucy dead? Was it something else altogether?

When they reached the hall, Lizzie tugged on Eliza's arm. “Ma sounded scared,” Lizzie said.

“I'm sure everything is all right.” Eliza tried to sound reassuring.

“Eliza, you sound scared too.”

C
HAPTER
Ten

B
ACK IN THEIR CELL
, E
LIZA HELPED HER SISTER INTO A NIGHTDRESS
but kept her own clothes on. She arranged Lizzie's faded blanket on the straw bed. Ma had collected dozens of blankets to keep them warm. Even this past winter when the damp had seeped through the walls and icicles formed inside the window, they hadn't been cold.

Ma did her best to make the cell feel like home, but Eliza always felt like the walls were closing in on her—maybe because every wall was the same whitewashed color. Ma kept the narrow room spotless and washed the stone floor every week. But every night Eliza breathed through her mouth to avoid the smell of jail that just never went away.

“Sing me a song,” Lizzie demanded as she crawled under the blanket.

“Just one and you have to close your eyes,” Eliza said. Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut. Eliza sang one of her own tunes.

                  
I was born on the Mississippi

                  
On a night it was raising Cain.

                  
And every time I think of my ma

                  
I think of the pouring rain.

“Ma won't let you say ‘Cain,'” Lizzie mumbled.

“Go to sleep,” Eliza said. When Lizzie finally fell asleep, Eliza left the candle burning in its holder and slipped out of the cell. She refused to let her parents protect her from bad news. Eliza would find out what was going on.

She hurried to the common room. The door was closed, so she crouched down and put her ear to the crack next to the floor.

“That poor girl.” Eliza heard Mrs. Martin's voice on the other side of the door.

Mrs. George answered, “As if she didn't have troubles enough.”

Mrs. Martin's whisper was just barely audible to Eliza. “I'm not supposed to say anything,” she began, in that tone of voice that meant she was going to tell Mrs. George everything. “The doctor doesn't want to cause a panic, but he thinks it's . . .” There was a pause as if the word was too awful to say. “Cholera.”

“Cholera!”

Eliza caught her breath. Lucy had cholera? That was even worse than Eliza had imagined. Cholera was a killer. No one knew what caused it or what cured it either. If cholera was in the jail, they were all in deadly danger.

“We're keeping it quiet,” Mrs. Martin went on. “The doctor could be wrong.”

“Is the girl vomiting?” Mrs. George asked. “Is her stool watery? Does she have cramps?”

“All those things,” Mrs. Martin said sadly.

“Wretched girl!” Mrs. George exclaimed. “She'll give it to all of us!”

Eliza nearly fell over, she was so indignant. It wasn't Lucy's fault she was sick!

“You can't blame her,” protested Mrs. Martin, speaking the words Eliza wanted to say. “For now, she'll stay in the infirmary. Harriet and Dred Scott are watching her. Dred's owner was a doctor, and Dred's good with sick folks.”

Eliza was frozen to the spot. Her pity for Lucy was mixed now with fear for herself and her family. What was Pa thinking?

“What if the sickness spreads?” Mrs. George asked. “It won't be safe here.”

“That is up to my husband,” Mrs. Martin replied. “He'll do everything possible to keep everyone safe.”

The women moved out of earshot. That was all right with Eliza; she had plenty to think about. She scurried back to her cell. Lizzie was snoring on the floor. Eliza climbed into bed and held her sister tightly. Cholera! Ma had told her about it. A man would be hale and hearty one day and dead the next. It was painful and disgusting—with the sick coming out of the patient from both ends. And since they didn't know what caused it, how would Pa keep from getting ill himself?

Eliza heard Ma's footsteps in the hall coming toward their cell. She snuffed out the candle and pulled the blanket up to her nose before the candle smoke hit the air.

Eliza willed her body to be as still as a corpse. To her surprise, Ma didn't get ready for bed. Instead she rummaged in their small chest until she found what she was looking for. A moment later the smell of camphor filled the small cell. It was a particularly nasty medicine that Ma would apply to Eliza's skin when she had a rash or a bug bite.

Eliza opened her eyes to watch Ma pull out a little brush and begin painting the cell bars with the medicine.

“What are you doing, Ma?” Eliza asked, yawning as if she had been awakened.

If Ma was startled, she didn't show it. She kept brushing, up and down and around the bars. “Never you mind, Eliza. Go back to sleep.”

Eliza closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Then Ma put on her nightdress and got into bed. For a long time, Eliza heard a faint murmuring. Ma was praying.

Eliza wanted to sit up and say,
Praying won't help us if Pa puts himself in cholera's way.
But she held her tongue and bided her time. As soon as Ma fell asleep, Eliza was going to find Pa in the infirmary and tell him exactly what she thought.

T
he “infirmary” wasn't much different from Eliza's cell except that it was bigger and had four cots with proper sheets on them. The room was at the end of the hall, farthest from
the noise of the street. A thick curtain hung in the doorway.

It must be almost midnight by now. The jail was quiet except for Lucy's moans. Eliza slid quietly up to the cell door and pulled the curtain aside. The room was ablaze with light from two lanterns. Pa sat on a wooden stool next to the bed, and he was washing Lucy's face with a small towel. When he moved, his shadow flitted wildly across the white walls.

Lucy started to vomit. Pa grabbed a bucket. Lucy threw up just a little thick liquid—she must not have anything left in her stomach. Eliza's stomach roiled too, and she tasted a little sick in her mouth. She must have made a sound because Pa glanced behind him. His eyes went wide when he saw Eliza.

“What are you doing here?” he shouted. “Get out!”

“Pa, I need to talk to you,” Eliza said, and started to walk into the infirmary.

“For God's sake, Eliza, stay away.”

“If it's not safe for me, then it's not safe for you.”

Suddenly Eliza's arm was grabbed so hard it almost jerked out of the socket. Her mother dragged Eliza out the door.

“Ma, you're hurting me.”

“What are you doing here?” Ma demanded.

“I wanted to tell Pa that he shouldn't nurse Lucy. Cholera is too dangerous.”

She stared defiantly, daring Ma to lie.

Ma loosened her hold. “How do you know about the cholera?”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Eliza shot back.

“You're a child. Your pa and I will decide what you need to know.” She pointed down the hall, and Eliza marched back to the cell, with her mother right behind her. Ma pushed Eliza in and carefully closed the door. Eliza frowned as Ma pulled a key from her pocket and locked the door.

“But we never lock the door!” Eliza protested.

“We do tonight,” her mother snapped. “You are going to stay put until morning. We don't have time to worry about you.”

“Ma!” Eliza rattled the cell door. The smell of camphor set her eyes to watering. “Ma, let me out.” The fading sound of her mother's footsteps was her only answer.

C
HAPTER
Eleven

A
CLANG OF METAL ON METAL WOKE
E
LIZA WITH A START
. P
A
stood in the cell's open doorway looking as though he hadn't slept at all. Lizzie was curled up against Eliza's back, but Ma was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, Eliza,” Pa said.

“Where's Ma?” she asked. Moving gingerly away from Lizzie, Eliza got to her feet, her back stiff from the thin straw bed. She peered behind Pa in the dim light. “She locked me in!”

“Now, Eliza, your ma only did what I would have done,” her father warned. “You should never have been in the infirmary.”

“You shouldn't be there either,” Eliza cried. “What will happen to all of us if you get cholera?”

“I raised you better than that.” She could see the disappointment in his face. “Lucy needs my help.”

Eliza couldn't meet his eyes. She'd been thinking of herself, not poor Lucy. “How is she?”

“She's resting.” He pulled her into his gentle hug. “I understand that you're worried, but I'll be careful.”

“You and Ma yelled at me when I tried to help Lucy.”

“I know the risks and I made a choice to help her. But you always leap first, then think about the consequences. You're not scared enough.”

“Of what?” Eliza asked, confused.

“Everything. No matter how many times we warn you about running off by yourself, getting in a slave catcher's way, going to the second floor when you aren't supposed to, sneaking into the infirmary—you do it anyway.”

“The second floor?” Eliza asked. She didn't think Pa knew about that.

He tilted her chin up with one finger. “I found your blanket wrapped around Lucy. Who else could have given it to her?”

“I didn't know she was sick.” Eliza grabbed his hand; it was raw from scrubbing. “What about you? How will you keep from getting ill?”

“I'm fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Dr. Emerson taught me to scrub my hands after I'm with a sick patient.”