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  The door opened and Ezra Shoe entered. Behind him were two of his men, whose filthy clothing and feral eyes matched his own. Hester held his rude gaze without reaction.

  He smiled, then said softly, "Well, what have we here?"

  Hester neither moved nor took her eyes off him or the men still standing at the door. Fear shook her but she refused to let it have its head. If she showed even a hint of submission they'd attack like the pack savages they were.

  Shoe came closer, close enough to smell. He leaned down and his smile was lewd. "I saw the sheriff leaving. Me and the boys thought you might be lonely."

  One of the men cackled. Shoe looked over at them and grinned. When he turned back to Hester, the bore of the rifle was staring him in the eye. His eyebrows lifted with such shock and surprise, Hester wanted to smile, but she didn't have time to relish his reaction right now. Now she was too intent upon maintaining the upper hand.

  "Back away, Mr. Shoe."

  He gave her no argument. As he complied she slowly rose from the cot. Her movement gave his men their first look at her behind the gun and one of them uttered a soft curse of alarm.

  Hester demanded softly, "Toss the jail key over in the corner, then leave."

  They seemed to have been caught unawares, so no one moved. Then she heard one laugh nervously. "Gal, you ain't gonna shoot nobody. Don't you know it's against the law for you to turn a weapon on us?"

  Hester shifted her eyes to the man who'd made the remark. He stood in front of the door grinning. She fired the gun into the wood above his head, scaring the bejesus out of them all as they cursed and scrambled out of the way. As the room quieted once more, they stared at her as if she were demented. Hester didn't waver. Her anger kept her strong. How dare they quote the law at her knowing what they'd had in mind when they first entered. She detested violence, but she'd shoot them all without hesitation.

  Shoe snarled, "If we were in the South—"

  "But we're not in the South," Hester interrupted coldly. "You're in the North where cold weather makes free Blacks insane. Isn't that what you were taught? Shall I demonstrate just how crazy I am?" she tossed out bitterly.

  The sarcasm wasn't lost upon them, because Shoe told his men. "Let's go, boys."

  But to Hester he promised, "Your day is coming, gal. You just wait."

  And he stormed out.

  Hester held her stance behind the gun until she heard their steps upon the plank walk outside. Only then did she collapse upon the cot and let her emotions surface. Her hands were shaking so fiercely when she laid the shotgun down beside her she had to hold them still. Her entire body trembled as if she were suffering from extreme cold. She tried not to dwell upon what Shoe and his men would have done had she not had the gun but the terrible scenario made her stomach churn. Men like them did not view her as a thinking, feeling person, but only as a vehicle for their insatiable savagery. They were the men who believed the awful myths about the women of the race, myths that left women like herself vulnerable to attack anytime and anywhere, myths that slanderously labeled Black women as voracious in pursuit of the vices of the flesh and willing to accommodate anyone to satisfy their carnal cravings. Hester heard footsteps nearing the door and she snatched up the rifle once again. The thought that Shoe might be returning put a fresh fear in her heart and tears of anger in her eyes. She held the rifle stock firmly against her shoulder and waited.

  Chapter 14

  But instead of Shoe and his men, Foster entered, followed by Galen and Andre Renaud. Relief flooded over her. She slumped to the cot, set the rifle aside, and wiped her gloved hands over her teary eyes.

  Foster rushed over and took her hands. "My God, Hester, someone said they heard gunshots. Are you all right?"

  In reality she wanted to be held until the shaking passed, but she stoically replied, "Yes, I'm fine."

  "What happened?" Galen asked. The last thing Galen wanted to do was stand there and pretend a neighborly concern. He was dying inside from the need to take her into his arms. He wanted to prove to himself she hadn't been harmed by whatever had frightened her so much she'd taken up a gun in defense of herself.

  "It was Shoe," she replied. While they listened she told them the story of the Blackburns, then explained where the sheriff had gone, and of Shoe's foul visit.

  When she finished her tale, she found it hard not to be moved by the concern in Galen's eyes.

  Galen said, "Andre, go see if you can find the sheriff, I don't want Miss Wyatt to spend the night here. Are we in agreement, Quint?"

  "Total agreement," Foster replied. Then he asked Hester, "How could you have placed yourself in such danger by posing as Fanny?"

  "I wasn't in any danger, the Blackburns were the ones in real peril. My role was insignificant."

  "It won't be insignificant if you are sentenced. Do you know they can confiscate your land and your home?"

  "Foster, I knew the consequences, but the Blackburns needed our assistance, and we provided it."

  "Hester, I was worried sick when Bea stopped me earlier and told me about the escape. No fugitive is worth you being imprisoned."

  Hester couldn't believe her ears. "Foster, do you hear yourself?"

  "I do, and I admit it doesn't sound very noble, but it's you I worry over. I don't want you rotting away in some prison."

  His sincerity softened Hester's mood. "Foster, I won't place myself in an unnecessary danger ever, but I must do my part to stem slavery."

  Hester looked over Foster's head to where Galen stood. He stared back emotionlessly and she suddenly wished they were alone. She turned to Foster and said softly, "I won't give up conducting."

  Foster appeared to want to further argue the point but he sighed instead. "I understand. I don't agree, but I understand."

  The sheriff’s hasty entrance drew everyone's attention.

  "Miss Hester, are you all right? What happened?"

  "I'm all right, but I owe you an apology for the hole in the door."

  He spun to the door, viewed the damage done by the blast, then turned back. "Did Shoe come back here?"

  She nodded.

  Lawson offered a curse that curled Hester's ears. He immediately offered a contrite apology though. "I'm sorry, but that trash!"

  Hester waved him off. "No apology is necessary, Sheriff. Were I a cursing woman, I'd offer a few invectives of my own."

  "Did he touch you?"

  She shook her head. "No."

  Galen commanded everyone's attention by declaring, "Sheriff, under the circumstances, I believe Miss Wyatt should be allowed to return to her home."

  "I agree, but I can't release her until her bond is secured."

  Hester said, "I've made arrangements to post a bond in the morning."

  Foster asked, "What type of arrangements?"

  "I'll use the funds from the land sale and put up some of my land."

  "How much is the bond, Sheriff?" Galen asked.

  The sheriff named the amount, but unlike Hester's earlier reaction of alarm, Galen didn't appear to be bothered by the steep figure. He turned to Renaud and said, "Andre, take care of this for Miss Wyatt, please."

  "My pleasure." Renaud reached into an inside pocket of his tailored coat and extracted a small velvet bag that jingled as if it held many coins. Renaud handed the bag over to the sheriff. Lawson appeared perplexed at first, but when he peered inside, his eyes widened. "Gold?!"

  Galen drawled, "It will do, I hope."

  The sheriff sputtered, "Why, yes. I—gold?!"

  Foster seemed to be transfixed by the sight of the bag in the sheriff’s hand. Hester was certain the surprise was plain on her face. As she met Galen's eyes he said to the sheriff, "I believe there is more than enough there to conclude this transaction."

  The sheriff still appeared a bit stunned. He stared over at Galen with something akin to amazement, but Galen, standing there as richly dressed as any lord, met the gaze as if he were accustomed to garnering such looks of wonder.

&nb
sp; "May we escort her home now?" Galen asked.

  The sheriff sputtered again, "Uh—yes, there's some papers to sign—"

  "Renaud can see to them. Shall we go, Quint, Miss Wyatt?"

  Hester gathered up her things, then after offering the sheriff another sincere apology for the damage to his door, she followed the men out into the night.

  Outside, the sky up above was studded with stars. Hester drew in deep breaths of the sweet, clear air as they walked over to Galen's waiting coach.

  Foster helped her inside and once Renaud joined them, the coach was under way. Foster said, "Mr. Vachon, I want to thank you for posting Hester's bond. I'm sure she will not do anything to jeopardize your gold."

  Hester had had a rough day; she was in no mood for Foster's not-so-subtle reprimand. "I thank you too, Mr. Vachon, but it was not necessary for you to be so generous on my behalf. I'd already made my own arrangements."

  "But Hester, your land," Foster said.

  "What was I to do? You heard the amount. Bea and the others had planned to come in the morning to post my bond, but they couldn't meet that price. Should I have asked them to put up their land instead?"

  Foster replied, "Maybe you should have. Weren't they responsible for you being imprisoned in the first place?"

  Hester wanted to smack him. "Foster, you make it sound as if I were duped into helping the Blackburns. The plan to impersonate Fanny was mine and mine alone."

  Hester looked over to Galen seated within the shadows. "Am I correct in assuming you are angry with me also?"

  Foster answered before Galen could reply. "Your assumption is correct. You placed yourself in danger."

  "Yes, I did, but it was my decision. I took Shoe's threats seriously the first time I met him, but I'm not going to stop my work just because he wants to see me on the block."

  Galen asked, "He's threatened you before?"

  "Yes, last fall when he first came to town."

  "Why haven't you said anything about this before?" Foster asked.

  "There was no need. You are not a member of the Vigilance Committee, nor are you in my Road circle."

  She could feel herself spoiling for a fight so she took a deep breath to calm her temper and said, "I really don't wish to discuss this any further."

  Hester folded her arms and looked away. She knew arguing with them would only serve to make her angrier, so she sat in silence for the remainder of the ride.

  When the coach pulled up in front of her house. Hester maintained her politeness. "Mr. Vachon, thank you for the bond. Please be assured I will do nothing to jeopardize your gold."

  Galen said softly, "We are concerned is all."

  "And I appreciate that concern, but I've been on the Road most of my life, I can take care of myself. Goodnight, Foster. Thank you for coming to my aid."

  That said, she stepped out of the carriage and headed up the walk.

  Later, the more Hester thought about Foster and Galen's attitudes, the angrier she became. She didn't know whether to cry out her frustration or hurl a vase against the wall. She was thankful for her agitated state though, because it kept the memories of Shoe at bay. After she'd washed up and donned her night clothes, she crawled beneath the light quilt. There in the dark, the fear came flooding back. The images of how brutalized she would have been made her shake. She could well imagine the terrible outcome had she not fired the rifle. That one timely shot may have saved her life. She felt a wave of reaction roll over her and she trembled in response.

  Across the room, the wall panel opened and she sat up. She knew instinctively it would be Galen. She barely noticed the panel close soundlessly again because her heart had begun to sing. He'd come. She felt like crying, because he alone knew that she needed solace. He'd come to hold her as she needed to be held.

  He walked further into the room. Without a word, he opened his arms wide. In silent answer, she slipped from the bed and ran to him, letting him encircle her with his strength, letting him hold her tight, so tightly she hoped he would never let go.

  Galen held her for a long time, savoring her, sheltering her. When he could bear to ease her away, he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the rocker. He sat with her atop his lap. Moonlight and the night breeze streamed over them through the open window.

  Cradled against his chest, Hester felt safe for the first time in a long while. Since her aunt's death, her life had become so crazy she'd hardly had time to breathe. She'd had to be strong, dedicated, and stoic in response to all she'd experienced in life, but tonight she didn't want to be strong. For just this little while she wanted to be held as if she were precious to someone, and let that someone be her strength.

  Galen kissed the top of her head and basked in a contentment he'd never dreamed possible. He'd held many women in his arms, but could not remember finding such inner peace, such total ease of mind. The memory of her angry stance behind the rifle would haunt him for quite some time. He never wanted to see her so frightened by anything ever again. He'd been so eager to get back here and see about her, he'd practically thrown Quint from the coach when the driver stopped in front of his home. "Are you still angry with me?" he quietly asked.

  Without lifting her head from the comfort of his chest she answered, "Yes."

  He chuckled softly in the moonlight. "Should I apologize for being so concerned?"

  "No, but you can apologize for acting as if I need a keeper."

  "Now, I never said that. The burgher is the one you want to flay, not me."

  "He'll get his chance, rest assured."

  "I was terribly concerned about you however. When Quint came to me to ask my assistance in freeing you, I didn't hesitate."

  "But the gold was a bit over the top, don't you think?"

  He looked down into her black-diamond eyes and shrugged. "Not really."

  "Does Renaud always carry around a sack of gold coins?"

  "Only when necessary, and tonight it was. I'd no idea who I'd have to bribe to set you free."

  She placed her head back against his heart. "Well, you certainly impressed Sheriff Lawson. Me too, if the truth be known."

  "Good. I enjoy impressing you."

  Hester drew back and looked up at his handsome face. "I'm not going to marry you."

  "So you keep saying. Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

  Hester placed her head back on his chest. "We're not discussing this."

  "Then what are we discussing?"

  Opting to keep the conversation on neutral ground she told him her thoughts on the betrayal of the Blackburns.

  Galen heard her out then said, "You could be right. Someone may have given Shoe the information on the Blackburns, but who?"

  Hester didn't know. "How far did you and Raymond get with the list of names you showed me on the night of your party?"

  "We've investigated nearly everyone so far, but with no results. We've uncovered no one with debts deep enough to make them susceptible to Shoe's possible blackmail, nor have we discovered any names which match the Order's list of known traitors. All we've unearthed is that the people of Whittaker are fine, upstanding people. Not a potential traitor in the county."

  "I told you that back in October, so where does that leave us?"

  "I've no idea, maybe your committee members will have some clues. When do you meet again?"

  "According to my bond conditions I'm not supposed to be meeting with anyone, but the meeting will be held Sunday after church. I'll see if anyone has a new theory. If Shoe could do this to the Blackburns no one is safe."

  Galen agreed.

  He then asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

  She thought back on Shoe and his leering, evil presence. "He scared me deeply, but I'm better."

  Galen hugged her closer. "When I entered the sheriff’s office this evening, and saw you standing so angrily behind that gun—then I saw the tears in your eyes—I think I hate it when you cry."

  Hester looked up at him with a questi
oning face.

  "I do," he said. "It makes me want to destroy whomever or whatever has caused you pain."

  Hester thought he was joking. "Now, Galen, really, that's a bit much, don't you think?"

  "That's what I keep telling myself, but after you explained what had happened with Shoe, I wanted to kill him with my bare hands."

  His words were plain, his eyes truthful. "We have a problem here, petite. It's fairly certain I'm in love with you."

  Hester went still. His eyes were intense enough to drown in, and her heart was pounding.

  He went on, saying huskily, "You've no idea how you affect me..."

  Hester closed her eyes in reaction to his bold declaration. She didn't know how to respond. She did know that she needed to get up from his lap before she gave in to temptation, because she was fairly certain she loved him too. But she doubted their love would ever bear fruit due to their social differences. Their classes rarely mixed, let alone married. She didn't want him to be ostracized from his circle because of her past.

  "You—should go back, Galen." She made a move to rise, but his hands gently stayed her hips.

  "What's the matter?" he softly enquired. "I tell you of my love and you turn morose. Is the thought so disheartening?"

  She smiled a half smile and shook her head. "No, in fact I'm very flattered actually, but you aren't in love— not with me."

  "Why can't I be in love with you?"

  "Because you can't be. We're from different worlds."

  "And that means what exactly?"

  "It means people like you and I don't fall in love. We certainly don't marry. Your social circle wouldn't allow it."

  "Do you really believe I would care what society thinks about who I love?"

  "No, you probably wouldn't, but I do."

  He searched her face. "You think I would be ashamed of your past?"

  "Maybe not at first—"

  "I'm going to pretend you didn't utter such nonsense."

  "Galen—"

  "We're not going to have this discussion because it is unnecessary. Now kiss me so I don't become any angrier than I already am."

  "You are far too arrogant for your own good at times, do you know that?"