Chains Read Free

size of my mother, with milky skin and freckles. She looked familiar and caused me to search my remembery.
    â€œWe’ll have Jenny fatten up the British navy and make their ships sink to the bottom of the sea!” yelled a red-faced man.
    The big woman, Jenny, laughed as she set a bowl in front of the man. The proprietor called her over to join us. She frowned as she approached, giving Ruth and me a quick once-over while tucking a stray curl under her cap.
    â€œThese are the girls,” Mr. Robert explained.
    â€œIt don’t matter,” the proprietor said as he put his hand on Jenny’s back. “We don’t hold with slaves being auctioned on our front steps. Won’t stand for it, in fact.”
    â€œI thought this was a business establishment,” Mr. Robert said. “Are you opposed to earning your percentage?”
    â€œYou want to listen to my Bill, mister,” Jenny said. “Advertise in the paper, that’s what we do around here.”
    â€œI don’t have time for that. These are fine girls, they’ll go quickly. Give me half an hour’s time on your front steps, and we both walk away with heavier pockets.”
    Jenny’s husband pulled out a rag and wiped his hands on it. “Auctions of people ain’t seemly. Why don’t you just talk quiet-like to folks? Or leave a notice tacked up, that’s proper.”
    â€œI recall an auction not twenty yards from here,” Mr. Robert said. “One of Brown’s ships brought up a loadof rum and slaves from the islands. They must have sold thirty-five, forty people in two hours’ time.”
    â€œRhode Island don’t import slaves, not for two years now,” Jenny said.
    â€œAll the more reason why folks want to buy what I have to sell. I want this done quickly. I have other business to tend to.”
    â€œIs that our problem, Bill?” Jenny asked her husband. “He says that like it’s our problem.”
    â€œEase off, Jenny,” Bill said. “The girls look hungry. Why don’t you take them to the kitchen?”
    Jenny looked like she had plenty more to say to Mr. Robert, but she gave Ruth and me a quick glance and said, “Follow me.”
    Mr. Robert grabbed my shoulder. “They’ve already eaten.”
    â€œNo charge,” Jenny said evenly. “I like feeding children.”
    â€œOh.” Mr. Robert released me. “Well then, that’s different.”
    Jenny closed the kitchen door behind her and motioned for Ruth and me to sit at the table in the middle of the room. A cauldron of stew hung above the fire in the hearth, and two fresh pies were cooling by the window.
    â€œEat first,” she said. “Then talk.”
    She cut us slices of brown bread and ham and poured us both big mugs of cider. Ruth gulped hers down quick and held out her mug for more. Jenny smiled and refilled it. I made short work of the food, keeping one eye on the door in case Mr. Robert walked in. The back door to the kitchen was wide open to let in the breeze. Should I grab Ruth’s hand and try to escape?
    Jenny read my mind. “No sense in running.” She shook her head from side to side. “He’d find you right away.”
    I scowled at my bread and took another bite.
    â€œI’d help you if I could,” she said. “It’d be the least I could do for Dinah.”
    I wasn’t sure I had heard her right. “Pardon me, ma’am?”
    â€œYou’re Dinah’s girl. Knew you when you walked in the door.”
    â€œYou knew my mother?”
    Jenny stirred the cauldron of stew. “Your mother and your father both. I held you when you were just a day old. I heard she passed away last year. My condolences.”
    She cut two pieces from the apple pie and gave them to Ruth and me. “I was indentured when I was your age. Old Mister Malbone had five of us from Ireland, along with near thirty slaves. Worked us all just