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  Mary Katherine laughed. The Declaration of Sentiments had been drawn up at the first-ever women’s convention and was essentially a list of transgressions men had the right by law to make against women in order to keep them dependent and beneath them. It had been drawn up as proof that, legally, men did have control over women. “M-may,” she said between deep chuckles, “maybe if you told him that Frederick Douglass’s North Star said that it was the grand basis for attaining the rights of women, then he’d be impressed.”

  Grace snorted indelicately. “Oh that would never work with Papa. You see, at the time of the convention, Papa said that Mr. Douglass was wasting his time by even attending.”

  Mary Katherine sobered. “He did?” she asked in shock.

  “Yes,” Grace said with a nod. “Papa is a staunch believer in second-class citizenship for women. More to the point, the women’s movement is not even a remote concern for him, given that most Negroes are enslaved. He said that even if the women’s movement obtained equal rights for women, they wouldn’t apply to us, as under American law, every Negro—male and female—is considered subhuman. And of course, he’s correct.”

  “Yes, of course he is,” Mary Katherine agreed, her thoughts now turning to their cause, and then she marveled at how they’d gone from Grace’s trying to tease her about kissing Jacob to such a disparate topic.

  “Mary?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you really let Jake put his tongue in your mouth, or was it just my imagination?”

  Mary Katherine stiffened, blushed, and then groaned. “Grace!” she said in admonishment, but she blamed herself. She should have realized that her tenacious friend would bring up the topic again. She decided that the time for denial was over. “I’m not going to discuss it.”

  “You have to, Mary. I’ll never learn anything if you don’t. You know my brothers. Do you think they’ll ever share their experiences with me?”

  “It was a kiss, Grace. Nothing more.”

  “Yes, but I don’t even know about kisses.”

  Mary Katherine was surprised and let it show. “You’ve never been kissed? Oh wait. Of course you haven’t. You’ve never been alone with a man, have you?”

  “I live with three overprotective bullies. What do you think?”

  Grinning, Mary Katherine selected a tea cake from the platter between them. “Well, I guess you’ll have to wait until you’re married to discover the wonders of kissing,” she teased and then threw her head back in genuine amusement when Grace shot her a disgruntled look.

  Chapter Seven

  “How do, Miss Day?”

  Mary Katherine looked up from the spools of thread she was arranging and into the shy smile of David Good. She smiled in return. He’d taken off his wide-brimmed hat and was holding it nervously. Mary Katherine’s smile widened. David Good was always this way around women. He had proposed to her but, unlike many of the men, had taken her at her word when she’d told him no. She liked to think that they were friends of a sort.

  “Hello, Mr. Good. How are you today?”

  “Oh I’m fine. Just fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking.”

  “You’re welcome. What can I do for you today?”

  “Well, for starters, you can congratulate me. I’m getting married.”

  “Why, Mr. Good,” Mary Katherine said with genuine delight. “That is wonderful news for you! Who is the lucky bride-to-be?” She made her way from behind her display case to vigorously shake his hand. Watching him duck his head in shy embarrassment, she wondered why God hadn’t seen fit to make her attracted to such a gentle soul as Mr. Good, instead of to an arrogant, stubborn man like Jacob.

  “Aw, Miss Day, you’ll make my head swell with such talk.”

  “Nonsense,” Mary Katherine said. “Your bride-to-be is indeed lucky. Now, who is she?”

  “Lucinda Williams.”

  “Well, she’s a lovely woman, and you are just as lucky as she.”

  “Yes, I am. And seeing as how you’re taken and are no longer available for marriage, I thought I ought to snatch Lucinda up as quickly as possible, before all the good women are—”

  “Pardon me?” Mary Katherine looked at him, thinking she couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “I’m sure you didn’t just say… That is to say, I know I must have misunderstood you.” It was more a question than a statement—a desperately hopeful question.

  Obviously alerted by her change in tone, David looked confused. “Uh, ma’am?”

  Biting her lip, Mary Katherine took a deep breath, praying she had indeed heard wrong. Rumors of any kind about her could hurt her and the business. “What do you mean that I’m taken and no longer available for marriage? How dare—”

  “Wait, wait a moment, Miss Day,” David said and held up his hands as if in defense. “I’m just saying what everyone else has been saying. I mean, it’s all over town that you and Jacob Adams are getting married—”

  He broke off when she let loose with a—well, there was no other way to describe it except as a—wail. She cut it short before it could get out of control, but still. David found himself taking a step back from her. Her eyes closed slowly as if she were in pain, and she began to mumble something under her breath. Shocked, he leaned forward a bit. If anyone ever asked him, he’d swear to the contrary, but he was absolutely positive he heard the words “ooh, that-that…!” and “double-damned pain in my backside” and finally “Lord, give me the strength not to kill him!”

  Unsure what to do, David simply watched her.

  Mary Katherine was barely aware that he was still in the room as, hands clenched at her sides, she paced back and forth, her mind in a whirl. That damnable Jacob Adams! She’d told him more times than she could count that she wouldn’t marry him, but he was determined to get his way. And now he was spreading rumors that they were going to get married.

  “Asa!” She shouted angrily for her new clerk. “He has some nerve,” she muttered between clenched teeth as she waited for Asa to make his appearance. “Wait until I see that big dumb ox! Oooh, just wait!”

  The skinny clerk appeared from behind a stack of cloth, and David watched Mary Katherine in awe as she gave him instructions in a low, fevered voice while at the same time taking off her apron. She was practically vibrating with anger. He never would have suspected that Mary Katherine Day had such fire. She’d always been so circumspect before now. He grinned as he watched her practically fly through the door, belatedly tossing the apron over her shoulder on the way out. He assumed that she referred to Jacob Adams when she said, “I’m going to take his fool head off!” right before she stormed out.

  Still smiling, he turned to the clerk. “You didn’t hear a word of that, nor did you see anything. Understand?”

  Asa, a sixteen-year-old, took his gaze off the door and looked at him long enough to say, quite clearly, “No, sir.”

  David laughed. The boy’s eyes were wide and his gaze had gone back to the door, as if he were waiting for Mary Katherine to come back and tell them it was all a big joke. “No, son, I guess you don’t understand. Take my word for it, though. You don’t have to understand, but you do what I say, you hear?”

  Asa nodded deferentially. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, now I’m gonna need a few things for my mama’s larder.” As Asa gathered and measured, David whistled low beneath his breath. He wished he had the nerve to hightail it over to the Adamses’ house, the place he was positively sure Mary Katherine was headed. It was bound to be entertaining. Fireworks always were.

  *

  Jacob sat in a big copper tub on the back porch off the family kitchen. It was his sister’s baking day, and the kitchen was too uncomfortably hot for him to bathe inside. He smiled when he heard pots and pans being slammed around and banged together. His sister was mad at him again. What else was new? He grunted in surprise when cool water was suddenly dumped over his head. “Thanks, Matthew, but I could have done that.”

  “It’s all right. I want to
talk to you. You know Grace is imagining that that’s your head she’s in there bashing about, don’t you?” Matthew asked as he took the bucket away.

  Jacob shrugged. “She’s not going, and that’s final. While Papa’s away in Hillsboro, I make the decisions, and I’ve made it regarding this next run. Grace is not going.” They’d gotten word that a conductor was unexpectedly needed to bring in two female slaves who had escaped a plantation in Virginia without alerting anyone on the underground, and now the network was scrambling to get everything into place. The women would need to be picked up that night. Grace had said it was her turn, but Jacob had ignored her. He’d go. “I can’t believe Papa lets her work on the underground, anyway,” he said to Matthew. “What got into him while I was away in Africa?”

  Matthew looked solemnly at him. “Grace is smart, careful, and circumspect. The underground is always in need of people with those qualifications. Papa realized that, and on the few runs he has let her go on, she’s proved herself more than capable.”

  Jacob only shook his head as he soaped himself a second time. “I won’t have it; not while I’m in charge. She’s just a female, and it’s much too dangerous.”

  “Have you the same concerns for Mary Katherine?” Matthew asked with a smirk. “If so, I’ve never heard you utter them.”

  “That’s different,” Jacob told him logically. “Mary Katherine is a stationmaster. Yes, I worry about her, and yes, it’s a dangerous position, but it isn’t nearly as dangerous as being a conductor. Conductors run more of a risk of getting caught. And besides, Matthew, Grace is our baby sister. We’re supposed to take care of her.”

  “Grace is no longer a child,” Matthew reminded him. “This is the third time in a very short period that you’ve stymied her because of your mistaken impression that she’s weak. You’re not treating her fairly.”

  “Grace needs to act more like the female that she is.”

  In answer, Matthew poured another bucket of water over his head. “Will you stop that, Matthew?” Jacob demanded and tried to wipe the excess water off his face with his hands. A loud commotion drew his attention and froze both men in their tracks.

  Skirts flying, face scowling, Mary Katherine came out of the house like a whirlwind. “How dare you, Jacob Adams!” she demanded as she stomped onto the porch, apparently unaware that he was in the middle of taking a bath. “Who on God’s green earth do you think you are, telling people that we’re getting married? Just because I’ve let you take a few liberties does not mean—”

  Matthew, who had picked up another bucket of water, chose that moment to dump it over his brother’s head.

  And just like that, Mary Katherine stopped. Suddenly wholly—and painfully—cognizant of what she was looking at, she stopped everything: talking, moving, and for a brief moment, even breathing. For Mary Katherine, the world simply stilled and became a place where nothing else existed but Jacob’s bare chest.

  Gaze stuck well below his chin, she took it all in, her body in a completely inappropriate heightened sense of awareness. Her nipples beaded to push into the binding beneath her dress, and that place underneath her skirts, that secret nub she’d only recently allowed herself to caress when she thought of Jacob, came to life, stretching toward something intangible and causing her to catch her breath. And still Mary Katherine did not blink as she watched water sluice and drip across Jacob’s darkly bronzed and muscled chest.

  Oh, she’d seen men without their shirts before. She’d been on farms before, and men often worked without their shirts in the summer heat. That had been for utilitarian purposes, and so harmless, but this was so, so … Her brow wrinkled as she thought about it, still staring at his chest. Oh God, so sinful. Her mouth went completely dry, and soon after, breathing took more effort, and she found herself taking increasingly shallow breaths.

  Still unable to look away from his chest, she took a small step forward, her hand already reaching out tentatively to touch him. Her tongue peeked out to slowly lick her lips.

  “Mary Katherine.”

  At the sound of his passion-roughened voice, Mary Katherine raised her lust-filled gaze to Jacob’s to find him treating her to a heated, narrowed stare. “Yes?”

  “Go.” He put a hand on each side of the tub in preparation for rising.

  Mary Katherine fled the premises.

  Chapter Eight

  “We almost there yet, son?”

  For perhaps the thousandth time that night, Jacob pulled his thoughts away from Mary Katherine and her reaction to him earlier. It was a difficult thing to do, almost as difficult as it had been for him not to chase after her when she’d run out. The only things that kept him from doing so were the thought that he’d be seeing her later and the fact that he’d needed to prepare for the run that he was now conducting. He focused on his passenger’s question.

  Even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see it because it was dark as pitch in the woods, Jacob smiled down at the elderly woman at his side. Reassuringly, he patted the frail hand that gripped his arm. “Yes’m, we are. The house is just up ahead.”

  “And we are ‘spected?” This question came from the other woman, the older woman’s daughter.

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe we are expected,” Jacob told her. In truth, he was praying that Dr. Quinn, a stationmaster in Ripley, had gotten the message. Since nothing had been planned ahead of time, it was very likely he hadn’t.

  “Again, I want to apologize for takin’ you by surprise like this, but we saw our chance to escape, and we took it,” the elderly woman said.

  “I understand, ma’am. Don’t worry.” He was doing enough of that for all three of them. He’d made first contact to pick them up without incident, but he was still worried. In the underground, everything depended on precise planning, and this simply had not been planned. He feared it might be another trap, which was the main reason he’d been adamant about Grace’s not going out. He looked up and saw Dr. Quinn’s house up on the hill. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief, and that’s when he heard it. Whispering.

  He stopped and motioned for the women to do the same. He closed his eyes to better focus, and he heard more whispering. It was coming from the left of them, and there were two people, both male. Jacob didn’t smell sulfur or brimstone, so that was good. He still had to be careful, though, and looking at the women, he motioned for them to hide behind a wide tree to his right. He’d planned to hide too, but it was too late; the men would be on him in a matter of seconds.

  Wincing, he pulled the brim of his hat low over his face and stepped out in front of them so it wouldn’t look like he’d been hiding. “How do, sirs?” he said in a crisp British accent, trying to keep his voice respectful. He could tell they were surprised to see him, and hoped that meant they weren’t slave catchers. “How are you gentlemen doing this fine night?” The two couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, but Jacob didn’t relax. It was often the young men who felt they had the most to prove.

  The two boys looked at each other. They’d already been confused by his boldness, but the British accent really threw them off. One of them recovered his wits quickly enough, though. “What are you doin’ out here this late at night, nigger?”

  The question was asked with a sneer, making Jacob stiffen. Again, he fought to keep his tone respectful. “Same as you, I expect—just taking in some lovely night air.”

  “Is that so?”

  Jacob nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “Where’re you from, nigger?”

  Jacob had had enough. He weighed the situation, sensing that the two were more afraid of him than he was of them. They had no weapons. He took a chance. “Is that really something you need to know?” He took a step forward so that he was towering over them. “Sir?”

  Now it was the boys’ turn to stiffen. They did, but in fright. “Maybe you don’t know this ‘cause you’re not from around here, but you’re not supposed to talk to us like that—”

  “What are you going to d
o about it? Either one of you puppies want to take me on?”

  There was a sudden gasp from behind the tree, and Jacob closed his eyes in regret as both boys directed their attention that way. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, particularly not any children. He reached out and grabbed both boys by their necks. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. And you know what I think, mates?” He waited for them to shake their heads before continuing. “I think, as I’ll be going back to jolly old England soon with me boss, it’s a good idea that we all three forget that we ever saw each other. Otherwise…” He let his voice trail off meaningfully.

  “Otherwise? Otherwise what?” one of the boys asked in panic.

  “Otherwise, if I ever hear tell that either one of you has been telling tales about me, then what I’m about to do to you will seem like a game compared to what I will do to you.”

  “What you’re about to—” That was all one boy was able to say before Jacob knocked their heads together, dazing them both. And one after the other, he squeezed their windpipes until they both crumpled to the forest floor in a heap of arms and legs.

  Jacob saw one of the ladies poke her head around the tree. He pressed his finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet, and motioning, silently told them to use the trees as coverage and join him. He turned and walked away. When he felt they were far enough away from the boys, he said, “All right, ladies. You can join me now.”

  They both crept from behind a tree. They’d been keeping to the trees as they walked parallel to him. “Did you kill those boys?” the old woman asked.

  Jacob smiled and put her hand in the crook of his elbow again. “No, ma’am. It was obvious to me that they’d missed their afternoon naps, and I simply made sure that they took them.”

  “Don’t you think they’ll tell someone about you when they wake up?”

  “I’m hoping they won’t remember me at all. You see, sometimes that little trick I did on their necks can make memories a little fuzzy. And if they do remember me, the fake accent will throw them off. AlsoI’m hoping I scared them enough that they won’t say anything about tonight, or barring that, that they’re too ashamed to admit that they let a Negro get the best of them.”