Indigo (19 page)

She also knew that without Galen's generosity, it might be years before the community could scrape together the funds necessary to build a good school, and even longer to pay Foster a fair and decent salary. It was also certain that Galen's offer tonight had more to do with his so-called craving than anything else, and therein lay the rub. What were Galen's true intentions? Had he come back to Whittaker to expose the traitor or just to throw her well-ordered life into a spin? It would be a lie to say she didn't find him exciting. He was very exciting, easily the most exciting man she'd ever encountered, but she wasn't so naive as to believe he actually had more in mind than just a dalliance. Even though they were of the same race, socially they were of different classes and very rarely were the boundaries crossed. Admittedly, she enjoyed the sparks that flowed between them, but she did not plan on succumbing to his charms and being left with a broken heart.

However, the woman he'd brought to life that October night did want to see him alone, if only for a short while. Tonight, as he sat across the table from her, all she could think about was how wonderful it would have been had they dined alone, just the two of them. And when he made reference to his fondness for maple syrup, and for her, she was certain she would choke to death.

Yes, secret parts of her basked in the knowledge that Galen cared for her, desired her, but in spite of Galen's declared fondness, she was certain that she was nothing more than a diversion, something to ease the boredom until he returned to his wealthy station in life. That she was highly attracted to him made no difference.

She waited until the clock on the fireplace mantel struck ten, then she shrugged back into her cloak and went out to hitch up the mule and wagon.

Hester had no trouble driving the relatively short distance to the Folly in the dark. She'd been conducting passengers for over a decade now and knew the country roads like the back of her hand, even at night. As she neared the big house though, she began to question the soundness of her decision. Had he been simply teasing? Had she read more into his speech than he'd intended? She wanted to think not, but she didn't see his coach as she approached. What if he weren't home? She'd been raised very conventionally by her aunt, and Katherine was undoubtedly flipping in her grave knowing Hester was out visiting a man in the middle of the night. Hester also hadn't considered the fact that his hired help might turn her away from the door, but she did now. Lights could be seen burning behind some of the curtained windows, and there were a few coaches and buggies in the drive. What if he were entertaining? She doubted he'd want to be pulled away from his guests.

She sat a moment and tried to figure out what she should do. In the end she drove up into the yard and set the brake. She hadn't ventured out on such a cold night just to turn tail and run all because of a few "what ifs."

She tied the reins to the hitching post then confronted her next dilemma: which door to use, front or back? She didn't want anyone to know about her nocturnal visit, so she chose the back door.

Once there, Hester gathered her courage and knocked.

No response.

She knocked again, this time a bit harder. In April the night air was cold. She'd dressed warmly as always, but had begun to notice the air's sharp bite penetrating her clothing. She knocked once more. Nothing. Telling herself she had no intentions of standing out there all night, she turned to head back to her wagon. The sound of the door opening made her halt. Light streamed out into the night, framing a dark-skinned woman of about fifty years. She wore the black dress and white apron of a servant. Her expression was curious as she took in Hester standing on the bottom step. Her voice was musical and sounded foreign as she asked, "May I help you?"

Hester fought down her nervousness. "Um—yes—I wish to see Mr. Vachon."

The woman surveyed Hester intently. "Is he expecting you?"

Hester gave a tiny nod. "I believe so."

The servant assessed Hester a moment longer, taking in the worn bonnet and the cloak that had seen better days, then said, "Well, Mr. Vachon is engaged at the moment and I've no idea when he'll be done. But you may wait."

Hester could just about imagine what the woman thought of her, so she replied, "No, I'll return another time. Thank you."

"Just a moment," the woman called gently.

Hester stopped and looked back.

"What is your name?"

"Hester Wyatt."

The woman's face registered surprise. "Hester Wyatt?" The woman smiled and opened the door wide, "Come in Hester Wyatt. My name is Maximilia, but call me Maxi. I've been very anxious to meet you."

The remark so surprised Hester that a myriad of questions in her head all shouted to be asked at once, but rather than stand out in the cold trying to make sense of it she let herself be ushered inside by the smiling Maxi.

The back door led into a large, well-equipped kitchen filled with the scents of brewing coffee and baking bread.

"You know of me?" a puzzled Hester asked as she followed the servant through the kitchen and down a long breezeway that led to the main portion of the house.

"Everyone knows of
'la petite
Indigo.' You're all Galeno has talked about for months."

Hester stopped in mid step. The revelation was unnerving. "Months?" she croaked.

Maxi nodded yes, then laughed softly. "You, my chiquita, have done what no other woman in this whole, wide world has accomplished, though scores have tried."

"And that is?"

"Bring the dragon to his knees." Then she laughed again and resumed their journey, proclaiming loudly, "I love it!"

Maxi ushered Hester into a beautifully furnished sitting room, then left Hester seated while she went to fetch Galen. Hester stared around at the delicate statuary, the fine prints gracing the walls, and the chandelier hanging from the ceiling sparkling like winter ice. Being in such elegant surroundings reminded her of the one time she'd been summoned up to the big house in Carolina. Of course being a slave, she hadn't been allowed to sit while she waited for the mistress to appear and put her to work, but Hester remembered standing stock still in the middle of the room, afraid to move lest she accidently bump something and break it. She felt the same way now. She was glad when Maxi returned.

"He will be with you in just a moment. Let me take your cloak and your bonnet. Would you care for some tea?"

Hester shook her head as she handed over the garments and the mittens she'd worn over the black crocheted gloves. "I don't want to make more work for you, I simply wish to speak with Mr. Vachon and return home."

"It is no trouble, chiquita. It's cold outside, I'll bring tea and honey."

Maxi departed and a short while later, Galen walked into the room.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting,
petite."

"No apology needed. I haven't been waiting long."

She seemed unable to move and so did he.

He broke the thick silence. "There are some friends I'd like you to meet."

She didn't really want tonight's visit to be the subject of tomorrow's gossip. "Galen, I'm not certain that's a sound idea."

"They will guard your secrets like the Sphinx. I promise." He then held out his hand. "Please?"

She knew without having known him very long that he did not say please often, if at all. She asked, "Can we talk afterwards?"

"We'll do whatever you desire afterwards."

She ignored his "golden spell and those smiling eyes, saying, "Then yes, I'll meet your friends."

His "friends" turned out to be some of the most important and wanted men on the Road. She found herself introduced to William Lambert and George De Baptiste, two highly placed individuals in the Michigan Underground, and founding members of the Order of the African-American Mysteries. She'd seen both men from afar at rallies and lectures but had never been formally introduced. She found their presence in Galen's smoky study to be absolutely amazing.

She looked up at Galen, hoping her astonishment did not show too much but he simply smiled and continued introducing her around. The names of some of the others belonged to men known only to her through Mr. Garrison's
Liberator
and the competing
Frederick Douglass's Weekly,
men like Alan Pinkerton from Chicago, and the Virginian, John Fairfield, whose reputation for slave stealing was surpassed only by Galen's. Each of the eight men in Galen's low-lit study held a unique prominence in abolitionist circles and all were worth their weight in bounty gold for "crimes against the South." Were a slave catcher like Shoe to stumble upon the gathering he'd be rich overnight.

When the introductions were concluded, another man stepped out of the shadows and made his presence known to Hester for the first time. He came forward, but did not offer his identity. He was an older man, tall, thin. His blue eyes seemed to have a fire burning in them as they met Hester's. Recognition flared through her with such force she felt her knees weaken.

He looked down at her and said, "I'm sorry about the passing of your aunt. Katherine Wyatt was a good Christian woman. The Cause lost a valiant soldier; she will be missed."

Hester was so nearly overcome by the sincerity in the man's eyes, she could only whisper, "Thank you. I miss her also."

Galen said softly. "Come
petite,
let's let them finish their business."

Afterwards, Galen led her back to the sitting room and Hester immediately took a seat on one of the embroidered back chairs. Her hands were still shaking. She asked, "The man with the blue eyes, who was he?"

"John Brown."

The reply rendered her speechless for a second. "Not the John Brown—of Osawatomie?"

"Yes, one and the same."

"Galen, he's the speculator who stole me out of Carolina."

"Then I am forever in his debt..."

The softness of his words slid over her senses. She had to force herself to remain focused. "Why is he here?" Then, remembering her manners, said, "I apologize, that's really none of my business."

"He's traveling around garnering support for war."

Hester's face showed her surprise. "War? When?"

"Later this year. He wants to attack a government arsenal in Virginia and arm the slaves in hopes of plunging the nation into war."

"Can he succeed?"

Galen shrugged. "Who really knows. I'm not convinced, neither are Lambert, De Baptiste, or Douglass for that matter. The Old Man says he has recruits, but no one is certain of their true numbers."

Hester thought about the startling revelation. Could John Brown really bring down the house of slavery? Brown's raid into Michigan last December to liberate eleven slaves had been hailed as one of the most daring events in antislavery history. Brown and his small regiment took the fugitives on a 2,500-mile dash across the country to Canada in spite of the dogged pursuit by state and federal authorities. Slave catchers had also joined the chase, motivated by the three-thousand-dollar reward offered for Brown's arrest by Michigan Governor Stewart. The journey spanned three grueling weeks, but with the help of Quaker Road agents in Iowa, Alan Pinkerton's railroad friends in Chicago, and the men of the Detroit Order, the fugitives safely reached Queen Victoria's Canada.

"Will you help him?" Hester asked.

"As much as I am able," Galen replied.

"Why did you introduce me to them? Their being here is not the type of information one should bandy about."

"I am aware of that, but I wanted you to meet them so they would know you. Should anything ever happen to me and you find yourself in danger, feel free to call upon them."

"Galen, I don't need looking after."

"We all need looking after at some point in our lives."

"But they know nothing of me. Why should they take me under their protection?"

"Because I've asked them to, as a favor to me."

"They owe you that much?"

"We all owe each other that much."

Hester scanned his eyes and saw the seriousness reflected there. She realized he'd meant every word.

"Promise me you will seek them out should the need arise."

He was so compelling, she had no other choice but to agree.

She asked, "Will your friends be spending the night? I—don't wish to keep you from them."

He shook his head no. "In fact, more than likely they have all disappeared back into the night even as we speak, so you have me entirely to yourself for as long as you desire."

Maxi interrupted them momentarily to bring in the tea and Hester sighed with relief. At home she'd been fairly certain of her abilities to handle Galen, but with him sitting across the room viewing her so boldly, she could hardly keep her breathing even. Her nerves rattled even more under his lazy scrutiny, and to hide her nervousness she picked up the pot and poured. "Would you like some?"

He unfolded his lean frame from the chair and crossed the room to where she stood. She handed him a delicately made cup and matching saucer. He took it from her hand, but set the offering on a nearby table. Then, to her surprise, he relieved her of her own cup. He set it next to his own. "Give me your hand," he commanded softly.