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Authors: Tracy Chevalier
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thee for any kindness thee has showed Honor during this difficult time.”
Donovan chuckled. “Oh, Honor’s been quite the fixture in town, ain’t you, darlin’?”
Adam frowned at the coarse familiarity. However, he knew no other way to be than honest. “I am taking her to live in Faithwell. If thee has finished, we will continue.” He held up the reins expectantly.
“What, you gonna marry her now the sister’s gone?”
Honor and Adam flinched and leaned away from each other. Honor felt physically ill.
“I have a responsibility to look after Honor,” Adam said. “She is like a sister to me, and will live with my sister-in-law and me as family.”
Donovan raised his eyebrows. “ Two sisters-in-law and no wife? Sounds cozy for you.”
“That’s enough, Donovan.” Honor’s sharp tone was almost as surprising as her dropping of “Mr.” Adam blinked.
“Ah, got your claws out! All right, all right, my apologies.” Donovan half bowed from his saddle, then dismounted. “Now, I’ll just have a look in your wagon. Down you get.”
“What reason could thee have to search our things?” Adam demanded, the color rising in his face. “We have nothing to conceal.”
“Adam, allow him,” Honor whispered as she climbed down. “It is easier that way.”
Adam remained on the seat. “No man has the right to search another’s possessions without cause.”
The violence when it came was so swift Honor caught her breath. One moment Adam was sitting hunched but defiant on the seat of the wagon; the next, he was lying in the dust of the road, crying out and holding his wrist while blood spurted from his nose. Honor ran and knelt by him, holding his head in her lap and mopping the blood with a handkerchief.
In the meantime, Donovan had opened her trunk once again, pawing through the contents and scattering them about on the wagon bed; he did not remark on the signature quilt. Then he lifted the seat they had been perched on and rummaged about. Satisfied at last, he jumped down and stood over them. “Where’s the nigger, Honor? You know you can’t lie to me, Quaker gal.”
Honor looked up at him. “I do not know,” she was able to say honestly.
Donovan held her gaze for a long moment. Though weary from his Saturday night carousing, his eyes were still lit with interest, and Honor found them mesmerizing, for in the clear brown were little flecks of black like pieces of bark. He was still wearing her key under his shirt—she could see its outline.
“All right. Don’t know why, but I believe you. Don’t you ever lie to me, though. I’m gonna keep my eye on you. I’ll be paying you a visit over in Faithwell soon.” He swung up onto his bay horse. Turning its head back toward Wellington, he paused. “My sister’s bonnet suits you, Honor Bright. Them colors are from a blanket we had when we was little.” He clucked his tongue and the horse sprang away into a gallop.
Honor wished he would not tell her such things.
In the distance another wagon was coming. Honor helped Adam to his feet so that he would not be further shamed lying in the dirt in front of strangers. He clutched at his wrist.
“Break or sprain?” she asked.
“Sprain, I think, thanks be to God. It just needs binding.” Adam shook his head at the mess of Honor’s things in the wagon. “What did he think he would find? He knows we won’t have any liquor or tobacco, and or indeed anything of value.” He turned his bewildered eyes on Honor, who had retrieved his hat from the side of the road and was dusting it off.
She handed it to him. “He is looking for a runaway slave.”
Adam stared at her until he had to move to make way for the approaching wagon. He said nothing until they were seated again, his wrist bound with one of Honor’s neck cloths, and heading once more toward Faithwell. Then he cleared his throat. “It seems thee is quickly learning the ways of Americans.” He did not sound pleased.
Faithwell, Ohio
6th Month
Donovan chuckled. “Oh, Honor’s been quite the fixture in town, ain’t you, darlin’?”
Adam frowned at the coarse familiarity. However, he knew no other way to be than honest. “I am taking her to live in Faithwell. If thee has finished, we will continue.” He held up the reins expectantly.
“What, you gonna marry her now the sister’s gone?”
Honor and Adam flinched and leaned away from each other. Honor felt physically ill.
“I have a responsibility to look after Honor,” Adam said. “She is like a sister to me, and will live with my sister-in-law and me as family.”
Donovan raised his eyebrows. “ Two sisters-in-law and no wife? Sounds cozy for you.”
“That’s enough, Donovan.” Honor’s sharp tone was almost as surprising as her dropping of “Mr.” Adam blinked.
“Ah, got your claws out! All right, all right, my apologies.” Donovan half bowed from his saddle, then dismounted. “Now, I’ll just have a look in your wagon. Down you get.”
“What reason could thee have to search our things?” Adam demanded, the color rising in his face. “We have nothing to conceal.”
“Adam, allow him,” Honor whispered as she climbed down. “It is easier that way.”
Adam remained on the seat. “No man has the right to search another’s possessions without cause.”
The violence when it came was so swift Honor caught her breath. One moment Adam was sitting hunched but defiant on the seat of the wagon; the next, he was lying in the dust of the road, crying out and holding his wrist while blood spurted from his nose. Honor ran and knelt by him, holding his head in her lap and mopping the blood with a handkerchief.
In the meantime, Donovan had opened her trunk once again, pawing through the contents and scattering them about on the wagon bed; he did not remark on the signature quilt. Then he lifted the seat they had been perched on and rummaged about. Satisfied at last, he jumped down and stood over them. “Where’s the nigger, Honor? You know you can’t lie to me, Quaker gal.”
Honor looked up at him. “I do not know,” she was able to say honestly.
Donovan held her gaze for a long moment. Though weary from his Saturday night carousing, his eyes were still lit with interest, and Honor found them mesmerizing, for in the clear brown were little flecks of black like pieces of bark. He was still wearing her key under his shirt—she could see its outline.
“All right. Don’t know why, but I believe you. Don’t you ever lie to me, though. I’m gonna keep my eye on you. I’ll be paying you a visit over in Faithwell soon.” He swung up onto his bay horse. Turning its head back toward Wellington, he paused. “My sister’s bonnet suits you, Honor Bright. Them colors are from a blanket we had when we was little.” He clucked his tongue and the horse sprang away into a gallop.
Honor wished he would not tell her such things.
In the distance another wagon was coming. Honor helped Adam to his feet so that he would not be further shamed lying in the dirt in front of strangers. He clutched at his wrist.
“Break or sprain?” she asked.
“Sprain, I think, thanks be to God. It just needs binding.” Adam shook his head at the mess of Honor’s things in the wagon. “What did he think he would find? He knows we won’t have any liquor or tobacco, and or indeed anything of value.” He turned his bewildered eyes on Honor, who had retrieved his hat from the side of the road and was dusting it off.
She handed it to him. “He is looking for a runaway slave.”
Adam stared at her until he had to move to make way for the approaching wagon. He said nothing until they were seated again, his wrist bound with one of Honor’s neck cloths, and heading once more toward Faithwell. Then he cleared his throat. “It seems thee is quickly learning the ways of Americans.” He did not sound pleased.
Faithwell, Ohio
6th Month
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