Blessing (31 page)

“Don’t matter to me,” the runaway muttered. “Just get me out of the city as fast as you can. Please.” She slipped under the seat, curling up her legs to fit.

Blessing fastened the trapdoor, climbed in, and tapped the ceiling. The carriage rolled away instantly. Blessing had no trouble figuring out this young slave’s dilemma. Beautiful and expensively dressed, she was appallingly some master’s mistress.

The heavy responsibility for this young woman’s safety settled over Blessing. As she rode through the city streets, she secretly longed to be free of the burdens she carried—orphans, runaways . . . the past.

Gerard slowed his mount as he rode into Sharpesburg. He’d been intrigued by how few people lived in the miles just beyond Cincinnati. Along the way, one obviously lonely woman had come out to speak to him and had assured him that the population was growing all the time.

Sharpesburg appeared to be a small town with a few farmers and a blacksmith. Ahead he saw a sign that read
Cathwell Glassworks
. When he’d told Mrs. Mather he was going to ride around outside the city, she’d smiled and brought up Blessing’s family without his saying a word. He hadn’t appreciated her knowing look.

He must be more careful in the future. Previously he’d been relatively unconcerned whether people knew of his interest in the widow or not. She was an engaging woman,
but being linked with a woman who might do any unconventional thing at any moment didn’t recommend itself to him. He reminded himself that had a job now and was building his reputation in Cincinnati.

Yet he’d found himself drawn here to the glassworks. Only to gain insight on how best to protect her from Smith, of course. . . . He paused in the open yard. Small purple flowers bloomed all around in the wild grass. He dismounted and secured his horse to the hitching rail. What could be more natural than to stop and ask for a glass of water?

Gerard knocked on the door, and it opened before he could reconsider.

He suffered a shock. Gaping, he recognized the young woman who peered around the doorframe. Though she’d changed for the better, this was the poor beaten girl he’d carried to Blessing’s carriage that night late last year.

The girl exclaimed wordlessly and shut the door in his face.

He stood there, vibrating with astonishment and still absorbing the fact that she was here.

The door opened again. This time a tall, very striking woman gazed at him. “I’m sorry. Rebecca tells me that thee knows my daughter Blessing.”

So much for his ruse. “Yes. I’m Gerard Ramsay.”

“Ah. Welcome, Gerard Ramsay.” She said his name as if she already knew who he was. “I am Blessing’s mother, Honor Cathwell. Won’t thee come in?”

What else could he do? He stepped inside.

“Please warm thyself,” the lady invited, gesturing toward the cozy fireplace. “Spring is coming, but the ride from Cincinnati is still chilling.”

Gerard obeyed her suggestion, warming his hands and face. He sat in what appeared to be the cabin’s largest space, a combined sitting room and dining room with a vaulted ceiling. Two doors at the far end no doubt led to bedrooms, and there was a loft over those chambers. He looked around, but Rebecca was nowhere in sight. “I hope I didn’t upset the girl.”

“Rebecca is shy with everyone. She said both thee and Blessing helped her the night she left her former life.”

Such honesty, and spoken as if taking in a prostitute were commonplace for the Cathwells. “Yes, I happened to be . . . there.” Now he’d admitted to being on the waterfront. Not a very respectable place.

“What brings thee to Sharpesburg?” she asked, sitting down and picking up a man’s large plaid flannel shirt for mending.

“Curiosity.” Why try to dissemble? This woman’s sharp gaze was astute and penetrating.

She smiled. “Blessing has never mentioned thee. But Joanna told me about thee and how thee has helped my daughter. Thee protected the orphanage during the riot. I am grateful.”

“Anyone would have done the same.”

She knotted a thread and snipped it with small, silver-plated scissors. “We both know that isn’t true. Otherwise the riots wouldn’t have continued for three days unabated.”

He was left with nothing to say. Or nothing he could bring himself to say.

Honor Cathwell threaded her needle again and bowed her head over her work. “Please take a seat.”

Once more he obeyed, then stared into the flickering fire, unsure how to begin, regretting that he’d come. Thoughts,
memories of Blessing, played through his mind. Here was where he could discover what Smith knew, but he couldn’t bring that up out of the blue.

Finally Honor finished stitching the shirt and looked up. “My daughter is a singular woman, so I understand thy being inquisitive about her family. But thee would do better merely to ask her the questions thee might have.”

Her insight silenced him completely.

The door opened. A woman of color entered without knocking, carrying a tray laden with food. Behind her came two white men, one who looked to be in his midthirties and one in his fifties. The latter was clearly Blessing’s father—the resemblance was plain. Both men also carried bowls of food covered with crisp white dishcloths.

Honor rose. “I don’t know if my daughter mentioned it, but her father and her adopted cousin are both deaf. They can speak but can’t hear. We communicate with sign language.”

Gerard tried to process this as he watched her agile fingers move quickly, greeting the men. She helped the woman set down her tray and distribute the bowls and platters across a large round table. Others, appearing to be more Cathwells, entered the room as well. Blessing’s brother and sisters?

Honor introduced Gerard to the group in word and sign, then turned to him. “Thee will of course join us for our noon meal.” It wasn’t a request, merely a generous statement of fact.

He nodded, unable to take his gaze from her fingers.

The older man kissed Honor’s forehead and approached Gerard with an outstretched hand. “Welcome,” the man said in an odd voice. “I’m Samuel Cathwell, Blessing’s father.”

Gerard pulled himself together and accepted the man’s hand. “Good day,” he said, raising his voice as if to be heard. In the same second he realized how ridiculous that was. Embarrassment scalded his face.

The younger man also welcomed him in a similar voice. “I’m Caleb, Blessing’s adopted cousin.”

Honor summoned Gerard to sit in the chair beside her. Blessing’s family and shy Rebecca gathered around the table. Samuel bowed his head and began to thank God in his unusual voice. In such a curious household, Gerard had half expected the woman of color to sit down with them, but she’d gone out with a cheery wave.

When the prayer ended, Gerard contrasted his own family to Blessing’s unaffected and lively one. The two couldn’t have been more different. As the younger members of the family began questioning him about his life in Boston and Cincinnati, something inside him softened.

Yet it was like being plunged into an interrogation, though not an unpleasant one because he understood its source. The younger Cathwells had a thirst for information about the world beyond this little bump in the road. And Blessing’s sisters asked questions as intelligent as their older brother’s. The food—sausages, corn bread, and a chunky sweet cabbage relish—was simple but excellent. He began to relax.

Blessing looked out the carriage window and made a face. A strange horse was hitched in front of her parents’ home. “Friend,” she addressed the young woman hiding under her seat, “I’m afraid my parents have a visitor, so thee must stay
hidden until I see who it is. In broad daylight I don’t dare move thee into the secret room in the glassworks.”

“I’m fine,” the girl said in a tremulous voice, not sounding fine at all.

The driver halted the carriage and opened the door to help Blessing out.

“Just keep silent no matter what,” Blessing cautioned the girl as she stepped down. “Judson, please stay here. I’ll see if thee can drive the carriage into the barn so we can move her unseen. And I don’t know how long it will be.” Then she went to the door and entered the house.

She stopped just inside, petrified. Gerard Ramsay was eating cherry pie with her family. Her mind whirled.

“Blessing, what a sweet surprise,” her mother said. “My second today.” She smiled meaningfully. “Come in and shut the door, dear. Thee came just in time for dessert.”

Just in time for disaster. Blessing’s thoughts went immediately to the runaway concealed in her carriage. She couldn’t move her till Ramsay had left or was distracted. The poor girl must be in pain curled up for so long. “Could Judson move my carriage into the barn?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Honor said. “Thy father has a large order he’s been stacking there.”

Blessing sent her mother a pleading look.

Honor caught it. “But perhaps thy driver could park the carriage near the back barn door and unhitch the team there and let them graze.”

“Miss Blessing!” Judson’s voice called out. The panic at its edge turned everyone’s heads. Blessing hurried to the door. She opened it and her stomach dropped.

Slave catchers had arrived.

She moved quickly to confront them as they climbed out of their wagon. “There’s no need to get down. Thee isn’t welcome here.”

Her family, including Rebecca, filed out behind her. Yet she was most aware of the two hard-looking men in front of her and of Ramsay so nearby.

One hitched up his belt, heading toward her carriage. “We’re chasing a gal that run away from her master last night.”

“I hope thee is unsuccessful,” Blessing said, her parents and Ramsay drawing nearer to her.

“We know you folk help runaways,” one catcher said.

“How is that?” Honor asked. “None has ever been found here.”

“We been paid—” one began.

“Hush up,” the other interrupted. “We think you got a runaway in your carriage.”

“In my carriage?” Blessing repeated. Her family and Ramsay formed a half circle around the carriage door.

The second catcher pushed through. “Yeah, and we’re going to look—”

“Does thee have a search warrant?” Blessing challenged, moving between them and her carriage.

“Don’t need one to search a carriage,” the other one asserted, shoving his way through.

“Thee is in error,” Honor said, taking a step forward.

“That’s too bad,” one said. “We’re looking. The reward should be a hefty one for this girl. She’s supposed to be quite a looker. And you Quakers won’t do nothing to stop us.”

Blessing’s mind raced. There must be nonviolent means by which she could drive these men away.

Gerard watched this drama wordlessly, trying to figure out what was happening. But he didn’t have time for analysis. Blessing’s expression shouted,
Help!
He moved forward, placing himself directly between the two strangers and Blessing. Raising his fists, he said in a commanding voice, “I’m not a Quaker. Step away from the carriage.”

One stranger chuckled in a nasty way; the other sidestepped him, pushed through the Cathwells, and opened the carriage door.

Gerard yanked the man back and slammed a fist into his face. The man dropped like a weight. The other landed a glancing blow on Gerard’s ear.