Indigo (15 page)

Andre nodded his head yes. "Especially with women—" He cut his comment short with a look of panic in his eyes.

Hester simply shook her head. The revelation did not surprise her. "I'm old enough to hear the truth, Mr. Renaud. Please, don't be embarrassed. I doubt your employer considers me one of his women."

If Renaud had an opinion he kept it to himself. "If you won't be needing us any further, we'll leave you, Miss Wyatt."

Hester thanked both men, then watched as they drove away.

She spent close to an hour opening crates and conducting an inventory. When she was done, she found she had enough food to feed an army of runaways. There were the hams Renaud remarked upon earlier, along with smoked salmon, dried beef, and smoked turkeys. She found rashes of bacon, flour, cheeses, lard, salt. One box held only spices, many of which Hester had never seen before, and another was filled with candles. There were jars of put-up vegetables and jams. She even found a cache of oranges, of all things. She'd only had an orange once in her life. She found the whole exercise so overwhelming, she had no idea where to begin culling what she wanted to keep. Were Galen here she would have boxed his ears for such extravagance. She picked up one of the oranges, and, unable to resist, broke the skin and extracted one of the juice-filled sections. She ate it slowly, savoring the sweet coldness. She decided maybe she would keep a few of the oranges after all.

By evening she'd put away most of the items and decided that the rest could wait until morning. As she turned to douse the parlor's lights, she spied one thing she didn't remember Renaud or his helper carry into the house. It was a large wooden chest. She snaked her way through the crates, pushed aside the ones on either side of the chest, then knelt beside it. Hester thought it looked as if it had been in someone's family for quite some time. Its gleaming dark wood showed off years of polishing. The front panel on the outside was beautifully carved all over with garlands of flowers. The workings were delicately exquisite. Hester was curious about the contents and so opened the hinged top slowly. Inside she found nightgowns, dozens of them in a variety of styles and lengths. Some were made of the finest Egyptian cotton and others appeared to have been fashioned from only a handful of silk. There were also some so daringly sheer, she could see right through them. They were all beautiful, even though none would keep her warm on a Michigan night. She smiled at this gift, because she remembered Galen's comments about her ugly, serviceable gowns. Should he ever see her in these, she'd willingly bet he'd whistle a different tune. The idea of wearing them for his eyes alone was as thrilling as it was inappropriate.

With a sigh, she closed the chest and headed upstairs, forcing herself to think of Foster, hoping he would return soon. Without his presence she doubted her ability to brook Galen's pull on her imagination.

The warmth of early April signaled winter's eventual demise, but everyone knew spring wouldn't come to stay for good until later in the month. For now, the folks around Whittaker had to contend with thawing roads, ankle-deep with mud, and weather so changeable it sometimes went from rain to sunshine to blowing snow all within a day's span. There'd been no word of the slave catcher Shoe and his men all winter. Rumor had it he'd been shot in a fight with members of a Toledo-area Vigilance Committee, and had fled south to lick his wounds. Hester didn't care why Shoe had gone south, only that he was gone. With one less menace hanging over their heads, the conductors on Hester's section of the Road began transporting their freedom-seeking passengers once again.

Hester hid a group of fugitives in her cellar for three days during the first week of April. She fed them well from Galen's storehouse of goods, then drove them into Ann Arbor hidden in the false bottom of her wagon. The going was muddy and therefore slow, but she reached the next station without mishap.

Most of the conductors on Hester's line were women, even though some men, like William Lovejoy, disapproved. The circle of female conductors took root during her grandmother's day. The daughters and granddaughters of these founding families continued to do their part.

Hester pulled back on the reins and halted the mule and the wagon in the back of the house owned by her good friend Abigail Grayson. Hester stepped down into the slushy mud. Shivering beneath her well-worn cape, she slogged her way around to the back of the wagon. She took a moment to glance around the countryside to determine if Abigail's house was being watched. When she saw no one, she undid the false bottom and helped her passengers out. Abigail met them at the back door and quickly ushered everyone inside. She and Hester shared a brief welcoming hug, then Abigail took the others into the kitchen for some hot soup and something warm to drink. Only after seeing that all the fugitives' needs had been met did Abigail invite Hester into the parlor for talk and tea.

Abigail eased herself into a soft chair then set her cane beside her. She had walked with the aid of a cane for as long as Hester had known her, close to ten years now. Gail was a full decade older than Hester but it had not stopped them from being fast friends.

Hester savored the warmth of the cup in her hand and asked, "How's Jake faring in Niles?" Jake was Abigail's ten-year-old son, and the apple of her eye.

Abigail smiled. "He's hunting and fishing with my brother, Absalom, and his son, Nate. They're having a grand time. It's certain he won't want to come home any time soon. Absalom keeps asking if Jake can stay for the rest of the year."

Abigail's brother resided in a small town outside of Niles, Michigan, a place known as Grayson's Grove. According to Gail, as Abigail preferred to be addressed, the Grayson family owned the grove and everything in it.

"Are you going to let him stay?" Hester asked.

Gail shrugged. "I'm leaning towards it. I'll miss him greatly but Jake needs to be around men. He's growing up."

Hester had never been told the story regarding Jake's father, only that there'd been some type of scandal many years ago.

Hester turned the conversation to the runaways in the kitchen. Gail had already made arrangements for them to go on to the next station that night as the five people had decided to exercise their dearly earned freedom on Canadian soil.

The conductors who'd carry them on to the next station were a married couple named Martha and Reginald Travis and they knocked on Abigail's back door just past midnight. They were Quakers and had been conductors for as long as Hester had been alive.

Hester and Abigail waited outside in the cold night air while the passengers fitted themselves beneath the mound of hay filling the bed of the Travis wagon. The hay would serve as cover for their passage and more importantly keep them warm on the long trek to Detroit.

When the wagon rolled away, Hester and Abigail quickly ran back into the house.

"Hester, are there any houses for sale in Whittaker?" Gail asked as she showed Hester into Jake's bedroom.

Hester had decided to spend the night rather than brave the cold, lonely trip back home. She set her worn valise on Jake's bed and opened it to remove her night clothes. "Not that I'm aware of. Why, are you thinking to move?"

"I am. This house has become cloying. It contains too many terrible memories."

"You can always come and stay with me for a while if you'd like," Hester said. "I've more than enough room."

"It wouldn't be a bother?"

"Oh, Gail, no. I'd love to have you."

"Maybe I'll take you up on the offer. Lord knows I don't wish to reside within these walls any longer. Did Katherine ever tell you the story of Jake's father?"

Hester shook her head. "I was too young, I suppose."

"Well, you're old enough now, and if I'm to stay with you, you should at least know the sordid details." Gail offered a bittersweet smile, then added, "We'll talk in the morning. Right now, we both need to get some sleep."

Over breakfast the next morning, Gail told Hester of the betrayals and falsehoods which undermined Gail's short marriage to Roland Grinell.

"He was a bigamist?!" Hester asked.

"Yes, there were at least two other wives. The one in Kalamazoo had borne him three children. He also had a wife in Windsor."

According to Gail, Grinell married her to grab her share of the Grayson lands. He assumed the land would be put under his control once he became her husband, as was customary. Evidently he'd run the scam successfully on spinsters and widows many times before. He'd marry, gain control of whatever properties or funds the women possessed, sell the assets, pocket the profits, and disappear. But the terms of the Grayson will forbade any sale or transfer of the land without the approval of any other living Grayson family members.

Gail's twin brother, Absalom, refused to give his permission.

"Why?"

"Absalom took an instant dislike to Roland. The day Roland Grinell first rode into the grove, supposedly seeking information on a recently escaped family member, Absalom said he smelled like trouble. Unfortunately, I had a less acute sense of smell than my dear brother. I smelled only his Bay Rum cologne." She added, "However, he stank like week-old fish by the time he vanished."

"How was he exposed?"

"Absalom hired a man to check on Roland's past. The wife in Kalamazoo was posing as a hairdresser. Absalom's man said she preyed on lonely old men and widowers in much the same way as her husband. The pair were wanted by authorities in Michigan, Ohio, and southern Ontario."

She paused a moment and her eyes became distant.

"You have to remember, I thought I loved him very much. When he came courting, I'd never had a suitor before. He was handsome, well educated. He brought me flowers and candy. He described all the exotic places we'd visit after we married. I was overwhelmed by it all, and defied my family to marry him. When my brother confronted me with the information about his trail of misdeeds, I refused to believe any of it. I was convinced Absalom didn't want to see me happy, so I took the train to Kalamazoo to confront this woman myself. I just knew she was lying about being married to Roland and I planned on proving it. I went to her house, and when I told her who I was she laughed and said, 'So you're my husband's little country pigeon. Welcome to the big city, Miss Grayson Grove.' Then she slammed the door in my face."

Hester was speechless.

"When I returned to Detroit, he was already packing to leave. Absalom had just departed and had threatened to have him jailed if he did not leave town. Roland swore he'd done nothing to deserve such treatment, and that if I truly loved him, Jake and I would leave, too. When I told him who I'd visited while in Kalamazoo, and that the jig was up, he flew into a rage. He said yes, he was married to another. Then he began to taunt me. He told me my land had been the only reason he'd stooped to marry a woman as ugly as me. Told me I'd never find a man to love me without my land as a bribe.

"He cursed my brother and cursed me. He became so enraged, he began striking me. Hester, I am six feet tall in my stocking feet, I was raised around men, and I can pretty much handle anything that comes my way, but I have never had a man raise his hand against me in violence. When he struck me we were at the top of the stairs. The blow was so unexpected and so filled with anger it knocked me backwards. I remember losing my balance and falling. When I came to, I was lying at the bottom of the stairs. One of my neighbors, Mrs. Neal, was kneeling beside me and holding my squalling Jake in her arms. He was still an infant at that time and he must have been bawling for some time because she said his constant crying made her fear something had happened to me, so she came over to take a look."

"Where was your husband? Surely he didn't simply leave you lying there after what he'd done."

"Oh, but he did. Mrs. Neal lived directly across the road. She said she saw him leave long before she heard Jake's crying begin."

Hester was appalled by the man's behavior. "And all this happened here, in this house? Is that why you need the cane?"

"Yes. The doctors said I'd walk with a cane for the rest of my life because of the damage done to my hip in the fall. After Roland left, I had all the rooms repainted, changed all the furniture, and told myself I would not let those memories win. I loved this house when we first moved here, hell, I loved him back then, but I fought the good fight almost ten years by staying here. I'm ready to move on."

They spent the next hour or so discussing the logistics of Gail's move to Whittaker. It would be nearly a month before Gail could make the move, but Hester told her she'd be welcome whenever the time came.

Hester thought about Gail's story as she drove the wagon back to Whittaker later that day. In Hester's mind, it was just one more tragic example of the painful side of love. Marrying Foster for companionship seemed to be a much better choice.

Like a god send, she heard from Foster the very next day. Branton Hubble dropped off the letter he'd picked up for her in town and Hester hastily broke the seal. According to the date on the top of the missive it had been posted in England nearly three months ago. She knew how long the mail took at times but her eyes widened when she saw the date of his expected arrival in Detroit. "That's tomorrow!" she said aloud. He would certainly expect to be met at the train in Ann Arbor. She could hardly wait to see him again, but she did not relish another slow trek through the mud-filled roads.