Annalise heard voices downstairs and cringed. She always detested it when Percy Hiram, Dale Hiram, Edgar Oret, and her uncle had their “secret” meetings. Coarse words and copious imbibing always took place. Slaves, especially the women, were even more mistreated by Uncle Phineas and his cronies during these “secret” meetings. Annalise dared not be in their presence during these times. Even Aunt Lavinia found somewhere else to be. Annalise cocked her ear toward the conversations and thought she heard an additional voice.
She tried to identify the voice. She hadn’t heard it often, but it seemed familiar.
Then it came to her.
Sheriff Bleyer.
The thought of the lawman participating in the evil Uncle Phineas and his friends concocted made Annalise’s heart race. She had always suspected there was something not quite right about Sheriff Bleyer, even more so after his interrogation about her church attendance.
Annalise crept down the staircase as quietly as she could manage. Her stockinged feet padded on the wood steps as she gripped the handrail.
As if it could protect her.
She remained on the alert, glancing frequently to and fro as she proceeded toward the library, where the men were.
“I know there’s somethin’ goin’ on with that Reverend Matthias,” said Sheriff Bleyer. Then a pause. “Pour me another drink, Phineas.”
“Good thing your deputy is handling matters tonight, Bleyer. Wouldn’t do you any good to get caught drunk,” chortled Percy Hiram.
Annalise heard the chink of a bottle hitting a glass. She kept her head pressed back against the wall, even though the temptation to jut her neck forward a bit and see what was going on was almost impossible to resist.
“I agree with you on the good reverend,” snarled Uncle Phineas. “He’s too friendly toward slaves. Even saw him helping one who had dropped her load of parcels from the mercantile once. I say we do something about it.”
Sheriff Bleyer’s voice seemed too eager when he answered, “Like what?”
“You’re the corrupt sheriff, you think of something,” snapped Percy Hiram. “If we get him out of the way, the church will no longer be a problem. I reckon others in that place of worship should be hung for assisting slaves.”
“Don’t your niece go there?” Edgar Oret asked.
“Yah, I seen her there ’afore,” said Sheriff Bleyer. “Asked her about it once. She didn’t give no indication she thought somethin’ was amiss. But then, she don’t seem like the most intelligent woman.”
Annalise narrowed her eyes. She was indeed an intelligent woman! For just that comment, she ought to let Sheriff Bleyer know her opinion. But she stuffed down the pride that reared within her and continued to listen to the conversation.
Dale Hiram slurred his words. Too much whiskey perhaps? From the odor floating up the stairs, it would appear the men had overindulged in cigars as well. “Why don’t y’all do something about that niece of yours, Phineas? Make her stop going to church or something?”
Annalise bristled. No one, not even the tyrannical and dictatorial Uncle Phineas, would stop her from attending church and worshipping God.
“Don’t you see, Dale? Having her there can help us.”
“How so?”
“She can be a spy of sorts.”
Never.
Sheriff Bleyer let loose a mean laugh. “No way is she gonna agree to that. She ain’t like you, Phineas.”
“True. She is too much like Lavinia’s brother.” Uncle Phineas’s voice rang harsh in Annalise’s ears. “A pathetic coward if there ever was one.”
How dare you!
In preparation of spitting, Percy Hiram hawked, a gross sound that made Annalise cringe. Pity the slave who would have to spend an inordinate amount of time scrubbing the hardened sputum from the wood floor. “Can’t believe you don’t make that girl mind you better. If you’d force her to marry Dale, all this would be solved. She would finally be controlled the way she ought to be.”
The thought of marrying Dale Hiram sent shivers of nausea from Annalise’s head to her toes.
A sound made Annalise jump, causing her to smack her head against the wall.
“What was that noise?” Percy Hiram asked.
“I’ll go take a look-see,” offered Sheriff Bleyer.
Annalise sucked in her breath. If she thought marrying Dale Hiram a nightmare, she could only imagine what Uncle Phineas and his cronies would do to her if they discovered her eavesdropping on the stairs.
With the swiftness of a doe, Annalise retreated upstairs to her room. She was certain everyone on the plantation heard her pounding heart, especially Uncle Phineas.
Loud footsteps barged up the stairs. Would they find her? Realize she was the one they heard? Punish her?
Lord, please, I beg of You to protect me.
“Don’t see no one,” announced Sheriff Bleyer.
Annalise let out the breath she had been holding and prayed for calmness.
Moments later, she opened the door and poked her head into the hallway. No sign of Aunt Lavinia. Good. The woman was still reclining in her room.
The sounds of the men had grown louder. Annalise took a step into the hallway, keeping her hand on the doorknob of her room. For what? Security perhaps?
“Since we believe the good reverend is to blame for these most recent escapes, there is only one solution.” Annalise shuddered at the cruelty in Uncle Phineas’s voice.
Percy Hiram cleared his throat. “What’s that?”
“We hang him for his crimes.”
The men joined in a chorus of vile laughter.
“Let’s enjoy the rest of our evening, shall we? Tomorrow night, we’ll discuss plans to rid ourselves of that gutless namby-pamby once and for all.”
“Hear, hear!”
Annalise froze. She must, no matter what the cost, listen to the men’s conversation tomorrow. Then she would tell Matthias what she had learned.
Lord, grant me courage.
Not to intervene would surely put Matthias’s life at risk.
Annalise tiptoed to her door and cracked it open. She had wanted a somewhat peaceful evening reading a book in the library or knitting in the parlor. She missed those quiet times of togetherness with her parents.
They would never again be possible.
And there would be no peace while she resided at the Thorn residence.
The knocker on the front door had sounded at half past seven. Sheriff Bleyer, followed by the Hirams and Edgar Oret, entered the mansion.
Annalise had spent much time praying in preparation for this very moment. The moment when she uncovered her uncle’s plan to have Matthias put to death because of his work with the Underground Railroad.
Surely, Lord, that is not Your will. Matthias has been such an instrument in assisting the slaves to freedom. Lord, I beseech You to preserve his life.
The men gathered in the library, and Annalise envisioned Uncle Phineas taking the most comfortable spot in the room, the leather chair adjacent to his cherrywood desk. Rather than use the desk for writing, as most folks did, Uncle Phineas would prop his large feet on top of it, scuffing the fine wood.
It wouldn’t have mattered so much if the desk hadn’t been Father’s cherished writing desk. The desk where he so eloquently penned poems for Mother.
Uncle Phineas’s feet clomped on top of the desk, and she imagined him settling his rotund self into the leather chair and tipping the whiskey flask toward his mouth.
“Gentlemen, thank you for joining me on this fine evening.”
Uncle Phineas’s voice made Annalise’s blood curdle. This fine evening? The evening when you unveil your vile plans to take someone’s life?
“I’ve been doin’ some followin’ of our good reverend,” said Sheriff Bleyer. “Seems he does have a way with the colored folk. Like they trust him or somethin’.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yesterday, he walked by a slave and tugged on his right ear. Had to be some sorta code or somethin’. Reckon the slave seemed to understand what the good reverend was doing, for he nodded and went on his way.”
“Doesn’t surprise me none,” interjected Percy Hiram. “Whenever folks engage in illegal activities, a shroud of deceit under the cloak of a code seems reasonable.”
Uncle Phineas interrupted Percy Hiram with a curse toward one of the slaves, demanding she retrieve something to eat for him.
Likely Jinny. Poor, poor dear.
That wasn’t the worst the young slave woman had experienced at the hands of Uncle Phineas.
“Where were we? Oh yes, discussing a secret code between the good reverend and a slave. That’s good investigative work, Sheriff. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Rather than take offense, Sheriff Bleyer chuckled. “Even a man with no law trainin’ can do some investigatin’ when the moment calls for it.”
“Our goal is to prove that Reverend Sorenson is guilty. He has some friends that might look unkindly upon us apprehending the man and tossing him into jail for a hanging the following day,” said Dale Hiram.
Annalise strained to hear the voices. Dale Hiram’s, especially, was a lower, more foreboding voice. Schooled at the best of universities, and now a rich plantation owner, according to Aunt Lavinia, he would be the perfect match for Annalise.
Especially to secure the family fortune.
Annalise cringed. For one, there was likely nothing left of her family’s fortune. Secondly, the only man worse than Dale Hiram was Uncle Phineas. Even Percy Hiram wasn’t as bad as his evil son.
And Percy Hiram was a reprobate if there ever was one.
Sneaking forward as quietly as she could, Annalise was taken aback by the new portrait of her uncle that hung in the hallway.
Startling at the glooming glare of Phineas Thorn, Annalise jumped back. The floor creaked.
“Miss, are you all right?”
Annalise jumped again at Jinny’s voice as she rushed down the hallway with a stack of clean linens. Annalise held a finger to her mouth and shook her head.
The slave woman appeared to understand. She nodded and went on her way.
But not before Annalise saw the bruise darkening beneath Jinny’s left eye.
Jinny had to be next to know the taste of freedom.
Annalise slid against the wall again and did her best to listen to the conversation on the floor beneath her. The men had, unfortunately, lowered their voices.
Or perhaps Uncle Phineas had closed the door to the library.
Whatever the reason, Annalise struggled to make out any of the words being exchanged between the men.