“Let go of her!” Clancy had brought Apollo around. He dropped the horse’s reins and punched Steeple in the jaw.
Steeple stumbled off the steps and fell to the ground. He was on his feet in a moment. “You’ll be sorry,” he shouted, then mounted his horse and raced away.
Emma trembled. What had just happened? Why had that man turned on her? She’d thought him an ally.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
“Yes, Clancy, thank you. I think I’ll sit here on the steps a moment.”
As Emma sat, she put the puzzle pieces together in a different way.
Paul’s late-night expeditions, a hidden room, a woman’s voice, a secret message didn’t necessarily mean an affair.
What if he were involved with the Underground Railroad? She ran through the house to the kitchen. “Mandy! Beulah!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Paul’s late-night excursions, they were to the cotton mill, where he hid freedom seekers. Am I right?”
The servants stared at her, fear in their eyes. It was enough of an answer.
“Oh no! I’ve done it again.”
But this time she’d not let fear paralyze her. She’d act.
If it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 13
As Paul drove the buggy toward town, he felt both cautious and excited. He’d hidden Samson behind the buggy seat, covered with a blanket. It was not an ideal situation, but they had a short distance to go.
Possibly, Tabitha and Samson would be reunited in a short while. He wanted to see that moment. It gave him great joy to know he had a part in making it happen. But he couldn’t let his enthusiasm cloud his judgment. It would be devastating to come so close and be discovered.
Dusk lingered. He parked at the church and waited for Joe to join him and for darkness to deepen. He quieted his nerves by humming “Amazing Grace.”
A familiar-looking, cigar-smoking man strolled his way. When the sheriff appeared with several deputies, Paul smelled the trap. He whispered, “Samson, stay low. We got trouble.”
Paul yelled, “Hie!” and snapped the whip, but it wasn’t enough. The stranger grabbed the horse’s halter, and the buggy stopped.
“Arrest him, Sheriff.”
“You got to produce the runaways first.” Sheriff Martin shook his head as he met Paul’s gaze. “This your arsonist, Paul?”
“Yep.”
“Sure do wish you’d have pressed charges. Meet Uriah Steeple, bounty hunter.”
Uriah reached into the buggy and pulled the blanket off Samson. The black man jumped out and ran. Uriah pulled out a revolver and fired.
Samson fell.
Paul tackled Uriah, but the sheriff pulled him off. “He’s within his rights, Paul. It galls me to say it, but you know it’s true.”
Uriah grinned. “Don’t figure that one’s going anywhere fast, but come with me, Sheriff. There’s more inside.”
Clancy exchanged horses for the tired mules. Emma grasped the reins, shouting, “Hie! Hie!” as Beulah and Mandy tried to stay seated in the wagon. Arriving in town, her heart stuttered. She was too late. Townspeople had gathered, most holding torches. She stopped the wagon far back from the scene.
Paul and Joe were handcuffed near the buggy. Eight people sat tied together in the church courtyard, four adults and four children. A man lay on the ground nearby, blood oozing from his leg. Heart-wrenching wails filled the air.
No one appeared to have noticed Emma’s arrival. She turned to Beulah and Mandy and whispered, “Take the wagon behind the jailhouse.” Silently, she got down.
Her mind whirling, Emma stood behind a tree, watching the scene. She had no plan. Sending the wagon behind the jailhouse was a hunch. She had no idea how it would help, other than keeping her servants safe.
“You all should know,” Uriah shouted so everyone could hear, “that I have Mrs. Trebor to thank for the success of this little roundup. She told me about the secret room at the mill and the hollow stump where I found the message. Even paid me.” He held up Emma’s pendant.
The crowd murmured, but it was the look on Paul’s face that smote Emma’s heart. She fought the urge to run to him and explain, but what could she say? Uriah was telling the truth.
“Okay, people, the show’s over. Go back to your homes.” The sheriff gestured for Paul and Joe to walk in front of him. Two deputies supported Samson. Uriah held the ropes tying the runaways together.
An idea came to Emma. It wasn’t much of one—it could backfire horribly—but she had to do something. She waited until the crowd moved away from the church then unhitched Perseus from the buggy.
Uriah’s words about Emma pierced Paul’s heart. It couldn’t be true. He looked at Joe.
“She found the secret room, boss. Mandy delivered the message to me, that’s all I know.”
So she had discovered the secret room. Had he really thought she wouldn’t look?
The procession flowed toward the jailhouse as the community followed, yelling jeers and taunts at Uriah. He grinned back then jerked on the rope he held, causing several captives to fall.
A deputy grabbed the rope from him. “Get out of here.” He brandished his gun. “If I were you, I’d find someplace to lay low. This crowd might turn any minute.”
Uriah slunk off.
Anger welled up inside Paul. He didn’t care about himself. He’d be fined a large sum, perhaps lose his home and the mill, but that was nothing compared to what these freedom seekers would endure. All would be severely punished by their masters. Some would die. Some would wish they could die.
He slowed his pace to match that of the deputies walking with Samson. “Did you see her, Samson? Tabitha is still here with the children.”
Samson stopped moving. “Not safe in Canada?” Tears coated his words.
As soon as Emma was out of town, she urged Perseus to a full gallop. A diversion was needed. Something big. Something that would force everyone to help.
Like a fire.
She couldn’t set fire to a building in town. That could be catastrophic. The whole town could suffer.
But the mill was a short distance from town.
With trembling hands, Emma touched the match flame to a ball of cotton fluff in the bale shed. She blew on the sparks then fanned the tiny tendril. When strong flames appeared, Emma mounted Perseus and raced back to town, shouting, “Fire at the mill! The cotton mill’s on fire!” She rounded the corner behind the jailhouse as the streets filled with men running for the mill.
Mandy and Beulah were still in the wagon.
“In five minutes, drive to the front.”
Emma dismounted and ran around to the front of the jailhouse. She barged in, startling the deputy on duty. “The mill is on fire! What are you doing here?”
“Somebody’s got to guard the prisoners.”
“I’ll guard them. If the mill burns, a lot of people will lose their livelihood. Go! Help!” Would the deputy trust her as a guard? He would if he believed the things Uriah said.
He hesitated.
“If you care at all for Paul, you’ll do all you can to save his mill.”
The deputy ran out—with the keys.
Emma searched the desk, the drawers, the walls for another set. Finally she found them on a hook on the inner side of the desk. She ran to the cells and unlocked the doors. “There’s a wagon waiting. Hurry. Go!” She glimpsed Paul run past, but there was no time to talk.
“Get in,” Paul yelled, and jumped on the wagon seat. Joe sat next to him. The runaways helped Samson into the back of the wagon and jumped in themselves.
“Hang on,” Paul shouted then asked Joe, “Can we get them on a ship?”
“No ships in port sailing north for two days.” Joe rubbed his forehead.
“Then our options are limited.” Paul flicked the reins again and turned the wagon toward his home. It wasn’t safe, but it might buy time until they could think of something else. Nine people bounced in the back of the wagon as
Paul raced home.
When Paul stopped in front of the manor, Joe’s brow furrowed. “Inside the house? Not the stable?”
“I want them in my home. And I’ll shoot anyone who tries to come after them.”
Emma rode Perseus down the road to the mill. On the way she passed the path to the creek and noted Uriah’s dapple gray under a tree. She’d like to stop and give Mr. Steeple a piece of her mind, but more important was saving the mill—from the fire she started.
A water brigade was already set up, and she joined the ranks, risking recognition by the deputy. But she had to help. It was her husband’s mill.
The bale shed was destroyed. Windows were broken in the main building, but it was made of brick and less susceptible to fire damage.
Had anyone recognized her as she rode through town shouting, “Fire”? She counted on the darkness, the surprise, and her horse’s speed to disguise her. If she were suspected of alerting the town, there would be a lot of questions to answer.
With the fire out, men milled about. Emma shrank back into the shadows. Most of them had heard Uriah’s accusations, and some probably believed him. Helping put out the fire would not vindicate her. She listened to the chatter.
“Wonder how it started.”
“Hey, I saw that Steeple’s horse on the path to the creek.”
“Think he did it?”
“He tried once before.”
“Why’d he want to burn the mill?”
“Punish Paul for helping the freedom seekers.”
“Who else could it be? Nobody in town has anything against Paul.”
“You say you saw him by the creek? Let’s go.”
Emma rode back to town and waited in the sheriff’s chair for the deputy’s return.
“Hey! What happened here?” The sheriff walked in smelling of smoke. “Mrs. Trebor, can you tell me why you are here and the prisoners are not?” He shoved a handcuffed Uriah Steeple into a cell and locked it.
“Yes, sir, I can. The mill was on fire, and I wanted every able-bodied person to help fight it, so I badgered your deputy to let me guard them.”
Uriah shouted from his cell, “You got to arrest her, Sheriff! She let my runaways go!”
The sheriff planted his hands on his hips and faced Uriah. “Now why would she do that? According to you, she went to a lot of trouble to help you round them up. Don’t make sense that she’d let them go.”
“I confess, Sheriff, that I didn’t stay to guard them. I thought about the fire and my husband’s mill, and I had to help, so I left my post and went to the mill. Can you arrest me for deserting my post?” Emma rose from the chair.
“No, Mrs. Trebor. You are not a deputy. You didn’t have a post to desert.”
Uriah rattled the cell bars. “Somebody let my runaways go. I want them back.”
“It could have been most anyone in town. Without a clue, I’m not going to waste my time investigating.” The sheriff sat in his chair. “Why don’t you go on home, Mrs. Trebor? It’s been a long night.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. But one more thing. What has Mr. Steeple done that you’ve arrested him?”
“Arson. Started the fire at the mill. I’ll keep him in custody till Paul can come in and press charges.”
Emma’s conscience bothered her as she drove the buggy home. Uriah was in jail for the fire she’d started. She’d have to go back and confess, of course—after the freedom seekers were safely on their way to Canada.
Chapter 14
Emma wasn’t surprised when she arrived home to a houseful of strangers. She laughed aloud to see children in her daughters’ rooms.
But there was Paul to face. He had wanted to talk before the night’s debacle. Did he even want to see her now? She went to her room and prayed. “I misjudged my husband. You tried to tell me. My distrust led to disaster. Thank You for rescuing me.”
At the knock on her door, she rose. Paul entered her room.
Emma’s throat constricted. Sweat coated her palms. She waited for him to speak but kept her gaze on the floor. She couldn’t bear his censure tonight.
“Can we talk?”
She nodded.
They sat on the window seat.
“How much of what Uriah said was true?” His voice was neither accusing nor tender.
“All of it. I didn’t know you were hiding freedom seekers. I thought you were having an affair. I uncovered secrets and told Steeple because I thought it would expose your mistress.” Emma’s head remained bowed. “I’m so sorry.”
“When did you discover I had no mistress?”
“After you left this evening, Steeple came and urged me to accompany him, but I refused. He turned ugly, and if it hadn’t been for Clancy, I may have been in danger. Then I put the clues together in a different way. We—myself, Beulah, and Mandy—came as quickly as we could to warn you, but I was too late.”
“That’s what Mandy said.”
The room fell silent. Emma could not look up. She couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t endure his disapproval. She should have known better than to entertain thoughts of his infidelity. He was a good, good man. Better than she deserved.
Paul broke the silence. “Mandy also told me another story. One that happened twenty years ago.”
Emma glanced up. “But she doesn’t believe it.”
“She does now. And I do too.” He took her hands in his. “I was wrong not to ask your side of the story. I was wrong to think so ill of you. Will you forgive me?”
“Yes! Can you forgive me?”
Paul took her in his arms. Their tears mingled as their hearts re-joined.
He whispered in her ear, “Can we start over, Emma?”
She leaned into his embrace.
“Do you love me, Emma?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She smothered his face with kisses until she found his mouth, and a long-overdue passion built.
Early the next morning, Paul rode into town, waved at Uriah through the jailhouse window, then stopped at the Presbyterian church. After speaking with Reverend Bachus a few minutes, he left, smiling, and returned to the manor.
He found Mandy in the kitchen, whispered instructions to her, then bounded upstairs, taking two steps at a time.
Samson swung open his door before Paul had a chance to knock. “Something wrong?” Worry lines creased his face.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” Paul entered the room Samson shared with another male freedom seeker and shut the door. “Been through a lot lately, haven’t we?”
The men nodded, their eyes cautious.
“But today is for celebrating.”
Samson shook his head. “We ain’t in Canada yet.”
“That’s true. But the bounty hunter is in jail and Sheriff Martin won’t be letting him out anytime soon. No one knows you are here. I say we celebrate, Samson, with a wedding.”
“You mean today?”
“What’s Canada got that we can’t provide right here, this afternoon?”
“Yes, sir!” Samson almost danced a jig, but for his wounded leg. “Have you spoken to Tabitha?”
Paul grinned. “Didn’t think that my place.”
Samson raced down the hall as if his gunshot wound didn’t exist.
Emma’s brow furrowed as Beulah entered her room, wedding dress in her arms.
“Do you think we could use this again?”
“I suppose, but I’m confused.” Emma fingered the smooth satin fabric. “Who?”
Beulah explained about Samson and Tabitha. “They want to get married today, right here. I think this will fit her.”
Joy flowed through Emma. “Of course! Bring her in, have her try it on.”
Delectable smells of fresh-baked bread and roasted chicken wafted through the manor as Mandy put the freedom seekers to work helping her prepare a wedding feast.
Paul found Emma gathering the few remaining mums from the garden for Tabitha’s bridal bouquet. She blushed as his gaze met hers, and he took her in his arms again.
/> “Joe has secured passage for our guests. They’ll leave around midnight on a ship going to Canada.”
“So we just have to keep them safe until then.”
Paul nodded then whispered in her ear. “Emma, will you marry me—again?”
A few unexpected guests showed up with Reverend Bachus. Mrs. Linde and Mrs. Potter embraced Emma, tears glistening. “Forgive us?” they asked.
She kissed their cheeks. Everything she’d ever wanted was coming true.
After Reverend Bachus united Tabitha and Samson, Paul and Emma stood before him.
She held Paul’s hands as the reverend blessed them. Gazing into Paul’s eyes, she felt his intensity. Never again would she doubt his devotion. This wonderful man loved her, and now trusted her as well.
If the guests were confused by the double wedding, they kept it to themselves, for one thing was obvious to everyone: underground weddings were the best of all.
Barbara Tifft Blakey lives in the Pacific Northwest on five wooded acres with Terry, her husband of forty-plus years. She is best known for her award-winning, literature-inspired language arts program, Total Language Plus, which she created over twenty years ago and is used by thousands of homeschoolers. Barbara teaches Sunday school and enjoys speaking on various topics to Christian women’s groups. She and her husband have four grown children and five grandchildren. She enjoys camping at the ocean and is an avid soccer fan. During the daylight-challenged winter months, she reads, crochets, bakes, and plots her next novel.
Follow the Christmas Star
by Ramona K. Cecil
Chapter 1
Madison, Indiana
1850
Ah, don’t cry, Dahlia.” Edith reached out and brushed away the tear meandering down the little girl’s dusky cheek, her heart crumpling. “I’ll be back every Tuesday to teach you and the other children.” She gave Dahlia a brave smile. “And maybe you can come visit me in Lancaster.”
Dahlia sniffed and ran her hand under her nose. She looked up from wrapping Mother’s prized alabaster vase in an outdated edition of the Madison Courier, fresh tears glistening in her sad brown eyes. “I know, but it won’t be the same. I won’t be able to come and see you whenever I want to like I do now.”
The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War Page 7