Morning Sky (30 page)
“Not long. I didn’t figure ya’d be able to get out afore dark.” He checked the house and yard for evidence of observers. “Wouldn’ta been surprised if you hadn’t showed up at all. Figured he might have a bell or somethin’ rigged up to your door.”
Truth’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that. Thankfully, Mr.
Laird didn’t, either. Otherwise, I would have wakened the entire house when I opened the door.”
“Well, you’s safe, and we’ll be outta here come Friday.” He patted his pocket. “I did jest like you said. I went and got ever’thing set with the tickets at the train station today.”
She sighed. “Friday? I was hoping you hadn’t purchased the tickets.”
“Why? You changed yer mind ’bout goin’ home?”
Truth detected a hint of irritation in his voice. “No. Of course not. But Macia has taken ill again. She’s not going to be able to sneak out of the house with me if she’s unconscious. Just when I think we have things figured out, something else happens. How are we going to get her out?”
Silas fell back against the tree and breathed deeply. “I think we’s gonna be fine if I can talk Daisy into keepin’ them other girls outta the way. I gotta drive the Rutledges and Lairds to the theater Friday night. Once I gets ’em there, I’ll come back home ’stead of waitin’ fer ’em like I normally would.”
Truth’s heart raced. “And we can use the carriage for our trip to the train station?”
“Right. With all three of ’em out of the house, I can carry Macia downstairs to the buggy and get her on the train. You think you kin get her bags packed without anyone takin’ notice?”
“I’ll try. Macia’s begun sleeping most of the time again.”
“I thought she quit takin’ them pills Mr. Laird was givin’ her.”
Truth nodded. “I watched her take them out of her mouth and put them in a small silver box in her bedside table. Perhaps he’s figured out what she was doing and found some other way to medicate her. Do you think that’s possible?”
Silas shrugged. “You’s the smart one, but I figure if Mr. Laird sets his mind to somethin’, he’s gonna make sure it happens. Ain’t no doubt he wants to control her. She’s lucky she ain’t turned up dead like some of the others.”
Truth grasped his sleeve. “What? You never told me about anyone
dying
. You said the other girls got sick.”
“Um-hmm. They sure did. And most of ’em finally died.”
“And then what?” She shook his arm as though an answer would drop from his shirtsleeve.
He appeared confused by her question. “They shipped the bodies back to wherever they come from—so’s their folks could bury ’em properlike.”
“But didn’t the constables ever come and question anyone? Young girls don’t unexpectedly die with no one asking why.”
“Don’ know, but I never saw nobody ask no questions.”
“Didn’t any of the girls’ parents ever come and talk to the Rutledges or Mr. Laird after their daughters died?”
Silas kicked at a small mound of dirt beside the tree. “I don’ know nothin’ ’bout none of that. ’Sides, we ain’t got time to be worrying ’bout what happened back then.We needs to worry ’bout right here and now.
And I think you best get on back to the room afore someone finds out you’s missin’.”
Truth knew he was correct. A variety of questions came to mind, but she mustn’t jeopardize their escape with needless inquiries—at least not now. She could question him further once they were safely on the train and headed to Kansas.
Truth managed to return to the house without detection. She slipped upstairs and slowly turned the doorknob while recalling Silas’s comment about a bell. The door opened without so much as a squeak, and Truth sighed with relief as the latch slipped back into place.
“Where have you been?” The words cut through the heavy night air like a slashing sword. She whirled around and saw Mr. Laird outlined by the shaft of moonlight draping the room. He sat in the chair beside Macia’s bed with his hands tented beneath his chin. Truth didn’t know whether to run back out the door or speak with bravado. There was no way of knowing how long he’d been in the room. Fortunately, neither of the windows in this bedroom faced the carriage house. He couldn’t have seen her with Silas. Encouraged by that fact, she decided to speak boldly.
“I wasn’t feeling well. I went outside for a breath of air. I know I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, but I decided you wouldn’t disapprove. And I didn’t want to disturb you over such a simple matter.”
“You’re attempting to play games with me, Truth. We both know you weren’t supposed to leave this room, ill or otherwise. If you were in need of fresh air, you could have opened a window. Now why don’t you tell me exactly where you were and what you were doing?”
Her mind raced for answers as she attempted to sidestep his interrogation. But nothing, absolutely nothing came to mind. When she remained silent, he stood and approached her. Pinching her chin between his forefinger and thumb, he stared into her eyes. “No need. I already know what you’re up to, and it’s not going to work.”
Her heart pounded an erratic beat that made her feel as though she might faint. “You do?” Her words were no more than a hoarse whisper.
“Of course. I know everything that goes on around here.” His eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. “You forget that I have eyes and ears everywhere, and I can already tell you that you will not succeed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Laird.”
His scowl created deep creases in his forehead. “Daisy isn’t nearly so brave as you. She crumples at the slightest suggestion of losing her employment. Need I say more? You had best heed my words, Truth. Do not leave this room without my permission. Are we perfectly clear?”
She nodded, and he strode from the room with an air of authority. “But only for the moment,” she whispered as he closed the door.
A prayer was on her lips when she fell asleep that night, and she was praying when Daisy arrived with Macia’s breakfast tray the next morning. She rubbed her eyes as she greeted Daisy and took the tray.
“You sho’ lookin’ bad this morning. Didn’t you sleep none last night?”
Truth shook her head. “Not much. Have the other girls gone downstairs to breakfast?”
“They’s down there, and I’s gotta be on my way pretty quick, too.”
Truth motioned her closer. “Mr. Laird came to Macia’s room last night. He said you told him about our plan.”
Daisy leaned close to Truth’s ear. “I told him you wanted me to go an’ fetch the constable so’s he’d help you get away from here. He was twistin’ my arm and told me he was gonna discharge me if I didn’t tell him what you was up to. I didn’t tell him nothin’ ’bout your real plans.”
“Thank you, Daisy. Do you think he believed you?”
“Oh, yeah, he believed me. I told him you give me a letter to take to the police station but I burned that piece of paper in the stove. I told him I sho’ weren’t gonna bite the hand that feeds me.”
Truth pulled Daisy into a quick embrace before she left the room. She prayed nothing would happen to cause Daisy any difficulty. Though she folded and packed some of Macia’s belongings, Truth dared not empty the wardrobe or drawers. What if Mr. Laird or Mrs. Rutledge happened to look in the wardrobe and found it void of any clothing?
The next two days passed in a monotonous pattern punctuated by occasional surprise visits from Mr. Laird and one from the Rutledges on Friday evening before they departed for the theater. Mrs. Rutledge was dressed in a midnight-blue silk gown, with her hair piled high and adorned with bejeweled hairpins. Although her heavily rouged cheeks caused her pale skin to look eerily ghostlike, the woman seemed pleased by her own appearance. She stood before the mirror in Macia’s bedroom, smiling at herself as she adjusted her brooch and smoothed her hair.
Mr. Rutledge tugged at his tie. “We promised Marvin we would look in on you before departing,” he told Truth. “He’s waiting for us downstairs. Come along, my dear.”
Turning away from the mirror, Mrs. Rutledge followed her husband toward the door. “I believe supper is going to be quite late this evening. Seems Daisy had the stove too hot and burned both the potatoes and the roast. I’m certain she’ll bring a tray once the other girls have eaten.”
Truth secretly reveled in the news of burned food. Daisy
had
found a way to keep the others downstairs so the trio wouldn’t be seen departing. Waiting only until she heard the horses and carriage at the front of the house, Truth began yanking Macia’s clothes from the wardrobe and shoving them into her trunk and bags.
She did her best to rouse Macia, and though her attempts met with limited success, she managed to get her dressed. Rather than endeavor to fashion Macia’s hair, Truth located a tall-crowned straw bonnet adorned with wide silk ribbons and flowers and tied it under Macia’s chin. The hat was large enough to hide a multitude of hairstyling gaffes.
After what seemed far longer than the hour’s wait Silas had projected, Truth heard the sound of footfalls racing up the rear stairway. Truth opened the door a crack and peeked out. She sighed with relief as Silas rushed down the hallway and into the room. He gave Truth an appreciative nod when he spotted the trunk and valises packed and ready to be loaded into the carriage.
Completely unaware of the turmoil surrounding her, Macia was propped into a sitting position in the overstuffed chair beside her bed. Her bonnet was slightly askew, and she snored softly while Silas removed all of the baggage.
When he returned up the stairs for the final time, he gathered Macia into his arms. “You lead the way, Truth, but be sho’ you close the door after me.”
She did as he instructed, careful to make certain none of the girls had wandered into the kitchen before waving him onward. The entire process had taken nearly a half hour—longer than either of them had anticipated. However, stealth had been required throughout the process, which was something they hadn’t taken into account. And though Truth had grave concern over the welfare of Amanda, Lucy, and Ren-nie, she knew taking any of the girls into her confidence would have been foolhardy. She longed to tell Daisy good-bye and thank her one last time. Instead, she tucked a farewell note, along with several dollars of Dr. Boyle’s money, into an envelope and placed it behind a stack of dirty dishes in the kitchen, which was a place no one else would look.
Truth stepped into the carriage and pulled Macia across the seat, hoping to hold her in an upright position until they arrived at the train station. She motioned for Silas to hurry, and she held onto Macia’s arm as Silas urged the horses into a run. They made good time until they neared the train depot, where the streets were congested with both people and conveyances.
“What are we going to do, Silas?”
“Ain’t nothin’ we can do ’cept hope I can get this carriage through. Only other thing would be to leave all the luggage an’ carry Miss Macia to the train.”
“No. We’d draw attention—two coloreds carrying a white woman down the street. Even if we made it to the train, someone would likely remember or report us to the police.”
Somehow Silas managed to keep the horses calm. They arrived at the station with barely enough time to load the baggage and themselves. However, as they attempted to board the train, the conductor questioned them regarding Macia. “If you don’t know what’s ailing your mistress, perhaps she should take the train tomorrow. I can exchange the tickets for you.”
“Oh no, sir. If I don’t get her on this train, she’ll never forgive me. She’s got to get to Kansas for her wedding.”
The conductor stroked his chin. “Getting married, huh? She’s probably suffering from a bout of nerves. I would, too, if I thought I was going to have to go live in the hinterlands. You might be doing her a favor to keep her here in the city.” He chuckled at his own remark while Silas swayed from the burden of Macia’s weight. “Go on and board the train. You’re holding up the line.”
Truth wanted to tell him that he was the one holding up the line, not them, but she refrained and hurried ahead of Silas to find seats for the three of them. There were few passengers when they entered the car, and Truth helped Macia stretch across the seat in a reclining position and then covered her with a blanket. Silas and Truth sat side-by-side on the seat opposite Macia.
Truth poked Silas in the side. “What about the horses and carriage?”
“I paid a friend to take ’em back to the school. He’s already on his way. I told him to tie the horses outside the carriage house and leave right away. Don’ want Mr. Laird to see ’im, but I don’ wanna be accused of being a horse thief, either.”
“A wise idea, Silas. It appears you thought of everything.”
Truth settled in her seat and watched as the remaining passengers edged down the aisle. A well-dressed white man stared at them for a moment and then nodded at Truth as he continued through the car. His eyes were the color of a soft blue sky, but his look sent an icy chill racing down her spine.
T
hey’d been on the train only a short time when the older blue-eyed man approached them. He sat on the seat across the aisle from them, unconcerned that his long legs blocked the aisle. Without the formality of introduction, he focused his attention upon Truth and inquired about Macia’s condition. Though Truth thought his prying questions rude and disconcerting, the man’s fine suit and southern drawl were a signal she’d best remain submissive. Besides, Silas had begun to tap his foot at breakneck speed, a sure sign that he was on edge.
The man appeared satisfied when Truth explained they were accompanying Macia home due to her unexplained illness. However, his interest was rekindled when he discovered they were returning to Kansas. “Truly? That’s where I’m going. I realize I haven’t introduced myself. Cummings—Bentley Cummings, from New Orleans.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence while Mr. Cummings expectantly waited.
Truth lightly touched Macia’s blanket-covered arm. “This is Miss Macia Boyle. My name is Truth, and this is Silas.” There was no need to give their last names—a Southern gentleman wouldn’t expect last names from colored folk.