Bettina listened gravely, looked at her mistress, then at DoRe. “You need to keep Moses far away from the master. I know you can’t always do that. Keep your boy level.”
Moses cried out, “How can I be level when he’s hurting my woman? He beats her, Bettina. If she doesn’t do his bidding, he knocks her around.”
Bettina reached over, put her hand on his forearm. “Moses, trust in the Lord. You’ve trusted Miss Catherine and now you’ve trusted me. If this can be solved, it’s women who will do it.” She took a deep breath. “Masters sleeping with pretty slaves is as old as your name, Moses.”
“Beating them isn’t,” Jeddie couldn’t help saying.
Catherine loved Jeddie, not only because they’d played together and worked with horses since they were children, but because of moments like these. He was like a brother. She truly loved him, and it never occurred to her that he would want to be free.
As for Jeddie, he could imagine freedom, but not life without Catherine.
“True, so true, but the Lord has set this burden upon these fine people.” Bettina looked at DoRe with sensitivity. “Even Mr. Jefferson takes up with his beautiful Sally.” She inhaled again deeply. “Whether a woman wants the master or not, there are gains to be had. Gains, indeed. With those gains like a serpent’s tongue flickering comes the jealousy of other women, our women, their women and a few men.”
Catherine quietly affirmed Bettina’s thoughts. “Maureen Selisse more than fulfills your prophecy.”
“She would,” Bettina said with disgust. “Moses, hear me. You have been given a terrible trial, and so has Ailee. You must bear it as long as you can. I will set my lights to this—”
“And I,” Catherine pledged.
“But it will take time,” said Bettina.
As the two men prepared to leave, Catherine took Jeddie by the arm, walking out the other side of the barn so Bettina might have a few moments with DoRe.
“I hope the mare catches.” Catherine used the term for a mare becoming pregnant.
“I hope Ailee doesn’t,” Jeddie answered.
She squeezed his arm, then released him. “Jeddie, pray that she doesn’t, because Maureen will kill her. Remember, Mrs. Selisse is barren.”
Bettina now walked back to the house. Catherine hurried to walk with her while Jeddie returned to the stable.
“The sorrows of this life,” Bettina murmured, voice low.
“Come with me, Bettina. Let us speak with Father.”
—
Entering the house, they found Ewing Garth in his study, shirtsleeves rolled up. A sheaf of papers commanded his attention. He was a neat man; tidy piles rested on his desk. A graceful bureau, of bird’s-eye maple and crafted to his specifications, held his current papers, maps, and blueprints. He had it specially built five years back by a master cabinetmaker, Howard Holloway.
He removed his spectacles, turning to them, smiling. “Aha, I am about to be dragooned into something.”
“Yes, you are.” Catherine stood before him, as did Bettina.
She then concisely outlined the problem.
Face darkening, Ewing clasped his hands together. “What can one do?”
“You can buy Ailee,” Catherine firmly said.
Ewing leaned back in his chair. “My dear. I can’t buy every woman so used by her master.”
“Using is one thing, Father. Violating and beating is another, and don’t forget Maureen.”
“Feral, aren’t they?” Ewing blurted out.
“Mr. Ewing, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” Bettina intoned, her voice melodious.
Ewing’s hand flew to his eyes, tears rolled down. “Ah, my beloved angel.”
His late wife would quote this from Matthew 25:40.
Catherine leaned down to kiss her father. “She’s always with us, Father.”
“Yes. I lose my way. She brings me back. I will send Jeddie over tomorrow with an offer.”
—
Later, twilight filling their senses, a few bats zigzagging overhead, Catherine and John walked together across the lawn. She’d told him what had transpired.
In the distance they saw Ewing standing in the family graveyard before his wife’s handsome statue, lamb recumbent, holding a cross.
John Schuyler put his arms around Catherine. “Promise you won’t die first. I couldn’t go on.”
Surprised by this outburst, she said, “We do not get to pick our hour, but if God is kind, He’ll take us both at the same time.”
“No, me first. What about the children?”
She laughed. “Ever my practical John. Well, we’d better apply ourselves to the task.”
Monday, July 18, 2016
“You could have told me,” Harry complained to Cooper. They were in Harry’s kitchen, and had just split a piece of delicious carrot cake.
“Busy weekend and I worked all weekend. Little stuff, but endless. One fellow forgot his emergency brake and his truck rolled backward into the pond. Unfortunately, he was in it. Stuff like that.”
“Get him out?”
Cooper nodded. “Oh, yeah. Took the fire department, me, and his golden retriever. One of those weekends.”
“Well, so then how did Barbara Leader die?”
“Thallium chloride. The family had requested an autopsy so the body had been sent to Richmond to the state medical examiner’s. They found it in her system.”
“What’s thallium chloride?”
“Kind of like potassium chloride. Mimics a heart attack. Just stops the heart. Usually it’s injected, but she had no injection marks. You die pretty quickly if it’s injected, like a suffering dog the vet puts down. It’s quick. We’re hoping the final report from the examiner’s office can determine how this lethal drug got into her system.”
“Coop, could it be a mistake? An accident?”
Cooper shook her head, then added, “We’ve checked the usual. Financial problems. Marriage difficulties. Depression. Alcohol. Theft. Remember, anyone in the medical profession with a bit of brains can figure out how to steal drugs and then sell them. But Barbara’s life was in good shape, so that also rules out suicide. At least I think it does.”
“Do people use thallium chloride to kill themselves?”
“There are other ways to do that with substances more easily acquired, but I’m sure it’s been done somewhere by someone.” Cooper shrugged.
“I liked her. We all liked her. We weren’t close, but when we were kids it was a small community.” Harry crossed her arms over her chest for a moment.
“Turn on the TV, will you?” Cooper said.
“Sure.” Harry picked up the remote from the kitchen counter, turning on the large-screen TV affixed to a wall.
The cats and dog, asleep in their fleece-lined beds, paid it no mind. They were accustomed to Harry checking The Weather Channel frequently.
Harry flipped through until she came to the local news, which is what Cooper wanted to see. A remarkably clear picture of Edward Cunningham with local reporter Bill Coates appeared. Former governor Sam Holloway’s grandson was being interviewed regarding his Senate campaign.
“You don’t think there’s a war on women?” the reporter asked.
“That’s a Republican problem, not mine,” said Eddie.
“Mr. Cunningham, you are perceived as an old-time Democrat by many, which is really a new-time Republican. Two bills are before the state Senate, one on removing special requirements from clinics that perform abortions, costly requirements put in place by our previous Republican-controlled legislature, and another bill purported to close the pay gap between men and women for equal work. What is your position on both?”
“Well, Bill, I learned from my grandfather. He was criticized by the head of the Democratic Party in Virginia in the late sixties before being elected governor. My grandmother, a nurse, continued working throughout Granddad’s career. The party fellow said, ‘Sam, can’t you keep that woman in line?’ And Granddad quipped, ‘No. That’s why I married her.’ That ought to tell you how I feel about women.”