Chariot on the Mountain

by Jack Ford

  William Steere exited the barn, leading a horse by the reins. When he came alongside, he tied his horse to the rear of the carriage and began to climb into the driver’s box, next to Mary.

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Mary, her tone a bit defensive. “I can handle the carriage. Been drivin’ it since we left days ago.”

  “I’m sure you can, my dear,” he proclaimed in a patronizing tone, which annoyed both Mary and Kitty. “But I think it’s better that I handle the remaining portion of the trip.”

  Mary reluctantly slid over closer to Kitty as Steere struggled to pull himself up into the carriage. Once he wriggled into the seat, he took the reins from Mary and, after nodding imperially to Louisa, guided the horse around the house and onto the main road.

  It took less than ten minutes to travel through Emmitsburg. It was more a village than a town. The main street consisted of a few storefronts, several homes, and a wood-frame building that served as both the town hall and the post office. They passed a few people going about their early morning business, but no one seemed to pay much attention to the travelers. Mary turned toward Kitty as they passed the last structure in the village, and they shared a look that said, “Maybe this will be fine, after all.”

  When they had traveled another mile or so, William abruptly pulled back on the reins and the horse came to a juddering halt. Mary and Kitty looked around frantically, searching for whatever danger had caused him to stop suddenly. When they spied nothing, they both turned toward William.

  “What’s wrong?” demanded Mary.

  “Nothing,” William answered, an odd smile creasing his lined face. “Thought you might want to embrace the moment.”

  Both women stared at him quizzically.

  “See that stone?” he said, gesturing to a large granite block about two feet square, with intricate figures etched into each side, that was securely planted in the ground a few yards off the road. “It’s a boundary marker. A crown stone, they call it.”

  The women continued to stare at him, and he seemed to be enjoying their puzzlement.

  “Let me explain. Back in seventeen sixty-three,” William began, now cloaking himself in his professorial role, “the colonies of Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Delaware were locked in a dispute over boundaries, a dispute that had been going on for years. Finally, after years of disagreement, they settled on a solution. Two respected Englishmen—Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon, both of whom were surveyors and astronomers—were commissioned to survey the boundary lines between the three colonies. The quarreling parties agreed to abide by the calculations and determinations of Mason and Dixon.”

  He went on. “And after nearly four years of work, this”—he tilted his head toward the stone—“is the result. The boundaries were surveyed and marked using these boundary stones. Find one of them located every five miles or so. Carved into the surface of each side, as you can see, is a coat of arms. The one facing us is from the Calvert family, the founders of Maryland. On the other side, right there”—he pointed—“is the coat of arms of William Penn.”

  William Steere paused dramatically.

  “Ladies, welcome to Pennsylvania,” he said. He then looked directly at Kitty. “And welcome to your freedom!”

  CHAPTER 39

  BOTH WOMEN WERE STILL, STARING, TRANSFIXED, AT THE CROWN stone. The fact that they were now in Pennsylvania seemed almost anticlimactic after the dangers and uncertainties of the past few days. Although they knew that passing to the other side of this crown stone meant freedom, strangely, nothing yet felt different. Indeed, both Mary and Kitty continued to scan the road before and behind them, their eyes flickering nervously, fearful that their pursuers were hiding somewhere nearby, waiting, even at this moment, to pounce and steal this elusive and ethereal liberty from them.

  Mary turned toward Kitty and gently touched her arm. “So?” she said.

  “So . . . what?” said a puzzled Kitty.

  “You’re safe,” Mary exclaimed. “Aren’t you happy?”

  Kitty hesitated for a moment, unsure of her feelings. “Not yet, I guess,” she answered. “Know I should be. But God’s honest truth, I don’t feel any different from what I felt yesterday. Still thinkin’ that Sam’s out there lookin’ for us and ain’t gonna give up till he finds us. And if he does, ain’t so sure that just bein’ on the other side of this rock”—she inclined her head in the direction of the crown stone—“gonna save us.”

  Mary sighed deeply and nodded. “Guess I feel the same way right now. But, hopefully, we’ll be better once we get to where we’re headin’. Wherever that is,” Mary said.

  William, who had been listening intently to the conversation, chimed in. “Not at all unusual,” he said, still sounding like a schoolmaster lecturing a class. “Most of those we’ve escorted across the border feel the same way. After so many years of living in bondage, the taste of real freedom may take some time for you to acquire.” He gazed at the crown stone. “But make no mistake,” he added pontifically, “you are now free.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Steere,” Kitty said, offering a weak smile. “Don’t mean to sound ungrateful. We truly appreciate what y’all have done for us. And all the others who helped us. We truly do. It’s just that . . .” Kitty hesitated, looking reflectively off into the distance for a moment.

  “Just that,” she continued, “if you’ve been a slave all your life, just ’cause you pass over a border line with some fancy engraved rock doesn’t make everythin’ go away, like it all never happened. Like you said, just gonna take some gettin’ used to, I guess.” Kitty looked at Mary and placed her hand gently on Mary’s arm. “But we’re forever grateful. Truly.”

  Mary smiled and patted Kitty’s hand. “Well, the sooner we get to where we’re goin’, the sooner y’all will start bein’ free and then feelin’ free. So,” Mary said, turning to William eagerly, “perhaps we should get goin’. Folks are waitin’ for us up the road ahead.”

  William nodded and flicked the reins. As the carriage rolled past the crown stone, Kitty twisted in her seat and stared back at it. Two small tears seeped from the corners of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks as a faint smile crept across her face.

  It took less than an hour for them to reach Fairplay. If Emmitsburg, Maryland, was just a village, then Fairplay, Pennsylvania, was a mere hamlet, with the main road—if it could be called that—sparsely dotted with a handful of houses, two business establishments, and one stable. Tethered to a rail in front of the stable was a farm wagon pulled by two bulky gray draft horses. Seated in the driver’s box in the front were two men. Although both were heavily bearded, one appeared to be significantly older than the other. They were dressed in farm clothes, and each wore a dark, wide-brimmed hat.

  As the carriage neared, each man tipped the rim of his hat in their direction. William Steere spoke first.

  “Gentlemen,” he intoned, “it is good to see you again.”

  “Mr. Steere,” the older man said, inclining his head respectfully. “It is good to see thee, also.” He then shifted his gaze directly to Kitty and offered a kind smile. “And it is especially good to see thee. And the children,” he added.

  Mary and Kitty offered polite smiles and nods in return.

  “We are happy to see you, also,” Mary said, a note of relief in her voice.

  “Quite happy,” added Kitty.

  “Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Aaron Wright,” William said, inclining his head in the direction of the older man, “and his son, John. Both Aaron and John have been very helpful to us and our cause in the past. They will be accompanying you to your next destination.”

  William turned toward Mary and Kitty. “They are good men, and you can trust them,” he said soothingly.

  “I’m sure we can,” Kitty answered confidently, turning toward the two men. “My children and I are grateful for your help.”

  “And now,” William announced, “I must leave you, I’m afraid.” He reached across and solemnly shook fi
rst Kitty’s hand and then Mary’s.

  Kitty spoke first. “Thank you. And Mrs. Steere, also,” she said sincerely, “for everything you’ve done for us. The Bible talks of welcoming strangers, but you did more than just welcome us. You helped save us. All of you along the way did. We’ll not forget you.”

  “You are a brave man to aid us like this,” Mary added. “You have our deepest gratitude. God will bless you.”

  William stood and awkwardly maneuvered his spare frame down from the carriage, struggling to keep his balance as he landed on the ground. Reaching out to the children, he touched each one on the forehead, without a word, as if he was offering some type of benediction as they parted ways.

  “You are in good hands now,” he said, tilting his head toward Aaron and John Wright. “Theirs—and God’s.”

  William walked to the rear of the carriage. He untied his horse, mounted it and, with a brief wave of the hand, trotted off down the road toward the border line and Maryland.

  “Well, then,” said Aaron. “We should all be leaving, also.”

  “Where are we going now?” asked Mary.

  “Thee will all be staying the night at our home, some five miles or so from here, outside Gettysburg. We own a gristmill there and have hosted many like yourselves. Those who are enjoying their first taste of freedom,” Aaron said, smiling warmly at Kitty.

  “And then?” Kitty asked.

  “After that, we will take thee to a home on Bear Mountain, a few miles away. Arrangements have been made for thee and the children to reside there,” he said reassuringly. “Until thou might be ready to move on.”

  “Who will they be staying with?” asked Mary.

  “A free black man named Amon Jones has a small farm there. He and his wife, Rachel, have agreed to take thou in as boarders in return for thy labor in the home,” Aaron said.

  “Will they be safe there?” Mary asked.

  Aaron offered an encouraging smile. “Amon Jones is a God-fearing man. Thou will be safe in his care,” he said to Kitty.

  CHAPTER 40

  ALTHOUGH THEY KNEW THAT THEY SHOULD NOW FEEL SAFE—OR AT least safer—Mary and Kitty were still apprehensive. Arriving at the mill owned by Aaron Wright, they were welcomed by his wife, Elizabeth, who escorted them to their lodgings for the night, a spacious and comfortable room in the rear of the mill office, with stuffed horsehair mattresses covering several sleeping pallets and a wood-burning stove in a corner for heat.

  At first, they were bewildered by the openness of the space, since they had become used to sleeping in dark and secretive places during their journey. But Aaron’s son, John, who had carried their bags to the room, assured them that there was no need for concern. Even though slave catchers had been seen on occasion traveling north from Maryland, he told them, none had ever stopped at their home or attempted to question them or their neighbors.

  “Thou are safe here,” John said. “Such men would not be welcome. Several of them have been arrested and jailed after they’ve entered Pennsylvania. Thou are protected by us and the laws.”

  Later that night, as Kitty struggled to fall asleep, grappling with relentless flashing images of manacles and nooses, whips, dark cellars, rushing floodwaters, and shadowy figures carrying guns, she wondered if the peace and security of real freedom would ever come her way. The sleep that she eventually found was brief, troubled, and sporadic, and she awoke with a deep-seated feeling of dread, which could not be erased by the glorious sunshine and promise of the new day.

  They left the Wright home shortly after breakfast, accompanied again by Aaron and John in their creaking, ponderous wagon. The trip to the farm of Amon Jones on Bear Mountain should take about one hour, they were told, although the last mile up the mountain would take up a good portion of that time, since the road was steep, winding, and narrow.

  On the way, they stopped to water the horses at a roadside tavern near the village of Bendersville. The owner, a hulking, bearded, genial man who introduced himself as Charley Myers, exchanged friendly banter with Aaron and John, and after the Wrights explained the presence of Mary, Kitty, and the children, he extended his hand to the women and offered what seemed like a heartfelt welcome to the area.

  The group arrived at the top of Bear Mountain at mid-afternoon, after a slow, arduous trek up the twisting gravelly lane. Kitty was anxious as they approached the Jones farm, not at all sure what was in store for her now that they had finally arrived at this new place. Mary had decided that she would remain nearby for a few weeks, while Kitty settled in, just in case there were any problems. While there, Mary also intended to execute a document, in a Pennsylvania court, making it clear that Kitty and the children had been manumitted and were, indeed, free.

  As the wagon and carriage came upon a small clearing, the dappled sunlight peeking through the canopy of trees overhead revealed a ramshackle log cabin wedged up against the side of a hill. A sagging masonry chimney claimed one exterior wall, and a lean-to holding stacked firewood the other, while an ancient oak tree stood guard over a stone well in the front yard.

  Kitty quickly surveyed the small homestead. Although the Maddox farmhouse, where she had spent her entire life, would never have been considered a plantation mansion, it had been spacious, well built, and comfortable. The Jones farmhouse appeared to be none of those things. But, she quickly reminded herself, it was just the beginning of her new life, a place to stay until she, and she alone, decided to leave. It might not have been pretty, but it represented the fact that she was now free.

  As they reined the horses in, the front door swung open and an old black man stepped outside. He was short and wiry, with tufts of white hair sprouting from the sides of his otherwise bald head. Dark overalls and a homespun cotton shirt hung loosely from his stooped frame.

  Aaron Wright jumped from his wagon to the ground and approached the old man, extending his hand in greeting. “I am Aaron Wright, from outside Gettysburg. This is my son, John,” he said, nodding in John’s direction. “And these are our friends who we are delivering to thy care,” he added, pointing toward Kitty and the children.

  “Amon Jones,” the old man said, shaking Aaron’s hand. “Wife, Rachel’s, out back but should be round soon.”

  Jones shifted his glance toward Kitty and Mary, who had dismounted and were walking in his direction. He stepped toward Kitty. “You be the one stayin’ here, I s’pose?” he asked somewhat dourly.

  “Y’sir,” Kitty said, extending her hand. “Name’s Kitty. And these are my children—Eliza Jane, Mary, and the little one’s Arthur.”

  The children, who were now standing in the back of the carriage and were extremely curious about this new place, each smiled shyly and nodded politely at Jones. When he saw the children, his mood seemed to improve and the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile.

  “Well, then,” he said, shaking Kitty’s hand, “y’all be welcome here. Wife’ll be thankful for the help. And sure be happy to see these chilluns. Long time since any little ones been round here.”

  Jones then looked quizzically at Mary, who was standing slightly behind Kitty. Mary stepped forward.

  “Mary Maddox,” she said, offering her hand in greeting, as well. “I’m Kitty’s . . .” She hesitated, uncertain what to say next.

  “Mary is our friend,” Kitty interjected quickly. “She was our mistress but has decided to free us—me and the children. She’s traveled all this way to look after us and be sure that we got here safely. She’s our friend,” Kitty repeated, smiling warmly at Mary.

  Jones seemed slightly surprised but simply nodded respectfully at Mary. “Well, then, you be welcome here, too,” he said. “Not much room, ’specially with these here chilluns now, but we be happy to find you some space somewhere.”

  “That’s quite kind of you, Mr. Jones,” Mary said, “but Mr. Wright here has helped me make some boarding arrangements for a time at a home down the mountain.”

  Aaron Wright clapped his hands happily and stepped f
orward. “Now that the introductions have been made, let us help thee with thy bags and to get settled in,” he said, directing John toward the carriage.

  The children climbed down, scrambled over to Kitty, and clustered anxiously around her, their little hands clutching at her skirt. Kitty bent to speak to them.

  “We’ll be stayin’ here for a while,” she said soothingly, “with Mr. Amon and Miss Rachel. They’re nice folks who’ll take good care of us.”

  “No more ridin’ in the carriage at night?” Eliza Jane asked in a small, trembling voice.

  “No more ridin’ at night,” Kitty assured her, gently touching the upturned face of each child. “No more runnin’ away.”

  CHAPTER 41

  THREE WEEKS PASSED WITH NO SIGN OF SAM MADDOX OR THE SLAVE catchers. Kitty and the children had settled in at the Jones farm, quickly and seamlessly becoming a part of the rhythms and patterns of daily life. Kitty helped Rachel with the cooking, the laundry, and general work around the cramped four-room cabin, while Eliza Jane and Mary pitched in, as well. Little Arthur, after a fitful first night, seemed to have recovered nicely from the anxieties of their harrowing journey and now toddled happily around the cabin and property.

  Mary, meanwhile, had taken a room in a home at the bottom of the mountain, outside Bendersville. She visited Kitty and the children almost daily and actually helped out with some of the chores on those visits. Rachel Jones, who was in her sixties and was struggling with a variety of physical infirmities, appeared pleased to have the help and also seemed to enjoy the company of both Kitty and Mary. Amon Jones, however, was more taciturn and distant, rarely speaking with Kitty or the children as he went about his business, struggling to manage the meager farm and also working part-time as a butcher in Bendersville.

  After the first few days, Mary had traveled to the Adams County Courthouse in a neighboring village, where the local justice of the peace had helped her prepare and execute a deed of manumission, officially declaring that Kitty, Eliza Jane, Mary, and Arthur were, in fact, legally free. He had assured her that the document, together with the fact that Pennsylvania had passed a law outlawing slavery and declaring that any slaves brought into the state would be deemed to be free, would protect Kitty and the children from any attempt by Sam Maddox to seize them and bring them back to Virginia.