Emma sewed. She made dresses and men’s shirts. She told herself as soon as she finished the one she was working on, she’d purchase serviceable material and make sturdy work clothes, but the nicer, prettier fabric always won out—even for the men’s shirts.
The letter from Charlotte arrived, welcoming her to come and stay as long as she wanted. Emma’s trunk was packed. As soon as she heard from Mr. Steeple, she’d be off on the next train. Hopefully before Paul returned home.
On Sunday, Emma went to church. Without Paul by her side, she felt vulnerable. Not even the women from the sewing circle returned her smiles. The Reverend Bachus was courteous as always, asking about Paul and news from her daughters.
As Emma headed downstairs to the basement with a bundle of new clothing, Reverend Bachus stopped her. “Mrs. Trebor, may I take that for you?”
“Thank you, Reverend, but it’s not necessary.” She shrugged. “I’m just adding to the collection for the poor.”
He edged past her and reached for the bundle. “I’m headed down anyway. I can take this from here.”
As she released the bundle, she had the impression the reverend didn’t want her in the basement. Why would he be heading that way, when his flock milled around outside waiting to shake his hand?
Suddenly Mrs. Linde was at her side. The same Mrs. Linde who had looked the other way when Emma smiled at her before services. “Mrs. Trebor,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for your many donations for the poor. You do have a flair with a needle.” She took Emma’s arm and escorted her back up the stairs.
God said to love her, Emma reminded herself. “I enjoy sewing, so it’s a blessing to me to be able to contribute.”
They reached the top of the stairs, but Mrs. Linde kept hold of Emma’s arm. “When will Mr. Trebor be back?”
“I think anytime.” Emma wondered at the attempt at small talk. What was going on? She allowed Mrs. Linde to walk her to her buggy.
“Good day, Mrs. Trebor. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon.”
Uriah had spent hours hiding behind a spruce tree on the opposite side of the creek from the hollow stump. Cold had seeped into his very bones, but his patience paid off. Just before sunset on his second day of surveillance, Joe appeared on the path. He watched the foreman slink toward the creek. He held his breath when the man’s gaze swept toward the tree. But Joe put the folded paper into the stump and hurried away.
Uriah counted to one hundred before he slipped into view, crossed the creek, and retrieved the note. “Eight bundles of wood. Presbyterian church. Pattyroller watching.”
Uriah’s grin grew. The message was easy to decipher. He now knew there were eight runaways hiding in the Presbyterian church, and just as important, they’d identified him as a bounty hunter. He’d overstayed his welcome, but he’d not leave without his prize.
It was afternoon when Paul arrived back in Schenectady with his load of cotton. Normally he’d drive straight to the mill and hide the freedom seeker in his secret room, but the station had been compromised, and after bringing Samson so close, he couldn’t risk it. He stopped at the path leading to the creek and retrieved the message from the hole in the top of the stump. It would let him know his next steps.
He unfolded the paper and read it. So a total of eight were hiding at the church. That was risky. The ships must be well watched not to have shipped out any packages. Maybe Tabitha and the children were among those still waiting. Wouldn’t that be a grand thing!
But what excuse would he have for stopping at the church with a load of cotton?
He’d have to bring Samson home with him. Hide him in the stables until dark, then get him to the church.
From the sunroom, Emma watched Paul pull in with the empty wagon. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him, but she quieted it. God was asking her to be loving, and she would. She’d ask her husband no questions. She’d be kind and gracious.
The wagon disappeared around the corner of the stable, and Emma returned to her sewing. She strained to hear Paul’s footsteps in the hallway. She knew he’d not come to the sunroom, but still she listened. Even so, she was surprised when he entered.
“Beulah said I’d find you in here.” He met her gaze and smiled.
Emma rose. “I hope your trip was successful.”
“Yes, very.” He stepped toward her. “I need to clean up and make a trip to town. When I return, I’d like to speak with you.”
Emma’s heart stopped. What did he mean? To tell her about his mistress? No, his face was too tender, his voice too compassionate for that. Had something happened on the trip to soften his heart toward her?
Now that was wishful thinking. First of all, he was cleaning up and going to town first.
Maybe she could go with him.
Dusk settled before Paul came down the stairs. Emma approached him in the hallway. “I have a completed garment to donate to the poor. May I ride into town with you? I could drop it off at the church.”
Paul’s eyes widened slightly, and he appeared disturbed. “I’m sorry, my dear. It won’t do just now. But I shan’t be long and we’ll talk.”
Emma stepped back. She pasted on a smile she did not feel. “Of course.” She watched him leave, her heart shrinking with each step he took away from her.
“Beulah,” she called. When her servant appeared, she said, “I’ll be leaving tomorrow on the first train. Will you make sure my trunk is ready to go?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And when Mr. Trebor returns, please tell him I’ve a headache and gone to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Uriah walked along the docks. Ships were preparing to sail, but as yet he’d discovered no sign of the runaways. He had considered charging into the church and arresting them on Sunday just to cause a scene and upset the do-gooders. But he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the look on the Trebors’ faces when each realized what the other had done. He chuckled to himself.
Even though Paul would be arrested and have to cough up a large sum of money, possibly losing his mill, it would be Mrs. Trebor who would suffer the most. The foolish woman would blame herself the rest of her life for thinking ill of her husband and causing his demise. He rubbed his hands together in glee at the pain he’d cause.
And it would all happen today.
Sounds of horse hooves brought Emma to the window again. Had Paul returned so soon? He hadn’t had time to get to town, let alone come back home. Perhaps he’d changed his mind! Maybe he’d come back for her.
It was the dapple gray horse. Mr. Steeple. Probably coming with news.
News she no longer wanted to hear. Trusting God would protect her heart, not knowledge. She could no longer remember why the identity of Paul’s mistress mattered. It was better if she didn’t know, then she wouldn’t be able to picture them together. Nameless and faceless was better after all. Putting it all in God’s capable hands would give her the peace she sought. That’s what He was telling her. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Sneaking around trying to uncover secrets was not overcoming evil with good.
She opened the front door herself when he knocked. “Good evening, Mr. Steeple.” She did not invite him inside.
“Good evening, Mrs. Trebor. I’ve already asked your stableman to saddle your horse. I believe you’ll want to come to town with me.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Steeple, but I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to know the woman’s identity. But I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
“I see. Well, I still think you should come with me. There’s doings you’ll want to witness.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Steeple. I’ve a headache, and I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’ve a lot to do.”
She started to close the door, but Steeple reached through and grabbed her arm. “I insist you come.”
She pulled back, but his grip held. He dragged her onto the porch. Emma yelled for help. Screamed and kicked.
“Let go of her!” Clancy had brought Apollo around. He dropped the horse’s reins and punched Steeple in the jaw.
Steeple stumbled off the steps and fell to the ground. He was on his feet in a moment. “You’ll be sorry,” he shouted, then mounted his horse and raced away.
Emma trembled. What had just happened? Why had that man turned on her? She’d thought him an ally.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
“Yes, Clancy, thank you. I think I’ll sit here on the steps a moment.”
As Emma sat, she put the puzzle pieces together in a different way.
Paul’s late-night expeditions, a hidden room, a woman’s voice, a secret message didn’t necessarily mean an affair.
What if he were involved with the Underground Railroad? She ran through the house to the kitchen. “Mandy! Beulah!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Paul’s late-night excursions, they were to the cotton mill, where he hid freedom seekers. Am I right?”
The servants stared at her, fear in their eyes. It was enough of an answer.
“Oh no! I’ve done it again.”
But this time she’d not let fear paralyze her. She’d act.
If it wasn’t too late.