Annie arrived back home, exhausted, and planned to go straight to bed, thankful the ordeal of getting Emmeline and Lucy to the ferry was over. But when she saw the solemn looks on both her parents’ faces, she knew something was terribly wrong. Her gaze flew toward her brother, Will, who sat hunched over in a chair beside the fireplace, and when he lifted his haunted gaze to meet hers, she grew even more alarmed.
“What happened?” she asked, going to his side.
“I’ve been pressed into the service of Simon Augustus Cole,” Will spat, his tone bitter.
“He came into the cabinet shop with the sheriff and his men,” her father explained. “They searched every nook and cranny of the building.”
Will nodded. “He even wanted a look inside the sailing skiff I’ve been building in the back. But they didn’t find the fugitives they were looking for.”
Annie gasped. “Emmeline and Lucy?”
“Yes,” her mother whispered, her eyes wide. “Are they safe?”
“They’re on their way across the river,” Annie assured her.
“The sheriff says Cole has the right to demand help from any man he chooses,” her father said, his voice low. “And he chose me, but when I told him I couldn’t mount a horse with my gimpy leg…”
Annie glanced back at her brother. “He took Will.”
“I have to help him round up runaway slaves until he and his men take them back to Georgia at the end of the month,” Will informed her.
“That’s not fair,” Annie protested. “You should be given a choice.”
“I was,” Will sneered. “Help Cole or go to jail.”
“That’s blackmail,” Annie exclaimed.
Her father scowled. “Unfortunately, it’s the law.”
“Rumors have spread that Mr. Cole isn’t just after slaves,” her mother added. “He’s determined to catch all those who help them.”
Without assistance from the abolitionists, what would happen to the Southern fugitives who needed them, like Kitch, Emmeline, and Lucy? How would they make the journey north on their own?
While Annie was happy to see their short-term guests escape, she was also sorry that they had to travel so far to reach freedom. Would she ever see them again? Would there ever be a time when they could stay in Jersey City and not fear getting sent back south?
Annie looked at her father. “What shall we do? Stop helping the people who come to our door?”
“No,” her mother said determinedly. “We just won’t tell Will. It will be safer for him—and us—if he can honestly say in good conscience that he doesn’t know where any fugitives are hiding.”
“I won’t come into the house without calling out and giving you fair notice,” Will told her. “And if, perchance, you have someone with you, whom you don’t want me to see, you must do the same, so there is no interaction between us.”
A wave of sorrow flooded over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She and Will had never been on opposite sides before. They’d always been a team, working together. Now this horrid slave catcher, with his dominating authority, had managed to drive a wedge between them.
While she, Louisa, and Isaiah worked to help the slaves escape north, Will would be working with Simon Cole to return them to the South.
After Isaiah finished his evening shift aboard the ferry, he trudged slowly back to the livery. Surprised to find half the wagons and carriages missing from the interior of the building, he went in search of his brother and asked optimistically, “Did we have a good day of business?”
“Not in the way you’d hope,” Tom answered. “No leases, but about a half dozen sales. The good news is that I got a good price for them. Although still not enough to pay the entire fine.”
The fine for harboring the runaway slaves.
“This is my fault,” Isaiah said, leaning against one of the remaining wagons. “If I hadn’t antagonized that red-faced little man—”
“We don’t know for sure if Mr. Felding is the one who squealed,” Tom said, taking a harness off a nearby bench and hanging it up on a hook along the wall.
“He said if we were hiding any slaves, he’d shut us down.” Isaiah clenched his fist. “I think he must have been spying on us. If I hadn’t been working on the ferries, I could have kept better watch.”
“Your work on the ferry brings in extra money,” Tom reminded him. “And helps those who need a free passage to the promised land.”
“Not anymore,” Isaiah said, and cringed. “I got fired.”
“What?” Tom exclaimed, his eyes widening.
“The ferry had a new captain tonight,” Isaiah said, and blew out a frustrated breath. “He caught me hiding Annie Morrison’s cargo in the back hatch. He feigned indifference, but when we returned to the wharf at Jersey City, the new slave catcher, Simon Augustus Cole, and the sheriff were waiting for us. They insisted on searching the boat.”
Tom frowned. “But your cargo had been dropped off on the opposite shore.”
“Yes, but they rattled the captain pretty hard. And after they left, the captain said he feared he wouldn’t be needing me anymore.”
“No doubt with less income, we’ll have to tighten our belts,” Tom said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But we’ll manage. I’ll tell Henrietta to add more broth to her chicken-noodle soup to make it stretch further.”
“I’ll get another job,” Isaiah promised.
“We’ll also need another way to transport the runaways across the water,” Tom said, furrowing his brows. “Another boat.”
Isaiah nodded. “I’ve already spoken to a fisherman who has agreed to help. Not everyone is on Cole’s side.”
Tom gave him a good-natured slap on the shoulder and grinned. “Praise God for that, eh?”