Worthy Brown's Daughter (7 page)

CHAPTER 13

S
haron Hill closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her seat. The carriage Benjamin Gillette had provided for her rocked gently as Francis Gibney guided it down the hill to the Evergreen Hotel. This evening had been interesting. Gillette had not been overtly affectionate in public, but he had introduced her to some of his crowd. They were all powerful and well connected, and she felt that she had charmed the men. How much she’d succeeded with the women was another question. A few had been cold to her. Some, she suspected, were suspicious. A few had been cordial.

And then there had been her encounter with Justice Tyler. He had been leaving just as she arrived.

“I saw you on the grandstand, this afternoon,” she had said, “but I wasn’t able to get over to say hello. I’m glad I’ve run into you again. Ever since Phoenix, I’ve wanted to tell you how impressed I was with the way you ran your court.”

“I did my job and nothing more,” was his stiff reply, and she sensed that he was uneasy around her.

“And the way you handled the mob. That, too, was impressive.”

“They were good men who were misled by their passions. That we are a nation of laws is a concept that’s new to many in the West. Most men will follow the law when they know what it is and that it’s there for them,” Tyler had said, sounding like a man giving a lecture on civics to a group of students.

“Would most men obey the law without strong men to enforce it?”

“Perhaps not, but I would hope so.”

“But are there not outlaws?” Hill asked. “Men whose nature makes it impossible for them to conform their conduct to the rules of society? And doesn’t the existence of these outlaws create a need for men like you?”

“Unfortunately, that is so,” Tyler admitted.

Sharon Hill had smiled wickedly. “Have you ever broken the law, Judge?”

Tyler had seemed to loosen up, and he’d smiled back. “If I have, I would be foolish to admit it.”

“Then you’ve sinned?”

Tyler’s smile had widened. “Ah, Miss Hill, you have me there. I know of no man who hasn’t committed some sin, but a man may sin without violating the law.”

Tyler had just begun to relax when Ben had come along and the judge had left. Hill sensed in Tyler a ruthlessness and drive that matched her own. And he had been so nervous around her, a sure sign that he was attracted to her. It didn’t matter anyway. Tyler was interesting, but Gillette was rumored to be worth millions and he was the prize.

The carriage halted, and Hill opened her eyes. Francis Gibney stepped down and offered his hand. She accepted it but felt no warmth when they touched.

“Thank you, Francis,” she said as he helped her out.

Gibney eyed her coolly but didn’t reply. He was one of the few men Sharon Hill feared. Gibney was impervious to her charms and made no effort to conceal his contempt for her when his boss was not around. Though she had no reason to believe that he was interfering with her plans for Gillette, she suspected that he would be a formidable opponent if he decided to intervene.

Hill crossed the lobby and climbed the stairs to the suite Benjamin was renting for her. A maid had lit the gaslights when she’d turned down the covers of the oversize bed. As soon as she closed the door, Hill went to her dressing table. She was in the act of removing her jewelry when someone knocked loudly.

The knock was too belligerent for one of the hotel staff. Sharon looked through the peephole and found an intoxicated Caleb Barbour swaying back and forth in the hall. Barbour pounded on her door again. Hill opened it, and Barbour staggered in. She closed the door quickly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk, and it’s late.”

“Then why did you let me in?” Barbour asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Let me make one thing clear, Caleb. I let you in to lessen the chance of a scandal. If someone were to see you at my door in your condition, they might not understand.”

“You know I find you very attractive,” Barbour said, his speech slurred.

“I repeat, you’re drunk, and it’s late. I know you’d never come here if you were clearheaded. What would Ben say if he found out that you forced your way into my room in this condition? He’s already upset with the way you handled that case in Phoenix.”

Hill’s mention of Phoenix hit Barbour like a bucket of cold water. Anger cut through some of the effects of the liquor he’d imbibed.

“That bastard Penny,” he muttered.

“His accusations were vile, but they forced Ben to settle, and he didn’t want to lose that case. He’s told me so.”

“Did he say anything about me?” Barbour asked, suddenly concerned.

Hill forced herself to look ill at ease. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“What did he say?”

“Just that he was upset. He wondered if you’d given him good advice when you told him that he could get out of the contract with Farber. I really don’t know any more, Caleb.”

“But you’d tell me if you knew?”

“Why should I tell you anything Ben tells me?”

“Because I know what you want to do, and I can help you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You want to get your hooks in him.” Barbour cast a sly look in Hill’s direction. “Maybe you even imagine yourself as Mrs. Benjamin Gillette.”

“Why should that be your concern?”

“You know he’ll never marry you.”

“Whether he does or not is none of your business.”

“It could be if I told you a way to achieve your ends.”

“And how would I do that?”

Barbour ran his eyes down Hill’s body. “There’s nothing free in this world, Sharon. Everything has a price.”

“I think you should leave.”

“If I leave, you’ll never learn a surefire way to make Gillette’s fortune your own.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Gillette is taking you to San Francisco. Did you know that in California a marriage can be consummated by contract? I know an attorney in San Francisco who will draw up a contract of marriage between you and Ben and forge Gillette’s signature by copying the signature on a document I have in my possession.”

“What use would a forged contract of marriage be if Ben denies he entered into it?”

“Gillette couldn’t deny anything if he was dead. And if Ben was dead, I could be counted on to verify the signature on the contract . . . for a price.”

Hill laughed. “I can assure you that Ben is as healthy as an ox. Assuming I agreed to your plan, there’s no way we could count on his dying anytime soon. He could last another twenty years. Then what good would the contract be?”

“I’ve made some inquiries, Sharon. It seems that a pimp named Quimby died under mysterious circumstances shortly before your appearance in Phoenix. I also learned of the equally mysterious disappearance of a woman fitting your description who was living with Quimby and was rumored to be one of his working girls.”

It took every ounce of Hill’s self-control to keep from reacting.

“I don’t know anyone named Quimby,” she answered coolly.

“I’m sure you don’t. But the woman who did may know how to make a man’s death appear to be from natural causes. If a woman like that owned a contract of marriage with Benjamin Gillette and the affections of Gillette’s attorney, she would stand an excellent chance of being recognized as the rightful heir to his fortune.”

“You’ve mentioned this lawyer several times, but you’ve yet to mention his name.”

Caleb moved toward her. “If you’re nice to me, I might tell you.”

CHAPTER 14

C
aleb Barbour slammed open the front door of his house, awakening Roxanne, who cowered in her room. When the door opened like that, it usually meant that her master was mean drunk. And when Barbour was mean drunk, it was often Roxanne who paid.

Roxanne heard the heavy tread of Barbour’s boots in the entryway and prayed that he would pass out. The beatings had gotten worse since her father had been chased off. She still ached from the pain Barbour had inflicted the day the papers in her father’s lawsuit had been served. She hadn’t said a word about the beatings to Worthy because she was afraid of what he might do.

Barbour’s heavy steps paused at the stairs.
Please, God, let him go to bed
, she prayed.

“Roxanne! Damn it, nigger, where are you?”

Barbour was so drunk he’d forgotten that she was locked in. Roxanne bit her lip and started to shake. Moments later, the key turned in the lock. Barbour wrenched open the door and stood in the hall, swaying.

“Get out here.”

Roxanne forced her feet to move. Barbour stood still and forced Roxanne to walk forward until she was close enough to smell the liquor on his breath and his body’s sour odor. She stopped when they were almost touching and cast her eyes down. They stayed in that position for several seconds. Then Barbour walked into the parlor and collapsed into a chair.

“Get over here and take off my boots.”

“Yes, suh,” Roxanne said as she scurried over as fast as she could. Barbour raised a leg, and Roxanne knelt in front of him. She’d been sleeping in a loose shift, and the fabric pulled away from her body, revealing the tops of her breasts. Even though her concentration was on Barbour’s boot, Roxanne knew that he was looking down her nightdress. She tried to block out the thought and focus on the boot. She gripped it and pulled. It was hard to take off, and she failed in her first attempt.

“Are you useless? Can’t you do something as simple as this?” Barbour shouted.

“I’m sorry, suh. I’ll get it.”

Roxanne’s hands were trembling when she gripped the boot again. This time she got it halfway off, but it caught on Barbour’s heel. Barbour lashed out with his other foot and kicked her in the ribs. Pain shot through her side, and she sprawled on the floor for a second before rolling over to get out of Barbour’s range.

“That’s right, roll over like a dog,” Barbour shouted as he wrenched off the first boot and flung it at Roxanne’s head. She raised her hand quickly and deflected the boot, then huddled on the floor waiting to see what Barbour would do next.

“Get this boot,” Barbour said, and she was up like a shot. Fear gave her the strength to pull off the second boot on her first attempt. Barbour looked down at her, and she clutched the muddy boot to her chest, fighting back the tears that she knew would inflame him.

Barbour stood unsteadily. He swayed above her and raised his hand to strike her. Then, as suddenly as his rage had come, it departed, and he lost interest in tormenting her. He brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed it. Roxanne tensed, preparing for more violence, but Barbour appeared to have forgotten that she was lying at his feet. The next moment he was weaving up the stairs to his bedroom.

Roxanne lay on the parlor floor curled around the boot until she heard Barbour’s bedroom door close. Then she collapsed from relief and sobbed. When she’d shed enough tears, Roxanne took the boots into the kitchen and shined them, knowing that there would be hell to pay if the boots were not clean in the morning. Somewhere in the middle of her chore it dawned on Roxanne that Barbour had forgotten to lock her in her room. The back door was a few feet away. Barbour was probably passed out. If she ran for it now, she would be miles away by morning.

But where would she go? He would send the sheriff after her. They’d come with dogs. She’d seen that happen in Georgia. And she didn’t want to think about the beating she would receive once she’d been returned to Barbour’s custody.

No, freedom wasn’t for her, not for someone whose skin color left her no place to hide. Roxanne returned to her task, sobbing silently as she scraped the mud from her master’s boots before shining them so brightly that she could see her tearstained face reflected in the soft leather.

CHAPTER 15

M
atthew’s mount whinnied when he pulled back on the reins in front of Worthy Brown’s log cabin. After dismounting, he rearranged the sack coat he had taken to wearing since Francis Gibney warned him about Caleb Barbour. He’d used part of the attorney fee in the
Farber
case to purchase the coat and two revolvers. The coat hung below his knees and had deep pockets in which the barrels could lie. Matthew had practiced firing the pistols through them, which made the pockets useless for anything but mayhem. The coat was heavy for the season, but it kept the dust off his clothes and provided Matthew with a sense of security.

After receiving Caleb Barbour’s assurance that he would set the Browns free, Worthy had built his one-room home in a wooded glade near a fast-moving stream. When he heard Matthew’s horse, he looked up from the wood he was chopping. He was stripped to the waist, and his corded muscles were streaked with sweat. Matthew’s eyes were drawn to the scars etched into the former slave’s chest. When Worthy turned to lay his ax on the woodpile, Matthew saw more scars crisscrossing his back.

“What brings you out here, Mr. Penny?” Worthy asked warily as he wiped his hands on his pant legs.

“Mr. Barbour filed his return to our petition. I want to read it to you and hear what you have to say.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s neither good nor bad. It’s merely a court document that Barbour had to file. Our petition accuses him of holding Roxanne illegally. If he didn’t disagree, we’d win without a fight.”

“I see,” Brown said. He sounded dejected.

“Mr. Brown,” Matthew said firmly, “I’m going to do everything I can to get Roxanne back.”

“I know,” Brown answered quickly. “It’s just . . . I guess I was hoping Mr. Barbour would just give Roxanne back once he saw I had a lawyer.”

Matthew dismounted and took a legal document out of his saddlebag. His chestnut mare lowered her head and began grazing next to the front door.

“Why don’t we go around back, where it’s cooler,” Worthy said. Matthew shucked his heavy coat and draped it over the saddle. Then he followed Worthy past well-tended rows of tomatoes, cabbage, beans, carrots, and lettuce.

“Those look good,” Matthew remarked.

“I’ll give you some ’fore you leave. Try the tomatoes with a touch of salt.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”

They walked down to the stream. Worthy had built a bench and placed it under the shade of an overhanging tree. Matthew drank a handful of water then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands and brow.

“I don’t see how you can work so hard in the heat of the day.”

Worthy laughed ruefully. “I been farming since I was owned by Major Whitman, and I been working in the heat of the day seems like forever. Besides, I don’t mind the heat. It reminds me of home.”

“Georgia?”

“Africa.”

“What’s Africa like?”

“Speaking now, Africa is mostly a dream. I’m not sure anymore what’s real and what my imagination’s painted in.”

“How old were you when . . . ?”

“When I was stolen away?” Worthy sat on the grass and rested his back against a tree trunk while Matthew took the bench. “Seventeen, I believe, but that’s guessing, too. I do recall living near Bambuk-Bure, where the traders came across the desert from Timbuktu to trade for gold. My father sold the traders goats. One day the raiders of al-Hajj Umar Tall attacked our village. My parents were killed. I never saw my sister again. I was captured and chained with the other slaves. They took us to the coast.”

Worthy laughed humorlessly. “I’ll tell you a funny story. In the harbor I saw a great ship belching smoke from its stacks. I fought like a wild dog then. My people had heard that the white men ate the slaves they captured. We didn’t know about steam engines. I thought the slaves were roasting in the ship’s ovens.

“You won’t believe me,” Worthy said with a wry smile, “but I was greatly relieved when they shackled me to my bunk instead of throwing me in the fire. But I didn’t truly believe I wouldn’t be eaten until I was sold to Major Whitman and he put me in the fields.”

“I’ve heard the journey across the ocean is hard.”

Worthy sobered. “Mr. Penny, that ocean voyage must be what the damned suffer when they arrive in hell. Hundreds of stinking bodies packed together in the hold of that ship. We was put in narrow bunks with hardly room enough to raise our heads. They lowered food down and we fought over it like animals. I reckon they feared we’d try to kill them if they come down, but the truth was none of us had the strength. I know I used up mine just trying to stay alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said.

Worthy’s laugh startled him. “Ain’t no reason for you to be sorry, Mr. Penny. Weren’t your doing. Now, why don’t you read me that paper you brung?”

Worthy’s story had depressed Matthew, but he was glad he’d heard it. The abstract arguments against slavery made more sense now that he knew Worthy Brown, and Caleb Barbour’s treatment of the Negro was more hideous in the context of Worthy’s miserable past.

“Now, remember, this is just what Barbour says. It’s not necessarily true. The judge will listen to the evidence both sides present in court and decide what happened based on the evidence, not on what we and Barbour say in the court papers.”

Matthew waited to make sure Worthy understood what he’d just said. As soon as Worthy nodded, Matthew began reading Barbour’s return to the petition for a writ of habeas corpus.

“‘Caleb Barbour, the respondent in said writ, makes the following return thereto, to wit: that he has the body of the said child described in the writ in his care and possession and under his control, to wit: in the county of Multnomah in the state of Oregon.

“‘That the petitioner and father of said child is of the African or Negro race and was a slave of, and owned by, the respondent for many years in the state of Georgia, where the right to hold slaves exists by the law of that state. That the said Roxanne was born in the state of Georgia as a slave and was also the property of this respondent.

“‘That in the year 1856, this respondent brought said slaves to the territory of Oregon as his servants and property.

“‘That in the year 1857, Oregon passed a constitution which, by its provisions, prohibited slavery. In that year, and for some time following, petitioner requested his freedom from respondent, and, in the year 1859, an agreement was entered into between petitioner and respondent to the effect following, to wit:

“‘That the petitioner would work for respondent for one year as a free person, but without pay, respondent to provide room and board for petitioner at no cost to him. And that this respondent was to keep Roxanne and to hold her until she came of age according to the laws of the territory, now state, of Oregon, to wit: eighteen years of age for a female. And that respondent was to hold Roxanne not as a slave, but as his ward.

“‘That this respondent has kept the child at a heavy expense while she was young and her service was of little or no value and now that she has arrived at an age when her services will be of some benefit, the respondent insists that he has the right to retain said child as his ward during her minority, as part compensation and remuneration for the expenditures made by him on her behalf.

“‘That this respondent was advised, after it became settled that the people would not be permitted to hold slaves in Oregon, to take petitioner and his child back to Georgia and there sell them, but refrained from doing so because of said agreement between petitioner and respondent, which respondent had reason to believe petitioner would abide by.

“‘Furthermore, respondent insists that it is not only his legal and equitable right to retain said child in his possession, but also that it would be far better for said child to be retained by him than to be placed in the hands of petitioner, who is poor and ignorant and unfit to have care and custody and bringing up of said child.

“‘And this respondent further says that the said child has always been well and kindly treated and used by respondent, but that said petitioner is somewhat harsh and cruel to the child.

“‘And this respondent further says he holds said child by no other authority than set forth above.’”

By the time Matthew finished reading Barbour’s answer, Worthy’s muscles were bunched and his mouth was set in a grim line.

“Those words are lies, Mr. Penny. I was never cruel or harsh to Roxanne. Never. She is my life. And I never made any agreement to give Roxanne to that man.

“And as for being poor, well, that you can see. But there is plenty of folks has got kids and is poor, and they ain’t unfit.”

“The judge won’t hold your poverty against you, Worthy, and I’m certain that Barbour alleged that you were cruel to Roxanne to put us on the defensive. What does concern me is the allegation that you agreed to let Barbour keep Roxanne as his ward in exchange for his promise that he wouldn’t take the two of you back to Georgia and sell you as slaves. If you did make a contract like that, it could complicate matters.”

“Mr. Penny, I never discussed that child staying with Mr. Barbour. And as far as going back to Georgia, Mr. Barbour always threatened to take us back when I brought up our freedom, but I never paid him no mind. He ran away from Georgia on account of his debts. I knew he wasn’t going back there. The only true thing in that paper is that I agreed to work for our freedom.”

Matthew sat silently, thinking. A bird sang and leaves rustled when another bird took flight. Matthew stood.

“You’re certain you’ve left nothing out?”

“That’s all I can think of, Mr. Penny. Mr. Barbour is a wicked man, and he’s keeping Roxanne to punish me.”

“Well, that’s it, then. I’ll draw up an affidavit for you to swear to, setting out your answer to his allegations. Then we’ll get the case set for the next term of court in September.”

“You mean I might not have Roxanne back until September?”

“Worthy, I want to be honest with you. There is no guarantee you’ll get her back then. The law is very slow at times. Even if we win, there can be appeals that can stretch the case out for months. You shouldn’t expect this matter to be decided quickly.”

Worthy looked furious for a second, then his rage departed as suddenly as it had appeared and he sighed.

“I’ll try to be patient. It’s just hard knowing Roxanne’s with that man.”

“I know it is, and I’m going to try my hardest to get her back. But you have to be prepared for the worst.”

THEY TALKED A LITTLE LONGER,
then Worthy put some vegetables from his garden in Matthew’s saddlebags and the lawyer went on his way.

Worthy watched Matthew disappear around a bend in the trail. He wanted to believe that Matthew would save Roxanne, but there were times when his belief in the possibility of justice wavered. He’d not had much justice since the raiders came to Bambuk-Bure, and it was hard to believe that his luck would change now.