Honor (15 page)

Samuel nodded. What objection could he raise?

A groom held the reins of both horses. Honor asked the breeder to lead one apart. She walked around the horse and motioned for Samuel to come closer.

He didn’t want to but complied anyway.

Honor pointed out various facts about the horse, lifting hooves and asking the groom to lead it up and down while she watched its movements closely. She repeated the process with the second horse.

Samuel found that he enjoyed observing how intent his wife was and how much she appeared to know about horses. He did not like the marked attention the horse
breeder and the groom were paying her, however. He reined himself in, not letting this show.

“This is a good pair,” Honor said. “Shall we begin bargaining?”

“Go ahead,” he signed.

The dickering went on for several minutes. Finally Honor, Samuel, and the breeder agreed upon a price.

As the two of them walked back to their inn, Honor turned heads. Samuel glanced at her. She was leading the horses and totally unaware. Why didn’t she ever seem to notice the attention she garnered? Maybe she just didn’t show it, because she certainly couldn’t be oblivious to it.

When their inn came within sight, Samuel saw the dandy from the riverboat lounging around the front of the building—like a bad penny. A fire lit in his stomach. The journalist raised a hand in greeting and hurried to join them. This man was like a burr Samuel couldn’t shake off.

Honor greeted him with a smile.

Samuel gritted his teeth and raised a hand.

Soon Honor was showing the dandy the finer points of their new team of horses. Samuel felt like a fifth wheel on a wagon.

Yet his wife signed everything they said. Or he thought she did. He tried to ease up, let it pass over him, but he couldn’t.

The hostler for the inn came to take the horses to the nearby stables for the night. The dandy followed them inside, and Honor let him kiss her hand in parting.

Samuel felt a muscle jumping at his temple. With the
barest nod to the journalist, he took his wife’s hand and led her toward their room.

One look at Honor’s fixed expression told him she did not appreciate his curtness. And she would not long remain silent about it. That much he knew about his wife.

U
PSTAIRS,
H
ONOR WAS GLAD
to find their room empty. Royale must have taken Eli for a walk. So now Honor would be able to say exactly what she wanted. Samuel closed the door behind them, and as the latch clicked, she turned to confront him. “Why does thee behave so rudely to me?”

Her husband looked away, hanging back near their stacked luggage.

She stamped her foot to insist on his attention.

He raised his eyes, resentful.

“Every time I am near a man, thee behaves as if thee doesn’t trust me. I am not encouraging men to notice me, flirt with me.”

Samuel stared at her and said nothing.

“Thee is my husband. I am not looking for . . .” She stopped, not knowing how to go on. What did she mean
to say?
I am not looking for a lover
? Heat flushed through her whole body at the very thought of such illicit behavior.

She approached him and took the large hand that made hers feel so small. Touching him set off those unusual sensations in the pit of her stomach. If only they had been given time to get to know one another. Their forced and rushed marriage made everything harder. “I gave thee my promise. Is that not enough?” She searched his dark eyes and read his pain and shame.

An urgent rap on the door interrupted them. Before Honor could open it, the rap repeated, sharp, insistent, prodding her. She whipped the door open. “Yes?” she asked, flustered at the interruption.

The portly, red-faced innkeeper stood panting. “We got trouble. I found my laundress unconscious outside. And your maid and boy’ve been snatched.”

For a few seconds the words didn’t make sense; then Honor sucked in air and choked.

The innkeeper slapped her on the back.

Samuel gripped her shoulder and urged her to look at him. “What is it?”

Honor signed the man’s words and returned her attention to the innkeeper. “How did this happen?”

Breathing hard, the man was having a hard time speaking. “I ran down the street, looking, and then up here.” He bent, bracing his hands on his knees, panting. “Come.” He motioned. “The laundress saw it all.”

Honor signed this and grabbed Samuel’s hand, pulling him toward the door. They followed the innkeeper down the narrow flight of stairs, through the dimly lit common
room—eliciting surprised looks from the few men sitting there, including Sinclair Hewitt—then through the kitchen and out the back door.

In the small rear garden opening onto the alleyway, Honor saw a large, rawboned black woman sitting on a wooden chair, bent with her head in her hands, moaning. “Oh, Lord, Lord, have mercy.”

The innkeeper sank onto another chair against the back wall of the inn. “Tell them what happened. Quick, girl.”

The woman looked up and began wringing her hands. “Oh, ma’am, it was awful. Two men, two white men, come walkin’ up the alley. Your maid, she was talking to me while I worked, and the little boy, he was playing with a ball.”

The laundress suppressed a sob, and Honor resisted the urge to shake words from her.

“The men come up to us, and then one grabs your maid and clamps his hand over her mouth, an’ at the same time, the other one hit me over the head with somethin’—a stick . . . I don’t know. When I open my eyes agin, they both gone. Oh, Lord.”

Honor could barely take this in. Nonetheless, she signed it all to Samuel, who looked aghast. “Why has this happened?” she cried.

Rocking back and forth in distress, the woman looked up. “Don’t you see, ma’am? Slave catchers gone and took her to sell South. She pretty and almost white. They can get three, mebbe four times what a regular gal go for. They don’t care that she got a manumission paper. Oh, Lord, save her.”

Royale, kidnapped. Honor gagged. She turned her head and suffered a sudden bout of retching. Samuel hovered just behind her. She swiftly forced her fingers to sign the rest of the dreadful news. He pulled her against him, cradling her shoulders in his strong hands. She pressed a hand over his fingers and held a handkerchief to her mouth, forcing back the instinct to begin moaning with the other woman.

Her mind rioting with fear, she wrestled herself into control and addressed the innkeeper. “Why would they take Eli?”

“To keep her from calling for help,” the laundress said, each syllable charged with outrage. “They can threaten to hurt the child if she don’t do what they say. That’s the kind of dirty trick people who kidnap free people do. God-forsaking, wicked men.” The woman spit on the sparse wild grass near her bare feet.

“We must alert the watch,” Honor said and signed.

“I already sent a boy for them.” The innkeeper mopped his brow.

“Ma’am, you gotta work fast and find her,” the laundress said, rising. “If they cross the river, you never find her again. She tole me about how you set her free. You gotta save her.” The woman strangled Honor’s arm. “The life they gon’ sell her into ain’t worth livin’.”

Honor felt the urge to retch again and sucked in a deep breath.
Father, help. Keep my Royale safe.

A uniformed officer wearing a badge strode up the alley with the messenger boy at his side. “What’s happened here?”

The young officer’s callow face did not reassure Honor. What could one man do against this evil that had come against them? She and Samuel must do more. “Innkeeper, please tell the law officer what has happened and describe Royale and Eli. I am going to get help and start looking.”

“Yes, we need help,” Samuel agreed. “But who?”

Taking Samuel’s hand, Honor ran back into the common room. How could she get help from a town of strangers? She halted in front of the young journalist, exclaiming, “Sinclair Hewitt, slave catchers have kidnapped my maid and our little boy!”

The man leapt from his seat, as did the two other men who had been drinking ale next to him. “When did this happen, ma’am?”

“Just now! I don’t know where to look!”

A voice hailed Honor from across the room. “Honor Cathwell, this is the hand of Providence.” Honor recognized him—the recorded minister from yesterday’s meeting. “We met yesterday. My name is George Coxswain. I just arrived to visit thee and thy husband to talk business, and I heard thy voice. What is this? Thy maid has been snatched?”

Faith leapt within Honor. God had known what wickedness was coming and had already dispatched help. The realization spun her whirling emotions.

Samuel stood behind Honor, one arm around her shoulders, his strength bolstering her, helping her go on.

Honor stifled tears. An emotional outburst would not help. “Yes, and our nephew. We must find them.”

“Describe thy maid,” Coxswain said.

All gazes turned to her.

The authority in the Quaker’s voice galvanized her. “Royale is near my height, very light skin, golden-brown hair, and green eyes. Pretty. Very pretty.” Her voice quavered on the last two words.

“The life they gon’ sell her into ain’t worth livin’.”

He looked shocked. “Thee should have been more careful with her. She’s worth thousands to unscrupulous men.”

“That’s right,” Sinclair Hewitt agreed, gripping George’s hand and introducing himself. “They’ll be heading to the river.” Hewitt turned to the other men. “Will you help find this woman and child?”

A chorus of agreement lifted Honor’s hopes. “Ask anyone you see. Alert everyone. A young mulatta and a dark-haired white boy, three years old.”

Hewitt gripped Honor’s hand with one of his own and rested the other on Samuel’s shoulder. “I’m going to start looking and spread the word. I’ll notify the papers in town. Many eyes will be needed to find the girl. We must find her before these dastards take her across the river.”

“We must find her before nightfall,” George Coxswain amended. “I will alert the meeting. The old will pray and the young will search.” He turned to join Hewitt. The other men hurried after them and out the front door.

The laundress appeared beside Honor. “I’m goin’ to my preacher. There be free blacks here in this city, and they will look too. She come to our church yesterday. Everybody know what she look like.”

“Stop!” The badged officer charged through the door
from the kitchen. “We can’t have people taking the law into their own hands.”

Suddenly furious, Honor swung on him. “I will do whatever it takes to find my maid.”

The man looked aghast, his thoughts evident.
A lady, speaking so forthrightly?
“Your husband is the one who is responsible for the girl’s safety, not you,” he said harshly. “You’re just a woman.”

Honor had never been so tempted to slap someone. She held herself straight, unclenching her hands to sign what the man had said.

Samuel signed back. “Tell him if he talks to you like that again, I’ll teach him manners.” Then her husband raised a fist toward the officer.

The man stepped back but continued speaking belligerently. “Stop that black woman from leaving! We can’t have free blacks running through town. Except for going to and from work, they’re supposed to stay in their own neighborhood down by the wharf. This could start a riot.”

Honor glared at him. “It should start a riot when a free woman and a little child are kidnapped in broad daylight and all thy men will do is try to prevent their rescue. Is it thy job to aid lawless men?”

The officer glared in return. Reddening, he shoved past her.

Samuel grabbed him by the shoulder, shook him, and signed, “Show respect to my wife or deal with me. Now do your job or else!”

Honor translated.

The lawman yanked free with a resentful expression and hurried out of the inn.

“We can’t depend on him,” Samuel signed.

Honor embraced her husband. He had defended her. Then, grasping his hand, she ran toward the street, praying with every step.

Hours later, near dusk, Samuel still felt the weight of failure. Why hadn’t he thought to keep Royale with them? Protecting his household was his job, and Royale was important to his wife. And Eli, his only blood kin left, had been taken too. He was just a little boy. Samuel’s heart clenched. What if they never saw his only brother’s only son again?