Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(95)

I did as Mr. Spencer said and stayed indoors while he got Pan settled in the doctor’s wagon. I paced until Doc’s return downstairs, where he found me in the study. The old man went to the sideboard and helped himself to a sizable portion of whiskey, then looked me over as he drank it. He set the empty glass down with a thump.

“Mind if I ask why you come all the way down here for him?” he asked.

“I promised his father I would find him,” I said.

He grunted. “You best take care. Thomas is going to have it out for you. By now he’s got to know that you’re involved.”

“Thank you for the warning,” I said. “I plan to leave by tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Sit tight for another week or two. Let Thomas’s suspicions die down.”

I already knew I wouldn’t do as he suggested. By tomorrow I planned to be in Edenton, on the first coach out. “Can you tell me where you’re taking the boy?” I asked.

“The less you know, the better. All’s I can say for now is that we’re gonna try to get him out of here in one piece. Spencer said the boy’s got a place to go in Williamsburg?”

“He does,” I said. I wanted to say more to thank this man, but he left abruptly, and soon after, his wagon rolled away. I watched from behind the slats of the window blinds and wondered how they managed to cram Pan into the hiding place under the wagon seat. I hated to think of how uncomfortable and frightened the boy must be, but I reminded myself that he was on his way to freedom. And tomorrow, in spite of Doc’s warnings, I would leave, too.

As I watched the dust from the wagon settle on the empty road, Clora called me from the head of the stairs. “Mr. Burton! Miss Addy wantin’ to see you.”

I found Adelaide propped up in her bed, with Patricia and Clora on either side, eager to serve her. Although the patient was smiling, her face was drawn, and she soon sent the two other girls off on a chore. “Has the wagon left?” she asked as soon as we were alone.

“Yes,” I said. “A few minutes ago.”

“Oh, good.” She sighed. “Doc McDougal is such a fine man, don’t you think?”

“I do,” I said. “He is a family friend?”

“He and my grandfather grew up together,” she said. “Daddy knew him when he was a little boy. Now he and Daddy often work together.” She looked at me from under her lashes. Where before I would have thought she was playing at being coy, now I saw she was trying to read me.

“I see,” I said. “And you help them as well?”

“Mr. Burton, I have been told,” she said, looking at me sideways, “the less said, the better.”

“Of course.” I smiled. “And we must respect that.”

“Unless you have a question that I feel obliged to answer?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Miss Adelaide!” I chuckled and shook my head. “You are a prize! After I leave, you must promise to write to me, and you must not stop those letters until after you are safely married. I can only imagine the havoc you will wreak and the hearts you will break. Your letters will be more intriguing than any novel.”

“Indeed!” she agreed, giving a sly smile, but I sensed that underneath her facade, she was as worried about the safety of Pan as I was.


OUR CONCERNS WERE justified. In under two hours, Doc McDougal’s carriage returned. When Mr. Spencer rushed out, he found Doc slumped to the side with chest pains severe enough that he could not continue on. Mr. Spencer and I helped the old man into the study while Sam drove the carriage into the barn. “Give me a stiff one,” Doc directed Mr. Spencer.

The old man downed the whiskey, then held out his glass again, but before it could be refilled, Doc slid to the floor. For a long moment, Mr. Spencer and I stared in disbelief and, though we were soon on our knees beside him, the old man was already gone.


AN HOUR OR so later, a shaken Mr. Spencer laid out his plan to me. He would take Doc’s body to his son’s home some two hours away. “The boy will have to stay hidden in the barn,” he said. “I’ll try to make it back here before sunrise. Then I might have to drive him out myself.” The strain had drained all healthy color from his face.

“Is that the only option?” I asked.

“I need some time to think it through,” he said, “but I’ll have it figured out by the time I return. Meanwhile, you stay inside this house. Don’t go out to see the boy, and whatever you do, don’t bring him in with you. It’s too dangerous.” He handed over a pistol. “Keep this on you,” he said. “If there are intruders, use it. Sam will be on the lookout in the barn, and he is armed as well.”

When the wagon left, there was some relief in knowing that Pan was not on it. Though dark clouds were gathering, it was so beastly hot that I doubted the boy could have survived the heat under the wagon seat.

Alone in the study, I paced, desperately trying to think of a way out. I hated that I had put Mr. Spencer in the middle of this dangerous mess. Might it be best if I just took Pan and left? But where would we go, and how would we get there?


IT WAS RAINING heavily by nightfall, when Hester and I secured the house. She took Clora upstairs to stay the night with the girls, but I was too restless to sleep, so I went to the study. I wanted nothing more than to reassure Pan, but I had given my word to stay away from the barn. I thought to distract myself with a book, but I could not settle myself. My thoughts flew between concern for Pan and then for myself. Had Thomas already sent for Rankin? Would Thomas’s description of my eye patch alert him? How long would it take for him to come here looking for me?