Faith (23 page)

He nodded. “Perfect sense.” His lack of energy dogged him. “I can walk you a little way before I must lie down again.”

So they walked.

“Before we left camp,” Dev said, trying to lift her spirits, or both their spirits, “I received a package from my mother. She sent me a book.”

“From thy favorite bookstore on Saratoga Street?” Faith followed his lead, turning away from the war, away from their quest to New Orleans.

“Yes, Robert Burns’s
Poems and Songs
.”

“Why that book?”

“I think she thought it would be a change of pace for me, a needed one.”

Faith looked up, beaming suddenly. “My mother sent me more stockings.”

He laughed out loud. “Mine did too!”

She was glad to hear him laugh. They must not forget how to laugh. The war would end . . . someday. She wondered if he ever thought of Armstrong and then dismissed the question. Of course he did, just as Shiloh was never far from her mind. It wasn’t possible to forget. What could she do to help these two men reconcile? Anything? Nothing?

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

In the sky the smoke from thousands of kitchen chimneys provided the first sign of their nearing New Orleans, a city of over one hundred fifty thousand, rivaling the population of Cincinnati, which Faith knew so well. As the boat sped along, she and Honoree stood on the upper deck, watching the smoke become clearer. The nearer they got, the more impatient she felt to be onshore and going about finding Shiloh.

They turned a bend in the river and caught the first glimpse of the city. Honoree clutched Faith’s hand. “I’m not getting my hopes up. She might be anywhere by now.”

“Yes. But we know where to ask about her here. I’m sure the auction house kept records of . . . transactions.”

Honoree’s nails bit into Faith’s skin. It was terrible to face that Shiloh had been sold like a head of cattle. A sudden flush of anger filled Faith. She prayed for God’s peace, but the anger stung and didn’t ebb.

“It won’t be long now.” The colonel appeared beside them at the rail. Still a bit drawn, he had mostly recovered from his fever and could move his arm normally. But he’d lost weight.

Soon the steamboat joined many other gunboats docked at the quay in the busy harbor of New Orleans.

The shipmaster stopped the three of them as they prepared to walk down the gangplank. “Our stay here will not be more than today and tomorrow,” he said more politely than he’d spoken to them when first they boarded. “I am here to pick up supplies, and then I will head upriver again.”

Faith curtsied. She understood Grant needed supplies before the army could head east to defeat Lee. Or she thought that was what the general intended to do.

“Please try to take care of your business today,” the shipmaster continued. “I want to debark tomorrow unless some hitch comes up.”

“Yes, sir,” the colonel replied for them. He helped her and then Honoree step onto land. Faith swayed a little and he caught her elbow to steady her.

“I need to get my equilibrium again,” she said brightly.

Honoree also accepted his steadying grasp.

They were soon walking up the crowded street, looking for a cab. Before long, they came upon a carriage. “Need a ride, gentleman?” The black driver stood in the shade near his horse.

Faith reluctantly decided her best course of action was to let the colonel
 
—a man and an officer
 
—do the talking for them. She and Honoree traded discreet glances, agreeing to this.

“Yes. We want to go to the auction house where slaves were sold,” the colonel said.

The driver halted in midstep. “They not selling any more slaves now that the Union Army come. And Lincoln sent out his proclamation. I’m free.”

“We are looking for a kidnapped free woman of color,” the colonel continued.

The man looked shocked. “Oh yes, sir, I know right where you want ta go. The St. Louis Hotel, not far from here
 
—corner of St. Louis and Chartres.” The driver waved them into his carriage, climbed up on the seat, and slapped the reins.

They bumped over the cobblestone street along the waterfront. Before long, they came to a large, elegant limestone hotel in the classic Federalist style. The colonel helped the two women down. Faith noted that he appeared surprised at the imposing hotel as a venue for slave auctions. “This is where the auctions took place?” he asked.

The carriage driver nodded, his face set in grim lines. He then asked if they wanted him to wait.

“Yes, please,” the colonel replied. He led Faith and Honoree inside the hotel lobby.

The well-dressed clerk, an older man with slicked-back
silver curls against his dark skin, greeted them with politeness but regarded them dubiously. “We are full up with Union officers, sir,” he explained.

“We don’t want a room. We are wanting to see the records of the slave auctions that took place here.”

The man looked confused.

“We are seeking my sister,” Honoree spoke up.

The clerk’s expression became uncomfortable. “I’ll have you conducted to the auction office. We are still in the business of selling whenever anybody has anything to sell. Though this isn’t an auction day, the auction master is in.” The man waved at a young boy who was standing nearby. “Please show these women and this gentleman to Monsieur Dupont in his office.”

The young boy with light skin and big brown eyes led them along a hallway and into a spacious, ornately gilded rotunda with a large chandelier. She’d read about this place in Harriet Beecher Stowe’s
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
. The grand setting jarred Faith. Why would they build this grand hall for such a sordid purpose?

“This where the auctions take place,” the boy said. “I guess slave auctions won’t be happenin’ anymore.” He looked at them hopefully.

“Not as long as the Union controls New Orleans,” the colonel replied.

The boy nodded and brought them through the rotunda to a hallway with one small office on each side. “Monsieur Dupont, these people here to see you,” he called. The boy waved them inside the office to the right and then departed.

Sickly white and bent, Monsieur Dupont looked older
than the clerk at the front desk. He rose with arthritic slowness, eyeing them suspiciously. “How may I be of assistance?”

Faith looked to the colonel. He would no doubt get more information from this man, especially since the colonel spoke with a Maryland accent.

Colonel Knight stepped forward. “We are trying to locate a slave whom we believe was sold at an auction here before the war.”

“In mid-1858,” Faith murmured.

“Yes,” the colonel continued. “She’s very beautiful with light skin, golden-brown hair, and large green eyes.”

“A quadroon perhaps?”

Though it would doubtless shock the colonel if he realized Faith knew the meaning of the term, Faith was well aware that Creole or French Louisiana society traditionally held “quadroon balls,” where mulattas were chosen to be mistresses of wealthy young men. This society even had names for the different shades of color: octaroon (one-eighth black) and quadroon (one-fourth black).

“Perhaps,” the colonel said mildly. “We would like to find the record of the transaction of her sale and the name and location of her purchaser.”

They needed the man’s help, and Faith appreciated Colonel Knight’s diplomacy.

“You say mid-1858?” Dupont inquired. “Do you have a name?”

“Shiloh,” Faith spoke up. “Her name is Shiloh Langston.”

Dupont turned to a bookcase that supported five shelves of black leather-bound volumes. He made a tutting sound
as he scanned them. Then he selected one of the tomes and ponderously carried it over to his desk.

Faith and Dev with Honoree just behind them moved closer to the man, who was flipping through the pages, muttering to himself.

Faith felt a bit light-headed trying to control her excitement, vying with uncertainty.

More pages turning, more muttering.

Faith reached back for Honoree’s hand.

Dupont’s hair fell forward as he leaned farther down. “Ah, here it is. July 22, 1858. Young mulatta named Shiloh. Oh yes, I remember now. She caused quite a stir. The bidding went high, very high. She sold for twenty-six hundred dollars.”

Faith swayed a bit, thinking of Shiloh in that elegant room reduced to less than human, less than God made her.

“Who brought her here for sale?” Honoree asked, gripping Faith’s arm.

He looked up at them. “Who are you to question me, girl?” Dupont turned to the colonel. “I thought you just wanted to know who bought her.”

“That is what I asked,” the colonel affirmed, moving forward and casting a scolding glance at Honoree.

After a pause, Dupont replied, “She was bought by William LeFevre, a local planter.”

“Where is his plantation located?”

The man suddenly appeared wary. “Why are you seeking this quadroon?”

Faith wished he would stop calling Shiloh that. She was so much more than the color of her skin. “Shiloh was born free but was abducted and brought here.”

“That’s a serious charge, young woman,” Dupont blustered.

“Come now,” the colonel said. “You and I both know that this type of thing happened. And you have stated the motive.”

“I?” Dupont looked and sounded insulted.

“Yes. She sold for over five times the amount a young woman would normally have garnered,” the colonel said. “Now who was the seller?”

Dupont went to shut the book.

Colonel Knight drew his pistol. “Do you want to fall afoul of the Union Army, sir?”

The auction master froze in place.

Faith moved closer to the colonel. “We did not come seeking revenge, Monsieur Dupont. Just information to lead us to Shiloh.”

“I was thinking of justice, not revenge,” the colonel said evenly. “Now tell me the name of the men who brought Shiloh for sale.”

Dupont’s face reddened. But he ran his finger down the page. “Claxton. Ned Claxton and his brother, Jay.”

“Thank you, monsieur,” Colonel Knight said and slipped his pistol back into his jacket pocket.

Dupont stared after them as they left his office.

They retraced their route through the grand rotunda, now empty and silent except for their footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

At the hotel’s front desk, Honoree approached the clerk. “Pardon me, but do you know where a planter named LeFevre lives?”

“He’s well known, miss. His plantation is Cypress Bank, south of the city on Cypress Road. But he will have gone to war.”

“Thank you,” Honoree said.

The three of them walked outside into the sunshine.

“What now?” Dev asked, already anticipating the answer he’d get.

“We go to Cypress Bank,” Faith responded, as expected.

“We can’t leave the city on our own. We will need more soldiers.” Dev felt his irritation rising again.

“But New Orleans is under Union control,” Honoree objected.

Another carriage passed, hoofbeats on cobblestones.

“But we’ll be leaving the city,” Dev countered. “The Navy took control of the city, and it is under martial rule. But when we leave the city, we could be in danger. I am only one man. And we could be plagued by bushwhackers. Don’t you recall being shot at on the river?”

“He’s right, Honoree,” Faith admitted. “And thee will have to stay here. I don’t want to take a chance thee might be . . . insulted.”

Dev deemed taking women into hostile territory unwise at the very least but especially in Honoree’s case. He gazed intently at the girl, silently reiterating the wisdom of this caution.

Honoree lifted her shoulder toward them and stood stiffly apart.

Faith touched her arm.

“I know. You’re right. I’ll stay on the boat.” Honoree turned to Dev. “You think you can get some soldiers to go with you?”

“I’ll apply to the Union commander here in the city, Major General Banks.” Dev waved to the carriage driver, who again had found a shady tree to wait under. “First I’m going to take you ladies back to the ship.”

He could see Faith wanted to object, but she merely pursed her lips.

“Our ship will be leaving tomorrow,” she began.

“This will take time. I’m a stranger here. But I’ll return with soldiers or the promise of them. If the
Rattler
must leave before our business is done, I’m sure we can find another transport north. General Grant’s passes of transport will get us places on any northbound gunboat.”

Again he saw that this did not sit well with the two women.

Faith leaned closer to him. “Colonel, will thee give me thy word that thee will not go to Cypress Bank without me?”

“It would be better if you left this to me.” He stared at her sternly. “But I know you well enough by now not to attempt that. However, we will be entering a threatening region, and you must give me
your
promise to obey me without question or hesitation.”

Faith gazed into his eyes. “Very well.”

The agreement was settled, yet he sensed the women’s frustration. So near and still another obstacle to overcome.

The thought occurred to him for the first time that if they did find Shiloh here, Faith might leave the war and go home. This was exactly what he’d wanted; nonetheless, he found it unpalatable. He sucked in the humid delta air and shut his mind to these feelings.