American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  When she heard Seth stirring behind her, she motioned him forward. Seth sat up and crawled forward.

  “What is it, Mother?” he asked.

  “We crossed the border,” she said softly. “We’re in Pennsylvania.”

  “We made it!” cried Seth.

  “Shh!” she motioned with her finger. “I’d rather keep them quiet and hidden until—”

  But Lucindy was awake and had heard.

  “We’s cross ober dat riber Jordan!” they heard her exclaim beneath them. “Hallelujah… da promised lan’!”

  Seth and Carolyn could not help breaking into laughter.

  They rode into the town called Hanover a little over two hours later, Lucindy and the children now sitting up and gazing around them, the young mother with wide-eyed curiosity as if she expected this town of the promised land of the North to be paved with streets of gold. But it looked no different than a thousand other towns on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line.

  “Now what do we do?” asked Seth.

  “I don’t know,” replied his mother. “The only clue we have is a horse’s head.”

  “There’s the livery stable down there at the end of the street,” said Seth. “That’s probably as good a place to start as anywhere.”

  They continued on toward it, then Seth reined in and got down.

  “What’s your husband’s name again, Lucindy?” he asked.

  She told him, and Seth went inside. Five minutes later he returned.

  “No one in there’s heard of him,” he said. “I’m going to try the blacksmith’s shop. They also told me about a man with some stables on the north side of town who sells horses.”

  He walked to the nearby blacksmith’s shop but returned a few minutes later shaking his head. He climbed back up and took the reins. A few minutes later they were leaving Hanover by the northbound road.

  “There, that’s it,” said Seth, pulling up in front of one of the last houses in town. Behind it were several corrals with a dozen or more horses inside. “I’ll go see what they have to say.”

  Again he got down and walked toward the house. While they were waiting, Carolyn and Lucindy gazed about. A few farmhouses could be seen out in the surrounding countryside. Two men were out ploughing in the distance. Mostly the land was cultivated, but one or two pastures were dotted with grazing cattle.

  Seth returned again with the same news. It was obvious that Lucindy was close to tears. What good would freedom do if she and the children were alone?

  “What’s we gwine do, Missus Dav’son?” she said in a forlorn voice.

  Carolyn thought a moment, then smiled.

  “Do you remember what I have been telling you about God being our good Father?” she said.

  “Yes’m.”

  “Because he is our Father, he knows what we need, and he wants to give us what we need. He is Caleb’s Father too. God knows where he is right at this moment.”

  “He duz!”

  “Of course. God is looking down at Caleb right now, just like he is looking at us. Imagine that—God can see all of you right now, your whole family. We don’t know where Caleb is, but God does. So we have to ask him what to do.”

  “Den let’s ax him!”

  Carolyn bowed her heard and closed her eyes.

  “Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “we don’t know what to do. Lucindy’s come all this way to find her husband, but we don’t know where he is. But we know that you do. So please show us where Caleb is, and what you want us to do. If he’s still a spy hiding out somewhere in this land of milk and honey, then we need for you to lead us to where he’s hiding.”

  Suddenly little Broan’s voice shouted out almost before Carolyn had finished, “Look, dere’s a horse!”

  They turned and followed his hand where he was pointing to the top of a large farmhouse about a hundred yards farther along the road. On top of its pitched roof rose a black metal weathervane displaying the head of a horse rather than a rooster.

  Lucindy gasped. Carolyn glanced over and saw a look of shocked astonishment on her face. “Da win’,” she said. “Da win’ in da horse’s head!”

  Seth flicked the reins again and they bounded into motion. A couple of minutes later, trembling inside, Lucindy and Carolyn, this time more hopeful, followed Seth to the front door of the house beneath the horse’s head while the three children waited in the wagon. Seth knocked on the door.

  A woman answered wearing a long gray dress with white collar, a sight familiar to Lucindy from her months of travel. She looked over her three callers with a questioning glance.

  “Good day,” said Carolyn, stepping forward. “I wonder if by chance you might be able to help us. We are looking for a man called Caleb… a colored man.”

  “I do not know the name,” answered the woman. “What wouldst be thy business with him?”

  “This is his wife,” answered Carolyn, nodding toward Lucindy.

  “I am sorry I cannot help thee.”

  Disheartened, they turned to go as the door closed, and began walking back to the wagon.

  “Wait,” said a voice behind them.

  They turned to see the woman again in the door. “I just thought thee might have interest to know of a man called Broancaleb—”

  Lucindy’s eyes shot wide.

  “—a strange name, dost thee not think,” added the woman, “but he said there wast but one person in the world who needed understand it, and when she heard, she would know the meaning.”

  “Is he here?” asked Carolyn. At that moment, shout though she would have, Lucindy had lost her voice.

  “He is our hired field servant, good lady.”

  “Where is he?”

  “There, in the field with my husband.”

  She pointed to the two men they had noticed, one white, one black, the one leading a team of oxen, the other wielding a plough behind it.

  Already Lucindy had pulled her dress up above her ankles and was running away from the house over the freshly upturned earth toward the two men as fast as her legs would take her.

  When Carolyn, carrying Calebia, and Seth, carrying Rebecca with his one good arm, and little Broan hurrying to keep up, reached them, the father and mother of the three children were still in one another’s arms. The good Quaker farmer continued to stare in bewilderment. Hearing shrieks a moment before, he had turned to see a black woman racing toward them, then watched his man drop the plough and hurry to meet her with outstretched arms.

  As they fell apart, Lucindy babbling and crying for joy, Caleb glanced about, then dropped to one knee with a big smile as the others approached.

  “Dis big feller be my man Broan!” he said.

  “Papa?” said Broan softly. He only faintly remembered his daddy, but it was enough. The next instant he was up in the big man’s arms in the grip of a great hug, a wide smile of long-belated happiness on his seven-year-old face. This he certainly remembered! Rebecca followed, though without memory to aid her, was shy at first and clung to Lucindy’s dress. Then Lucindy went to Carolyn, whose eyes were wet at sight of the wonderful reunion, and took the youngest girl from her. Lucindy turned and handed their daughter to Caleb.

  “Who dis?” he asked.

  “Dis be yo’ daughter, Caleb,” she said proudly. “I wuz carryin’ her w’en you lef’. I named her after you.”

  Caleb took the little girl in his arms, tears now pouring down his dirt-stained black cheeks in full measure.

  “Da Lor’ be praized!” was all he could say. “Da Lor’ be praized!”

  Gradually more introductions followed, then they slowly walked back to the farmhouse, where Carolyn explained that part of the story she was personally acquainted with to the Quaker farmer and his wife, who had taken Caleb in over a year before. Within an hour Carolyn knew that in Frederick and Sarah Mueller she had indeed discovered kindred spirits. How she wished Richmond was with them! She could envision her husband and the Quaker man glancing at one another, mutually seeking opportunit
y to excuse themselves, and then spending the rest of the afternoon out in the fields talking earnestly about the high things of God.

  Anxious to begin their homeward journey and get as far as possible before nightfall, two hours later Seth and Carolyn prepared to make their departure.

  Carolyn took Lucindy in her arms and the young woman began to bawl.

  “I can’t neber thank you, Missus Dab’son,” she blubbered. “I’s neber forgit all you dun fo’ us. We owe you an’ Mister Dab’son our freedom. You wuz so good ter us. An’ you helped me know who my real Father wuz.”

  “Oh, Lucindy,” said Carolyn as she held the young black mother affectionately, “that is the best thanks you could ever give me! We will never forget you, either. You are a special friend.”

  Full of the humility of gratefulness, Caleb shook Seth’s hand. Carolyn gave each of the children a final hug, and at last, with many tears on all sides, they were off.

  As Seth and Carolyn rode back into Hanover and then south toward the Maryland border, what remained of the day passed quietly in a mood of happy, thoughtful melancholy. Carolyn found herself wondering if they were now part of the mysterious U.G.R.R.

  She could not help thinking that this was probably not their last encounter with it.

  While his neighbor’s wife and son were away on their clandestine mission of mercy, Denton Beaumont sat on the train toward home after his eventful meeting with Frederick Trowbridge and Abraham Seehorn. He was elated beyond words. Deep down it rankled his innate pride to be in a position of subservience to two men who had passed him over once before, especially in light of the possibility it might be cast up to him the moment he did something they didn’t like. There was nothing he hated more than being beholden to any man. It made him feel owned… like a slave.

  But for this prize… it was a price he was willing to pay. And his reservations were outweighed by the tremendous satisfaction of knowing that Virginia’s party leadership had at last come to its senses and anointed him its standard-bearer for the future.

  By the time the train pulled into the Dove’s Landing station, Denton Beaumont was already beginning to carry himself with the dignity, and perhaps a touch of hauteur, of his new position. This was vindication indeed for last year’s loss.

  As he stepped out onto the platform and looked around him, it was with no small pride that he realized himself indisputably the most important man for miles—soon to be one of Virginia’s most powerful and influential men, and a national figure of prominence.

  How and when he would break the news to Daphne and Veronica… that he hadn’t decided yet. They would go wild with delight! He smiled to himself. Knowing his wife and daughter, they would probably start buying new dresses and planning their Washington social calendar immediately.

  If only there wasn’t the idiocy of Veronica’s marriage to contend with, they could all pack up and leave for Washington right now. For two cents, he would contrive to be in the capital at the time and miss the whole thing. But he knew neither Veronica nor Daphne would stand for that. He would just make the best of it he could, alternating his time between the capital and Oakbriar.

  He could afford to wait another few months before beginning his new life in the corridors of power at the heart of the nation.

  With satisfied and overflowing hearts, Carolyn and Seth rode into Greenwood the following day, having no idea that during their absence along with Denton’s, news of Seth’s dinner at Oakbriar had finally reached a few influential tongues and was now spreading like a brush fire. The proposed union was now on everyone’s lips throughout Dove’s Landing.

  Within a week of their return from the Pennsylvania border, word was all over town that Denton Beaumont and Seth Davidson had talked. An arrangement between their families was discussed.

  If the term engagement was not formally used, word had it that they had come to an understanding. And everyone knew well enough what that meant.

  Fifty-five

  On a black South Carolina night, with scarcely enough moon to create shadows in the woods, much less see by, a certain ticket mistress of the U.G.R.R. handed off a new passenger for whom instructions had come to her a few days before. As she turned to walk back to the big house where she managed to come and go almost at liberty, the conductor’s voice behind her broke the stillness.

  “Wait jes’ er minute,” he said. “I dun fergot—I got’s sumfin’ I figger you might like ter see.”

  He pulled a crumpled letter out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Where’d hit cum from?” said the large woman as she took it.

  “Don’ know. Cum ter one ob dem Quaker depots ’long da line an’ hit’s been gittin’ passed back’ ards down da R.R. from han’ er conductor ter han’ er conducter eber since. Nobody know’s where hit’s from. Sumbody muster knowed which line ter sen’ hit on. Jes’ got one word on da envelope, dey said w’en hit got ter da right place, folks’d know.”

  “What word?”

  “Jes’ Amaritta—dat’s all.”

  Several hours later, with the morning sun beginning to spread its warmth over the South Carolina countryside, Amaritta Beecham turned from the cookstove with a smile on her face. There stood her mistress who had walked into the room behind her only a moment before.

  “What’s that you just put in the stove?” said Mrs. Crawford.

  “Nuffin’er no value, missus,” replied Amaritta.

  “I want to know what it was.”

  “Jes’ some scraps er paper, missus.”

  “Then what are you grinning about?”

  “I wuz jes’ thinkin’ what a fine mo’nin’ hit is, missus, an’ how happy I is ter be alive.”

  Muttering something under her breath which it was just as well her housekeeper did not hear, Mrs. Crawford spun around and left the room.

  Amaritta turned back to the stove and opened the small door once again. She could just make out a few fading words on the paper that had traveled so far as it curled into flame. But she would never forget the words. She had read the brief message through eight times before committing it to the altar of a grateful heart:

  Dear Amaritta. I’s havin’ sumbody dat kin rite put dese words down. I’s hope an’ pray dis fin’ you sumday. Me an’ my chilluns be safe an’ we’s wif dat spy an’ you knows who I means. We dun got ’cross dat Riber Jordan an’ foun’ dat win’ in dat horse’s head. Da railroad cum off da tracks one time, but God dun pick me up an’ took me eben w’ere dose tracks don’ go. But I’s be shure glad he did cuz I met sum good folks dat helped me mor’n I kin tell you ’bout. I’s grateful fo’ yo’ help, mor’n I kin say too. I wish I cud see you ter tell you all ’bout hit. My man’s got him er job an’ we’s happier den we kin be. I’s neber fergit you. I’s see you in heaben one day w’en we all gits ter dat big promised lan’, an’ I’s tell you everything den. You’s da bes’ ticket mistress in da whole worl’. Dis be from Lucindy.

  Endnotes

  Prologue Notes

  Out of the Unknown Past

  “‘About the last of August came in a dutch man of warre that sold us twenty Negers,’ John Rolfe of Jamestown, Virginia, wrote in his record of 1619. They were the first blacks known to have entered a mainland English colony. Although they had been ‘sold,’ their status was probably that of white indentured servants; if so, they were freed after a fixed period of service.

  “Though the original legal status of blacks in Virginia was nebulous, it was quickly given form by legislation and court decisions. A black indentured servant was enslaved for life in 1640 as punishment for running away. His two white companions simply had their term of indenture lengthened. In 1659 the term ‘Negro slave’ first appeared in legislation designed to encourage the importation of slaves. Finally, in 1662 it was decided that the child of a black woman ‘shall be bond or free according to the condition of the mother.’ Slavery had become hereditary.

  “A 1705 Virginia law broadened and codified the rights of white servants.
It also defined the role of black slaves as ‘real estate [which] shall descend unto heirs and widows.’ If slaves escaped, anyone might legally ‘kill and destroy’ them. Their masters would then be compensated by the colony—for loss of property.

  “Colonists unable to meet their need for laborers with indentured servants increasingly turned to slaves. Between 1670 and 1700 the white population of the English colonies doubled. In the same period the number of blacks increased fivefold.” [Historical Atlas of the United States, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic, 1993, p. 40.]

  “Olaudah Equiano was a Nigerian prince. When he was about ten years old he and his sister were captured and sold into slavery…. The children were sold and separated.

  “After a long and weary journey overland, the slave traders and the young boy reached a ship that was anchored at sea. Many other Africans were on board the ship…. All the captives were chained together….

  “When the ship arrived in America, Olaudah was sold to an Englishman…. He changed Olaudah’s name to Gustavus Vassa… but deep inside, Olaudah knew that he was an Ibo prince, the son of an African chief.” [Angela Medearis, Come This Far To Freedom. New York: Atheneum, 1993, pp. 8-10.]

  “African cargo was advertised to British colonists by handbills. Many buyers preferred slaves from particular regions of Africa….

  “Chained together by twos at both hands and feet, African men were stacked like firewood—as were women and children—in the dank, filthy holds of slave ships. Overcrowding and lack of sanitation allowed diseases such as smallpox and dysentery to spread throughout the human cargo. Africans who lived through the long voyage survived one terrifying nightmare only to encounter another—life on southern plantations.” [Historical Atlas of the United States, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic, 1993, p. 41.]

  Dispersion

  “During the 18th century, the peak of the slave trade, Britain cornered the lion’s share of a profitable business. Some 40 percent of slaves sent to the New World were carried in British ships. Most of them were taken to the plantations of the Caribbean; relatively few ended up in mainland North America.