Richard sat down on the edge of the fallen chair.
He looked suddenly older than his thirty-six years.
“Where did they take him?”
“I don’t know,” Isaiah said.
“I saw the wagon leave through the west gate.”
Richard looked toward Eleanor.
“Did you see where they went?”
She shook her head.
“Your father sent me back to the house.”
A distant bell rang from the yard.
Isaiah recognized the sound immediately.
It was the bell Pike used when he wanted every worker gathered before the evening count.
The bell should not have been ringing before noon.
Eleanor heard it too.
Her eyes moved toward the door.
“Richard, did you tell Pike you were coming upstairs?”
“No.”
“Then he knows something is wrong.”
Heavy boots sounded in the hallway.
Richard looked at the pistol in his hand.
For the first time he seemed uncertain which direction it should point.
A knock struck the door.
“Mr.
Whitmore,” Pike called.
“I heard there was trouble with the carpenter.”
Isaiah recognized the familiar calm in the overseer’s voice.
It was the same calm Pike had used when ordering his mother into the wagon.
Richard glanced at Eleanor.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“Tell him to leave,” she mouthed.
Richard straightened.
“There is no trouble, Pike.”
“I was told Cole was alone with Mrs.
Whitmore.”
“Mrs.
Whitmore injured her ankle.”
A pause followed.
“Then I can take Cole back to work.”
Richard looked at Isaiah.
Isaiah understood that the next sentence could decide whether he lived through the afternoon.
“He will remain here,” Richard said.
The silence beyond the door lasted several seconds.
“As you wish, sir.”
The footsteps moved away, but Isaiah did not believe Pike had gone far.
Eleanor reached for the water glass beside her bed.
Her fingers were trembling too badly to lift it.
Richard poured water and handed it to her without speaking.
The small gesture seemed almost cruel in its normality.
A husband could hand his wife a glass of water while the foundations of their lives collapsed around them.
Isaiah stepped toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Richard asked.
“To make certain Pike hasn’t sent anyone for my sister.”
Richard frowned.
“Your sister works in the kitchen.”
“Pike knows that.”
Eleanor looked sharply at her husband.
“Richard, let him go.”
Richard studied Isaiah for a long moment.
Then he placed the pistol on the mantel.
“Go to the kitchen,” he said.
“Bring your sister to the back parlor.”
