“No, and you will be free to move on whenever you want to, as long as you never say a word about the Davidson plantation to another soul, even after you get to the North.”
“I kin do dat, Mister Dab’son. Silas kin keep his mouf shut when he’s got to.”
And so it was arranged.
On the day of their scheduled departure, Sydney and Chigua and the children dressed in what clothes their hosts had been able to find for them to further the scheme, Sydney in one of Richmond’s old business suits and Chigua in a dress of Carolyn’s, neither the best-fitting but adequate.
Then they all loaded themselves into Greenwood’s largest carriage, with appropriate luggage to complete the illusion, and set out for Dove’s Landing and the station.
Richmond had timed their arrival to perfection. They had just finished purchasing three adult and four children’s tickets to Philadelphia when Jarvis reined in at the platform and Denton Beaumont stepped down from his carriage. In obvious surprise, he looked over the family gathered with Richmond, a slender black man in a suit at Richmond’s side with briefcase in hand. Beaumont had never seen any of them before, and he did not like surprises of this kind.
“Denton, hello!” said Richmond expansively, walking toward him with outstretched hand. “You’re not… taking the train today?”
“Actually, yes… yes I am. I am heading for Washington. Hello, Carolyn.”
Carolyn smiled, though inside her heart was pounding for what the man was thinking.
“Why that’s wonderful,” said Richmond. “We will be traveling together. It will give us a chance to catch up.”
Beaumont’s eyes continued to scan the motley assortment of blacks with an inquisitive and not-altogether-happy expression.
“But you don’t know my friends,” Richmond went on. “Please meet Sydney LeFleure, his wife Chigua, and their four children.
Sydney… Chigua… this is our friend and neighbor Denton Beaumont.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Beaumont,” said Sydney in his most flawless Jamaican English, extending his hand.
Reluctantly, Beaumont shook it. “Yes, I uh… had heard you had guests from the North,” he said in Richmond’s general direction. “What is it you do, Mr. …uh, LeFleure?”
“My background is in sugar exportation, mostly to Europe,” replied Sydney. “More recently, however, most of my activities have been associated with the cotton trade.”
“Sydney is French, Denton,” said Richmond, “and his wife is a full-blood Cherokee.”
“Ah, yes… I see.”
“I am accompanying them as far as Philadelphia, where I have some business to attend to.”
“And you, Carolyn?”
“No, I am staying here. I only brought Richmond and our friends to the station.”
“Right… well, I need to see to my luggage,” said Beaumont with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “It was, uh… a pleasure to, uh, make your acquaintance,” he added with an unenthusiastic glance toward Sydney.
Beaumont continued inside the station. The slowing train was already visible coming toward them, and the six pilgrims and their surreptitious guide were already inside one of the coaches and comfortably seated before they saw Denton Beaumont again.
The Underground Railroad had temporarily hijacked the Baltimore and Ohio to transport its clandestine cargo on the final leg of its northern journey.
When Richmond returned five days later, Carolyn was as full of questions as he was of smiles and laughter.
“It all went without a hitch,” he said. “Denton avoided us like the plague.”
“And Chigua and the children?”
“They are situated in a small apartment in the outskirts of Philadelphia. I paid the landlord for two months’ rent, and Travers assures me he will have work for Sydney within a week.”
“Oh, that is wonderful… I am so relieved!”
“Sydney was beautiful! He played his role to perfection. After we had been on the train about an hour, he went over to Denton, who was seated alone, sat down with a great smile, and engaged him in conversation.”
“I can hardly imagine it! Denton must have been beside himself.”
“Let’s just say that his discomfort was obvious. ‘Richmond tells me you are an important man in Washington,’ Sydney said. ‘I am fascinated, Mr. Beaumont—I have been thinking of entering politics one day myself.
Richmond laughed again. “I could hardly believe his audacity. And he sat there asking question after question, as Denton squirmed in his seat… it wouldn’t have occurred to him in a million years that the articulate, well-informed, intelligent, good-looking man in front of him might be a runaway slave. There was even a man who boarded the trail for a short while called Murdoch—”
“Not the bounty hunter!” exclaimed Carolyn.
“I believe so. He and Denton exchanged words together. He was a man whose looks I did not like. But with Sydney sitting there across from Denton at the time, the man hardly took a second look at him.”
“Oh, Richmond… that man is dangerous!”
“Well, nothing became of it, and now they are safely in Pennsylvania. Where are the boys?”
“Out in the shop. I think they are working on that project you gave them about the new weathervane.”
Richmond found Seth and Thomas in the workshop as Carolyn had said.
“Hey, Tom… Seth!” he greeted them. “How are you two doing?”
“Good, Dad,” replied Seth, setting down the saw in his hand. “When did you get back?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“You have a good trip?”
“Great. Sydney and his family are safely in the North.”
“But, Dad,” said Thomas as if continuing with some previous conversation that had been gnawing at him, “what you are doing is breaking the law. I still don’t see how you can justify it.”
“A law that deprives freedom from any human being, especially one that perpetuates cruelty between men, is an evil law, Thomas,” replied his father. “I take the command to obey the law of the land with utmost seriousness. But the Fugitive Slave Law and other laws upholding slavery in the South are wrong. Good men must stand against such evil. Too many in this country have been quiet for too long in the face of it.”
“And why do we have to make this stupid weathervane?” said Thomas. “Why should we be in danger because of runaways? I don’t want to go to jail.”
“There is very little danger of that, Thomas. And if God has called us to help—”
“He hasn’t called me to help them,” interrupted Thomas irritably. “Who cares about blacks and slaves anyway?”
He turned and walked out, leaving Richmond dumbfounded. He sighed and it was silent a moment. Seth bent down and continued carefully sawing out the shape of the horse’s head he had drawn on a slab of lumber.
“How is Silas doing?” asked Richmond.
“Seems okay,” Seth replied. “Malachi is keeping a close eye on him.”
Twenty-Six
Life at Greenwood gradually resumed its former routine. Yet how quiet the house seemed… dreary, empty, uninteresting. Carolyn noticed it as much as Seth. Since Cynthia’s marriage, she had forgotten how much she missed having a daughter around the place. If Cherity had discovered a home of mother love in Carolyn’s heart, Carolyn found her own soul enlarged as it made room for the motherless girl in that boundless region of being where mothers are capable of loving all young women as their own.
The following days were dull, drab, and silent. There was no doubt about it, Cherity made the house cheery, fun, and full of laughter. She seemed to belong there.
The “engagement,” meanwhile, proceeded. All initiation came from Oakbriar, chiefly from Veronica and her mother. Seth remained almost bewildered by the vortex of events encircling him, accepting it with fateful inevitability as the way things were done. With every week that passed, he grew more and more uncomfortable being with Veronica.
Inwardly, Richmond and Carolyn had hoped the engagement would blow over before now. They were more aware of the nature of their son’s struggle than he had any idea, but for now they gave him room to work it out on his own. They had learned most of what was being said through the normal channels of community gossip. It seemed clear that his naivety had landed him in over his head. But after two weeks with Cherity Waters, neither of his parents could bear the thought of Veronica as their daughter-in-law.
They hoped and prayed that Seth would come to his senses. All the while, however, they said to themselves that if it went on too long they would have to speak up. At the same time, however, they knew that ultimately Seth himself had to chart the course for his own future.
Meanwhile, weeks went by, then a month, then two… September… October… the colors of fall came and the air took on an occasional chill… and all the while the fateful day of December 11 drew inexorably nearer.
Denton Beaumont remained in Washington, D.C., for a month, came back to Oakbriar for a week, then returned again to the capital. None of the Davidsons saw him during that time. But, already beginning to cause a stir around Washington for an occasional rousing pro-Southern speech, the local favorite son was a star in Dove’s Landing. There was already talk of Lady Daphne following him after the wedding. Such conversations inevitably also turned to Seth and Veronica, with speculations whether they might also follow Veronica’s parents to begin their new life together in the capital. Invitations to the wedding had not yet gone out, but the celebration and Christmas ball to follow were being anticipated as the social events of the year for miles around.
In a self-serving press release for newspapers of central and northern Virginia, Denton Beaumont spoke of his new responsibilities in Washington on behalf of the state. It concluded, in response to the increasing problem of runaway slaves passing through Spotsylvania County on their way to the North, with the announcement of his having appointed his son Wyatt Beaumont to act as deputy federal commissioner in his absence. To the potential charge of patronage in regard to the move, Beaumont was ready with an explanation. “I had offered the post to one of our county’s leading citizens, my friend Richmond Davidson,” he was quoted. “But when Mr. Davidson declined I was unable to find another qualified individual. In the end I asked my son if he would be willing to assume the duties of the position.”
As Richmond read the account, a smile crossed his face. Now Denton’s offer made sense. He had planned to appoint Wyatt all along and needed an excuse to do so. Reading the piece reminded him that he had delayed too long in returning Denton’s check for $5,000 along with a formal declining of his offer on the Brown land. He would do so today.
Thought of the runaway problem and Denton’s comments, however, soon replaced the smile with a cloud upon Richmond’s countenance. These were times of danger and he knew it. It appeared they were destined to be increasingly drawn into it. Nor could they continue to respond to requests for sanctuary haphazardly when runaways appeared at their doorstep. They had to make plans, for surely more would come. Neither could they keep hiding them all in their home indefinitely. Some other provision had to be made. It seemed clear, too, that some of their own people needed to be brought in on what was going on.
Already an idea was forming in his mind about who to share it with. He would talk to Carolyn and see what she thought.
Richmond and Carolyn Davidson were beloved by all their black workers. But everyone within the Greenwood community recognized that Malachi and Nancy Shaw enjoyed an especially close friendship with their master and mistress.
It was not, therefore, considered out of the ordinary when the two were to be invited to the big house one Sunday afternoon in mid-October. All assumed the master wanted to talk to Malachi about the upcoming week’s work. As it turned out, it was Malachi and Nancy who were most surprised of all when they were shown into the formal sitting room to a spread of coffee, tea, bread, assorted cheeses, and a variety of cakes, and the doors closed behind them. They were accustomed to being treated with respect, but not as honored guests.
Malachi had not failed to note the new weathervane atop the barn over the course of the last three weeks where it bent a new and unfamiliar head to the wind. He had kept his curiosity to himself. As he had glanced up while walking to the house a few minutes earlier, he would not have guessed that today’s invitation had been prompted for the same reason the horse’s head had been erected in such plain view.
They sat down, Nancy’s eyes betraying a little anxiety at the formality of the setting, and wondering if they were about to be released from service to Greenwood and sent away.
“Thank you both for coming,” began Richmond as Carolyn poured coffee and tea and they sat down around the table. “We have asked you here because we need to discuss something serious and of great importance with you. We want to share with you confidentially, and ask your help in deciding what is to be done in this matter.”
He paused a moment and took a sip from his cup.
“You both remember Lucindy Eaton and her children—”
Nancy and Malachi nodded.
“She was a runaway, as you know,” Richmond continued, “and we helped her get safely into Pennsylvania. In doing so, we broke the law. Technically we could be jailed for what we did. What you don’t know is that Lucindy was not the first to have come to us for help. There was one before her… and now more recently the LeFleure family, as well as Silas, were all runaways. We did not divulge it because we thought it best word of it did not spread. We are more concerned for your danger, and everyone’s at Greenwood, than for our own. If word of this activity got out, technically you could all be reenslaved again too. We are all in grave danger.”
Again Richmond paused, considering how best to say what he had to say.
“From Sydney we learned something that may change all of our lives forever,” he began again. “Word has apparently been spreading through a secret organization called the Underground Railroad that Greenwood is a safe house for runaway slaves. We do not know how. The result is that more and more runaways are sure to come. We cannot, nor would we, turn them away, therefore we must find ways to offer them protection and safety while preserving our own. Whatever we do must be kept absolutely secret. Not even the slaves from Oakbriar or the McClellan plantation can suspect a thing. If the tiniest rumor were to leak out, it could mean tragedy for us all.”
Carolyn glanced toward Malachi, but remained silent as Richmond continued.
“You may have noticed a new weathervane with a horse’s head on top of our barn. There is apparently a secret sign known to those traveling north on this secret human railroad. They are told to look for the wind in the horse’s head, and when they find it they have come to a place of safety. We put the weathervane up so that runaways in the area who may have heard of it would not accidentally stumble into Oakbriar and ask if they were at the safe house.”
Richmond drew in a breath, then went on.
“So now we come to the question of what to do. That’s why we need your help. If we have become a part of this secret network, probably because of having set you and the others free three years ago, then it seems we must make preparations for whoever else may come. Should we tell the others?—we don’t know. Not to do so would complicate things, but doing so would increase the risk of word leaking out. Malachi, I thought that perhaps we should make provision for more people in one of your smaller cabins… or perhaps build another home or two for the purpose. Nancy, we will need your help in determining best how to care for women and children who come. Up till now, we have kept all three groups of travelers in the big house with us. But we cannot do so forever, and there is the added problem of—”
Almost from the moment Richmond had begun, Carolyn had detected the hint of a smile on Malachi’s lips, and steadily widening. She grew more and more curious at its cause, and now at last Malachi could contain himself no longer and began to chuckle aloud.
Richmond stopped wh
at he had been about to say, smiling himself in curiosity at what Malachi found so humorous. “What is it, Malachi?” he asked.
“I’s sorry, Mister Dab’son,” replied Malachi. “I wuz jes’ thinkin’ dat it’s a mite mo’ complicated dan you gots any idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jes’ dat dat Lucindy girl weren’t da first by no means—why dere’s been black folks comin’ through here lookin’ fo da win’ in da horse’s head fo’ da bes’ part er two years now.”
“What!” said Carolyn. “Do you mean… you’ve been helping runaways too?”
“Dat I hab, Miz Dab’son. I ain’t exactly been a conductor or a stashunmaster… I reckon I been a little er both, jes’ doin’ what I kin ter help poor folks on da run from da commishiners an’ bounty hunters.”
“But how?” said Richmond. “Where have you put them?”
“Here an’ dere… in da woods mostly. Dey don’ stay long, not like dose dat you took ter da big house. I jes’ sen’ dem on ter da nex’ conductor on da way.”
“I am speechless!” laughed Richmond in incredulity.
“Usually I meet him up by da ridge on da Brown lan’ in an out er da way spot. Effen dat Lucindy hadn’t come right in ter Nancy an’ effen I’d foun’ her first, you’d likely neber hab seen her at all an’ she’d been on her way by da nex’ night.”
“I am amazed!” said Richmond. “To think this was all going on under our noses… and we never saw nor suspected a thing!”
Nancy did not find her husband’s revelation humorous.
“How cud you do all dis wiffout tellin’ me?” she said with a hint of Mary’s characteristic humph in her tone.
“I din’t want no danger ter cum ter you or nobody,” replied Malachi. “Hit wuz bes’ I jes’ dun it myself.”
“But I neber seen nuthin’… I never seen you wiff nobody.”
“Mostly dey came an’ went at night. I’d git up an’ sneak out an’ git my railroadin’ biz’ness done afore mornin’.”
“An’ all dat time, when I heard you creepin’ out, I thought you wuz jes’ takin’ care ob your necessaries!”
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