The Telegram

The train whistle blew twice. Patrick left the platform and entered the train car. Conductor Morehead was inside. Lincoln was already relaxed in his seat, blanket on, hat off.

Patrick went to the seat with his cloak draped over the back.

The conductor turned to Wood. “I have a telegram for you,” Morehead said. “Two came in at Westfield.” He handed Wood a piece of paper.

Wood read the message out loud, “‘BR Ferry watched. On horseback HJ.’” Wood was silent for a few seconds. “Hmm,” he said, “That doesn’t make any sense.” He studied the paper. “It was sent from the Erie depot,” he said.

The conductor looked at another paper. “My mistake, sir,” he said. “That one is for a reporter. This one is for you.”

The conductor and Wood exchanged papers.

Wood scanned the new telegram. “Another message from the New York governor,” he said. “Mrs. Lincoln will be given a carriage for her and the children. It will be waiting at the depot.”

Willie nudged Patrick. The boys stepped away from the men and toward the stove. “Do you think the first telegram from HJ could mean Holman Jones?” Willie whispered. “But who is BR?”

“Not who. What is BR,” Patrick said. He pulled the extra ticket from his pocket. “This is a one-way ticket to Canada. It’s on the Black Rock Ferry for tonight. That must be the BR Ferry.”

“How did Holman Jones know about the ferry?” Willie asked.

Patrick said, “I’ll bet that Hal Ross told Jones through a telegram. He wants part of the reward, the fifty silver pieces.”

Willie said, “Does ‘on horseback’ mean Mr. Jones is following the train?”

That thought made Patrick feel cold with dread. “That makes sense,” he said. “Jones can probably catch up easily. This train stops so many times.”

Wood called to them. “Willie and Patrick,” he said, “go tell Mrs. Lincoln about the carriage. And stay in there. We men are going to talk politics.”

“Yes, sir,” Patrick said. He picked up his cloak and put it on.

“Fine with me,” Willie said. “I’m more a man of action than words.”

Mr. Lincoln gave a hearty laugh.

Mrs. Lincoln napped with Tad on the lower bunk bed. The four older children had to be quiet. They sat near one another in a cluster of seats.

The train stopped in Dunkirk and Silver Creek, New York. But none of them went out on the platform with President-elect Lincoln. Not even Willie.

After the second stop, Beth asked Sally, “Why did you run away?”

“I was a house slave for a rich Kentucky plantation owner. His name was Benjamin Culver,” she said. “Once Mr. Lincoln got elected, many states left the Union. But Kentucky didn’t.”

Sally sighed. Then she said, “Master Culver feared the slave laws would change in our state. So he decided to send all his slaves to his brother’s plantation. His brother lives in South Carolina.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Beth said.

“I would be a field worker in South Carolina,” Sally said. “I didn’t want to go farther south. Kentucky is right on the border between the North and the South. It’s much closer to Canada. So I ran.”

Patrick told them about the telegram from Jones. He said, “You can’t take the ferry across to Canada. Holman Jones will be watching. He’s probably riding straight to Buffalo on horseback.”

Beth asked, “What will you do when we get to Buffalo?”

“It’s a secret,” Sally said. “I’ll have to find out from the next conductor. He’s at the American Hotel. He’s a cook named Murray who is a freed slave. That’s all I know.”

The train whistle blew one long toot. The brakes squealed.

Willie looked out the window. “It’s mobbed,” he said. “It’s ten times the people that have been at other stops.”

Mrs. Lincoln rose from the bunk. She picked up a small handbag with beads on it. “Everyone grab your cloaks,” she said. “A carriage will take us to the American Hotel.”

Sally gasped. “Me too?” she asked.

Mrs. Lincoln said, “Of course. Now hurry up. You may take the blue cloak. Keep the hood over your face in public. Others may want to collect Mr. Jones’s reward.”

The children got ready to leave. They waited near the door to the connecting platform. Conductor Morehead was there to help them.

Two railroad men helped Mrs. Lincoln and Sally into the carriage first. Next Tad, and then Willie.

When Beth got to the platform, she could see the crowds behind her. They reminded her of bees in a beehive she had once seen. The worker bees had been trying to get to the queen. But now instead of buzzing, these bees were shouting at one another.

“Quit shoving!” they said. “Where’s Lincoln? Has anyone seen him?” and “If you step on my foot again, I’ll wallop you.”

Beth could now see the carriage. It had two white horses harnessed to the front.

Conductor Morehead helped her into it. “Don’t slip,” he said. “There’s mud everywhere. It snowed yesterday, but it melted this morning.”

Beth sat next to Sally. Both girls pulled their cloaks around them to keep away the winter chill.

Patrick jumped in the carriage by himself and sat down. His movement rocked the vehicle. Beth heard the horses stamp their hooves. One of them whinnied.

The carriage driver snapped the harness reins.

Beth felt Sally shudder. The sound probably reminded her of the slave catcher’s whip.

“Don’t worry,” Beth said. “Jones is gone.”

The driver snapped the reins again. The horses moved away from the train.

Beth looked back at the Lincoln Special. She could see a red-haired man looking out the window. He was watching them leave in the carriage. It was the reporter Hal Ross.