them that I believed I could keep,” he continued. “It’s just proving a bit harder to do than I had
expected. No, we will just have to make things work… even if we have to force them a bit.”
“How much force are you talkin’ about?” Travis asked, the hint of a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
Zachary took a good long look at his lackey. Travis Jefferson was absolutely not one to shy away from violence. In the past,
he’d proven to be valuable beyond measure: a late-night visit here, a guttural threat delivered there, and, on one memorable
occasion, a bone-breaking. All it would take was one word and he would set upon Eliza Watkins and her drunkard brother as
if he were a starving wolf.
“We’re not at that juncture yet,” Zachary said. He walked over to the window and stared back down the street. The boardinghouse
was just visible from the rear, a reminder of the sizable obstacle that lay in his path. “I’m going to try to have a word
with Rachel. She always struck me as the reasonable one. If I can get her to understand the predicament she is in, offer some
extra money, maybe she can succeed in getting her mother to finally see reason.”
“And if she can’t get it done?”
“That, my friend,” Zachary said, smiling, “is where you come in.”
Chapter Six
R ACHEL TOSSED a freshly laundered sheet over the wire clothesline and paused, the sun’s faint warmth pleasant on her upturned face. Overnight,
the weather had begun to change; there was a crispness to the air that spoke more of the coming winter than the last remnants
of fall. Wispy clouds spread across the autumn sky, as thin as gauze. A formation of ducks, heading south to warmer climes,
beat their wings furiously, quacking noisily at each other. Still, this day was beautiful.
And here I am working yet again!
The small courtyard behind the boardinghouse was framed on either side by the adjacent buildings, the rear by a narrow alleyway.
Three lines of wire were strung from wooden poles driven deeply into the ground. Facing toward the south, the courtyard spent
much of the day in sunlight and was ideal for drying wet laundry.
Rachel had risen early—dawn had just broken—and set about the first of her morning chores. After breakfast, she’d been to
visit the Wickers, declaring that newborn Walter was in tip-top shape. Though the baby was drowsing soundly on a newly knitted
blanket, it was clear from the bleary-eyed look on his parents’ faces that he had caused a sleepless night, with many more
surely to come. After accepting her payment, she’d headed back to the boardinghouse and resumed her work.
Hefting another sheet, Rachel pulled one of the clothespins free from her lips and fastened the laundry to the line. Laundry,
laundry, and more laundry! It was every bit as backbreaking as it was time-consuming. Late spring, summer, and early fall
it went out on the yard line. In late fall, winter, and early spring she labored in the stone-walled basement where the coal
furnace dried the wash, albeit a bit more slowly. She reckoned that it was only a matter of weeks before she would begin hanging
sheets downstairs.
This particular morning, she had tried her best to persuade Charlotte to help her, but the girl had laughed and run off to
play with Jasper. Watching her, Rachel had wondered how Charlotte had managed again to get away from Eliza’s watchful eye.
What am I ever going to do with that girl?
The previous day’s disastrous trip to her sister’s grave sprang back to Rachel’s mind. Nothing had gone as she had hoped.
She’d taken Charlotte there because the girl needed to acknowledge her mother, but Rachel had been left to speak to Alice
by herself.
The sudden slamming of a door at the rear of the boardinghouse roused Rachel from her unpleasant reverie. For a brief moment,
she thought that her uncle Otis had come to help her with the laundry, but between a break in
expected. No, we will just have to make things work… even if we have to force them a bit.”
“How much force are you talkin’ about?” Travis asked, the hint of a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
Zachary took a good long look at his lackey. Travis Jefferson was absolutely not one to shy away from violence. In the past,
he’d proven to be valuable beyond measure: a late-night visit here, a guttural threat delivered there, and, on one memorable
occasion, a bone-breaking. All it would take was one word and he would set upon Eliza Watkins and her drunkard brother as
if he were a starving wolf.
“We’re not at that juncture yet,” Zachary said. He walked over to the window and stared back down the street. The boardinghouse
was just visible from the rear, a reminder of the sizable obstacle that lay in his path. “I’m going to try to have a word
with Rachel. She always struck me as the reasonable one. If I can get her to understand the predicament she is in, offer some
extra money, maybe she can succeed in getting her mother to finally see reason.”
“And if she can’t get it done?”
“That, my friend,” Zachary said, smiling, “is where you come in.”
Chapter Six
R ACHEL TOSSED a freshly laundered sheet over the wire clothesline and paused, the sun’s faint warmth pleasant on her upturned face. Overnight,
the weather had begun to change; there was a crispness to the air that spoke more of the coming winter than the last remnants
of fall. Wispy clouds spread across the autumn sky, as thin as gauze. A formation of ducks, heading south to warmer climes,
beat their wings furiously, quacking noisily at each other. Still, this day was beautiful.
And here I am working yet again!
The small courtyard behind the boardinghouse was framed on either side by the adjacent buildings, the rear by a narrow alleyway.
Three lines of wire were strung from wooden poles driven deeply into the ground. Facing toward the south, the courtyard spent
much of the day in sunlight and was ideal for drying wet laundry.
Rachel had risen early—dawn had just broken—and set about the first of her morning chores. After breakfast, she’d been to
visit the Wickers, declaring that newborn Walter was in tip-top shape. Though the baby was drowsing soundly on a newly knitted
blanket, it was clear from the bleary-eyed look on his parents’ faces that he had caused a sleepless night, with many more
surely to come. After accepting her payment, she’d headed back to the boardinghouse and resumed her work.
Hefting another sheet, Rachel pulled one of the clothespins free from her lips and fastened the laundry to the line. Laundry,
laundry, and more laundry! It was every bit as backbreaking as it was time-consuming. Late spring, summer, and early fall
it went out on the yard line. In late fall, winter, and early spring she labored in the stone-walled basement where the coal
furnace dried the wash, albeit a bit more slowly. She reckoned that it was only a matter of weeks before she would begin hanging
sheets downstairs.
This particular morning, she had tried her best to persuade Charlotte to help her, but the girl had laughed and run off to
play with Jasper. Watching her, Rachel had wondered how Charlotte had managed again to get away from Eliza’s watchful eye.
What am I ever going to do with that girl?
The previous day’s disastrous trip to her sister’s grave sprang back to Rachel’s mind. Nothing had gone as she had hoped.
She’d taken Charlotte there because the girl needed to acknowledge her mother, but Rachel had been left to speak to Alice
by herself.
The sudden slamming of a door at the rear of the boardinghouse roused Rachel from her unpleasant reverie. For a brief moment,
she thought that her uncle Otis had come to help her with the laundry, but between a break in
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