Morning Sky (19 page)

With zeal and passion, she explained that the Topeka newspaper had begun to report a growing opposition to the Exodusters. “Materials and tools needed to build additional barracks and houses for the new arrivals have been stolen by whites who do not want the barracks built within a mile of the city. Many of the Kansas farmers are now unwilling to go into the fields alongside Negroes, and prejudice is beginning to rear its head.”

For a full fifteen minutes, Grace held the attention of the crowd until one of the men shouted, “What you want
us
to do ’bout it?”

Grace didn’t know who had asked the question, but the interruption didn’t deter her. “I’m glad you asked. I’d like to challenge all of the residents of Nicodemus to help the new arrivals to Kansas, and I’ve thought of several ways we can help. Certainly we should be praying for them. In addition, I believe we could take up a collection and send money, or we could send a portion of our crops—or both. We know what these folks need. After all, we needed the same things when we arrived in Nicodemus.”

“Next thing we know, you’ll be wantin’ us to move ’em all out here!” one of the other men hollered.

Grace nodded. “I thought of that idea, also. We could sponsor several families and help them get started if they wanted to come on out to Nicodemus. Of course, we could celebrate Emancipation Day and just go back home and forget the fact that our brothers and sisters are suffering. I guess it’s up to all of us what we’ll do, but Moses has agreed to oversee any efforts that we decide upon.”

As Grace stepped down from the platform, young Emily Kemble came running forward holding a few coins in her hand. “This here’s my money from cleaning the chicken coop every day. You can have it to help them people.”

Emily’s spontaneous generosity was all that was needed. Soon others enthusiastically embraced Grace’s idea and joined in with promises of assistance. When the crowd had finally scattered, Moses drew near and smiled. “What is it the Bible says? ‘And a little child shall lead them’? I’m mighty thankful for Emily Kemble’s generous heart.”

“So am I. Before I stepped up there to speak, I asked God to open the people’s hearts. I surely didn’t expect Him to use one of the children in order to answer my prayer, but I’m glad that’s how it happened.”

Grace glanced at Emily, who was now surrounded by a group of children. “And just look at Emily. She’s pleased as can be that she was first to give her money.”

“She should be proud of herself, and so should you, Grace. You gave an excellent speech. In fact, I think you even surprised yourself, didn’t you?”

“I suppose you’re correct. Now, let’s hope folks don’t soon forget that they’ve promised to help.”

“No need to worry. I’ll keep it at the forefront of their minds by including a story in the newspaper. I’ll even put it on the front page, if you like.”

Jarena drew near and clasped Grace’s hand. “And your speech has prompted me to get busy writing those articles we discussed. I’m proud of you, Grace.”

“Thank you.”

Soon the band gathered on stage and began tuning their instruments as folks gathered around anticipating the entertainment. The air quickly filled with music, and each time the band stopped to rest, the crowd entertained themselves with singing and dancing. As daylight turned to dusk, a couple of men lit a huge bonfire and folks gradually grouped together, the young children drawing closer to their parents as darkness settled.

Jarena sat next to Moses and gathered courage in the nighttime shadows. “I wondered if you’ve received any additional reports regarding Victorio and his renegades.”

Moses continued to stare at the blazing bonfire. “Only sketchy reports—nothing definite.”

Lilly stepped toward them and sat down beside Jarena. “Let’s don’t forget that you haven’t had a letter from Thomas in quite some time. It seems to me that you two have been cut loose and set adrift, what with Truth off enjoying herself in New York and Thomas hunting down Indians or perhaps . . .”

Jarena knotted her hands into tight fists. “Don’t say it, Aunt Lilly. Thomas is
alive
. I know it! And certainly Truth didn’t anticipate being gone more than two weeks. Seems as though you take delight in twisting the truth.”

Lilly’s laughter rippled in its usual manner. “Now, now, Jarena. I know the truth is difficult to accept, but there comes a time when one must face the facts of life. I’m merely pointing out that you and Moses have very likely been left without prospects for the future. Why not consider each other?”

“Aunt Lilly!”

Moses shook his head. “You’ll get nowhere with your brazen matchmaking attempts, Miss Lilly. So unless you wish to alienate your niece, I suggest we sit back and enjoy the evening without any further discussion about Thomas or Truth.”

Ezekiel strode toward them carrying a large piece of Miss Hattie’s gooseberry pie. “Did I hear you mention Truth? You get a letter from her, Moses?”

“No, though Dr. Boyle has received several letters from the folks who operate the school, and they say Macia’s still unable to travel.

Dr. Boyle says they mentioned sending Truth back home without Macia. He didn’t want that to occur, so I know he wrote a hasty response. I must admit that I don’t understand why I haven’t heard from Truth.”

“She’s likely thinking she’ll soon be home and there’s no need to write,” Jarena said.

A light breeze carried a trail of smoke from the bonfire in their direction, and Lilly snapped open her fan. “Given any opportunity, I would think that a young woman planning to wed in September would return on the next train out of New York. Any girl who’s anxious to marry, that is.”

“Part of me tends to agree with Jarena, but I’m getting worried. Perhaps I should have given her more detailed instructions about contacting me while she was gone.”

Ezekiel slapped Moses on the back. “No need to blame yerself. Didn’t none of us think she’d be in New York long enough to be writin’ letters.”

CHAPTER
17

Hill City , Kansas

E
nough! She’d had enough of this place and these people. Something had to change. Lilly stomped over to the chest of drawers to retrieve her nightgown. Today hadn’t gone as she’d planned. Jarena and Moses simply would not listen to reason. They both continued to cling to the misguided notion that they were in love with some person who was off gallivanting around the country. Nonsense. Jarena and Moses belonged together.

As she removed her nightgown from the chest of drawers, Lilly noticed an envelope lying atop her dressing table. Her hand trembled as she examined the handwriting. She searched her memory, hoping to summon a remembrance of the unfamiliar script. Who could be writing to her? With the exception of Claire, her dear friend in New Orleans, no one knew she was living in Kansas. Beads of perspiration formed along her upper lip as she sliced open the envelope with Bentley’s silver letter opener, a beautifully engraved remembrance she’d removed from his valise on one of his many visits to her home. She pulled out the letter and immediately scanned the last page for a signature. Her tense body relaxed as she examined the name—Marian Bordelon—Claire’s sister.

She moved the flickering lamp close to her bed and began to read. As she finished the second page, Lilly clasped a hand to her chest. Claire’s lifeless body had been found near the bayou, and Bentley Cummings had left New Orleans. How could it be? Obviously, Bentley was determined to find Lilly—at all costs. Lilly had no doubt Bentley had either killed Claire or paid someone else to commit the murder. She also had no doubt he would kill Marian if he thought circumstances warranted such action. Lilly’s hands had once again begun to tremble. She startled at the sound of Georgie thumping against the adjoining wall as the boy tossed about in restless sleep.

Surely Claire must have grown increasingly worried when Bentley had begun to follow her. Why hadn’t she expressed those fears to Lilly or taken some measures to protect herself? Of course, what could she have done? Leave New Orleans? That had been Lilly’s own decision, but it seemed unfair that Claire need even consider such an option. After all, Claire had done nothing to deserve Bentley’s wrath. Nothing but remain Lilly’s friend and confidante. Nothing but withhold information from him. And now Lilly was left to bear the guilt of Claire’s death and accept the fact that Marian had also been placed in harm’s way. She wondered if Marian had maintained her silence or if she had told Bentley what he wanted to know.

The room was stifling, and Lilly got up and crossed the floor. She raised the window and stared into the dark silence. “If I were Marian, I would have told him.”

A coyote howled in the distance, and Lilly shivered. An omen? She hoped not. If she were a godly woman like her sister, Jennie, she’d now be on her knees in prayer. Of course, if she were like Jennie, she probably wouldn’t be in this predicament and she wouldn’t need to ask for such help.

Marian’s letter didn’t say when Bentley had left New Orleans—only that he had headed for Kentucky after remembering Lilly had told him of family living there. She wondered if the entire letter was a ploy. Had Bentley stood over Marian and dictated the words? A rush of fear exploded in her belly like water flooding a fractured dam.What if Marian had given Bentley her address? What if Bentley was on his way to Hill City instead of Georgetown? He could be arriving at any moment.

When sleep wouldn’t come, she paced the length of her room and reread Marian’s letter until the pages were dog-eared. What was it her mama used to say? Things always seem worse at night? Would it be better in the morning? Lilly didn’t see how. If only her mind would settle long enough to develop some sort of strategy.

Dark circles underscored Lilly’s eyes the next morning when she glanced in the mirror, and for the first time since she’d arrived in Hill City, she took little care with her appearance. She took the back stairway to the kitchen and prepared breakfast in a daze. The children arrived in the kitchen a short time later, and with the exception of Alma’s unkempt hair, they were presentable. Lilly noted Georgie’s look of disapproval when she placed a bowl of oatmeal before him.

He glared at the congealed oats. “I want griddle cakes.”

“The only way you’re going to get griddle cakes this morning is if your mother prepares them. Now quit pouting and eat, Georgie. I’ve had little sleep, and I’m not going to argue with you today. That goes for all three of you.”

Alma picked up her spoon. “I like maple syrup on my oatmeal, Miss Lilly.”

Lilly retrieved the crock of syrup and placed a dollop in the center of all three bowls. “Now eat up, all of you.”

Georgie scowled but did as he was told.When he’d finished eating, he pointed his spoon at Lilly. “How come you look like that today?”

“Like what?”

“Messy. That’s how Mama looked before you came here. Now she comes to breakfast all neat and tidy, and you look like she used to.”

Could this day get any worse? Lilly removed his empty bowl from the table. “Thank you, Georgie. On top of everything else, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear this morning.”

“What was it you wanted to hear, Lilly?” Mrs. Nelson walked into the kitchen and placed a kiss on Alma’s plump cheek. “Oh my. With those dark circles around your eyes, you resemble one of those raccoons Georgie’s been attempting to trap as a pet. From all appearances, I would guess that you must have gotten in quite late last night. Did you sleep at all?”

Wonderful! Now she had Mrs. Nelson, who had no sense of style or decorum, assessing her appearance. The nerve of the woman—saying
she
looked like a raccoon.

“Did you find the letter I placed on your dressing table?”

Lilly nodded.

“Not bad news, I hope. I didn’t recognize the handwriting. Your other letters . . .”

Mrs. Nelson stopped midsentence. Apparently she’d been snooping again. Lilly wondered if Mrs. Nelson had steamed open and read Marian’s letter before placing it on her dressing table. Lilly wouldn’t put it past the woman. Oh, she looked harmless enough, but beneath Mrs. Nelson’s broad pin-tucked bodice beat a meddlesome heart—of that Lilly was certain.

Once the children had scampered outdoors to play, Lilly poured a cup of coffee and joined Mrs. Nelson at the table. Though Lilly’s behavior would have been considered unacceptable in most homes, Mrs. Nelson hadn’t yet developed the art of setting boundaries for Lilly within the household.

After settling into her chair, Lilly took a sip of the hot brew. “I hope this will serve to keep me awake.”

“I’m most anxious to hear about the celebration in Nicodemus. Do tell me about it.”

The last thing on Lilly’s mind was the Emancipation festivities, but if she hoped to elicit information from Mrs. Nelson, she’d need to spend a few minutes entertaining the woman first. Unfortunately, Mrs. Nelson had no meetings or appointments scheduled, and what Lilly had hoped would take only a few minutes to explain lasted much too long. The moment Lilly attempted to move the conversation in another direction, Mrs. Nelson quizzed her for more details.

Mrs. Nelson poured herself another cup of coffee. “And who pays for all of these festivities and the speakers to come to the celebration? I know Mr. Nelson was asked to donate funds to the Fourth of July celebration.” Finally a question Lilly could warm to. Money! “I believe most of the speakers volunteered their time, and the supplies were likely donated. I must say it was kind of your husband to contribute funds to help the community, although his generosity doesn’t surprise me. From the first time I laid eyes on your husband, I knew he was a kind man who would help others. Of course, one must have the funds available in order to extend such kindness.”

Mrs. Nelson stirred an additional spoonful of sugar into her cup. “ ’Tis true. George is one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. Sometimes he’s much too kind and generous—always ready to give a handout to anyone who approaches him. I’ve told him over and over that one day he’ll wish he had all the money he’s given away.”

“And I’m certain he disagrees.”