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  Hester could hear the bitterness in his voice.

  "I've no idea how long the beating lasted, but sometime towards the end I heard gunshots. By then, the pain was so great I'd lost all sense so I didn't care if it were Gabriel and his angels or the hounds of hell. I came to— I'm not sure when or even where—but I looked up and there was old Jeb Wesley's bearded face leaning over me. I heard him say, 'Just lie still, Daniel. Once me and the boys exterminate this vermin with the righteous wrath, we'll get you to a place of safety.'"

  Galen added, "I don't remember much else until I woke up here."

  "Do you remember waking up and grabbing my wrist?"

  He seemed surprised. "No. Did I hurt you?"

  She shook her head, but said truthfully, "Frightened me, though."

  He searched her face. "Again, my apology."

  She nodded her acceptance.

  Galen said then, "I do remember hearing someone singing. It sounded like an angel. I wondered if somehow I'd been allowed into heaven?"

  "You, in heaven?" she said teasingly.

  He smiled. "Those were my thoughts exactly, but the singing was beautiful. Maybe I was simply dreaming."

  Hester had never been one to call attention to herself, so she didn't tell him the voice had been hers.

  "Well?" he asked.

  His question brought her back to the moment. "Well—what?"

  "Did I dream the singing?"

  Hester hesitated a moment, then said quietly, "No. The voice was mine. I thought to calm you—you were speaking French and being so fitful. It was all I could think to do."

  He searched her face a moment, then said, "Thank you for keeping me alive. I might have died had you not agreed to harbor me."

  "You're welcome. The Road needs you." Hester then asked, "So when did the catchers mention Whittaker?"

  "Some time after all six of them had taken turns teaching me the error of my ways. I remember lying on the ground and being in such pain I would've welcomed death. The leader leaned down and cackled there were catchers all over the state massed on the Ohio border waiting for me, but he'd been the one to find me. Said you people, meaning we on the Road, had a snake in our garden over in Whittaker. He considered it only fitting I know I'd been betrayed by one of my own before he sent me to hell."

  "Do you know anyone in Whittaker?" Hester asked.

  Galen shook his head. "No."

  "Then I don't understand. Who here would have known you were coming? Surely you didn't announce your intent to travel here ahead of time?"

  "Unfortunately I did, in a way. Do you know anything about the men who put together the Order?"

  Hester did. The Order originated with the Black conductors in Detroit. The men of the Order were known by various names, one being the African-American Mysteries: Order of the Men of Oppression.

  Their secret passwords, handshakes, and coded identification system had been modified for use by many of the agents and conductors on the Road. Among the founders of the Order were two of the most successful conductors in Detroit—William Lambert, the leader of Michigan's Black Road network, and George De Baptiste, a Detroit tailor. De Baptiste was so hated in areas of the South, a reward of one thousand dollars awaited any slave catcher who could capture him. Hester said, "Galen, I can't believe any of those men betrayed you. You said yourself you were in a lot of pain after the beating. Are you certain of what you heard?"

  "I'd stake my life on it."

  Hester could see he had faith in what he believed. She didn't know what to say.

  Instead she asked, "Why did you let them know you were coming here? Do you do that often?"

  "Usually my plans are known only to myself and my passengers. However, I had some information I was bringing north—information the Order had requested. They knew the approximate dates of my arrival so it would have been fairly simple for someone to pass that knowledge on to the slave catchers."

  Hester found this all very stunning. "Let's say for the sake of argument there is a traitor, how do you propose to find him or her?"

  "That's a question I can't answer yet."

  "Can't or won't?"

  He smiled. "Both."

  Hester didn't press. She stood and asked, "Do you want to meet the member of the local Vigilance Committee?"

  "No. The fewer people who know I'm in the area, the better."

  "I agree, but the conductors deserve to be alerted if there's a traitor in our midst. They'll certainly want to know where I received such incriminating information."

  "I understand, and that's a risk I'll have to take."

  Hester then asked the question that had been weighing on her mind. "Galen, why are you divulging all of this to me? How do you know I'm not the traitor?"

  "Are you?"

  "Of course not."

  "Then the point is moot, petite."

  He spoke the diminutive so softly she felt as if he'd stroked her with more than just his voice. She managed to ask, "Are you ready for more of Bea's salve?"

  He nodded.

  She sat on the edge of the cot while he undid his shirt. When his chest was exposed she tamped down the tingling he seemed to inspire and began a slow repeat of this morning's application of the salve. The heat rising from his chest seemed to be even more distracting than it had been earlier. While she worked, she couldn't help but peek up at his flat brown nipples, then ordered herself to pay attention to what she was supposed to be doing.

  With his eyes closed, Galen could feel her warm fingers slowly working him into a lazy state of arousal. It had been quite some time since he'd felt the soft caress of a woman's touch; he usually remained celibate while on the Road, however, her indigo hands reminded him just how long it had been. Rather than embarrass her with the soon-to-be-evident proof of his growing desire, Galen placed his hand over hers to stay it.

  Hester looked up in surprise. Her hand caught beneath his own felt as if it were on fire. "Have I hurt you?"

  He chuckled and slowly opened his eyes, "No, Indigo, you haven't hurt me. I just think I've had enough salve for today."

  Galen thought about how it might feel to have her touch him without inhibition. He realized such images would not help quiet his awakened arousal, so he lifted her hand and peered at it.

  Hester tried to remain calm and unmoved, but she could not still the shaking of her hand.

  "You have beautiful hands, Hester Wyatt. They're like exotic indigo orchids."

  Hester could only swallow.

  "You're shaking," he stated.

  For the first time Galen could see that the smallest finger on her hand had no nail. It appeared to have been severed. He gently moved his own finger over the shortened digit and asked softly, "What happened here?"

  "My mother did this a few days after I was born. She and my father hoped it would make me distinctive enough to be found by my aunt."

  "You'll have to tell me the story one day."

  Galen experienced the overwhelming urge to bring the finger to his lips, but he didn't want to frighten her so he ignored the urge, then slowly released her hand.

  "What is that scent you're wearing?" he asked softly.

  It took her a moment to pull herself away from his eyes. "I—don't wear a scent."

  He leaned over and inhaled the sweet fragrance lingering against her trembling neck. "That isn't a scent?"

  Hester fought to speak in a calm tone. "It is vanilla."

  "Vanilla?"

  "Vanilla."

  "Vanilla that is placed in sweets?"

  "Yes. I don't see the value in wasting coin on real scents, but I am a woman and I do like to smell nice. So, I use vanilla, just as my aunt did."

  Hester had no idea what this interlude meant or where it might lead, but she was still shaking. He was a powerful presence and she could feel that power arching around the room like captured lightning. She stood in order to put distance between herself and the man on the cot.

  "I'll—bring you your supper later and go up to the
meeting."

  He nodded, then watched her go.

  Chapter 5

  As Hester drove her small buggy to the church for the meeting, she, like all other abolitionists, looked forward to the day when slavery would be abolished, thereby making the oft times secret work of the vigilance committees no longer necessary. Until then, committees like the one in Whittaker were desperately needed to provide the runaways with lodging, food, clothing, and medicine. Members also informed the former slaves of their legal rights, saw to the fugitives' establishment of a new life, gave direction, guidance, and in many instances secured small amounts of money and letters of introduction to potential employers.

  Vigilance groups existed from Maine to California. Some were large, others small. Some boasted members from a variety of races, while others, like the committee in Detroit, were all Black. Regardless of a committee's size or makeup, all fashioned themselves after one of the most dedicated committees of the abolitionist era, the New York Committee of Vigilance, founded in 1835 by a Black man named David Ruggles. Ruggles personally assisted the secret passage of hundreds of runaways to the quasi-free areas of the segregated north, one of the most prominent runaways being the great Frederick Douglass.

  To further the cause, Ruggles often visited the docks of New York to make certain slaves weren't being smuggled in on arriving ships. He went door to door in some of the city's wealthiest neighborhoods to inform domestic workers that under the laws of New York imported slaves were free after residing in the state for ninety days. Under his leadership runaways were invited to address the audiences at some of the New York committee meetings and relate their struggles for freedom.

  Mr. Ruggles eventually severed his ties to the New York group due to a problem with his eyesight, but continued to offer his personal assistance to those seeking freedom.

  Yet over twenty years later, slavery still fouled the land. Like the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law, the Supreme Court decision denying Mr. Dred Scott's petition for freedom had been a blow to the cause of abolition. The court stated in part that because the men and women of the race had always been considered inferior, the race had no rights a White man was bound to respect. Slaves continued to escape however, despite the court's outrageous decree. Their refusal to remain chattel made the continued existence of the Vigilance Committees imperative.

  Like many of the other committees in the country, Whittaker's Vigilance Committee used a modified version of the Order's coded methods to communicate secretly. Bea Meldrum served as the area's messenger because her egg deliveries and doctoring took her all over the county. Hester had been alerted to this evening's emergency meeting, not by anything Bea had said, but by the color of the cloth in the egg basket Bea had left on the porch that morning, The cloth had been red, the standard color for a committee summons. The number written with paraffin on the shell of one of the eggs told the meeting's time.

  Hester could hear the voices of the choir rehearsing as she entered Whittaker's A.M.E. church. While the choir rehearsed in the small sanctuary on the church's main floor, below ground, in the church cellar, the Reverend Joseph Adams called the meeting of the Vigilance Committee to order. There were twenty members on the official roll, but only four had shown up tonight— Hester, Bea, Branton Hubble, and William Lovejoy. Lovejoy owned a very successful barbering business and was the wealthiest man in Whittaker.

  "First of all," the Reverend Adams began, "I'd like to thank Bea for contacting everyone. There are fifteen choir members at the rehearsal upstairs, a good turnout for such short notice."

  Bea accepted the thanks with a nod of her gray head. The rehearsing choir would serve as a mask for the meeting.

  "Now, the reason we are here. There's been much speculation over the whereabouts of the Black Daniel. Rumors have him gone to ground from here to Ontario, and back. The Order has asked all chief conductors to ask their local agents if anyone knows where he really is."

  Hester hesitated to reveal Galen's location upon hearing of the Order's interest, but Galen had given her permission to reveal his presence so she said, "He's in my cellar, Reverend."

  Suddenly she was the center of attention. "Bea patched up his injuries, but I never told her his true identity."

  Bea smiled. "So that's who he is."

  Bea then swung around on her chair to get a good look at William Lovejoy, and said, "Guess a woman can keep a secret, eh Lovejoy?"

  Bea's cackle of amusement seemed to further sour Lovejoy's petulant features. William Lovejoy was a stooped, balding little man of about fifty years of age. He had made it clear for many years how he felt about women being members of the Vigilance Committee: he was opposed. His prejudices had caused many arguments among the members, especially in light of all the work done by women on behalf of similar committees throughout the country. Lovejoy turned to Hester and asked sharply, "Why haven't you told anyone before now?"

  Before Hester could answer, Branton Hubble, Hester's neighbor and good friend, asked Lovejoy coolly, "Do you ever announce who you are harboring in your loft, Lovejoy?"

  Lovejoy knew the answer. He did not respond.

  Hester smiled her thanks at Branton for his support, saying. "I didn't want to reveal his whereabouts without his permission."

  Bea cracked, "Secretive and smart."

  The reverend then asked, "Do you think the Daniel will agree to meet with us?"

  Hester could see the enthusiasm in the reverend's eyes as he voiced the question. The Black Daniel was a legend; few if any had ever seen him. Hester understood the reverend's desire to be one of those few. "I'm not certain he will agree. He's convinced we have a traitor in our midst."

  Everyone stared. Branton Hubble asked, "What do you mean?"

  Hester told them Galen's story. When she finished, the room was silent.

  "That's impossible," Branton barked.

  "I agree, Branton," Hester replied. "However he is convinced the slave hunter was telling the truth."

  "There are no traitors here," Lovejoy stated.

  "Suppose it's true. How do we proceed?" Bea asked.

  "The Black Daniel says he has a plan," Hester stated.

  "What sort of plan?" the reverend asked.

  Hester shrugged. "I've no idea." She thought about revealing Galen's questions concerning local land for sale, but she'd not asked him if he wanted that information revealed, so she did not.

  The group spent a few more minutes discussing the faults and possible merits of Galen's theory. In the midst of this, Lovejoy said, "Reverend, I seriously think we should discuss Hester's continuing role in the harboring of such an important man."

  "Why?" the reverend asked skeptically. "Hester seems to have everything well in hand."

  "Because if he needs protection, a man should be there."

  Bea asked, "Are you offering to be that man?"

  "I don't see why not," Lovejoy stated proudly. "My home is large, and—"

  "And," Hubble broke in, "you're the worst shot in three counties. If the Black Daniel finds Hester's care lacking, I'm sure he'll let someone know. Until then he stays where he is. Agreed?"

  The reverend and Bea shook their heads in mutual agreement.

  Lovejoy sat back in angry silence. Hester knew the wealthy barber did not like having his lack of firearms skill aired, but the truth was that Whittaker had schoolchildren who could shoot better.

  Reverend Adams then asked Bea about the movements of Shoe and his men. Bea's answer was disheartening. "Unfortunately, it looks as if he may be here for the winter. He's holed up over at Porter Greer's."

  Everyone acknowledged that to be a distressing turn of events. Porter Greer lived about twenty-five miles south of Whittaker and made his living kidnapping runaways. He posed enough of a menace alone; in tandem with Shoe and his brigands, he would be even more of a threat to the Road's operation.

  Branton Hubble remarked dryly, "It's too bad the both of them can't meet with an arranged accident."

  The reverend a
dmonished Branton with a disapproving look. Branton Hubble, and a growing percentage of abolitionists were of the opinion only a violent confrontation would push the government to outlaw the holding of men and women as slaves. Until 1840, many abolitionists, both Black and White, viewed abolitionism as a pacifistic endeavor. With the passage of the 1850 Fugitive Slave Law and the resulting kidnappers spreading terror across the North, many vigilance committee members were meeting slave catchers' writs with guns drawn. Even Frederick Douglass, long a supporter of the nonviolent approach to abolition, had publicly voiced support for those who would take up arms to end slavery.

  Reverend Adams said, "Branton, I ask that you not intercede with violence."

  "Are you going to tell that to Greer and Shoe too, Reverend Adams?" Branton asked in return.

  The two men had argued before over their differing approaches. The reverend still believed prayer more valuable than arms. Branton did not agree.

  Hester sensed the rising tension in the room. "Gentlemen, can we postpone this discussion until the next time, please? We have more tangible issues to discuss now."

  Both men gave imperceptible nods and the meeting's talk returned to the Daniel's betrayal. Hester asked, "Branton, could there be a traitor in the Order?"

  "It is possible I suppose. For now, I suggest we not answer the Order's summons about the Black Daniel's whereabouts. If the Black Daniel decides he wants his presence revealed, he will tell us."

  Everyone agreed.

  It was dark outside when the meeting and the choir rehearsal came to a close. Branton Hubble walked with Hester to her buggy, which was parked beside the church. They'd always been special friends. He'd loved her Aunt Katherine from afar for most of Hester's life, yet he'd never acted upon his feelings out of respect for his wife, still in bondage in Kentucky.

  "Hester, is the Black Daniel giving you any problems?"

  "He did in the beginning, snarled at me the whole time. We're progressing a bit better now that's he healing."

  "What type of man is he?"

  "Stubborn."

  Branton smiled. "Well, if you need anything, let me know."