by Jack Ford
“Fair question.” Turner nodded. “Best I can tell you is that I’d be very confident in your chances.”
“Very confident, but not certain?”
“That’s correct,” Turner said. “But confident enough that I would most certainly be willing to take your case on. If you asked, of course,” he added hastily.
Mary let out a deep sigh and then began to gather up the papers from the lawyer’s desk. “Thank you, Mr. Turner,” she said as she stood. “You have been a great help. And you have given me a great deal to think about. I suspect I’ll be back in touch with you soon.”
“Good day to you, Mrs. Maddox,” Turner said as he escorted her to the door. “Please feel free to call on me anytime.”
“Good day, sir. And thank you again,” Mary said as she stepped outside.
Instead of turning right toward the fence where her horse and two-seater carriage were tethered, Mary turned left and began to walk in the other direction. After picking her way carefully along the rutted lane and around the piles of horse manure, and threading her way through the crowds, she stopped in front of the courthouse. The sight should have reassured her, she thought. The solid redbrick structure, with the impressive white doorway and the imposing wood and leaded glass steeple standing watch over the small village, had always seemed so powerful, so symbolic of the notions of fairness and justice. And yet, even though she knew completely in her heart that her Samuel would never have left his nephew in control of any part of his estate, Zephania Turner could not provide her with the absolute assurance that she would win her case inside that building. Probably, he had said, but not definitely.
So then, she asked herself as she gazed at the courthouse, what do I do now?
CHAPTER 19
“IS YOUR MISTRESS AT HOME?” MARY ASKED THE YOUNG SLAVE GIRL.
“Yes’m,” the girl answered as she pulled the great carved oak door open and stepped aside to let Mary enter.
“Thank you,” Mary said, stepping into the spacious center hall, which ran the length of the house.
The girl gestured toward a set of double doors that opened into the sitting room, but Mary shook her head.
“Thank you, but I’ll just wait here for her.”
The girl nodded and then scampered up the curved, cascading staircase to fetch her mistress.
Fanny Withers appeared a moment later and glided swiftly down the stairs to greet her.
“Mary,” she exclaimed, obviously delighted to see her friend. “I’m so happy you’re here. Why didn’t you let me know . . . ?” Her voice trailed off as she noticed Mary’s somber, worried expression.
“I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” Mary said hesitantly.
“Nonsense. Are you all right?” Fanny asked, clasping Mary’s hands in hers.
“I’m not sure,” Mary answered, her eyes flitting about the hallway. “I’m not sure,” she repeated.
“Here, come and sit with me and we can talk,” Fanny said solicitously, putting her arm around Mary’s shoulders and turning her in the direction of the sitting room.
Mary resisted and turned toward the front door. “Could we talk outside?”
“Certainly,” Fanny said, puzzled, as she placed her arm inside Mary’s and guided her out the door. They crossed the veranda, descended the sweeping porch steps, and walked toward a nearby stand of trees.
Fanny led them into the small grove, toward a wrought-iron bench. The grove was the Withers family grave site, a manicured lawn set beneath a canopy of gracious elms, dotted with a platoon of headstones, most smudged and worn by time and the elements, marking the final resting places of generations of family members.
“Let’s sit here,” Fanny said, easing Mary down onto the bench.
They sat silently for a few moments, Fanny waiting patiently for her friend, as Mary was clearly wrestling with her thoughts. Finally, Mary squared her shoulders and spoke.
“I think I have to leave,” Mary said.
“But you just got here,” Fanny protested, bewildered.
“I mean, I have to leave the farm. Leave Virginia.”
“I don’t understand,” Fanny said, shaking her head. “Why would you have to leave here? Leave your home?”
Mary took a deep breath and looked off into the distance. “I met with Zeph Turner, the lawyer, about Sam’s claims that he has some right to Samuel’s estate,” she began hesitantly.
“And?” Fanny prodded.
Mary turned now to face her friend. “And he said he thought that, push comes to shove, I’d win in court.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Fanny asked.
“Yes . . . but he couldn’t guarantee it. Said we’d probably win, but he was a little worried by some language that’s a bit unclear. And that was the problem.”
“What kind of language? And what does it mean?” Fanny asked.
“Language that, if a court agrees with Sam, gives him a say in anything I’d want to do with the estate. With the land. The property. The slaves. Everything. Heard he’s already tried to pledge the slaves as collateral for some of his debts.”
“But if Mr. Turner thinks that you’ll win . . . ,” Fanny began, trying her best to sound reassuring.
“Thinking I’ll win is a whole bunch different from being certain that I’ll win,” Mary said, exasperated. “A whole bunch different. I don’t know that I can run the risk—however small—of losing if that means Sam gets his hands on everything.”
“Don’t see that you’ve got much of a choice,” Fanny answered. “Seems like you’ve got to trust that the court’ll do the right thing. And Zeph Turner’s a good lawyer—and a good man. I think you can trust him. Besides,” she added, “what other choice do you have?”
“There is another choice,” Mary said soberly.
Fanny stared at her quizzically, her eyebrows raised.
“I can leave here. Not for good. But just for now. Before a court gets involved.”
“What? Leave here?” Fanny asked. “Why? And go where?”
“I’ve thought this through very carefully,” Mary said. “And I think it’s the only answer. I’ve got to leave here and take Kitty and her children with me. Go someplace where I can set her free. And then I can come back and deal with Sam.”
“But how can running away be the answer?” Fanny pleaded. “Sam will surely come looking for you. And what about the court? You’d be violating a court order. How do you ever come back and not go to jail?”
Mary took a deep breath and continued. “You know that I’ve decided to free Kitty and her children, and you know why. I’ve tried to make my peace with her over selling off her mother, and I’ve promised her that I will never let the same thing happen to her and her family. But if Sam got some control over the estate, you can bet that he’d sell her and those children without givin’ it a second thought. Especially if he’s hard up for cash. And if there’s even the remotest chance of a court ruling in his favor, I just can’t wait around and let that happen.”
Fanny thought for a moment. “Have you told Kitty yet? About planning on setting her free?”
Mary nodded. “I told her. And I told her why, about how sorry I am that we sent her mother away. And how I will never let that happen to her again.”
“And?”
“Don’t think she believes me yet,” Mary said, shaking her head ruefully. “Why should she? After what I did to her? But that’s exactly why I can’t run the risk of losing,” she added, her jaw clenching. “I can’t allow that to happen to her again. And this time, I won’t. I’ll do whatever I have to do—if it means leaving everything—to free her. Whatever I have to do!”
“Have you talked this over with the lawyer?” Fanny asked.
Mary shook her head. “I don’t want anyone else to know about this. Besides, I can’t imagine he’d advise me that it’s all right for me to ignore a court injunction and just run away,” she said.
“So, what will you do about coming back after you’ve freed Ki
tty?” Fanny asked.
Mary offered a grim smile. “I’ve decided I’d rather ask for forgiveness later, when I return, than ask for permission now.”
Fanny shook her head. “This just doesn’t seem right.”
Mary began to speak, but Fanny held her hand up to silence her.
“Wait. Just listen to me a minute,” Fanny insisted. “I understand your feelings about Kitty. And what you did to her and her mother. I truly do. But,” she added, exasperated, “you can’t just throw your whole life away because of what happened years ago.”
Again, Mary tried to interrupt, but Fanny stopped her.
“Let me finish. Please! Mary, you can’t just go running off and freeing slaves just like that. Not when a court tells you to hold on. Even if you think it’s the right thing to do.” Fanny paused, struggling with her thoughts, and took Mary’s hands in hers. “Maybe it seems like it’s the right thing. For you and for Kitty. But you can’t just ignore the law and go running off. You do that, makes you no better’n those abolitionists up north, who want to come down here and steal our slaves so they can set them free!”
“But this is different,” Mary insisted.
“Maybe to you it is. But to most everyone else round here, it’s not going to look that way. Mary,” Fanny implored, “this is our way of life. This is who we are. What’ll my slaves—and everybody else’s slaves—think when they hear that you just up and vanished with Kitty and her children after a court said you need to figure out who owns them? What kind of message will that send? Folks round her are still on edge after that Nat Turner and his slave mob murdered all those people a few years back. And if they hear that someone like you—someone who’s lived and worked here all your life, someone they knew and trusted—up and ran away so she could free some of her slaves, spitting in the face of the law and our traditions, what’ll they be thinking? Certainly not gonna be welcoming you back with open arms. And the court might just throw you in jail when you come back.”
The women were silent for a moment.
“Is all of that worth it?” Fanny finally asked, exasperated. “Leaving your home? Risking jail? Is that what Samuel would have wanted?”
Mary chuckled. “Samuel’d probably say I was a damn fool. And maybe I am. Sure as hell everyone else’ll think so. But we ruined Kitty’s life once before, when Samuel got rid of her mother. And I’ll have to reconcile all that when I face my God sometime soon—sooner than later, I expect. Don’t think we’re given many chances in this life to make up for our sins—to really make up for them, rather than just saying how sorry we are for committing them in the first place. But I believe—I truly believe—that this is God saying to me, ‘Let’s just see how truly sorry you are for what you did. And now that you got a chance, what’re you going to do about it?’ And,” she added wistfully, “seems like Kitty and her children are really the only family I got left now that Samuel’s gone.”
“Well, then,” Fanny said after a long silence, “damn it all, I just can’t agree with you. I think you’re wrong. I think it’s a terrible idea and you’ll live to regret it.” She paused and gave an exasperated shrug. “But you’re my friend—my very dear friend—and I’m trying to understand. I really am.” Fanny straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’m deathly afraid we’ll both regret this . . . but you’ve always helped me in my time of need. Really the only one I’ve been able to count on since my mother died. So I guess now it’s my turn. You can count on me,” she added, now mirroring her friend’s determination. “Whatever you need me to do to make this work. And God help us both!”
The two women embraced.
“So then, tell me about this plan,” Fanny said as they separated. “And what I can do to help.”
CHAPTER 20
“RUN AWAY? ALL OF US? AND YOU, TOO?” KITTY ASKED, HER TONE a mix of anxiety and bewilderment.
They were seated around the small table in Ol’ Joshua’s cabin. Concerned about the possibility of anyone overhearing any discussion about her plan, Mary had insisted that they meet here, where there was less chance of prying eyes and ears, rather than in the farmhouse.
“I can’t see any other way,” Mary said firmly, looking first at Kitty and then at Ol’ Joshua. “If we stay, there’s a chance that a court will rule against me. And if that happens, I might not be able to protect you. Or the children. Knowing Sam, first thing he’d do is go sellin’ you off to pay down his debts. Probably then try to sell the farm, too.” She shook her head. “Can’t risk that.”
“But where would we go? And how would we get there?” Kitty asked.
“I’ve worked out a plan, with Miss Fanny’s help. She’s the only other person—other than us here—who knows what we’re doing. And it must stay that way. Nobody else can know!”
Both Kitty and Ol’ Joshua nodded solemnly.
“We need to leave within the next few days. We’ll all travel together. Fanny’s giving us a horse and carriage that should be able to carry us and the children and some belongings. But we can’t take much.”
“The first few days’ll be the mos’ dangerous,” Ol’ Joshua said. “Lotsa folks’ll be lookin’ for you. Lookin’ hard.” It was apparent he was still not convinced that all of them running away was a good idea. “Where y’all go first?”
“We’ve laid out a route. At least for the start of the trip. Fanny has spoken—in confidence, of course—to someone who’s familiar with these things and is going to provide us with the names of folks who are willing to help. Provide us with food and shelter.”
Kitty and Ol’ Joshua shot each other a suspicious glance. “Why’s Miss Fanny so anxious to help us?” Kitty said. “She owns more slaves than anyone round these parts. I know she’s your friend and all, but just doesn’t make much sense that she’d want to help other slaves to run off. What if word gets out that she’s helpin’ us? Can’t be good for her!”
“Because she is my friend. And because she knows how important this is to me,” Mary said, looking directly at Kitty.
“So, then,” Kitty asked after a moment, “where we headin’?”
“First stop will be a church outside Warrenton,” Mary said. “Eventually, we’ll head to Pennsylvania. Once we get there, we’ll figure out how to go about settin’ you all free.”
After Kitty and Ol’ Joshua exchanged quick glances, Mary said knowingly, “Suppose that’s where you were headin’ when you ran off?”
Kitty nodded.
“We’ll be told when we get there where we’ll go next,” Mary continued. “Apparently, there’s a number of secret routes—names and places—that’re used for these escapes. Whole journey even has a name, I’m told. Called the Underground Railroad. Not a real railroad, mind you, but rather places—mostly churches and homes, especially Quaker homes—where folks’ll hide you and look after you before passing you on to the next stop.”
Mary shot a curious look at Ol’ Joshua. “Do you know about all of this, Joshua? About this Underground Railroad?” she asked.
The old man just shrugged enigmatically, his ancient, sad, rheumy eyes revealing nothing.
“But can all these people be trusted?” asked Kitty. “I’ve seen the signs posted all over, offerin’ money—lots of money—for help capturin’ runaway slaves. Why would these folks—strangers who don’t know us from Adam—want to help us when they could be makin’ lots of money by turnin’ us in?” She paused. “Don’t make no sense.”
Mary looked again to Ol’ Joshua. “Joshua?” she said.
But the old man simply shrugged once again.
“Fanny’s been assured that these folks’ll look after us. That we can trust them. Many of them have been doin’ this for years, helpin’ slaves escape to the North. They’re not in it for money. They won’t take anything from us for helpin’. Claim they’re doin’ God’s work,” Mary said, with a touch of skepticism seeping into her voice.
Kitty looked at Mary carefully, her head cocked quizzically. “And you’re all fine
workin’ with these people? People who are hopin’ to do away with slavery? People who wanna help steal your ‘property’ and set your slaves free? To end slavery for good? That’s all fine with you?” Kitty asked reproachfully. “And with Miss Fanny?”
Mary said nothing for a time and stared into the fireplace, almost as if she had not heard Kitty’s questions. Finally, she spoke, her eyes still locked on the dancing flames and sparking embers.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “A month ago, I probably would’ve said that those people were meddlers and should be arrested and thrown in jail. Whether you believe in slavery or not, it’s the law down here. It’s our way of life. Don’t know if it’s ever gonna change—even if deep down I think it should. But until it changes, the law says if you help take someone else’s property, you should be punished. But now . . .” Her voice trailed off. After a moment, she looked into Kitty’s eyes, and a small, almost sad smile etched itself across her face.
“But now,” she continued, “I don’t care about slavery or state’s rights or anything else. I don’t care about our way of life or what my neighbors will think of me. I care only about getting you and the children away to a safe place. Someplace where Sam and the Virginia courts can’t get their hands on you.” She sighed. “So, yes, I’m fine with them helpin’ us.”
“And what happens if we get caught?” asked Kitty.
“We can’t let that happen,” said Mary.
CHAPTER 21
IT WAS NEARING MIDNIGHT WHEN THE CARRIAGE, DRAWN BY A SINGLE horse, drove up the drive to the Maddox farm. Fanny Withers sat on the front seat, reins in hand, and skillfully guided the horse to a stop at the front porch. The carriage was beautifully crafted, with spring-cushioned wheels meant for comfortable traveling, not for farmwork. A passenger compartment, with facing leather seats that could hold four passengers, sat behind the driver’s seat, partially enclosed by a wood-framed, canvas-covered roof and open sides. A saddled horse was tied to the rear of the carriage.