He studied her for a long moment. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
She nodded and turned back to her rain-shrouded window.
Their journey proved more troublesome than she’d imagined. The storm followed them across the South, washing out tracks, decoupling cars, and causing delays. One incident in Mississippi, tied to floodwaters over the tracks, lasted more than twelve hours. Another delay, this time in Georgia, occurred when the conductor never arrived for his shift and the passengers spent the night sleeping on board while a replacement was found. Because there was no single railroad that handled the trip from New Orleans to Charleston, they also had to endure numerous changes en route via rail lines with names like Barnwell, Northern Mobile Girard, and others named Gulf, Macon and Augusta, and Montgomery Eufaula. Steele read most of the way. Raven looked out of the window, torn between focusing on the memories of Steele’s masterful pleasuring and worries about the job ahead, while Welch kept a stern eye on them both.
On day four the weather finally broke. Their relief at finally crossing into South Carolina was muted as they dragged themselves to yet another connecting train. Welch handed them their tickets. As they waited to board, Raven noted all the people of color walking to the cars at the back of the train. She assumed she and Steele were goingto be riding Jim Crow. Being separated from Welch suited her just fine as long as they weren’t relegated to the stock car with the animals.
But Welch seemed not to have picked up on these subtle clues. As she boarded, the conductor eyed her and them.
“Coloreds in the back,” he said gruffly.
Welch waved a dismissive hand. “That’s okay, they’re under my supervision. I’ll vouch for them.”
Raven sighed. Steele gave Raven a look and shook his head at Welch’s apparent ignorance.
The conductor said to her, “Ma’am, I don’t care whether you vouch for them or not. They ride in the gambling car. You can join them there if you want, or you can walk to the next stop and be told the same thing—Coloreds ride in the back.”
“Surely an allowance can be made.”
After all the delays they’d endured to reach this point in the trip, Raven had no intention of walking to the next stop, and Welch declaring them her charges as if she were some kind of plantation overseer only made Raven’s temper rise. She handed the tight-lipped conductor her ticket and Steele did the same. That done, they headed to the back of the train.
After being cooped up for the past two days in a gambling car filled with cigar smoke and the sour smell of unwashed men, when Ravenand Steele stepped off the train in Charleston, she savored the early afternoon’s fresh air and the sunshine. “I’m so glad we’re here,” she said to Steele.
“I am as well. Hoping the journey back will be faster and less of a pain in the behind.”
She agreed.
Welch walked up and said impatiently, “We’re here. Let’s find a hack to take us to the Stipes’ residence.”
Raven glanced at Steele and wondered if his thinking was aligned with hers. She was certain they’d face the same Jim Crow barriers hiring a hack as they had on the train, but she decided to let Welch find that out for herself. For a woman who claimed to have worked with Miss Tubman, the detective seemed ignorant of the way the world worked in the South for members of the race.
They followed her to the hacks lined up outside the depot and stood back as she approached one. Out of earshot, she struck up a conversation. The driver looked past her at them and shook his head.
Steele said, “You’d think she’d know something about this.”
“Too busy being important in her own mind, I suppose.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I can’t wait until we can get rid of her.”
“I agree.”
When Welch was turned down for the third time, Steele looked around. “There are some of our drivers over there. Shall we?”
“Yes. We’ll be here until Christmas waiting on her to figure things out.”
They approached a hack with an older gentleman seated behind the reins. He greeted them with a nod and a kind smile. “Where can I take you?”
Raven, remembering her role as the wife, let Steele answer. “The Stipes’ residence.”
The driver studied them for a long moment. “Stipe the state legislator?”
“Yes.”
“Why? If you don’t mind an old man’s nosiness.”
“We’re going to work in the household.”