Different Sin Read Free Page B

always enjoy your scenery. We’ll be looking forward to the show.” Tom stopped, at a loss for further conversation. “Well, Dotty’ll be cross if I let my lunch grow cold.” His footsteps pounded down the stairs.
    David pulled the sketches toward him as Tom left, then stopped, wearying of his efforts. Putting the scene designs back in the drawer, he picked up his pen and returned to his letter to Walker.
    ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
    “We share a common enthusiasm, it would seem,” Walker responded. “Some of my happiest hours have been passed in the theatre. In fact, I’ve trod the boards myself from time to time in amateur theatricals— though I must admit, in most minor roles.”
    David smiled and leaned back in the wing chair. The oil lamp cast its circle of light on Walker’s letter, which had been awaiting him on the hall table. The stillness in the room was broken only by the rustling of the paper. His father had retired for the night, probably hours before David had parted company from Doug and Phil, his assistants at scene painting. They’d had an extra glass of ale apiece at Gadsby’s Tavern to celebrate finishing the scenery.
    He returned to the letter, turning the page with fingers still showing faint streaks of paint. “Have had little time for such pleasures of late. Our struggle against the extension of slavery into the Northwest Territories continues despite the setback of this wicked law. Greeley is determined to keep up the fight for Free Soil.
    “It’s occurred to me that you are bound to have first-hand knowledge of the evils of slavery, situated as you are in a slave-holding state. Any illustrations you can forward to the Tribune will be of immense value in bringing home to our readers the cruelties of human bondage during the coming political struggle.”
    David set down the letter, frowning in dismay. Despite the abolitionists’ trumpetings of the horrors of slavery, he’d seen little evidence of such cruelty himself. There were occasional separations of families in the slave trading establishments lining Duke Street, when circumstances made a sale of household servants unavoidable. But for the most part, his neighbors treated their Nigras with consideration.
    He leaned back, suddenly tired, rubbing his forehead to forestall the beginnings of a headache. Most of the slaves he saw seemed contented enough to him. And certainly the large numbers of free colored in town bore evidence of the indulgence of their former owners.
    Just look at Mike’s old friend, Ned. In the hours his master had allowed him to work on his own behalf, he’d managed to buy his way out of slavery. In the years since, he’d not only succeeded in helping the rest of his family purchase their freedom, but was prospering in the carpentry shop he’d opened on South Royal Street.
    David rose, extinguished the lamp, then froze as another memory surfaced. He stood a moment as remembered images filled his mind, alive before him in the darkened room, then hurried up the stairs to his bedchamber.
    The blanket chest at the foot of his bed was crammed with sketches he’d saved over the years. It took several minutes to find the one he had in mind. He moved across the room, studying the drawing critically in the light of the lamp on the bureau. He’d been just seventeen when he drew it, but it was better than anything else he’d done as a boy.
    He hadn’t signed it when he’d done the drawing. David inscribed his name at the bottom now. He’d write Walker in the morning and enclose the sketch with his letter.

Chapter 2 — 1854
    THE THEATER PIT HAD BEEN CONVERTED TO A BALLROOM to celebrate the success of the fall theatrical. Jubilant actors, their faces still greasy with hastily removed makeup, accepted congratulations from the enthusiastic audience. Taffeta gowns rustled as party-goers greeted one another, admiring the production in high-pitched, honeyed tones. “The show never would’ve been such a success without