“I ran to the Stengers’ house just down the street, but no one was there, so I snuck back, took the keys off the hook in the kitchen, and stole William’s car, but there’s something wrong with it, one wheel is wobbling. I almost ran into a ditch.”
I want to ask what started the row. Had Mr. MacIntosh been drinking again? Has this been going on since the last incident? But it doesn’t matter. She and baby Willie are here, and sometime tonight or tomorrow William will come to that conclusion.
“Did Mary knock him out or just stun him? Was he conscious when you left?” I’m trying to figure out how much time we have.
“He was just stunned but still drunk. Mary wouldn’t come with me. I begged her, but she wouldn’t. She just stood over him with what was left of the mirror . . . I need to get a train to Baltimore.” She looks wildly around the room, as if expecting a locomotive and coach to pull up on the porch.
“I thought William would change . . . that his drinking and outbursts were the result of stress, but I’m beginning to think he has a mean streak and his troubles have just brought it out of him. I’ve seen him strike his men in the past; now he’s turning on me. I’m going back to my family. This is it. I’m done trying.”
The rain starts up again, slashing the house at an angle. It roars so loud we have to raise our voices. With the storm it’s not likely that the angry husband, with or without the sheriff, will come tonight. We just need to get Katherine out by morning.
I take a deep breath. “Can you eat, Katherine? We have food on the stove. William won’t come for you until the rain stops. The weather’s too bad. By the morning, we’ll get you somewhere safe.” I say this authoritatively, but am I so sure? Who knows what the enraged man will do?
“We’re getting ourselves in way too deep,” Bitsy mumbles after moving the car into the barn, out of sight. We are sitting at the kitchen table eating our reheated fried potatoes. Katherine is upstairs exhausted, sleeping in my bed with little Willie.
“What?”
“Black folks don’t need to get involved with the law.”
“Well, we can’t just send Katherine and the baby out in the storm.”
Bitsy shrugs. “She should have stayed at the Stengers’ or run to the sheriff. This isn’t going to end good.”
I’m surprised and a little miffed at this turn in my friend. “How about your mom? She didn’t hesitate to help. Mary hit Mr. Mac-Intosh in the head to save Katherine.”
“You think she’ll have a job tomorrow? She’ll be lucky not to be arrested for assault. A black woman beating on a white man?” Bitsy pushes her chair back, drops her plate into the sink, and stomps upstairs, each footstep a warning.
More Trouble
All night, I lie wide awake on the sofa, staring at the crack in the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do. We’ve got William’s car, but Katherine says it’s not running well and I’d be afraid to drive it to Torrington. What if we lose control and run into a ditch? There’s that bad place along the river with the steep bank. Can I ask Hester for a favor again? Who else is there? Where will we hide Katherine if the law comes?
The rain fades, then stops. Lightning flashes far off to the east. Dawn. The sound of the dogs barking. The distant roar of a vehicle. Damn! MacIntosh didn’t waste any time. I fumble for my glasses, wipe what little sleep I got out of my eyes, and step to the window. Far down Wild Rose, passing the Maddocks’ place, a black sedan churns slowly uphill. It slides back and forth, rolls into a muddy ditch, and comes out again, relentlessly chugging on.
“Bitsy, Katherine! Wake up! We got company!” I take the stairs two at a time, throw open the bedroom doors. “Someone in a black auto is coming up Wild Rose Road.” The injured woman rubs her face as if coming out of one nightmare into another.
“Come on! Come on!” I gently shake her arm. “Get moving.” Bitsy has already pulled up her slacks and is throwing Katherine and the baby’s things into the valise.
“Take Katherine and little Willie out the back door and hide in the barn,” I order. “Watch through the cracks, and the three of you be prepared to head over the mountain on Star if someone comes out there. Ride fast, to Hazel Patch. Reverend Miller will protect you. Forget the car; whoever is coming will just chase you down.”
Bitsy does what I tell her and has the mother and child through the back door and out of sight by the time the mud-spattered vehicle pulls up to the gate. It’s not William MacIntosh but the sheriff and one of the city lawmen.
I straighten the quilt on the end of the sofa and scan for anything that belongs to Katherine. A baby blanket is on the floor, and I kick it under the piano. Then I open the blue door to meet the men as they step up on the porch.
“Patience Murphy?” the sheriff begins. He’s a tall man with very blue eyes, the type who can eat as much as he wishes and never gain weight, clean-shaven with a scar straight across his chin.
“Yes, I’m Patience.”
“Sheriff Hardman from Liberty.” He opens his jacket and shows me a badge, though this is only a formality. We’ve seen each other in town. I turn to the other fellow, waiting for an introduction, but he’s silent as Mount Rushmore.
“Is your colored girl here?” Hardman asks. This startles me. Why is he asking for Bitsy? Maybe she’s right, just being black makes you a criminal.
“She lives here, yes.” I hate the way he asks for my colored girl, but I don’t make an issue of it. I have enough trouble without getting into that. “But she’s not at home.”
“Can you tell me where I can find her? Mary Proudfoot, her mother, had an accident and was rushed to the doctor.”
“An accident?” Where would Bitsy be this early in the morning? What’s my excuse? The sheriff doesn’t ask for her whereabouts.
“Mrs. Proudfoot fell on the stairs at her employer’s home. Mr. MacIntosh found her unconscious this morning and brought her to the doctor. She appears to have collapsed during the night.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch the other lawman step down from the porch, stroll around the edge of the house, and stare at the barn. Sasha and Emma start to growl. “Stand down,” I order, wishing I could signal Attack! The fellow retreats back to the bottom step.
“An accident? Mary? Is she okay?”