Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [133]
He shook his head. “Not a thing. I act like I’m bored, waiting for you. Walk all around the empty lot, looking at the ground like I expecting to find treasure. Got near the fence but it’s too high to see over.”
“Were the prison sentries watching?”
“You bet. One of them ask what I’m doing but I play like I just a crazy old slave looking around for pennies. They yell for me to get on out of there, so I did—taking my time, of course.”
“What if they remember that we were snooping around, after the prison break?”
“Let’s worry about that when it happen.”
We waited a few days. Then on a snowy, overcast morning, Eli and I drove down to Canal Street and went inside the other building that shared the fenced yard—the James River Towing Company. This time the low-ceilinged office ran the width of the building, and there were indeed a pair of windows overlooking the rear yard. Unfortunately, shutters covered the lower half of the glass, blocking the view. Three desks shared space in the cramped office, but only one of them was occupied—by another very elderly man. Manners or not, he looked too frail to stand and made no attempt to do so. A wooden countertop separated his area of the office from the public.
“May I help you?” he called.
I put on my sweetest smile. “I hope so. I’d like to inquire about your towing rates. Do you haul only for commercial companies, or would you consider a small private contract?”
“You want us to haul your household goods, right?”
“Yes, how did you know? I’m concerned about protecting our family’s heirlooms if the city should be torched. Do you get a lot of requests of this sort?”
Eli rocked on his tiptoes beside me as I talked, trying to peer over the shutters. We were still too far away to see out the windows. We had to get closer.
“Sure do,” the man said with a sigh. “But we have more business than we can handle just hauling ore down the canal to Tredegar’s. Not nearly enough labor, either, with everyone off to war. You wouldn’t be interested in leasing that big Negro of yours, would you?” he asked, gesturing toward Eli.
“No, sorry. I’ve had a lot of offers for Eli, but I need him myself.” I glanced all around the office while we talked and I spotted a yellow cat on the other side of the counter, curled up asleep on one of the desks. “What a lovely cat. May I pet her? Is she friendly?” I sidled through the opening in the counter without waiting for his reply. Eli followed as if he’d been trained to stay glued to my heels. The man didn’t stop us.
“Cat’s friendly enough, I suppose. I don’t keep her for company. She’s a pretty decent mouser.”
“You don’t say? We have a terrible problem with mice in our stable, don’t we, Eli? They’re always into the feed, and they make an awful mess. Would you consider selling her?” The cat purred as I stroked her head.
“Nope, can’t sell her. I need her myself. She’s always having kittens every time I turn around, though. You’re welcome to the whole litter of them. I’ll just have to toss them in the canal, otherwise.”
I glanced over the shutters into the yard while he talked and saw why they had blocked the view. Overgrown weeds, rusted machinery, and piles of used lumber poked through the thin blanket of snow. But aside from a tool shed and all the junk, the yard was empty. I gave the cat a final scratch behind her ears and slowly retraced my steps toward the door.
“Thank you for your time,” I said. “I’ll stop by in the spring for a kitten, so make sure you don’t drown them all.”
We walked outside into the gray afternoon. Fresh snow dusted our carriage like talcum powder. “I guess we found our spot,” Eli said. “Just an empty yard. Nothing in it but junk.”
“You don’t suppose the office hires a night watchman, do you?”
Eli shook his head. “Man said there ain’t no one to hire.”
The following afternoon we went to Libby Prison to tell Robert the good news. “I think Eli and I have found