Sister Ruth was seated at one of the cafe's tables with Robert E and Grace.
"It's good of you to do this for us," Robert E said politely.
"We do appreciate it," Grace agreed quickly. She hoped she sounded genuine enough, but she was sure her feelings must have showed. She'd had her heart set on getting married in a church. "We'd hoped the reverend would do it, but if we ain't welcome in his church, we'd just as soon you do it."
"I'm very sorry I don't have a church for ya'll," Ruth said. "But God ain't only inside of a church. He's anywhere we are."
Robert E and Grace both nodded their agreement though their disappointment was still palatable.
"I promise the ceremony will be as traditional as it comes in every other way from the vows to the march down the aisle," she assured them.
They attempted to smile.
"What's your full names?" Sister Ruth asked.
"I've only ever been Robert E."
"And I'm just Grace." She would never claim her father's surname. She would soon be Mrs. Robert E and that's all she cared about.
Grace glanced over at Robert E. Goodness how she loved that man, but she wondered in that moment if he would still want to marry her if he knew how she'd grown up in New Orleans and just who her parents were.
October 1832
Kid Cole was crouched down oiling the wagon wheels with linseed oil.
Ruth watched alligators circling the waters, the tops of their heads barely breaking the surface of the swampy waters. It was probably silly, but she had the distinct feeling they were sizing her and Kid up as a possible meal option. The sooner they rode into New Orleans, the happier she would be.
Ruth had been wearing her cape but now that the sun was fully up, it warmed considerably to a humid 70s. She put her cape in the back.
"You done?" she asked impatiently. She wished he'd chosen another time to oil the wheels, preferably in a climate without alligators.
He had the ghost of a smile as he returned the bottle to where it belonged. "I'm done."
"It's times like these, I wish I was back in Virginia," she commented as he helped her up onto the wagon seat.
"It's times like these, I bet you're glad I carry a gun," he said settling beside her, the smile fully there now.
"I ain't arguing." She tried to focus on the beautiful trees with the droopy branches, but the thought of the wildlife kept her mildly uneasy.
He shook his head and laughed. "I've watched you facedown grown men whose own mothers are probably scared of them without an ounce of fear and yet you're frightened of alligators minding their own business."
"Yeah, but if they decide to attack, you can't reason with and bring an alligator to the Lord."
He chuckled and New Orleans came into view. They could tell even from this distance that it was a big and busy place. It wouldn't be surprising if it could boast being the biggest city in the south.
Kid asked for directions to the local bawdy houses to a man who didn't look as if he would be offended to be asked, and he gave them, but it must have seemed an odd choice for a couple, especially when their occupation was plain to be seen on the cover of the wagon and in the Bible that Ruth held. Since Lydia and Camille, they had an increased heart for the women entrapped in that lifestyle. Ruth also had compassion for the owners and exploiters as well though Kid had less patience with them.
A couple streets later, they found themselves on Rampart Street. It seemed like a pleasant enough street. There were plenty of shade trees and nice-looking houses. Clearly they must've taken a wrong turn somewhere.
They saw a little black girl of 11 or so jump roping in the street. Her clothes were finer than most though the modesty of them and the air of innocence suggested that she was not a prostitute.
The child stopped and gathered her rope in one hand. "Ya'll lost?"
Ruth gazed down the street at the fine houses. Clues like toys and the fact that no one had come running to see who'd made the clatter the wagon created from riding on cobblestones implied that families lived on this street and not women of ill repute. "We might be. You live in one of these houses?"
She pointed to the lovely house behind her done in the Greek revival style, a popular style in New Orleans judging from all the others they'd seen. "Sure do. My mother can give you directions to where you want to go." She immediately turned around and ran up to the front door, expecting they would follow without question.
They got down from the wagon and followed her.
The inside of the house was as opulent as the outside suggested maybe even more so. Velvet-covered furniture, oil paintings, and a crystal chandelier could all be seen from the entranceway.
"Mother, visitors!" the girl called.
A tall woman with a deep ebony skin tone came and greeted them. "I'm Cecile and this is my daughter Grace, but maybe you already know that. May I help you?" Her speech was very melodic and refined, suggesting education.
Ruth explained their reason for being in New Orleans. "My name's Ruth Cole, but you can just call me Sister Ruth and this is my husband, Kid Cole. We were looking for the city's saloons and brothels to minister to those poor souls. We also do revivals, faith healing, and just anything else we can do that seems like the Lord needs us to do. I guess you could say we're the Lord's jacks-of-all-trades."
"She mostly does those things. I just follow behind her and make sure some of the more 'lost' don't get out of hand," Kid added modestly.
"I think that's so charitable," Cecile said. "You really must stay with us while you're here. As you can see, this house can more than accommodate 4 people."
Grace looked at her mother admiringly. They had their differences, but she was the soul of southern hospitality and charm.
When they hesitated a moment, not wishing to impose since they had money for a hotel, Cecile continued, "Please, consider it my contribution to the cause."
Ruth smiled and Kid tipped his hat. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, "we'd be honored."