“Nothing you do would distress me under the circumstances, Mr. Bates,” she said with a sad smile. “It was so kind of you to come with us today to look after Miss Morey and me.”
Gideon hadn’t done it out of kindness, but he could at least do a little more to look after the ladies. “Aren’t you going to offer the ladies something to eat?” Gideon asked their scruffy-looking keeper.
“If I had anything to offer them, I’d eat it myself,” he said quite reasonably, which only irritated Gideon more. “Why don’t you folks let me take you back to the train station so you can go home? Mr. Whittaker ain’t never going to let you in to see your people.”
“He’ll have to when Mr. O’Brien gets the court order,” Miss Morey said. She had been remarkably calm throughout the ordeal, much to Gideon’s relief. Both women, in fact, had taken their situation far better than he. The suffragists, he’d noticed, tended to be sensible women not given to emotional outbursts, no matter what the newspapers claimed.
“If we don’t get in to see them today,” Mrs. Young said, “I’ll make sure Mr. Tumulty knows about it.”
“Who’s that?” Gideon asked.
“He’s President Wilson’s personal secretary and an old family friend. He’s known my daughter, Tilly, since she was an infant. Surely, he’ll be as upset as I when he hears how we’ve been treated and what’s happened to Tilly and the other prisoners.”
Gideon could hardly believe she’d allowed such a valuable contact to go unused. “Why didn’t you go to him first?” Gideon asked.
Mrs. Young dropped her gaze, and Miss Morey frowned at her. “She did.”
“He has no idea this is happening, I’m sure,” Mrs. Young said a bit defensively.
Miss Morey did not acknowledge her remark. She said to Gideon, “He told her all the reports about the poor conditions at the workhouse are exaggerated. He said the prisoners are very comfortable there, and she shouldn’t worry about her daughter.”
“Tilly wasn’t dressed warmly enough,” Mrs. Young said. “I just wanted to bring her some heavier clothes.”
“You must realize by now that everything he told you was a lie,” Miss Morey said.
“I’ll be certain to point that out to him when I see him again,” Mrs. Young said with some asperity.
“Looks like your friend is finally coming back,” the guard said, peering out the front window.
Gideon and the two women hurried to meet O’Brien at the door.
? ? ?
Elizabeth couldn’t remember why the idea of a walk had sounded so appealing. After a breakfast of wormy mush, skim milk and greasy coffee too bitter to drink, they’d been put to work sewing underwear for the male inmates again. Then came a lunch of split pea soup made from peas that had not actually been cooked, and before they went back to the sewing room, Matron Herndon had invited a few of the ladies for an afternoon stroll. Elizabeth should have known better.
The woods surrounding the workhouse were stark and leafless, but being outside was a welcome change. At first the cold air had invigorated her, or maybe it was just being away from the stench of the workhouse, but they hadn’t gone far before Elizabeth had to stop. Leaning over, hands on her knees, she gasped for breath. The cold air seared her lungs, and her head swam. What on earth was wrong with her?
Two days without proper food had already taken a toll, and not just on her. The others had stopped, too, leaning against the damp tree trunks or each other. They all looked unnaturally pale and drawn, making Elizabeth glad she didn’t have access to a mirror herself.
“Is this the best you can do?” Herndon said the third time the women stopped, gasping and panting. “I don’t know how you suffs manage to walk around the White House if you can’t walk a few steps in the woods.”
Luckily, Elizabeth was too weak to do what she really wanted to do. She would have ended up at the workhouse for the rest of her life.
“I don’t think I can walk another step,” Anna said. “What will she do to me if I can’t go on?”
Before Elizabeth could answer, an eerie howl drifted to them through the trees. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
“What’s that?” someone asked.
Herndon grinned. “That’s the hounds. Somebody must’ve escaped. We’d better hurry and get back.”
“Will the dogs attack us?” Miss Findeisen asked. She was one of the younger women, and she obviously came from money, if Elizabeth could judge from her boldness in daring to address Herndon.
Herndon nodded, as if acknowledging an especially astute question. “That’s exactly what they’ll do.”
The baying grew louder. Elizabeth saw her own terror reflected on Anna’s face and took her arm.
“Come on.”
Every muscle screamed in protest, but she forced her weary body to move. She needed to escape, but she couldn’t leave the rest of them behind. Not bothering to ask herself why she should care, she poked and prodded the others.
“Let’s go. We have to get back.”
“I can’t,” Anna said.
“You have to.” She gave her a shove to get her moving.
She’d heard what dogs could do, and even though she didn’t think Whittaker would dare let the suffragists get mauled, she wasn’t sure Mrs. Herndon cared one way or the other.
With Anna moving, Elizabeth herded the rest of them in behind her. One woman started to protest, but something in Elizabeth’s expression stopped her, and she fell into step with the others.
Too weak, she couldn’t run, even though every instinct demanded it. Stumbling and staggering and driven by the haunting wail of the dogs as they searched for their prey, Elizabeth moved forward, sometimes leading, sometimes following, as the others made their own uncertain way. Half falling, she felt a hand on her arm, reaching out to help. Her gaze locked for a second with a woman whose name she did not know.
“Careful,” she said.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. Words she rarely used and seldom meant.
The hounds were louder, closer now, their baying like echoes out of hell.
Miss Findeisen stumbled, trying to hurry, and Elizabeth caught her arm. “Careful,” she said.
Miss Findeisen smiled weakly.
Anna staggered and nearly fell. “I can’t go on,” she sobbed, slumping against a tree.
Elizabeth grabbed her arm. “You have to. The dogs will tear you to pieces.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move.
Desperate, Elizabeth pulled Anna’s arm over her shoulders. “Lean on me.”
“You can’t carry me!”
“We can do it together,” Miss Findeisen said, taking Anna’s other arm.
They lurched off, half dragging, half carrying her. Elizabeth’s lungs burned with each breath and all her muscles screamed in agony at every step, but still she put one foot in front of the other over and over until her legs at last refused and her knees buckled. But someone caught her and took Anna’s weight from her shoulders, and someone else linked arms with her, urging her on.