Free Hope Rekindled by Tracie Peterson Page B

either, but I thought I might come to. Now I know that won’t happen. It grieves me to know that I made such a hasty mistake.”
    “You did what you felt you had to.”
    Jael nodded. “And I’m paying the price for it.” She squeezed Deborah’s hands. “He’s forbidden me to see you at all. I don’t know what I shall do or if I’ll even have a chance to say good-bye.”
    Deborah thought for a moment. “You can leave messages with Mara Shattuck. If you go to Houston, you can even correspond with me, through her. I’ll speak to her today and let her know what’s happening.”
    “I should be able to manage that,” Jael agreed. She glanced around once more, fidgeting like a treed coon. “I need to go.”
    “Please be careful. We know now that Stuart is dangerous. We must be on our guard.”
    Jael nodded.
    “Go out the back way and I’ll keep watch.”
    “That’s a good idea,” her friend agreed. “Where is the door?”
    Taking Jael by the hand, she led her to the storage room, careful that they should not be seen. “The door is there—to the right.”
    Deborah waited until her friend had fled and then went to find her mother. Whispering, she relayed the information Jael had shared—all but the threat on Deborah’s life. She would talk to G.W. first. He wouldn’t overreact, but her mother might be inclined to do something out of pure emotion.
    “I need to speak with Mara,” she told her mother. “Would it be all right if I did it now?”
    Mother nodded. “I can visit with Rachel until you’re ready to head back. Just come to the Perkinses’ house when you’re ready.”
    Deborah nodded and hurried out of the commissary, nearly colliding with the constable. She straightened just in time. “Mr. Nichols, good morning.”
    “Miss Vandermark,” he said, tipping his hat. “It looks to be a mighty fine day.”
    “It would be finer if you would tell me you’d caught the men who beat up and hanged George and David Jackson. Have you any leads? Has anyone stepped forward, seeking the reward my mother and uncle—I mean stepfather—have offered?”
    He frowned and looked quite sorry he’d even addressed her. “Miss Deborah, it’s been over a year. Nobody’s gonna say nothing about what happened. They’re too afraid. The White Hand of God has folks runnin’ scared. There were some lynchings up north not but a week back and some twenty folks witnessed the scene, but no one is talking.”
    “That’s ridiculous. How can an entire community allow a mob of masked men to cause such disruption?” She fixed him with a hard stare. “It seems to me you aren’t doing your job.”
    He took umbrage and struck a defensive pose. “Now, see here. I’m doing my best. What with the mill burned out and all, my guess is that anyone who saw what happened or heard tell of it is long gone. We simply gotta accept that this is one of those things that can’t be resolved.”
    Deborah stiffened. “I refuse to accept that nothing can be done about murder.”
    “She makes a good point, Ralph.”
    Looking around the constable, Deborah could see Pastor Shattuck sitting at a barrel where an unfinished game of checkers awaited. She smiled sweetly. “Mornin’, Pastor. I wonder, is Mara at home?”
    “She sure is. I know she’d love to visit with you. Ralph and I are trying to solve the problems of the world over a game of checkers. I’m afraid you caught us right in the middle.”
    “Pardon me,” Deborah said, glancing back at Ralph. “I can see more important things await you.”
    She hurried down the steps, narrowly missing one of the constable’s hound dogs. Anger and irritation followed her all the way to the pastor’s house, and while she wanted nothing more than to explode over the matter, Deborah held her tongue.
    When Mara opened the door, she offered a smile and a warm greeting. Deborah gave Mara a brief hug. “I wonder if I might speak with you. I have a bit of a problem.”

     
    “Did she say when