For two weeks Coral both wondered and worried about the man she’d spotted near the creek. All Josiah had told her was that the man, Amos, was a freedom seeker, recovering from exhaustion, malnutrition, and cut and bruised feet. He had taken Amos away from their homestead, and Coral had not seen Amos since.
“Daughter, will you help me to the table, please?”
Coral hurried to assist her father. He could get around camp now, but his legs were still a bit shaky. Mama added another piece of wood to the fire and stirred a large kettle of venison stew.
Papa combed his fingers through his beard, as if to contemplate his words before he spoke. “We appreciate your keeping quiet about the freedom seeker, but we must have your word that you won’t do anything that would put him in danger. Sometimes it can be difficult discerning the intentions of those we call friends.”
“Yes, of course.” Coral folded her arms across her chest. Granted, she hadn’t been involved in her parents’ abolitionist groups when they’d lived in Maryland, but she wasn’t about to gossip about her knowledge of the runaway, either. Papa and Mama should know that.
“I mean it, Daughter. I don’t want you writing to Ashlynn or Roland and telling them about the man you saw. Is that clear?”
“I wouldn’t do that, Papa. I won’t, I promise.” Tears pooled in her eyes. They didn’t trust her. Along with a sting of betrayal came a frightening realization. How far did her parents take their abolitionist views? Far enough to work on the Underground Railroad? She suspected as much from Josiah, but from her parents?
A pang of guilt gripped her. They really wouldn’t trust her if they knew she’d asked him to secretly mail her letter to Roland. The only thing she’d mentioned in her letter was the weather and how much she missed him. Well, she still thought she missed him, although he occupied her daydreams less and less.
“Samuel.” Mama turned to face them. “I have enough beans and flour to make meals for only one more day. A trip into town is necessary. Shall I ask Josiah to escort Coral and me?”
“Why don’t we all go tomorrow?” Papa said. “I can get around well enough, and I’d like to speak with Mr. Wilbur, see if he needs any help with his postal business.”
“And I still need thread for sewing, especially for my quilt.” Excitement stirred within Coral. The notion of shopping in town for a day assuaged any ill feelings she had about her parents not trusting her.
“What about Josiah? Won’t he want to come with us?” Coral asked. Heat radiated through her at the thought of spending more time with him. She could get him to introduce her to Mr. Wilbur, and perhaps they could have lunch together. A blush tingled in her cheeks.
Josiah was so kind. With the exception of Sundays, he had worked every day, from first light until dusk, for the past two weeks to finish their house. He even helped with chores.
“We’ll ask him when he gets here in the morning,” Mama said.
Coral drew so many buckets of water from the creek her arms ached, but at last enough water had been heated to give them all a good scrubbing. She didn’t neglect to use her lavender-scented soap. When she laid her head on her pillow that night, she envisioned all the shops in town. One of them had to carry sewing goods.
She had no more than closed her eyes when the zing of an ax hitting wood jolted her awake. She recognized the happy tune Josiah often whistled.
Coral kicked off her blankets, dressed quickly, and applied some of her lavender-scented fragrance to her wrists and neckline. Then she clambered down from the wagon.
The first rays of sunshine peeked over the eastern horizon, coloring the sky with hues of pink and yellow. She paused to admire God’s brushstrokes against the vast canvas. In spite of the Creator’s handiwork, the morning air still had a bite to it. She shivered and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
“Good morning,” Mama said. “Josiah has been kind enough to cut firewood for us while your father harnesses the horses for our trip to town.”
“Thank you, Josiah.” Coral smiled at the man who hadn’t even broken a sweat. He flashed a smile at her, nodded, and went back to work. Her heart skipped a few beats. A spot in her middle somersaulted like an acrobat. Roland never made her feel this way—or had he, and she just didn’t remember?
Coral pushed the thought from her mind and helped her mother with breakfast. While stirring the last of the oatmeal, she snuck a look at Josiah. He stooped to gather an armload of wood then strode over and piled it near the wagon. Try as she might, she could not picture Roland working as hard as Josiah Williamson. For a brief moment she wondered what good qualities Roland had.
“Coral, stir, before it burns.”
“Yes, Mama.” She scraped the wooden spoon against the bottom of the pot and tried not to gawk at Josiah.
“I finished hitching the horses,” Papa said. “They can eat from their grain sacks while we have breakfast ourselves. Then we can be on our way.” He limped across the camp and plopped down on the bench seat. When everyone else came to the table, Coral bowed her head while he said the blessing. She asked God to give her wisdom.
During breakfast Josiah turned to her father. “Sam, why don’t you rest in back of the wagon while I drive the team into town? I know the way to Wilbur’s Mercantile, and you’ve asked me to introduce you to him.”
“That sounds fine,” Papa said.
When breakfast was finished they climbed into the wagon and Josiah took the reins.
Later, when he steered the horses onto Main Street in Newport, Coral squealed with delight. Overjoyed at being around civilization, she squirmed like a child in church. She craned her neck around for a better view of her surroundings. Her mind raced at the different parties she could have at the hotel once they were settled, perhaps. She couldn’t wait to write Ashlynn and tell her all about the town. Papa and Mama surely couldn’t be upset at that.
Should she write another letter to Roland too?
Josiah pulled the wagon up to Wilbur’s Mercantile. Thoughts of Roland sailed out of Coral’s head. She wanted to jump from her seat. The establishment wasn’t anything as grand as the shops in Annapolis, but she could hardly wait to see the inside. There had to be enough sewing supplies so she could finish her quilt. Josiah alighted from the conveyance and held out his hand to assist her as she climbed down.
They strolled into the building, but not fast enough for Coral.
“Afternoon, Wilbur.” Josiah began the introductions. “This is the Martin family I told you about. Sam Martin, his wife, Anna, and their daughter, Coral.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilbur.” Coral dipped a haphazard curtsy to the man then darted to the fabrics and threads stacked against the far wall. She ran her fingers over the smooth cotton plaids and dreamed of the many hexagons she’d cut from all the floral prints and multicolored ginghams. While picking out the right shade of blue to finish the current piece she worked on, the hushed words of the store owner gripped her attention.
“I’ve been able to repair most of the damage to the package, but someone unfriendly without a claim slip tried to confiscate it. We have to ship it north, and soon, before they come back, or the package will be lost forever.”
Something like lightning zipped through Coral.
She knew what they were talking about.
Josiah stepped into the back room of the store. Amos, the lost package that had been found at the Martins’ homestead, crouched against the wall. The man clutched a threadbare blanket but was obviously ready to bolt up and fight if danger appeared.
He and Wilbur had worked hard to nurse Amos back to health. The bruises and gashes on his feet had almost healed. The ragged marks crisscrossing his back would be there forever, as would the scars to his mind, but Amos was strong.
Josiah didn’t wish to break the fragile trust between them. It had taken Amos three days to regain consciousness after he and Coral spotted him by the creek. Hunger and exhaustion would do that to a man, but Amos hadn’t given up. Thanks to some herbal medicine, the fever had broken and he was on his way to recovery.
“I brought you a new pair of shoes.” Josiah knelt and held the footwear out to the determined freedom seeker.
“Thank you, sir.” Amos’s ebony eyes were keenly fixed on Josiah. The man reached for the footwear, held them up, and looked them over. “I’ll surely get to freedom with these.”
Josiah wondered if Amos had ever owned a pair of shoes. A lump formed in his throat.
“Let me see about getting you something to eat.” He stood, strode from the room, and shut the door behind him.
He stormed to where Wilbur stood and said, “That parcel is ready to be shipped. We need to move it today.”
“I know that, but Levi has too many packages to process at the moment. Folks showed up at his house looking for this package in particular, so he sent it here,” Wilbur said. “He’s delivering a wagonload of hay bales to some friends up north sometime soon. He’ll take it then and make sure it’s safely delivered.”
Turning to Sam, Josiah said, “Your house is finished enough. You folks need to move in soon.”
He paced the distance along the counter. He noticed Coral standing by the window, a large spool of thread in her hand, eyes as big as two tin plates. Her silence frightened him. Why hadn’t he thought to make sure the coast was clear before spouting off? Because it angered him to see freedom seekers stuck in limbo while waiting for logistics to get worked out.
“We’ll move in first thing tomorrow,” Sam declared. Josiah watched his friend nod at his wife and daughter.
Coral took slow steps as she moved to the counter and placed her spool of thread on it.
He gulped. She could betray them all, but would she?
She nodded at her parents, determination on her face. Elation washed over Josiah. Glory be! This spunky gal was on their side.
Wilbur cleared his throat and said, “Let me get my ledger so I can tally up your order, Mr. Martin.”
Josiah and Sam discussed the latest issue of William Lloyd Garrison’s The Liberator while Coral and Mrs. Martin finished their shopping. For a few wonderful minutes, a semblance of normalcy returned to the store. Josiah felt his muscles relax.
The bell hanging over the door jangled when Sheriff Hansen strolled inside. A man dressed in a fancy suit, with a fancier cravat, followed him.
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, Wilbur, but this man says he needs to have a word with you.” Hansen leaned against the door, not bothering to make introductions.
Uneasiness gripped Josiah as he watched the man look down every aisle of the store. The aroma wafting from his cigar filled the air. Josiah’s jaw muscles tensed when the scoundrel smiled, tipped his hat, and bowed at Coral and her mother.
“I’m sorry to bother you folks on this fine afternoon, but I’m looking for this here runaway.” He flashed a poster for them all to see.
Nausea churned in Josiah’s gut and the fine hairs on the nape of his neck rose.
The sketch on the poster resembled Amos.