Could he truly trust Jorgine?
It was a question that had plagued him throughout the night, really since the moment he’d opened Liv’s bedroom door to find her on the other side. She seemed genuine enough in her concern for her maid, but the slave hunters had used those tactics before with great success. They used every means possible to collect their bags of gold. Money that Win Wakefield and his family provided them when they retrieved lost “property.”
Yet she’d as much as told him she didn’t love Win, didn’t plan on sharing a home or a life with him. She must be more innocent than he’d thought if she believed Win would leave her to manage Piney Brooke. No man in his right mind would desert such loveliness, especially his wife. That she had a keen mind and a sharp wit would only endear her to those in Wakefield’s circles, an asset that could win him the White House.
“Should we get Sally?” Jorgine asked, interrupting his thoughts. “I assumed you’d be taking her with you today.”
He could understand how Jorgine had reached that conclusion, asking her to bring her maid along. But he had to make certain she was being honest with him. “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”
“But…”
He might be willing to trust her with his life, but he wouldn’t endanger his charges, not just yet. “There will be time later.”
She breathed out a long sigh. “In other words, not today.”
Hudson always knew Jorgine was a smart girl. “Be patient.”
Her hand gripped his arm as if to impress on him the urgency of the situation. “I marry Win in two months’ time. After that, I can’t protect her.”
“You could always hit him with a bucket.”
“Well, there is that.” She bowed her head slightly but not before he caught her mouth curve into a small smile.
Why did her smile make him feel so…elated? As if sharing her burden had somehow lightened his own? Strange, he’d never felt that way before, but then, Jorgine always had a way of playing on his emotions. “For now, we need to fill your bucket.”
“I thought Miss Lucille’s bushes would have died from neglect.”
“They’ve been resurrected.”
Her eyes met his, and his breath snagged in his chest. When had her eyes become such a silky shade of blue with threads of silver? Resigned, yet full of hope. Hudson’s chest tightened. Wakefield had better understand the treasure he had in Jorgine or…What?
“You had them pruned last winter.”
Her statement jarred Hudson from his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “Pruned them myself on one of my visits home. I wanted to make certain they produced this year.”
“Why?” She glanced up at him. “Mount Paran always has a good crop of berries, and even with the number of people in your household, I can’t see how you could use all those preserves.”
Jorgine had never seen people starved for food, had never known how much a handful of berries could mean to a person who hadn’t eaten in days. But then, how could she possibly know what these people had endured? It was a lesson she’d soon learn firsthand. “The people that I help, some haven’t eaten in days when they arrive here. Most arrive at my station with barely the clothes on their back. They don’t have time to hunt for food. Some barely have the strength to eat.”
“But they’re fed at the stations?” She hesitated as if gathering her thoughts. “You can’t expect them to keep running without food in their bellies.”
The outrage in her voice set his temper to flame. “Most of our departures happen at night, so building a fire, even lighting a lantern, could signal the slave hunters. As for them, they’d rather be hungry than go back to their chains.”
Jorgine went still beside him. She could destroy him and his family with the information he’d just given her. He’d be shot, but Liv and his parents, they would suffer the most.
“What can I do to help?”
The question startled him. Surely she was joking. But her somber expression told him otherwise. “You can’t be serious.”
Her expression tightened. “Why not? I can’t bear the thought of anyone going hungry any more than you can. If I can help, I want to.”
She wasn’t thinking. She wouldn’t even consider offering if she’d thought this through. “What about your fiancé? He wouldn’t take too kindly to you feeding the very slaves his men are hunting.”
Her face paled. “Win owns a slave retrieval business?”
Dear heavens, did Jorgine really have no idea whom she was marrying? “Not just slave hunters. Bounty hunters as well. The largest one of its kind. His family made their fortune from it.” He couldn’t help but ask. “You didn’t know?”
“Why would I? I’ve only met the man once.” Her mouth trembled as her words trailed off. “How could Uncle Richard do this?” She rubbed her fingers against her forehead as if trying to think, then straightened as if she’d made her decision. “You never answered my question. How can I help?”
Bright spots of sunlight dotted the path around them. Just beyond the last row of pine trees sat the clearing, the center of the operation. He was playing with fire, letting Jorgine into this part of his world. Sally could be ferried north, and Jorgine would be none the wiser. It was her simple request to help that had broken his resolve.
He only prayed to God he wouldn’t regret it.
The clearing was much like Jorgine remembered. Hundred-year-old oaks circled the field of wheat grass, the flat ground a perfect place for young children to play. Over to her left, a lush bush almost as tall as the crepe myrtle outside the kitchens at home bloomed, the ripe fruit large enough to be seen from this distance.
But there were distinct changes too. Two wooden sheds, large enough to conceal a group of people, hid among the trees on the far side of the meadow. Near the center, a few stumps lay in primitive seating arrangements with a small fire pit in the center for warmth.
Hudson pointed to the larger of the two buildings. “That’s where Sally will stay until the conductor comes to take her to the next station.”
“How many people does he take at one time?”
“It depends.” He led her closer to the first building. “We’ve had as many as fifteen or twenty at a time, but usually it’s more like two or three. A smaller number makes it easier to outrun the hunters.”
A cold shiver ran down Jorgine’s spine. She was bound to the man who paid the hunters. She pushed the thought away. Sally and these people were what mattered now. “How can I trust the conductor to make sure Sally is safe? Who is this man? Can I meet him?”
Hudson shook his head. “This person puts himself at great danger ferrying these people to the next station. I won’t increase their chances of being captured just to calm your fears. All I can say is to have faith, and trust me.”
“That’s easier said than done.” And growing harder by the minute. Why would God allow her to be put in this situation in the first place? Without her papa to guide her? Engaged to a man whose actions rivaled those of the devil himself. Did God even care about her anymore?
Hudson’s hand slid over hers. “God has a plan for all of this.”
She glanced up at him. “You sound so certain of that.”
“It’s what I cling to at times.”
Hudson had never spoken of his faith, at least not so honestly. But then, she’d never voiced her own, feeling it was a private matter between her and God. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice if I want to see Sally away from here.”
“You’ll feel better once you’ve seen the process.”
Her head snapped around. “You’re going to let me help?”
He hesitated. He couldn’t change his mind now, not when she found herself so desperate to do what she could for these people. Even if he turned her down, she’d find a way. Maybe Liv knew some way she could get food to these people.
Hudson licked his lips. “The truth is I need all the help I can get, but there are dangers to this. If we’re discovered, if anyone finds out that you’ve been helping the runaways, the life you have won’t exist anymore. You’ll be a pariah. And if Win finds out…”
Jorgine nodded. She didn’t doubt the man would probably kill her. Uncle Richard too. Still, her mind was made up. “I understand.”
He opened his mouth to speak when the creak of a wooden door turned their attention to the smaller of the two sheds. A few seconds later, a Negro girl, no more than eleven or twelve, peeked around the side of the building.
“Come on out,” Hudson said, waving her toward them. “You’re safe here.”
She took a tentative step and then another as if measuring the promise in his words. As she drew nearer, she straightened her lanky body to her full height. “Are you Mr. Hudson?”
He nodded. “Who might you be?”
The stench of pigs and sweat clung to her like a second skin as she stood in front of them, the fabric of her dress so sheer and torn, it barely hung on her slender shoulders. Her gaze shifted from Hudson to Jorgine. “Mama said I only speak to Mr. Hudson.”
Letting go of his arm, Jorgine set the valise down then dragged her lace shawl from her shoulders. She handed it to the girl. “My name is Jorgine, and I’m here to help.”
The girl glanced at Hudson. He nodded as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. Well, she didn’t care what he thought of her. She’d do what she could for these people with or without his help.
Jorgine crouched down and opened her valise. “Are you thirsty?”
The girl’s eyes grew wide, and she licked her lips. “Mighty thirsty, ma’am.”
“Then I hope you like lemonade.” She pulled Papa’s whiskey flask from her bag and handed it to her. “My friend Sally says I make the best she’s ever tasted. Sweet with just a little bit of tartness.”
The girl took the flask with both hands and drew a long swig from the container.
“You carry lemonade in a whiskey flask?” Hudson asked with a note of laughter in his voice.
“It was Papa’s.” She stole a glance at him and then returned her attention to the girl. “It may seem silly, but carrying it makes me feel like he’s close by.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I know you must feel his loss tremendously. I shouldn’t have poked fun at you like that.”
“Though you do seem to enjoy doing it.” Jorgine nodded toward the girl. “Did you know she was here?”
He shook his head. “But they show up like this at times, though usually not this young.” Hudson waited until the girl set the flask aside to speak again. “Now, what is your name?”
The girl wiped her arm across her mouth. “Mazie, sir.”
“What are you doing out here?”
A defiant light grew in her dark eyes. “I done runned away, sir.”
“But you’re barely a child.” Forgetting herself, Jorgine approached her slowly then draped an arm around her thin shoulders. “What do your parents have to say about this?”
Mazie leaned into her as if searching for comfort. “I don’t know where my daddy is, ma’am. Master sold him off when I still slept in my mama’s belly. And Mama—” She drew in a shuddering breath. “Mama took sick a while back. Miss Emma—that’s the master’s great-aunt—she told us there ain’t nothing left to be done.” Tears glistened in her black lashes. “Both Mama and Miss Emma said I need to run. Said the master’s been looking at me in a particular way, funny like.” Her face crumpled. “I didn’t want to leave Mama, ma’am. Not with her sick like that.”
A knot tightened around Jorgine’s heart. Poor child. Grieving the loss of everything she’d ever known and sent out into the world alone. She pulled Mazie against her, stroking her back as the girl cried. “Shh. Everything is going to be all right. You’re safe now.”
“We’ll take care of you.”
Jorgine lifted her head to find Hudson watching her with an intensity that made her feel vulnerable, as if he could see into every corner of her heart. She shook her head slightly. Why would Hudson care how she felt? And yet she knew without a doubt that he did.
Now was not the time for such thoughts, not with Mazie in such need. Jorgine met Hudson’s gaze. “We will help her.”
His soft smile made her stomach flutter like butterflies around a honeysuckle bush. “We will.”