Hiram barely slept the day after their trip to Baltimore. The possibility of a riot overshadowed his excitement over his departure. He had fallen into bed exhausted. The idea that Goldie was somewhere planning something that could possibly harm everyone in East Towson, however, wouldn’t leave his mind. More haunting was the fact that he understood Goldie. Many a day he had considered taking the whip from Mr. Toley’s hand and reversing the scene. He could have, easily. He was bigger and stronger than his owner.
But he wouldn’t have been taking on just his owner. When word got out that Hiram had whipped his master, a posse would hunt him down and have him swinging from a tree. And that was what would happen here at East Towson. The posse would come in, and they would not care who started the riot. All of the slaves would be guilty, and all would share in the punishment. Hiram recognized how dangerous it could be for him. He would be sent back to Virginia and the wrath of Mr. Toley.
Over the next few days, Hiram saw the three men arrive back in East Towson in the evenings after working the fields. They went straight to their quarters. Hiram prayed and prayed that they had lost interest in the uprising.
In that time, his worry decreased. He started helping out at the ironworks in the evening. The darkness provided a good cover for the hour walk from East Towson to Baltimore. The work, hard but not like working a field, distracted him and helped him pass the remaining days.
Tonight, the work had ended early, and he arrived back at East Towson at the same time as Winnie. She was coming into the clearing from the opposite direction, her steps dragging enough to create a cloud of dust around her. But when she saw him, she gave him the broadest smile. His heart hammered, and he smiled back.
I will leave her soon. The thought hit him like a blow to the chest. She would not run, and he could not stay. His stomach twisted. Not only would he have to leave her in slavery, but leave her to suffer whatever consequences came if Goldie did start a revolt.
He closed the distance between them with wide steps and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened then relaxed into the hug, her head against his chest. If his heart could speak to her, say how it soared at her being this close, she would have heard it clearly.
“Leave with me.”
“Hiram,” she said, and tried to pull away.
He held on. “Please come with me. I cannot bear to leave you behind. We can have Pastor Matthew marry us before we go. If you got hurt…”
He felt her tremble in his arms, and her tears wet his shirt. “I can’t, Hiram. I have to buy our freedom. I can’t leave my family behind.”
“You could get more work in the North than here. You could sell your quilts.”
She pulled away from him. “You are asking me to leave my family behind to whatever punishment Mr. Madison gives if those men incite a riot?”
Hiram opened his mouth to contradict her and then realized that was indeed what he was asking her. “I am sorry.”
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her checks. “If I could go with you, I would.”
“Winnie…” The words got stuck in his throat. The words he knew were true. He took a step closer, filled his lungs with air, and said, “Winnie, I love you.”
She let out a small gasp, but in the dim lighting, he could see her eyes sparkling. “I love you too.”
He pulled her into his arms and she came without resistance. “I don’t care how long it takes, I will wait for you. I will send word through whatever way Pastor Matthew has set up.”
“Promise me,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“I promise.”
At that, she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around him. When she did, he remembered what was in his pocket.
He stepped back from her and removed an envelope with his pay from Mr. Gilchrest. “I will help you buy your freedom. Here is my pay.”
Winnie covered her mouth and shook her head. She was prepared to do it alone.
“Take it, Winnie. The sooner you are free, the sooner we can be together.”
She fell into his arms and wept. His little angel.
Winnie started a new notebook. Not of slave stories. This one differed from every other notebook she had, but it was just as precious. She sat in the kitchen chair with the book on her lap. The fire glowing in the hearth gave her enough light. She dated the first page and then entered the sum of money that Hiram had given her.
Hiram, her sweet, gentle man, was helping her get free. She would keep careful records like she had with the fugitives. How different things were now. Before, she was the one arriving to East Towson exhausted from a long workday. Now it was Hiram who staggered to her boardinghouse to give her his pay. Begging him to keep some of his money for himself had proved useless. She had succeeded once, when she all but forced him to buy some better work boots during one of their trips to Baltimore. As she recorded tonight’s payment, she smiled at his words to her.
“I am a strong, hard worker. There will always be work for strong people.” And every night he seemed to be proving his statement right.
She yawned and finished the entry. She would need to arrange some of her station records. Pastor Matthew had hinted that someone might be visiting to get the records from the last month. That made her smile too. That all the stories she recorded were going to Mr. Still in Philadelphia. The poor souls who had come through the station, whether liberated in this life or the next, would be remembered.
She had just touched her pen to the page when the door opened and her mother rushed in.
Winnie looked up, and seeing her mother’s expression, all her fears about Goldie rushed back. “Mama?”
“There is a fugitive at the church. A woman. She came with three small children, and one of the babes is sick.”
Winnie sprang to her feet, set the book down on the chair, and followed her mother.
The night’s humidity made her feel like she was breathing underwater. Several times she had to swat away mosquitoes. Still, the night smelled of dew and pollen, a soothing smell. She prayed as they walked, for the mother and the little babe. What a great risk this mother took.
They arrived to find the babe not sick, but lethargic with hunger. The mother had not eaten enough food herself to nurse the baby, so they softened some bread in water for the little one. He ate with gusto, and in the darkness of the moment, his hungry sounds and impatient squawks made them laugh. Winnie marveled at how they could find joy even in this situation.
They took the exhausted mother and children downstairs and arranged their bedding. Winnie yawned more than once. She did it so frequently that her mother finally turned to her and said, “Go home and get to bed.”
Winnie chuckled. “I guess I am extra tired tonight.”
“We are almost done.” Mama carried the babe to his mother. “You go.”
Winnie started to protest, but another yawn stopped her. “Good night.”
The night seemed like a dream as she walked, her tiredness making it hard to focus. All she could think of was sleep. Tomorrow would be another day of hard work at the Madison House. Her mistress wanted to turn all the mattresses. Winnie snorted. She had turned the mattresses last month, but she would be expected to do it again.
Her thoughts drifted and wandered from place to place. Distracted, she almost missed the crunch of footsteps behind her.
She whipped around to find Goldie behind her, grinning. “Miss Winnie. Odd to find you sneaking about this time of night.”
“Not sneaking.” Her heart rate ticked up. “I—Pastor Matthew needed help.”
“Must be real important for you to be out in this dark.”
“It was.” Winnie struggled for words. But then a question came to her mind. “What are you doing out this late, Goldie?”
He leered at her. “Tending to my business like you are tending to yours.”
She held her chin high and put as much confidence as she could into her stance. “Then we should be off to our separate businesses.”
As they parted, she walked as fast as she could, resisting the urge to look back. Goldie’s business could get them both into trouble, or worse, dead. And so could hers.