The man looked him up and down, at his black woolen cloak and felt derby hat. “You know how to drive a runabout?”
“Of course I do.”
The man returned to brushing the horse’s coat. “I should be able to rent you something by Friday.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
The man shrugged. “I can’t afford to lose one of my horses in a blizzard.”
“It’s not far to Harvard.”
The man looked at him like he was crazy. In Virginia, an enslaved coachman would drive him, no matter the weather, but he had no power over this man.
“Are you Crandall?” Alden asked, pointing back toward the wooden sign hanging over the open doorway.
The man nodded. “Lowell Crandall.”
“What if I hired you to drive me?”
Lowell pressed the brush bristles into his palm, nodding toward the gusting snow that veiled the bank building across the street. “I’m not going to get stranded in this weather.”
“I’ll pay you twice your usual fee.”
“Twice of anything’s not worth my life or the lives of my stock.”
When Alden looked back at the snow again, he blinked. Then his heart seemed to stop. He thought his father might come to Harvard after him, but it wasn’t his father standing outside the livery door. It was his brother-in-law.
He glanced at the alley and then toward the carriages. The only exit was the one where Victor seemed to be standing guard. Alden slipped into the stall where he’d found Lowell.
The man eyed the door, and when he turned back toward Alden, his eyes narrowed. “I think there’s more to your story.”
Alden kept his back against the stall’s low wall. “There’s always more to a story.”
“You in trouble with the law?”
He shook his head. “I’m in trouble with my family.”
“Ah,” Lowell said. “I’ve spent a lifetime in trouble with mine.”
When Alden glanced over the wall, he saw Victor walking toward them.
“I would appreciate your confidence,” Alden said.
“I’ll determine that in due course,” Lowell replied. “In the meantime, this here is Daisy Sue. You two can get to know each other while I talk to this family member of yours.”
Alden sank down onto the wooden stool, the stench of horse manure stinging his nose. Thankfully, Daisy Sue ignored him, keeping her distance across the stall. As he waited, Alden silently begged God to convince the owner of the livery to conceal the truth.
“How can I help you?” he heard Lowell ask Victor.
“I want to rent a carriage and driver,” Victor said.
“I don’t hire out drivers,” Lowell told him. “Check down by the train depot.”
“No one there will drive in this snow.”
Through the cracks in the wood, Alden watched Lowell and Victor. As the men talked, he wrestled with his own thoughts.
If Victor was Isaac’s father, should he return the boy to him? A boy should be with his father, especially if Victor treated him well. But Eliza clearly wasn’t enamored with him. She was willing to give him away, and he feared his sister wouldn’t hesitate to sell him.
