6
By Sunday, it seemed the news that Annie would soon travel to Peach Bottom had passed through the entire district. That afternoon, Samuel and Annie sat on the front porch of the Bachmann house while Dat rested just inside the house. The front door was open, so they were well chaperoned.
Samuel said he’d miss her while she was gone. “I’ll try not to worry,” he added. “But Peach Bottom is so close to Maryland. What if the fighting shifts that way?”
Annie had wondered that too and wished Harriet, George, and Noah could come home, but with Harriet’s time so close and George farming, it was impossible.
Samuel seemed deep in thought.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m just trying to think who else could go.”
“I’ve already thought through all of that,” she said, “and haven’t come up with anyone. I won’t be gone long.”
They were silent for another long moment, and then Samuel changed the topic. “Between what I’ve saved and what my father has pulled together, we’ve come up with the money to pay for me not to fight. Mr. Stevens is going to see to the documents.”
“Wunderbar,” she said. “Will he be back from Washington soon?”
Samuel took her hand. “Soon enough, anyway.” He gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure you won’t be gone long?”
She nodded. “Just a few weeks.”
“All right, we’ll talk more when you return—about our future.” His eyes grew soft. “Write to me when you can. You’ll be in my prayers.”
“And you in mine.” Her heart swelled. Jah, Samuel Yoder was a good man. She looked forward to her return. Surely, they’d talk about a time to marry then.
Dat drove Annie to the train station in Lancaster City before dawn the next day. However, she wouldn’t be taking the train. Instead she would ride with a wagoneer by the name of Woody.
The journey to Peach Bottom was just over twenty miles. They’d coordinated her meeting with the driver to fall close to the arrival of her grandmother and aunt. That way, Dat could shuttle Annie to the Lancaster train station and then the other two home all in one trip. Annie would have to wait an hour or so before the wagoneer would pick up his load—and her.
Dat gave her strict instructions to stay in the station. When they arrived, he parked the wagon and sent Annie inside to find her grandmother and aunt while he watered and fed the horses.
The place buzzed with activity as people rushed both toward and away from the tracks. Whistles blew in the distance, and the steam hissed as the trains approached and left the platforms. Vendors sold fruit, bread, and cheeses. Porters pushed carts loaded with luggage and crates. A few soldiers, along with scores of other people, sat on the benches, waiting for their trains.
Annie spotted her grandmother and aunt, waved, and hurried toward them. They had a cart of baggage and boxes. After they all greeted each other, Annie led the way to the wagon as they followed behind her. Once Annie had retrieved her own bag from the wagon and her father loaded her grandmother and aunt’s belongings, she told everyone good-bye.
“Do as I instructed,” Dat said to Annie.
She nodded, nervous to travel, especially alone. She’d be sure to be prudent every step of the way.
After she returned to the station, she sat down on a bench to wait. Peach Bottom was in York County on the other side of the Susquehanna River. Thankfully the driver would cross it by ferry and then deliver her straight to George’s front door.
She ate some of the food she’d packed. One piece of chicken and one biscuit. She’d save the rest for later. She licked her fingers and then wiped them on the cloth she’d packed.
Once she’d finished, she spent her time watching people until the man next to her left his newspaper as he dashed for his train.
She picked it up and began to read, overcome with concern as she did. A battle had taken place at Brandy Station, Virginia, and the South had won. She read on. It seemed the Confederate Army was still on the march. Some were in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, others still in Maryland. She couldn’t find where any had crossed the border into Pennsylvania. It seemed as if they were spread across a large area, ready to congregate in the same location soon. She hoped it wouldn’t be near Peach Bottom.
Another man, most likely younger than twenty, sat down next to her and nodded toward the paper in her hand, to the article about Brandy Station.
She nodded. “Where do you think they’ll attack next?”
“Some say they’ll head to Philadelphia. Rumor is Lee will swing all of his boys north once he reaches the Shenandoah.”
A shiver ran up Annie’s spine.
When a family with several children sat down beside her, Annie rose and gave them her spot, moving to a bench at the edge of the waiting area where she could see the loading docks out of the open doors. A freight train, loaded with lumber, came into the station. Three men, one who was black, approached it, checking the strappings that secured the logs on the train car. The group stepped between two cars and disappeared to the other side. After several minutes, the two white men reappeared, but not the black man. She watched, waiting for him to come back too, but after another fifteen minutes the train rolled out of the station.
There weren’t many black people in the station, but now and then a black man or woman would walk by. She knew, from Samuel, that the woman who managed Thaddeus Stevens’s properties in Lancaster was a black woman who actually owned property of her own too.
Annie continued to watch the tracks as she waited, thinking of the one trip she’d taken to Philadelphia on the train with Mamm, Dat, Sophia, and Josiah three years ago, soon after George had married and before Sophia fell ill. First, they’d visited their grandmother and aunt in Exton and then traveled on to Philadelphia for the day “just to see the sights,” as Dat had said.
Along the way, he’d told Annie about a great-great-great-aunt of his who had been a young woman during the Revolutionary War. He kept his voice low, perhaps because he didn’t want Sophia to hear. At that time Mamm and Dat still hoped that she’d shift her affections away from Richert. “This aunt ended up marrying a Scottish man from Philadelphia, but that’s another story. The one I’m thinking of now is that, in the dead of winter, she rescued her injured brother from Valley Forge.”
Annie had remembered that story when Sophia fell ill and then again when the war started. Other Bachmanns had faced hard times and hard decisions. It wasn’t just her family.
Another freight train full of lumber stopped, and this time five men, three white and two black, began checking the straps. Again they stepped between the cars and disappeared on the other side, and, again, one of the men—a black one—didn’t return.
Annie thought of Archer at the Fishers’. She’d heard of Englischers smuggling slaves north, all the way to Canada, but had guessed that had stopped once the war started. But maybe not. However, she didn’t know of any Plain people, not even Mennonites, who were involved in the practice. And she doubted the Fishers were. She guessed Hiram had simply been looking for a laborer for the day and had hired Archer.
But she couldn’t help but wonder about the two black men who had seemed to disappear on the tracks. Was there some hidden compartment where they’d been squirreled away for a ride to Philadelphia and that much closer to freedom?
In time, Woody stepped into the station and yelled, “Annie Bachmann!” He was tall and stood with his hat in his hands. His head was completely bald, although he was probably a decade younger than Dat.
The man’s name was Mr. Woodson, but everyone called him Woody, and he sometimes hauled hay for her father, so it wasn’t that she didn’t know him. But she certainly didn’t know him well. Dat trusted him though, and so would she.
She quickly gathered her things and followed him out to the street to his wagon. Annie was happy to see that he had another person riding with him, a woman at least Mamm’s age. The man gave Annie a hand up into the wagon; then he put her belongings in the back on top of the cabbages he was hauling.
The morning became warmer as they headed out of town and then traveled south. The older woman, a Mrs. Lacey, was heading to her son’s place at Peach Bottom. She talked and talked as they passed by pastures, fields, and woods. Thankfully the road was dry, and because six horses pulled the wagon, they made good time. Even though the ride was bumpy, Annie grew sleepy.
She awoke, realizing that she’d rested her head on the woman’s shoulder. Startled, she sat up straight.
“Now, now,” the woman said. “You rest your head as much as you would like.”
Annie appreciated the woman’s maternal kindness but stayed awake after that. She’d never been to Peach Bottom before, and she soaked in the countryside. It was hillier the farther south they traveled, but the land was well cared for and the farms appeared to be fertile. The scent of the cabbages in the wagon bed mixed with onions and grain and mowed hay as they traveled along. A horsefly buzzed around her head, and she swatted it away. Then a pheasant flew up out of a field, startling her.
The woman continued talking.
Soon the conversation shifted to the war. Annie asked Woody if he knew anything about the Battle of Brandy Station in Virginia. He said he hadn’t heard about it, but the woman had read yesterday’s paper too and spouted what Annie already knew.
Then the woman turned around and looked in the back of the wagon. “What’s in the boxes underneath the cabbages?” she asked.
Annie turned too. She’d thought the entire load was cabbages, but sure enough the load had shifted and in a few places pine boxes were visible.
The man didn’t answer, and Mrs. Lacey put her hand on one hip, bumping her elbow against Annie. “Well?”
“Sorry,” Woody said. “My hearing’s not so good.” With that he urged the horses to go faster.
Finally, in the late afternoon, the road began heading down the steepest grade so far. Soon the wide river came into view and then the ferry.
Woody pulled back on the reins to slow the horses, much to Annie’s relief. The grade was steep and the load heavy, she knew. As they neared the river, the watery, organic scent wafted through the breeze. Woody slowed the horses to a slow walk as they neared the ferry, a flat-bottomed boat that already had an empty wagon on board, with three Union soldiers standing beside it.
“My relatives have been using this ferry for over a hundred and fifty years,” Mrs. Lacey said. “The road from Peach Bottom goes on up to York. In times like these, I’m guessing there’s a lot of extra traffic going back and forth on it.”
Woody didn’t respond, and Annie didn’t say anything either. She simply kept her eyes on the soldiers below, wondering why they were in the area.
When they reached the ferry station, the operator motioned to Woody to stop. He instructed Mrs. Lacey and Annie to get down, and the operator quickly assisted them and then directed the two to board the boat first and sit on the bench near the front, close to the soldiers.
Annie was thankful to be with Mrs. Lacey and follow her lead. As they sat on the bench, the three soldiers tipped their hats. Mrs. Lacey said hello, but Annie ducked her head, knowing her face was hidden under the brim of her bonnet.
Once the wagon was on the ferry, Woody hopped down and struck up a conversation with the soldiers, although Annie couldn’t hear the details.
“I really wonder what he’s hauling,” Mrs. Lacey whispered to her. “Besides the cabbage. And I don’t believe for a minute he hadn’t heard about that battle yesterday. I think he’s working for the Union.”
From the tone in the woman’s voice, Annie wondered if perhaps she sympathized with the Confederacy.
Annie glanced at the wagon, although at the moment she couldn’t see any of the boxes under the cabbages. There was certainly nothing illegal about hauling supplies for the Union Army, and Annie didn’t blame Woody for not talking with the woman about his business.
The boat lurched as the operator pushed a pole in the water to get it started, and then lurched again as the current caught it. The rope running through the ferry guided it along as the operator continued using the pole.
The breeze from the river was cool against Annie’s face, and she turned toward the water, raising her head. As she did, she caught one of the soldiers staring at her. She quickly turned away from him and gazed back toward the shore.
When they reached the other side, Mrs. Lacey saw her son and waved a big hello. She then quickly told Annie good-bye, grabbed her bag from the back of the wagon, and hurried off the ferry.
Annie waited on the bench as the soldiers first drove the Army wagon off the ferry and then Woody followed in his. She then walked off, expecting to climb back in the wagon and quickly complete the journey. She was tired, hungry, and dusty from the trip.
“Wait a minute,” Woody said to her. “I’m going to drive the wagon over to that lot and then transfer my cargo into the army wagon.”
Annie waited for him to pass, turning her body away from the dust. When it had settled, she followed them to the lot.
It was a bit of a process to transfer the cargo to the army wagon. While the men worked, Annie watched the comings and goings around her. Peach Bottom was an interesting crossroads, with a road passing north and south, and one heading west. The river acted as another passageway. Just a few miles south was the Pennsylvania–Maryland border, which was also the Mason–Dixon Line. It separated the South and North. Slave and free.
Jah, Peach Bottom seemed to be a complicated crossroads. Much more so than the straightforward intersections back home that simply separated one community from another.
“Where are you headed?” the youngest of the soldiers asked Woody.
“Over to George Bachmann’s place.” He nodded toward Annie. “I need to deliver the girl.”
“Is that on our way?” one of the other soldiers asked the first one.
“Not really,” he answered. And then he hesitated.
“No, it is,” Woody answered. “And I’d be much obliged if you could take her with you. I could cross back over the river and get a head start on my trip back to Lancaster.” The ferry hadn’t left yet.
Annie stepped back. She didn’t feel at ease with Woody, but she felt even less comfortable with the soldiers.
The first soldier approached her. His hair was blond and curly underneath his hat. He spoke quietly, “I’m Private Ira King. I promise we’ll get you safely to your brother’s house.”
Annie glanced at Woody, and he nodded in return. “Go on,” he said. “Ira can be trusted. I’ve known him since he was a boy.”
She turned toward Ira King and said, “I’m Annie Bachmann, from Lancaster County.”
“Are you Plain?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I live here in Peach Bottom with my mother,” he said. “Well, I used to. Before I joined the army.”
He told one of the other soldiers to ride in the back with the cabbage, and the third soldier climbed up into the driver’s seat while Ira helped Annie up onto the bench, putting her in the middle. Her face grew warm. How she wished she were still riding with Woody instead.
The soldier in the back had moved cabbage off one of the boxes and sat behind them. They passed the post office and then a store. The street led them along several houses. Standing on the porch of the last one was Mrs. Lacey, still holding her bag. She shielded her eyes from the lowering sun and shook her head as they passed by, her lips pursed. Clearly she didn’t approve of Annie’s ride.
As they left the village, climbing up from the river, the wagon rolled along beside fields of alfalfa and grain.
“Hey, what’s in these boxes?” the soldier in the back asked.
“What do you think?” the driver asked.
“Boots, I hope,” the young man answered and then laughed.
“Ach,” Ira said. “Don’t expect anything as fine as that.”
“Guns.” The driver urged the horses to go faster.
Ira rubbed his chin, but the man in the wagon bed said, “It’s about time. It won’t be long until we’ll be getting back at those Rebs.”
Annie’s stomach tightened. The southern soldiers were God’s children too. She hated to think of them being shot with the rifles that had been delivered to Peach Bottom along with her. Then again, she hated to think of the Union soldiers, including Richert and Cecil, being shot at too.
After a few minutes, the driver said, “Tell us about yourself, little lady.”
Annie hesitated, not knowing what to say.
“She’s from Lancaster County,” Ira answered. “And not used to the likes of us.”
Annie was grateful for his words but wasn’t sure if she could trust any of the men. She sat up straight, trying to leave as much space between her and the three soldiers as she could.
“We could stop for some fun,” the soldier in the bed of the wagon said and then laughed.
Annie froze.
“Not if we’re going to get back to camp before nightfall.” Ira stared straight ahead.
“Ah, you’re such a stick in the mud,” the driver said.
“Now’s not the time for fun,” Ira answered. “Now’s the time to get our cargo where it belongs.” Annie tensed further at his words. Was he insinuating that if they didn’t have a job to do, she would be fair game? The thought made her feel ill.
A young buck bounded across the road, and the man in the back yelled for the driver to stop. He pulled out his gun and shot at the animal, but it escaped.
“Keep your eye out for another one,” Ira said. “There are plenty in these parts. Fresh venison would be a real treat.”
A few minutes later, Ira directed the driver to turn up a lane. Annie practically held her breath, hoping George’s farm was at the end of it.
A white house appeared with a wide porch, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. The farm spread out around the two-story home.
When the wagon stopped, Ira quickly jumped down, helped Annie, and then grabbed her bag from the back.
She took it from him and then, empowered that she was so near George, marched off toward the house without saying good-bye or even thank you.
The driver laughed and the soldier in the back joined in. Annie couldn’t tell if Ira did or not.
As she reached the porch, Annie could hear wailing. Her nephew, Noah, she guessed. Annie opened the door and called out, “George? Harriet?”
She stepped into a front room with a couple of chairs and a side table. The wood floors were worn and gray.
The wailing grew louder, and Noah stepped out of a room to the right. But when he saw her he turned and ran back into the room. Annie followed him. Harriet lay on a bed in a housedress, obviously pregnant and near her time, one arm over her forehead. The little boy leaned against the bed and howled.
“Harriet,” Annie said. “I’m here. Where’s George?”
“Still out in the field.” Harriet’s voice was so weak that Annie could barely hear her.
Annie got right to work. First she fed Noah a biscuit and a cup of the soup that was simmering on the stove in the small kitchen in the back of the house. Then she got the boy to bed. When George still hadn’t come in, she took a bowl of the soup in to Harriet.
Her sister-in-law sat up in bed and took a few bites. She managed to tell Annie that she’d been ill throughout the entire pregnancy. “But it’s getting worse again,” she said. “I can barely eat or stay on my feet. George has done all he can, but he has to see to the haying or we’ll have nothing to feed the livestock. A farmhand is so hard to come by with the war, so he’s mostly been working by himself.”
“What about help in the house?” Annie asked.
“I had a girl from town come stay, but she got so lonely she went back home. That’s when George wrote to your Mamm. Thankfully, another neighbor has brought a pot of soup over every few days or we’d all be starving.”
The conversation shifted to Lancaster County. Harriet said that she’d had a letter from her father, and her mother wasn’t doing well. The last letter they’d had from Cecil was months ago.
“My father said he’s serving with the 1st Pennsylvania Regiment.”
Annie nodded. “Jah, that’s what we’ve been told too.”
“Have you heard anything about them? Where they’re headed?”
Annie shook her head as footsteps fell through the house. Alarmed, Annie stepped to the door. Thankfully, it was George. He must have finished up his chores by lantern.
“Sister,” he said. “You can’t know our relief to have help.”
As he ate, he said he hated to take Annie away from caring for Sophia, but they were at the end of their rope.
“I’m glad I came,” she said. And she meant it. And then she explained that their grandmother and aunt had moved to Lancaster County, so there were plenty of people to care for Sophia.
As soon as he finished eating, he joined Harriet. Annie cleaned up the dishes and then carried the bucket of dirty water out into the side yard. Woods bordered it on the side away from the fields, with a full moon rising over the treetops. Annie dumped the water and put down the buckets, stepping toward the trees to admire the moon as she listened to the chirping of the crickets.
She heard a rustling and then a cry. At first she thought it was a feral cat or some other small animal, and she stepped back. But then another cry came. Sure it was a baby, she stepped forward, saying quietly, “Hallo. Is someone there?”
The baby began to howl, but it was cut short as if someone placed a hand over the baby’s mouth.
Annie was at the edge of the woods now, peering into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything at first, but then a blanket caught her attention. Then the image of a girl with dark skin, curled around a baby.
The girl looked up as Annie fell to her knees. “What are you doing here?”
“We needed a place to hide,” the girl whispered. She spoke with a drawl and obviously wasn’t from Pennsylvania. “Can you help us?”
“Jah.” Annie glanced toward the house. George and Harriet had enough to worry about, but she couldn’t ignore someone in need. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried to the rear of the house, expecting there to be a door to the cellar. There was. She opened it and peered down the steps, but it was too dark to see. She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed the lamp, and hurried back into the cellar.
It had river rock walls, and bins of potatoes, apples, and onions were stored in the back. It was chilly but clean enough. She left the lamp and hurried back to the girl, scooping up the baby so the girl could stand.
The baby whimpered but did not cry again. The girl limped as she walked, and Annie extended her free arm. The girl, who was a half head shorter than Annie, grabbed her and held on, as if for dear life.
Annie’s heart raced. Encountering Archer at the Fishers’ had been the closest she’d ever been to a black person. Now, as she slowed her step and helped the girl along, with the weight of the baby against her, she thought of God’s love for all of them. Then she thought of her ancestors fleeing Europe after being persecuted, just as this girl was fleeing the South. But other humans hadn’t owned her ancestors, not the way this girl and baby had been owned.
Once she had the two in the cellar, she hurried back into the house and found an extra chamber pot. Then she filled a jar with water and collected a few biscuits and wrapped them in a cloth. She also grabbed a couple of rags Harriet used for Noah’s diapers and hurried back to the cellar.
She found the girl nursing the baby, who thankfully seemed to be falling asleep. Annie asked the girl where she’d come from and she simply replied, “South of here.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I was told folks up north would help me once I reach Pennsylvania.”
“You’re in Pennsylvania now,” Annie said. “Just over the border.”
The girl bowed her head. “Thank the Lord—that slave patrol almost caught me last night. Do you think they’ll come after me here?”
Annie didn’t know for sure, but she suspected they’d cross the state border without hesitation if it meant catching a slave.
“Do you know who can help me?” The girl grimaced as she spoke.
Annie shook her head. Perhaps if she were back home she could ask the Fishers. She’d have to ask George, even though she hated to bother him when he was worried about the haying and Harriet and the new baby.
She broached the topic as she served George breakfast. “Do you ever have anyone slip over the border from Maryland in these parts?”
“Anyone?”
Annie inhaled and then whispered, “Any slaves.”
George shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that.” He stood and said, “I need to get out into the field. Hopefully the midwife will come today and check on Harriet—I sent her a message yesterday.”
After Annie had cared for Harriet and Noah, feeding both of them, she slipped down into the cellar with gruel and more biscuits. The girl woke, startled, at Annie’s footsteps. The baby stayed asleep, however, and by the light coming down the steps, he seemed rather limp.
“Do you know who can help us?” the girl asked.
“Not yet,” Annie answered. “I’m praying for a solution.”
“So am I,” the girl answered.
“Try to get the little one to drink.” Annie wondered if the girl had lost her milk.
“I’ve been trying,” the girl responded.
“What is your name?” Annie asked.
The girl hesitated and then said, “I guess it won’t matter if you know. Felicity. And this is Mingo.”
Annie introduced herself and then said she’d be back as soon as she could. She spent the rest of the morning doing the wash and hanging it on the line. Later, as she fixed the noon meal, Annie heard the baby in the cellar crying and she began to hum loudly and then broke out into song, hoping to mask the sound. Thankfully, Harriet didn’t seem to notice.
In the afternoon, after Annie had served George and he’d returned to the field, a buggy rolled up next to the house. Annie stepped onto the porch and a woman jumped down and tied her horse to the hitching post. She wore a bonnet that nearly concealed her face.
She waved. “I’m Kate Baxter,” she called out. “The midwife.”
“I’m Annie Bachmann. George’s sister.”
The woman grabbed a bag and started toward the house, her stride long and confident. “How is Harriet today?”
“Weak,” Annie answered.
“Hopefully she’s close to delivering.” Kate reached the steps and bounded up them. Once she was in the house, she took off her bonnet. She wore a head covering that Annie didn’t recognize. She wasn’t Amish—but perhaps she was from another Anabaptist group. She appeared to be in her forties. Although she was a country midwife, she spoke and carried herself like a city person.
As Kate spent time with Harriet, Annie put Noah down for his nap. When the midwife came out of Harriet’s room, she said, “The baby should be here within a few days. Have George send for me as soon as labor starts. Right now the baby is breech, but hopefully it will turn before delivery.”
Annie followed Kate out to the porch. “Why is she so sick?”
Kate shook her head. “I’m not sure, exactly. Some women just are—more during the first few months. Very few are ill this late in the pregnancy, but it’s not entirely unheard of.”
Annie winced, feeling bad for Harriet. “What should I do once she goes into labor?”
“Try to keep her comfortable. Wipe her face. Help her change positions. Keep her calm. Take care of Noah.” Kate tied her bonnet and then patted Annie’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”
The woman started down the steps, and Annie thought again of the girl and baby in the cellar. Kate seemed kindhearted. Annie felt a nudge to broach the subject.
“I have another question.”
Kate had reached the bottom step. “Yes?”
“I’ll follow you to your buggy.” As they walked, Annie whispered, “What if a person was to find a girl and a baby from south of here hiding in the trees? Is there anyone who could help?”
“Perhaps so.” Kate spoke slowly. “Perhaps one might send a driver with a wagon tonight, after dark, after others are asleep.”
“If so,” Annie replied, “would that someone be able to get the girl and baby to safety?”
Kate nodded. “If anyone could, it would be this one.”
Relief swept through Annie. “I would be awake then, waiting.”
Kate turned and met her eyes. “So be it.”
Annie hesitated a moment longer and then whispered, “What if the baby wasn’t well?”
The midwife exhaled. “Harriet was ready to nap—I can take a quick look.”
Annie led the way to the cellar and lifted the door. Kate slipped down the steps quickly while Annie busied herself taking the wash off the line.
“Annie!” George approached from the field. “Has the midwife come?”
“Jah,” Annie answered loudly. “She’s down in the cellar.” Frantically, she searched for a reason. “She’s getting a bag of potatoes as payment.”
George started to the cellar. “Kate,” he called out.
“I’ll be right there.” A moment later she appeared, a burlap bag in her hand. She spoke to Annie. “I don’t need all of these—you take out some for your dinner tonight.”
Annie took five out as George asked Kate about Harriet.
“I don’t think it will be long.” She told him what she’d told Annie about the baby being breech and about fetching her as soon as labor started.
“Denki,” George said, tugging on his beard. “How’s your boy doing? Didn’t he join the Union?”
Kate nodded. “The unit he’s with is on the move in this area, so he’s home for a few days.”
George shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know it must pain you. . . .”
Kate shrugged, appearing not to want to talk about it.
George said good-bye, told Annie he’d work as late as the sun would allow, and then headed back to the field.
Annie quickly put the potatoes down next to the basket, closed the door to the cellar, and turned toward the midwife. “You handled that so well.”
The midwife gave her a sly smile and then said, “Come with me to my buggy.”
As they walked, she said, “Get some cow’s milk and a rag down to the girl. I told her to soak the rag in the milk and to try to get the baby to suck it—or to wring it into his mouth.”
“I’ll do that,” Annie said.
As they reached the buggy, Annie asked, “Are you Plain?”
“Jah,” she answered. “Church of the Brethren.”
Some called them Dunkards. They were Anabaptists too, although the Brethren believed in a baptism of getting dunked instead of having water poured over the head as the Amish did. They’d originated in Europe and had fled to the New World to avoid persecution, just like the Amish.
Kate had a sad look in her eyes, and Annie wondered what she really thought of her son serving in the Union Army. She admired the woman though for not criticizing him in front of George. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” Kate said. “I can tell you have a good head on your shoulders. You did the right thing today, and you’ll do fine by Harriet too.”
Annie watched the woman go, and then she retrieved a jar of milk from the spring. She worked quickly to get a cup of milk and a rag down to the woman. By the time she’d finished, Noah was awake and he played outside while she finished taking the wash off the line. It was hot and muggy, and soon sweat dripped down the back of her legs and the side of her face. She was thankful it was cool in the cellar for Felicity and Mingo.
She continued with her duties throughout the late afternoon, sweeping, mopping, fixing supper, feeding Harriet and Noah, and then putting the boy to bed. George came in and she served him. It seemed he sat at the table forever as she washed the dishes. Finally, he joined his wife.
Annie finished cleaning up and then waited and waited.
Suddenly, she heard a whistle and she slipped out the back door with a lamp. The whistle sounded again, this time from the edge of the woods. A man stepped out of the trees. He wore a Union uniform but that was all she could make out in the dark.
Annie hesitated.
The man nodded at her and then toward the cellar.
“Who are you?” she whispered, stepping forward.
“The less you know the better,” the man replied as he lifted the cellar door. Annie couldn’t see his face under the shadow of the brim of his hat, but his voice was familiar. “Now hurry. I passed a wagon on the road with two strangers who seemed to be intent on finding something—or someone. The sooner I leave with your cargo, the better.”