| |
Missy
Missy admired her aunt's skill with the horses. The man who acted as their driver on the ferry ride across the placid waters of the river had left them on their own once the shore was out of sight and they had reached a small inn for the night. He bade them safe travels and handed them a scribbled map that would guide them to the edge of a small town where they would meet up with their fellow travelers. The vista from the top of the carriage gave her an entirely different view from the sheltered one inside. Apple trees, heavy with green and slightly red fruits, lined the road they traveled on. The dappled team shook their heads and seemed to be sniffing the air.
Missy lifted her nose and tried to take in the scent herself. She only smelled the horses that trotted in front of the carriage. "Do you think the farmer would care if we took a few apples for the horses?"
'Tilda laughed. "Not if we take the small ones that have already fallen to the ground. They will be a little tart, but the farmer won't miss them and will probably be glad to bid them good riddance. Are you ready to try your hand at being an apple tree farmer?"
"Only long enough to feed the horses." She sighed. "I hope Early and George still had enough food for today."
"Let's make this quick and put aside a few apples for them in case they're hungry, too." Aunt pulled the horses to a halt, set the brake, and pulled the back of her skirt up through her front waistband. Missy stared. "It will make climbing off this high seat easier. Give it a try."
She followed her aunt's lead and easily climbed down from their perch. She could get used to wearing her dress this way, much easier to maneuver than a full hoop skirt. They filled a small basket with the fruit and fed some to the horses. The animals shook their heads and slobbered their way through several apples.
Missy put her hands on the backside of her waist and looked up to the sky. Picking the fruit had put an ache in her back that she'd never dealt with before. After stretching, she loaded the half-filled basket into the carriage. She tucked a cloth across the top to keep the apples secure and slowly pulled herself back up onto the high seat. It seemed harder to climb a second time. Her cousin Early had mounted the side of the carriage for several weeks now. Surely she could manage half a day of riding the high bench with her aunt.
The un-cushioned seat renewed its torture on her bruised bottom. She willed herself to not squirm or complain. She anxiously studied the map that pointed them closer to the rendezvous point.
"Aunt 'Tilda, I think when we join up again with Early and George, we need to have a plan for an event that separates us."
"I agree." Her aunt slowed the team of horses. "My eyes are a little weak for distances. Does that house have a star on the side of it?"
Missy glanced from the roughly drawn map to the house they neared. "I think we've found the right place. We just have to let them know we are looking for our flock of lost birds."
As they drew nearer a man stepped from the barn. A pronged tool held by his side looked deceptively innocent, but Missy wondered about the pain it could inflict if needed for defense.
"Hello friends, what can I do for you this fine morning?"
Aunt 'Tilda greeted the man with a nod. "We're looking for some missing birds that used to travel with us. We heard they might have flown in your direction sometime this morning." When she said the word birds her voice strengthened, giving the man the clue he needed.
"I suppose I won't need my pitchfork for anything but a little hay today. If you ladies would like to drive your horses over to the barn, I'm sure we can take care of all your needs." He reached for a halter on one horse and led them near the shelter. He released the horses and focused on their care while the ladies clambered down from the carriage. "You might find your missing birds in the last stall."
Aunt thanked the man while Missy ran to find Early. The couple lay slumbering on a bed of hay. Missy sank to the ground and grabbed her cousin's hand.
"I'm so glad to see you again."
Early blinked her eyes and looked at their joined hands before answering. "We had a scary trip last night. I thought it would be the end of our journey at one point." The hay rustled next to her as George stretched. He stood and moved to help the farmer feed their horses.
Missy released her cousin's hand and asked about their journey. Then she noticed someone missing. "Did Isaac make it across the river, too?"
"He did. Once we were here, a man came and offered to lead people north. Isaac chose to leave with them. He didn't want to wait when an opportunity to be off at once arose. George talked about it, but..."
"But you wanted to wait for me." A flood of hope filled Missy's heart. She had missed her cousin.
"I did, in spite of you making George marry me."
"I'm sorry, Early, it seemed like a good idea at the time."
"I forgive you." She paused and looked toward her husband. "It may work out eventually. I do have feelings for the man. I just have to wait until he realizes what a good thing he has." She met her cousin's eyes and they laughed before giving each other a hug.
"I don't want to be separated from you again."
"I don't either, but thanks to what happened, my loyalties are now to my husband and freedom. You have to realize that some day we will have to part ways." Early looked away as she pulled bits of hay from her hair.
"I know, but in the meantime we need to make some plans in case we are separated on this part of our journey." Missy rubbed her hands together and looked at the others.
"That's the best idea we've had all morning." Aunt 'Tilda joined them in the stall. George leaned over the wood surrounding the side of the stall and listened as they shared their thoughts.
Aunt 'Tilda started the conversation. "If we get separated, we should plan on heading back to the last place we stopped. The slave catchers would most likely think we would keep heading north."
"Make sure to stay under the cover of trees. We may have to travel at night." George's hand patted his pocket. "We can always look for the north star."
"If we do need to scatter, we should have a code word." Early glanced at Missy.
Missy's mind sparkled, remembering some of the code words they had used as children. "I taught Early some French this year. We could use the phrase: Run! Tu connais le plan."
George nodded, "That's easy to understand, but it might work. I recognize run and plan."
Aunt 'Tilda lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the young women. "The man we crossed the river with said to ask about being a 'friend of a friend' or to mention something about 'birds in the woods' if we needed help from those who want to aid freedom seekers."
She paused and looked toward the front of the barn where their host worked, far enough away to not overhear them. "It's important that you all remember that we will be following a river north of this place for a few days. The river will take us to a canal road. If we stay on that road, it will lead us directly north for many weeks. When the canal turns eastward, we'll be a few days from my sister Mary Etta's place, in a town called Forest Glen. Ask for directions to Woodson House. Someone will be able to direct you if we get separated for any reason. I've been told the house sits on a hill and has a similar design to the mansion at Holly Plantation."
The others nodded in agreement and shook the hay from their clothing. George headed for the horses.
Missy stepped from the stall, followed by her aunt and cousin. "Let's get back on the road."
George
George welcomed being back in control of the team of geldings. He'd always relished the feeling. Even when slavery controlled almost everything in his life, he knew what to do around horses. He understood how to make them do their job. Most importantly, he knew how to do it without abusing or harming their bodies or wills. The rhythm of their hooves pulsing against the ground brought a sense of comfort and rightness. He sat alone on his high bench, feeling good about the horses but missing his companion.
Early chose to continue her ride in the carriage with her cousin since they'd resumed their trek north. The two young women seemed to have renewed their friendship for now. He wondered how long that would last. He wanted to trust the other two women, but still had moments of doubt. At least the last few days of travel had been peaceful.
He scanned the rolling hills of this Free State of Ohio and whistled a made-up tune. When it came to looks, the land wasn't too much different from what they'd traveled through for most of their journey. The soil held a darker hue, but he'd seen that in Maryland as a child. Rolling hills and farmland suitable for growing food for a single family filled the horizon. The rippling sound of water from the river he followed filled his ears with a peaceful sound.
The farmer who housed them after their Ohio River crossing had given him a wide-brimmed hat that flopped low enough to cover most of his face. From a distance, those tending their fields would have a hard time telling his looks from those of any other man. The fellow had managed to find a ragged pair of gloves for his hands. The long-sleeved shirt covering his arms shielded his body from the slightly cooler temperatures.
He wanted to shout 'I'm on my way to freedom' to the world. Instead, he hid under the cover of another man's clothing and kept their carriage moving in a way that didn't bring any unwanted attention. He thought about praying, but decided to leave that up to the women. He hadn't talked to God as much as he should've since those scheming women had forced him into marriage. He had to admit his affections toward Early grew daily. He hated turning his back on her every evening, but it was for the best. They were not free yet. Once they left this peaceful countryside and started traveling along the canal road, they would never know when some other snake might cross their path
Early
Early perched next to George a few days later. The still waters of the canal lay to the left of their path. Open farmland alternated with forested areas spread out to their right and on the other side of the canal. She told George earlier that she'd grown tired of not seeing the outdoors. She didn't want to admit to his face the full truth. She sure missed being next to him as they enjoyed the scenery along the trail.
A sound drew her attention to some tall bushes along the canal road. The red and green leaves rustled among the plants and then human hands parted the branches. Two men stepped from the foliage with guns pointed at the carriage.
"Stop, slave. Get off the carriage or I'll shoot yer woman."
George pulled the horses to a halt. His hand reached protectively in front of her waist. Early felt his body tighten like a coiled snake, ready to spring. One of the men latched onto a horse's halter and stood in front of them, his gun pointed upward to where they sat.
"Looks like we'll be earning a nice bounty for catching you two runaways." Soiled black teeth appeared in the mouth of the dust-covered man who stood to the side of the road. "Get down and move over here, you two slaves." He kept his gun pointed toward Early and glared triumphantly at George as they made their way down.
Matilda stepped from the carriage, hands on her hips. "These are free people. You need to leave them alone."
"Them's your words against mine, old woman." He leered as Missy joined her aunt.
"We have their emancipation papers." Matilda leaned forward, hands on her hips, and then stepped back, holding her nose.
Early gasped. She hadn't realized the papers Aunt Matilda had stashed in her carpet bag contained their freedom, only the proof that they were slaves. She thought for sure they'd have to keep heading for Canaan Land as runaways.
"Give me them papers, lady."
Aunt Matilda glared at the man. "You'll have to find them yourself."
The man reached into the carriage and pulled out several bags. He kicked Missy's satchel of writing materials out the door. It fell open on its side. Pencils flew from the bag along with her journal. Several papers scattered in the dirt, but nothing official-looking fell from the case. Early's worn quilt flew in the air and fell on the dusty path. When he dumped Aunt 'Tilda's carpet bag, he shoved her money into the breast of his shirt.
"Reckon this is part of my reward. Now show me them papers or I'm going to do some shootin'."
The barrel of his gun wavered between Missy and Early. Aunt huffed and pulled papers from a buttoned flap hidden deep inside a pocket of her carpet bag. The man's breath reeked of onions and sour mash as he snatched the papers from her hand and wadded them into a ball.
"Don't reckon these are the real thing, or 'iffen they was, they're gone now. I can't read much fancy writing so it don't really matter none." He tossed the papers into the canal. Ink bled into the water as hopes of freedom sank into murky depths.
"Now we'll see about trussing these two slaves up and be on our way. I reckon this carriage can take us a piece down the road without any trouble." His partner climbed up to the driver's seat and threw down the rope he had looped through his belt.
"You tie 'em up while I check for any treasures up here on top o' this contraption."
The reek of onions once again reached Early's nose as the mouthy man who'd picked up the rope focused on the couple. His mistake. Aunt took that moment to swing her bag across the back of the man's head.
"Run! Tu connaise le plan." As the man swayed, Matilda grabbed his gun and fired it into the air. The sound caused the horses to gallop off with the other bounty hunter bouncing on top of the carriage.
George didn't run. Early watched in fear as her husband growled and knocked the reeling man to the ground. His fists battered the man's face until he moaned and fell into a stupor. Blood and sweat dripped to the ground.
"Stop! Don't bring yourself down to his level. We need to move on." Early found her voice. "You'll be hunted for more reason than just being a slave if you do any more damage to this—this man."
She watched as George unknotted his fists and stepped away. He looked at his bloodied hands and then stared up to the clouds that stalked across the setting sun. He slid down the bank of the canal and pulled out the soaked remains of the papers.
"What now?" His shoulders slumped as paper pulp slid though his fingers and splattered to the ground. Early's heart broke as she stared at the sodden clump that should have guaranteed their freedom.
"First, we need to get away from this man before he wakes up or his partner comes back. Then we can plan our next steps." Matilda grinned and offered the rope to George.
~~~~~
LATER THAT NIGHT, THEY huddled together in the woods. Early sat stiffly next to George on the blanket her mother had created. She listened to the two women, who had been her allies, chatter about possible ways to continue on their journey. Did they even want to acknowledge the feelings of the other two people who sat with them? George grew more distant as the conversation continued.
Early finally blurted out, "When were you going to tell us you had our emancipation papers? I thought you only had owner's papers."
Matilda looked down. "We made a promise to Melissa's father to keep it a secret until we reached Woodson House. We agreed that it might be safer that way."
Betrayal once again flooded Early's heart. First a forced wedding and now this. "It would have been nice to know you had them. Maybe we could have helped protect the papers. We would have known you held the hope of real freedom in your hands."
Missy reached out her hand and then withdrew it when Early crossed her arms. "It's probably too late now, but you should know that at least I have your papers in my possession. We only lost George's today. When Aunt said 'we' had papers, she didn't tell those awful men that we carried them separately. Papa gave me yours as a gift, but he and Amanda's spending habits forced Aunt Matilda to purchase George. The papers gave us ownership, but we changed them to emancipation papers by signing them over to you during a stay at one of the inns along the way."
Early's head swirled with the information. She stepped away from the others. George followed her into a grove of trees and laid a hand on her shoulder. Tears flowed down her cheeks as determination rose from the depths of her soul. The time had come for a change. She turned into George's embrace and laid her head on his chest.
"Do you think we can make it without them?"
"I'm ready when you are. I've always found it hard to trust anyone but myself."
Her throat tightened. "Do you trust me?"
"More than any other person." His palm held her cheek as he leaned closer and brushed his lips across hers.
She returned his kiss with passion. He pulled her closer. They'd not had a kiss this sweet since the wedding. Early's knees felt weak, and she nearly fell when he stepped away. As he drew back, a look of worry crossed his face. He held her by both shoulders and searched her eyes.
"Then we need to make our own plan. We'll follow the drinking gourd stars to the north. I have something that will help us find our way. Are you up for a long walk without a mistress to boss you around?"
"I believe I am." Her voice shook despite her declaration.
"Are you sure? Missy still has your papers. She can safely set you free if you travel with them. Maybe the trip would be too hard for you."
"I'm your wife, George, and there is nothing you can do about that because I made a marriage vow before God. I want to be with you. I want Missy to turn over my papers now." She turned and marched toward her former mistress.
Missy leaned against a tree and rose to meet them as they stepped closer to where she waited alone. Early stopped in front of her former owner and held out her hand.
"I want my papers."
Missy turned away and pulled out the soft leather pouch that hung from her neck and dangled beneath the chemise under her dress. Early had stitched the bag for Missy but hadn't realized what treasure it hid during their journey.
"I'm sorry, Early—sorry for keeping the papers from you and sorry you were forced to be my slave." Sadness etched her face as tears flowed. She opened the bag and slipped familiar pieces of her mother's broken necklace into her palm before offering Early the pouch filled with papers.
Early's tears joined Missy's as she took the bag and stuffed it beneath her own bodice. "I'm sorry you didn't share everything with me. It's time for both of us to grow up and make our own way in this world." Draping her old quilt across her arm, she turned away from Missy and took George's hand before looking around for their other traveling companion. "Where is Aunt Matilda? I should tell her we are leaving."
"She heard a boat coming and went off to see if we could arrange passages since we no longer have the horses and carriage." Missy's shoulders sank as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I only hope she..."
"I have good news." 'Tilda rounded the bend of the tow path and stepped into their circle, looking pleased. "I found a way for at least the women to travel north on a canal boat. We would have to help with cooking and other chores to pay our way. The wife is soon to deliver a babe and will need me to act as her midwife. Maybe George can travel along the canal road until we near Woodson House."
Early faced the other two women. "I will follow my husband. I trust him to find the way north for us. If we happen to see you again at Woodson House, so be it. Otherwise, we will see you in heaven one day." Her voice trembled as Missy and Aunt 'Tilda wrapped their arms around her.
Missy
Missy turned and waved to her childhood companion. They had never been more than a few floors away from each other and neither knew whether they would ever see each other again. Early's mother had raised them both. All she had for memories of her own mother lay in the broken necklace clutched in her hand. She'd lost them all; two mothers, and now her best friend, whom she might never see again.
Picking up her satchel, she placed the jewelry pieces deep inside the bag. She wondered who had the most freedom in the past and the future. Early would know how to take care of her needs—cleaning, cooking, and doing chores. Missy only knew how to be a lady, to paint and write poetry, but how would that help her in a world where no one met her every whim? Could empty words and embroidered samplers put food on the table, if she even had a table of her own? Perhaps she should have stayed and married the McDonald boy. No—not to watch other people like Early suffer at her expense.
She turned to Matilda, "Auntie, you have much to teach me about how to live, how to be strong on my own." Her entry in her battered journal was brief that evening.
Ginny Interlude
Ginny re-read Missy's words of sadness. What would it be like to grow up in a way where she had to depend on another person for her every need? She'd never had that privilege. When her own father had left her mom and his two children, he hadn't looked back. His untimely death did not provide a chance for him to change his ways, so they'd made do. Mom worked hard to provide for the family. Her creativity had provided for their needs and her love had made the three of them feel like a complete family.
Ginny had learned to help with chores as best a child could. Her mother's mom taught her much about life. She and her brother spent many days at Grandma's house while her single parent went to work-related meetings. Those days were long gone. They'd all adjusted to their new way of life. The only lasting effect seemed to be that both siblings tended to be extremely cautious when it came to dating. As she looked at the story unfolding in the journal, she saw a determined spirit in the young woman's writing, despite the sadness expressed on the pages.
The young mistress's life would be very different from living on a plantation, but she would make it. Her mentoring aunt would help her through any trials she faced. The completed journal provided evidence of her survival. While sadness filled Ginny's thoughts for the helpless young mistress, her concerns quickly wandered to Early's journey. Would the two girls ever reunite, or would some greater danger separate them forever?
She wanted to know more about the young couple's travels on the Underground Railroad. Maybe their trek would be what she needed to focus on for the musical, as it progressed. Their way north had to have been full of conflict and drama. She taught her fourth graders to look for those elements in writing their own stories. She'd also taught them about thoroughly researching their topics. She sorted through her pile of books and pulled out a small booklet written in the late 1800s by William Siebert. People kept most of the information about the Underground Railroad a secret. This author revealed some of the major trails that people followed to freedom, years after those avenues were no longer needed. Sure enough, she spotted the canal path marked as a possible trail north in Siebert's manuscript.
A noise at the front door alerted Jezebel, who howled at her top volume.
"Are you hunting someone? You are one noisy hound. I hope one of your ancestors wasn't a slave catcher's dog." Ginny pushed the hound aside and opened the door for her mother. She wrapped her arms around the woman, wrapped in a festive shawl. "Thank you, Mom, for teaching me how to be an independent woman."
Mom's face showed surprise and then she searched her daughter's face. A few tears dripped from their eyes. "You are welcome, sweetheart. I'm glad you are part of my life, too. Now what brought on this sudden surge of gratitude?"
"I'm just glad you've always been there for me, even when Daddy sailed out of our lives."