Chapter 44
Columbia
August 1854
There she blows.
The words of Captain Ahab played in Victor’s mind as he looked down on Mallie, sleeping in her hotel room bed, just like he’d found her many times back at her room in West End. He’d bribed one of the men downstairs to unlock her door, saying he’d had a fight with his wife and she refused to let him back in.
He didn’t care what a measly justice of the peace said. Nor did he care about the ruling of any court of law or what his cursed father did to humiliate him.
Mallie was his white whale, his rose among weeds. He would not leave California without her.
Back in Virginia, no one would care about a manumission paper. They all knew Mallie was his, including Eliza. And Eliza would pay for stealing Mallie away and then lying to him.
He took a draw on the cigar he’d taken from one of the miners and let the smoke settle over her bed. Then he slid the bowie knife out of the sheath and held it up in the glimmer of moon. The light danced off it, a silver glint on the wall.
“Hello, Mallie,” he whispered.
She awoke with a start, and her eyes grew wide with alarm when she saw him and his knife. She sat up, pulling her bedcovers over her chest.
“What are you doing here, Victor?”
“Master Duvall.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I will never call you master again.”
He set the cigar on her bed stand and sat beside her. “So you thought you could run away with Alden Payne.”
“I didn’t think any such thing.”
He traced the line of her neck with the blade until it rested on her collarbone. “Were you seducing him too, under my roof?”
“You are mad.”
The tip of the knife pressed against her skin. “I’m going to win, Isabelle. Alden can’t have you any longer.”
“I don’t care if you kill me,” she said, but her voice shook.
“Maybe I won’t kill you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just leave a few more scars.”
“I’m not your property anymore.”
“You will always be mine.” He inched the knife slowly away from her neck and put it beside the cigar. Then he took his father’s crumpled manumission paper out of his coat pocket.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, holding it up in the moonlight.
She blinked. “I do.”
He held it over the molten edge of his cigar. The heat licked at the paper until he blew on it. Then it turned into flames, consuming the deed. When the fire got close to his fingers, he blew it out, the embers scattering across the bed.
“You’ll always be my slave, Mallie. And I will always be your master.”
She clung to the bedcoverings against her chest, looking at him with a growing confidence that disturbed him. She’d often fought his advances, but she’d never looked him in the eye.
“What if we make a deal?” she asked.
He scooted closer. “What kind of deal?”
“I will buy Isaac from you.”
“At what price?”
“At whatever price you’d like as long as you set us both free.”
A laugh escaped his lips, and then he silenced himself lest he awaken someone in the neighboring rooms. “I want both of you, but if I had to choose one, I’d choose you.”
“I see.” She took a deep breath, her gaze still fixed on his face. “I’ll go back with you, Victor, but only if you leave Isaac here. And you drop your case against Mr. Payne.”
He contemplated her proposal. It would make things much easier if she would go willingly. He wouldn’t really leave Isaac behind, but if he could appease her now, he would find Isaac—and her money—once he had her in chains.
Louis Gibbs had offered him six hundred dollars back in Sacramento for a slave boy. It was enough to buy passage for him and Mallie on a ship out of San Francisco. Then they could begin filling the farmhouse with more children, all of them owned by him.
“Isaac can stay here with Alden,” he said before leaning forward, slowly kissing her forehead. “You and I will leave in the morning.”
She nodded her head.
“We’ll celebrate Christmas at home this year.”
Isabelle crunched her knees up to her chest and sobbed. It felt as if Victor’s lips had burned her forehead, his knife piercing her heart.
She may no longer belong to Victor in the eyes of the law, but he wouldn’t relent until she went back to Virginia with him. She had to protect Isaac. And Alden. She couldn’t allow Victor Duvall to hurt either of them.
Her stomach rolled, her mind racing at the thought of being locked back in that chamber in Virginia—her personal slave pen, where she was subject at any hour to Victor’s sick whims.
Mrs. Duvall would hate her even more now, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She rocked back against the pillows.
Some judges esteemed moral law over a federal mandate, but it seemed Judge Roth would never give Isaac to her, even in her freedom. Federal law recognized the bloodline of the female parent, not the father. Isaac had been born a slave, and if she’d didn’t make a deal with Victor, her son would remain one for the rest of his life.
Victor desperately wanted what he couldn’t have; she’d known it from the time she was a girl. The more she fought Victor, the more he refused to give up. If she willingly gave him what he desired, he lost interest for a season, basking in his power.
On their walk back to the hotel last night, Alden had told her they would find a way to rescue Isaac, but only a miracle would help them now. Alden wouldn’t understand why she had agreed to return with Victor, perhaps even if she told him the truth about Isaac, but no matter what she must endure, she could never let Isaac go back with him.
Thank God her son was alive and free. She would cling to the hope of his future.
Standing up, she walked to the window and looked at the brick building across the street. Alden had tried to secure the room next to hers last night, but the hotel was booked, so he and Isaac had stayed in a room above the bowling alley. For just a moment yesterday, as they stood before the judge, she’d seen something new in Alden’s eyes. Wonder, perhaps. And dare she think it, something like love.
But she no longer trusted her instincts about love. Back in Sacramento, she’d thought that Ross cared for her and that Alden was a loathsome slave owner. Victor, it seemed, had messed up her ability to distinguish who she could trust and who was out to deceive her.
It was a foolish thought to think that Alden might care for her anyway. She was more than a tainted woman. She was ruined, as wrecked as the streets of Sacramento after the fire. Aunt Emeline might have called her Isabelle. Beloved. A daughter of God. But Victor would call her something else. Terrible names that no woman should ever hear, names she feared she would begin to believe again.
In the darkness, she prayed that Victor would make good on his word and leave Isaac here. And then she asked, if possible, that she could be free as well to raise her son.
By the time the sun rose, she had washed, dressed, and pinned up her hair. Alden knocked on the door at seven, and she opened it. He looked exhausted too.
“Could you sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not well.”
“I saw your lantern early this morning.”
“I was—” She paused. “I was praying.”
“Me too.”
She glanced behind him. “Where’s Isaac?”
“I asked him to stay and read in our room.”
“But the judge said—”
“We’re going to fight this. I’ll pass the bar and take it all the way up to the Supreme Court if I must.”
She contemplated again telling him the truth about Isaac, but fighting for her son in court wouldn’t work. The law wasn’t on her side. She’d longed to hug Isaac one last time, but perhaps it was for the best. If she held him in her arms again, she might not release him.
Isaac was free now, and she wanted him to be free for the rest of his life, not worried about the mother he’d left behind. As much as she wanted to tell him the truth—that she loved him with all her heart—perhaps genuine love meant that she needed to let him go. That was the one thing that Victor had never been able to do.
She stepped out into the parlor and locked the door behind her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t remember who you were until last night,” Alden said as they moved toward the stairs.
She shook her head. “I was a different person back in Virginia.”
“You were just as beautiful.”
“I didn’t feel very beautiful.”
“I didn’t understand—” He stumbled over his words. “I should have helped you back then.”
When he stopped on the top step, she looked into his eyes. “You can’t rescue everyone, Alden.”
“Perhaps not, but I could have helped you. Please forgive me for not fighting for you then.”
He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet she understood his shame. He was a victim of this institution as well. “You are forgiven, Alden.”
His face warmed with his smile. “Thank you.”
She followed him down the steps, and he offered his arm as they walked onto the street. For those brief minutes, she pretended that she really was Mrs. Payne. That she was honored and cherished by Alden. That she had a home to call her own with no fear of someone snatching her away. She pretended she could speak her mind in a court of law and rely on justice to protect her and her innocence.
But she was only a project to Alden, a defendant in need of a lawyer. Still, she feared he would be furious when he found out today what she’d offered.
Then again, he would only be angry if he cared.
Victor and the judge were waiting for them in justice court, but it seemed that all except two miners had returned to their claims this morning.
After they stepped inside, Judge Roth looked at the door behind them. “Where is the boy?”
Isabelle spoke first. “Mr. Duvall and I settled this dispute last night.”
Alden swiveled toward her. “What?”
The judge looked up at her, sighing. “Do I need to remind you that you’re prohibited from testifying?”
“I didn’t realize discussing a bargain was considered testimony.”
Alden stopped her. “I would like to buy Isaac, Your Honor. I will offer Mr. Duvall a fair price.”
The judge looked at Victor. “Would you accept those terms?”
He shook his head. “I will only accept Mallie’s terms.”
“And what are those?”
“That she goes back to Virginia with me, in exchange for the boy.” He looked over at Alden. “Isaac is yours.”
Alden stepped forward, his eyes panicked. “I will give you a thousand dollars for Isaac if Isabelle remains with him.”
“I don’t want Isaac anymore.”
“Two thousand.”
“That’s enough, Mr. Payne,” the judge said. “A deal has been struck.”
Isabelle couldn’t look back over at Alden. “He also agreed to drop the kidnapping charges against Mr. Payne.”
Victor’s face contorted, but he ultimately agreed that it was true.
Isabelle slipped a piece of paper onto the judge’s desk without a word. It was the freedom paper she’d written up early that morning, for Victor to sign.
“What does it say?” Victor asked the judge.
“It says that Isaac has been emancipated from slavery. From now on, he will be free and under the care and guardianship of Alden Payne.”
Victor drew an X across the bottom line. Then he reached for Isabelle’s arm, and she cringed as he led her toward the door.
Alden was close on her heels, reaching for her as well. “You can’t do this.”
“I must,” she said, shaking him off. “Tell Isaac to use the key I gave him.”
Alden stepped in front of Victor. “I’m not letting you leave.”
Victor smirked. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Alden glanced back at the judge. “This isn’t right.”
“Step away from him, Mr. Payne,” the judge commanded.
“Not until he releases Miss Labrie.”
Instead of responding, Judge Roth nodded toward the other two men in the room. They flanked Alden, each of them taking an arm and pinning it behind him. He wrestled against the men as Victor moved around him, shoving Isabelle toward the door.
The judge sighed, pointing toward the wall. “Take him to the jail.”
Isabelle braced herself against the doorpost. “But he’s supposed to take care of Isaac.”
“He’ll only be in jail until you and Mr. Duvall leave town.”
As Alden struggled to break free, she glimpsed the sorrow in his eyes, a rawness that spoke of fear. And a tender love.
She closed her eyes as Victor pushed her into the street, the image of Alden embedded into her mind. Her heart.
Alden did care for her, in spite of her past. More than she could ever have dreamed.
She’d cling to that picture of his love for the rest of her life.