Free Different Sin by Rochelle Hollander Schwab Page B

the first place.
    “I would’ve let you know sooner, but I had to crank out a story to fill the hole, and then I stayed on to help with the typesetting.” Zach rubbed his eyes. “Mind if I come in a minute?” He slumped onto David’s chair without waiting for an answer.
    David looked at him. “Do you ever wait for permission before you go ahead and do what you damn well please?”
    Zach smiled sheepishly. “I suppose that’s one of my failings. I was sure you’d see it my way once you thought things over. I didn’t understand how distressed you were till you burst in and punched me this afternoon.”
    “I don’t recall ever hitting anyone before,” David said slowly.
    “I didn’t think you had.” Zach gave another sheepish smile and felt the bruise gingerly with his fingertips. “It was an honest mistake on my part though. I assumed you’d drop your objections once you understood how such a story could aid the anti-slavery cause. Especially after what you’ve told me of the suffering that slavery caused your brother.
    “And it isn’t as if you kept your connection a secret. Your father even showed us a daguerreotype of his grandchildren when he was here.”
    “That doesn’t mean you need to brand him an adulterer in front of the whole country!”
    “I didn’t look at it that way. I daresay I completely misapprehended how you felt.”
    “How the hell would you feel if it was your father?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think about my father very often.” Zach lapsed into silence, staring down at the backs of his hands. “He threw me out of the house when I was fifteen,” he said finally.
    “Threw you out! How could he? What for? Because you wouldn’t follow the occupation he wanted?”
    “What? No, it was nothing like that. He— he caught me doing something he didn’t approve of.”
    “You never said—”
    “It’s not a subject I’m fond of talking about.”
    David stared at Zach, trying to imagine a circumstance that would have made his own father evict him from his home when he was still a half-grown boy. “But what did you do? I mean at fifteen—”
    Zach gave a thin smile. “Oh, I didn’t have to fend for myself. I had an aunt in the next village, who was charitable enough to take me in. I found work in the local printing shop so I could at least repay her for my keep. And my mother stood by me. She slipped over to see me once or twice a month, till she took ill with pneumonia a year later. I attended her funeral service, of course.” He paused. “My father wouldn’t speak a single word to me, even then. The day after we laid Mother to rest, I packed up what possessions I had and struck out on my own. Worked here and there, at printing and reporting, till I ended up in New York City. I haven’t seen my father since that day. I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead.” Zach’s voice trembled slightly. He attempted a shrug.
    David studied him, taking in the rigid set of Zach’s shoulders, the way his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. He walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
    “Well, so far as I can see, it’s his loss, not yours, Zach,” he said at last.

Chapter 7 — 1859
    DAVID REACHED INTO HIS BUREAU DRAWER for his woolen underwear, stowing it in his carpet bag with his extra shirts and collars. Charles Town, Virginia would likely get cold nights, though it was still early autumn.
    Nor was there any telling what sort of accommodations they’d find, with the town already jammed with spectators come to see John Brown and his followers brought to justice. Excitement over the slavery issue had died down somewhat in the two-and-a-half years since the Supreme Court ruling on Dred Scott, but now flared to new intensity with Brown’s raid on the arsenal at Harper’s Ferry. He opened the door to Zachary’s knock.
    “You still packing, David?”
    “I’m nearly done. We’ve got over two hours though.”
    “I know.” Zach smiled. “Actually,