Her hands trembled with anger. It was a familiar story, both of men losing their money in the gambling saloons and of slave owners venting their fury on their slaves.
Isabelle opened the door wide. “I’ll help you clean up.”
“There’s no time.” Stephan glanced back over his shoulder. “We need to hide her.”
Isabelle directed the woman toward the room behind her. “You can rest on my bed for a moment.”
When she left, Isabelle turned back toward her steward. “Where did you find her?”
“I saw her yesterday near the riverfront. When her master was distracted, I told her about a safe house for runaway slaves.”
As much as she wanted to know the location of this house, she knew it would be better for all of them if it remained a secret. “Did she come tonight?”
He nodded. “Mr.Webb passed out, and she was able to escape.”
She was glad Stephan had brought her here, but the rugged hiding place between the walls downstairs was no place for an injured woman. “Can you take her back to the house?”
“It’s no longer safe,” he said, shaking his head. “Rodney is there, searching every crevice. Her owner is spitting mad.”
“It looks like he already took out his rage on her.”
“Unfortunately, there’s more to be had.”
Isabelle shuddered. They had no choice, then. “I’ll hide her right now.”
But there was no time to move the woman to the lobby. Someone began pounding on the front door of her hotel, the sound thundering across the dining room. A tremor shot down her spine, and when she looked back at Stephan, she saw fear reflected in his eyes.
“Take her through my window,” she urged, pulling him into the sitting room. “Sing Ye will hide her until you and your friends find another safe place.”
She didn’t want to endanger Sing Ye, but she would want to help. And Isabelle prayed that Nicolas would want to help too.
“I’ll take care of whoever’s at the front door,” she said, trying to assure him.
Stephan hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. “I fear they’ll harm anyone who gets in their way.”
She nudged him forward. “I won’t get in their way.”
The hammering rattled the glass windows, and she realized whoever was out there intended to enter her hotel whether or not she unlocked the door. Best that she let them in on her own terms. She called out that she was coming, though she doubted anyone could hear her voice over the incessant noise.
In the lobby, she set her candle on the counter and lifted the window curtain. Outside was the sheriff with one of his two deputies. Once Rodney saw her, he stopped pounding.
She resituated her dressing gown, as if he’d just awakened her, before opening the door. Both men stormed into her lobby.
She reached for her candle and held it to her chest. “What’s happened?” she demanded, her voice brimming with concern.
“I’m sorry, Miss Labrie,” Rodney said. “We have to search your hotel.”
She followed him into the dining room. “What are you searching for?”
“We’re looking for another runaway.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’m collecting people?”
“I surely hope not, at least not other people’s property, but seeing as Mr.Bridges never did find his slave, I have to start here.”
She glanced up at the staircase. “Can’t it wait a few more hours?”
“I’m afraid not.” He waved a piece of paper in front of her. “This is a warrant from the judge.”
