First Dawn (37 page)
Jarena eagerly began to fill a crate. The Francises didn’t have much, but it would help.
Moses folded his hands and met Dr. Boyle’s warm gaze. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on short notice.”
Dr. Boyle laughed as he glanced about the room. “As you can see, there are no patients awaiting my care so I’m not causing anyone undue hardship. However, I must admit I’m intrigued by your request.”
Beads of perspiration had formed along Moses’s upper lip, and he pulled out his handerchief. “What I have to tell you is difficult—especially since I’ve waited until now.”
“What can I do to help?”
Moses wiped his face and slowly tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket. He had hoped the perfect words would come to mind. There was no denying he needed a compelling explanation for his regretful behavior. He was, after all, a wordsmith—a man who made his living crafting words into stories that would sell newspapers. Yet at this moment, language failed him. There was no explanation—persuasive or otherwise.
“I’m colored.” The words whizzed through the air like two arrows aimed at a bull’s-eye.
Dr. Boyle rocked back in his chair. “Colored? Whatever are you talking about? Have you lost your senses?”
“I’m not white—not like you.” Moses shifted in his chair. “Oh, I appear as white as most, and I’ve as many white ancestors as colored, perhaps more. However, we both know that if any Negro blood runs through my veins, I’m not considered a white man. And I don’t want to be considered white. I’m not ashamed of my people. In fact, you’ll recall I had planned to make my home in Nicodemus when I first arrived.”
Dr. Boyle nodded. “I do remember.”
“Everything else you know about me is true. My background, education, work at the various newspapers—all of that information is accurate. When I met Carlisle on the train, I should have told him.”
The doctor looked wary. “Why didn’t you?”
“Honestly? I wanted to see if he was genuine in his desire to go off and serve with colored soldiers. At first I thought he was just another sanctimonious white man seeking to fulfill himself in the name of God. By the time I learned that wasn’t true, I was already passing as white. With each day, it grew more difficult to speak the truth. But I can no longer live this lie.”
“Something in particular bring you to this point or merely a guilty conscience?”
“I know you’re angry, and you have a right to be. What I did was completely inappropriate and unacceptable. If you never speak to me again, I couldn’t fault you.”
Dr. Boyle’s countenance softened. “And what good would such behavior accomplish? Besides, what you perceive as my anger is actually pain—pain that you didn’t believe you could trust me or my son enough to speak the truth. But now you have, and for that I am thankful. However, I’m curious why you’ve decided to tell me at this juncture.”
“To clear my conscience, but also because I’ve deeply offended Truth. You see, on several occasions I’ve tried to talk to her. In fact, I attempted to convince her to write news articles for the paper. However, she mistook my interest in her. She thinks I’m a white man endeavoring to . . . to . . . get her in my bed.”
“Ah, I see.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re interested in courting Truth, and you want her to know you’re an acceptable suitor?”
“Exactly. What has caused my honesty is a guilty conscience and my selfish—but honorable, I assure you—interest in a woman. You see, Dr. Boyle, I was hoping you might speak to her on my behalf.”
“
Were
you, now?”
“Rather presumptuous of me, I know—especially in light of the circumstances.”
Dr. Boyle gave a hearty laugh. “I think
you
should be the one who reveals your true heritage to Truth. I’m willing to confirm that you’ve told me these facts, but beyond that—well, I’d say that you’re on your own.” He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “What if she doesn’t believe you? Have you planned for that event?”
“I have papers that show my lineage, but I fear she’ll think me a man ashamed of his race. An unforgivable fraud. If so, I doubt she’ll ever consider me as a suitor, but I must at least try. I do care for her very much.”
“Then why don’t you come over this evening? I’ll explain that you want to talk to her and that she has nothing to fear. The two of you can visit in the parlor. She’ll likely feel more relaxed if she knows I’m aware of your presence and that someone is nearby should you attempt to . . . uh, accost her,” he said with a lopsided grin.
Moses stood suddenly and grasped Dr. Boyle’s hand. “Would eight o’clock be acceptable?”
He nodded. “We’ll expect you.”
The day was warm, and there was a lightness to his step as Samuel contemplated exactly what he would say to Truth that evening. He didn’t want to alarm the girl, yet if she was already fearful of Moses, his announcement of the visit might cause her undue concern. Waiting until shortly before Moses’s arrival would likely be best, he decided while sauntering past the general store. He tipped his hat at Mrs. Johnson before turning his attention to a horse galloping into town.
“Slow down, young fellow!” Dr. Boyle hollered as the man reined his horse to an abrupt halt. “You’ve got that horse in quite a lather.”
The young man yanked his wide-brimmed hat from his head. “Dr. Boyle! I was hoping to see a familiar face when I arrived.”
“Jackson! What are
you
doing in Hill City?” Samuel could feel the blood drain from his face. Was Macia making secret plans? He’d heard no mention of Jackson in weeks. Jackson dismounted and stood before him with a wide smirk on his face.
“I can see you’re surprised. I imagine Macia will be taken aback, also.”
Samuel clenched his jaw. “So she wasn’t expecting you?”
“No.” The smug grin remained on Jackson’s lips. “I didn’t answer her letters. It’s been quite some time since she’s corresponded.”
“And
that’s
why you’ve come? Because Macia ceased writing to you?”
Jackson looked down the street and curled his upper lip with disdain. “Not exactly. There are some other matters that have come to my attention. But let’s not discuss them here. I’m anxious to see your new home and the . . . well, this poor excuse for a town.”
Samuel led the way into the livery. “Jeb! Come meet Jackson Kincaid.”
Jeb rounded the corner of a stall and ambled toward the two men.
“This young fellow is from back in Georgetown. Jackson, this is Jeb Malone.”
Jeb nodded at Jackson and glanced at the sorrel. “You rent that horse from Chester Goddard down in Ellis?” Without waiting for an answer, Jeb began to assess the animal. “Chester don’t take kindly to having his animals mistreated, Mr. Kincaid.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I was anxious to arrive and rode the animal hard. He’ll survive without problem.”
Jeb directed an icy stare at Jackson. “You Macia’s beau?”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far.” He tugged at his collar and looked uncomfortably from one man to the other. “We kept company when she lived in Georgetown, but I don’t think I could be considered her beau. I believe there are too many miles between us for such an arrangement.”
“Then what brought you all the way to Hill City?” Jeb’s voice was full of suspicion.
“I’d say what brings me to Hill City is none of your business. I find your behavior offensive, Mr. Malone.” He examined the bottom of his boot and wiped it on the straw. “Are all of the locals as brash and rude as this man?” he asked Dr. Boyle.
“I find Jeb neither brash nor rude,” Samuel answered. “He is, in my opinion, a refreshingly forthright, hardworking young man.”
Jeb’s chest swelled at the accolades. “Why, thank you, Dr. Boyle.”
Turning on his heel, Jackson angrily strode toward the doorway. “Since Mr. Goddard is your friend, I assume you know how to care for his horse.”
“That I do,” Jeb yelled back. “Nice to see you, Dr. Boyle,” he said as Samuel followed Jackson. “Give my regards to Macia.”
Jackson winced, but Samuel smiled and waved, delighted Jeb Malone had held his ground against the likes of Jackson Kincaid.
“Is that you, Samuel?”
Margaret’s voice came from the kitchen as the two entered the house. He wondered if she was assisting Truth with some new dish for supper. “Indeed it is, my dear. Do come join me. We have a visitor.”
Margaret emerged from the kitchen and removed her soiled apron as she approached them.
“Who is it, Mother?” Macia called from the kitchen.
Samuel placed a finger to his lips and cautioned his wife to remain silent. “Don’t spoil the surprise for Macia.” Jackson grinned at Margaret and stepped behind Samuel to add to the surprise.
“Oh, Samuel, I don’t think this is a good idea. Macia isn’t dressed to receive . . .”
Before his wife could complete her sentence, Macia appeared in the hallway, wearing a print dress soiled with flour. Her damp and disheveled curls were drooping like a bouquet of wilted flowers. As she drew near, Jackson stepped from behind her father. His smile vanished when he saw her.
“Macia! What has happened to you? You’ve changed into a common housewife.”
Macia’s eyes shone with anger, and she clenched her flour-dusted fists. “That’s hardly possible, since I’m a
single
woman. Notice of your arrival would have prevented this catastrophic event.” She tucked a wisp of hair behind one ear, looking like she was about to break into sobs.
“My dear,” Samuel said, “I didn’t expect to find you in such a state of disarray.” As soon as he’d spoken, he wished he could snatch back the words, for he’d only made matters worse. “We could leave and return in an hour or so.”
“The damage is already done.” Macia pushed Jackson aside and raced up the stairs.
“Do come into the parlor and have a seat,” Margaret invited. “I’m certain Macia will return once she’s had an opportunity to properly prepare herself.”
She edged to her husband’s side and stood on tiptoe, her lips pressed close to Samuel’s ear. “Did you not even
think
before bringing him here unannounced?”
Samuel had offered to leave and return at a later time. So far as he was concerned, there was little else that could be done to change the awkward circumstances. He shrugged apologetically and directed a disheartened smile at his wife. “Perhaps Truth could bring us a glass of lemonade.”
Margaret frowned at her husband as they sat down in the parlor. “Truth isn’t here. That’s why Macia and I were in the kitchen preparing supper. Harvey came rushing home a short time ago with word that a large group of settlers arrived in Nicodemus. Walt Johnson heard the news in Ellis and stopped by the newspaper office to give Moses the information. Harvey said Moses had a previous engagement scheduled this evening—though I still can’t imagine what it would be. In any event, Moses asked Harvey to go to Nicodemus and gather information for the newspaper. Of course, Truth was excited to hear that there were new arrivals and asked if she could accompany him. I gave her permission to go along.”
Samuel massaged his forehead. “So Truth went to Nicodemus with Harvey? She’s spending the night with her family?”
“Yes. Is something wrong, Samuel?”
“No, no. I . . . well . . . I had planned . . .” He jumped up from the settee. “I . . . uh, there’s a matter that needs my immediate attention. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
The bell above the door rattled a pathetic clink as Samuel entered the newspaper office. Moses stood searching through type cases with a metal composing stick in his hand.
“Seems as though our plans for this evening have gone awry,” Samuel told him.
Moses laid the composing stick across the cabinet. “How so?”
“My wife tells me you sent Harvey to Nicodemus.”
He nodded. “A difficult decision. I truly wanted to go and visit with the new settlers, but I knew if I didn’t talk with Truth tonight, I might lose courage.”
“Truth went to Nicodemus with Harvey. She wanted to visit her family, and my wife thought it a fine opportunity.”
Moses’s face was filled with disbelief. “Truth traveled to Nicodemus with Harvey? So I can’t talk with her this evening?”
“I’m afraid not. And to make matters even worse, Macia’s beau from back in Kentucky arrived unexpectedly.”
He grinned. “And Truth isn’t there to prepare supper.”
“It’s going to be a long evening.” Samuel ran his hand over his face and sighed.
Moses looked like he was trying to contain his laughter. “I guess I’m glad I won’t be there, then. I’ll make arrangements with you when Truth returns.”
“And you’ll tell the others your secret, too?”
“And the others. Everyone should know the truth.”
S
upper was less than perfection. Margaret insisted upon completing the preparations and serving the meal while Macia and Samuel entertained Jackson. Samuel briefly gave thought to offering his services in the kitchen rather than keeping company with Jackson, but then he remembered his lack of cooking skills. Perhaps he would take the opportunity to see if Jackson Kincaid had changed for the better in the last few months.
When Margaret scurried off to check something in the kitchen, Samuel turned his full attention to their guest. “So what is the news from Georgetown?”
Jackson folded his arms across his chest and groaned. “There’s been a mass migration of coloreds moving out of Georgetown and the surrounding area. In fact, we’ve lost a number of our sharecroppers. You can imagine the impact upon our crops this year if we don’t resolve this matter.”
Samuel couldn’t stop a wry grin from crossing his lips. “If you expect to turn a profit, you may be required to work in the fields yourself.”
“Or force the return of those who had no right to flee,” Jackson countered.
“Have you forgotten the war, Jackson? Slavery has been outlawed. Everyone now possesses the right to come and go at will—even your colored sharecroppers.” Beside him, Samuel heard Macia gasp at his harsh tone.
“Not if they owe my family money,” Jackson grunted. “And I have papers with me proving all those who left have outstanding debts with my family.”