Chariot on the Mountain

by Jack Ford

  Just then, Fanny entered the room, carrying a small stack of books. She stopped short, surprised to find Maddox and Katie there.

  “My apologies,” Fanny said coolly. “Didn’t know you were here visitin’, Sam.”

  “He just got back and stopped in to say hello,” said Katie pleasantly.

  “Have you been travelin’?” Fanny asked.

  Maddox nodded but said nothing.

  “He was gone, chasin’ after some runaway slaves,” Katie chimed in. “Finally tracked ’em down and brought ’em back,” she added with a touch of pride.

  Now curious and concerned, Fanny softened her tone and offered Maddox a slight smile. “That so?” she said. “Whose slaves?”

  “Mine,” Maddox answered.

  Fanny frowned. “Thought you just had the one old man workin’ on your place. And hadn’t heard anything about you havin’ any runaways.”

  Maddox shrugged. “Inherited some from my uncle when he died,” he said. “Some of ’em—a woman and some children—ran off a few weeks ago. Took a while to track ’em down, but finally found ’em up north, in Pennsylvania.”

  Fanny struggled to contain her alarm. Clearly, Maddox did not know—or suspect—that Fanny had anything to do with the escaped slaves. She decided to play along with him to find out as many details as possible before she contacted Mary.

  “How’d they get all the way up there?” Fanny asked innocently.

  “Had some help. Damn Quakers! Think they can be buttin’ into our business,” Maddox said, his tone tinged with irritation. “Anyway,” he added after a brief pause, the anger washing away as quickly as it had appeared, “found ’em in the end and got ’em back.”

  “All of them?” asked Fanny.

  “Yep.” Maddox nodded.

  “Any problems? Damage to the slaves?” Fanny asked.

  “Nope,” Maddox said. “Well, had to teach the woman a bit of a lesson, but not so much that it’ll cost me anything when I sell her,” he added.

  “You plan on sellin’ them off? All of them?” asked Fanny. “After all the effort to get ’em back?”

  “Yep,” said Sam Maddox.

  “He’s headin’ to Charleston day after tomorrow to sell ’em,” Katie added. “Get a much better price for ’em down there.”

  Fanny nodded knowingly. “Makes sense,” she said. “Charleston auctions serve a much bigger market than around here. Prices should be a good deal higher.”

  Maddox shook his head as he took another sip of his tea. “That’s what I’m countin’ on,” he said.

  “Will you sell them as a family? Keep them together?” Fanny asked, straining to keep her voice conversational.

  “Don’t much care,” answered Maddox. “Together, separate—makes no damn difference to me. Whichever gets me more money.”

  “We’ve always tried to keep families together here,” said Fanny. “Keeps everybody happier, so they work better,” she added.

  Maddox just shrugged. “Don’t really care,” he repeated. “Not as if they’re some kinda real people who got feelings like us. Just a bunch of niggras, after all. Once I sell ’em, don’t care what happens to ’em.”

  “But,” began Fanny, “it’s a mother and her children. Wouldn’t you want—”

  “Why do you care?” interrupted Katie. “None of our business what Sam does with his property,” she added defensively.

  Fanny took a deep breath to compose herself and suppress her irritation. “Quite right. None of our business at all,” Fanny agreed as she forced a tight smile.

  Katie nodded, shot a flirtatious look at Maddox, who was still slouching in his chair, and turned back toward Fanny. “We’re just about to have some sweet cakes. Will you join us?” she asked half-heartedly.

  “Thank you for the kind invitation, but I need to attend to some matters,” Fanny answered.

  “Suit yourself,” said Katie, clearly relieved that Fanny would not be staying any longer.

  “Well, then,” said Fanny coolly, now anxious to get away from them. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She inclined her head toward Maddox. “Safe travels, Sam. Hope your trip goes well.”

  “Thank you, Fanny,” Maddox said. “Pleasure seeing you, as always,” he added with an unctuous smile.

  Fanny slipped from the room, then closed the parlor doors behind her. She stood in the hallway for a moment, thinking. Then she hurried down the center hall and out through the kitchen in the rear and walked rapidly in the direction of the slave quarters.

  CHAPTER 48

  “MISS FANNY SAY YOU NEED TO COME RIGHT AWAY,” THE YOUNG black man said earnestly. “She say it’s a ’mergency.”

  The slave stood in the doorway of Mary’s farmhouse, panting from exertion after his cross-country ride on the back of the mule that now waited patiently, pawing the ground, a few feet behind him.

  “Miss Fanny say you need to come,” he repeated, his eyes wide and his lithe teenage body held ramrod straight. It was obvious that he felt the great responsibility of his job as messenger.

  As soon as Sam Maddox had ridden away from the Withers plantation, Fanny had dispatched the trusted young slave to find Mary and bring her immediately to Fanny’s home. She had instructed him not to leave Mary until she had agreed to accompany him to the house.

  “Is Fanny ill?” Mary asked anxiously.

  “No, ma’am. Miss Fanny fine,” he answered. “But she awful upset.” He shook his head. “She say you need to come,” he insisted for the third time.

  Mary was puzzled, but she knew that Fanny would not summon her in this way unless it was important.

  “You go right on back and tell Miss Fanny I’m on my way,” Mary said. “I’ll get my wagon and be right behind you.”

  The young boy nodded vigorously, relieved that he had done his job successfully. He quickly turned and sprinted to his mule, jumped on, and coaxed the animal into a reluctant trot across a field, in the direction of the Withers plantation. Mary ran into the house, grabbed a coat and her medical bag—just in case—and hurried toward the barn.

  When Mary drove up the long driveway, Fanny was outside waiting for her, pacing back and forth across the veranda. She rushed to the wagon as Mary climbed down, then took her by the hand and guided her away from the front of the house.

  “Something terrible has happened,” Fanny exclaimed breathlessly, glancing furtively around to be sure that they could not be overheard.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mary.

  “Sam found Kitty,” Fanny said.

  “What?” exclaimed Mary. “How?”

  “Don’t know for sure,” Fanny answered. “All I know is that he’s got her and the children. And he’s planning on selling them all.”

  Mary shook her head, stunned by the news.

  “But . . . I don’t understand,” Mary said, struggling to comprehend what Fanny was telling her. “When I left her in Pennsylvania, she was fine. She was living with a family that was taking care of her. Nobody knew who she was—or where she was from. I even signed emancipation papers for her and the children. How could he . . . ?” Her voice trailed off, as she was overtaken by despair.

  Fanny reached out and placed her arm around her friend to console her. Mary looked into Fanny’s eyes.

  “How do you know about this?” she asked.

  “Sam was here. This morning,” Fanny answered. “Came to visit Katie. When I walked in on them, he was telling her all about it. I pretended to be impressed—and he surely doesn’t know that I was involved at all—and he told me his plans.”

  “He’s going to sell them?” Mary repeated, incredulous at the news.

  Fanny shook her head. “But not round here,” Fanny said. “Plans on taking them down to Charleston and selling them there. Said he’d get a much better price for them down there—that they’d probably be taken farther south and sold again.”

  Mary’s hands went to her face, her eyes wide with dread at the notion of Kitty and the children being sold off to the d
readed Deep South plantations.

  “Where are they now? When is he plannin’ on leavin’ for Charleston? How—” Mary asked, questions pouring out at a rapid-fire pace.

  “Wait! Just wait a second,” Fanny interrupted evenly. “Just calm down so we can figure this all out.”

  Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nodded. “Where are they now?” Mary asked, fighting to regain her composure.

  “Not sure, but I think they’re at Sam’s,” Fanny said.

  “And when’s he plannin’ on headin’ to Charleston?” asked Mary.

  “Day after tomorrow,” said Fanny. “Had to get his wagon fixed first. Busted an axle. Was taking it to be fixed this afternoon.”

  Mary’s head jerked up. “This afternoon?”

  Fanny nodded her head.

  “So he’ll be gone from his place for a while?” Mary asked.

  “Think so,” said Fanny, shooting her a suspicious look. “Why?” Mary’s jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m going to go get them,” Mary answered.

  “What?” cried Fanny.

  “I’m going to go get them,” Mary said determinedly. “Get them away from him. Before it’s too late.”

  “And do what with them?” asked Fanny. “Don’t you think if they go missing that Sam’ll know right away that you took them? And come looking for you?”

  “Don’t care what he knows,” Mary said. “Just know that I can’t let him take them.”

  “Even if you do find them,” said an exasperated Fanny, “what will you do? Where will you hide them? And then what?”

  Mary was quiet for a moment, pondering what to do next. “Not sure yet. Maybe we head back to Pennsylvania. Maybe somewhere else.” She looked at Fanny, the fear in her eyes now replaced by anger and determination. “All I know is I have to get them away from him.” She paused. “And I’ll do whatever it takes!”

  “What about taking Sam to court? Get a judge to step in and stop him,” said Fanny.

  Mary shook her head. “Not enough time. They’d be gone by the time we got to a judge. None scheduled to be round here for a couple weeks. And no guarantee that a judge would agree with me and stop him,” Mary said, shaking her head. “No. Got to go get ’em. And right away,” she added resolutely.

  Both women were silent, facing each other like statues in a museum, both lost in their own thoughts.

  Finally, Fanny spoke.

  “Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

  Mary simply nodded.

  “Well, then,” Fanny said, “we’ll need a plan.”

  Mary cocked her head, unsure what Fanny was suggesting. “What do you mean?” Mary asked.

  “I mean just what I said,” Fanny answered. “We need a plan.”

  “Listen to me, Fanny,” Mary said, taking her friend’s hands in hers. “This is different. What you did to help us before—giving us the horse and carriage to take us away, helping us with our plans—nobody knew about that. Still don’t. But this . . . this is different. If we do this—you and me—people will know. They’ll know that you were a part of it. That you helped slaves escape.” Mary shook her head sadly. “This could ruin you. I can’t let you do this.”

  Fanny gazed hard at her. “Don’t remember asking for your permission,” Fanny said sternly but not unkindly. “In case you haven’t noticed it before, I tend to follow my own drummer. Never really much cared what other folks thought. Not much sense in starting now.”

  “But—” Mary began.

  “But nothing,” Fanny interrupted. “Here’s how I see it. Sam Maddox is an evil man. Never liked him, never will, and you know that. And he’s planning on doing a terrible thing to Kitty and her children. My daddy—and his daddy before him—always taught me that you need to be kind as possible to your slaves. Try to make them feel like they’re part of the family. And that meant never splitting up their family.” She paused and took a deep breath. “He’s an evil man,” she repeated. “And someone should stop him. I’m not sure how, but I am sure it’s got to be done. And I know you could probably do it on your own,” she said with a wry grin, “but what fun would that be for me?”

  Mary stood staring at her friend. Finally, she reached out and hugged her.

  “Guess there’s not much chance of talkin’ you out of this?” Mary asked.

  “About a donkey’s chance in a thoroughbred race,” Fanny answered decisively.

  “Well, then,” Mary said, “guess we need to get a move on.”

  “I’ll have the carriage brought around right away. Sooner we get there, better the chance that we can free them before Sam gets back.”

  “Then what?” said Mary.

  “Figure that out later,” said Fanny. “Let’s go get ’em first.”

  CHAPTER 49

  THE TWO WOMEN RACED THE SETTING SUN TOWARD SAM MADDOX’S farm. They were traveling in the same carriage that had carried Kitty to freedom in Pennsylvania, and they were now hopeful of carrying her to safety once again.

  After careening up the drive to the small, derelict farmhouse, Mary reined the horse in as they pulled up to the front porch. Maddox was nowhere to be seen, nor was his wagon. Mary and Fanny climbed down and looked cautiously about as they approached the front door. They opened the door and peered warily inside. There was no sign that anyone was home.

  Retracing their steps, they moved quickly to the barn. The barn door was wide open. Again, they peeked inside but saw nothing. No horse. No wagon. And no Kitty.

  Both women stepped away from the barn, their eyes frantically searching the property, fearful that they might be too late and that Sam Maddox may have already left with Kitty and the children. Fanny spotted the corner of a swaybacked wooden shed peeking out from the side of the barn. She nudged Mary and inclined her head in the direction of the shed. As they got closer, they could see that the door was closed with a length of lumber wedged up against it at an angle, to prevent it from being pushed open from the inside.

  Mary kicked at the piece of wood, dislodging it, and Fanny tugged at the door. It screeched open on rusty hinges, disclosing a storage area containing a scattered assortment of tools, farm equipment, and boxes. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, a shaft of dust-filled light revealed what first looked like large bundles stacked near the rear wall. They stepped inside, picked their way carefully through the rubble, and then stopped abruptly. One of the bundles moved.

  Rushing to the rear of the shed, they realized that the bundles were actually Kitty and the three children. As she bent down to them, Mary gasped.

  They were all lying on the earthen floor, with iron cuffs around their ankles and lengths of chain shackling them to each other and anchored to the wall. The children raised their heads weakly, their eyes staring blankly. Kitty did not look up, didn’t move at all. Mary lifted Kitty’s head off the floor. She gasped again, this time more from horror than surprise.

  Kitty’s face was battered, a spiderweb of scabbed cuts and scratches on both cheeks, one eye swollen shut, an ugly purple bruise surrounding it. She was wrapped in a moth-eaten, threadbare coat that barely covered a ripped, filthy sleeping gown. Mary shook her gently, fearful that she might be dead.

  Slowly, groggily, Kitty opened her one good eye a crack and peered uncomprehendingly at the two women. Mary spoke to her softly.

  “Kitty! We’re here. We’re going to get you out of here. Kitty?”

  Mary turned to Fanny. “Help me get her up,” she said to Fanny.

  Fanny bent down and grasped Kitty by the shoulders. She and Mary carefully lifted and propped Kitty up in a sitting position.

  “I’ll get some water,” said Fanny, and then she hurried out of the shed and headed toward the well in front of the barn.

  “Kitty,” Mary said to her again. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

  Slowly, Kitty’s good eye seemed to come into focus, and recognition set in. She cocked her head to one side so she could see better. “Mistress,” Kitty said, her voice a
raspy whisper. “Please . . . get us . . . away from here.”

  Mary shook her head. “We will,” she answered, her fingertips softly brushing Kitty’s damaged face.

  “Sam . . . ?” Kitty muttered through swollen lips.

  “Not here,” said Mary. “In town, fixin’ up his wagon. We’ll get you away from here now . . . while he’s gone.”

  Kitty nodded weakly. “The children?” she asked.

  Mary twisted her head toward the children and was glad to see that all three of them were now awake and sitting up. Although little Arthur still seemed somewhat dazed, the two girls recognized her and were tugging on their chains, reaching out to her.

  “Mistress Mary,” said Eliza Jane in a barely audible squeak. “You take us home now?”

  “Yes. Yes,” Mary said, smiling kindly at them while trying to keep from bursting into tears. “I’ll take you home now.”

  Mary turned back toward Kitty. “The children are fine,” she told her.

  Fanny burst back into the shed, carrying a bucket of water and a ladle. She stooped down to Kitty first, scooped a ladleful of water, and pressed it to Kitty’s lips.

  Kitty shook her head. “Children first,” she rasped.

  “We’ll take care of the children,” Fanny said. “But need to get you on your feet first. So, here . . . Take this,” Fanny said, then tilted the ladle so the water began to dribble into Kitty’s mouth.

  Kitty tilted her head back and opened her cracked lips as the water trickled down her throat. She coughed, spilling some of the water, then drank some more. Then she inclined her head toward the children.

  “Now them,” she said, her voice a bit stronger.

  Fanny took the bucket, knelt in front of the children, and allowed each one to gulp from the ladle.

  “How’d you find us?” Kitty asked, straightening herself up.

  “Tell you later,” Mary answered. “Right now, we got to get y’all away from here. Quick as we can. Before Sam gets back.”