June 1859
Will’s stomach tightened. He had not been feeling well the last few days. He had survived his first two exhibitions with the Rifles, but today was special. Jenny would be watching, and had invited him to her uncle’s after the show. Will had gone buggy riding with her twice, and started meeting her after university classes ended for the day. He enjoyed her wit and sense of humor. He tried not to show it, but he could feel himself attracted to her. She showed a surprising knowledge of horses for a girl. Today he was supposed to lead his squad in the load and fire drill. His uniform itched. He feared soiling it by throwing up. He was determined not to miss today’s exhibition. Their captain, John Morgan, would also be there to review the troops. As he turned the corner, carrying his rifle and walking toward the university grounds, he almost bumped into Joe Breckenridge.
“Hey, Will! Good to see you,” said Joe, extending a hand. “Haven’t run into you much since our last hunting expedition.”
“Oh, hello, Joe! I guess since we don’t have school together in the summer, I just haven’t run into you. I’m still working at the store and the farm.”
“And the uniform tells me you’re doing something else as well.”
“Yes, Captain Morgan asked me to join the Lexington Rifles. I’m going to the university grounds to put on a show now. Why don’t you come?”
Joe thought hard. “All right, I’ll come and watch—but as far as I know, Morgan’s group is pro-slavery. You might want to think about what you’re getting involved in there.”
“Captain Morgan is for Kentucky and believes each state has the right to determine its own destiny. Anyway, this is mostly for show.”
The boys fell into step together and in just a few minutes arrived at the parade ground, where people were already gathering, and there were twenty or thirty other green uniforms. Will was cursing himself for inviting Joe now, since there would be one more familiar person to witness if he failed. He excused himself and quickly found the privy at the edge of the field. Emerging, he felt queasy but slightly more solid on his feet. As he walked over to take his place, he spied Jenny standing by the rail and waved at her, receiving a smile and wave in return. His heart fluttered, but he told himself to concentrate on the task ahead. He reached his squad.
Lieutenant West bellowed, “Company, attention!”
Will fell into his spot along with all the others, making a perfect line.
“Order arms! Shoulder arms! Company, march!”
Will marched with the others, but again his stomach lurched, and he tried not to stumble, to keep in step. The commands came faster, and some of the moves became more complicated. Morgan often told them that cavalry sometimes had to function as infantry, and they should know how to do it. They might not look crisp and smart on the battlefield, but they had learned to obey quickly and without question. As his squad wheeled and passed Ben Drake’s, he almost did not notice a foot stuck out to trip him. At the last second he gave a decidedly unmilitary jump to avoid the foot, earning a rebuke from the sergeant, but not loud enough for everyone to hear. After what seemed an eternity, he heard the commands, “Halt! Present arms! Parade rest!” Now was his moment.
“Company C! Support arms! Shoulder arms! March!”
Will led his group forward, four abreast. Morgan chose his group because they now all had muskets or rifles.
“Halt! Prepare to load!”
As the commands came, Will was to be the first in his line to load, ram, and prime his rifle. The others would follow his lead within a fraction of a second. It would appear simultaneous to those watching, if done correctly. They loaded patch and powder but no actual bullet, to avoid shooting spectators. Will’s hand shook a little while pouring the powder, spilled some, but managed it in the required time. He knelt to fire as the line behind him started their loading process. He felt his stomach wobble and barely avoided vomiting and dropping the rifle as it fired.
After the exhibition concluded, and his company dismissed, he shakily walked toward the sidelines. He could feel the heat of fever. Jenny came over with her uncle, Dr. Simpson. Joe Breckenridge and Archie Moodie, a member of Will’s company, approached from the other side.
Archie spoke first. “Good recovery there, Crump! I saw what Drake was trying to do. You outsmarted him. You’re a credit to the Rifles!” He clapped Will on the shoulder, making him stumble a little. “Say, Crump—are you not well?”
“J—j –just a little queasy, I guess.”
Jenny reached out and touched his forehead. “Why, Uncle Tim, he’s burning with fever!”
Dr. Simpson examined him briefly. “Joe, Archie, please help me get him to the buggy. Archie, will you take his rifle?”
“Sure, Dr. Simpson. Let’s go, Joe.”
Each put one of Will’s arms over his shoulders and guided him to the buggy, with Dr. Simpson and Jenny following. Once he was in, Will suddenly sat up and said, “Albinia! I’m supposed to pick up Albinia!”
“Shh! Lie back. We’ll see to your sister,” said Dr. Simpson. “Can either of you boys go over to the livery, get his ox team, and pick up his sister at the dress shop?”
“I’d surely like to help, but I got to get home to help my pa,” said Archie.
“I’ll go,” said Joe. “It’s not that far from the church, I can let my pa know.”
“Good,” said Dr. Simpson. “I’ll come out and pick you up in the morning.”
“And I’ll come too, if Uncle will let me?” said Jenny imploringly.
“Of course, my dear,” said Dr. Simpson.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia locked the dress shop and dropped the key into her reticule. She turned and scanned the street, and saw in the distance a wagon with oxen approaching. She assumed it might be Will, amid the bustling horse and foot traffic. As the wagon drew closer, she recognized with a start that her brother was not driving.
“Miss Crump, your brother sends his apologies, but he is not well. Dr. Simpson has seen to him, and if you accept, I am to escort you home,” said Joe, climbing down from the wagon.
“Mr. Breckinridge, isn’t it? The parson’s son?” asked Albinia.
“Yes, ma’am. At your service.”
“Under the circumstances, I appreciate your assistance. What’s wrong with Will?” she asked worriedly.
“I’m not entirely sure, ma’am. He was at the exhibition with the Rifles. Afterwards, he just suddenly took ill, fever and all. Doctor took him home.”
“Then please take me there as well, as soon as may be.”
Albinia accepted his help into the wagon, noticing his curly hair and courtly manners. She had seen him at church, of course, but never had any occasion to converse. She could not help comparing him with David Horner. David was so intense, but this young man seemed reserved and polite, with just a hint of humor and mischief in his gray eyes. She knew he was Will’s friend but little else about him. She settled herself in the wagon and watched as Joe expertly guided the oxen through the busy streets. In the gathering twilight, people hurried home to their suppers. Joe took a route she usually avoided, past the Cheapside slave auction block, deserted this time of day. There was a stench from the nearby slave pens, where men, women, and children sat in shackles, staring vacantly into the evening. As they turned onto Broadway, moving toward the Versailles Road, Albinia saw a movement in the alley. Three or four Negroes walked into the alley from the road. The last one nervously turned and looked back, eyes growing wide as he recognized Albinia. It was Luther.
Albinia hesitated and then told Joe, “Stop the wagon!”
Without waiting for help, she jumped down and headed toward the alley. She heard Luther tell the others to run, as he turned back to face her.
“Luther! What are you doing here? You’ll be picked up as a runaway!”
“Please, Miss Albinia, just get back on that wagon! Don’t draw attention to us! They after us, and we got to get away!” pleaded Luther.
“You’ll never make it! Don’t you know you’re right near the slave market now? Any one of those drivers could see you and pick you up! You’re in great danger!”
“I know it, Miss Albinia. But the dawgs won’t find us among all these other slaves. But my momma just cain’t go back to that man! I got no time to explain, and I got to try! Please, just leave me be! Pretend you never saw me!”
Albinia was frightened, and torn. Suddenly, she made up her mind.
“Come get in the back of the wagon, under the hay and the tarps. I know someone who can help you. If there are dogs tracking, they’ll never find your scent if you’re riding in the wagon. Bring the others. Hurry!”
Fear, anger, mistrust, and hesitation crossed Luther’s face and eyes. Luther quickly decided.
“Momma! Livia! Bring Clara and come. I know dis lady, she gwine to help us,” said Luther.
“But Luther, you heard Jackson, not to trust…,” said Jemima.
“Ain’t no time to argue. Those dogs, we ain’t got rid of ‘em yet, I reckon. Come!” urged Luther.
And with that, they all came. Joe’s eyes got big as they emerged from the shadows, and he started to protest. Albinia shushed him, abandoning propriety.
“Joe, I know Luther. He wouldn’t do this without a good reason. You don’t have to be part of it. Luther can drive the oxen, and if he’s with me, we won’t be questioned. I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself. Thank you for what you’ve done and being a good friend to Will. But now you need to go,” she said firmly.
“No. I’ll stay. Get them in the wagon and tell me where to go.”
Albinia was frustrated and afraid, but there was no time to argue. She helped Luther and the others into the back of the wagon with the hay and covered them with canvas, working quickly. Albinia got David’s card out of her reticule, and by lamplight read the address to Joe.
“Don’t hurry the oxen, Joe. We want to look normal, just heading home after picking up supplies. When we get there, put the wagon in the back in the alley. I’ll go find David, and he’ll tell us what to do next.”
Darkness fell over them like a heavy cloak. Joe’s hand shook as he lit the lantern on the front of the wagon, and remounted. Albinia knew he was afraid but he had decided to stay, against her urging. The streets were clearing out. People were in the homes. The slave patrols might come through, but wouldn’t check a wagon with two white people in town before curfew. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry. What if David wasn’t home? What if a patrol came by as Luther got out of the wagon? What if David didn’t want them, or didn’t know a place for them to go? If caught, she and Joe would go to jail. She didn’t want to think about what would happen to Luther and his family. Under her breath, she started praying, praying for God to shield them from prying eyes. The oxen seemed to move in slow motion, and any moment she expected to hear the harsh laughter and challenge of a patrol.
After what seemed an eternity, but was really only about fifteen minutes, Joe pulled the wagon into an alley. Albinia whispered to Luther to keep still and be quiet. Joe helped her down and waited with the oxen. She went up the back stairs of the building and saw the light of an oil lamp through the window. She knocked on the door, tentatively, then louder. At length she heard footsteps, and the door opened to reveal David, looking sleepy and haggard.
“Miss Crump?” David looked confused and surprised. “What brings you here? And at this hour?”
“Mr. Horner, I apologize. I didn’t know who else to turn to. I ... I ... have some friends, with me. Negro friends. Runaways, I think. I need help,” she stammered. “B ... But if you won’t help me, I’ll take them anyway. Will you help?”
David looked first surprised, then grimly amused. “You’ve taken a great risk coming here. For all of us.”
Disappointed, she said, “All right then. If you won’t help, sorry to bother you. I thought that after the other night….” She turned to go.
“Just a moment, Miss Crump. I did not say I wouldn’t help you. This is not the ordinary way of doing things. Anyone might see you here. Come in quickly, while I make ready.”
Too frightened to protest about impropriety, she let herself be ushered into a small parlor, simply but elegantly furnished. A small Chippendale slant desk and chair were against the wall, with the single oil lamp on it. Papers were strewn across it, as though she had interrupted him in the midst of correspondence. A red trimmed rug, slightly threadbare, was in the center of the floor, and two side chairs in the corners.
David disappeared without a word into a room, and she waited nervously. When he emerged, she barely recognized him. He wore a battered straw hat, overalls, and a flannel shirt. A gray wig poked out from the straw hat, and smoke curled up from a corncob pipe. The glasses were gone. His green eyes sparkled with laughter at her astonishment. She noticed he wore a holster with a cartridge belt. The holster had a long barreled revolver in it, and he carried a double-barreled shotgun, and a jug.
“Evnin’ ma’am! Allow me to introduce meself. Edwin Stoddard at your service,” he said in an Irish brogue with a mock bow. Then seriously, he continued in his normal voice, “If you’re going to do this, learn to disguise yourself. Never be someone recognizable. Come, we haven’t much time.”
She followed him obediently back to the wagon below, still too astounded to say much. She finally spoke up and wanted to introduce Joe, but David stopped her.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s best I don’t know your name, sir. You’ve obviously been assisting Miss Albinia, as any gentleman would do. However, I strongly suggest that you leave. Walk or if you must, take the bay horse from that shed just over there,” David said pointing. “Go a different way than you came, and Godspeed. There’s no need for you to take further risks. Quite frankly, where we are going is not a place that you should know about.”
Joe looked conflicted. “I’ve come this far. What do you think, Albinia?”
She flashed him a special smile. “Joe, I think you’ve already done far more than could be expected. This was not just a simple ride home you’ve given me. Please, do as our farmer friend here says,” she said, glancing sideways at David. “I’ve already endangered you enough. Please.”
Joe helped her into the wagon and then said, “All right then. May I come and see you and Will soon?”
Albinia was in a hurry to be off, and her head muddled. She wasn’t thinking about the import of these words. “Of course. Come soon. I know Will would want to see you. And thank you!”
Joe walked off into the gloom, further down the alley. Albinia watched David mount the wagon and lay the shotgun across his lap, barrels pointed away from her. As the oxen started off, he quietly asked Albinia, “How many do we have?”
“Just Luther, his mother, and two sisters. The mother and sisters belong to Jameson. Luther is Miss Lucy Clay’s personal slave.”
David groaned softly, then said, “Lord have mercy. The Clays have some of the finest dogs, and the money to hire slave catchers.” When they were passing buildings on the street with no one about, he quietly addressed Luther.
“Luther, you’ve started something very dangerous. Not only your life but mine, Albinia’s, and everyone you meet is at risk. If you hope to reach freedom, you must be as silent as a grave back there. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Breathe quietly. No matter what happens you must be silent, and you must follow my orders. I mean you no harm, and I will do my best to save you.”
The oxen moved along, their shoes clopping along the hard earth of the street. Albinia saw that David turned northeast, along the Paris road. When they were nearing the outskirts of town, he spoke again.
“Can you act drunk?” he said.
“What! No, I never had a drink in my life!” said Albinia indignantly.
“Well, this may be the time to start,” said David, handing her the jug. “If we’re stopped by a patrol, you should act as ridiculous as possible without dragging it out. Drink some of this, just to give your breath the smell. Then follow my lead and let acting do the rest. I won’t let anyone hurt you, but it’s best if you’re not anything like yourself. In the dark, they may take you for a trollop—let them. Just don’t get down from the wagon for any reason if they stop us. If I have to start shooting, get down as low as you can and stay there.”
Frightened, Albinia took a few sips from the jug. The unaccustomed liquor burned her throat and she coughed, handing it back to him. The moon began to rise above the trees. Stars began to be visible. The wagon jarred and bumped along the Paris road. Albinia tried to see in the dark, glancing nervously along each side of the road, expecting at any moment for a patrol to pop out from the bushes. Her nerves stretched tight.
After some time, David turned off into a small clearing. He began to get down. “Stay here,” he said, handing her the revolver. “I hope you don’t have to use it, but don’t hesitate if there’s trouble. Run toward town, staying off the road. Don’t wait or think about anyone else. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He took the lantern. She clutched the revolver in fear, not really knowing what to do with it. She watched as the lantern grew further away, and then appeared to climb a small hill. The clouds passed in front of the moon. Around her, it was utterly dark. In the distance, she heard the baying of hounds briefly. Then it stopped. She heard the boards in the wagon creak as one of Luther’s family shifted position. She jumped at every cricket, every owl hooting. After a few minutes, she heard a nightingale. Then the lantern waved back and forth at the top of the hill. A few more minutes passed and she heard the call of a whippoorwill, followed by crunching feet as David emerged from the gloom with the lantern.
“It’s clear ahead, tonight,” he said. He clambered into the wagon, took the reins and the revolver, and again put the shotgun on his lap. Urging the oxen forward, in a few minutes they came to a stone church off the road to the right, just as the moon came out from behind the clouds. A small sign proclaimed it was Hopewell Presbyterian. David drove the oxen around to the rear of the church and dismounted. He knocked in a pattern she couldn’t figure out on the bulkhead doors of the church basement. The doors quickly opened.
“Get them in quickly!” said a gray-haired, bespectacled figure. “I don’t know how long we have. Any pursuit?”
“None that I know about now. But one of these belongs to the Clays, so they’ll be looking.”
David walked to the rear of the wagon, lowered the tailgate, and pulled out the tarp.
“Quickly, in the church! Don’t ask questions, just do it,” said David.
Luther and Olivia looked at each other doubtfully, but Jemima urged them. “We here now. Do as dey say. We got to trust de Lawd.”
They passed into the church basement. The bulkhead doors shut. Albinia felt uneasy. Did she really trust the man at the church? David seemed to, so she supposed she had to as well.
David and Albinia drove back to town without incident. She asked him to drop the wagon at the livery and her at the dress shop. She would change and go to Katy’s house for the night. In the morning, she would find Jenny and Dr. Simpson.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia located Dr. Simpson and told him that an ox had thrown a shoe. She explained that this made Joe obliged to turn around, and she spent the night in town. They took Dr. Simpson’s buggy to pick up Joe from the church, and the wagon from the livery. Albinia would ride with Dr. Simpson and Jenny, with Joe following behind in the wagon. Albinia still felt shaken from the previous night’s adventure, and bone achingly tired. She knew, however, that she must show none of how she was feeling at home. She briefly got a chance to let Joe know what had happened, and entreated him to say nothing to anyone. He reluctantly agreed. Albinia felt guilty for not rushing home to see her sick brother. She also felt cautiously exultant that perhaps she had helped Luther to escape to freedom.
Arriving at the Crump homestead, she found her parents so concerned about Will that they barely asked her questions about her absence. Aside from a thoughtful glance from her father when she mentioned the ox shoe, no one seemed to question her story. Lying to her parents also bothered her. She could not possibly tell them the truth. As long as Joe was here, she could barely breathe, thinking about what he might say or let slip. And what was happening to Luther?
✳ ✳ ✳
It was already early afternoon when Will awoke. He had no memory of how he had gotten to his bed. He was in the back room of the cabin, which the whole family shared as a sleeping room, divided by blankets as curtains. Will had a straw tick on the floor in a corner. The blanket pulled back and he woke to see his mother looking in on him.
“How do you feel?” she said softly.
“I’m not sure, Ma. I’m not feelin’ hot anymore, but weak.”
“Your father said to stay in bed today. He’ll handle chores. You have visitors, if you’re up to it. Dr. Simpson and Jenny are here, and Joe Breckinridge.”
“Jenny? Here?”
“Yes, she and her uncle have been waiting for an hour. They didn’t want to wake you.”
Jenny appeared at the gap in the blankets with a steaming mug in her hand.
“I have some dogwood bark tea for you. My uncle says you should drink it all, slowly, if you can keep it down, and some soda crackers.”
She came in and set the mug on the small low table near the straw tick, Sara still looking on. Jenny sat on a crude stool, watching him. Will pulled his head up on an elbow and smiled weakly. Jenny hesitated, looked lovingly back at him, and rose to leave. Will wanted her to stay but knew it was not proper, and he did not have the presence of mind to ask. Suddenly Jenny turned back, bent over the bed, and kissed his forehead. Then she rushed from the room, leaving Will and Sara astonished.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia took the time while Jenny was with Will to put away her things, and begin to get the noon meal ready.
Her father had come from the fields to see about the buggy and the doctor. Albinia was startled to see Jenny rush out of the back room, and wondered. Joe went in to see Will. So far, Albinia had avoided being alone with Joe except for a few seconds in town. Even though in her own musings she compared him to David, she felt uncomfortable with Joe. He was her brother’s friend, and he had honored that friendship with his service to her. Yet she thought she detected a spark of interest from him that had nothing to do with Will and everything to do with her as a woman. As she stirred the stew, she thought of ways to discourage this interest.
✳ ✳ ✳
The night Luther escaped, Albinia was afraid. Now, a week later, it actually seemed exciting. She wondered about Luther and wanted to see David. As she sewed in the shop in the afternoon, she thought about how she could see him again. She was mindful that she shouldn’t go around to his apartment over the store again—she didn’t want to attract notice. Besides, it wasn’t proper for a young woman to openly pursue a young man. Surely he attended church? She didn’t know which one. Perhaps she could send a note to Cassius Clay and inquire after him. He must frequent White Hall, being in Mr. Clay’s employ. Her needle kept moving as these thoughts spun in her brain, and she heard the bell, signifying a customer in the front of the shop. She set her work aside and went out to see who was there.
She found a little girl who looked to be about ten years old, in a finely made play dress, and David Horner. Albinia could hardly believe her good fortune. David was here!
“Yes, may I help you?” she said, giving no indication that she knew him, lest it give something away.
“Yes. I hear that you make fine dresses here. This is Miss Laura Clay,” he said, indicating the little girl, who curtsied, “daughter of my employer, Cassius Clay. The Clays have a summer party in three weeks. Mrs. Clay desires her daughter to have a new dress, as well as one for herself. Mrs. Clay was unable to come today, but sent measurements from her last gown. She thought that might suffice until she could come herself for a fitting.”
He handed her a paper. Albinia looked down at it and struggled to conceal her surprise. The paper did have measurements, but also a note that read,
Meet me tonight at the Charbonneau restaurant, 7 sharp. If you cannot come, tell me the dress won’t be ready for a month. If you don’t wish to come, tell me you are too busy to make the dress. It concerns our package.
Albinia smiled and turned to Laura.
“Well, Miss Clay! Let’s get you measured—if we are to have you a suitable dress in three weeks, and one for your mother as well, we must start immediately!” Albinia caught David’s eye, and he acknowledged her communication with a smile.
“If you’ll follow me, Miss Clay,” said Albinia, taking her into the rear of the shop out of public view. Laura chatted gaily about her family. She found it interesting that Albinia knew Lucy, whom she’d only met once. Albinia expertly used the measuring tape and scribbled notes while talking. She was quite used to this with her customers. However, she did have a little trouble concentrating on what Laura was saying, because of her excitement about the prospect of meeting David at the restaurant. How thrilling, and very improper!
Albinia guided Laura back to the front and showed her some patterns to choose from, along with pictures of what the completed gown might look like.
“I shall come round in a week to see how the dresses are progressing, then, Miss…?” inquired David.
“Miss Crump. Albinia Crump. Thank you. Give my regards to Mr. and Mrs. Clay.”
David and Laura left the shop. Two complicated dresses in just three weeks! She would have to work hard—but she would see David!
✳ ✳ ✳
Promptly at seven, as David requested, Albinia entered the restaurant. She arranged with Katy to spend the night, and sent a message by a neighbor for her father not to come and pick her up. She had told her father there was too much work in the shop to come home, which was only the truth. She didn’t know what to expect, but in her heart she hoped for a quiet, romantic dinner where she could get to know David better. The Charbonneau was one of the best restaurants in town, usually beyond her means.
Her heart sank as she saw another couple seated at the table with David, near the back of the restaurant. She’d been hoping for a dinner alone with him. She indicated to the waiter that she was to join that party. She consoled herself that at least she might find out about Luther. He’d said it concerned their package.
“Ah, Miss Crump! How kind of you to join us! May I present Mr. Franklin and Mabel Johnson?”
Franklin was a sturdily built white-haired man, medium height. He wore a decently tailored suit, but looked like one familiar with manual labor. Mabel was stout, with a smile that made her whole countenance beam, wreathed in wrinkles. Her hair had once been chestnut, now streaked with gray.
Albinia was confused. She couldn’t understand why they were here, but didn’t wish to be rude. She greeted them warmly and seated herself, looking inquiringly at David.
After the waiter came and they ordered, David spoke.
“I’m sure you all may wonder why I’ve brought you here. Let me explain. There are certain delicate packages, which occasionally need personal attention and careful delivery. I’m sure you take my meaning. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson here have helped for some time in taking these packages and keeping them for me, until it becomes possible to take time to deliver them to their ultimate destinations. There may be times in the future when I am unavailable, due to my travel with Mr. Clay, as he speaks frequently in the cause of abolition. I handle many duties for him, including his personal security. During those times when I am gone, I wish you to know that Miss Crump here, and Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, are to be trusted. In addition, Miss Crump, you will find that Mr. and Mrs. Johnson know a great deal about this package delivery business that you do not. You would be wise to learn from them. I will undertake to teach you to drive a team of horses myself, a necessary skill in matters that concern us. For propriety, Mrs. Johnson may accompany us at times on such ventures, or both of them together. Usually, the different links in our chain do not know each other, for safety. However, in this case, it seems best to acquaint you, so that no packages are lost in the event of my absence. Mrs. Johnson, you may contact Mrs. Crump through the dressmaking shop over at High Street and Broadway. Miss Crump, should you need to, you can contact Mrs. Johnson through a worker at the freight office named Lewis. It’s best if you contact one another as little as possible, only at need. Mr. Johnson is a cooper, and a fair hand at fixing almost anything. Mrs. Johnson is a cook for the Bryant family of Waveland.”
Through all this, Albinia listened with amazement. She would never have guessed these people to be involved in the Underground Railroad. She supposed, that was, after all, the point—no one would suspect them.
“But what about the package we delivered a week ago?” wondered Albinia.
David hesitated, as if unsure whether to answer in this setting. He lowered his voice. “Once a package moves down the line, we don’t usually attempt to follow it. However, in this case I can tell you the package is where we left it. The size of that package makes it difficult to move. Even single packages sometimes have to wait weeks or months at a time, until the right means of moving them is found.”
Albinia was surprised. She assumed David would have found a means of moving Luther into freedom by now.
“Miss Crump, I can see that you have a good heart, and from what Mr. Horner has told us, some spirit and gumption as well,” said Franklin. “If I may, a bit of advice. Patience. Always patience. Rash moves lead to trouble. And much is at stake.”
Albinia felt patronized, but had to admit to herself she had no real experience—just the one night. Apparently they’d been doing this for a while. All right then—she would learn.
“I assure you, Mr. Johnson, I am a ready and willing learner.”
“Good, because we’ve work to do this night,” replied Franklin.
They finished the excellent meal speaking of other things.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia went with Mabel to a house outside of town, near Winchester and Cleveland roads. She marveled at how well Mabel controlled the team of horses and carriage that they drove. Entering the house, they went upstairs. There was a room filled with women’s clothing, all different sizes and descriptions.
“Find something that fits,” said Mabel. “From what David says, you could probably make yourself costumes, but there isn’t time tonight. Pick something that’s nothing like what you’d usually wear, either fancier or dowdier. Think of it as putting on a show for the patrols—if one of them passed you on the street the next day, they shouldn’t know it was you they saw the night before. Of course, your costume needs to fit the mission. It won’t do to be dressed as a floozy if your only companion is black; no one would believe you an owner, for example. Try to vary your outfits and your story—no telling when you might encounter the same patroller twice.”
Albinia chose three outfits—a poor farmer’s wife, fatter than herself, with a wig, a saloon girl outfit, and the dress of a fine lady, worthy of one she might make for the Clays. She could alter them for better fit later.
Mabel took a small pistol out of a drawer and stuffed it in her reticule.
“You’ll want to get something to shoot. No need tonight, with the three of us along. But soon you’ll want something, and learn to use it. Surely your father or brother will have no objection to teaching you to defend yourself, where you are in town at night on occasion. Tonight you’re along to learn. No doubt Mr. Horner will take you some other times, day or night. We mostly operate at night, even though that’s when the patrols are out, because there are also fewer people to encounter. Many nights it’s just a peaceful drive in the starlight. You’ll need to learn to drive, not only in the daytime but at night as well. I often use the ruse of a sick relative in need, or a baby needs deliverin’.”
Mabel turned to her seriously. “This is no lark, Miss Crump. If you’re not willing to risk jail for these people, I’ll take you home now. The slaves have been in jail all their lives, as it were. We give’em a chance at what we take for granted. We call it the Underground Railroad—but it’s really just people helping people. Some ‘conductors’ on the road are black themselves, free men. Not so many women, due to the danger.” She laughed. “Myself—I’m old, nobody would bother with me. But patrollers are a sorry lot, with the law on their side. Some wouldn’t think twice about taking liberties with a young pretty woman.”
Albinia was disconcerted, and a little afraid. Could something … like that … really happen? Then in her mind she saw Luther, fear and hope in his eyes, and little Clara, afraid but determined. How could she do less than a little ten-year-old slave girl who risked everything? Didn’t God say to give what you have the power to give?
“I ... I hadn’t thought of it. I suppose those are things I should have thought about after my experience with David, uh, Mr. Horner.”
Mabel smiled at the slip. “Like him, do you? Well, he’s handsome enough. But that’s a poor reason to be involved in this,” she said grimly.
Albinia protested, “No, no, that’s not it. I ... I saw a slave of a friend mistreated. It made me realize how hard life is for them. When he tried to escape, I helped him, took him to Mr. Horner. I didn’t know anyone else. Where do they come from?”
“The slaves? Everywhere. Some from around here, some from as far away as Alabama and Mississippi. You’ll get a message to pick up a ‘package’ at such and such place on a particular evening. If something goes wrong you send word, usually through a message to me or Lewis, and we try again.”
They got into the carriage again—no one would have recognized them from the restaurant. Albinia had a blonde wig, and appeared almost fat. Her makeup made her look ten years older, and Mabel helped her paste on fake blonde eyebrows. The costume and makeup might not have passed inspection in the daylight, but in the dark, no one would know them.
David and Franklin were waiting for them. They concealed the carriage on a side road, and all piled into a two-seater open wagon. The June night was warm, the moon just rising.
After a mile, they turned down a dirt track, went about a hundred yards, and stopped. Albinia was puzzled. It looked like the middle of nowhere. Fields of tall hemp were on both sides of the little road, with forest at the edges. The dark of the dim starlight made the night feel spooky, as if someone were watching. She watched as David dismounted, with Franklin on guard, holding a shotgun.
David walked toward a small shack, back in the trees that she hadn’t noticed before, singing softly the song, “Steal away to Jesus.” Franklin kept looking around on all sides. Mabel got down and went back up the dirt track with the lantern, keeping watch on the rear. After a few minutes, David returned with a tall black man. David quickly removed a false bottom from the wagon, and the Negro scrunched himself into the cavity. Albinia judged he must have been well over six feet tall. David replaced the cover, and then moved a few boxes on top of it.
“All right,” said David. “We’ve been to a party. Franklin and Mabel here have to catch a steamboat, and we’ve come all the way from Red River. That’s our story if we’re stopped. Anthony?” David addressed the man in hiding, “you must stay hidden, and quiet. All our lives depend on it. Whatever you do, don’t panic.”
The wagon reversed, going north toward Paris. The horses moved at a surprisingly fast trot for nighttime. They moved through the pleasant summer night, seeing no one on the road until just before Paris. A lone horseman came out from the shadows, holding up a lantern, and bid them to halt.
David repeated their story. Franklin said something about pressing business from the Red River ironworks. The horseman looked curiously at the ladies but seemed almost bored, waving them on.
After a few minutes, they stopped at the back of the Methodist Church. Mabel and Franklin got down and stood guard. David moved boxes and extracted their passenger, ushering him into the church. Albinia didn’t see who received him.
On the way back to Lexington, David told her that the man Anthony had come all the way from Louisiana on his own, had been hiding out in the fields for months trying to make contact with the Railroad to cross over north.
They dropped her off with her costumes at the dress shop. Albinia found an empty trunk to stow the clothes in, changed back to her normal appearance, and walked to Katy’s house, letting herself in the back door. She would tell them she’d worked until nearly dawn, which was not far from the truth. She sank into bed, excited but bone weary.
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia got Will to drive her to town the next morning. She wanted to visit a church friend and do a little shopping. She was also curious about Albinia. Why was her sister staying in town so much? Goodness knows there was enough work to do on the farm.
She went to the dress shop, but the door was locked. Albinia was not there yet. She thought that odd. She went round to Katy’s house and found Albinia at table, just finishing breakfast.
“Julia! What brings you here?”
“And I might ask why you weren’t home, and nor at the shop, at nine in the morning?”
“I wasn’t aware I needed to report to you,” Albinia said crossly.
“Ma was expecting you. You really should send word if your plans change.”
“And you really shouldn’t be so bossy, meddling in everyone’s business. If Ma needs me, she knows how to tell me. Besides, the shop is flooded with work right now. I simply don’t have time to go back and forth every day. You know my wages help keep the farm afloat,” she said pointedly.
Julia sniffed. “All the same, you should let people know. I’ll be in town until noon, then Will is driving me home. His teacher is sick today, so no school. You’d be welcome to ride home with us.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay in town again tonight,” she said, with a glance at Katy. “Assuming that’s all right.”
“Always welcome here,” said Katy. “It’s so nice to have another girl to talk to. Unless you’ll be out late again.”
“Out late?” inquired Julia.
“Oh, just working at the shop late. I told you—there’s so much work right now.”
Julia eyed her sister suspiciously but said nothing.
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia looked around town, mostly window shopping. She bought a few grocery items for her mother and walked past the freight office toward the livery to meet Will. She almost bumped into Hiram Johannsen, who was leaving the freight office.
“Miss Crump! How delightful to see you again! May I carry those for you?” said Hiram, referring to the groceries in her arms.
Julia felt flustered but intrigued. Why did this gentle giant keep noticing her?
“Why, thank you, Mr. Johannsen. That would be most helpful. I’m just going to the livery to meet my brother.”
“If I may say so, your outfit is very becoming. Do you come to town often, Miss Crump?”
“Oh, usually once a week or so.”
“Then perhaps I will see you again. I’m in town for business. I often have to go up to the river, but our offices here in Lexington need frequent attention.”
He put her parcels in the wagon, tipped his hat, and left her to wait for Will. Julia felt flattered, but could not account for his attention. What could he see in a poor farm girl like her?