The pattern of her heart, p.24
The Pattern of Her Heart, page 24
“I think I hear something,” Spencer hissed.
Nolan quickly gathered them together behind a growth of bushes. “Don’t anyone say anything,” he whispered.
Jasmine’s heart hammered with the violence of pounding thunder on a stormy night as they hunkered behind the overgrowth. The voices were coming from the direction of the river—not from behind them, as Spencer had thought. Jasmine shrunk back as the voices grew louder.
“I’m not going any farther,” a man said. “If Rupert wants to chase after that colored girl, then let him come and get her.”
“He wants all of them—not just the darkie.”
“Says he wants to prove to them that they’ve got to show him proper respect.”
“This is mad. I’m not going to stay out here any longer just so Rupert can force someone to show him some respect. Besides, if they were headed north to Vicksburg, they would have been on the last boat. There’s another one due in the morning. I say we go back to Rodney and, come daybreak, wait at the dock to see who boards the boat.”
The other man grunted his agreement.
Nolan signaled them to remain where they were until long after the men could no longer be heard and then emitted a sigh. “I think it’s safe for us to continue now,” he whispered.
Jasmine clutched his arm. “From what those men said, I believe we’ll be safe once we arrive at Grand Gulf. Let’s pray we don’t have to continue on foot to Vicksburg. I don’t believe I could make it,” she said wearily as she again wondered how runaways had endured their flight to freedom under circumstances much harsher than the conditions she was now being forced to experience. Suddenly she felt dreadfully inadequate.
CHAPTER • 16
MARY MARGARET hoisted her skirts a few inches and made her way across Merrimack Street, carefully avoiding the pools of mud that were a vivid reminder of last week’s snow. She was thankful the weather had warmed a bit, yet the muddy remains made getting about perilous. Even the carriages were having difficulty navigating the streets.
“Careful. That mud is as slick as the snow preceding it.”
Mary Margaret looked up at the warning. “Paddy! What brings ya to town this evenin’?”
“I was attending a meetin’—we were havin’ discussions about the St. Patrick’s Day festivities,” he replied, taking a few steps closer.
“Truly? And were ya able to complete the plans?”
He laughed and shook his head, surprised by Mary Margaret’s conviviality. “ ’Twill take more than one meeting for this group ta make any decisions.”
“Bridgett tells me the decisions for the dance have already been made and the ladies have begun work already.”
“Aye—but it’s the women that have taken charge of the dance. Men are a wee bit slower in making arrangements for parades and such—they want to make sure everything is exactly correct.”
She laughed. “Get on with ya, Paddy. We all know it’s the women that are slow to make decisions but quick to set their hands ta work once they’ve a plan, while ’tis the men who are quick to decisions but slow to beginning their task. If ya ask me, the men were likely anxious to get out to the pub and tip an ale or two instead of makin’ plans for a parade that’s more than a month away.”
“Quick to pass judgment, are ya?”
“Just telling the truth about what I figure happened. Are ya tellin’ me I’m wrong?”
A faint smile crossed Paddy’s lips. “Sure and ya know exactly what happened. But they all agreed that we’d make our final decisions at the meeting next week,” he quickly added. “I was thinkin’ to walk over and see Bridgett and Cullen before headin’ back to the farm. Are ya off to do some shopping?”
“No, just wanted to leave the house for a while and get a breath of air. Another one of the girls in our boardinghouse lost her position at the mill today. Rather gloomy at the house, so I thought I’d take a walk.”
“Well, then, would ya be wantin’ to accompany me? If ya do na mind the walk, that is. The wagon is at the blacksmith having a new wheel put on, and I’m to pick it up later. But if ya do na mind traveling by foot, ya could visit Bridgett for a bit before returning home.”
There was a slight hesitation in his voice. Mary Margaret was unsure if he truly desired her company or if he was merely being polite. But no matter. Since learning more about Paddy from his sister, she was interested in becoming better acquainted, though she didn’t want to appear overly anxious.
“I’m not certain,” she tentatively began as she clicked open the small watch attached to her jacket and glanced at the time. “I do suppose I could, so long as I’m back to the boardinghouse by ten o’clock.”
“Aye. I’ll be sure ya’re home on time. So ya say one of the girls lost her job today. I hope you and Bridgett do na have to face such a terrible thing,” he said as they began walking.
“Bridgett should be safe unless the economy gets much worse. They’re terminatin’ by seniority, though they’ve made a few exceptions and let some girls go who they said didn’t turn out as much work,” she said. “That’s what happened to Helen today. She’s been with the Corporation longer than I have, but she’s sickly and can na work so fast. I’m hoping she will na be bearing a grudge toward me, for it was na my doing.”
“Did ya try discussin’ the matter with her?” Paddy asked.
“Aye, but she said she didn’t want to talk, so I left her to her thoughts. Mrs. Brighton said she could stay at the house, but there’s no tellin’ if she will. She’s a quiet girl that came to our house because she was ill-treated at the place she had lived before. Mrs. Brighton has been kind to her, though Helen seldom has a word to say. At supper Mrs. Brighton told Helen there might be work for her someplace other than the textile mills.”
“Does she have some other skills ta offer at one of the other companies?”
“I do na know, but Mrs. Brighton mentioned the company that’s begun manufacturing shuttles and bobbins. She said she’d heard there might be a few positions there. She also suggested Helen talk to the owners of some of the shops in town to see if they might be needin’ help, but I do na think there’s much of a chance for that. Helen’s na the type to be greeting customers in a dress shop or stationery store— she’s too fearful of approachin’ strangers.”
“Ya never know what hunger will do for a person,” Paddy said. “She may find she’s able to handle such a position if it’s all she can locate.”
“It’s a fact her family’s needin’ her money, so I do hope she finds work. Mrs. Brighton’s willing ta seek aid for her through the benevolent group at her church. She’s a kind woman, that one.”
“Aye, so I’ve been told.”
Mary Margaret took a deep breath to bolster her courage before speaking. “Are ya making plans to attend the St. Patrick’s Day dance?” she asked as they neared Cullen and Bridgett’s home.
Paddy turned to glance at Mary Margaret. “Sure and I always attend the dance. What good Irishman would remain at home on such a festive day?”
He didn’t give the answer she had hoped to elicit, but she wasn’t deterred. She would ask him again as they walked back to the boardinghouse. However, this time she would phrase her question a bit differently.
Paddy was certain he’d heard Bridgett whisper a remark about the St. Patrick’s Day parade to Mary Margaret and then giggle as they were preparing to depart.
“I’m wonderin’ why the two of them are discussing the parade when what they need to concern themselves with is the dance,” he said to Cullen. “Next thing ya know they’ll be tryin’ to take over the parade.”
“To be sure,” Cullen agreed. “Bridgett’s quite the organizer. She’ll be havin’ our work done for us if we leave ’er to it long enough.”
“Still, they needn’t be doin’ our job. Although I’m sure Bridgett would get the work done.”
Cullen gave a hearty laugh. “Aye, to be sure. But women would na be women if they did na put themselves in the center of all of our plans. Besides, if I know Bridgett, they’re likely discussing the latest fashions they’d like to be wearin’ rather than interfering into yar plans, Paddy. Do na worry— there will be plenty for ya to attend to before the seventeenth of March arrives.” The women moved closer to the front door. “Best be fetchin’ yar jacket. Looks like the lass is ready to leave.”
Mary Margaret had her cape fastened and her reticule in hand. She directed a warm smile in his direction, and for a moment Paddy wondered if there might be someone behind him for whom the smile was intended. After all, this lass had been nothing but agitated with him when they’d encountered each other in the past. He’d been taken aback when she agreed to spend time with him this evening; now she was smiling at him as though she’d missed being in his company. He was not a man given to second-guessing people’s motives, but Mary Margaret was indeed cut from a different cloth than were the lasses he’d encountered in the past. Why was she now so affable?
She appeared to listen intently as they walked home and Paddy talked of the farm and the horses that would soon be ready for their new owners at West Point and the Virginia Military Institute. He spoke of several of the animals that had been sick and the fact that he missed Mr. Houston’s presence at the farm, and he admitted he was sometimes overwhelmed making the many decisions needed in order to run such a fine operation as the Houston farm.
“I have little doubt but what ya’re doin’ a wonderful job. Mr. Houston has paid you a fine compliment by placin’ you in charge during his absence,” Mary Margaret said sweetly as she patted his arm.
“Aye, that he has, and I do na want to disappoint him,” he said with his gaze fixed upon her hand as she continued to lightly grasp his arm.
“I do na think that would be possible.” Her voice sounded thick and sweet like the honey he used to pour on his pancakes when he was a wee lad living in Ireland.
“Bridgett and I were discussin’ the St. Patrick’s Day dance. She was tellin’ me about the new dress she’s makin’ for the dance.”
“That’s nice. I’m thinkin’ she’ll look lovely whether her dress is old or new.”
“But having a new gown to wear to a dance always makes a woman feel special.”
He didn’t know what she wanted him to say. Surely the lass knew he had no knowledge of dresses and sewing, and there was little more he could add to a discussion of dress for the St. Patrick’s Day dance—or any other dance, for that matter.
“Will ya be purchasing new trousers and shirt for the dance?” she finally inquired.
Paddy scratched his head. “I do na think so. I do na give much thought to such things until the time is upon me. Unlike you women, I do na plan to be doin’ any sewing.”
“Of course, if a lass wanted to make a new gown for the dance, she’d have to know some time in advance that she was going,” Mary Margaret said.
“Anyone can go to the dance. Ya do na need a special invite,” he said. “Well, here we are—I’ve gotten ya home well before ten o’clock, and now I must be hurrying off before Jake beds down for the night. He will not look kindly on me if I wake him up needin’ my wagon.”
He tipped his hat and nodded. “Good night to ya, Mary Margaret. I enjoyed spending the evenin’ with ya.”
“Good night,” she replied, giving him another of her sugary smiles.
The girl was a puzzle—of that there was no doubt!
Kiara rounded the table and placed a plate of eggs and sausage in front of Paddy. “Get busy with yar breakfast,” she ordered Nevan and Katherine, who were busy annoying one another rather than eating the food their mother had placed in front of them.
“You do na have to tell me more than once,” Paddy said, picking up his fork. “Has Rogan already eaten and gone with Liam?”
“Aye, about five minutes ago.”
He nodded. “I thought I saw him go by when I was mucking out some of the stalls. And how’s that fine babe doin’ this mornin’? Seems little Aidan is always sleepin’ when I come in.”
“That’s what babies do. They sleep. And thankful we are that they do. He’s nearly six weeks old now, Paddy. He’ll soon begin to stay awake a wee bit more. Were ya able to get the wagon repaired?” she asked.
“Aye, it’s back in the shed if Rogan’s needin’ it for anything.”
“And did ya stop by and see Cullen and Bridgett?”
“Aye, along with Mary Margaret O’Flannery.”
“Is that a fact, now? Do tell me how ya happened to be keeping company with Miss O’Flannery,” Kiara said as she wiped the apron that covered her green chambray skirt.
Paddy related the entire episode in between bites of breakfast. “If ya do na begin eating that food, Nevan, I’m going to clean yar plate as well as me own,” he said to the boy with a grin. “Now, where was I?” he asked, turning his attention back to his sister.
“Where she’s talkin’ about the dance,” Kiara said impatiently.
“Aye. Well, if I did na know better, I’d think the lass was wantin’ me to ask her to the dance,” he finally said.
“And why would that be so hard ta believe? Ya’re a fine young man that any lass would be lucky ta have!”
“Ya saw how she acted when she and Bridgett were over here—her nose up in the air as though she did na think much of me. Yet last night, she was sweet as a peppermint stick. I do na understand the mind of a lass,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I best get back out to the barns. There’s much ta be done today. And I hope the two of ya are done with yar breakfast by the time I come in for the noonday meal,” he added with a wink at his niece and nephew.
Kiara began to clear the table while contemplating the information her brother had imparted. ’Twas true Mary Margaret appeared to think Paddy a wee bit full of himself, but Kiara thought she’d noticed the girl’s feelings soften— especially when Bridgett was telling her about their voyage from Ireland. Perhaps what Mary Margaret and Paddy needed was a little more time together. Time to get to know one another a bit better in a friendly environment. Perhaps she’d extend a dinner invitation to Mary Margaret—and the sooner the better, for St. Patrick’s Day would soon be arriving.
CHAPTER • 17
THE WOMEN AND children were huddled in a small circle, praying Nolan would return with the news they could board the boat. Jasmine had begged Nolan to go into Grand Gulf the preceding night and rent a room at the hotel, but he had refused, saying they would raise too much suspicion and would be too easily remembered should Rupert or his men come looking for them. She knew he was correct: one man, three children, and three women—one of them colored. There was little doubt they would raise eyebrows, especially in their filthy condition. So now they waited, Jasmine leading them in yet another prayer for safe passage home.
“It’s Papa,” Spencer whispered as they heard footsteps drawing near.
“Shh. Stay quiet. We can’t be certain,” Jasmine whispered into his ear.
She captured a glimpse of Nolan’s brown wool coat as he edged through the thick brush. “Jasmine, it’s me—Nolan,” he called. He greeted her with a hand to her shoulder. “I talked with a number of men along the docks and some of the merchants doing business near the wharf. None of them had seen strangers loitering near the docks.”
“Did you book passage?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, though I pray I didn’t make a mistake. I continue to wonder if we should wait until we reach Vicksburg to board a vessel.”
“You may place the responsibility on my shoulders, Nolan. I truly can go no farther, nor can the children. If any of Rupert’s men board the ship looking for Prissy, we’ll hide her, but I honestly believe they’ve given up by now.”
Nolan glanced about the weary group. “Do you all agree?”
“Yes,” they replied in unison.
“Then we shall board. It’s not what you’re accustomed to, my dear. In fact, we’ll have little space since the boat is already loaded with cotton.”
“You’ll hear no complaint from me so long as I don’t have to walk another mile in these uncomfortable shoes. I have blisters on top of blisters,” she said while bending over to rub her tender feet.
“We have no time to tarry, for the captain tells me they’re preparing to lift the gangplank within the hour. If we’re not on board, they’ll sail without us.” Nolan lifted Alice Ann to his hip. “Can you manage Clara?”
“Yes, of course. Spencer, please help Prissy and Henrietta gather things together and let’s be on our way,” Jasmine instructed.
Nolan quickly surveyed their camp to assure himself they’d left nothing behind. If Rupert or his supporters searched these woods, they didn’t want any evidence to remain that their family had been there. It would take only a piece of fabric or a small toy of Alice Ann’s to alert Rupert’s men, convincing them to continue their search. When Nolan had finally completed his appraisal of the campsite, he motioned for them to follow.
“God has heard our prayer,” Jasmine told Henrietta and Prissy.
“Don’ be too sure—we ain’t out of here yet, Missus,” Prissy said as she hoisted one of the satchels under her arm.
Jasmine ignored Prissy’s gloomy response. She could feel God’s hand guiding them, so she would not be deterred by anything Prissy or anyone else might say. In her heart she knew they would arrive home safely—all of them.
The dock bustled with stevedores and roustabouts unloading packet boats heavy with freight destined for Vicksburg, while other dock workers hauled cotton bales and freight onto boats destined for Memphis and St. Louis.
“This way,” Nolan directed, hurrying the bedraggled group toward a steamer at the far edge of the riverbank. The boat was laden with cotton bales that filled the lower deck of the boat and were stacked high around the front and sides.
