Two Wings to Fly Away Page 7

  She saw Adelaide and William at a nearby table and detoured to greet them, people she considered good and dear friends and with whom she almost never shared a meal. As surprised as they were to see her inside a restaurant, they were even more glad. They hugged her warmly and asked Joe to make room at their table for her, Arthur and Eli, and while that was happening Genie whispered to William that Ezra MacKaye would be at the dress shop the following morning. William’s curt nod meant that he would be, too.

  And he was, well before Ezra arrived, giving Genie the opportunity to explain the circumstances that caused her to enlist his help. Before she could finish, William was shaking his head. The deep frown of concern that was tinged with fear spoke more loudly than his calm, reasoned words: “I do not think it wise to involve this man in our affairs.”

  “He’s already involved, William, because of the Cortlandt boy.”

  “Another reason not to like this situation: Cortlandt’s bank supports pro-slavery causes.”

  “And if MacKaye returns his son he’ll be indebted to him.”

  While William weighed this thought, Genie told him of Ezra MacKaye’s actions two days earlier inside Abby Read’s house, and she followed that with a recitation of his rescue of Maggie Juniper’s daughter from the slave catchers. He gave a resigned sigh and, taking Genie’s shoulders in his strong hands, looked deeply into her eyes. She knew what he was looking for and she held his gaze, unblinking and unwavering. “You will have Arthur with you every step of the way,” he finally said.

  Genie’s face showed her surprise, but it was brief. Then she laughed and gave her friend a quick hug. She should have known that Arthur was more than a smithy in William’s blacksmith shop. A mere smithy would not be sent to walk Genie to work every day, nor would he live in a beam-and-stone cottage adjacent to the stables where, she knew, several strong, fast horses were lodged. And she suddenly realized that she had witnessed Arthur working on long guns at the forge. Of course, he was no mere smithy. And as if he were privy to her thoughts William said, “We are in possession of several new weapons, which Arthur will go deep into the forest to learn to shoot. You will accompany him, Genie, please, and become proficient in the use of these weapons.”

  “Of course,” she said, recognizing that she had been given a look deep inside the steps taken to protect and safeguard Mrs. Tubman. “Perhaps Arthur can also teach me how to drive my cart and care for my horse, and you can tell me how much I owe you?”

  He was about to respond when the bell announced the opening of the front door. They heard Adelaide’s light voice and a deep male one, and they emerged from the back room to greet Ezra MacKaye. The two men shook hands as Genie introduced them.

  “The charming Miss Adelaide would be your wife, Mr. Tillman?”

  “Yes, Mr. MacKaye, I’m happy to say.” Then with a smile of apology, he begged Adelaide’s forgiveness and led Genie and Ezra into the back room where he wasted no time confronting Ezra. “Eugenia makes a convincing argument for trusting you, Mr. MacKaye, but I am not yet convinced.”

  “I can only promise you, Mr. Tillman, swear to you, that I will do nothing to harm you or . . . those close to you, and I can only hope that you will accept my word,” Ezra replied.

  “Your actions of recent days and weeks suggest that your word can be trusted,” William responded, scrutinizing the man, “and Eugenia’s opinion is a weighty one. Still. Lives depend on what we do and how well we do it. A mistake—”

  He didn’t complete the thought and he didn’t need to.

  “We’re asking and expecting a lot of you, Ezra,” Genie said.

  Ezra gave a wry chuckle and agreed that indeed they were, but he graciously acknowledged that if the plan succeeded both sides got what they wanted. Nobody lost. “But I remain concerned that the plan has so many moving parts and pieces—”

  “Easily remedied, Mr. MacKaye,” Genie said curtly.

  “As you’ve made clear, Miss Oliver,” Ezra replied with equal chill.

  William studied them, then reviewed in his mind the plan that Genie had outlined to him, and he quickly understood that the simplest, most direct option would be the elimination of the Cortlandt boy, which they could have done with Ezra MacKaye none the wiser—and he knew it. “We have no time to waste,” William said. “Genie, you’ll begin your lessons with Arthur immediately.”

  She nodded and wondered only briefly where they would go to shoot weapons without being heard and thought probably at the same location she would practice driving a horse cart without attracting notice: On the estate of one of the wealthy abolitionists who supported their cause. She could shoot the derringer. Could she shoot a revolver? If necessary, she thought.

  “He won’t balk,” she heard Ezra say. “As much as he despises his son’s behavior, he loves his son and wants his safe return. If he has received the ransom note he will know that the boy is in grave danger. He will pay what I ask.”

  “Then we will meet again at first light in the morning to—” William hesitated briefly and smiled at Ezra, “—to put all those moving parts and pieces in order. At the stables. Genie will show you where, Mr. MacKaye.”

  Ezra nodded his assent even as he wondered what lessons Genie was to begin with Arthur, and who Arthur was.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Maggie Juniper locked the scullery door behind the two hired servant girls who cleaned the kitchen after breakfast and dinner—the two meals served daily in the Read House. The two young women were part of a full staff that had been employed by Abby’s parents. Abby, however, did not want servants living in her house so she had dismissed the entire staff. She also wanted to foster the belief that she took in boarders because she needed the money. She laughed internally at the lie. She was an extremely wealthy young woman who refused to give a man access to her fortune. Advice her mother had given, and which she heeded. She herself was in the front hall supervising the two servant girls who came daily to clean the guest rooms and the public areas of the mansion. Aside from the paying guests, however, only Abby and Maggie lived in the house full time. Maggie did the cooking but not the cleaning; she was not a maid. She was and always had been a companion for Abigail. The fact that all the available rooms were let meant that Abby could keep the furniture and floors gleaming, the linens starched, the silver polished, the crystal of the chandeliers glittering like diamonds without having to touch her own money. She looked all around her. It was indeed a beautiful house, beautifully furnished. Her mother, wealthy in her own right, had had excellent taste. Charles was right: Abby and her house were worth a fortune. And that didn’t take into account the jewels he knew nothing about. Would never know anything about.

  Maggie put a covered plate of the evening’s meal and a pot of coffee on the stove for Ezra MacKaye. He’d sent a messenger with a note of apology explaining that the press of business would cause him to miss supper. Maggie was willing to wager that the business did not include dinner. And because she liked Ezra MacKaye, she did for him what she would not have done for another guest: She made certain that he would have a meal whenever he returned.

  ✴ ✴ ✴

  Arthur Cortlandt careened about the library of his mansion like a wounded beast. He bellowed like one, too. And, in truth, he was wounded: If pride and ego could bleed, the floor would have been soaked. “I demand that you tell me how you knew Edward had been taken even before I knew! You will tell me!” he bellowed. Again.

  “I cannot, sir, I am sorry—”

  “I paid you to find my son!”

  “And I have found him, Mr. Cortlandt.”

  “But you won’t tell me where he is.”

  “No, sir. I cannot. What I can do is rescue him—”

  “What I can do is pay the damned ransom and rescue him myself!”

  “Have you been asked for money?” Ezra posed the question calmly, softly almost, and Cortlandt stopped careening about.

  “Not yet, but I expect that they—whoever they are—now that they have my atte
ntion, they’ll say how much they want.”

  “It is not money they want, sir,” Ezra said in an almost whisper.

  “Everyone wants money!” Cortlandt replied in a bellow.

  “The men who kidnapped your son do not want money, Mr. Cortlandt, which is why they asked to meet with you in person. If they wanted money they would have asked for money and not for a meeting.”

  Cortlandt finally stopped careening and bellowing and looked at Ezra as if seeing him for the first time. “How do you know they asked to meet with me in person? Who are they then, and what do they want, Mr. MacKaye?”

  “They want to be the ones to decide where the trains on your new railroad line will stop,” Ezra answered.

  Cortlandt’s eyes narrowed to slits, and his lips flattened into a straight line as the businessman overtook the father. “The hell you say,” he snarled. “Who do they think they are to make such demands of me!”

  “Have they harmed him?” Emily Cortlandt asked, and both men whirled around to face her. They hadn’t heard her enter.

  “I don’t think so,” Ezra replied. “In fact, it is in their best interests to see that no harm comes to him.”

  “What do you need Arthur to do?” she asked, and Ezra explained that he had a plan (mentally apologizing to Genie!) to rescue Arthur from his captors without violence, but he would need to hire men and horses and wagons—and he would need to purchase chloroform.

  “Why such an elaborate plan?” Arthur queried, snarling now instead of bellowing.

  “The men who have your son are not bankers or businessmen, Mrs. Cortlandt. They’re thugs, hoodlums, violent men. I want to avoid shooting.” Ezra looked at and spoke to Mrs. Cortlandt, the real power behind the throne.

  “I thought you said they were businessmen!” Arthur accused. “Make up your mind, man!”

  “The men who arranged the kidnapping are businessmen, Mr. Cortlandt, which is how they know that you just bought a railroad, but the men they hired to carry out the kidnapping and hold Edward until they get what they want—they’re not good men.”

  “Yet you want me to hand my railroad over to them!”

  Ezra shook his head. “I want you to meet with them, listen to them—remembering that you don’t know what they want until they tell you—then convince them that you can’t make such a decision on the spur of the moment. Tell them you’ll need a few hours to confer with your partners. As businessmen they’ll understand that, and that will give me time to secure your son’s release.”

  “Why can’t I just tell them I know what they’ve done and demand my son’s return?”

  “Because you’ll jeopardize your son’s life and my associates’ as well,” Ezra said, patience waning.

  “I don’t give a damn for your associates!” Cortlandt was back to thundering.

  “You should, Mr. Cortlandt, because I can’t secure your son’s freedom without them.” Ezra’s tone was icy and he didn’t care if Arthur Cortlandt didn’t like it. He was tired of Arthur Cortlandt.

  “Give him what he asks, Arthur,” Emily said, and left them as quietly as she had arrived.

  Arthur Cortlandt wore his wealth around his waist and on his face: Both reflected his appreciation of good food and drink and his frequent indulgence of them. Emily Cortlandt wore her wealth on her body: Her gown and jewels were fit for royalty—as was her carriage and behavior. Her voice was soft and pleasant, her manner gracious, but she fully expected that her husband would do what she told him to do. He sighed deeply, a deflated balloon. “Even after all the hurt and heartache he has caused her, she just wants him back.” He sighed again. “As do I.” He opened his desk, withdrew a check, and wrote it for twice the amount Ezra was prepared to ask for. He knew that he’d not have time to get to the bank before his meeting with William Tillman, but he decided that even in the darkness before first light the vision of Arthur Cortlandt’s check would be proof that they could afford to put their plan in motion, and would be as well received as if it were the actual money it represented. He was proved correct.

  “Good work and well done, Mr. MacKaye!” Tillman said, clasping Ezra’s hand. He was the last to arrive, and the warm greeting and hot coffee he received helped to mitigate the frigid temperature outside. Four other people were present: Genie, William, and two men unknown to him. William introduced a wiry but very muscular, bearded man as Arthur, who nodded at him but did not offer to shake his hand. The other man was not introduced, and Ezra wondered only briefly at what appeared to be a serious lapse by William Tillman until he considered what he knew of Tillman: He was not the kind of man given to lapses in good behavior and Ezra knew instinctively that he probably never would see the stranger again. Or that his name would be recognized and it therefore would be dangerous for Ezra to know it—dangerous for both of them. Ezra suddenly was struck by the gravity of this undertaking—and the danger. He studied the three faces before him: William Tillman was not merely a blacksmith, nor Arthur merely a laborer, and whoever the third man was he could not be named. And Genie Oliver certainly was more than a pretty young woman who worked in a dress shop. In fact, she spent so little time there that she probably owned the place, and he smiled inside himself at the thought, amusement that quickly dimmed as he realized that he almost certainly was correct.

  “Now that Ezra has secured the funding we require, Genie will finalize the plan,” Tillman said in his quiet way, and all eyes moved from Tillman to Ezra to Genie, where they remained as she spoke.

  Ezra was surprised but pleased to learn that the railroad car where Edward Cortlandt was being held had been under constant observation by two sets of watchers, day and night. They were secluded in the woods across from the tracks where the rail car was parked, providing an excellent view of the car. Before he could ask, Genie reported that young Cortlandt was alive if not especially well late last night. “Apparently the young man drinks large amounts of spirits and then expels it all after several hours, something his captors would rather he did outside in the woods instead of in the closed confines of the rail car.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “From the description of his behavior it is possible that he is also being drugged.”

  “What description?” Ezra exclaimed. “Does he appear injured?”

  Genie shook her head and explained that young Edward was extremely unsteady on his feet and had to be practically carried into the woods to vomit. According to the watchers, he appeared more dazed than inebriated. “He doesn’t seem to know where he is or what he’s doing, is how it was explained, and this from a man who works in a saloon and is well acquainted with the behavior of drunken men,” she said.

  Ezra, wondering whether Eli was one of the watchers, thought this answered the question.

  “We must extract that boy immediately!” the unnamed man said with quiet urgency.

  “We’re almost ready,” William said, looking at Genie, and she nodded.

  “If that boy is being given drugs, I doubt that a physician is administering them. That means that a couple of barely literate hooligans are dispensing alcohol and probably laudanum, which is a deadly combination.” The unnamed man spoke again. He now sounded more angry than urgent, and Ezra wondered why.

  Genie’s breath seemed to catch in her throat and she briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them everyone was watching her. Recovering her breath, she said, “Since we pledged to rescue the young man we will move tonight, late, when they all are slowed and dimmed by drink. However, there are two potential problems: Though there are two men in the rail car guarding young Cortlandt, a third man arrives daily with provisions. He is on horseback and does not remain overnight, but he adheres to no schedule so we should be prepared to deal with him as well. The more serious concern is that both kidnappers are armed. It is our wish and our intention to subdue them with the chloroform. If, however, it becomes necessary, we will fight fire with fire.” She paused and looked directly at Ezra. “It will fall to you to move immediately and quickly to apprehend the
boy.”

  He nodded, then said, “If I may ask: Who owns that rail car, why is it empty, and can it be moved?”

  “Good questions all,” the unnamed man responded. “Yes, it can be moved and it will be moved as soon as it is emptied of its current occupants. And I suppose the most accurate answer is that it belongs to no one: It was abandoned by a company recently bankrupt and subsequently absorbed by one Arthur Cortlandt. So, I suppose that technically and legally it belongs to him, though I doubt he is aware of its existence.”

  “Do the men who orchestrated Edward’s kidnapping know that his father ‘technically’ owns that rail car?” Ezra asked.

  The unnamed man gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Almost certainly,” he replied, but if he planned to elaborate, the words were lost at the sound of the stable door opening. At the same moment revolvers appeared in the hands of Arthur and Genie and were aimed at the door. Eli rushed in, breathless, filthy, and stinking like a swamp.

  “They movin’ the train car!” he said in a choked whisper. “By noontime today!”

  For a stunned moment no one could speak as they took in Eli’s words and their potential impact on what was already a daring and dangerous plan.

  “Which direction?” the nameless man demanded.

  “To the junction, the man who brings the food said,” Eli replied with a hint of confusion. He didn’t know what a junction was but he did know this: “And he was still there when I left to come tell y’all. Him and three horses.” Three horses, not four. There was no horse for Edward Cortlandt, so either they planned to release him . . . or he wouldn’t need one.