Chariot on the Mountain

by Jack Ford

  Mary spoke first. “We have nothing of value,” she said calmly, also raising her hands in the air. “We’re just traveling to visit friends.” She gestured toward the small bags at her feet. “Nothing but some clothes for us and the children.” She gestured toward the children, who were cowering behind her in the carriage.

  “Shut yer mouth!” the man barked. “I know who y’all are.” He gestured toward Kitty with the pistol. “This one is a slave. Them kids, too.” He shifted his aim toward Mary. “And you, yer the one helpin’ ’em escape.” He chuckled malevolently. “And me, I’m the one gonna make five hundred dollars by turnin’ you in.”

  “You are mistaken, sir,” Mary said imperiously. “And unless you release us immediately, I intend to file criminal charges against you for assaulting me and my maid.”

  The man looked from Mary to Kitty and back again, confused by Mary’s haughty and indignant attitude, and now not entirely sure that these were, in fact, the people described on the reward flyer.

  Mary spoke again, more angry and insistent now. “I demand that you hand me the reins and put that gun away so we may resume our journey!”

  Finally, the man made up his mind, the allure of five- hundred dollars overwhelming his doubt. He pointed the gun directly at Mary.

  “Think we’ll all just head back to Frederick and check out yer story there. But I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be collectin’ myself some money soon’s I turn y’all over back there,” he said, an evil grin spreading across his scruffy face.

  Mary looked toward Kitty, who had furtively stepped closer to the man. Kitty nodded, barely perceptibly, in the direction of the bag at Mary’s feet. Mary took a deep breath and nodded back.

  The man, nervous now, swung his pistol back and forth from Mary to Kitty. “Don’t y’all go doin’ somethin’ stupid now,” he growled.

  “We have no intention of doing anything until we return to Frederick,” Mary said. “Where we then intend to have you arrested. Now, if you’ll toss me my reins, we can get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner you’ll be in jail, and the sooner we can resume our journey.”

  “Aw right, then,” the man said, a gleam of greed in his eyes. “Let’s git goin’. Here,” he said, stepping forward and flinging the reins in Mary’s direction.

  As he tossed the reins, his gun hand dropped to his side. At that moment, Kitty leaped at him, one hand smacking his face, the other slapping down on the gun, which fell out of his grasp. The two of them rolled to the ground, Kitty struggling ferociously, flailing her arms and legs, trying to get control of him. Although the man was short and fat, he was still able to roll to the side and briefly escape Kitty’s clutches. He kicked out with his legs, knocking her away from him, and scrambled to his feet, lunging toward the gun.

  Mary appeared suddenly at his side and kicked the gun away. He looked up to see her holding Samuel’s big pistol in both of her hands. She cocked the hammer ominously and pointed the pistol unswervingly in his face.

  “Now,” she said stonily, “I think it’s time for us to be movin’ on. Without you.”

  Although his eyes were fearful, the man attempted to bluff his way out of this dilemma by trying to infuse his voice with a confidence he didn’t really feel. “Don’t think you really want to pull that trigger, ma’am,” he scoffed. “Ain’t like shootin’ at targets when yer blowin’ a man’s head off. Don’t see you as the murderin’ kind.”

  Mary looked at him, her gaze level and hard. “Don’t think I’d be losin’ much sleep over killin’ the likes of you,” she answered calmly.

  He looked from Mary to Kitty, who had clambered up from the ground and was now standing next to Mary. “Prob’ly not even primed to fire,” he added, gesturing with his head toward Mary’s gun. “Been out in the weather, so powder’s prob’ly wet.” He shook his head, exhibiting a false bravado that was belied by the fear now creeping into his voice. “So why don’t you just put that big ol’ gun down and we’ll all just go our separate ways. No harm done.”

  Mary spoke, her eyes narrowed as she stared hard at the man. “Way I see it, two things can possibly happen here. First thing is, I pull the trigger, and you’re right—powder’s wet and all we get is a flash in the pan.” She shrugged and then continued. “Second possibility is, I pull the trigger, and your brains end up splattered all over that tree behind you.” She smiled. “I’m kinda likin’ the second possibility myself.”

  The only sound in the clearing was the cheerful chirping of the morning birds welcoming the new day as the now terrified man looked first at Mary and then at Kitty, unsure whether this woman would really shoot and unsure whether he was willing to risk his life for the now less enticing five hundred dollars.

  Kitty chimed in with a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t wait much longer if I was you,” she said. “She might shoot you just for practice.”

  The man slowly raised his hands.

  CHAPTER 36

  THEY TIED THE PROTESTING MAN TO A TREE, COILING A LENGTH OF rope they had found in his saddlebag—which he had apparently intended to use on them—around him multiple times, leaving it loose enough that he would eventually be able to wriggle free.

  “This ain’t right, leavin’ me out here like this,” he spluttered. “Ain’t right. Man could die out here, tied up like this. Who knows what kinda animals about,” he added, wide-eyed with dread.

  “Just shut up,” Kitty said as she stuffed a rag in his mouth. “Tired of listenin’ to you cryin’ like a baby.”

  Mary took a dirty handkerchief from his coat pocket and tied it around his eyes, blindfolding him. Then she gestured to Kitty and pointed to their mouths and then to the man, signaling that they should let him hear what they said next. Kitty nodded that she understood.

  “Now what do we do?” Mary asked in a whispered voice that was just loud enough for the man to hear. He stopped squirming about and cocked his head to one side, attempting to surreptitiously listen to the women.

  “Not sure,” answered Kitty, shooting Mary a questioning look.

  “Don’t think we can keep goin’ where we were headed,” Mary said. “Maybe we should head back to the river and then up toward Harpers Ferry. Might find some help up that way.”

  Kitty shook her head, understanding what Mary was trying to do. “Think so. Heard some folks up that way will help runaways,” Kitty said.

  “Probably our only choice now,” added Mary.

  “Should get goin’ right away, then, before the sun’s up much higher and the folks in town are up and about,” said Kitty.

  Mary grinned at Kitty and then pointed toward the man. She stepped closer and spoke to him.

  “We’re leavin’ you here. Somebody’ll be comin’ along before too long, and they’ll free you up. You hear?” she said, cuffing him lightly on the cheek.

  The man shook his head up and down and mumbled something they could not understand.

  The women climbed aboard the carriage, both smiling reassuringly at the three children, who had remained seated in the rear. The children offered wan smiles in return, seemingly now somewhat inured to the excitement of the adventures they had all encountered since they began their journey days ago.

  Mary flicked the reins and guided the horse gingerly out of the clearing and back onto the road in the direction of the Quaker meeting house, their original destination. After they had traveled a few hundred yards and were out of hearing range of their trussed-up would-be captor, Kitty turned to Mary.

  “Think he heard us?” she asked.

  “Seemed so,” answered Mary.

  “Think he believed us?” asked Kitty. “That we changed our plans and are headin’ to Harpers Ferry?”

  “Not sure,” said Mary. “Makes sense that we’d head off in a different direction now that he’s spotted us. And gotta believe that he’s still lookin’ for a piece of that reward money. So maybe he takes the bait, finds Sam, and leads them off after us.” She shrugged. “On a wild-goose chase. But one that gives us a be
tter chance of gettin’ out of Maryland and into Pennsylvania.”

  Kitty seemed lost in thought for a moment, then turned toward Mary and spoke. “Maybe meetin’ up with him and nearly gettin’ caught might be the best thing that could’ve happened to us if it sends them all off down the wrong trail, followin’ the wrong scent,” she mused.

  “Could be,” Mary agreed. “As long as we sold him on the story that we’re now off to Harpers Ferry.”

  “If not?” said Kitty.

  “Then we gotta hope that no one finds him back there soon. And that he doesn’t find Sam,” said Mary.

  It was not long before they came upon the Quaker meetinghouse that was to be their next stop. They had discussed the idea of bypassing it and continuing on their journey but had finally decided that the risks of traveling many more hours in daylight outweighed the possibility that someone might be following their trail soon, a trail that could lead to a search of the meetinghouse. And they trusted that the Quakers who would be helping them would also have a secure place to hide them.

  They were correct. Welcomed warmly by two Quaker women, who seemed somehow to be expecting them, they were all given a quick meal and then hidden in a small chamber behind a false wall in the rear of the meeting room. The entrance to the hidden space was constructed so skillfully that the clandestine guests could not discern the outlines of the secret door until it miraculously popped open before their surprised eyes. The children were asleep before the women had finished tucking them into the feather-stuffed mattresses on the floor, and they were followed swiftly by Mary and Kitty, who were mentally and physically drained from the ordeal of the past few hours.

  CHAPTER 37

  THIS TIME, THEIR LUCK HAD HELD. THERE HAD BEEN NO POUNDING on the entrance to the meetinghouse, no shouted demands by rough men to search the premises, no bullying threats of harm for harboring fugitive slaves. They had slept soundly and uninterrupted through the daylight hours and into the early evening, before their hosts knocked softly on the hidden door.

  After another round of hot soup, bread, cheese, warm embraces, and good wishes, the travelers embarked again into the night, ladened with more food and directions to the next destination on the “railroad,” a home facing the main road on the outskirts of the small village of Emmitsburg, very close to the promised land of the Pennsylvania border.

  The night’s journey passed without event. The children engaged in whispered games to occupy themselves, while Mary and Kitty spent most of the time in a comfortable silence, focusing on the road ahead.

  They arrived at the terminus of this leg of the journey just before dawn. Almost immediately, a man answered their cautious rapping on the back door of an expansive redbrick and white-columned home and hastily ushered them into the house. He was the first of their so-called “conductors” along the Underground Railroad to actually identify himself by name.

  Introducing himself as William Steere, he informed them that he was a prosperous merchant—he owned a nearby lumber mill that had been started by his grandfather after the American Revolution—and a prominent member of the local community. Both he and his wife, Louisa, who joined him after just a few minutes, were older—probably in their late sixties—and rather frail looking. He was tall and stooped, with thinning gray hair crowning a long, narrow, pinched face, one marked by wire-rimmed glasses perched upon the edge of his nose. Louisa Steere was in some ways a mirror image of her husband. She was nearly his height; had pale, sickly, almost translucent skin, and strands of white hair pulled back harshly into a tight bun; and was so severely skeletal looking that she listed unsteadily to one side when she walked.

  They appeared rather proper and quite reserved. Certainly not the more robust antislavery crusaders the women had met over the past few nights, thought Kitty. William, who reminded her of a schoolmaster in both demeanor and manner of speech, told them that he and his wife had successfully helped a number of fleeing slaves to reach the Pennsylvania line over the past few years. He also told them, after Mary inquired, that he had, in fact, heard that a gang of slave catchers had traveled through the town a few days ago but that they had not come knocking on the door of his residence.

  Louisa fed them the first full meal they had enjoyed since they left Mary’s farm—freshly prepared oatcakes smothered in molasses and accompanied by chunks of ham and a pitcher of cold buttermilk. While Mary and Kitty heartily devoured the meal, the girls taught a delighted Arthur how to lick the leftover molasses from his fingers.

  The Steeres were polite and considerate, if not as warm and embracing as the group’s prior hosts. The conversation during the meal was limited and a bit stilted, focusing on the next steps in the trip. It seemed that the older couple approached the presence of the band of fugitives as more of a business problem requiring a practical solution than their playing a passion-driven role in a holy crusade.

  After breakfast, William escorted Mary and Kitty into his study in the front of the house, while Louisa took the children to the kitchen for a warm bath. The plan, he explained, was for them to rest at his home, in a hidden alcove above the second floor of the spacious structure. The following day they would cross the border line into Pennsylvania, less than two miles away. As he spoke, he pointed to a large framed map of Maryland that hung from the wall. They would then travel about three miles from the state line to the tiny hamlet of Fairplay, he said, his finger tracing the short path on the map. There they would be met by several Quakers, who would escort them as they journeyed to an area near Gettysburg, where arrangements had been made for Kitty and the children to reside temporarily with a family of free Negroes.

  Once again, as she listened and peered at the map, Kitty marveled at the efficiency of the “railroad” and its nearly magical system of rapid communication. In the span of a mere eight days, word of their escape and trek had been spread nearly one hundred miles through the network, and an array of “conductors” had sprung to their aid. Now, as they neared the end of their perilous journey, it appeared that their safety—and their freedom—lay a meager five miles away.

  The plan, William assured them, was very simple and secure.

  “You’ll stay here today and tonight,” he said in his schoolmaster’s voice. “Get some rest and restore your spirits. Then tomorrow, around noon, we’ll set out for the border.”

  “We?” asked a surprised Mary.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I’ll be traveling with you.”

  “Why? Isn’t that dangerous for you?” asked Kitty.

  “Not at all,” he said, scoffing at the idea. “Done it that way dozens of times.”

  “And we’ll be traveling in daylight?” asked a clearly puzzled Mary. “Won’t people in town notice us?”

  “Actually safer traveling through the village in daylight. Not as suspicious. Just some travelers passing through. Nothing to arouse concern.” He paused. “Truth is,” he said conspiratorially, “even though Maryland is still a slave state, lots of folks up this end of the state feel very strongly about the evils of the institution. And are willing to help. Or at least look the other way. And with me accompanying you, given my position here, men would think twice about accosting us in broad daylight,” he added self-assuredly.

  Mary and Kitty exchanged concerned glances. Traveling in daylight, they were both thinking, given the size of the reward that was shadowing them, did not seem particularly safe. And they also had their own doubts that Sam Maddox would ever let frail old William Steere stand in his way and prevent him from seizing Kitty and the children, given their value to him as slaves on the open market.

  “Well, then,” William said, oblivious to their concerns, “it’s time for all of you to get some rest, especially the children. We’ll awaken you before dinner. Then you’ll get a good night’s sleep and be prepared for these last steps in your journey to freedom,” he intoned solemnly.

  CHAPTER 38

  THE NEXT DAY DAWNED BRIGHT AND CLEAR, WITH A BRISK WIND AND a chill in the air. Mary an
d Kitty had awakened before the sun rose. They sat with their backs to the slanting attic wall, still wrapped in their blankets, waiting for the Steeres to beckon them for breakfast before they launched what was hopefully the last leg of their journey. The children were still asleep, tucked into a corner of the cramped space and wrapped in the bundles of soft coverlets that Louisa Steere had provided.

  The women had been silent since they awoke, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally, Kitty turned to Mary and spoke quietly.

  “This really a good idea?” she asked. “Travelin’ in broad daylight? Old Mr. Steere comin’ along with us?”

  Mary shook her head, exasperated. “Not the way I’d do it, if the choice was ours. But he seems pretty confident we’ll be all right. It’s worked before doin’ it this same way, so should work now, too,” she said.

  “But he ain’t had Sam Maddox chasin’ after folks before,” Kitty said.

  “True,” Mary answered after a moment.

  “We all’ve done pretty good so far by ourselves,” said Kitty. “Don’t see any reason why things should change now.”

  Mary nodded slowly in agreement. “I know. But maybe we’ll just have to trust him that he knows what he’s doin’. After all, it’s worked fine before,” she said, sounding more confident than she really felt.

  “Works fine . . . until it don’t,” Kitty said skeptically. “And if don’t work fine this time, old Mr. Steere’s still comin’ home to this house. But we ain’t goin’ home,” she added bitterly. “Maybe you included.”

  There was a soft knocking on the door, and Louisa stepped into the room. “Time to rise,” she said pleasantly. “Big day ahead of you.”

  Mary and Kitty exchanged resigned glances as they struggled to their feet, careful not to bump their heads against the sloped ceiling.

  After yet another hearty breakfast, they packed their few small bags into the carriage and all climbed aboard. The children seemed puzzled by the fact that they were traveling in the daytime, but said nothing, sensing the tension felt by Mary and Kitty.