by Mikki Sadil
The carriage entered the main street of the town, and Grammy slowed Traveler down. “Shush for now, Ben. We’ll talk some more later on.”
The town was quiet. Women crossed the street from one boardwalk to the opposite one, their long calico skirts kicking up little dust fairies as they walked. They nodded pleasantly to one another, or stopped to chat, while their children played in the street, unmindful of getting dirty. The unruly mob of men was gone, but as Traveler paced quietly past the Marshal’s Office, the door opened and a tall, slender man with a shock of graying black hair stepped out. His six-pointed Marshal’s badge sparkled in the sun. He smiled and tipped his hat.
“Missus Tate! Would you hold up, please?”
“Why, Marshal Kendrick! I haven’t seen you in some time. How are you?” Grammy pulled Traveler to a stop and smiled.
The Marshal walked up to the carriage and leaned casually against Traveler’s hindquarters. His fringed leather jacket splayed open, showing the two long-barreled pistols strapped to his waist.
“I’m purely fine, thank you kindly for asking. We’ve had quite a ruckus hereabouts today and I wanted to give you a caution. That rogue Phineas Taylor is on the warpath about the escaped slaves, and he made a major fuss about you today. Seems he believes you are helping the slaves by bringing supplies, and I thought I should warn you about him.”
Grammy nodded. “Thank you, Marshal. Ben and I have already encountered that varmint twice this morning. However, I don’t think he will bother us again.”
He laughed. “Well, I did hear something about a pistol.” He turned serious again. “Missus Tate, I’m sure you are as good a shot as Joseph was, but Phineas is a mean one, as lowdown a skunk as I’ve ever had in my jail. Too bad I can’t arrest him right now, but since he’s come back from Louisville, he’s done nothing wrong except for his big talk. Just you be careful, you hear? If he bothers you again, shoot first and ask him questions later. Won’t bother me none.”
The Marshal tipped his hat again. “A good day to you and your grandson, Missus Tate. You keep an eye out now, okay?” He slapped Traveler on the rump and strode back to his office.
Grammy winked at Ben, clucked at Traveler, and they continued home.
Chapter Three
For the next few days, the plantation was in a state of anxiety. Pa, Andrew, and James left early every morning to join the hunt for several slaves who had managed to steal a couple of guns and were still eluding capture. Classified as rogue slaves, they would be shot on sight. Bess was silent and morose in the house, and the sullen field hands went about their work more slowly than normal. Between this latest event and Cracker’s hanging, nothing was back to normal.
On the fourth day, Ben had just come in for the mid-day meal when Pa and the boys stomped into the kitchen. From the dark looks on their faces and the way they threw themselves down into the chairs, Ben assumed that once again they had come up empty-handed.
Ma sat down and smiled at Bess, who refused to meet her eyes. “You are home early. Any luck?” Ma inquired.
Pa rubbed the back of his neck. “No, and we’re not wasting any more time. Henry was the only one of ours on the run, and by now, they’re probably across the river, guns and all. We’ve got work to do here.”
“What’s going to happen with the drying barn, Pa? Henry was head of that, and them no-gooders left aren’t going to work without him around.” Andrew slapped some mud from his boot, earning a black look from his mother.
Pa shrugged. “I’ll put Ambros in charge. If they have to work fourteen or fifteen hours to get caught up, so be it. I may put Bess out in the field to take up some slack. We’ve got Tootie here in the house, and if you need more help, Laura, I’ll find someone.”
Ben glanced over at Bess and realized by her shocked expression that she had heard what his father said. She didn’t hesitate with what she was doing, but merely tightened her lips and went about her work.
Ben, however, couldn’t keep silent. “Pa, Bess has always been in the house. She was Grammy’s house slave before we ever came here. Grammy won’t let you do that.”
His father’s face was utterly blank. “It doesn’t matter what your grandmother wants, I run this plantation. If I decide she is to go to the fields, Bess will go to the fields.”
Ben’s heart fell into his boots, and his stomach turned over. He had to talk to Grammy.
* * *
That afternoon, Ben went up to his grandmother’s room. She smiled but when he didn’t respond, she peered at him over her glasses. “Is there something wrong, Ben? You seem a mite distracted.”
“Do you suppose we could go for a carriage ride, just for a little while? I want to talk about something, and I don’t want Andrew or James to just come barging in like they do sometimes.”
His grandmother looked at him for a moment before putting her knitting down. “I’m not sure we need to go out in the carriage for a private talk, but Traveler can always use the exercise.”
A few minutes later, Traveler was trotting down the road. Ben was silent the whole time he was harnessing the horse to the carriage, but when his grandmother asked what he wanted to talk about, he explained.
“Well, I was just wondering. When slaves run away, do they go down the same road we do when we’re taking stuff through the woods?”
He felt Grammy tense up next to him, but he continued to stare straight ahead.
“No, I don’t think so. The path we take is well hidden from the main road, but it goes in a different direction than what the slaves would take, I reckon. Why are you asking?”
“Oh, uh, I was just wondering where they go to get lost so good.” Ben kept his eyes downcast as he spoke. He wanted to talk to her about helping Josiah and his parents escape, but now he wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. She hadn’t said anything about them running when he told her about Pa wanting to sell Josiah.
Grammy drew Traveler to a halt and turned to look at Ben.. “Ben, what is it you really want to talk about?”
He sighed. “The field hands aren’t working good without Henry, so Pa is putting Ambros in Henry’s place. He says if they have to work fifteen hours to get caught up, so be it. And he said he might send Bess out to the fields. Between that and Pa selling Josiah, Bess and Jesse are going to be powerful angry and sad.”
Grammy’s lips drew into a thin, straight line, and her hands clenched over the reins. “Well, we’ll just see about your pa sending Bess to the fields. He may be running this plantation, but the house slaves belong to me, and I reckon he’d better understand that. Bess has been in the house ever since she was a young’un, and I won’t have it any other way.”
Before Ben could respond, the sound of horses’ hooves came up behind them. Once again Phineas Taylor drew to a stop alongside of the carriage. Four other men were with him, all dressed in tattered, dirty breeches with heavy jackets fastened up tight. They smelled of tobacco and alcohol, and Ben made a face as the wind assailed his nostrils with their odor.
“We meet again, Missus Tate. Where you goin’ this time? I don’t see no satchels in the back.”
“Where I am going is of no concern of yours, Phineas Taylor. Where might you be headed with such a motley crew of uselessness in tow?”
He grinned evilly, showing stained teeth with a few missing. “We be after them runaways, and I hear tell one of ’em is yours. Well, you won’t be gettin’ him back, ’cause we’re gonna hang ’em high. Mister McKenna don’t care if we bring ’em back livin’ or not, so we’ll have us a hangin’ party, we will.”
Grammy pulled on the reins and backed Traveler up. “You are a fool, Phineas Taylor. Someday someone will teach you a lesson. Good day, gentlemen.”
His retort was lost as Grammy slapped the reins against Traveler’s hindquarters and he took off at a canter for home. When she pulled Traveler to a stop in front of the house, she met Ben’s eyes. “Ben, I don’t think we needed to take a carriage ride to talk about your father’s plans for Josiah and B
ess. I reckon you’d best think on what you really want to discuss, and then come to me. Go on, now. We’ll talk some later.”
Ben avoided her eyes as he jumped down. “Sure, Grammy. I’ll rightly do that.”
* * *
After supper the next night, Ben followed his grandmother up to her room. He fidgeted for a minute before sitting down on the floor in front of her chair. He fiddled with the strands of the rug and refused to meet her gaze.
“Pa’s fixing to sell Josiah, no matter what.”
“Oh? You’re sure about that?”
Ben stood and walked over to the window. “Yeah. I heard him talking to Ma. He said if this buyer didn’t want him, he’d take him to the auction block. Grammy, how come you can’t keep Pa from selling Josiah, but you can keep him from sending Bess to the fields? Doesn’t Josiah belong to you, too?”
“Yes, of course he does. But it’s…well, it’s complicated. The children who are born on a plantation become the property of the manager. I don’t agree that it’s right, but that’s the law. I try to stay out of your father’s way when it comes to handling the field slaves. But the house slaves are strictly my business, and I have no mind to let him send Bess, or any of those in the house, out to the fields. He can’t argue with me on that.”
“Well, I can’t let Josiah be sold. Bess would go out of her mind, and Jesse might do something stupid. I have to think of something.”
“I don’t know what you think you can do, boy. Your Pa’s word is the law here.”
Ben paced between the bed and the window. “Well, uh…what if Josiah wasn’t here when that man came?”
He glanced at Grammy out of the corner of his eye. He saw her put down her needlework. She said quietly, “Ben, what are you doing? Josiah is not capable of running away by himself. Surely you wouldn’t be thinking on that?”
“Uh, no, not exactly.” He still didn’t look at her.
A long moment passed in silence. “What we do, you know,” Grammy said slowly, “when we take food and supplies to the runaways…they have already managed their escape. Their owners have had nothing to do with it. Best you keep that in mind.”
“I know, but the ones we bring stuff to…they’re not the only slaves who run away. I hear Pa and Ma talking about runaways that we don’t ever see. So where do the others go when they escape?”
It seemed to Ben that Grammy was avoiding a direct look at him as much as he was trying not to look at her. He saw her start to say something and then close her mouth. He waited. She waited.
“It’s true, the ones we help are only a very small number.” She paused, and waited some more. Ben still didn’t say anything.
“The forest north of the plantation is huge and very dense. It spreads out for as much as a hundred miles east and west. Along the way, it borders a goodly number of farms and plantations, so I reckon it makes for good hiding. I’ve even heard of an old barn with a secret room that leads to a tunnel. They say this tunnel goes for miles and miles, and many slaves have used it for escape. Of course, it’s probably just an old tale.” Ben glanced over at her. She looked at him and narrowed her eyes.
Grammy picked up her needlework. “Best you be going now, boy. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow might be a good day for exploring after your work is done.”
He strode to the door, but before he opened it, Grammy stopped him. “Oh, Ben, before you leave, will you go over to my chifferobe, and open the second drawer? At the back is a small box. Will you bring it to me, please?”
He brought the box to her, but as he handed it to her, she dropped it. The top flew off, and an old, rusty key fell on the floor. He picked up the key and box and handed them to his grandmother. She pressed the key into his hand. “Why don’t you keep this, Ben? It might come in handy some day. Good night, now.”
Ben looked at her but she had gone back to her needlework. He gave her a hug and went to his room.
He lay down on his bed, and fingered the key. It was small, very rusty, and he had no clue what it was for. He thought back over his conversation with Grammy. As usual, she had not been very specific with him. I know Grammy is an Abolitionist, I know she hates slavery even though she’s always lived with it. But she won’t talk to me about it. Like tonight, why did she tell me about a barn that might not be there, and an old tunnel that probably doesn’t even exist? And what’s this old key for?
When the time came, he knew exactly what he had to do.
Chapter Four
The next morning Ben startled Bess by being up and in the kitchen by five-thirty.
“Ben, what for you coming down here so early? You know I don’t have food on this here table afore six sharp.”
“I know, Bess, but I’ve got a lot to do today, and I need an early start. Can’t I have a couple of biscuits and a slice of cold ham? Then I gotta go.”
Bess shook her head, and muttered, “Child, I never can keep up with the likes of you. You was gonna have porridge for breakfast, but you can’t take that alongsides yo’self. Here.” She handed him a broad knife. “Cut some ham and I’ll throw some bacon on the fire.”
In a few minutes, the bacon was finished, and Ben left the kitchen with his kerchief full of cold ham, hot bacon, and several of Bess’s butter biscuits. He put the kerchief carefully in his jacket’s deepest pocket to eat later, and began throwing hay to the horses. The sweet smell of the alfalfa offset the pungent odor of the manure as he threw each pitchfork-full into a wheelbarrow. With ten stalls to clean, the wheelbarrow filled quickly, and after more than twenty trips to the manure pile, he was hot and tired, but finished just as the sun topped the weather vane on the roof of the barn.
He swiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm and raced out the doors to Traveler’s corral. The horse was busily munching his morning hay, but Ben walked up to him with his bridle in hand.
“Come on, boy, we got places to go. I’m sorry you’re not finished eating, but I’ll mix up some sweet feed for you when we get back.”
Ben bridled the big bay Morgan and led him as quietly as possible out of the corral. He could hear his brothers and his father talking in the barn. He knew they wouldn’t be going out to the track for a few minutes, which gave him enough time to ride past the barn and get behind the slaves’ quarters. From there, he could reach the woods without anyone seeing him.
Ben swung himself up on Traveler’s back and picked up the reins. He heard a noise and saw Josiah standing near his quarters, watching him. Ben put a finger to his lips and shook his head, hoping Josiah would understand. Josiah nodded and limped off in the opposite direction.
* * *
The dense forest was at the far northern edge of the plantation, and it took Ben awhile to get there. He pulled Traveler to a halt beyond a tall strand of trees. He couldn’t see the plantation house or barns from here, so he guessed no one there could see him. Traveler was restless and began to prance around. Ben gave a short tug on the reins.
“Now you whoa, Traveler. I have to think on this some more. Once we start we’ve got to keep going.”
He sat still for a minute, looking into the forest, before he pulled an old compass out of his pocket. He waited for the needle to settle on N, patted Traveler on the neck, tightened his legs against his sides, and boy and horse moved off into the dark forest.
There was no trail of any kind, so Traveler had to make his own. He plodded on, his heavy feet smashing down the thick weeds and undergrowth that at times reached up to his belly. Downed tree limbs meant either Ben had to guide the horse around them, or jump over the smaller ones. By the time Ben realized they had probably been gone a couple of hours, Traveler was snorting and breathing hard, his neck slick and white with foamy sweat.
“Whoa, boy.”
When Traveler stopped, Ben saw a large patch of wild oats a few feet ahead of him. He walked Traveler over to the oats, slid off his back, and tied the reins to a low hanging tree branch, loosely enough so Traveler could get his head down and nibble to his he
art’s content.
“I’m sorry, old friend, but I think I’d better make my own way. All these weeds and vines are making it too hard for you to walk. You’ll cool down in a few minutes.”
Ben gave him a pat on the neck, and turned back to the thick woods ahead of him. He took a deep breath and caught the ripe musk of a nearby skunk, which make him sneeze. This, in turn, aroused a few birds that loudly protested the intrusion. Ben laughed and started walking. After a few feet, he turned around to make sure Traveler was okay. He could barely see him through the trees and all the brambles and thickets. He knew he would never be able to find his way back to the horse without leaving some kind of trail.
He reached into his pocket and brought out his jack knife. He moved over to a tall oak tree and carved an “E” onto the trunk. “E” for escape, I reckon that’s good enough.
Ben pushed his way through the dark woods, stopping every few feet to carve an “E” into the trunk of a tree. Each time he stopped, the sounds of the forest seemed to overpower him. The wind whistled around the thick tree trunks, causing the squirrels to chatter loudly and birds to take flight; insects chirred, and the scrabbling and rustling of unseen animals in the underbrush made his heart beat faster.
He was determined to find the old barn, if it existed at all. Thick grasses and low-lying vines twisted around his legs, and he gasped as he walked into a sticky strand of spider web hanging from a branch. He stopped to carve an “E”, and sap clung to his hand. As he went deeper, the patterns of light began shifting and fading away, and the forest became darker, even though it was only midday. He kept checking the compass to make sure he was still traveling north. A few more yards, another “E” on a tree, and he stopped in mid-stride. He realized there were no longer any sounds. The forest was silent. The air was thick, unmoving. Ben licked his dry lips, and tasted something bitter and foul. Fear ran through him like water through a sieve. For a moment he wondered just what he was doing. He was hardly more than a kid, yet he was about to take on adult responsibilities.