Her secret could no longer be kept safe, but she was a free woman. Even the courts would respect that.
She prayed they would also let a mother keep her son.
She handed the remaining key to Isaac before showing him the lockbox. “This contains the rest of my money and the deed to the Golden. If I don’t come back, you and Alden need to leave for Vancouver Island as fast as you can.”
Tears filled his eyes again. “I’m not going north without you.”
She kissed his forehead. Then she slipped a dress out of the bureau—an ivory silk with French lace on the sleeves—and while Isaac waited outside the room, she changed her clothing before walking alone to justice court.
Two lanterns poured light across the judge’s small bench and thirty or so miners huddled together in the cramped space. Alden sat in a chair beside the judge, his jaw firm. Isabelle didn’t see Victor nor did she allow herself to search for him in the crowd. Instead, she elbowed her way through the miners until she reached the bench.
The judge was middle-aged, with a thick beard, and wore a formal black gown that made him look as distinguished as the judge back in Sacramento. She stood confident before him, glad she had worn her silk gown. “I’d like to speak on behalf of the defendant.”
The judge scanned her attire. “Are you his wife?”
Her gaze wandered over to Alden, and in his eyes, she saw compassion. And concern. He’d been caught in the middle, trying to do what was right in a system gone awry.
She faced the judge again. “No, we’re not married.”
“Then what do you have to say?”
“I don’t believe Mr.Duvall wants Mr.Payne or even Isaac. I believe he wants—”
Behind her, Victor shouted out, interrupting her. “She has no right to speak in court, Your Honor.”
The judge glared at him. “I will say who speaks in this court, Mr.Duvall.”
For a moment, she felt like that twelve-year-old girl again, forced against her will to become what Victor had called his bride. The pain welled up inside her, battling the confidence that she wanted her clothing to portray.
Slowly she turned to face the man who had wounded her deeply with his twisted version of love. Victor looked smaller than she remembered, and instead of the fine suits he wore back in West End, his clothing was filthy. Threadbare.
But the smirk on his face, that shell of pride, had not changed. “The law clearly states that a slave cannot speak in a courtroom,” Victor told the judge.
She lifted her shoulders. “I am not a slave.”
“Or any Negro,” Victor continued. Then he turned to look at her, a frightening smile on his lips. “Hello, Mallie.”
The same greeting he’d given her every time he’d awakened her during the night.
She opened her mouth, ready to deny the claim of her ancestry, but how could she defend herself? Negro blood did run through her veins, pouring down from her mother’s side of the family. But for the first time in her life, she felt the worth and dignity of her heritage. Even though her ancestors were victims of slavery, they had been courageous. The men and women before her didn’t just survive; they had persevered in the face of injustice.
And she would persevere as well.
She didn’t dare look over at Alden, but she turned back toward the judge and placed her freedom paper on the desk. “This is my emancipation.”
The man didn’t even look at the document. Instead, he studied her olive-colored arms. “I’m sorry, Miss—” he started, clearly confused about what to call her.
“Miss Labrie,” she said boldly. In the power of that name, she was exactly who she’d chosen to be and who she wanted to become—a courageous, educated, free woman who feared no one but God.
“Are you a Negro?” he asked.
“My mother was of African descent,” she said proudly. “Her skin was as light as mine, but the color of skin shouldn’t matter in regard to one’s testimony.”
The judge pushed her paper back toward her, as if her freedom was meaningless to him. “Unfortunately, your ancestry matters very much under the confines of federal law.”
She took her paper back, the value of it worth more to her than a thousand nuggets of gold.
“Do you still own her?” the judge asked Victor, promptly resigning her back to the equality of a cow or pig.
