Freedom's Price (12 page)

The
Freedom School
had not met in weeks, but it had nothing to do with Eliza's mistakes. To keep his people safe from the cholera, Reverend Meachum had closed the church and school until the epidemic was over. The Committee of One Hundred had more important things to do than worry
about the school—they met constantly to insist that the city of St. Louis be held accountable for the epidemic. “Stop the deaths,” they ordered, as if all their money and power could just cause the cholera to stop. But when Old Man Chouteau, the richest man in town, succumbed, the Committee had to face the fact that the cholera took anyone it pleased—rich, poor, colored, white, or Indian. The cholera was a monster whose appetite was never satisfied.

Eliza knew her family had been lucky not to get sick. But she couldn't help feeling sorry for herself. With no church and no school, she hadn't seen Wilson or any of her choir friends for weeks. Miss Charlotte had told them not to come to her house until the disease ran its course, so Eliza couldn't visit with Sadie either. Pa, Ma, and Lizzie were Eliza's only company.

Eliza's solace was that she had time to work on her rhymes and tunes. Ma and Pa paid them no attention, but Eliza knew her songs were worth writing down. If only she knew how to write music. Or play an instrument other than her voice. Maybe after they were free, Eliza could find a way to learn to play piano.

Eliza wasn't the only one dreaming. The night before, Ma and Pa had been talking about their futures. Eliza had never seen them so happy. Ma wanted her own laundry. Pa could do all the deliveries.

“Setting up a laundry takes money,” Eliza pointed out.

“We have savings enough to do it,” Pa said.

Eliza's attention sharpened. “If we have money,” she asked, “why didn't we just buy our freedom years ago?”

“We tried,” Pa said, his voice tired. “But Mrs. Emerson wouldn't take our money. She thinks our family gets more valuable as time passes.”

Eliza felt a little sick come up in her throat. “Because the older I get, the better price I'll fetch?”

“Hush,” Pa said. “The court won't let that happen.”

“So Mrs. Emerson is plain out of luck,” Eliza declared.

Eliza wondered about Mrs. Emerson, a woman she could barely remember. Pa said she wasn't a terrible person, just spoiled and apt to use others for her own comfort. Her nephew Frank seemed to be cut from the same cloth. After today, Eliza hoped neither of them would have the power to scare her ever again.

Finally there was enough light at the window to be morning. She slipped out of her blankets and tiptoed out of the cell. Ma had stayed up late the night before ironing their best clothes. She'd left them hanging in the common room. Eliza could fetch them and make one less task for Ma. The sooner they were ready, the sooner they could go to court. Her bare feet padded down the slate floor past the cells of the women trustee prisoners. They were still asleep; they had nothing to look forward to today. Not like the Scotts.

When she returned with the clothes, Ma was already waking Lizzie.

“You're growing so fast,” Eliza told her little sister. It was
true; the pinafore of her dress barely fit around Lizzie's chest, and the bottom of the skirt brushed her knees. “After today, you can get as tall as you like!”

“As tall as you?” Lizzie asked.

Eliza nodded. Lizzie beamed and stood up straight and proud.

After this morning, it wouldn't matter how tall the Scott girls grew. Once they were legally free, they would be safe from slave catchers and the auction block.

Eliza put on her new dress, her hands trembling so she could hardly fasten the buttons. Ma had found a white petticoat with a small ruffle on the bottom to hold out the bottom of the skirt. Eliza twirled in the hallway, feeling as if she might float away.
Only a free person could feel so light and happy
, she thought. The only flaw in her outfit was her shabby boots, but the ruffle on her skirt hid them, mostly.

Pa looked up and beamed at them when they joined him in the common room. He was shining his boots with a wet rag. Eliza smiled when she saw how dapper he looked in his starched white shirt. Ma had turned the collar and cuffs so cleverly, the shirt looked new.

“Harriet, you look awfully fine in that purple dress,” he said.

Eliza added, “You'd never know it was something Miss Charlotte threw away.”

Ma touched her fingertips to the lace around her neck. “Stop being foolish—both of you.” Ma turned her back and fastened an apron around her waist.

“You can't wear an apron to court, Ma!” Eliza exclaimed.

“I'll take it off before we go. I don't want my dress to get dirty while I make breakfast.”

Breakfast was their usual bread with a little meat and vegetable broth to dip it in. But today it was special because it was the last meal they would ever eat as slaves. To celebrate, Ma had a special treat for them, tea sweetened with white sugar. The drink warmed Eliza's whole body. A good sign for today, she decided. In a few hours, they would be free. The only things standing between them and all their dreams were the judge and jury.

The judge
. All of a sudden the tea felt like syrup on her tongue—too much of a good thing. Slowly she put the mug back on the table.

Ma's watchful eyes noticed. “Eliza, are you all right?”

“Will the judge want to talk to me?” Eliza asked.

“Of course not,” Ma assured her.

Pa reached across the table and put Eliza's mug back in her hand. “Mr. Hall will do all the talking for us. Then the judge will say we're free.”

“It's about time,” Eliza said, slurping down her tea.

The only one to see them off was Mr. Martin. He clapped Pa on the back and shook his hand. “Dred, we'll miss you here.” He nodded to Ma. “Harriet, what will we do without your cooking?”

“Thank you, Mr. Martin,” Pa answered in a solemn way. “You've always been decent to us.”

Lizzie tugged on Pa's pant leg. “Let's go,” she urged him.
“I can't wait another minute.”

The adults burst out laughing. But Pa took pity on her, and they set off to the courthouse. It was still drizzling, and Ma and Lizzie broke into a little jog to keep from getting wet. Eliza and Pa walked tall, arm in arm. Under her breath, Eliza hummed her newest tune. Soon she'd be free to write all the music she wanted.

They came into the white marble plaza. At one end was an overlook from which you could see the whole city down to the river. The courthouse filled the other side of the plaza, with its tall columns topped with a dome. Ma and Lizzie waited in the shelter of the entryway.

“The door's locked, Dred,” Ma said. “There's no one here.” Her voice sounded stretched as tight as wire between two laundry poles. “It's the first day of court. There should be lots of people here.”

Something had gone wrong. Eliza felt a cold hard knot in her stomach.

“Don't fret. I'll find out.” Pa spied their lawyer looking out over the river. “Mr. Hall!”

The lawyer, in his neat brown suit, approached the court steps. He had no welcoming smile, not even for Lizzie. “I'm sorry, Dred. Judge Hamilton couldn't get enough jurors because of the cholera. Last night he decided to cancel court.”

Eliza stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. Their case was scheduled for today. How could the court be closed?

“You should have warned us, Mr. Hall,” Ma accused. “How could you let us think . . . we dressed in our best . . . we let the children hope . . .” Ma broke off, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I'm so very sorry,” Mr. Hall said. He turned to Pa, hands outstretched. “I tried to get word to you last night, Dred, but it's impossible to get a message into the jail.”

Pa had been standing so proud, but now he slumped, caving in on himself. “It's not the first time we've had to wait,” he mumbled. Eliza could hardly bear to see him like that. And Ma? She never cried. A moment ago they had been so happy. So ready to believe the best. To have it snatched away so suddenly was too much.

Eliza finally found her voice. “We shouldn't have to wait!” she cried. “It's not fair. We've already waited too long.” She paced about the porch furiously. Stumbling on a loose stone, she picked it up and threw it across the courtyard.

Ma sank down to the pavement, her back against the wall. Pa made as if to go to her, then turned back to Mr. Hall. “What do we do now?” he asked.

Mr. Hall's grim expression warned that the news wasn't good.

“You're going to have to stay at the jail,” Mr. Hall said.

“No! We can't go back there!” Eliza shouted.

Lizzie stared at her sister. “Eliza, why are you shouting?”

Pa put his arm around her and murmured, “Stop, Eliza. You're only making it harder for all of us.”

Mr. Hall sounded miserable. “It won't be long, Eliza. Only until I can get a court to authorize a bond that will let you out.”

“What does that mean?” Pa asked, stroking Eliza's hair.

“The court will hear witnesses that you are good law-abiding folk who won't run away.”

“When?” Eliza asked, her voice muffled against Pa's chest.

“The judge has already left town,” Mr. Hall answered. “The best we can hope for is a decision in the fall.”

Eliza pushed herself away from Pa. “We'll be dead from cholera by fall.”

“Eliza, that's enough,” Pa said sharply, his words smarting like a whiplash on her skin.

“I'm truly sorry,” Mr. Hall repeated, shaking Pa's hand.

As soon as Mr. Hall was out of sight, Pa helped Ma to her feet. She sobbed into his coat while he patted her back.

Eliza walked into the plaza, heedless of the rain. What did it matter if she got wet? What did any of it matter? Nothing they did made any difference. They were going to be slaves forever, locked in the jail until the cholera took them.

A tug on her skirt made her look down. She'd forgotten about Lizzie.

“Eliza, what's wrong?” Lizzie asked. “Why is everyone so sad?”

Eliza scooped Lizzie up in her arms. “We're sad because we're never going to be free,” she said, the words bitter on her tongue. “The law is a big lie, and we've been fools to believe in it.”

Lizzie's eyes filled with tears.

“Eliza!” Pa took Lizzie from Eliza's arms and held her tight. “Shhh, little one. Eliza didn't mean it. We're going to be free—it's just going to take longer than we thought.”

“After today, do you really think the court will ever do the right thing?” Eliza asked bitterly. She couldn't believe she was talking to Pa like this.

His eyes held her gaze for a long moment. “I have to trust in that.”

Ma glared at Eliza. “Dred, take Lizzie home,” she said.

Pa's eyes went from Eliza's face to Ma's. Without a word, he carried Lizzie away.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Ma scolded Eliza as soon as Pa was out of earshot. “Upsetting Lizzie like that was cruel.”

“I was just telling her the truth. Someone in this family has to face the facts.”

“Your father and I have faced more trouble than you will ever know. And if we can be patient, so can you.”

Eliza pressed her lips together and didn't answer.

“We're all disappointed. Now let's go home, and you can apologize to Lizzie.”

“Home?” Eliza spat the word. Her mother scowled, but Eliza kept talking. “The jail's not home. And I'm never going back.”

“You don't have a choice,” Ma insisted. “You'll do as I say.”

“No,” Eliza cried. “I can work for Miss Charlotte and live
in her house instead.”

“I already told you no,” Ma answered. “You're safer with us.”

“I'm not safe at all. None of us are,” Eliza shouted. “Lucy's dead. Those two men died too. And Mrs. Martin ran away.” As Eliza recited the toll that cholera had taken, she started to hiccup. Her body shuddered and she couldn't breathe. She pushed the final words out. “But we can't run away, can we? We're trapped.”

“Calm yourself,” Ma said sharply. She took Eliza's arm in a tight grip. “You're getting hysterical. We have to stay in the jail. You can't change that.”

“I can change it. I'm not going back. You can't make me.” She wrenched her arm away. Ma's fingers left dents in the fleshy part of Eliza's arm. As if her feet were thinking for themselves, Eliza started running.

“Eliza! Get back here right now,” her mother shouted.

Eliza kept running. Away from the courthouse and the jail. Away from her family. Away from her life.

C
HAPTER
Fifteen

E
LIZA DIDN
'
T STOP RUNNING UNTIL
M
A
'
S FURIOUS CRIES HAD
been left behind. She ducked into an empty alley, balanced her hands on her knees and gulped in air. Her dress was spattered with raindrops. The wet she wiped from her eyes was half rain, half tears.

Ma might hate her for it, but Eliza wasn't going to make the same choice as Ma and Pa. She wouldn't just sit and wait for the courts. She was tired of dreaming of a better life and watching it always being snatched away. And most of all, she refused to go back, humiliated and hangdog, to that jail.

Her only option, Eliza decided, was to take Miss Charlotte's job offer, no matter what Ma said. She stood up straight and set off across Market Street. It was odd to be able to walk down the center of the street instead of having to weave through the crowds on the narrow sidewalk. The silence made her feel uneasy; she kept looking over her
shoulder. Half the stores were shuttered, even Phillips Music Store.

Miss Charlotte's home wasn't far, and Eliza soon arrived. The large white house's curtains were drawn, as if the house were hiding from the disease that was ravaging the city and making St. Louis a ghost town. Eliza started for the garden gate, then stopped. Why should she go in the side door? She was here at Miss Charlotte's invitation. Taking a deep breath, Eliza deliberately walked up to the front door and lifted the knocker.