Page 73 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“That’s none of my concern. My concern is that you girls don’t mention anything that you saw tonight to anyone. Do you understand me?” The whites of his eyes caught the reflection of the flame in the lamppost.

I gasped.

“If you do, the cause will be ruin. Slavery needs to be obliterated, and if I have to do that single-handedly, then I will. I will find a way even if it’s not being a conductor. The Reader has ruined Amherst. We will no longer be able to help those trying to make it to Canada. It’s not safe.” He scowled at me. “Your brother has fault in this too.”

The Reader? That was the name that Matthew mentioned as well.

“Is that why you killed Henry, because you think he failed you in finding the Reader?” I asked.

“You think I killed Henry?” He glared at us.

I shivered. Even though I was tall for a woman, Mr.Johnson was still taller than I was. It wasn’t often I felt small, but next to Mr.Johnson, I did.

I was frightened, but I held my ground just like Emily had done. “I do.”

Some of the fire went out of his eyes. “I tell you I didn’t. Losing that boy was a great tragedy. I saw a future for him in this. He was passionate about the cause.”

I stared at him, confused.

“If you didn’t kill him, who did?” Emily asked.

“The Reader did, of course. Henry knew he who was. He told me as much, and he was going to tell me more the night he died. I was moving a young mother and her child to safety. I told him that I didn’t have time to discuss it the last time I saw him alive. I regret that now. I could have at least learned the name.”

I remembered something Jeremiah said about being away from the stables the night Henry died. “Was Jeremiah York with you when Henry died?”

Mr.Johnson’s eyes went wide. “How did you know that?”

I shook my head and felt an odd mix of relief and betrayal. Jeremiah had known that Henry’s death was tied to the Underground Railroad, and he knew that Mr.Johnson was innocent, but he told me neither. In fact, he had led me to believe that Mr.Johnson might be the killer. Why? Why didn’t he tell me the truth?

“Jeremiah was helping me move the mother and child that night. They were unwell and the child needed to be carried.”

My heart ached for that mother and child. Did they make it to safety? I wasn’t sure that Mr.Johnson even knew. After they left Amherst, they would have been in another conductor’s hands.

“Now, I will ask you two girls to stay away from this business. Henry was killed because he got too close. That could very well happen to you.” He marched away into the dark Mall.

We had to return to the hotel. My skin crawled at the thought of my brother’s diary being in someone else’s hands.

As promised, Buford and Betty Sue waited for us just where we had left them. Buford helped Emily into the carriage and then offered me his hand to assist me as well. He smiled at me. “Did you find the answers you’re looking for, Miss Willa?”

I gave him a wan smile. “I found answers to questions that I hadn’t known were there, but no, I didn’t find the answer to my question, my biggest question.”

The question I spoke of was who killed my brother.

Emily and I rode back to the Willard in silence. We were both lost in our own thoughts. I watched as Washington at night traveled by the window. There were a few people out walking briskly here and there. Carriages and wagons made their way down Pennsylvania Avenue. There were countless lights ablaze inside of the president’s house, and I wondered if there was some sort of formal function at the White House that night.

When we reached the hotel, Emily did not wait for Buford to open the carriage door but opened it herself. “This was a striking turn of events, wasn’t it? Who would have thought Mr.Johnson wasn’t the villain?”

“And Matthew,” I said quietly. “Matthew was helping Mr.Johnson, too, so he is also innocent in my brother’s death.”

Emily studied me and then said, “Let’s go inside and discuss it.” She hopped out of the carriage.

I stepped out of the carriage more slowly. “I have to go back in the maid quarters and return this dress for my own.”

She nodded. “Don’t be long; we have a lot to talk about.”

I nodded. We had more to talk about than she even knew.

“Miss Willa,” Buford said.

---