After a moment Abby said, “Let’s visit the dress shop where she works. I’d like to see it.”
“And I’d like to see it again,” Maggie replied.
✴ ✴ ✴
Genie and Adelaide would not have welcomed two additional visitors to the shop that day. From the moment they unlocked the front door there had been a steady stream of patrons seeking warm clothes in preparation for the winter that was getting closer with each passing day. It was the end of November, and snow flurries swirled in the sky almost every day. The women were grateful that the pace of donations kept up with the need for warm clothes, and for the first time, shoes were among the donated items. Genie thought immediately of Eli and Richard and Absalom and the other boys who tied rags on their feet or went barefoot in the ice and snow, and she put the largest shoes aside for them—years of working and walking barefoot resulted in very wide feet.
“You know, you have your own small army,” Adelaide said to Genie when they finally were alone and able to eat a bite.
“Army?” Genie was puzzled and confused.
“Those boys, those parentless, homeless boys, like the ones who were here this morning and wouldn’t leave until they saw you safe. They would do anything for you. I know you feed them, Genie—we all know—even though you believe it to be a secret. And you clothe them and talk to them and give them the kind of information they need to be safe and—”
Genie lifted her hand to silence her friend. Her relationship to those boys was not a discussion she could or would have with someone who didn’t understand being alone and afraid. Genie helped those boys because she could, because if she didn’t, perhaps no one else would, and certainly the boys never would ask for help. She inhaled deeply and recalled her own early days in this city and knew that she, too, could have been barefoot and homeless. She was not, because she had stolen money from her master who was dead by her hand. She found her way to Philadelphia because she could read. Her mistress had seen to her education. Certainly, that was a gift but not one given out of kindness. Genie would forever hear the woman’s voice proclaiming that she’d rather be dead than live in a house with an ignorant Black heathen. She’ll learn how to read or I’ll beat the Black off of her. And she survived and thrived because of Carrie Tillman’s goodness. “I do what I can and what I must, Adelaide. No more, no less.”
“You’re a good woman, Genie Oliver, and a good friend.”
“Thank you, Adelaide. I pray that you always think so.” She stood up with a grimace at the pile of clothes that still surrounded her. “I must go. We’ll begin again tomorrow.” She went to the back to change her clothes and added a second scarf when Adelaide called out that it was snowing again. Then she grabbed a pair of shoes and socks for Eli and rushed out, hoping that she would arrive at the meeting place behind Christ Church before Ezra MacKaye so that Eli would have time to put on the shoes and socks.
✴ ✴ ✴
Ezra was a quarter of an hour early. He knew where the church was, as did most residents of Philadelphia City, but he’d never been inside. Seen at close proximity for the first time on a cold, blustery late November night, the massive stone structure seemed to loom out of the darkness like an island in the sea. Light surrounded and bathed it and made it seem to exude warmth and comfort. Ezra was impressed that stone could feel anything but cold and forbidding, and he wondered if it was a trick of lighting. People were entering as if it were a Sunday morning instead of a Thursday evening, and he realized that the Evensong was about to begin.
He huddled within his coat, wrapped his scarf tighter, and made his way to the building’s rear, hoping that the sense of warmth carried over to the back side though even if it did, he thought as he turned the corner, the light would not.
“Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson and Betsy Ross all said their prayers here at one time,” he heard from the darkness. Genie Oliver’s voice, confident and reassuring, put him at ease, though she did not make herself more than a shadow until Ezra was all the way behind the church and fully concealed by the darkness. “Thank you for coming, Mr. MacKaye.”
Genie emerged fully from the shadows in her disguise, and though it was what Ezra expected, he still found himself slightly disoriented by the sight. This was, he knew, quite a beautiful woman but he could not find her beneath the layers of male clothing. “I am pleased to see you again, though I thought I’d be early. I suppose I should have known better,” he said dryly.
Her mouth twitched in what may have been a suppressed smile though it was too dark to be certain. She had arrived early, correctly guessing that Eli would, too. She wanted to give him his shoes and socks and time to put them on before their meeting. The boy was momentarily speechless, then, by turns, disbelieving and excited. He dropped to the ground, dressed his feet, then stood and paced about for several seconds, his arms extended sideways as if for balance. Then he performed a brief march, halting it quickly as Ezra arrived and molding himself to the church wall, invisible in the darkness.
“I do wish I had better news for you.”
“But your note said you had the information I wanted! I took that to mean that you know where to find young Cortlandt!” he exclaimed, adding sourly that anyway the information may have come too late to benefit him.
Ignoring that, Genie said, “I do know where he is. I also know that he’s being held for ransom.”
“The devil he is!” Ezra couldn’t contain his anger and frustration any longer. “Where is he and how much do they want?”
“It’s not money they want,” Genie said quietly, and waited for Ezra to calm himself before she answered. “They want assurances from his father regarding the placement of new stops along the railroad line.”
“But Arthur Cortlandt is a banker!” Ezra exclaimed, anger returning.
“Who just bought a railroad,” Genie replied with calm reasoning.
Ezra stood breathing for a moment, thinking about what he had just heard, recalling the recent debate about expanding railroad service from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, Harrisburg, and New York. Before he could pose a question, though, Genie Oliver said, “Best let Eli tell you all about it,” and Eli stepped forward, nothing more than a shadow in motion. “You remember Eli, Mr. MacKaye.” It was not a question.
“Good evening, Eli.”
“’Evenin’, suh.”
“I’m sorry I frightened you the other day and after the events of recent days, I’ll be a hundred years old before I ever chase another Colored person. I hope you will forgive me.”
Eli didn’t say anything but Ezra heard him expel breath. The boy was not entirely certain that he could trust Miss Eugenie’s claim that he should trust the white man. Eli inhaled deeply several times and began to talk. The story he told was of wealthy, older men from New York and Chicago who lured young Cortlandt into their poker game. They let him first win a little, then lose a little, win a bit more, then lose more and more, until he had no hope of ever breaking even. Then they had their leverage. It took a while for young Edward to understand that the men didn’t want money from him. He drank to excess and even when sober he was not a quick thinker. Even after he stole his mother’s jewelry, worth much more than the small fortune he’d gambled away, and the men refused to accept it as payment, he still didn’t fully understand their intentions. Until the morning they’d snatched him out of the back alley behind the house on Poplar Street where he’d been renting a room and took him to a private railway car down by the docks, where they forced him to write the ransom demand to his father.
Ezra was silent for a long moment. “There’s a question I must ask, Eli, and I don’t wish to be insulting. But how do you know all this? Were you present at these poker games, at the abduction?”
“Yippie tol’ me.”
“Who?”
Genie interceded. “The New York man is Dutch. Van-Something his name is. Eli can’t pronounce it. His servant is an old man, born on an upstate New York plantation. His name is Dutch, too, and Eli sai
d it sounds something like Yippie.”
“But why would these men carry out such a scheme in the presence of witnesses?” Ezra found it too much to believe.
“That’s a question you can answer better than I can, Mr. MacKaye: Why do your people treat us as if we’re invisible, blind and deaf? But the easy answer in this case is that the New York Dutchman doesn’t know his loyal old slave speaks and understands English.”
Ezra heard the dry irony in Genie Oliver’s voice and he thought he heard Eli stifle a snort. He was already wondering whether to snatch Edward Cortlandt from the train car before it was moved, or tell old man Cortlandt of the ransom demand first. He reached into his pocket and withdrew several coins. “I’m very grateful for your assistance, Eli,” he said, knowing that to offer money to Genie Oliver would be an insult.
Even though their eyes had adjusted to the deep darkness they still were just shadows to each other, but the sound of the money was distinctive. “You don’t have t’ give me no money. I’m just doin’ a favor for Miss Eugenie.”
“Take the money, Eli,” Genie said softly, and the boy slowly stretched his hand forward, prepared to snatch it back if necessary, if the man was trying to trick him. He leaned forward and watched as Ezra counted five half-dollar pieces into his hand; then he held his hand close to his face to better see what was there. Then he looked from the white man whom he still didn’t trust to the Black woman whom he did trust, his expression a question. “You earned the money, Eli. I thank you and Mr. MacKaye thanks you. Your information is very helpful.”
Eli nodded and touched his cap, whispered his thanks, then turned and swiftly vanished into the darkness, his feet making a shuffling, scraping sound. Ezra remembered that the boy was barefoot when he last saw him and he thought it likely that Eugenia Oliver was responsible for the shoes, though he really had no basis for the thought.
“Miss Eugenie?” The question came from the dark and from closer than Ezra would have guessed, and it unnerved him. He thought that Eli had disappeared into the night. “Wit’ some a’ this money, can I buy me some more warm clothes and some food?”
“Go see Miss Adelaide, Eli. Tell her I said to come. Go to the back door. Knock two times, wait, then knock one time.”
There was no further sound from the cold darkness. Eli was gone. Genie and Ezra moved closer together so that their conversation was no more than whispers.
“This information is reliable?” Ezra asked.
“It is.”
“Do you know where that rail car is going?”
“I do,” Genie replied with more gravity than Ezra so far had heard in her voice, “and that is a matter of great concern.” She inhaled deeply, expelled the breath, and continued. “It will go to an unused spur on the Reading line.”
“It’s deserted, isolated?” Ezra asked, calculating how many men he would need to hire to surround and take the train and free Edward Cortlandt.
“It is. Which is why it is a stop on the Underground Railroad.”
The air around them stilled as Genie Oliver revealed information about herself that only two other human beings knew. Ezra MacKaye knew that his response to that knowledge would forever put him on One Side or The Other, would make his actions of recent days and weeks pale in comparison. Rescuing a girl from the clutches of renegade slave catchers was one thing. Abetting the escape of slaves was quite another. “What are you thinking, Genie?”
“That we must stop the train and take young Cortlandt before it reaches the depot.”
Ezra posed his next question carefully. “Is it not possible to wait for the train at the depot and then . . . ”
“A shipment is scheduled to arrive there in two nights’ time and there is no way to stop it.” Genie paused a moment to give her words time to find meaning in the man’s mind. “Two families from Maryland, going on to Albany, New York.” Genie paused again. “Mrs. Tubman will be bringing them.”
“Great God Almighty!” Ezra exclaimed.
“There are those who think she is.”
“So, we must stop a moving train and rescue a hostage without being arrested or killed,” Ezra mused.
“Or blow it up where it sits,” Genie said.
“Edward Cortlandt would be killed,” Ezra said in a tight voice.
“Better than Mrs. Tubman being caught,” Genie said in so cold a tone that Ezra shivered, and the November night air was not to blame. He wondered, not for the first time, who Eugenia Oliver really was.
“There must be a way for us both to achieve our goals.”
“Does that mean you don’t intend to report the imminent arrival of Mrs. Tubman? The bounty on her head is considerable.”
“I told Abigail Read and Maggie Juniper when I first met them that I was not a slave catcher, that I despised all like them and the work they did, and now I will tell you the same thing: Slavery is an abomination and should be ended. I will do nothing to perpetuate the practice.”
“Good,” Genie said, silently praying that this man would not betray her trust in him. “Then yes, I do have an idea for the rescue of young Cortlandt. But first I think you should tell his papa the situation, tell him you have matters under control, and get money from him. Enough to purchase chloroform and the services of six strong men.”
The silence that met Genie’s idea told her that Ezra MacKaye was rendered speechless—with anger or amazement, she wasn’t certain which—so she hastened to explain that she would arrange for a break in the track that would derail the train. The two men guarding Edward Cortlandt would have to exit the car, in the pitch darkness, to investigate. They would be subdued and rendered unconscious with the chloroform, allowing for the rescue of young Cortlandt. Ezra then could deliver all three to Cortlandt Senior, collect his payment, and be hailed a hero. And Mrs. Tubman could deliver her shipment in peace—and in secrecy.
More silence, and since Genie had nothing more to say she could only wait. Finally, Ezra spoke, asking two questions: Was Genie certain there would be but two guards with Edward, and where would the break in the track occur? Genie had both answers and she felt more than heard Ezra’s acceptance. Then, there was another query: The cost of the chloroform?
“I . . . don’t know . . . exactly . . .” she said warily.
Ezra understood immediately, having made more than a few similar, questionable arrangements himself: She very well could be paying more for a few men’s silence than for the drug itself. “Fortunately, Mr. Cortlandt lives nearby. Will you wait here for me?”
“No, Mr. MacKaye. I am cold and hungry and I want to go home. I will meet you in the morning after I have completed the purchase of a horse cart—you say where and when.”
Ezra gave a dry chuckle. “A very wise purchase, Miss Oliver.”
Genie’s chuckle was even drier. “I’m glad you approve, Mr. MacKaye.”
“I maintained my office on Flegler Street—”
She interrupted him with an apology and the opinion that she might well not be a welcome visitor there, either as Eugene or Genie, adding that it also might not be wise for them to be seen together. She suggested instead her shop, adding that he could enter unseen from the rear if he preferred, though, she said, few, if any, would pay him notice if he entered through the front door. He grunted and asked for the address, which she gave him. “What time?” he asked.
“I arrive at nine o’clock and have no plans to leave,” she replied, and after sending regards to Miss Read and Mrs. Juniper, she wished him a good evening and left him in the darkness behind the massive church. Alone, he realized that he was cold to the bone and lightly covered with a snow that he hadn’t realized was falling. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, pulled his hat further down on his head, and hurried out to the street where he ran to catch the first horse bus he saw, not caring where it was going. He’d plot his destination when he warmed up. For now, he wanted to think quietly about his conversation with Eugenia Oliver, about all that was implied as well as what had been said. An
d he wondered whether he’d have an opportunity to meet Harriet Tubman.
✴ ✴ ✴
If he had posed that question to Genie she would have responded, Certainly not! She herself had never met the woman called the Moses of her people, and she didn’t know anyone who had, not even William. The people in direct communication with Mrs. Tubman did not know the people who made the arrangements for her arrival. It was their job—Genie and Willian—to prepare the place and have it ready in two days’ time. The travelers would arrive when they arrived. Genie and William would be told only that they had arrived safely—or not—and the latter had never occurred.
Genie huddled deeply into her coat and prepared for the long, frigid walk home when she heard her name whispered. She whirled around to find Eli standing beside a horse cart driven by Arthur! She clambered up into the wagon and gratefully wrapped herself in the blanket Eli offered while he wrapped himself in another. She greeted Arthur warmly and knew from his smile that the cart was hers, which made her even more grateful at not having to walk home. She felt almost warm despite the light snow that still fell. Assuming that the men hadn’t had time to eat, she asked Arthur to drive them to The Joseph Family Dining Room. “I am buying us dinner!” she exclaimed, and even the horse seemed to understand because she picked up her pace before Arthur could click the reins. “The horse! Can the horse wait outside while we eat? It won’t be too cold?” Genie exclaimed, and both Arthur and Eli laughed, and she finally joined in.
Joe Joseph spied them when they walked in the door and he rushed over. “Genie Oliver! How wonderful to see you! Why have you been away so long?” he exclaimed, hugging her warmly.
Genie wondered the same thing as she surveyed the room full of people who seemed to sparkle in the firelight—candles glowed and flickered throughout the cozy room and large logs crackled in the hearth. The aroma of roasting meats and simmering vegetables and baking bread added to the sense of warmth and welcome. So often—perhaps too often—Genie rushed home at the end of her day to be alone, to eat the meal she had prepared for herself, to take stock of her activities—and to be grateful. She believed herself to be safer when alone. She took notice of the diners as Joe led them to a table: People she knew, liked, respected. If asked she would say that she had friends but the truth was that she spent no time with them unless there was a reason, and being with them because they were friends was not a reason. At least not one that she used with any regularity.
Two Wings to Fly Away Page 6