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She yanked herself free and ran to the horse. Sobbing, she wheeled her horse around and headed back for the Peterson House. She had to make things right with Nancy now, for tonight would be too late. Lauralee would not even be there for a final, melancholy farewell.
Chapter 22
With long eyes I wait,
Expectant of her.
My lady comes at last.
—WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
Her valises packed and placed snuggly at the back of her buggy along with Dancing Cloud’s belongings and his saddle and saddlebags, Lauralee paced the floor, waiting to see that Abner and Nancy were asleep.
When the clock below her in the parlor began chiming off each separate hour, she mentally counted them to herself, then said the time aloud in a soft whisper as it came closer to the midnight hour.
“Nine . . . ten . . . eleven . . . twelve,” the said, clasping her hands before her.
Her eyes widened with a mixture of excitement and fear for what she had planned. It would be the most daring thing she had ever done in her life.
But she had to do it.
She must!
She would not leave Dancing Cloud at the mercy of any man.
Not even her beloved Uncle Abner.
Although Judge Peterson would have the final word that would decide Dancing Cloud’s fate, Lauralee couldn’t chance that he might even, himself, go against her beloved Cherokee. Her uncle might use this opportunity to separate her and Dancing Cloud forever by sending Dancing Cloud to a prison for a lengthy sentence.
She could not chance that.
Come hell or high water she was going to break Dancing Cloud out of jail tonight.
Tying a shawl around her shoulders, Lauralee stepped out into the quiet hallway. Her heart thudded inside her chest as she peered toward her aunt and uncle’s door. She breathed a sigh of relief when she did not see lamplight at the crack beneath the door.
She tiptoed to their door and leaned an ear to it. She heard absolutely nothing. That had to mean they were asleep.
Unsure of how soundly her aunt and uncle slept, she feared what she had to do next. While leading her horse and buggy from the stable, would she be heard? She knew that she had grown used to sleeping through all sorts of noises at the orphanage.
But here on the outskirts of Mattoon everything was so quiet. The sound of wagon wheels and horse’s hooves could sound like thunder to someone who was trying to get a peaceful night of sleep.
Knowing that she would have to take that chance, Lauralee clutched the shawl more tightly around her shoulders and tiptoed to the staircase, and then down the steps. There was no lamplight or candles to light her way. Just one slip of the foot and she would be caught.
Nervous perspiration beading her brow, she finally reached the first-floor landing. She felt her way down the long corridor, through the kitchen, and then to the door that led to the back porch.
She held her breath as she slowly inched the door open. She eyed the outdoors and the shadows of the night. The moon was only a slight sliver in the sky now and gave off scarcely any light.
Seeing Dancing Cloud’s freedom only a short time away should she succeed with her ploy to draw attention from the jail, Lauralee ran down the steps. She lifted her travel skirt from the dew of the night and ran toward the stable. She cast
a look over her shoulder toward the Petersons’ bedroom window. Thus far they had not been awakened. But the true test was soon to come.
Breathless, Lauralee patted her horse and smoothed her gloved hand down its withers. She then stared into the buggy at one bag in particular at the back. Inside this bag were rolled-up pieces of paper that she had taken from her uncle’s wastebasket, and small pieces of kindling she had taken from a bucket beside the front parlor stove.
She reached inside the pocket of her skirt and circled her fingers around several matches. She prayed that she had stolen enough to get a good fire going across the street from the jail.
Smiling and trembling, Lauralee quickly stepped up into the carriage and plopped down. Picking up the reins, she lightly snapped them.
As the horse and buggy left the stable, Lauralee kept her eyes on the Petersons’ bedroom window. If she saw a stirring of the sheer, lacy curtains, then she would know that her plan had failed and that Dancing Cloud would have to stand trial after all.
