Page 36 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“I’ll make sure that he is well cared for,” I replied.

She nodded. “There are the stables now. It is important when we are there that we act like we belong there. Do not show any hesitation. You will be surprised what people allow you to do when you have confidence.”

I nodded. Confidence wasn’t something that came to me naturally.

“I say,” she went on, “that we start in the main barn again and speak to Jeremiah. I just have a feeling there was more he wanted to tell us.”

I knew that Jeremiah had more to say about my brother’s death, but I wasn’t nearly as sure as Emily that he wanted to share what he knew with us.

We walked down the long driveway that led to the large stable. We went past all the black carriages and carts that sat along the side just waiting until they would be needed again. Carlo plopped himself down on the ground just outside the stable, and Emily and I went in.

The familiar scent of hay, dirt, and horse filled my nostrils as soon as we walked into the stables. A blond mare wearing a blanket over her back hung her head over her gate and blew a horsey breath in our direction.

From what I could see, there wasn’t a single person around, just horses. Perhaps this was a good thing. Emily would see there was no one around to question and she would agree to leave. I was very uneasy about being in the stables again, not only because it was the place where Henry died but because I feared that Mr.Johnson or Masters would not be pleased if they saw us here again. I didn’t think Emily’s story about boarding the Dickinson family horses would go very far with them.

“There is no one here,” I said. “We should return home and finish preparations for your trip.”

“Not yet,” Emily said and waved away my suggestion as if it was nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing around her head. She walked deeper into the stables.

I followed her, and before long, I knew exactly where she was headed. It was back to the scene of the crime, as she called it. Emily went into the stall where my brother died, but I could not go in there again. I waited outside the stall, not looking in. I had seen enough on our first visit. I shifted back and forth on my feet until a puff of hot air was blown into my ear. I turned to find Terror staring at me. I looked into the horse’s eyes. There was so much sadness there. I wondered if they mirrored my own.

Turning my back to Emily, I walked over to the horse. His feed trough was full. It looked like he hadn’t even touched it. Squatting down, I stuck my hand through the beams in his gate and took a large scoop of feed from the trough.

He watched me closely. I then raised the food to his mouth. At first he turned away, so I could just see his profile.

“Go on. Take it,” I whispered. “Henry would want you to be strong. If you can’t eat for yourself, eat for him.”

He turned his mouth back in my direction, and I held my breath as his thick lips brushed across my hand and he took mouthful after mouthful of feed. We repeated this four times; I scooped the feed in my hand and he ate it. Every time Terror took the food from my hand, I felt lighter. It was as if I accomplished something, or we accomplished something together, and I knew that act would have made Henry happy.

“I don’t care if it’s difficult. Find a way to fix it,” an angry male voice said, and it sounded like it was coming in our direction.

Terror jerked his head back from me and disappeared into his stall.

“Willa,” Emily hissed at me and waved from the stall where my brother had died. “Get over here.”

I dropped the last of the horse feed that was in my hand into the trough and ducked into the stall with Emily just as two men appeared around the corner. It was Mr.Johnson and Masters, the stable master.

“Yes, sir, I will do my best,” Masters said in a much quieter voice.

“You had better. I have a lot riding on this, much more than you could ever understand.”

Masters murmured something in reply that we couldn’t hear as the two men turned and went down another row of stalls away from us. Emily stepped out of the stall and began following them.

“Emily,” I whispered, but she didn’t even look over her shoulder to acknowledge that she heard me.

I grimaced and followed her.

The stables were so large that they had four pens of horses that ran ninety feet from end to end of the building. Most of those were rented by local businessmen and merchants who could afford a horse but didn’t have the barn or space to house it.

I found Emily peering over the edge of an empty stall. She had to kneel on a hay bale to see over it. Being much taller than she, I could just stand on my tiptoes and look over the wall. On the other side, Mr.Johnson and Masters stood in what I would guess was a tack room with harnesses, bridles, and reins hanging from the wall. Masters was waxing the leather of a giant yoke that looked better suited for oxen than horses. Mr.Johnson stood a few feet away with his arms crossed.

“You will have to be on your toes while I am in Washington, Masters,” Mr.Johnson said. “I leave in two days on the afternoon train.”

Emily and I shared a look. Mr.Johnson was going to Washington on the same train that Emily and her family were.

“I understand, sir,” Masters said. “I know you have business in Washington.”

“It’s very important that I go. There are men I need to speak to that will help the cause for the South.”

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