He cleared his throat. “I’ve been hoping you’d come out. I have a couple things I want to talk to you about. First is Cora.”
Her eyes opened again, and her shoulders edged back. “She’s in pain. I told her this morning I want her to rest an hour each afternoon. You may have to help me enforce that.”
Well now, that was interesting. He slid the letter into his coat pocket and then rested his hand atop Elsie’s head. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“I hadn’t. And I’m sorry for that.” She cleared her throat and studied the beam that traveled from stall to ceiling. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”
That last part was so low he scarcely heard it over the nickering of the horses. And so unexpected it took a long moment to sink in. He smoothed down a wild golden curl on Elsie’s head. “I’m sorry for a lot of things too. But it all turned out as it should have.”
“Did it?”
Maybe it didn’t seem that way to her. She was learning a lot of ugly about her world right now, after all. But the Lord had led them here. “Other thing’s Elsie.”
Her gaze went back to his girl. She said nothing.
Walker lifted the tot into his arms and kissed her cheek. “She’s deaf. It took a while to figure it out, but there’s no question.”
“Will you teach her signs?” She asked it matter-of-factly, as if that were the obvious and immediate answer.
Something inside unknotted. “I would, but I don’t remember much. Your granddad said he could get me a book on that version they came up with at the school in Connecticut. But…”
She grinned. It was the first he had seen her grin in so many years, he nearly stumbled backward. “You and a book? Walker Payne, are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes?”
“I know.” He smiled too. He couldn’t help it. “Makes me wish I hadn’t always asked Stephen to summarize them. I’m afraid I’ll mess it up. And Cora, she can’t…”
Marietta went still. Just watching them, him and Elsie, watching and waiting. As though she didn’t know exactly what he was getting at. Then she swallowed. “What are you asking?”
He repositioned Elsie in his arms. “I need your help, Yetta, in making a life for my little girl. Cora didn’t want to ask you, but I don’t know another way. It would take me hours to learn what you could in a second.” He paused, watching her face. Looking for signs of capitulation, of softening, of some warm feeling. All he could see was the same pretty mask she’d been wearing since she caught him saddling up one of her daddy’s horses six years before, ready to take off and never look back. “Please.”
She stood like a statue so long he feared she’d turned into one. She would refuse. Make her excuses. Claim, reasonably, that with all Mr. Lane had just pushed upon her, she didn’t have the wherewithal to handle anything else. Especially an “else” that wasn’t her problem, wasn’t her responsibility, had nothing to do with her.
Then she turned her gaze toward Elsie, smiled that sun-bright smile of hers, and made a few quick motions. Pointed at the girl, waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re a beautiful girl, Elsie. We’re going to make this your name.” She curled her fingertips down, thumb in. “This is an E. E for Elsie.” Then she went around her face again, in the sign he now remembered meant beautiful. “Elsie.” She pointed at the girl, repeated the sign, and said her name again.
Elsie hooked a finger in her mouth and smiled around it.
Walker’s throat felt so dry, he wondered if he’d ever be able to swallow again. “You’ll help?”
“I already have the book. I only flipped through the first few pages to see how similar it was to my family’s signs, but I’ll get it out. We can…we’ll have to find a time when you and Cora can both join me. It will hardly do any good if you don’t all know it.”
Somehow he didn’t think Cora would be too fond of that plan. But it was for their girl. She would put her dislike aside for Elsie. “I doubt evenings would work, then. You usually have…company. Maybe afternoons?”
“Maybe. Probably. I—”
A throat cleared, cutting her off. They both spun to the door. For a second he was sure it would be Hughes, but the silhouette that stood against the sunshine wasn’t built quite right. He was too rangy, and stood with too much patience. Must be the newcomer.
Walker didn’t know if that was better or worse.
Slade let his eyes adjust to the dim light, not sure how to interpret what he knew he’d see. He’d recognized Marietta’s voice. And it wasn’t, he supposed, odd to find her in her own stable. Maybe she liked to ride. Maybe she was making changes to the way things were run. Maybe that was why she was setting up a daily tryst with a servant.
Maybe.
But when another blink helped his vision focus, his gut twitched. The man standing in the empty stall had features that bespoke Negro blood. His skin, however, was no darker than Slade’s after a few weeks out of doors in the summer, his eyes a strange blue-gray.