When no one emerged, she stepped into the tiny courtyard between her building and the one next door. Then she rolled an empty barrel to the side and swung down the hatch behind it. After bundling up the hem of her dress in one hand, she crawled back through the passage.
A faint ray of light stole through a crack between the buildings, and when the passage opened into a narrow room, she saw the boy sitting on the dirt floor, his legs drawn up to his chest. Near him was her metal lockbox.
“I’m Isabelle,” she said, sitting between him and her gold. “You must come with me.”
He shook his head. “I ain’t going back.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said. While they needed to hurry, she knew that fear could immobilize a person—what scared someone could end up destroying them simply because they were too afraid to act. “Mr.Bridges says you’re from Texas.”
“He’s from Texas, but that ain’t my home.”
“I’d like to help you find a real home.”
He eyed the entrance into the passage. “He’ll catch me if I leave here.”
“I fear he’ll catch you if you stay.” She scooted back toward the passage. “I have a friend who can take you to a safe place.”
“How do you know it’s safe?”
“I suppose I can’t promise, but it’s much better than if you stay here.”
She retrieved three gold coins from the lockbox and pressed them into his palm for the journey ahead. Then she crawled back through the passage, not knowing if Micah was following her until she climbed out into the courtyard. Thankfully, he emerged seconds later, closing the small door as she dusted off her skirt and pinned her escaping curls back into place.
Stephan stepped around the side of the building. “Here’s my friend,” she said, introducing Micah.
When the boy hesitated again, Stephan leaned down beside him. “There’s no telling what your master might do if we don’t hurry.”
“I’m afraid,” Micah told him.
Stephan pointed to his earlobe. “My master clipped off my ear the first time I ran away.”
Both Isabelle and the boy shuddered.
“I won’t tell you what he did the second time.”
With that, Micah agreed to leave. Isabelle draped the black cloak over his shoulders and covered his hair with her cap. She didn’t ask where they were going, but as the sky grew darker, she prayed they would be safe.
Two customers were waiting for her when she returned to the lobby, and she seated them in the dining room. Fanny stepped out of the kitchen, her flour-doused apron replaced with a pastel green one.
“Stephan had to fetch something for me,” Isabelle told her.
Fanny reached for a menu. “I’ll take their order.”
She didn’t know how long Stephan would be gone, and in that moment, she was grateful that Fanny was there to help.
Back in the lobby, she waited for the return of Mr.Bridges. Ross would say she was crazy to risk everything for a slave boy—a stranger they didn’t know and shouldn’t believe. He wasn’t proslavery, just probusiness. And now she realized, pro-Ross. It seemed he had no problem using people to get exactly what he wanted—the money for his passage to California, the ownership of a hotel, the gold he thought would make him rich.
The door bell chimed, and she took a deep breath as the inevitable arrived. Mr.Bridges stomped back into her hotel, along with the sheriff. Thankfully, they didn’t bring a bloodhound.
“Evenin’, Miss Labrie,” the sheriff said, removing his fedora.
She welcomed him with a smile. “Good evening, Rodney.”
Rodney nodded toward the man stewing beside him, still clutching a cigar. “Mr.Bridges here is looking for his slave.”
Isabelle stepped back around the counter. “I thought slavery was illegal in this state.”
“The federal government sees it differently.”
