by Aileen Fish
Anna’s face softened, and he dropped his eyes to his clasped hands. He was not certain he could withstand a tender glance from Anna, not without wanting to kiss her lips.
He rose from the edge of the bed.
“Is that all, Miss Douglas? I really think you must go.”
She blinked and stood hastily.
“Yes, of course. But Mr. Damon, I think you have skirted my inquiries, or perhaps I did not ask the question in the most direct manner possible.”
He guided her to the door, but when he put his hand on the knob, she covered it with her own. The shock that went up his arm raced through his chest to his heart, and he froze.
“Mr. Damon, are you a conductor on the railroad?”
George, standing only inches from Anna, looked down into her eyes. He thought he must surely drown in their blueness.
“Yes, Miss Douglas. Do you not remember me?”
Anna’s eyes widened. A broad smile broke out on her face, and George’s heart thumped once, quite loudly.
“It is you! I should have known it. Why did you pretend to be disinterested in abolition?”
“For the same reason you hold your tongue when you go out to social engagements. To protect myself, the railroad and the escaped slaves who seek freedom.”
Anna raised herself to her tiptoes and placed a warm kiss on his cheek. George dropped his hand from the door and thrust his hands behind his back lest he fold her into an embrace.
“Oh, it is so good to meet you, Mr. Damon,” she said happily. “Good day!”
She opened the door, thrust her head out to scan the hallway and then slipped out and closed the door behind her.
George stared after the closed door, his hand to his cheek, thinking foolishly that he had forgotten to make arrangements for dinner.
Chapter 8
Anna ran down the hallway to the room she shared with Mrs. Brickman. She entered silently and tiptoed to her bed to take off her boots. She lay down but suspected that sleep, if it had been elusive before, would now be impossible.
So, Mr. George Damon was the mysterious conductor.
“George,” she whispered, savoring his first name. It was a solid-sounding name, suggesting a man who was dependable, honorable and steadfast. Perhaps even heroic?
She felt her cheeks heat, and she put a hand to them. Yes, George was quite the dashing figure. She thought she might fully admit to herself now that she could not have made it without him. She would have gotten lost without his lead, even had he not thrown the slave catchers off their trail.
Who could possibly suspect that the man who had singularly found his way into her heart might be the scion of a plantation worked by slaves? It seemed completely farfetched, and were one to ask Anna only a month ago if she could ever love a slave owner, she would have adamantly shouted no.
But George had evolved from his upbringing, and it was perhaps this evolution that gave him the character he now possessed. A compassionate man dedicated to his beliefs, much like her father.
She turned onto her side, trying to will herself to sleep, but sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. She tossed and turned and finally sat up. The sun beckoned her, and she donned her boots, cloak and bonnet and slipped out the door and tiptoed down to the front hall.
Thankfully, the hall was empty, and Anna stepped outside without notice and paused to breathe in the fresh spring air. The sun shone, and though the air was somewhat cool, all felt right with the world.
She could hardly remember the date, so distracted had she been, but she thought it must be April 12, 1861.
She turned down the lane and strolled toward what she remembered as the center of town. As she walked almost in a dream state, she dwelt on images of George—his straight back, the dark waves of his hair and the blue of his eyes.
Buildings grew more dense and numbered, and she soon found herself jostling for position with wagons and horses that joined her on the road. Fortunately, the city had built a wooden walkway, and she was able to jump onto that to avoid being run down.
So lost was she in thoughts of George that she almost failed to notice ringing bells. Church bells? Surely not. The day was Friday, not Sunday. Nor was it just one set of bells. She could distinctly make out more than one, their unharmonious chiming rather unnerving.
She paused to study her surroundings. People moved quickly past her. Several horses raced dangerously down the main street, and a growing throng of people formed near a large building further down the road.
Had something untoward occurred? She quickened her step. As she did so, someone grasped her arm from behind and clamped tightly onto it. She shrieked and yanked, turning to find George holding her tightly.
A man rushed by them, shouting to anyone who would listen.
“The Confederacy has fired on Fort Sumter! We’re finally gonna go to war!”
Gunshots rang out from somewhere.
Anna gasped, and George pulled her toward him.
“Come, we must return to the inn!” he ordered. “These celebratory bullets may go astray and harm someone,” he said bitterly. He gave Anna no choice but propelled her along the walkway with him.
“War? With the Southern states? Oh, please, no! This cannot be possible!” Her father had published articles on the possibility of war, given the secession of several Southern states, but Anna hoped that matters could be resolved diplomatically and that war between the states might never come to pass.
“It is possible, Anna. It was almost a certainty when Abraham Lincoln won the presidency, and a guarantee when the Southern states seceded and formed the Confederate States of America. It was not a matter of if, but when the North or the South declared war.”
They moved quickly away from the city center, Anna throwing glances over her shoulder at the growing commotion in the streets.
“George, what about you?” Anna pulled at his arm, forcing him to stop. She used his given name unthinkingly, as he had used hers.
George looked down at her and pulled her into his arms.
“I am a Southerner by birth,” he muttered against her bonnet. “I have thought long and hard about what I should do in the event of a civil war between the Northern states and the Southern states.”
Anna, though shocked and distressed by the catastrophic news, could not help but relish the feel of George’s arms around her. No man, with the exception of her father, had ever embraced her thus.
“Come! We must hurry.” George tucked her hand in his arm and urged her along. “Forgive me, Anna, for taking such liberties with you. I can only suppose it is my apprehension for the future, for your safety and the future of our country.”
Winded, she kept up with him.
“No forgiveness is needed, George,” she panted. “Even in the midst of this turmoil, I delighted in your embrace.” She bit her lip, shocked at her boldness.
George paused and turned to look at her. He raised her hand to his lips before pressing it to his chest.
“I have been smitten with you ever since I met you months ago, Anna. I never imagined a time when you would return my regard, and yet if I am to believe your words, you feel the same as I do?”
Somber blue eyes searched her face, and she smiled and put her free hand to his cheek. His skin was warm, overdue for a shave and bristly. He pressed his face against her palm, and her heart swelled.
“I do,” she said. “I do.”
George lowered his head to kiss her, and she tilted her neck. His lips, warm and tender, touched hers, and his arms pulled her into a tight embrace. The ringing of the bells in the city could have been those of a wedding, for all she knew.
George released her and smiled gently.
“I cannot believe that I have found the love of my life on what may the worst day for this country. President Lincoln will no doubt call for volunteers to form into an army. And I will be called upon to spy for the Union.”
“What?” Anna cried out. She grabbed his hands and pulled them tightly
to her neck. “No! No, you cannot, George! I cannot find you now only to lose you. It sounds too dangerous, much too dangerous! How do you know they will call upon you?”
“I was contacted several months ago by a colonel in the Union army, also an abolitionist and agent for the Underground Railroad. He asked for my services should war come to pass, and I agreed to accept a commission in the army but act as a spy.”
Anna’s knees weakened, and she clung to his hands.
“When will I see you again?”
“You see me at this moment,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “We are together now, my love.”
Anna blinked, trying without success to prevent tears from pooling in her eyes.
“What of the railroad, George? Who will bring the slaves from Missouri to the North? Or will they all be freed now that a war has begun?”
George took her hand in his and turned for the inn.
“No, the slaves will most definitely not be freed unless the Federal government prevails in this conflict. I can only hope that it will last no more than a matter of months, perhaps even weeks. I can then resume my duties as conductor if need be. I believe the railroad will continue despite a possible declaration of war. For those of us called to war, other conductors and agents must take up the slack and transport the slaves north.”
“What if I do it?” Anna asked. “What if I go into Missouri and pick them up? You could show me your meeting places, your route, how you communicate.”
George halted abruptly, turned and put his hands on Anna’s shoulders. He lowered his head and bent level to look into her eyes.
“No! I forbid it. Absolutely not!”
Anna gritted her teeth. “Mr. Damon,” she warned. “You know very well I don’t respond to orders.”
A smile broke out on his face.
“Yes, I do know, and I think you also know that what you suggest is impossible for a well-bred young woman who has no experience in the South. Furthermore, battle lines will be drawn. If caught, you might possibly be considered an enemy of the Confederacy, a spy, and you will hang if they catch you. You are sensible enough to know that.”
Anna sighed.
“The world has gone mad,” she murmured. “Come, let us tell Mrs. Brickman and the Carters the news. I wish to hurry home as well. Is my father in danger? Is Anamosa in danger of attack?”
They resumed their journey.
“I do not know, Anna. I hope not. Your father will be worried about you though. We must return without delay.”
Mrs. Brickman and the Carters were shocked by the news, though Mr. Carter had predicted that the states would go to war.
They huddled in the kitchen, listening to Anna’s description of the turmoil in the town.
George pulled Mr. Carter aside and spoke to him in a hushed voice, but not so quiet that Anna could not hear.
“Mr. Carter, what do you know about Mr. Stanhope? I detect a softening in the few words he imparted this morning, suggestive of a Southern accent.”
Mr. Carter shook his head. “Nothing. He and a companion arrived yesterday and planned only to stay the night. They left while you were out.”
George nodded. “We must leave as soon as possible. I will drive the wagon, and the ladies can sleep in the bed of the wagon as need be. My horse will travel behind us.”
“I understand,” Mr. Carter said.
Anna moved toward them.
“Will the ladies be safe, Mr. Carter?”
“Yes, I am certain of it,” he said. “I will deliver them to their next stop tomorrow. I do not imagine that the Confederacy plan to attack Dubuque anytime soon, though I cannot say for certain. It has certain strategic value on the Mississippi River.”
Anna nodded. The Mississippi River. She wondered if that was how they would ferry Suzy, Sally and Sara north, but she dared not ask.
Mrs. Brickman and Anna went up to the attic to say good-bye to the women and the baby, with reassurances that all would be well. Anna avoided the subject of war, and Mrs. Brickman did not raise it either.
They returned to their room, packed their bags and met George in the kitchen. Mr. Carter had harnessed and hitched Blackie to the wagon, and George’s horse was tied to the back.
George helped Anna and Mrs. Brickman into the wagon and seated himself at the reins. Mr. and Mrs. Carter bade them farewell, and they began the long journey back to Anamosa.
The journey was without event, although sitting next to George in the wagon was occasion enough for Anna. Mrs. Brickman gave her several speculative glances but said nothing, as there was little opportunity for private discussion between the women. Mrs. Brickman climbed into the bed of the wagon to sleep, but Anna could not bear to leave George’s side. With a glance over her shoulder toward the sleeping Mrs. Brickman, Anna lay her head on George’s shoulder and fell asleep.
She was only vaguely aware when George stopped the wagon to rest and water the horses. In those moments, she lay her head down on the buckboard and dozed. She hoped George would sleep but felt certain that he did not.
They arrived back in Anamosa late in the afternoon of the following day, and George drove them straight to the mercantile at Anna’s request. The town seemed busier than usual. People thronged and milled about in the streets, clustering outside of the post office and the newspaper.
Anna ran into the store, empty of customers.
“Father! Father!” she called out. Her heart pounded. Had the slave catchers informed the authorities regarding his activities on the railroad?
George and Mrs. Brickman followed her in. Her father came hurrying out of the back.
“Anna! Mrs. Brickman! Mr. Damon! Thank goodness you have returned. I have been so worried about you since the news of the attack on Fort Sumter. I presume you have heard the news. President Lincoln has sent out a call for volunteers to take up arms against what he calls the insurrection.”
Before they could do more than nod an assent, Anna’s father rushed on.
“Did all go well on the journey? I thought I saw Mr. O’Reilly’s companion lurking outside of the store for several days, and I knew you were right, Anna. I could not have delivered our bundles.”
Anna told him of the pursuit by the slave catchers and George’s diversion and return. She also told him they had heard the news of the attack on Fort Sumter but had not heard that the president asked for volunteers. She said nothing of George’s impending departure to the war, leaving that to him to disclose, if he chose.
“Thank you so much for assisting the women in their undertaking, Mr. Damon,” her father said, grasping George’s hand, “and for ensuring that the bundles were delivered safely.”
George demurred, as she knew he would.
“I do not know what changes will occur to the railroad now that war has been declared, Mr. Douglas,” he said, “but I urge the utmost caution, sir. I wish that I could assist you further, but I must leave soon, possibly tomorrow.”
Anna’s heart dropped. So soon?
“May I ask where you are going?” her father asked with a tilt of his head. “Do you return to the South to take up arms?”
George looked over his shoulder toward the closed door before allowing his eyes to rest on Anna. He shook his head.
“No, but further discussion would be unwise. Anna knows. Perhaps she can tell you later in the privacy of your home.”
Her father looked between them with surprise but asked no more.
“Mr. O’Reilly and the rest of his slave catchers vanished as soon as we heard the news of Fort Sumter,” Anna’s father said. “I am not certain we have seen the last of him, but for now, I hope they have hightailed it back to Missouri.”
Anna did not know if her father realized George was the conductor who had brought Suzy, Sally and Sara to the house. She was still determined to do what she could to keep their route on the railroad alive but decided against saying anything further in front of George.
He could be most forceful in his argument against
her involvement, and she thought her father might allow himself to be persuaded. Though the thought of George’s imminent departure pained her, she thought she would wait until he left to discuss the matter with her father.
“I must return to the farm and see to my horse,” George said. “I will take the ladies home and put up your horse and wagon.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Douglas said. “Please come for dinner, Mr. Damon. If Mrs. Brickman is not up to the task, I shall prepare something for you.”
“Father is an excellent cook,” Anna said with a tired smile. “Yes, please do come for dinner, George.”
She hardly noted that Mrs. Brickman and her father exchanged glances. She had eyes only for George.
“Yes, of course,” George said with a broad smile. “I would be delighted.”
He escorted the ladies from the store, and they returned to the farm, where he and Anna fed and watered Blackie. Mrs. Brickman thanked him and went into the house.
George took Anna’s hands in his own and turned her to face him. His expression seemed cautious, almost tentative for such a normally assured man.
“I think I must leave tomorrow, Anna. Although you and I met months ago, we have only come to know each other over the past few days. I have been besotted with you since the first day I met you. I love you, and I want to marry you. Please do not give me an answer yet. Think about it, no matter how long it takes. I can wait.”
Anna’s knees buckled, and she clung to his hands. Never had she imagined that she would fall in love in the space of a few days. Never had she imagined she would really fall in love. And yet here was a handsome and courageous man who shared her passion for justice.
“I do not need to think about it, George. Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes, a thousand times yes,” she said more forcefully.
George’s face lit up, and he pulled her into his arms.
“I love you too,” she whispered against the front of his coat.
Gentle fingers lifted her chin, and George kissed her. His lips, warm and tender, pressed against hers in a romantic moment that took the breath from her body. When she longed for more, he released her and kissed her forehead.