White Dreams (21 page)

Grady turned to Star. She nodded. “Go.” Grady led Hester Mae out the door and into Charles’s waiting carriage.

Renny came to Star and took her hand. “Will he be all right?”

She recalled her visions of death. Someone would die, but was it Renny’s uncle? How did he tie into this whole thing? Suddenly she just knew he did.

She shuddered and glanced down at her daughter, her own gaze questioning. This was the first time she sought to see if Morning Moon had any knowledge, and it felt strange.

Morning Moon shook her head. “The future has not revealed itself to me, but the danger has not passed.”

Her words chilled Star to the core, yet she realized there was no fear in her daughter’s voice. No despair. Just calm acceptance. It seemed Grady might be right about Morning Moon; the girl was wise.

Turning to Renny, Star said, “We will just have to wait.” She put an arm around each girl, and together they headed into the kitchen to await further news.

Across from Grady’s home in the park, a bearded man sat on a bench, presumably enjoying the spring day. Yet the Dragon was anything but relaxed. He had a score to settle. No one interfered in his business without learning his wrath.

A patient man, he knew all he had to do was wait. Soon, he’d have the slave back as planned, and she’d go to a brothel after he had his fill of her. Both she and the Indian bitch would learn soon enough that it didn’t pay to anger him.

Around him, women strolled past with their children. Across the way, two dogs raced over the wide expanse of green grass, their tongues lolling out of the sides of their mouths. His keen eyesight missed nothing, especially the sight of a young black girl walking briskly along with three young charges. Speculating, he studied her slim frame, slender neck and full lips, then dipped his gaze back to the swell of her breasts. She was young, not much older than the eldest girl in her care, but she was old enough for his needs—and right now, he deeded distraction.

The youngest child, a boy, ran back to his nurse. She bent and hugged him, ruffling his hair.

Thrown back in time, the Dragon recalled other hands—dark hands—doing the same to him when he was but a boy: ruffling his hair, rubbing his back when nightmares woke him, teasing him with a swat when he’d raided the sweets.

He’d trusted her, loved her—
and suffered because of her.

The Dragon stood, his breathing rapid. Never again would he trust a Negro. They’d pay. They’d all pay for what they’d done to him. He stepped back onto the path, intending to follow at a safe distance and see where the girl lived. This one might do, at least until he had back the one named Hattie. Coming toward him, a carriage rushed past and stopped in front of Grady’s grand white house. A man jumped out. The Dragon frowned when he recognized the suited form of the solicitor running up the walk.

He’d have to get that other girl later. She lived close by, surely.

He crossed the street to get closer to the O’Brien house. Swinging his walking stick, he noted a large man out front, wearing a flannel shirt and kneeling on the ground, pulling weeds, whistling as he forked. The Dragon didn’t dare get any closer. He sauntered in front of the house, his steps slow and measured, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He moved just far enough that a thick wall of shrubbery hid his presence. Stopping, he peered through the shiny green leaves.

Moments later, the front door burst open. The colonel and his solicitor rushed out, each holding on to a woman’s arm.

“Why would someone try to kill Baxter?” he heard her cry out.

One brow lifted. Someone had tried to kill Baxter Olsen? Frowning, the bearded man watched the three enter the coach; then it left, as quickly as it had come. Moving as fast as he dared, the Dragon reentered the park.

Removing his beard and coat, he mounted his horse and rode for the wharf. At last, he reached his destination: Baxter’s warehouse. There, he dismounted and walked toward a young policeman guarding the door. He tried to enter but was barred entrance.

“State your business, sir.”

The Dragon lifted his brow. “I’ve come to see Mr. Olsen regarding my cargo. It was due in port three days ago.”

The young officer shook his head. “Sorry, sir, but Mr. Olsen has been taken to the City Hospital.”

Affecting shock, he asked, “What happened?”

“Someone tried to kill him.”

The Dragon widened his eyes. “Are you sure? What happened? Do you know who was responsible?”

“No, sir. Mr. Olsen was found by his attorney. It happened before the workers arrived, but it’s my guess that he fell afoul of a robber.”

“That’s terrible.” The Dragon paused. “Will he be all right?”

“Don’t know, sir. Pretty bad knock to the head. And with his age and all…”

Shaking his head in sympathy while striving to hide his fury, the Dragon asked, “Is Mr. Dufour about? I really do need to learn whether my cargo has arrived. He might know the status.” And he would most certainly know the truth of what had happened. There was no doubt that Leo was behind this. He was trying to make Hester Mae a widow much sooner than the Dragon wished.

“Yes, sir. He’s here. Arrived after we did.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, there he is now. But you’ll have to wait until we are done questioning him and the rest of the workers. I suggest you come back in a few hours.”

Nodding, the Dragon left and found a place to watch. At last, the police left, and he slipped the beard back on and entered the dark, cool building. He found Leo in the office, staring out at a small window overlooking the alley.

He closed the door softly as he entered, but the snick was enough to alert Leo, who turned and blanched. The Dragon pulled a gun from his pocket and leveled it at him.

“Good, you’re afraid. You should be after the stupid stunt you pulled today. I thought I told you not to rush things.”

“B-boss,” Leo stuttered. “The captain of
Freedom’s Fancy
returned to port with engine trouble. That old bastard Baxter found out about the slaves and fired me. I had no choice. But it’s all right. No one knows, so nothing’s changed.”

“Fool! Everything’s changed. You’ve ruined
everything.
” Fury at what this inept man might have cost him made him see red. It was Leo’s carelessness in the first place that had put this shipment in the hands of an unknown riverman, and now there was no way to unload the slaves without drawing attention to himself.

“I had to do something,” Leo whined.

“You blundered again. You should have waited, come to me. Thanks to your panic, I’ve lost my cargo.” Fury, barely leashed, coursed through him. “You listen to me and listen well. We are going to salvage what we can of this mess. I’ll make the arrangements this time. As no one knows you were fired, you’ll remain here, on duty. And you’ll keep me informed as to what happens to my cargo. And, Leo…no more making your own decisions.”

“Y-yes, boss.” The man wiped his hands down the front of his pants and licked his lips nervously. “What about Baxter?”

“I’ll take care of Baxter. I suggest you go console your lover. As soon as her husband is dead, you must convince Hester Mae that you two should marry straightaway.”

“But we can’t marry until she’s gone through her period of mourning. What will society think?” Leo sounded both eager and afraid.

The Dragon lifted a brow and waved the revolver. “If she doesn’t want to marry you, we’ll find a way to force her. Either way, you and I will become partners within the fortnight.”

“Partners?” Leo looked horrified.

The Dragon grinned and rammed his gun hard into Leo’s stomach. “Any objections?”

“Uh, no. None at all.” His voice shook.

“Good.” As Leo heaved a sigh of relief, the Dragon felt a reminder was necessary. “Leo? If you try to run or cut me out, I’ll hunt you down and make you sorry. Remember, I know what you look like, and you don’t know who I am. Understand?”

“Y-yes, boss.”

“Good. Now walk me out.”

As he did, the Dragon kept the gun hidden but trained on Leo, just in case the man tried anything foolish. He had no choice but to keep this fool idiot alive for now. But soon the man would pay for his stupidity with his life.

Grady and Charles sat on one side of Baxter’s hospital bed while Hester Mae sat on the other, her hand clutching her husband’s to her breast. She alternated between sobbing and begging him not to die.

Grady added his prayers for the man’s safe recovery. He’d always liked and respected Baxter—and had felt sorry for him. Only now did he realize he should have also felt some measure of compassion for Margaret Mary’s sister. He’d been fortunate to find love—not once, but twice. He was a lucky man indeed.

At last, he and Charles left, though not before making sure Hester Mae knew where to get hold of them.

As they drove back toward the wharf, and the place where Baxter had nearly met his demise, Charles told Grady that Olsen had wanted to see him in his office early that morning. If Charles had not arrived, Baxter might have been dead before anyone else had ventured into his office.

When the two men arrived at the warehouse, they found one of Baxter’s employees arguing with a ship captain. His name was Leodegrance Dufour, Charles said as they approached, but he didn’t know why the riverman’s words were making the man so angry.

“I want them slaves off my ship,” the captain was saying.

Leo paced before him. “You’ll have to wait until another ship comes in and can take them to their destinations. I don’t have anywhere to put them.”

Grady and Charles exchanged startled glances. They stepped forward, Charles identifying himself as Baxter’s solicitor. “What is this about slaves on board one of Mr. Olsen’s ships?”

Leo glared at him. “This doesn’t concern you, lawyer. I’ll handle it.”

Grady lifted his brow and addressed the captain. “Considering the state of Baxter Olsen, I think the police might be interested in his cargo. It’s a well-known fact that the man doesn’t support slavery. What’s one of his ships doing, transporting slaves?”

Stepping forward, Leo jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. “I’m in charge whenever Mr. Olsen is away. I authorized the cargo. The pay to return runaways is too good to ignore for stupid beliefs about equality. This is a business, and I made a business decision.” Leo stared them down as if daring them to object.

“The money? In Olsen’s books? How did you account for it? I’d like to see the paperwork,” Charles said.

For the first time, Leo looked uncomfortable. “Those are company records and not open to you, sir. Mr. Olsen has not authorized me to give anyone any papers—including his solicitor. Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind, I have work to do.”

With that the tall man strode off, leaving the captain cursing a blue streak. Grady turned to him. “I’d like to see those
runaways,
Captain.”

Though obviously eager to unload his cargo, the man hesitated. Charles stepped in. “As Mr. Olsen’s attorney, I authorize full cooperation and accept full responsibility, Captain. If you’d feel more comfortable, we can have the police there as well. I suspect this might be a cargo of freed slaves kidnapped to be resold into slavery.”

The captain paled. “Hey, I was told they were runaways. I don’t know anything else.” Agitated, he ran his hand through his thinning hair, leaving the strands tangled and standing on end.

“Then you won’t mind if we question them and learn if it is so, will you?”

“No—no, of course not. And if you’re Mr. Olsen’s attorney and willin’ to take responsibility, you can figure out what to do with ’em.”

Arriving where the steamboat was docked, Grady glanced up and grabbed Charles’s arm. He pointed to a man pacing along the deck; it was one of those who’d chased Hattie down the alley the day he and Star arrived.

“Praise be,” Charles muttered, glancing around. “Looks as though we are going to have some answers at last.” With the captain leading the way, Grady put his hand on his revolver. Since the day someone tried to harm Star, he had taken to wearing his gun.

Together, he and Charles approached the man, moving stealthily up behind him. The ruffian turned, but he and Charles each quickly grabbed an arm.

“Hey, git yer hands off me,” he sputtered. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Try kidnapping,” Charles said. “Remember the woman you were trying to grab? Turns out she was telling the truth. She is a free woman.”

The man’s eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed slyly. “That’s not what the boss said.” His eyes shifted from side to side as he searched for an escape.

“And who is this boss of yours?”

The man clamped his lips tight.

The captain jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s another man down there, locked in the room with the slaves.”

They tied up the thug, then Grady searched him. He found a key. Dragging their prisoner to and then tying him securely in the captain’s quarters, the threesome headed downstairs. As they passed two crewmen, the captain ordered them along.

Unlocking the door, Grady flung it open and stepped inside, his revolver drawn.

“Hey,” a voice shouted. A man struggled to his feet, reaching for his weapon.

“Don’t even try,” Grady warned, recognizing him as well from that day in the alley.

The captain ordered the two crewmen to take care of the ruffian while Grady and Charles checked on the slaves. Five women were slumped against the walls. After careful questioning, Grady learned all but one old woman had been freed, she and a young girl who lay in the old woman’s lap. Grady bent down to wake her, to learn from her own lips that she too was a free woman.

He pulled back the hood of the unconscious woman and stared in numb disbelief. It was a blond-haired girl, and her breathing was shallow. Too shallow. Her skin was pale, the same dingy gray-white of the walls. Grady felt sick. “There’s more to this,” he whispered to Charles. Even the captain looked shocked.

“Leo said this woman had just given birth to a baby. I swear, I didn’t know she was white.”

“Leo knows more than he’s telling,” Charles stated grimly.

Grady turned to the old black woman. She had bruises on her face. “What is
she
doing here?” He motioned to the blonde.

The woman’s swollen lips firmed. Blood leaked from a deep cut but fire lit her dark brown eyes. “They’s gonna sell her—her and them younger women to a brothel. I heard ’em talkin’. Me, I’s too ol’. They thinks ta sell this
ol’
woman to some new massa, but I knows they’s gonna kill me.” Her fleshy lips quivered. “I has a massa—he treats Tassa nice. They stole me.” She reached down to smooth the hair from the blonde girl’s face.

“I ’spect her parents must be worried sick. Sick,” she whispered, shaking her head as she stared down at the girl.

Grady turned as two police officers entered. He introduced himself and Charles, then explained everything that had happened.

One of the officers, a middle-aged man, smacked his fist into his palm as he stared at the white girl. “I’ve heard about the Dragon, but I figured it was just another story. No one could ever prove there was anything like this going on.” He looked ill. “That child can’t be much older than my own daughter. If this Dragon is responsible, we’ll find him.”