The Color of Freedom by Michelle Isenhoff Read Free Book Online Page A

over the price of each object, but Patience bartered skillfully, doling out not a half-pence more than its worth for anything.
    Meadow shook her head in amusement. For all his peculiarities, Salizar was a shrewd businessman, and despite appearances and comments to the contrary, she realized he did quite well for himself. Money controlled his friendships, his actions, even his politics. But she still liked the old man. And to his credit, when the bargaining was done, he threw in a trinket for each of the children.
    The evening had grown late by the time the dealing ended. Patience caught sight of Meadow dozing in the corner and insisted they stay for the night. "I can arrange an extra bed and a mat for sleeping," she offered.
    "Nay, nay," Salizar declined. "My wagon suits me just fine, but the boy grows weary of sleeping on the hard ground. And I'll beg a warm stall and feed for Aberdeen."
    The thought of a real bed did sound nice after weeks of sleeping in haylofts and camping underneath the wagon. Meadow accepted gratefully.
    Patience eyed her critically. "How does a bath sound?"
    Meadow looked down at her soiled skin and clothing and grinned impishly. "Like heaven itself, ma'am."
    Patience nodded. "Fetch the water and I'll heat it while you tend your master's horse."
    When the bath was made ready, Meadow crouched in the wooden tub with a sigh of pure contentment. She scooped up handfuls of steaming water and let it roll off her cropped hair then hunkered down as far as she could and soaked until it grew cool.
    Scooping up a handful of soft lye soap from the tin Patience had provided, she scoured laboriously at the layers of dirt, startled to rediscover the pale color of her skin beneath. She scrubbed at her hair until it felt clean once again. When she had finished, the bathwater looked like mud.
    She dried herself with a scrap of soft flannel then reached for the clean clothing Patience had lent her. The shirt and breeches belonged to John and hung like sails on her slender frame. She cinched them up tightly with a length of twine.
    Tossing her own clothes into the dirty water, she scrubbed them with the strong soap, knowing they were soiled beyond repair. Wringing the excess water from them, she wadded them into a ball and left the room.
    With all the children asleep, the house was strangely quiet. Meadow padded across the worn floor in her bare feet, stopping abruptly at the sound of whispering. Was Salizar still inside?
    Curious, but unwilling to disturb anyone, Meadow crept into the sitting room and peered around a spinning wheel. Patience sat rocking in a corner with her eyes closed, talking urgently to herself.
    With a start, Meadow realized the woman was praying. How quickly she had forgotten the woman's husband had just ridden off on a long journey with a purpose that could label him a traitor, a hangable offense.
    She backed softly from the room, but an uncooperative floor board betrayed her. Patience glanced up. "Hello, Wynn. Feel better?"
    "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just on my way to rinse these and hang them to dry when I thought I heard something."
    "It's all right."
    Meadow felt extremely awkward. "I wish there was something I could do."
    There was a pause. "God is good," Patience finally stated.
    Meadow nodded. She had been taught that from youngest childhood.
    "He'll see us through these difficult times. You'll see."
    Meadow looked down at the puddle her garments were making on the floor. "I certainly hope so, ma'am."

Chapter 6
    Refreshed by a hearty breakfast and a comfortable night's sleep, Meadow and Salizar took their leave of the Blackburn residence at first light. They waved goodbye and promised to return if they traveled that way again.
    Salizar nodded his head enthusiastically as they rode away. "Didn't I tell you? The noblest family hereabouts."
    Meadow had to agree.
    Monotonous days rolled into each other, and spring began to advertise itself in the fresh, moist