Belle

by Beverly Jenkins

  “The stacks always rain down ashes. Never stand real close,” Daniel advised her as they picked their way through the crowd. He added, “One time in Boston, I left the train station with three burn holes in my spanking-new suit.”

  Belle met his smile and doubted she’d forget the advice.

  Although the engine was made of metal, the four cars it pulled were made of wood. The freight car they were seeking was the last in line.

  The light-skinned porter unloading the car greeted their approach with a smile. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m expecting a package,” Daniel replied politely.

  The porter walked over to the stacked crates and other wrapped items piled nearby. “What’s the name?”

  “Best,” Daniel replied. “Mrs. Cecilia Best.”

  Belle hadn’t known Mrs. Best’s given name before now.

  It took the porter only a moment or two to find Mrs. Best’s leather-bound package. As he handed it over, he glanced at the writing on it. “Says here it came all the way from England.”

  Daniel took the fat parcel. “My mother has friends there. Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, son.”

  As she and Daniel walked back to the wagon, Belle wondered if one day she’d get packages from England, or be able to tell folks about the train station in Philadelphia. Daniel had mentioned being in Boston as casually as she would’ve mentioned the weather back home. Being free and facing an unknown future was both exciting and scary. Parts of her missed home like the dickens, but other parts wanted to be right here; she kind of liked this thing her papa called freedom. Thinking about him put a damper on her feelings, but she was determined to make him proud. She vowed to learn as much as she could, then become as prosperous as she could so when they were reunited he’d know the sacrifices he’d made on her behalf hadn’t been in vain. To that end, she vowed to learn something new every day. Today she’d learned many things, not the least being never stand too close to a train—if the smoke doesn’t get you, the brimstone will.

  They’d almost reached their wagon when a small group of people standing nearby drew their attention. The group was circled around some activity neither Belle nor Daniel could see.

  Belle asked, “What do you think is happening over there?”

  Daniel appeared concerned. “I’m not certain, but I recognize some of the people. Come on.”

  Belle followed.

  As they neared, Belle saw anger on the faces of the folks gathered, an anger seemingly directed at the tall, muscular Black man standing stonily in their midst. He seemed to be waiting to board the train, but there were bruises on his face and his clothing was torn and dirty. One of his eyes was swollen shut. Even though it appeared as if he’d been on the losing end of a fight, his chin was raised defiantly. A White man wearing a badge stood at his side and had one hand firmly clamped on the Black man’s arm.

  Belle was about to ask Daniel what this all meant when a big clod of dirt sailed out of the crowd and hit the Black man full in the face. Another was thrown. Then another. He ducked, but the rocks kept coming, much to the glee of the cheering, jeering crowd. When a rock struck the lawman, he raised his gun. Folks quieted.

  The lawman declared, “Next rock thrower’s gonna spend the night in jail.”

  The crowd grumbled.

  Someone shouted, “Turn him over to us!”

  “Yes!” another voice yelled out. “We’ll show him justice.”

  The murmur in the crowd began to grow. Belle could feel the tension in the air.

  Daniel grabbed Belle’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. Could be trouble.”

  Wanting to stay and get her questions answered, Belle was about to balk, but Daniel steered her firmly back toward the wagon. “Let’s go.”

  Belle had to practically run to keep up with Daniel’s long strides. “Daniel, who was that man?”

  “Patterson Riley. He’s being escorted out of town.”

  “Why?”

  “For his own safety. Riley works with Otis Watson.”

  “The slave catcher?!” For a moment, Belle was so stunned she froze in her steps. “He’s a slave catcher?”

  “Yep.”

  Belle remembered being told that men of all races were known to prey upon runaways, but she hadn’t really believed a man of color would do something so despicable.

  Still unable to fathom such treachery, Belle climbed into the wagon and Daniel set the team on the course home.

  Belle finally asked him, “What will happen to him?”

  “If he makes it out of here in one piece, who knows? Become a traitor somewhere else, more than likely.”

  “What do you mean, if he makes it there in one piece?”

  “Folks up North don’t cotton to traitors, Belle. You saw how angry those folks were. In Cincinnati a few years back, a man was tarred and feathered for aiding catchers. Others have simply disappeared or been found dead floating in a creek.”

  “Did someone around here give him all those bruises?”

  Daniel nodded tightly. “Heard he turned himself in to the law because he feared for his life.”

  Belle could understand why. She’d had no idea such things went on here. How could a man of the race do something so cruel as to send someone back to slavery? Had Riley ever watched a loved one sold? It seemed plain he had not. She had though, and for the first time in a long while Belle let her own dark memories of the auction block rise to the surface of her mind.

  She was silent for so long, Daniel finally asked, “What are you thinking about?”

  “My mother. She was sold away when I was nine.”

  Their eyes held for a few silent moments, then she turned to gaze out over the greening fields bordering the road. Her voice softened. “She screamed and fought, but they dragged her away anyway. I hear those screams in my dreams some nights. It was the first time I ever saw my father cry.”

  Daniel didn’t know what to say. He’d always had his mother near; he couldn’t imagine having her suddenly torn from his life, though he knew it happened regularly to those who were enslaved. “Have you seen her since?”

  “No. She was sold Deep South somewhere. My father tried to find out, but…” Her words trailed off. “She was sold to punish him for attempting to escape. The paddy rollers and their dogs caught him five days out. They beat him until he couldn’t stand, then brought him back in chains. Mama was put on the block the very next morning. He was made to watch, as was I. My mistress said she hoped I’d learn a lesson from it.”

  But the only thing Belle learned that awful day was that at nine your heart could break forever.

  Daniel had been helping on the Road since he was twelve, but he’d rarely gotten to personally know any of the many people his family had helped. The nature of the Road was such that fugitives usually came in the middle of the night and were gone by sunrise. Being born into a staunch abolitionist family, Daniel vehemently denounced slavery whenever the issue was raised; he’d attended rallies, given speeches and been moved by the heart-wrenching narratives offered up by recently escaped slaves at the local antislavery meetings. Hearing Belle’s story touched him in a deeper place, though. Maybe because he had a personal connection to her, having been the one to find her that day on the road; maybe because his mother had taken her in and made her a family member of sorts; or maybe because she’d been so nice to Jojo. Whatever the reason, listening to the pain in her voice further strengthened his resolve to see slavery abolished in his lifetime and to help her make the transition from slave to free as painless as possible.

  Because Daniel had grown so quiet, Belle wondered if she’d spoken out of turn. “If I’m not supposed to talk about those things you should tell me.”

  “No, Belle. It’s okay. Just thinking is all.”

  “Well, don’t tell Jojo. I don’t want her frightened into thinking someone’s going to sell her mama, too.”

  “Don’t worry. Jojo’s tough, but thanks for wanting to
spare her feelings.”

  “I like your sister.”

  “She likes you, too.”

  “You’ve all been very kind to me.”

  He looked her way and said sincerely, “You make it easy.”

  Belle felt her heart swell and she dropped her eyes, but his quiet praise buoyed her for the remainder of the ride back to his parents’ home.

  four

  Jojo came home after dinner brimming with tales of her reunion with her best friend, Trudy Carr. Afterward, she and Belle retired to Belle’s room to work on the banner.

  “When’s Mr. Douglass coming again?” Belle asked as she embroidered in the edges of what would be the Haitian flag.

  Jojo looked up from the practice sampler Belle had designed to help her master her stitching. “I think it’s August or July. You’ll have to ask Mama.”

  “He’s pretty famous?”

  “Really famous, Belle. He escaped, just like you, and now he lectures all over the world.”

  “What about?”

  “Being a slave and how slavery ought to be abolished.”

  “Daniel seems to admire him a great deal.”

  “As far as Dani’s concerned, the sun rises and sets with Mr. Douglass. Mama’s not so impressed, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, she respects what he’s done for the race and says he’s the greatest orator our people have ever had, but she says his home life is a mess.”

  Belle looked puzzled.

  Jojo looked around the room as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then whispered, “Mr. Douglass has a mistress.”

  Belle’s eyes widened. “A mistress?”

  “Yes. Her name is Julia Griffiths, and they were on a ship to England together. Papa said it was just a misunderstanding and nobody really knows if Mr. Douglass was sharing his cabin with her, but Mama and her friends say Fred has feet of clay.”

  Belle wondered which side of the story was true. “So, who does your mama admire?”

  Jojo didn’t hesitate. “Frances Ellen Watkins.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “A great female abolitionist. She lectures, and writes antislavery tracts and poetry. One of her most well-known poems is ‘Bury Me in a Free Land.’”

  “Is she White?”

  “No, silly, she’s as dark as us.”

  Belle was surprised by that. “And she lectures?”

  “Sure, thanks to Maria W. Stewart, women of all races can lecture now.”

  Belle hated to keep asking the same question, but—“Who’s she?”

  “Why, she’s the first American woman to stand up and lecture in a room that had men in it. Before her time, women could lecture only to women. She was a woman of the race, too,” Jojo added proudly.

  “When was this?”

  “1832.”

  Belle shook her head in amazement. “Jo, how do you know all this?”

  “School. Mama. Papa. Dani. Everyone I know knows these things.”

  “Except me.”

  Jojo quieted, then turned into a miniature of her mama. “Belle Palmer, don’t you dare fault yourself—it’s only because you weren’t allowed.”

  Belle couldn’t help but smile. With Jojo around there’d be no feeling sorry for herself. “Then how about we make a pact?” Belle asked.

  “Sure, what kind?”

  “You teach me to know as much as you, and I’ll teach you to be the best needle-woman in Michigan.”

  “You have a deal.”

  The grinning young women shook hands, sealing the agreement.

  Downstairs, Daniel sat with his parents in the den. There’d been an emergency meeting of the Vigilance Committee called for this evening concerning a newly arrived band of slave catchers. William Best was preparing to leave to attend. Daniel usually accompanied his father to the meetings but not tonight. Tonight, William thought it best to have a man at home, just in case trouble erupted while he was away. He also had freight to move later and so wouldn’t be returning until morning.

  “So where were the catchers last seen?” Cecilia asked.

  “This morning down near Monroe. They were riding with that scoundrel Otis Watson.”

  Daniel knew that local slave catcher Otis Watson was hated from Michigan to Ohio and back, with good cause; he’d cost many a fugitive their freedom, and wasn’t above kidnapping to have his way. Although Watson knew that the Bests were conductors, he hadn’t been able to amass the evidence necessary to have Daniel’s parents arrested. Aiding runaways was a violation of the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act, and a felony under federal law.

  “How many men were there?” Cecilia asked her husband.

  “Seven, according to witnesses.”

  Daniel told his parents, “I saw Deputy Wells with Patterson Riley at the train station. Riley looked pretty beat-up.”

  William Best cracked bitterly, “Must’ve been that justice he ran into the other day. Heard he’s lucky he’s still alive. Imagine, taking bribes to reveal a fugitive’s whereabouts.”

  Daniel replied. “Well, at least he was exposed.”

  William agreed. “Yes, but how many more people will have to suffer before he really gets his just desserts? Good thing his name and description were in the newspaper though; otherwise, only the Lord knows how much hurt he could’ve caused. Guess brigands like Riley need to do more reading and less sneaking around.”

  Daniel agreed. Riley’s name, along with the names of a few other snakes in the grass, had been posted in last week’s edition of the Weekly Anglo-African, one of the newspapers Daniel distributed. The notice warned its readers to be aware of and on the lookout for the men. Exposing men who preyed upon the race was a tradition begun by the race’s very first newspaper, Freedom’s Journal, published in 1827 by Rev. Samuel Cornish and John Russwurm. Daniel felt good knowing that Patterson Riley would no longer be a threat to the community and that the newspapers he distributed had been responsible.

  Daniel asked his father, “Do you think Watson and those men are coming this way?” The last thing the Road needed was a new influx of human bloodhounds.

  “All signs point to yes.”

  Daniel could see the worry on his mother’s face. He could also hear the girls laughing unaware upstairs. “Will Belle have to leave?” he asked.

  “Probably,” his father replied. “It might be safer for her if she moves on.”

  Daniel didn’t like that idea very much. Belle was an interesting, albeit shy, young woman, and after being with her this afternoon, he wanted to know more about her.

  Evidently, his mother didn’t care much for the idea either. “We can’t just send her on, William. She doesn’t know anyone else. If we did, I’d worry every day how she was faring.”

  “I know, lovey. I like Belle, too. How about we send her up to my sister in St. Catharines?” William offered.

  “And have Jane crush the spirit out of her like she tried to do with Jo last summer? No.”

  Daniel wondered if he should leave the room. His Canadian Aunt Jane was, as his mother described, a religious zealot, and if you didn’t spend every waking hour on your knees, you were bound for hell. Jojo had been sent to visit her last summer, but was so unhappy living such a joyless life, she’d astounded everyone by hopping a train and coming home. Daniel knew that his father didn’t like to have his sister bad-mouthed, so if his parents were going to argue he wished to be elsewhere.

  To Daniel’s surprise his father admitted, “You’re right, Jane has become more and more eccentric. But if we don’t send her there—where? There’s no place to hide Belle around here. We can’t have her holed up in the loft in Mr. Finney’s barn until Lord knows when.”

  Mr. Finney was a White abolitionist who often hid fugitives in his loft until they could safely proceed across the Detroit River and into Queen Victoria’s Canada.

  “Then I say we continue to hide her in plain sight as we have been,” Mrs. Best declared.

  She looked to Daniel
and then her husband.

  Both men nodded agreement.

  William had a few words of caution to add, though. “No more trips out-of-doors for Belle until we find out more about the catchers. Okay?”

  Cecilia looked contrite. “Oh, okay. I know you told me to keep her indoors, but she’d been cooped up for so long, she needed the air, and she had a good time. Didn’t she, Daniel?”

  “Yes, she did,” Daniel replied. He had, too, but he didn’t think that would matter to his father.

  He was correct.

  William said again, “Indoors, lovey. It’s for her own safety.”

  When Cecilia showed her husband an exaggerated pout, a smiling William turned to Daniel and said, “Son, make sure you marry a woman you can control. Otherwise you’ll wind up with someone like your mother.”

  Cecilia shot him a mock look of warning, then asked, “Weren’t you leaving?”

  His smile broadened into a grin, “I’ve treasured every moment of our lives together, my love.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, carpenter. Now go on with you. Tonight’s freight is out there waiting and you’re in here flirting. Say good night to your son.”

  William laughed. “Good night, son.”

  “Godspeed, Papa.”

  His father nodded Daniel’s way, threw Cecilia a bold wink, then left them alone.

  Daniel saw his mother go to the window. She worried every time his father left home to do the Work, so to distract her, he said, “Belle really did enjoy going out today.”

  His mother turned back. “Did she? Did she like the station?”

  “She’d never seen one before,” he related, admittedly still a bit surprised, then added, “But I suppose that isn’t that unusual, considering.”

  “No, it isn’t. I’d never seen a train either until I left Virginia.”

  Daniel thought back on Belle’s reaction to the man and woman with the burning hat, and the memory made him smile.

  “What’re you smiling at?” his mother asked quietly.

  He met her eyes. “Nothing really. She—Belle—just looked so excited seeing that train. I felt like a little kid again.”