Bell's Star

by Alison Hart

  HORSE DIARIES

  #1: Elska

  #2: Bell's Star

  To all who have found freedom.

  —A.H.

  For my lovely models, Naomi and Imani,

  and special thanks to Courtney and Jessie and

  their beautiful Morgans.

  —R.S.

  CONTENTS

  1

  Vermont, Early Spring 1850

  2

  Vermont, Early Spring 1853

  3

  The River

  4

  The Runaway

  5

  The Sheriff

  6

  Slave Catchers!

  7

  Katie's Plan

  8

  A Race

  9

  North

  Appendix

  “Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses

  a light hand is …”

  —from Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell

  Vermont, Early Spring 1850

  I was born in a rocky paddock on a cloudy night. Light snow fell from the sky, covering my brown fur with white. My mother's tongue washed over me and warmed my skin. Soon she nudged me, urging me to stand.

  Rise, she told me. Danger can hide in the dark woods.

  I scrambled to my feet. My long legs were sturdy, my body stout. I nursed, and my mother's milk gave me strength. I hopped in the snow, trying out my legs. Mother smiled proudly as I trotted and leaped. Soon I grew weary. Mother led me into the shed, and sinking onto a soft pile of hay, I slept.

  Morning came, and the rising sun broke through the clouds. As soon as it was light, my mother began to teach me.

  There is so much to learn, she told me. I followed her around the paddock. She touched her nose to all the new things: fence, tree, water trough, hay, mud.

  Mud I learned quickly. As the snow melted, my tiny hooves sank into the sloppy brown mess. I was scrambling onto a dry stump when a fluttering sound startled me.

  A bright blue creature landed on the fence. I tensed. Is this danger? I asked my mother.

  Her muzzle twitched in laughter. No, my son. That is a blue jay. They are pesky and steal my corn, but they are not danger.

  Jumping off the stump, I whinnied to the blue jay. It flew into the trees.

  Blue jays have wings, my mother explained. They are free to fly to wherever they want.

  I peered between the fence rails. I wanted to race after the blue jay to the place called wherever they want. The blue jay had disappeared, but outside the paddock were many more new things to explore!

  I touched my nose to the railing, but the fence circled my mother and me, penning us in. I checked my back. Did I have wings? All I saw was brown hair.

  If only I had wings, I thought. I could fly free, too.

  Suddenly a shriek filled the air. I fled behind my mother. I flicked my fuzzy ears. Danger? Turning, I peeked from beneath her thick black tail.

  A creature leaped over the top railing, landing with a splash in the mud. It was as colorful and noisy as the blue jay, only bigger! Wings spread wide, it hurtled toward me.

  Terrified, I turned to run, but my long legs tangled. I fell in a heap. Mud splattered my white star. The giant blue jay plopped on the ground next to me. Its wings wrapped tightly around my neck, and I was trapped!

  Mother, I neighed. Danger!

  But my mother's eyes were twinkling.

  “Papa! Bell had her foal!” the blue jay cried out.

  “I see, Miss Katie,” an even taller blue jay answered. “But, daughter, your joy is scaring him. Let him go so we can see how fine he is.”

  The wings released me. I scrambled to my hooves and rushed to the far side of the paddock. My mother hurried after me and blew into my nostrils.

  Do not be afraid. Those are humans. The large one is Papa. The small one is Katie. They feed and care for us. In return, we work for them.

  Work. I did not know that word yet.

  My mother pushed me forward. My legs splayed, refusing to move. The human called Papa set a wooden bucket in the paddock. “Come, Bell,” he called. My mother trotted over. Dipping her head, she ate hungrily.

  “You have given us a fine fellow, Bell,” Papa said, patting her neck.

  Wide-eyed and trembling, I stared at the human called Katie. She stood in the middle of the paddock, her eyes as curious as mine. Then she held out one wing.

  This time she walked quietly to me. Her wings were soft when they stole around my neck. Then her cheek pressed against mine, and my trembling stopped.

  “He has a white star, just like Bell,” Katie said. “And look, two white legs.”

  “He's a fine-looking Morgan horse. Strong like his dam. Handsome like his sire,” Papa said. “Soon he'll be able to pull the plow and the carriage.”

  “Papa, may I name him?” Katie asked.

  He nodded.

  “I name him Bell's Star.”

  “That's a grand name for such a small foal,” Papa said.

  “One day he will be grand, I know,” Katie said, scratching my fuzzy mane. “He'll lead the St. Albans parade like Mr. Jones's Morgan horse.”

  “Let's hope he grows up to be as grand a worker as Bell,” Papa said. “Our farm needs a Morgan that can pull a plow, not lead a parade.”

  I nuzzled Katie's arm. I didn't know grand or parade, but I wanted to show her I no longer thought she was danger.

  “Oh, Papa,” Katie sighed, her breath tickling my whiskers. “I love him already.”

  “We'll give Bell a day of rest,” Papa said. “Then it's back to work tomorrow.”

  Work. There was that word again. That morning, with Katie's arms around my neck, I thought nothing more of it.

  But soon I would know what it meant.

  Vermont, Early Spring 1853

  Tail held high, I trotted uphill through woods. My hooves dug into the thawing ground. Behind me, the wagon bed rattled. All around me, maple trees rose into the sky, their bare branches casting shadows across the melting snow.

  I shook my head, and the bit jingled in my mouth. The harness straps snapped my back, and the traces jostled my sides.

  “Whoa, Star,” Katie called from the wagon seat. I halted before a thick grove of maple trees. Buckets filled with maple sap hung from spouts in the tree trunks. Katie jumped from the wagon.

  I turned my head to watch Katie lift a heavy bucket off the spout. She dragged it over. Grunting, she lifted the bucket onto the wagon bed. Then she climbed into the bed and poured the maple sap into one of the barrels.

  The afternoon was warm, and sweat stained my brown neck. Sweat dripped down Katie's brow as she hooked the bucket back onto the spout and then hurried along to the next tree.

  This, I had learned, was work.

  For the first year of my life, I frolicked by my mother's side while she worked. The human called Papa rose at dawn. He harnessed Bell and they worked until dusk. Plowing and planting, mowing and sowing, pulling and dragging. Farm chores were never ending. Papa was lucky, though, because not all farmers had a strong Morgan to help them.

  When I was two, I began doing light work. I pulled the human called Mama to town in the carriage. I carried Katie to school. She'd leap on my back and we'd canter wildly through the snow to the school-house. Katie pretended she was a princess or an explorer. I pretended I could fly to wherever I wanted.

  But now I was three and my mother was growing tired. Now Bell pulled Mama in the carriage and carried Katie to school. I took over Bell's jobs. From dawn until dusk, I worked with Papa. When the days grew longer and warmer, Katie came home early from school. Often she worked alongside me. Those were the times I loved best.

  “This is the last maple grove,” Katie said as she dumped another bucket. “If we beat Papa ho
me, we'll have time for a gallop. How's that sound, Star?”

  I pricked my ears at the word gallop. I missed carrying Katie to school. I missed pretending I could race to wherever I wanted.

  Katie dumped the last bucket. “Done!” She walked around the wagon to my head. She scratched under my long forelock, and my lips wiggled in delight.

  She laughed. “I'm glad you're happy. Mama may give me a whipping when she sees my pinafore.” It was splattered with mud, as were my stockings.

  “But if Mama does have a fit, I'll say to her, tell Papa no more work. Then I can go to school all day and you can eat sweet spring grass, and neither of us will be dirty.”

  My stomach rumbled. I snatched at a bush, but the dead leaves tasted bitter. Katie dug in the pocket of her pinafore. She held out a dried apple. “Don't tell Bell. She'll want one, too, but it's the last in the barrel. Winter has been too long.”

  The reins flapped against my neck as I chewed.

  “Come on. Let's take these barrels to the sugar shack. Mama needs to get the sap boiling.” With one last pat, Katie climbed onto the wagon seat.

  As soon as Katie sat down, I set off at a brisk trot. She didn't need to slap the reins. I knew from her tone she was eager to get back, and I was eager to be free of the harness.

  We trotted for a mile, but the lane grew muddier. The wheels sank. The wagon stopped.

  “Oh no.” Katie groaned as she looked over the side. All four wheels were stuck. “If we don't hurry, we won't have time for a ride to the river.”

  I knew river. The water would wash the mud off my stockings and the sweat off my neck.

  Digging my hooves into the mud, I strained against the harness. The wagon rocked forward, and the front wheels popped free.

  “Go, Star, go!” Katie urged.

  Like all Morgan horses, I was strong for my size. Last fall, I had dragged a huge tree from the forest. Compared to that, Katie and the barrels weighed little. Taking a deep breath, I pulled harder. The back wheels jerked free, and we were on our way!

  Shaking my long, thick mane, I broke into a trot. Katie sang with delight as she bounced on the wooden seat. The barrels rattled as I pulled the wagon into the farmyard, scattering the chickens.

  I stopped in front of the small barn. Papa had built it last fall using boards cut from the huge tree. Katie unhooked the traces, and I stepped from between the wagon shafts. She unbuckled the harness and the bridle. As the last strap fell free, I shook happily.

  “We've got to hurry. Papa will be here any minute.” Katie slipped the halter onto my head and hooked ropes to the rings. “It's not yet sundown, so he's sure to want me to fetch water or feed the chickens.”

  I stood beside a stump so she could mount. Tucking her skirt around her legs, she leaped onto my back. Her fingers twined in my mane. I trotted off before her legs touched my sides.

  To the river!

  “Katie! We need to unload the sap!” Mama hollered. She stood in front of the sugar shack, which was built beside the barn.

  I heard her calling, but Katie's heels nudged me into a canter.

  And we were gone.

  The River

  I cantered down the farm's lane. Turning sharply, I raced through the hay field. As with all Morgans, my gait was smooth. My legs rose with a fancy snap.

  Katie whooped. We were free!

  The field sloped to the river, which wound like a snake at the bottom of the hill. The sun was beginning to sink, casting a glow on the water.

  Katie clung tightly to my mane as I trotted downhill. Brush grew thick along the river, and briars and twigs snagged my legs. The bank was steep, and I trod carefully to the river's edge.

  I waded into the chilly water. Dipping my head, I drank. With a happy sigh, Katie lay upon my mane. Her arms dangled on both sides of my neck.

  Except for my slurping and the water's gurgling, all was quiet.

  Then I heard a sound. A gasp. It was the same gasp that Mama made when she discovered a fox had killed her chickens. The same gasp Papa made when Katie tumbled from the new barn roof.

  Like a horse's snort, it was the sound of fear.

  And the sound hadn't come from Katie.

  I raised my head. Water dripped from my mouth. Ahead of me was a tangle of branches in deeper water. A human clung to one of the branches. It was a girl human, like Katie. Except this girl's skin was as brown as my own coat.

  The girl gasped again. Her eyes were white, like a horse's eyes when it senses danger.

  The branches she clung to were beginning to shift. I flicked my ears, understanding the trouble. The current was about to sweep the branches and the girl downriver.

  I gave a low whinny, alerting Katie. She popped upright on my back. “What is it, Star?” she asked.

  I sloshed into the swirling water until it was chest-deep. Katie's legs hugged my sides. Did she see the girl, too? There was no time to find out.

  The rushing water dislodged the branches a little more. They spun, and water lapped at the girl's head. Quickly, I reached her. Her eyes met mine and then flicked upward to Katie, who yelled to her, “Take my hand!”

  Hurry, I whinnied.

  Katie bent lower, her arm outstretched. The branches broke free just as the girl let go. With one hand, she grasped Katie's hand. With the other, she caught my mane. The water tugged at her, trying to carry her downstream, but she wound her fingers in the long strands of my mane.

  I swung left, yanking my right hoof from the mud. The girl's weight pulled me off balance, and I fell to my knees. I raised my nose high, but she went under.

  Reaching down, Katie grabbed the girl's elbow and pulled her to the surface. I found my balance and rose up. With a mighty effort, I lunged for the bank. The girl coughed and sputtered, but she didn't let go. Katie held tightly to her elbow, and together we dragged her toward shore.

  The water was now knee-deep. My hooves found hard bottom and I scrambled onto the bank.

  The girl let go of my mane and plopped onto a rock. Katie slid off my back. My sides heaved as I caught my breath.

  “You were wonderful, Star,” Katie said, hugging my soaked neck.

  Tilting my head, I stared down at the girl. Katie stared at her, too. Her mane was as black as mine, but shorter and braided. Her wet dress was like Katie's—sprinkled with flowers—but hers was as worn as an old feed sack.

  Raising her head, the girl stared at us. Her eyes were tired, but thankful, too.

  I blew softly on her cheek, and she stroked my muzzle. Then she lowered her gaze. “Thank you, kind mistress,” she whispered. “You and your horse saved me.”

  She scrambled to her bare feet. Her arms hugged the front of her wet dress, and she trembled with the cold. “I best be on my way.”

  “On your way?” Katie said. “But you're cold and wet.”

  “Yes, mistress,” the girl said, “but I still have to go.”

  “Where are you going? Why were you in the river?” Katie asked.

  “I cannot say.” Eyes downcast, the girl turned as if to run, but she swayed dizzily.

  Katie caught her arm to hold her up. “Perhaps you should rest first.”

  “No, mistress,” the girl said. “My mama waits for me.”

  “Where is she waiting? Star and I could take you to her,” Katie said.

  “Oh no! I cannot tell, cannot—” The girl glanced up the riverbank. Again I saw fear in her eyes, as if danger hid in the hay field.

  “You're a runaway slave, aren't you?” Katie asked softly.

  The girl yanked her arm from Katie's grasp. “No!”

  “Don't be afraid,” said Katie. “Star and I can help you find your mama. But you're tired and wet. You need to rest until morning.”

  “No, I must go.” The girl took one step, but her legs buckled and she sank to the rock.

  Katie kneeled next to her. “You need a blanket and food. Come. You can hide in our barn tonight.”

  The girl shook her head. “Canada is so close. I mu
st get there tonight!”

  “Canada is miles away. It will be dark. Come with us to the barn. Star will watch over you,” Katie said. “You can leave for Canada tomorrow. Then you will be dry and well fed.”

  Lowering my head, I nuzzled the girl's cheek. Her skin was icy, and I could feel her shiver.

  “Will you trust us?” Katie asked gently.

  Reaching up, the girl cupped my muzzle with her trembling fingers, and then she nodded. “Yes.”

  The Runaway

  “Good.” Katie jumped to her feet. “Now we have to hurry or Papa will worry.”

  “You cannot tell him!” the girl exclaimed.

  “I will not. I promise. But if Star and I don't get home, he'll come searching for us.” Katie helped the girl to her feet. “My name's Katie.”

  “I'm … I'm Eliza,” the girl said.

  “Pleased to meet you, Eliza,” Katie said. “You can ride Star.”

  Eliza looked at me with big eyes. “I've never been on a horse.”

  “It's not hard,” Katie said. “And you're too weary to walk.”

  Katie boosted her up. “Hold on to his mane. He's a Morgan horse, so his back is broad and comfortable. And he'll warm you.”

  Katie led the way up the bank and through the brush. I walked carefully so as not to unseat Eliza. She was as light as a crow, so I barely felt her weight.

  “Why are you running to Canada?” Katie asked as we walked through the hay field. “How did you get swept into the river? How were you parted from your mama?”

  Eliza didn't reply. Her fingers dug into my withers as she slipped from side to side. Finally Katie stopped her chattering. We walked in silence down the lane. When we were almost to the barn, Katie halted. She put a finger to her lips. By then dusk was upon us, and the farmyard was filled with shadows. Earlier, Eliza had stopped trembling, but now I felt her shake again. Was our farmyard danger?