The crowd around him faded for an instant, and all he saw were hickory-brown eyes, laden with light. Those eyes, he remembered them now. They belonged to the beautiful slave girl back in Virginia, the one who used to bring coffee with jam and bread to his room early in the morning. The girl Eliza hated.
His stomach churned. Isabelle wasn’t a French woman from Baltimore. Not long ago, she had been Victor’s slave.
Had this man forced himself on Isabelle, like his father had done to Naomi?
He lurched forward to pummel the smirk off Victor’s face, but the miner near him reached for his arm. In seconds, a horde of miners surrounded both of them, a wall blocking Alden from his brother-in-law.
“Let’s take it before the justice of the peace,” one of the men said. “Judge Roth will want to resolve this tonight.”
Even as one man restrained his arm, Alden leaned down toward Isaac and whispered, “You and Isabelle must hide.”
When Isaac didn’t move, Alden nudged him away with his knee, praying the boy would run.
Chapter 43
Columbia
August 1854
Locked in the hotel room, Isabelle clung to Isaac on the edge of the bed, holding him like she’d done when he was a baby. And they cried together. Both of them were afraid of what Victor would do to Alden, afraid of what the man could do to all of them.
Even with the freedom papers hidden in the desk, she still feared Victor, but she wouldn’t let Isaac return to Virginia as his slave. Now that God had brought her and Isaac back together, she couldn’t bear being ripped apart again.
Isaac dried his tears on the back of his hand. “Why won’t Master Duvall let me be free?”
“Some people—” she started to explain, but there was no good explanation for what Victor had done. And continued to do. “It seems this man doesn’t like change.”
“I think he’s deranged.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“All I did back in Virginia was read to him when he wanted and fetch his coffee.”
She smoothed his curly hair back over his collar. “It’s not about the work.”
He turned toward the window and stared out at the darkness. Should she tell him that Victor was her former master too? And that Victor was also his father? Perhaps Victor had already told Isaac who’d fathered him.
He stood up, his shoulders slack as he slogged toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
He reached for the door latch. “To help Master Payne.”
“You can’t go to the court. Victor will take you away.”
“I have to do something,” Isaac said, the conviction in his voice as hard as the rocks bedded around Columbia. “He’s only in trouble for helping me.”
She patted the bed. “Stay here, Isaac.”
“I can’t. The miners might hang him.”
“They only hang murderers and thieves.”
“But Master Duvall said that Alden stole me.”
She groaned before motioning him back to her side. “Let me show you something.”
Kneeling down beside the desk, she folded back the panel in the drawer, revealing the hidden space. Then she took both keys from around her neck and unlocked Aunt Emeline’s box, removing her bill of sale and emancipation paper.
