by Jack Ford
After the children were settled at the kitchen table, with chunks of bread slathered with jam placed in front of them, the man beckoned Mary and Kitty into the front room.
“I’m sorry we didn’t come to the door to let thee in sooner,” he said apologetically. “But we were fearful, at first, that it was them returning.”
“Them?” said Kitty.
“The slave catchers,” he said ominously. “Been here earlier in the day. Said they were looking for an escaped slave and her children.” He looked pointedly at Kitty. “And that the slaves were traveling with a white woman who was wanted by the law for stealing them away and helping them escape.” Now he shifted his gaze to Mary. “Warned us about helping thee and said they’d be back.”
Mary and Kitty looked at each other, apprehension in their faces. Mary spoke first.
“How many?” she asked.
“Five,” he answered. “Including the man who claimed to be the slave owner.”
“Did he use a name?” Mary asked.
The man shook his head. “Didn’t offer it, and I didn’t ask. A big man—but polite and respectful. Not like the others. Evil, godless men, they were. An aura of the devil about them. Be happy to never see them again.”
“Perhaps we should move on,” Kitty said. “Don’t want to put you in any danger.”
Mary nodded her agreement.
The man looked from one to the other and then shook his head vigorously. “No,” he said adamantly. “We will take care of thee. It’s what God would want us to do,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. “Now, let us get thee all fed and then settled in. Thee—and the children—must be exhausted from thy travels.”
“But is it safe for us to stay here?” Mary said. “If they might come back?”
The man took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “There is always danger in life. But the hand of God will guide us,” he said reverently. “Thou will be safe. Come, now. We have no time to waste. In case they do return.”
CHAPTER 28
KITTY AWOKE FIRST. SHE LISTENED CAREFULLY BUT COULD HEAR NO sounds other than the sleepy, fitful breathing of Mary and the children as they tossed and turned restlessly, struggling to get comfortable in the hollowed-out ground.
Just before dawn, after they had all eaten their fill following their arrival, the man and the woman had escorted them to the barn behind the house.
“Thou will all be safe out here,” the woman had said soothingly. “But I’m fearful that your accommodations will be somewhat lacking in comfort,” she’d added.
Kitty looked around at the piles of hay and the storage areas. “It looks comfortable enough,” she said.
The man shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid we need to hide thee better than just putting you out here. I’m certain that this is the first place the slave catchers will look if they return.”
“So,” Mary said, puzzled, “why are we here?”
In response, the man walked to a corner of the barn where a number of bales of hay were stacked. Without saying a word, he took a pitchfork, stabbed it into a bale, and pushed it to one side. He did the same to a second bale and then a third, eventually exposing a hole, cloaked by a heavy sheet of canvas, in the packed earthen floor. After pulling the canvas back, he pointed into the hole.
“In here,” he said, with a contrite look. “Warm and dry, with enough room, and thou will be well hidden—but not very comfortable, I’m afraid.”
“We’ll bring thee some blankets and pillows, which should help a bit,” the woman added sweetly, looking at the children.
Kitty and Mary climbed into the dugout first. After the children were lowered into the hole, the woman dashed out of the barn and returned minutes later laden with pillows and blankets, along with some food and water. As they all settled in below, the man handed them a storm lantern that contained a lit candle.
“This will last thee awhile,” he said and then handed down a box of matches. “Best to blow it out while sleeping and then relight it when thou are awake. We will come get thee at dusk to get ready for your departure. Get some rest and do not worry. Thou will be safe,” he added.
Mary and Kitty both offered their thanks and then sat down on the ground as the man pulled the canvas covering across the opening. They could hear him sliding the bales of hay across the ground above to conceal the hiding place.
After she awoke, Kitty struck a match and lit the storm lantern. Startled by the flaring light, Mary sat up quickly, her eyes wide as she struggled to adapt to the darkness of the dugout. The children, their circadian rhythms having swiftly adjusted to the time disruptions of their journey, were still asleep, wriggling about in the warmth of the blankets and pillows, and blessedly unmindful of the dangers stalking them.
“What time do you think it is?” mumbled Mary, rubbing her eyes with her palms.
“Not sure,” said Kitty. “Feels like nighttime should be comin’ soon.”
Mary cocked her head, listening carefully. “Sounds like rain outside,” she said. “Heavy rain.”
Kitty listened and then nodded. “Good and bad, I guess,” she said. “Good that the rain’ll keep most folks off the road at night. And bad ’cause we got to be out there on the road, needin’ to get to our next stop by mornin’.”
“Wherever that might be,” Mary added.
A few minutes later they heard scurrying sounds above them and then the sound of the hay bales being dragged away. When the canvas cover was stripped back, they gently woke the children and handed the still sleepy figures up to their hosts.
“Hope thou were able to rest,” said the woman, offering an apologetic half smile.
“And regain thy strength,” added the man, glancing out the open barn door at the torrents of rain, punctuated now by cannonades of thunder. “By the looks of this weather, thou will need it traveling tonight.”
Mary and Kitty both looked forlornly at the cascading rain. Mary turned to the man and lowered her voice.
“Slave catchers come back?” she asked.
The man shook his head. “Not yet. But I suspect they’re still out there. Heard one of them say they’d stay out searching for weeks if need be.”
Mary stepped to the door of the barn and looked up at the troubled, dark, and wet sky. “Where will we go from here?” she asked, turning back to the others.
“Be traveling on this road for another twenty miles or so. Probably take roughly two nights to cover it. Tonight thou’ll be stopping at another farm about eight miles down the road. Just as well it’s not farther away. Won’t likely make very good time tonight in this weather.”
“How do we find this farm?” asked Kitty, mindful of their struggles the night before.
“Should be easier to spot than we were,” the man said. “There’s a creek to cross about a mile before the farm. Thou will see the farm then on the right side of the road, behind a long white fence.” He thought a moment and then frowned. “Hope the creek’s not a problem.”
“Why would it be a problem?” Mary asked.
“Sometimes runs over its banks in bad weather. Weather like this,” he added. “There’s a small stone bridge that should get thou across, though, even if the water’s running high.”
“So,” said Kitty, with a deep sigh and a hint of a sardonic grin, “seems like a perfect night to travel. Torrential rain, overflowing creeks. Not to mention slave catchers lookin’ for us at every turn.”
The man shot a concerned look at both Mary and Kitty. “Thou will need to be very careful tonight,” he warned. “Very careful.”
CHAPTER 29
BEFORE THEY DEPARTED, THE MAN WHEELED THE CARRIAGE INSIDE the barn, spread a canvas tarpaulin over the top, and tucked it into the sides to provide some additional protection from the torrents of rain. His wife helped the children into the back of the carriage and wrapped them caringly in yet another sheet of canvas. The man then held the horse’s reins as Mary and Kitty climbed aboard. They settled into their seats and turned to of
fer smiles and nods of thanks to their benefactors.
The man and the woman nodded back to them.
“God bless and protect thee on this journey,” the man said somberly as Mary flicked the reins and the horse reluctantly stepped out into the downpour.
The rain was worse than they had anticipated, gushing from the sky to pound the carriage, splashing inside to quickly soak all the occupants, despite the protective tarpaulin. The barrage of crescendoing thunder was now accompanied by slashing streaks of lightning, which, combined with the unyielding onslaught of drenching rain, reduced visibility to no more than a few feet.
It took them most of the night to travel the seven miles to the creek and bridge that would place them about one mile from the safety of their next shelter. The rain was relentless. Waves of water assaulted them as the horse gingerly picked its way along the road, mired in ankle-deep sludge. Hoping the fury of the storm would soon abate, they occasionally stopped under a protective canopy of trees, longing for some relief that never came.
As they came around a bend in the road, the rain lessened just a bit, but it was just enough to allow them to see the vague profile of a stone bridge about a hundred yards ahead. Suddenly, Mary jerked hard on the reins, pulling the horse to a sliding stop.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kitty.
“Not sure,” Mary answered, shielding her eyes with her hand as she leaned forward and stared intently toward the bridge. “Thought I saw something up ahead, near the bridge.”
“Slave catchers? Think they’d be out in this? Still lookin’ for us?” Kitty asked anxiously.
“Can’t tell,” answered Mary, still squinting into the watery darkness.
“Best we check it out first,” Kitty said. “Pull the carriage off the road . . . there!” she declared abruptly, pointing to a small clearing. “I’ll go ahead to see.”
Mary looked at Kitty in alarm but followed her directions and guided the horse into the open space.
“But if it is them . . . ,” Mary began as she reined the horse to a stop.
“Won’t see me. Not in this,” Kitty said confidently, gesturing to the sky. “I’ll stay off the road, keep to the woods. Can’t afford to take the risk and try crossin’ that bridge if it might be them waitin’ for us.”
Mary nodded reluctantly. She placed her hand on Kitty’s arm. “Be careful,” Mary said.
Kitty nodded back and then turned toward the children in the rear of the carriage. They were completely soaked by the storm, despite the efforts to keep them covered by the tarpaulin.
“Need y’all to be really good and stay very quiet for Mistress Mary. Be back in just a few minutes,” she said, forcing a wooden smile as she touched each child on the cheek.
Kitty leaped down from the seat, landed in a sea of mud, and began to cautiously negotiate her way through the trees and bushes along the edge of the road. Within seconds she had disappeared, ghostlike, from the sight of the horse and carriage.
It took her a few minutes to wend her way to a spot in the bordering undergrowth where she had a clear view of the bridge. She squatted down beside a dense cluster of evergreen bushes and peeked around a thick tree. For a moment she could see nothing other than the outline of the stone bridge. She had just let out a quiet sigh of relief when her heart jumped.
A figure stepped out from a larger outcropping of stone at the edge of the bridge, which provided a shallow, protected niche. The figure glanced down the road in both directions and then swiftly retreated back into his rocky shelter.
Kitty withdrew from her hiding place and silently retraced her muddy steps back to where the carriage was hidden. As she stepped out from the heavy foliage, Mary shot her an apprehensive look.
“Someone’s up there just waitin’,” Kitty said in a hoarse whisper. “Must be lookin’ for us. No other reason to be out in this.”
“Feared as much,” Mary answered. “Guess we need to find another way,” she added decisively.
“Think I found one,” Kitty answered.
Mary looked at her, eyebrows raised questioningly.
“On the way back, I saw a path just up ahead. Looked like it led down toward the creek. Might be a ford there where we can cross,” Kitty said.
Mary thought a minute. “Worth a try,” she finally said. “Sure can’t stay here. And daylight’ll be comin’ soon.”
Kitty grabbed the horse’s bridle and tugged. “I’ll lead the way,” she said as the horse grudgingly followed her back onto the sodden road.
Fortunately, the opening to the path lay just a few feet up the road from where the carriage emerged. Kitty quickly and firmly guided the horse off the road and onto the path. It took just a few minutes of coaxing the now exhausted and frightened animal through the woods before they burst out of the trees and shrubbery and into a small clearing next to the creek, downstream and out of sight of the bridge.
Kitty yanked the horse to a halt and turned, panic stricken, toward Mary.
The shallow, meandering creek had been transformed by the storm into a roiling, rushing wall of foaming water.
CHAPTER 30
THE TWO WOMEN LOOKED AT EACH OTHER, DREAD IN THEIR EYES. Attempting to cross at the bridge was out of the question. And the protective cloak of darkness would disappear soon, as the leading edge of dawn approached. They had to get across the creek and find the sanctuary of their next destination. And they had to do it quickly.
“We need to cross here,” Kitty shouted. “Now! Before it gets any higher.”
The roar of the churning water made it difficult to hear.
“What?” yelled Mary.
“Here! We need to try to cross here! Now!” Kitty shouted back, gesturing toward the rising water.
Mary stared at Kitty and then at the water, all the while shaking her head. “Can we get across?” she asked.
“Have to try,” Kitty urged. “No other choice.”
Mary thought for a second and then set her jaw and nodded forcefully. “Get in!” she shouted.
Kitty bounded back up onto the seat and turned to make sure the children were packed securely in the rear of the carriage. “Both of you,” she yelled to Eliza Jane and Mary, “grab on tight to each other and to Arthur.”
The girls shook their heads in response, wide-eyed and mute with fright, and wrapped their arms around each other and their little brother.
“Good!” Kitty said. “Now hold on!”
Mary cracked the reins, but the terrified horse balked, digging its rear hooves into the muddy creek bank. Mary flailed away again, trying desperately to get the horse to move out into the rising watery surge, but it refused to budge, now trying to rise up on its hind legs in protest.
Kitty leaped to the ground.
“Throw me your shawl,” she shouted to Mary as she grabbed the horse’s bridle and harness.
Mary ripped her soaked shawl from her shoulders and tossed it down. Kitty snatched it out of the air and wrapped it around the horse’s face, covering its eyes and blinding it completely to the terrifying scene playing out in front of them. Then she began to tug, pulling the horse forward as Mary snapped the reins furiously.
Slowly, the animal began to move, taking small, mincing steps at first as it entered the water, then more powerful strides as it began to battle the tide. The water rose quickly as the carriage lurched forward, first covering the wheel hubs and then creeping up over the rims. Kitty grasped the bridle tightly and heaved frantically, desperate to hang on and to keep the horse moving, trying to keep her footing on the slippery creek bottom as the surging flow of water tore at her.
Midway across the creek the horse balked for a second time, frightened as it lost its purchase and was pushed sideways with the surge before it once again gained its footing. The water level had swelled upward and the water was now just inches away from spilling into the carriage. Mary urged the horse on while Kitty pulled with all her strength.
The churning tide had reached Kitty’s shoulders, and she struggled n
ot to swallow any water as it lashed her face. Suddenly, she stepped into a hole in the creek bed and lost her balance. The rushing white water dragged her under, and she thrashed about, fighting to keep a grip on the bridle, which was now her only lifeline.
As she struggled, heaving on the leather straps, the horse raised its head in protest. Its powerful neck muscles hauled Kitty up, and she sputtered and gasped for breath as she strained desperately to regain her balance. Wrapping her arms around the horse’s head, she could see Mary perched on the edge of the carriage seat, ready to jump into the water. Kitty waved her away.
The horse had stopped mid-stream, confused by the drag of Kitty’s floating body pulling it downstream and terrified by the force of the battering water. Kitty knew that if she didn’t get the horse moving again immediately, they would all be swept away. She gripped the bridle tightly, and forced her legs down into the water, hoping to touch the creek bed.
When she stretched her legs downward, her feet barely touched the bottom, but this afforded just enough traction for her to force herself ahead of the horse and begin to pull once again, jerking the frightened animal’s head in the direction of the far shore. The horse responded, sensing the mounting peril and the safety just a few feet ahead, and plunged forward, now towing Kitty along with it. After the horse took three powerful strides, Kitty could feel the ground beneath her rising and saw that the water level had dropped below the rails of the carriage. Mary now stood in the carriage seat, whipping the reins and urging the horse onward. After two more strides, the carriage rose out of the water, water cascading from all sides, and bounded up onto the safety of the shore.
Kitty staggered out of the water and collapsed to the ground.
CHAPTER 31
MARY HEAVED BACK ON THE REINS, PULLING THE FRIGHTENED and frenzied horse to an abrupt sliding halt. She scrambled down from the carriage, hastily tied the reins to a nearby tree, and raced to where Kitty lay on the muddy bank.
By the time Mary reached her, Kitty had risen to her hands and knees and was retching violently, coughing up water she had swallowed during her battle in the creek. Mary knelt next to her and cradled her head. After a few nerve-wracking minutes, the retching stopped. Kitty rolled onto her side and then sat upright, struggling to gulp down deep draughts of air.