Freedom's Touch [Legacy of the Celtic Brooch Book 2] Page 3

  On this trip there were three passengers: a man who looked as if he'd run a marathon in the bowels of hell, his clothes horribly torn and muddied, a young woman wearing a turban and clutching the third traveler, a youngster of no more than five or six. Judging by the long braids and shabby dress, the child was female. The grime on her face could not conceal the beauty of big brown eyes, full, pink lips and an inquisitive stare. Kay had the impression the child was intelligent enough to have questions but savvy enough to keep her own council. It did not pass even the most fleeting inspection that beneath the dirty exterior, the child was fair enough to pass for white.

  That poor woman. Her “master” was probably another one of those plantation owners who felt no shame at using a woman for his own pleasure. Disgusting—but the child was beautiful. That is, at least, some consolation, to have a child.

  Kay stepped into the tiny space, knelt and took the woman's hand. Giving her a gentle squeeze, she said, “I know you must be tired from your journey, and time is precious. There is clothing on those hooks over there and I've left a bucket of fresh water beneath the bench. Feel free to wash and change your clothes if you'd like. Just leave the things you don't need here and I'll dispose of them. On the bench there is some food. I'm sorry it isn't hot but at least it's nourishing.” Kay, motioned to the items as she spoke. Even in the gloom, she knew where everything was.

  "Thank you, ma'am,” the woman whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke. Kay understood that on the trail to freedom, words were a luxury those on the run could ill afford to waste and she was touched by the woman's show of gratitude.

  "You're very welcome,” Kay said. She would have loved to linger but with every passing minute the chance she could be discovered missing from the house grew. “When you move on tonight, keep traveling north. You'll walk a good twelve miles this night, so rest well. Go back the way you came, through the woods until you find the stream again. Walk beside it as it winds toward the mountains. Follow the north star—you know that one, don't you?” she waited until all three heads nodded before she continued. “Follow the star, keeping the stream on your right side,” she held up her right hand and waited until three darker ones joined hers. “Until you see a cabin beneath a stand of pines. There will be an ‘X’ on the side of the cabin—you know what an ‘X’ is, don't you? Good, then just go into the cabin and wait. The next conductor will be to you before sunrise. Do you understand what I've told you?"

  "Yes'm, we do.” The man sounded tired and looked as if he needed a bath, a hot meal and a warm bed.

  Kay resisted the impulse to reach out and hug him, knowing her desire to comfort would be shocking for the travel-weary passengers to deal with. She wished she could offer these people more, wished with all her heart and soul they didn't have to pay so dearly for their freedom. But wishing, especially in a world gone mad the way theirs had, only made her sad. She took a deep breath and placed a hand on the latch that opened the hidden panel.

  Before leaving, she turned and met the gaze of each person and held it for several long moments, trying to memorize their faces. It was the only way she had of keeping them close. After she scooted through the panel and out of the barn, she would never see any of them again. Instead she'd be left to wonder whether they completed their journey, whether they lived or died and whether they'd found freedom in this world—or the next.

  Chapter Two

  The days of spring passed quickly. An air of expectation came to the valley as grass became thicker, buds became leaves and tulips, forsythia and hyacinths bloomed in profusion. Kay felt the tension growing along with the course of nature. As if they were waiting for something, but she simply did not know what was coming or when it would arrive.

  Nights were less swift to pass. With growing frequency Captain Conrad visited her in the afternoon and after looking pointedly at the brooch on her shirtwaist they would speak of parcels, bushels of potatoes or shipments destined to arrive. Although it was liberating for her to be part of a plan much bigger than she could even envision, it was also frightening. For, with increasing occasion, the kindly old man would warn her of slave bounty hunters nearby. His words, “The wind blows from the south today” never failed to send a chill to her heart.

  But the days and nights marched on, as steadily, Kay imagined, as their Union troops marched toward freedom. Freedom for the enslaved, and an end to the family-rending conflict was what the women, as well as the nation, wished for.

  Keeping to life's usual routines saved her from becoming mired in wondering where loved ones were and what horrors they were being subjected to. Both Kay and Arden attempted to keep their days full with hours spent at the store.

  Arden and Frank had an apartment above the store so she could slip upstairs whenever her growing body needed a break from standing. And there were fewer customers with each passing day as those with funds grew more determined to hold onto them. Having two people in the store was unnecessary but at least it kept their minds occupied, even if only for short periods.

  In the afternoons they sat beside the front door on the scuffed porch and watched friends and neighbors passing by. Waving, smiling and exchanging pleasantries gave them all a feeling that their world, at least, was going on in a nearly-normal fashion.

  A warm breeze caressed Kay's cheek and she let her head fall back against the white wicker. The rocker was old but comfortable. Before he'd left, Marsh had promised to paint it, and the porch, too. But painting had been forgotten in the rush to duty and the rocker's arms remained worn.

  "The days are getting warmer,” Kay spoke without opening her eyes. When the wind blew a bit of hair free from her chignon she pushed it back into place with a small smile. “Definitely warmer than yesterday but most likely not as warm as tomorrow."

  "Mmm hmm.” Arden hummed as her knitting needles clicked. “Tomorrow—what a glorious word. I can't help but think of all the tomorrows we'll have when the war ends and life becomes normal again. We'll have the men back ... Big Frank and Frank. And, of course, Marsh. And you two will finally get married. Will you have a big wedding, Kay? One like Helen Bradstreet had in ... gosh, what year was it?"

  "Sixty one. She and Benton were married just before he left, remember?"

  The clack-clack-clack of the knitting needles slowed, and then stopped. In the silence Kay remembered the tall, thin man who had been one of the first to fall. He'd been in Baltimore when a secessionist mob fired upon his regiment. It was a cruel reminder that sadness lurked everywhere now.

  With renewed vigor, the needles began to click again. “Right. I remember that, now. Somehow I seem to push the sad bits to a place far, far in the back of my mind. Do you do that, too? Perchance it's my way of coping with what's going on because sometimes ... sometimes...” Kay opened her eyes and watched as Arden set her knitting aside and cupped her hands over her round stomach. The face that had been serene only moments before looked tortured. Arden's lower lip quivered and her eyes welled.

  Kay reached across the space between their chairs and ran one hand soothingly along her sister-in-law's arm. “There, there. It's all right—we're all feeling the way you are, Arden dear. We all wait and..."

  "Wonder.” The word was almost a whisper.

  "Yes, wonder.” Kay passed her hand over her eyes, as if she could wipe the thoughts from her head if she tried hard enough. “I wonder all the time, about so many things. I miss Father and Frank, certainly, but my heart—oh, Heaven help me, my heart aches for Marsh. I've been fortunate that I've gotten to see him three times since he's gone. So many others haven't gotten visits, but Marsh's duties take him all over and between traveling he sometimes gets to swing by and see us. Those visits, they're just—"

  "Glorious,” Arden said, smiling. Frank had accompanied Marsh on one of those visits and the two had had a swift, but lovely, reunion.

  "Exactly, they were wonderful. Too short, of course, but short is better than nothing and I can't complain. But I'll confide in you—I wish Marsh
and I had gotten married before he left, the way I wanted us to do. Or even during one of his whirlwind visits."

  "No big ceremony?” Arden furrowed her brow as she looked over at Kay. It was no secret Kay had always yearned for a lavish matrimonial gathering.

  "All I want is to be Mrs. Marsh Nolan. I don't care if Reverend Price marries us in the woodshed. I'm getting tired of wondering how it feels to ... well, you know.” Kay felt her cheeks warm as she placed a hand over the brooch. Her fingertips traced the smooth silver circle, lingering on the swirls. Her insides grew fluttery every time she contemplated fully what being Marsh's wife was going to entail. Thoughts of her “wifely duties” made her feel both unsettled and thrilled—all at once—but stroking the brooch calmed her shaking hands. “I don't care about much of anything anymore,” Turning to look at the other woman, Kay took a deep breath and said, “I just want to be as close to Marsh as I can ever get. And once I get that close, I don't want to ever let him go again. I don't think I could stand being separated from him again, Arden. I just don't think I could stand it.” A lone tear slid down her cheek.

  "You won't have to worry about that, Kay darling,” Arden said, tears shimmering in her own eyes. She took Kay's free hand in her own and squeezed. “Once the men come home we'll get back to living the way we did before. There will be gay parties, Sunday strolls and tea in the afternoon again. Why, we'll all be so busy having fun we won't hardly remember that we spent this time worrying. And we'll get you and Marsh properly married as soon as he comes home so you two can get to know each other the way you want to. Believe me, this will all turn out for the best. And those poor slaves—why, they'll be free, too. The world will be a better place for us having gone through this. You mark my words."

  "And you mark mine, Arden. I'm prepared to ‘know’ Marsh without being properly married. That's my biggest regret right now, that I let him talk me into waiting until after we're wed. Why, I think I'll die if something awful happens and Marsh and I didn't ... well, I just think I'd die. No, I've made up my mind. I love Marsh and the next time I see him—well, let's just say I'm not letting him go back to war without something to remember me by."

  "Ooh—feel this, Kay! The baby—he agrees with you.” Arden pulled Kay's hand to her stomach and laid it against the mound. Instantly they both felt the baby kick, a hard, forceful movement that seemed to emphasize their words. Tears dried as they giggled.

  A new life. Hopefully, little one, you'll be born in a new world, too. Everyone keeps saying that the war will be over soon. Perhaps it will end before you're born, even. Wouldn't that be the answer to a nation's prayers?

  Chapter Three

  The horses’ hooves beat a pattern on the lane leading up to the house, breaking the night's stillness so fully they completely eclipsed the night song of the chirping crickets. Kay sat reading one of the books the Captain had examined the day he'd delivered his message, in the front parlor when she first heard the sounds. Now she put the book down, lifted the flickering candle and went to stand beside a front window. Pushing the curtain aside, she strained her eyes to see who was calling at this late hour.

  Living out of town had a number of benefits: privacy, solitude and no prying neighbors. Those were precisely the qualities that made the farm a logical station on the road to freedom. But they were also characteristics that made Kay uneasy at times such as these. With Father gone she was alone—and isolated.

  When the house had been built by Kay's distant ancestors, Deirdre and Patrick Sullivan, there had been nothing but wilderness to surround it. Over the years it had been expanded to accommodate growing families and changing times, but the only concession to a population increase was the lane that wound through the forest toward town.

  Kay didn't usually feel cut off, but at this moment she wished there was at least one neighbor within hearing distance.

  She took a deep breath. Her legs wobbled beneath her but that was a fact she wasn't going to share with whoever was clomping up the steps and onto the porch. A hard knock shook the door in its frame. Before she could inquire as to the caller's name, a familiar voice called out.

  "Miss Lane are you at home? It's me, Captain Elias Conrad, and my manservant, Jacob Parker."

  Kay pulled the front door open and cocked her head as she studied the pair standing before her. The Captain's household staff was limited to the one man, Jacob, who'd been in his employ for longer than anyone could recall. The pair of white-whiskered, elderly men smiled as her eyes passed over them. They both wore clothes more suited for leisure than riding, and the realization they'd left their fireside to call upon her sent a chill up her spine.

  "Captain Conrad. Mr. Parker,” she said, nodding a greeting. Holding the door open more fully, she gave them enough room to pass. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't even consider entertaining two men after dark, without a proper chaperone and clad only in her night clothes. But given the fact that the men in question were older even than her own father and their presence on her doorstep indicated a pressing need, the usual etiquette was something she didn't give a thought to. “Would you like to come in?"

  Apparently, however, the gentlemen were wont to consider the situation more fully. Both shook their heads quickly, murmuring refusals to her invitation.

  Kay set the candle on a table beside the door and stepped onto the porch. Once she closed the door behind her, there were only fireflies and a few random stars to illuminate the trio.

  "Forgive us, please, for coming here at this late hour,” Captain Conrad began. His words were low, his voice hoarse from the dust kicked up by his mount.

  "There's no need to apologize. What, pray tell, brought you two out tonight? I know it must be something grave for you to ride in the darkness. Is there some assistance I can give you? Something you require of me?” The situation must be of the utmost importance for them to have come so far to see her. A trivial matter would have waited discussion until the morrow. She noticed the Captain's sword missing from his hip, a sure sign he'd made haste in getting to her doorstep.

  "It is, I fear, just the opposite situation,” the elderly man said. Dropping his face as close to hers as possible without actually touching her, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “We have ridden this way intentionally, hoping to pass on a bit of information gleaned the way most of us old fellows gather information. We were, I admit, setting on our rockers in front of the public house. You will, I hope, pardon my boldness in mentioning a place of that nature. I assure you we were not imbibing, or we would not have come to you this night. No, we were only smoking our pipes and passing the time. You won't hold it against us, will you?"

  Struggling to conceal her amusement, Kay shook her head. “No, of course not. Every woman realizes that men must have a place to gather, to talk and socialize, especially at times such as these. And I can tell that neither you nor Mr. Parker is inebriated, so I feel no misgiving at your being here.” Bringing her voice down to a tone just above his, yet keeping her face turned toward him, she spoke softly but slowly. “What brings you here? I know it must be important for you to come all this way."

  Again he looked furtively about before answering. “It is of the utmost importance, I assure you. Jacob and I overheard a conversation just a short time ago that bears repeating. Rumor has it that a wind blows from the south today—a strong, harsh series of winds."

  Her throat tightened. Never before had Kay received such a dire warning. Lifting her hand to the side of her head, she plowed her fingers through her unbound hair as she considered the implications.

  Strong, harsh series of winds—that must mean there are scads of bounty hunters in the area. Damnation! That means I won't be able to provide safety or shelter to anyone until they're gone. It would be too dangerous to the passengers to move while so many are searching for them. The fugitive slave laws and their ramifications are nearly laughable in comparison to what some of these bounty hunters are apt to do to those they find.

  "I understand, sir.
I'll take that into consideration, although I'm sorry to hear it as I much prefer a cool northern breeze.” Kay offered a tight smile that spoke much louder than her words ever could.

  "And I too, Miss. Perchance there will be a cool breeze sooner than we expect. Who knows? In these crazy times, anything is possible."

  "You are right, I know that. Captain, will you and Mr. Parker please take care on the ride home? I fear for you, too,” she said. Standing on the porch as she was, dressed for slumber, she did not feel extraordinary in their presence and the additional few moments of talk, with its veiled expressions of concern, made the visit feel less stressful.

  The smile the Captain gave her afforded a glimpse at the man he had once been; mischievous, decidedly rakish. “There is no cause for you to worry, dear lady. Did you forget that I fought on that fateful day, in that blood-bath? Why, after September eleventh, with its brutal carnage and howls of misery, there can never be anything that renders me fearful. So fret not, Miss. We will be fine."

  His reference, given with an obvious puffing out of his chest, made her smile. The Captain had been a hero, highly esteemed for his part in the Battle of Plattsburgh. But the War of 1812 was long past, and although the gentleman evidently felt he was the same man who'd fought on that day, Kay still feared for his safety. But what could she say after hearing such a valiant speech?

  There was really only one proper response to give. “Ah, yes, Captain, how foolish of me. Of course I didn't forget your brilliance on that day in September. How could I? You're legendary, and you know that to be true. Well, then, I'll merely wish you and Mr. Parker a pleasant journey home,” Kay said, praying silently that the old man would not come to any harm. “And thank you again for stopping by. It has been an enjoyable visit."