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Chapter Six
An hour or so before dawn, Raven was gently shaken awake by her mother’s hand. “Wake up, love. We know where Welch is staying.”
Struggling to make sense of the words, Raven sat up in the dark and dragged her hands over her bleary eyes. “Where is she?”
Her mother answered, and added, “I want Miss Ezra to take her breakfast. Vana is cooking it now.”
Still half asleep, Raven nodded. “Okay. I’ll get her ready.”
“Mr. Winslow will drive.”
After her mother’s departure, Raven left the bed to wash up and get Miss Ezra ready.
Gray-haired Mr. Winslow stopped his wagon in front of the boardinghouse on the outskirts of the city, and set the brake. In the early morning silence punctuated by distant birdcalls, he climbed down to help his passenger. Miss Ezrawas an old woman, dressed in a well-worn skirt and blouse and with an old green tignon covering her gray hair. Due to her age and the pains in her legs, her descent was difficult, so he let her take her time. Welch’s breakfast of grits, ham, biscuits, and cooked sweetened peaches was on a covered tin plate kept warm by the heat of a small brazier in the wagon’s bed. He wrapped the plate in hand towels to keep Miss Ezra from burning herself and passed it her way.
“I’ll be back directly,” she assured him.
He nodded and watched her slowly make her way to the door.
A middle-aged White woman with dyed red hair answered the bell, and upon seeing Miss Ezra, smiled kindly. “Good morning, Auntie. May I help you?”
“I brought breakfast for the Yankee woman that rented the room from you yesterday.”
Confusion came over the landlady’s face.
Miss Ezra explained, “The lady had supper at my daughter’s shop yesterday and asked if we could bring her breakfast. Said she wasn’t sure if you served meals or not.”
“Ah. Come on in.”
Miss Ezra stepped into the aging parlor. “Did she have breakfast already? Don’t like to waste food.”
“No, she hasn’t. She’s in the second room onthe left. I don’t know if she’s awake yet. You go on and knock. I need to check on something in the kitchen.”
“Thank you kindly.”
The landlady hurried away and Miss Ezra knocked on the designated door. It was answered promptly and opened. “Yes?” Welch snapped impatiently.
“Your breakfast, ma’am.”
Welch took the plate without a word and closed the door in the old woman’s face.
“You’re welcome,” Miss Ezra snarled under her breath in response to the bad manners, and trudged back out to the wagon.
Once she was aboard, Mr. Winslow drove them away. When he was certain they were far enough from the house not to be seen, he removed his gray wig. “Damned thing is hot.”
Raven, taking off her shoes to remove the pebbles that hobbled the way she walked, said to Renay from beneath Miss Ezra’s stage paint, “Rude woman didn’t even say thank you. Hope she enjoys spending all day in the privy.”
He looked over. “Chapter one in the book calledNever Poke theMoreaux.”
Raven smiled, wiggled her bare toes, and settled in for the ride home.
Renay dropped Raven off at the front of her mother’s house and drove back to his apartmentin the Quarter. Carrying her shoes, Raven went inside. Her mother and the Steeles were seated at the dining table having breakfast.
“It went well?” her mother asked.
Raven nodded. “Yes.”
Harrison Steele’s eyes went wide. “Raven?” His son’s face showed the same surprise.
