by Leslie Gould
Mamm lowered her voice. “Harriet’s with child. That’s why she’s ill.”
“Can’t her mother go?” Annie asked.
Mamm shook her head. “You know she’s not up to that.” The woman had been beside herself since Cecil ran off to war. “You can cook and clean and care for Noah, and see what you can do for Harriet too. It won’t be long until Harriet’s little one arrives. . . .”
Tears stabbed at Annie’s eyes, but she knew Sophia would want her to go.
“Don’t you see?” Mamm put her hand on Annie’s shoulder. “God’s sending your grandmother and aunt to make it possible for you to help Harriet and George. I’m sure of it.”
Annie knew it was the right thing to do—even though she didn’t want to go.
6
By Sunday, it seemed the news that Annie would soon travel to Peach Bottom had passed through the entire district. That afternoon, Samuel and Annie sat on the front porch of the Bachmann house while Dat rested just inside the house. The front door was open, so they were well chaperoned.
Samuel said he’d miss her while she was gone. “I’ll try not to worry,” he added. “But Peach Bottom is so close to Maryland. What if the fighting shifts that way?”
Annie had wondered that too and wished Harriet, George, and Noah could come home, but with Harriet’s time so close and George farming, it was impossible.
Samuel seemed deep in thought.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m just trying to think who else could go.”
“I’ve already thought through all of that,” she said, “and haven’t come up with anyone. I won’t be gone long.”
They were silent for another long moment, and then Samuel changed the topic. “Between what I’ve saved and what my father has pulled together, we’ve come up with the money to pay for me not to fight. Mr. Stevens is going to see to the documents.”
“Wunderbar,” she said. “Will he be back from Washington soon?”
Samuel took her hand. “Soon enough, anyway.” He gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure you won’t be gone long?”
She nodded. “Just a few weeks.”
“All right, we’ll talk more when you return—about our future.” His eyes grew soft. “Write to me when you can. You’ll be in my prayers.”
“And you in mine.” Her heart swelled. Jah, Samuel Yoder was a good man. She looked forward to her return. Surely, they’d talk about a time to marry then.
Dat drove Annie to the train station in Lancaster City before dawn the next day. However, she wouldn’t be taking the train. Instead she would ride with a wagoneer by the name of Woody.
The journey to Peach Bottom was just over twenty miles. They’d coordinated her meeting with the driver to fall close to the arrival of her grandmother and aunt. That way, Dat could shuttle Annie to the Lancaster train station and then the other two home all in one trip. Annie would have to wait an hour or so before the wagoneer would pick up his load—and her.
Dat gave her strict instructions to stay in the station. When they arrived, he parked the wagon and sent Annie inside to find her grandmother and aunt while he watered and fed the horses.
The place buzzed with activity as people rushed both toward and away from the tracks. Whistles blew in the distance, and the steam hissed as the trains approached and left the platforms. Vendors sold fruit, bread, and cheeses. Porters pushed carts loaded with luggage and crates. A few soldiers, along with scores of other people, sat on the benches, waiting for their trains.
Annie spotted her grandmother and aunt, waved, and hurried toward them. They had a cart of baggage and boxes. After they all greeted each other, Annie led the way to the wagon as they followed behind her. Once Annie had retrieved her own bag from the wagon and her father loaded her grandmother and aunt’s belongings, she told everyone good-bye.
“Do as I instructed,” Dat said to Annie.
She nodded, nervous to travel, especially alone. She’d be sure to be prudent every step of the way.
After she returned to the station, she sat down on a bench to wait. Peach Bottom was in York County on the other side of the Susquehanna River. Thankfully the driver would cross it by ferry and then deliver her straight to George’s front door.
She ate some of the food she’d packed. One piece of chicken and one biscuit. She’d save the rest for later. She licked her fingers and then wiped them on the cloth she’d packed.
Once she’d finished, she spent her time watching people until the man next to her left his newspaper as he dashed for his train.
She picked it up and began to read, overcome with concern as she did. A battle had taken place at Brandy Station, Virginia, and the South had won. She read on. It seemed the Confederate Army was still on the march. Some were in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, others still in Maryland. She couldn’t find where any had crossed the border into Pennsylvania. It seemed as if they were spread across a large area, ready to congregate in the same location soon. She hoped it wouldn’t be near Peach Bottom.
Another man, most likely younger than twenty, sat down next to her and nodded toward the paper in her hand, to the article about Brandy Station.
“Horrid, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Where do you think they’ll attack next?”
“Some say they’ll head to Philadelphia. Rumor is Lee will swing all of his boys north once he reaches the Shenandoah.”
A shiver ran up Annie’s spine.
When a family with several children sat down beside her, Annie rose and gave them her spot, moving to a bench at the edge of the waiting area where she could see the loading docks out of the open doors. A freight train, loaded with lumber, came into the station. Three men, one who was black, approached it, checking the strappings that secured the logs on the train car. The group stepped between two cars and disappeared to the other side. After several minutes, the two white men reappeared, but not the black man. She watched, waiting for him to come back too, but after another fifteen minutes the train rolled out of the station.
There weren’t many black people in the station, but now and then a black man or woman would walk by. She knew, from Samuel, that the woman who managed Thaddeus Stevens’s properties in Lancaster was a black woman who actually owned property of her own too.
Annie continued to watch the tracks as she waited, thinking of the one trip she’d taken to Philadelphia on the train with Mamm, Dat, Sophia, and Josiah three years ago, soon after George had married and before Sophia fell ill. First, they’d visited their grandmother and aunt in Exton and then traveled on to Philadelphia for the day “just to see the sights,” as Dat had said.
Along the way, he’d told Annie about a great-great-great-aunt of his who had been a young woman during the Revolutionary War. He kept his voice low, perhaps because he didn’t want Sophia to hear. At that time Mamm and Dat still hoped that she’d shift her affections away from Richert. “This aunt ended up marrying a Scottish man from Philadelphia, but that’s another story. The one I’m thinking of now is that, in the dead of winter, she rescued her injured brother from Valley Forge.”
Annie had remembered that story when Sophia fell ill and then again when the war started. Other Bachmanns had faced hard times and hard decisions. It wasn’t just her family.
Another freight train full of lumber stopped, and this time five men, three white and two black, began checking the straps. Again they stepped between the cars and disappeared on the other side, and, again, one of the men—a black one—didn’t return.
Annie thought of Archer at the Fishers’. She’d heard of Englischers smuggling slaves north, all the way to Canada, but had guessed that had stopped once the war started. But maybe not. However, she didn’t know of any Plain people, not even Mennonites, who were involved in the practice. And she doubted the Fishers were. She guessed Hiram had simply been looking for a laborer for the day and had hired Archer.
But she couldn’t help but wonder about the two black men who had seemed to disapp
ear on the tracks. Was there some hidden compartment where they’d been squirreled away for a ride to Philadelphia and that much closer to freedom?
In time, Woody stepped into the station and yelled, “Annie Bachmann!” He was tall and stood with his hat in his hands. His head was completely bald, although he was probably a decade younger than Dat.
The man’s name was Mr. Woodson, but everyone called him Woody, and he sometimes hauled hay for her father, so it wasn’t that she didn’t know him. But she certainly didn’t know him well. Dat trusted him though, and so would she.
She quickly gathered her things and followed him out to the street to his wagon. Annie was happy to see that he had another person riding with him, a woman at least Mamm’s age. The man gave Annie a hand up into the wagon; then he put her belongings in the back on top of the cabbages he was hauling.
The morning became warmer as they headed out of town and then traveled south. The older woman, a Mrs. Lacey, was heading to her son’s place at Peach Bottom. She talked and talked as they passed by pastures, fields, and woods. Thankfully the road was dry, and because six horses pulled the wagon, they made good time. Even though the ride was bumpy, Annie grew sleepy.
She awoke, realizing that she’d rested her head on the woman’s shoulder. Startled, she sat up straight.
“Now, now,” the woman said. “You rest your head as much as you would like.”
Annie appreciated the woman’s maternal kindness but stayed awake after that. She’d never been to Peach Bottom before, and she soaked in the countryside. It was hillier the farther south they traveled, but the land was well cared for and the farms appeared to be fertile. The scent of the cabbages in the wagon bed mixed with onions and grain and mowed hay as they traveled along. A horsefly buzzed around her head, and she swatted it away. Then a pheasant flew up out of a field, startling her.
The woman continued talking.
Soon the conversation shifted to the war. Annie asked Woody if he knew anything about the Battle of Brandy Station in Virginia. He said he hadn’t heard about it, but the woman had read yesterday’s paper too and spouted what Annie already knew.
Then the woman turned around and looked in the back of the wagon. “What’s in the boxes underneath the cabbages?” she asked.
Annie turned too. She’d thought the entire load was cabbages, but sure enough the load had shifted and in a few places pine boxes were visible.
The man didn’t answer, and Mrs. Lacey put her hand on one hip, bumping her elbow against Annie. “Well?”
“Sorry,” Woody said. “My hearing’s not so good.” With that he urged the horses to go faster.
Finally, in the late afternoon, the road began heading down the steepest grade so far. Soon the wide river came into view and then the ferry.
Woody pulled back on the reins to slow the horses, much to Annie’s relief. The grade was steep and the load heavy, she knew. As they neared the river, the watery, organic scent wafted through the breeze. Woody slowed the horses to a slow walk as they neared the ferry, a flat-bottomed boat that already had an empty wagon on board, with three Union soldiers standing beside it.
“My relatives have been using this ferry for over a hundred and fifty years,” Mrs. Lacey said. “The road from Peach Bottom goes on up to York. In times like these, I’m guessing there’s a lot of extra traffic going back and forth on it.”
Woody didn’t respond, and Annie didn’t say anything either. She simply kept her eyes on the soldiers below, wondering why they were in the area.
When they reached the ferry station, the operator motioned to Woody to stop. He instructed Mrs. Lacey and Annie to get down, and the operator quickly assisted them and then directed the two to board the boat first and sit on the bench near the front, close to the soldiers.
Annie was thankful to be with Mrs. Lacey and follow her lead. As they sat on the bench, the three soldiers tipped their hats. Mrs. Lacey said hello, but Annie ducked her head, knowing her face was hidden under the brim of her bonnet.
Once the wagon was on the ferry, Woody hopped down and struck up a conversation with the soldiers, although Annie couldn’t hear the details.
“I really wonder what he’s hauling,” Mrs. Lacey whispered to her. “Besides the cabbage. And I don’t believe for a minute he hadn’t heard about that battle yesterday. I think he’s working for the Union.”
From the tone in the woman’s voice, Annie wondered if perhaps she sympathized with the Confederacy.
Annie glanced at the wagon, although at the moment she couldn’t see any of the boxes under the cabbages. There was certainly nothing illegal about hauling supplies for the Union Army, and Annie didn’t blame Woody for not talking with the woman about his business.
The boat lurched as the operator pushed a pole in the water to get it started, and then lurched again as the current caught it. The rope running through the ferry guided it along as the operator continued using the pole.
The breeze from the river was cool against Annie’s face, and she turned toward the water, raising her head. As she did, she caught one of the soldiers staring at her. She quickly turned away from him and gazed back toward the shore.
When they reached the other side, Mrs. Lacey saw her son and waved a big hello. She then quickly told Annie good-bye, grabbed her bag from the back of the wagon, and hurried off the ferry.
Annie waited on the bench as the soldiers first drove the Army wagon off the ferry and then Woody followed in his. She then walked off, expecting to climb back in the wagon and quickly complete the journey. She was tired, hungry, and dusty from the trip.
“Wait a minute,” Woody said to her. “I’m going to drive the wagon over to that lot and then transfer my cargo into the army wagon.”
Annie waited for him to pass, turning her body away from the dust. When it had settled, she followed them to the lot.
It was a bit of a process to transfer the cargo to the army wagon. While the men worked, Annie watched the comings and goings around her. Peach Bottom was an interesting crossroads, with a road passing north and south, and one heading west. The river acted as another passageway. Just a few miles south was the Pennsylvania–Maryland border, which was also the Mason–Dixon Line. It separated the South and North. Slave and free.
Jah, Peach Bottom seemed to be a complicated crossroads. Much more so than the straightforward intersections back home that simply separated one community from another.
“Where are you headed?” the youngest of the soldiers asked Woody.
“Over to George Bachmann’s place.” He nodded toward Annie. “I need to deliver the girl.”
“Is that on our way?” one of the other soldiers asked the first one.
“Not really,” he answered. And then he hesitated.
“No, it is,” Woody answered. “And I’d be much obliged if you could take her with you. I could cross back over the river and get a head start on my trip back to Lancaster.” The ferry hadn’t left yet.
Annie stepped back. She didn’t feel at ease with Woody, but she felt even less comfortable with the soldiers.
The first soldier approached her. His hair was blond and curly underneath his hat. He spoke quietly, “I’m Private Ira King. I promise we’ll get you safely to your brother’s house.”
Annie glanced at Woody, and he nodded in return. “Go on,” he said. “Ira can be trusted. I’ve known him since he was a boy.”
She turned toward Ira King and said, “I’m Annie Bachmann, from Lancaster County.”
“Are you Plain?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I live here in Peach Bottom with my mother,” he said. “Well, I used to. Before I joined the army.”
He told one of the other soldiers to ride in the back with the cabbage, and the third soldier climbed up into the driver’s seat while Ira helped Annie up onto the bench, putting her in the middle. Her face grew warm. How she wished she were still riding with Woody instead.
The soldier in the back had moved cabbage off
one of the boxes and sat behind them. They passed the post office and then a store. The street led them along several houses. Standing on the porch of the last one was Mrs. Lacey, still holding her bag. She shielded her eyes from the lowering sun and shook her head as they passed by, her lips pursed. Clearly she didn’t approve of Annie’s ride.
As they left the village, climbing up from the river, the wagon rolled along beside fields of alfalfa and grain.
“Hey, what’s in these boxes?” the soldier in the back asked.
“What do you think?” the driver asked.
“Boots, I hope,” the young man answered and then laughed.
“Ach,” Ira said. “Don’t expect anything as fine as that.”
“Guns.” The driver urged the horses to go faster.
Ira rubbed his chin, but the man in the wagon bed said, “It’s about time. It won’t be long until we’ll be getting back at those Rebs.”
Annie’s stomach tightened. The southern soldiers were God’s children too. She hated to think of them being shot with the rifles that had been delivered to Peach Bottom along with her. Then again, she hated to think of the Union soldiers, including Richert and Cecil, being shot at too.
After a few minutes, the driver said, “Tell us about yourself, little lady.”
Annie hesitated, not knowing what to say.
“She’s from Lancaster County,” Ira answered. “And not used to the likes of us.”
Annie was grateful for his words but wasn’t sure if she could trust any of the men. She sat up straight, trying to leave as much space between her and the three soldiers as she could.
“We could stop for some fun,” the soldier in the bed of the wagon said and then laughed.
Annie froze.
“Not if we’re going to get back to camp before nightfall.” Ira stared straight ahead.
“Ah, you’re such a stick in the mud,” the driver said.
“Now’s not the time for fun,” Ira answered. “Now’s the time to get our cargo where it belongs.” Annie tensed further at his words. Was he insinuating that if they didn’t have a job to do, she would be fair game? The thought made her feel ill.