The following Sunday, Annalise again attended Ridge Gap Bible Church. After a month of listening to Pastor Sorenson’s sermons, she found herself digging deeper into God’s Word and full of gratitude that Uncle Phineas and Aunt Lavinia allowed her to continue attending the church.
She had also exchanged pleasantries with some of the other folks at the church. Perhaps they would accept her, even if she was not at all like them. For they had the most important thing in common—Jesus.
Without hesitation, Annalise had become friends with Betsy Woods, Reverend Sorenson’s sister.
One afternoon after church services, Annalise wandered outside, waiting for Nehemiah to retrieve her. She scanned the road. Where was Nehemiah? Of course, with her aunt and uncle deciding not to attend church today, Annalise could have been forgotten.
She returned inside and heard soft voices.
“The Faith Train will be leaving again in two days.” Reverend Sorenson’s voice.
The Faith Train?
“We still need more clothes for the runaways. Betsy, do you have enough fabric to sew three pairs of trousers and three shirts?”
Runaways? As in runaway slaves?
“I do. That’s a lot to sew in such little time.”
“Perhaps one of the ladies from church could join you in sewing. You could mention that the clothes are for the less fortunate in our community,” suggested Reverend Sorenson. “That is the truth,” he added.
“Indeed,” answered Betsy, “I have just the person in mind. Annalise Van Houten has considerable experience in sewing from her boarding school days. I can tell her it’s for the less fortunate, and I am sure she would be willing to assist.”
Me?
Annalise sucked in her breath and willed her heart not to pound loudly enough for the others to hear. Why would they be speaking of such delicate matters as runaway slaves? Could they not get caught and hanged if someone other than me had crept back into the church?
“You must be sure not to tell her who will be the true recipients of the clothes,” said Reverend Sorenson. “We don’t know if we can trust her. She is Phineas Thorn’s niece after all.”
Why could you not trust me? Annalise shoved the pang of disappointment aside. I certainly did not ask to be Uncle Phineas’s niece.
“I’ll not let on,” answered Betsy.
Lord, please don’t let them hear me….
Annalise tiptoed her way to the door and pushed it open. She stepped into the sunlight once more. Had she really just heard a conversation about runaway slaves?
Nehemiah arrived then and escorted Annalise into the carriage. Two things were for certain: More than anything, Annalise wanted to be part of the Faith Train and aid the slaves. And for some reason, she desired Reverend Sorenson to know he could trust her. Even with such a sensitive matter.
“I never imagined I would use the skills I acquired at the boarding school to sew clothing items for the less fortunate,” said Annalise. She and Betsy had spent the morning stitching trousers and shirts.
Would her new friend someday tell Annalise the truth of who would wear these clothes? That they were likely so the slaves had a change of clothes for their first days of freedom?
Betsy giggled, interrupting Annalise’s ponderings. “Nor had I imagined that I would be sewing at all, given that I abhorred such a task until I was married and had no other choice.”
The sewing circle was the one place that Aunt Lavinia allowed Annalise to frequent besides church. In Aunt Lavinia’s mind, the sewing circle furthered Annalise’s chances of marriage in the near future by advancing her sewing skills. Annalise would take any opportunity that presented itself to be free of the strict confinement of the Thorn Plantation.
And help the “less fortunate” at the same time.
She hadn’t admitted that the sewing circle contained only her and Betsy.
“I am thrilled you accepted my invitation,” said Betsy. “It has been delightful getting to know you through church.”
“And you as well.” Not to mention finding out tidbits about your older brother.
But although Reverend Sorenson was a handsome man who obviously loved the Lord, one thing was clear. He did not trust Annalise or her intentions.
Never had she been more thrilled to be a part of a plan to free those so wrongly held in captivity. Mother and Father would be proud. Although they owned slaves, they never treated them the way Uncle Phineas, Aunt Lavinia, and their friends did. Annalise had prayed long and hard that the Lord Almighty would show her a way to make a difference.
And show her, He had.
A noise interrupted the women’s comfortable camaraderie and conversation. Annalise peered out the window at the wagon that had just arrived.
“It appears Matthias and Adam are here for the midday meal.” Betsy placed her stitching on the table.
“May I help you prepare the meal?”
“Certainly.”
Grateful that Betsy never judged her because of her privileged circumstances and the fact that Annalise had never prepared a meal in her life, Annalise rose to assist her friend.
Reverend Sorenson entered the room while Mr. Woods remained in the wagon. “Betsy, Miss Van Houten.”
Was it Annalise’s imagination, or did his startling warm gray eyes hold her gaze for a tenth of a second?
“Reverend.”
Reverend Sorenson turned his attention to Betsy. “Reckon we are behind on the delivery, so Adam and I will have to take the food and eat it on the road.”
“Give me just a moment, Matthias, and I will have it ready.”
Annalise stared out the window. Why had Mr. Woods not entered the house with Reverend Sorenson? Why had he remained in the wagon, swiveling his head about as if on the lookout for something or someone?
A slight movement in the back of the wagon caught Annalise’s eye. She fixated upon the canvas tarp covering the goods to be hauled to the next town. Annalise moved closer to the window and leaned her head toward the glass. Was an animal in the back of the wagon? Something moved again, an ever so slight ripple under the tarp.
“Miss Van Houten?”
Reverend Sorenson’s voice interrupted her investigation. Without taking her eyes from the tarp, she answered a simple, “Yes, Reverend?”
“What is it you are staring at?”
“I seem to detect some movement in the back of your wagon.” She returned her focus to him.
His brows knit together in concern. “A movement, you say?”
“Yes. There it is again.”
Just then, a dark head came from under the tarp. Annalise saw the full features of a man. Mr. Woods abruptly turned and said something to the man, and the man again hid beneath the tarp.
“Reverend, did you know there’s a man in the back of your wagon?”
Reverend Sorenson squinted out the window.
“And Mr. Woods just spoke with him.”
Betsy and Reverend Sorenson shared a knowing glance and the reverend shook his head, as if answering an unspoken question.
“Here’s the meal, Matthias. Have a safe trip.” Betsy excused herself and rushed to the side of the wagon. Mr. Woods planted a hurried kiss on his wife’s waiting lips.
“Miss Van Houten, I reckon you won’t repeat anything about possibly seeing something in the back of the wagon. Do I have your word?”
Possibly seeing? My eyes certainly did not deceive me.
Was it more of a request or a demand? Annalise had never heard Reverend Sorenson take on such a somber tone. Even when he spoke of serious matters in his sermons.
“I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“You will put countless lives at risk if you mention anything you have seen or imagined that you saw.”
“I certainly didn’t imagine seeing anything. I did, however, see a man poking his head up from under the tarp. A slave to be exact.”
Reverend Sorenson appeared to be pondering his next words. He took a deep breath. “I pray you say nothing of what you saw here today, Miss Van Houten.”
Who would she tell? It wasn’t as though she had many friends in Ridge Gap, and she rarely spoke of anything of real importance to Uncle Phineas or Aunt Lavinia. “Why are you transporting a slave?”
“Sometimes the Lord calls us to save a life. It is my prayer that you don’t jeopardize that.”
“Reverend Sorenson, I know about the Faith Train. I overheard you, Betsy, and Mr. Woods speaking of it. But believe me, I won’t breathe a word to anyone. I’ve also figured out that the clothes I am sewing are for the runaways. Am I correct?”
Reverend Sorenson’s concern was apparent in his troubled features. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Rest assured, Reverend, you can trust me. I like slavery no more than you do.”
“How can that be when your uncle owns more slaves than anyone in the area?”
The insinuation caused Annalise distress, and her face reddened. “I am aware of my uncle Phineas and his wicked ways, and I assure you that I am nothing like him.”
“Bets never should have allowed you to sew clothes with her today.”
Annalise prayed she could tamp down the anger that rose within her. “Why ever not?”
“Because if she hadn’t, you would not have seen the cargo. We should never have been so careless.”
“Reverend Sorenson, please believe that I will not tell a soul about the cargo.”
His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. He leaned closer and looked Annalise directly in the eye. “I must be able to trust you.”
Annalise wasted not a moment in her response. “You can.”
Reverend Sorenson eyed her with apparent mistrust before hurrying to the wagon. Within minutes, he and Mr. Woods traveled out of sight.
Leaving Annalise to wonder if the reverend believed a word she had promised.
Less than an hour later, barking dogs interrupted Annalise’s focused attention on her sewing. She and Betsy were nearly finished for the day, and Nehemiah would be arriving any moment to retrieve her. Betsy hadn’t spoken a word about the slave or about the “delivery.”
And Annalise hadn’t asked.
Her mind still pondered Reverend Sorenson’s words. He didn’t trust Annalise, and oh how she wanted to earn his trust.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Betsy. “Try not to speak much. These men are rather abrupt and awful in their accusations.”
“What men?”
Before Betsy could answer, two men on horseback with dogs yapping at their heels stopped at the house and pounded on the door.
Betsy’s nervous demeanor from just seconds before switched into a relaxed and calm disposition. Holding herself with considerable poise, she stood and opened the front door. “May I help you?”
“Yah,” scowled the first man. “We’re bounty hunters lookin’ for a runaway slave.”
The other man nodded but said nothing. Instead, he perused the room.
“The slave is about yay high,” the first man said, holding his hand in the air above his own head to indicate the height of the slave. “Large nose, missing a front tooth. Have you seen him?”
“I have not. My friend here and I have been sewing all morning, and it’s been rather quiet.”
“How ’bout we come in?” Without awaiting Betsy’s answer, the two men forced their way into the house, nearly toppling Betsy off her feet.
“My husband and brother will be returning soon.” Betsy fetched the rifle from its place.
“No need for weapons, ma’am. We’re just lookin’ for a fugitive slave is all.”
“I’ve told you I haven’t seen him.” Betsy kept the rifle trained on the men, and Annalise had no doubt her friend would use it.
Annalise’s heart raced. The men could mean them harm, and no one would hear their cries for help.
“Have you seen any slaves?” the man asked, coming a little too close to Annalise. The foul odor on his breath combined with dank body odor nearly made her vomit.
Lord, please make my voice calm. “I have not. But I will keep my eyes open for such a person.”
“You sure neither of you ain’t seen him? A farmer down the road told us he saw the slave come this way. There’s a hefty reward for him.”
“We have not seen him,” said Annalise, grateful that her voice did not quiver.
“If you do see him, be sure to let us know. We’ll be stoppin’ back by this evenin’ or tomorra mornin’.”
“We will do that,” answered Betsy.
The men and their dogs retreated, leaving Annalise quite sure her legs might topple right out from underneath her. “What a frightening experience.”
“Yes, it was.”
“I take it those men have come here before?”
“Never when Adam and Matthias weren’t here, until today.”
“Betsy, please answer me honestly: Are you, your husband, and Reverend Sorenson a part of the Faith Train?”
Betsy offered a stoic expression.
“Reverend Sorenson doesn’t trust me not to tell anyone. I would never do that, Betsy. Never would I put lives at stake.”
Betsy sighed. “I know you wouldn’t, Annalise. You proved that today.”
Now if only Annalise could persuade Reverend Sorenson to believe her.