Promise of Time

by Moore, S. Dionne

  He touched a match to the wick and allowed the flame to catch before lowering the chimney. Between the straw and the old, dry barn boards, he would have to be careful with the lantern or the whole place would go up in flames. He searched through the tools for a nail, found a hammer, and pounded the spike into a solid support post then hung the lantern from it.

  He tugged around a few bales of hay and stacked them to form a low wall. One swipe of a rather dull-edged knife on the tool bench and the strings of another bale broke. He spread the hay around, pushing it into a thick mound for use as a mattress. Then, with nothing else to do, he stretched out and tucked his arms beneath his head.

  A dark spot on the beamed ceiling tugged a grimace from him. Evidence of a leaky spot. Right above his head. With a grunt he got to his feet and studied the ceiling. Only the place where he had been lying showed signs of previous leaks, so he swept his pile of hay to the other side of his little space. Satisfied he had thwarted being watered like a tree should it rain, he stretched out again and closed his eyes.

  Within seconds he sat up, nerves stretched taut. It worried him that he would have another bad dream. He didn’t want to remember. He did his best to focus on the things around him, the tools and what he planned to accomplish the next day, but his mind stumbled when he thought of Ellie. How she might look holding the new baby. The straggle of cobwebs clinging to her blond hair when she’d been cleaning the cellar. Her long lashes and flashing blue eyes. . .

  Theo reached out and pulled his knapsack closer. He needed a distraction, but thinking of Ellie only churned emotions he thought best left alone. She was a widow, and he was a deserter with nothing to offer. He dug around a bit and extracted the small Bible he carried. Its cool leather and the familiar cracks in the cover brought a measure of comfort. And he needed comfort.

  ❧

  Ellie held the baby close as Rose made herself comfortable in bed. “Thank you, Ellie. I can take him now.”

  “Have you thought of a name?”

  Rose’s features pinched. “Colin was Robert’s choice. Colin Daniel.”

  Ellie wrapped the blanket more snugly and placed the child into his mother’s arms. “A strong name for a strong boy.” She straightened, trying to hide her anxiousness to be outside again.

  She hated outright lying to Theo, but the sight of the open gate, coupled with the face of her normal contact person, a black man named Saul, had so startled her that she knew the black man was showing himself for only one reason. And it was important. His very presence communicated that she should be on the alert, even if his overalls and the casual way he stood against the open gate said nothing more than a man out for a late evening stroll to others.

  “If there’s nothing else you need right now, I’ll go back and fetch a plate for you. Food will help you get your strength back.”

  Rose made a face and adjusted the baby’s position.

  “Martha told me to make you eat something. She worries that you’re too thin.”

  Rose sighed. “If I must.”

  Relieved to have an excuse to leave, she paced her steps so her footfalls wouldn’t seem rushed to Rose’s ears. Rose’s needs had taken over an hour to tend to. She wondered what Saul’s message might be. . .and dreaded finding out.

  The first thing Ellie noted upon being outside was the light flickering from the stable onto a patch of grass only a few feet away from the still-open gate. She’d never realized how dangerous Theo’s presence would be to her and the contacts that helped her get runaways to safety. That he knew about her dealings in the Underground Railroad did little to quell her fears. He was a Southerner, after all.

  She saw no sign of Saul now and didn’t expect to. Staying risked people getting suspicious of his lingering presence at the gate.

  Ellie moved into the circle of light bleeding from the barn window onto the brown grass where her backyard joined with that of her neighbor’s. Her stomach heaved with dread. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she moved closer to the garden gate.

  From there she could see the worn path that snaked behind the next three houses and down to the offices of Dr. Selingrove, Rose’s husband. It was the same path Saul would have taken earlier.

  She skimmed over her neighbor’s garden to her left, a dark, eerie place of twisted trees and gnarled old roses, then to the stand of evergreens to the right of the path.

  Something moved among the evergreens. She blinked, unable to penetrate the darkness or make out the form of anyone. Maybe it was a dog. Still, her stomach clenched in fear. What if it was a trap? A stranger sniffing around for his runaway slaves who had discovered her part in the operation.

  She shivered. In that moment of uncertainty, she retreated a few steps closer to where the light from the lantern offered her some security. For surely if she cried out, Theo would come to her rescue.

  “Miss Lester?” The whisper caught Ellie’s attention, and the form of the slender black midwife emerged from the path, her black bag gripped in her hand.

  Ellie bit back a response. The woman had left Rose only two hours previous. She would not return unless asked, which meant. . .

  “I’m glad you came.” Ellie nodded and swung the gate shut behind Martha.

  Martha said nothing but followed Ellie into Rose’s kitchen. When she turned, Martha sat at the table, her black gaze hard on her. “He came to me.”

  Saul.

  Of course. Ellie turned the logic of it over in her mind. He must have heard about Rose’s delivery and known Martha would be a logical choice to deliver his news.

  “There is a husband and wife who could not move. The woman is ill and expecting. I done what I could for her, but they needin’ a place to go for the night ’fore they move on.”

  It would be risky to direct the woman and her husband to the cellar with Uncle Ross’s room not far above. Ellie shook her head. “I can’t do anything with my uncle here.”

  “If she gives birth, she will need to be far away. You have a farm?”

  The farm! Her mind tripped over possibilities. Her renters stayed in the main house and had a garden on the acre directly surrounding, but the springhouse, barn, and summer kitchen were all possibilities. “I can’t take them tonight.”

  Martha gave a slight nod.

  Ellie didn’t want to ask where they would stay that night. A pregnant woman ready to give birth would be a huge risk factor. “When I’m ready for them at the farm, I’ll show our signal and expect them after dark.”

  “I hoping to get them to Philadelphia as soon as possible. Pray for an easy birth.”

  She led the way up the steps to Rose’s room where the young mother was just finishing nursing her son. “Martha came to check on you,” Ellie said quietly, running a finger over the baby’s head.

  Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “You make good and sure the mother gets her rest and is eating as she should.”

  Rose gave Ellie a sheepish look. “I guess Ellie has been telling on me, but I was going to eat.”

  Ellie just smiled.

  Martha turned to her, a slight twinkle in her eyes. “You get some food.”

  “I feel fine, Martha.” She stared down at the bundle in her arms. “But I worry about. . .”

  Ellie left them alone, her mind already considering and rejecting a hundred scenarios on how to transport the slaves such a distance without being seen. She put together a tray of toast and peach preserves for Rose and delivered it to the room. Martha, she had no doubt, would make sure the young mother ate.

  She went back to worrying over the problem of trans-porting the slaves without being seen. And the frequency of the trips might lead someone to grow suspicious. And how would she care for the runaways when they were so far away? She couldn’t leave Rose.

  The solution presented itself as she stepped onto the back porch and laid eyes on the light still glowing from the stable.

  thirteen

  Theo had been startled at the sound of Ellie�
�s voice asking if she could talk to him, but, his eyes weary from reading and his mind still unable to sleep, he had welcomed the company. She scooted around the bales of hay and sat down at his invitation. He sat across from her, noting her grave expression. “Horses aren’t much company.” He tilted his head to indicate the bay mare and the gray. “A one-sided conversation isn’t very appealing.”

  Her face lost some of the tightness and a small smile curved her lips. “No, I don’t expect Libby and Mina are much company.” She twisted on the bale to stroke the nose of the mare who hung her head over the stable door to get attention.

  For the long minute she petted the horse, he admired her silhouette—the curve of light along her cheekbones and the slender hands that moved from the horse’s muzzle to her ears. Her beauty stirred in him a hunger for companionship. Human contact. Home-cooked meals and fresh linens. A cozy fireplace and the soft touch of Ellie’s lips on his at the end of a long day working. . . .

  He shook himself and straightened, realizing his image had been that of Ellie as his wife, not as that of a widow grieving for her husband. What would Martin say if he knew Theo’s thoughts had stirred in the direction of becoming his replacement in Ellie’s life? The idea held him suspended in horror for a moment, until it occurred to him that Martin would be pleased.

  Ellie’s hands fell to her sides and she sighed, turning to face him. “I came to both ask a favor and offer a solution.”

  He shook the thoughts from his head. “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t know how long Uncle Ross will be staying, and I know it’s not comfortable for you in the cellar, or even in here. You see. . .” She clasped her hands together and bit her lip.

  He wasn’t sure where she was headed with it all and decided to remain quiet.

  “I thought it might be nice for you to have a place over at our family farm. All to yourself. For however long you want or need to stay. But there will be certain responsibilities.” She wiped her hands on her skirts.

  He sensed her frustration and waited patiently for her to continue.

  She met his gaze for a second before glancing away then released a sigh. “I’ll just come out and say it. You know what I’m doing, and I know what you are. I need your secrecy just as much as you need mine. Hanging around here posing as my handyman is a good idea, but it puts you at risk as well. At the farm you’ll be away from curious eyes. But I need help.” Her blue eyes on him were imploring. “I have a young couple. The woman is pregnant, due to give birth any day, and I need a way to get them out to the farm. I was thinking of the wagon. Maybe you could put in a false bottom? I’ve heard of others using that method to transport—” She shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

  He scanned the stable, his gaze landing on the wagon itself. “I would need wood and tools.”

  “There are repairs that need to be done on the buildings at the farm. I had some repairs made to the farmhouse before the renters moved in, so you don’t need to disturb them. But there is plenty of other work to keep you busy. There’s a lot of old wood there. You could take Libby over before sunrise with the wagon, and as long as you’re done with the false bottom by evening tomorrow—”

  “Evening?”

  “That’s when we’re going to make the transfer. If Uncle is here and demands to go out with us again, for whatever reason, at least he won’t see the people. And it’ll put distance between you and him.”

  He stroked his hand down his face, wanting to ask for a razor.

  “Would you like to shave?”

  The way she read his thoughts. . . Her need to put distance between her uncle and him made him suspect his covert glances at Ross had not gone undetected. He would have to be more careful to guard his expressions.

  “Do you know my uncle?”

  There it was. The question he had asked himself a hundred times. “I thought I did, but there are so many gray-headed men with beards. . . .”

  She seemed content with his answer. She leaned forward, expression tense. “You’ll help me then?”

  Theo saw hope flicker in her eyes. Just her asking him to engage in the transfer of slaves was a risk. She had no way of knowing he wouldn’t turn her in or take the slaves himself and return them to the South. Other than the fact that she knew his secret as well.

  What beckoned him to say yes the most was the prospect of that farm. No cramped cellar. No pitch blackness. Even less chance of being caught. He could go back and forth to her house to make the repairs she had asked to be done there or to help with the garden. He’d be free to move around at whim.

  It struck him then that his plans were stretching toward long term. Theo swallowed hard over the constriction in his throat. What kept him here? Why didn’t he just tell Ellie the terrible news and all that he suspected, give her the letters, and leave?

  ❧

  Ellie hung suspended, breathless, waiting for Theo to answer the simple question. She knew he must be guessing how desperate she was to ask him, what with all he would risk helping her. What she didn’t prepare herself for was the intensity of his stare. She felt pinned by that pewter gaze, as if he was searching for a hidden motive. A vulnerability she hadn’t expected to see. Did he really think she would lure him to help her then turn him in? “You know I won’t betray you, Theo. I could never do that.”

  Something shifted in his expression, heightened.

  She tried to draw a breath, confused at her inability to move beneath that commanding stare. “You’re. . .you’re Martin’s favorite cousin.”

  He inhaled sharply and scratched his jaw, turning away. “Yes. Of course. Tomorrow evening will work fine.”

  He stood and she did the same. She’d never seen this side of him. Stealthy. Curious. Fearful. Again, his gaze searched her face, until he shouldered his way past her and out into the night, leaving her to contemplate the rear end of the dappled gray. Why were men so complicated? Correction. Man, not men.

  Martin she had understood all too well. From the time they started courting he had been easygoing and kind, though quiet. She had loved to hear his laughter. But this man confused her. He garbled her senses and made her wonder what it would be like to have a husband again. To love and be loved.

  Guilt washed over her. How could she forget so easily all that she’d lost on that battlefield? So much more than a husband, but a companion and friend, a way of life. Theo was only Martin’s cousin, and though he must surely struggle with being forced to trust the enemy—her—didn’t he realize she was making the same sacrifice by asking for his help?

  Libby swished her tail and broke the reverie of Ellie’s thoughts. At one time she might have prayed for guidance, but God had seemed far away since Martin’s death. What she needed was sleep. With her uncle Ross so close, she knew taking care of Rose, sparring with Uncle Ross, and the “cargo” left in her care would tax her more than normal.

  She swept open the door of the stable and stepped into the night. She waited a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness, and swept the yard for signs that Theo might be nearby. Still puzzled over his reaction yet buoyed by his commitment to help, she crossed the yard. Maybe all he needed was a good night’s sleep, too.

  She was about to close the door behind her when his voice came to her. “Good night, Ellie.”

  Startled, she scanned the yard, still unable to pinpoint his location. “Good night,” she whispered, unsure if he would even hear her reply.

  fourteen

  Theo had watched from the shadow of the tree as Ellie closed the door after his “Good night.” When he saw a light flicker upstairs, he finally pushed away from the trunk and wandered back to the barn. He bedded down, hoping sleep would claim him quickly, before he had to rise for his predawn escape to the farm. But he lay there, unable to get the images of Ellie out of his mind.

  He pulled into a sitting position, draping one arm across a bent knee, and lowered his head to work kinks out of the muscles in his shoulders. He forced himself to think beyon
d the stable and the farm and the runaway slaves he would be working to help. He would help Ellie out, give her the letters, and leave. West would probably be a good direction to follow, and the thought of owning a ranch, or even working as a ranch hand, appealed to him.

  What he couldn’t allow was the feelings Ellie stirred. Just sitting across from her in the barn, their knees inches apart, her blue gaze running the gamut of emotions. Seeing her profile and aching to touch her cheek or hold her hand had gnawed at him. Then, as she was asking him about her uncle and if he would help, he had been certain he could trust her. He had even given consideration to the rising thought that she might be able to love him back, but when she had implied she would keep his secret, not out of any emotion for him but because he was Martin’s cousin, he’d felt like she’d punched him in the gut.

  It would do him well to remember the reason he was here. Not to fall in love, but to tell her about Martin and deliver the letters. If he didn’t make his escape soon, he might fall in love with her, and that would make leaving impossible. But he couldn’t let that happen. Ellie was a woman who deserved a man with something to offer, not a Rebel deserter on the run and in fear, doing odd jobs to make a little money.

  He vowed to make the repairs as quickly as possible and get out of there. It was the only solution.

  ❧

  Uncle Ross’s note both perplexed and relieved Ellie. That he had “early morning business to attend to” meant she would be free to help Rose and even make a trip to the farm to check on Theo’s progress. His “won’t be home until very late” was also something to be cherished. Still, why come visit her only to go off for an entire day? Maybe he was hoping she would soften in his absence. And with his return sometime “very late” she worried he might get back just as they prepared to load the couple.