Clockwork Souls Read Online Free

hours ago and the yard was dry,
the air warm. From where they were working in the potato field, Thomas and
William saw the riders turn off the main road. They reached the house just
before the three men. Hannah stood on the porch, drying her hands on her apron.
Adam was not in view, most likely still within the house. The last time Thomas
had seen the automaton, he had been sitting on a bench in the kitchen, slowly
and carefully shelling peas.
    The leader was a big-boned man with a thick, ginger-colored
mustache and a distinctive red vest under his open coat. Thomas had never met
the man before, but thought he must be Robert A. Cochoran, the same
slave-catcher named on Adam’s warrant. Cochoran pulled his horse to a halt,
sending the long tails of his coat flapping, but did not dismount.
    “Afternoon.” He tipped his hat to Hannah. “Ma’am.”
    Thomas stepped forward. “Good afternoon, friend.”
    Cochoran sucked air through his teeth. “I’ve come for the
nigger. Don’t give me no story, neither, ’cause I know he come by here.”
    “Thee is searching for a runaway slave?”
    “You heard right. We can do this the easy way—you hand him
over and we’ll be on our way. Or me and my men can drag him out, and I can’t
guarantee what might get broke in the process.”
    “Thee will find no slaves here.”
    “You’ll understand if I don’t take your word for it.”
Cochoran lifted one hand to signal his men.
    “Friend, thee is in Delaware. We have laws, and thee could
go to prison for breaking into another man’s premises. I assure thee I have
none of thy property here.” Thomas spoke smoothly, having had similar
conversations a number of times.
    Hannah came down the steps. “By thy appearance, thee has
traveled a long way. Thee and thy companions must be thirsty as well as tired.
Come in, rest with us, and share our dinner.”
    Her words produced the usual effect in those unaccustomed to
the ways of Quakers. The two hands shifted in their saddles, exchanging
glances. Cochoran looked confused, then suspicious, then even more confused. “That’s
kindly of you, ma’am, but my business is tracking down the nigger. I’ll have to
search the house. And the barn.”
    “Of course,” she said with her gentle smile, “but thee will
do so with clean hands and a full stomach.”
    The slave-catcher wavered visibly. Before he could respond,
however, Adam came out onto the porch. In his plain white shirt and trousers
with suspenders, he looked like any other Quaker. He did not speak, only stood
there. Something in his stillness reminded Thomas of the intent, listening
silence of Meeting.
    Cochoran stiffened in the saddle. “Where’s the nigger? Why
ain’t you caught him?”
    For a moment, no one answered.
    “Well? Get down here!”
    Adam did not move. Thomas wondered if this was the first
time Adam had deliberately disobeyed a command. He thought, Only men may choose to answer the leadings
of the Inward Light, rather than the commands of a worldly authority.
    He turned to Cochoran. “I have told thee, friend, there are
no slaves here.”
    “Maybe not,” Cochoran
said. “Maybe the nigger’s long gone. But that —”
with a jerk of his chin toward the porch where Adam stood, “—that
belongs to my employer, Durham N. Turner. For all your fine words, Pastor, you
are indeed in possession of another man’s property.”
    Hannah walked up to Adam and took one of his hands in hers. “Adam,
does thee wish to go with this man?”
    Adam’s shoulders hunched. “No, I do not. I do not wish to
catch slaves.”
    Her voice was gentle, relentless. “And why is that?”
    “Servitude is hateful to me. I will not inflict it on
another.” If it were possible for a mechanical throat to form a sob, that sound
permeated Adam’s response. “If I, who am metal and glass, can comprehend this,
then so much more must a living man, no matter the color of his skin or his
station in life. Even—” and here his gaze returned to