the slave-catcher?” I demanded.
“I’ve no idea,” said Hay. “Don’t get too many ’round Springfield, do we? Maybe Billy would know.”
“You didn’t get a description?”
“The fellow on the street said he didn’t recognize him neither. Said he had an ugly smile. Oh, and he was wearin’ a straw hat, an old torn one.”
“That was no slave-catcher,” I said. “That was the poorhouse master, Hathaway.”
“From what you’ve described,” Lincoln said, “slave catching could easily be a side dish for him.”
“As could kidnapping white women and passing them along.” I shuddered. “I’ve got to go after them at once.”
I released my grip on Hay, who staggered away and was immediately grabbed up again, this time by Sheriff Hutchason.
“Who’s caring for Molly?” demanded Hutchason.
“No one, Sheriff,” said Hay. “She was alone, shoutin’ out the window for somebody to help, when I happened by lookin’ for Miss Patterson.”
The sheriff gave a loud, fearful wail—no one in town had ever considered that the massive Sheriff Humble Hutchason might be afraid of anything—and the singular noise put an end to the chaos. In short order, Judge Thomas adjourned court for the day, telling the jury to come back in the morning. The sheriff and Dr. Patterson made ready to depart for the Hutchason house, the doctor agreeing to Hutchason’s plea that he avoid any of his modern methods in helping bring Molly’s labors to a successful conclusion.
“Find them, Speed, and bring them home safely,” Patterson said as he was led out by the distraught Hutchason.
“I fully intend to,” I said, “but not for your sake. It’s not Miss Patterson’s fault she was burdened by a father like you.” Patterson grunted, but I turned my back on him before he could say anything else.
“Let me walk with you for a moment,” said Lincoln, taking my arm. We pushed our way through the departing crowd, which was rumbling with a combination of disappointment that there was to be no hanging tonight after all and excitement for whatever the next morning might bring. Outside, we found a comparatively deserted corner of the square.
“I haven’t another moment to lose,” I said.
“Your bondswoman Phillis is in great jeopardy,” Lincoln said, giving me a severe look. “Without papers proving her identity, she has no rights whatsoever. And neither, I needn’t remind you, do you over her, not in this state. I told you you were being reckless in the extreme in allowing her to be brought here.”
“Whatever the slave’s fate, I’ll be fine,” I said, my temper rising. I could not understand Lincoln’s interest in her. “I barely know the woman. But if anything happens to Martha, I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
“I can hardly believe this fellow Hathaway took your sister and Miss Patterson,” said Lincoln. “Seizing a Negro woman without papers is perfectly legal. But kidnapping a white woman is grounds for hanging. I’ve no doubt Hathaway is venal in the extreme, ready to prey on the unprotected at the slightest provocation. But I doubt he’s that stupid.”
“You haven’t met Hathaway,” I said. “Besides, you heard what Hay said.”
“I need Jane as my next witness,” said Lincoln. He worked his hands together with agitation. “She’s going to corroborate Patterson’s testimony about his creeping madness—at least the doctor said she would. Otherwise it’s just his own say-so.”
“I don’t mind telling you I’ve no interest in helping your defense,” I replied. “Not after hearing Patterson’s testimony today. But I have to find Martha. And if by chance I locate Miss Patterson at the same time—well, I suppose I won’t stand in front of her testifying.”
I turned to leave and then asked, “Will the judge hold the trial for her?”
Lincoln shook his head. “I doubt it greatly,” he said. “Either she’s here first thing in the morning, ready to testify, or we’ll go directly to closing argument. Either way, Patterson’s fate will be sealed tomorrow.”
“Good,” I said, and I hurried off toward van Hoff’s stables.
Fifteen minutes later, I set off astride Hickory. On horseback, I could make much faster time than Hathaway could in whatever sorry cart he was driving. But I didn’t know how much of a head start he had.
As I raced through the prairie, I found myself repeating Lincoln’s phrase in my mind. Ready to prey on the unprotected at the slightest provocation. The description applied to all too many people these days, especially in these economic times. The sun was fading behind us now, sending up lengthening shadows across our path. It would be dusk before long.
As Hickory