The question that had earlier nibbled at Edith’s curiosity but was later lost in the evening’s events bubbled again to the surface. “You’ve traveled here only a handful of times. However did you find your way to within a mile of the house in the dark?”
Dahlia shrugged again. “I just followed the Christmas Star.”
Edith couldn’t help grinning. “You mean you followed the North Star.”
Dahlia frowned and shook her head. “No, it wasn’t the North Star. It was brighter.” She gave an emphatic nod and pointed to the ceiling. “It was in the sky, right over this house. It’s Christmastime, so I know God put the Christmas Star in the sky to guide me here.”
Edith smiled. “I’m sure you are right, Dahlia. Now you must go on to bed. Ida and I will tend to Mr. Beaumont, and early in the morning Mr. Applegate will take you back to Madison when he goes to fetch Dr. Morgan.”
Throughout the night and next morning, Edith and Ida fought the fever ravaging Wade and prayed for God’s mercy and healing. When Dr. Morgan finally arrived and removed the bullet from Wade’s shoulder, a measure of the anxiety gripping Edith drained away.
Dr. Morgan smiled over at Edith as he washed the blood from his hands in the pan of warm water she’d brought a moment earlier. “The bullet came out cleanly and the fever is down. He should make a full recovery.”
“See, I told ya.” Ida crossed her arms over her chest. “I told ya the onions would work.”
Dr. Morgan dried his hands on a towel and rolled down his shirtsleeves. A grin teased at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, I think you can take those poultices off now.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Wade muttered in a raspy voice. “Dreamed I was lost in an onion field.”
Tears of relief sprang into Edith’s eyes as she hurried to the bedside. “You’re awake.”
Dr. Morgan shrugged his coat onto his six-foot frame. “I’d say it’s not onion fields, but slave hunters you need to avoid, Mr. Beaumont.” He eased his low-crowned beaver hat over his black hair. “It may relieve your mind to know that I have it on good authority that the three slave hunters who’ve been poking around Madison for the last month or so were seen early this morning embarking a sternwheeler headed south.”
“Thank you, Dr. Morgan,” Edith managed past the wad of relieved tears gathering in her throat. While other slave hunters might come to Madison in the future, she doubted that Jube Beaumont would ever return. How two men so different could be brothers strained her understanding. She smiled down at Wade, and her pulse quickened when he returned her smile and gripped her hand.
When Dr. Morgan had gone and Ida went to the kitchen to begin the noon meal, Edith sat on the chair at Wade’s bedside. Guilt at thinking he had colluded with Jube and the other slave hunters pressed hard on her heart. “I’m sorry I mistrusted you.” She lifted her gaze from her clasped hands in her lap to his dear face, blurred by her tears. “Can you forgive me?”
Wade reached out, took her hand, and pressed it to his lips. “As I told you at the Christmas party, there is nothing to forgive. Through you I’ve found the purpose for which, I believe, God has brought me to Jefferson County, Indiana.” He licked his lips and turned a distant look toward the window on the south wall. “All her life my mother hated slavery, but she felt powerless to change it.” His smile turned sad. “She often said she hoped that someday I could.” He looked at Edith. “For three years I wandered without purpose. I forgot the words from Proverbs that Ma always quoted; ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’ Last night I felt God’s direction, His hand of purpose on me. For that, I like to think my mother is smiling in heaven.”
“Perhaps she and my mother are smiling together.” Her heart throbbing, Edith squeezed his hand. “My mother liked that verse too. She always said that we will never get lost if we just look for God’s guiding light.” She met his smile with her own. “Last night Dahlia told me she saw a bright star in the sky that led her to the house, and she’s sure it was the Christmas Star God had put there to guide her.”
He gave a little laugh. “I believe Dahlia, because God used a star to bring me to you, the steamboat River Star.”
His eyes widened as recollection bloomed on his face. “I’d completely forgotten.” He shifted his gaze to the chair in the corner of the room that held his clothes. “Look in the inside pocket of my coat and you’ll find something I have for you.”
Bemused, Edith did as he asked and found a small black velvet box.
His voice turned as soft as the fabric covering the spring-hinged casket. “Open it up. It’s for you.”
Edith lifted the box’s lid and gave a soft gasp at the lovely oval-shaped porcelain pendant decorated with a sprig of painted purple asters. The sight misted through her gathering tears. “Oh, Wade, it is beautiful. Thank you.”
“When I saw it I thought of you and that day last October when we picked the asters together.” His voice gentled. “And I thought of our mothers.”
Edith walked to his bedside, love and regret curling together in her chest. “I’m sorry I have no Christmas gift for you.”
He reached for her free hand. “Perhaps you do. All I want is your love, my darling, if you’re willing to give it.” His intense gaze felt as if it reached all the way to her soul. “Last night God gave me my purpose. Today I pray He gives me you. I want to devote the rest of my life to helping those in bondage find freedom, and I want to do it with you by my side. Edith Applegate, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Tears gushed as Edith’s heart overflowed with love and joy. Nodding, she managed to murmur, “Yes,” through her tears, then bent to allow her intended to seal their engagement with a kiss.
Behind her, she heard Ida twitter and whisper, “Praise Jesus.”
The next day—Christmas Day—Wade insisted on rising from his sickbed to join Edith and Father in seeing Sam, Ida, Joe, and Simon off to the next station.
While the men exchanged handshakes, Ida gave Edith a hug and whispered in her ear, “He’s a good man. Now you take good care of him, ya hear?” She leaned back out of the hug and smiled into Edith’s face. “I’ll be prayin’ for you.”
Fighting tears, Edith pulled Ida in for another hug. “And I will be praying for you.” She wiped a tear from her cheek that she couldn’t hold back. “I so wish I could see your baby when it’s born.”
Ida glanced north across the snow-covered countryside. “And I’d love for you to see her, but this is way too close to the line. We got to keep goin’ north.” She grinned and put her hand on her extended belly. “For some time now I’ve been feelin’ this baby’s a girl. If I’m right, maybe I’ll name her Dahlia.”
“Dahlia would love that.” A new spate of tears washed down Edith’s face.
For the next several minutes Edith and Wade stood on the porch with their arms twined around each other as they and Father watched the four travelers climb into the hay wagon of another conductor on the Underground Railroad.
“They will make it to Canada; I know it.” Father’s declaration rang with confidence. “Can’t think of a better Christmas gift than that.” He grinned at Edith and Wade. “Except maybe knowing that I’ll be gaining a new son in the coming year.” He glanced southward then turned back to Edith and Wade. “Speaking of gifts, I’d like to give the two of you the house in Madison for a wedding present.”
Overcome with emotion, Edith could find no words as she gave her father a hug that nearly toppled him. The thought that she’d be returning to the home she loved and be sharing it with the man she loved seemed like a blessing too abundant to comprehend.
Wade shook Father’s hand. “Thank you, sir, but, like I told Edith, I plan to devote the rest of my life to helping people escape bondage. Won’t you need us here to help with this station?”
Father shook his head. “Between the institute and the abolitionists in Georgetown, I’
ll have plenty of help. And you both will play an important part in the abolition movement from the house in Madison.” He smiled at Edith. “As your mother used to say, my dear, we’ll always find our way in life if we follow God’s guiding light.”
Wade squeezed Edith’s waist and gazed into her eyes, his blue ones shining with love. “Or as Dahlia said, follow the Christmas Star.”
Ramona K. Cecil is a wife, mother, grandmother, freelance poet, and award-winning inspirational romance writer. Now empty nesters, she and her husband make their home in Indiana. A member of American Christian Fiction Writers and American Christian Fiction Writers Indiana Chapter, her work has won awards in a number of inspirational writing contests. Over eighty of her inspirational verses have been published on a wide array of items for the Christian gift market. She enjoys a speaking ministry, sharing her journey to publication while encouraging aspiring writers. When not writing, she enjoys reading, gardening, and visiting places of historical interest.
Under the Sails of Love
by Lynn A. Coleman
Chapter 1
Savannah, Georgia
1860
Come quick,” Charlotte whispered, signaling for the runaway slaves to hide in the old childhood fort. She’d been hiding men and women there for six months. Soon it would be too hot, and her family would be leaving the plantation for their summer residence in downtown Savannah. Slaves were like cattle and oxen to her father. He didn’t see them as equal to him or anyone with lighter-colored skin. The slaves stayed behind year after year and worked in the rice fields. It was hard and hot work. Worse, they never earned a penny for their labor. Over the past couple of years, Charlotte had become convicted that slavery was wrong and that slaves were real human beings—not chattel to serve her or others. She had no problem with servants if they were paid for their work and treated respectfully.
Her frustration had grown to the point where it overflowed.
“Quick, get in here.” Charlotte held back the covering that hid the small mound where men and women could hide and have a safe place to sleep for the night. She’d taken her childhood fort and converted it to aid the slaves in their quest for freedom. Unfortunately, she never knew if one or more of them made it to the North, but she hoped and prayed they would.
The small family huddled in. “I’ll bring some food when it’s safe,” she whispered, and closed the door-like opening and reset the fallen branches and Spanish moss to keep it from appearing as anything more than an old forgotten heap.
She quickened her pace. Her parents would begin to wonder where she’d been if she didn’t make an appearance within the next few minutes.
“Miss Charlotte, you best be gettin’ yourself over here. Come on.” Maggie was the house slave who had been cooking for the Kimbrels since before Charlotte’s birth.
“Coming. I lost track of time.”
“Uh-huh, I’s knows what you be doin’. Don’t you be—” Maggie stopped for a moment. “Come and get it, Miss Charlotte. I cooked some mighty nice vittles for you this evening. The house sure does smell real good.”
“Charlotte,” her mother’s voice called out. “What are you doing out there?”
“Sorry, Mama. I was down by the river and lost track of time.”
“Maggie, make sure she’s cleaned up. James Tyler is coming to dinner. With any luck he might just find Charlotte desirable and set his cap for her.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes but kept her peace. Her parents could not find out what she’d been doing. If they did, they’d marry her off to the first man possible.
Her mother nodded and headed toward the dining room.
“Git in here!” Maggie pushed her through the doorway. “What am I’s goin’ to do with you?”
“I’m fine.”
“And the good Lord Hisself is the only One who can look over fools.” Maggie wagged her head. “Git to your room, and I’ll be there to tighten that corset. I’s set your lime-green dress out for tonight’s dinner.”
“Thank you, Maggie.”
Charlotte headed up to her room. The only real question she had was whether her own slaves knew what she was up to. Had they helped the other slaves in the past six months? It was a risk to ask. It was safest if no one knew for certain.
Charlotte undressed and cleaned up at the basin and pitcher of water always placed fresh each morning in her room. No doubt she lived a pampered life. From sunup to sundown she didn’t have a thought or worry that couldn’t be handled by one of her father’s slaves. Charlotte sighed.
She stepped into the dress laid out on her bed to prevent wrinkles. She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten the corset. No dignified Southern lady would dress without a corset, not for something as formal as a dinner with guests. She removed the dress in time for Maggie to slip in through the servants’ corridor. “I’s here, Miss Charlotte.”
In no time, the corset was laced, the dress on, and a fresh pair of shoes adorned her feet, unlike the mud-caked ones she’d had on earlier. “You’s look real fine, Miss Charlotte. Mr. James…he be a fool not to notice.”
“Thank you, Maggie, but I hope he doesn’t notice too much.” James Tyler wasn’t a bad man, as far as she knew, but he was twenty years her senior and had a belly that extended far more than one should.
“Trust the Lord, miss. He knows what’s best.”
Charlotte bit her lip. How did God allow such cruelty to slaves? Then she reminded herself of the story in the Bible of the people of Israel and how long they were captive in Egypt.
The doorbell rang. Charlotte shuffled out of her room and down the stairs. Two men stood in the entrance, James Tyler and a rather handsome younger man. Charlotte couldn’t help herself and smiled. Tonight should be an enjoyable evening.
“Mr. Tyler, a pleasure, and who might this gentleman be?” Mother asked as Father shook Mr. Tyler’s hand.
“May I introduce you to Captain Zachery Browne. He hails from the North, but we won’t hold that against him.” James Tyler laughed at his own joke. No one else responded in kind. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a guest. Captain Browne is leaving port in the morning, and I thought he might be able to help you with some of your transportation costs. He’s offering me quite a fair price for my exports.”
“Always happy to meet a potential business contact,” Father said as he shook the captain’s hand.
Charlotte’s four other siblings entered the room. Davis, two years her junior and just like their father; followed by Randall, two years younger than Davis. Pearl, the only other daughter, was suffering the afflictions of being sixteen years old. Last but not least, Stew, who broke the two-year pattern by showing up ten years ago, four years after Pearl. Of all her siblings, Charlotte spent most of her time with Stew.
Father gave the introductions as they all stood there in line and smiled. Respect and manners were of high importance in the Kimbrel household. After a few social pleasantries in the parlor, all were called to the dinner table. Mr. Tyler’s place card sat next to Charlotte’s. The servants had added another setting for Captain Browne. Before anyone noticed, Charlotte placed Mr. Tyler’s place card at a new setting then scurried back to her own chair and set Captain Browne’s next to hers.
Stew was on her right. Captain Browne on her left. Charlotte glanced across the table and caught her mother’s eye. She hadn’t fooled anyone. Mother was wise to the subterfuge. Conversation was polite until Captain Browne said, “No, sir, I do not have any slaves working for me.”
Zachery tried to be polite. The evening had been tolerable. But he found it difficult to hide his emotions on the slave issue, which was why the owners of the shipping company were hinting this might be his last run to any of the Southern states. More and more Northern shipping companies were avoiding the South. Tensions were rising in the country with regard to slavery. Zach saw it. His bosses saw it. He felt the Southerners saw it too. Perhaps it was even worse in the South, judging from Mr. Kimbrel’s reddening face.
Miss Charlotte squirmed in her seat.
Davis stood and threw his cloth napkin on his plate. “I ask you to leave, sir!”
Zachery wiped his mouth with his own napkin and nodded. “Forgive me for insulting you. I merely voiced that I do not have slaves working on my ship. I am captain of a Northern vessel, and we have a policy against it. And since it is not my ship, I am obliged to respect my bosses’ directives.”
“Sit down, Davis,” Mr. Kimbrel said. “I understand your plight, Captain Browne. No offense is taken. We are sensitive to the Northern intrusion. We do not have children working in our factories. Each state, North or South, has their own version of slave labor. Don’t you agree?”
Zachery didn’t want to agree but couldn’t argue the point. He didn’t believe in children working in factories as much as he didn’t agree with a man owning another man. “Fair enough.” He held up his wineglass and turned it toward his host. He knew he shouldn’t have come to dinner tonight, but he had to keep James Tyler preoccupied for the evening while his men took care of some business. For the past year he’d been running hidden cargo on his ship, and while he knew his time of sailing slaves to freedom was coming to an end, he didn’t want to go home empty-handed.
Placated, his host and the oldest son calmed down. The conversation shifted. James engaged their host.
“Is that really your position on slavery?” Charlotte whispered.
“I take it you have different views?”
Charlotte nodded then smiled. “Tell me about your ship, Captain Browne.” She glanced in the direction of her mother. Zach caught on. “She’s a fine vessel. She was built in Bath, Maine. As you may or may not be aware, Bath has one of the richest histories in building wooden boats. The Lady Grace is one of theirs. She’s fifty-seven feet long and has a width of twenty feet. Her draw is low at six feet. She can’t go too far up the Savannah, but there are some rivers she can sail in.”
“How long have you been a captain?” Randall asked.
The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War Page 15