Freedom at the Falls

by Marianne Hering

  Mrs. Lincoln moved to an open seat near Mr. Lincoln. She sat down.

  Patrick, Willie, and the men sat down again, except for Conductor Nottingham. He prepared more food and lemonade and offered it to Mrs. Lincoln.

  Beth and Tad walked over to the seats near the stove.

  Tad sat next to Willie. The two brothers started whispering to each other.

  Beth sat next to Patrick. She said quietly, “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

  But Beth didn’t have a chance to answer. Conductor Nottingham was standing right next to her. A basket of food hung on his arm, and he held a glass of lemonade in each hand.

  “Would you care for some apples and lemonade?” he asked Beth and Tad.

  They each took the offered food and thanked the conductor.

  “Apples are my favorite!” Tad said. “Thank you.” He bit into a slice.

  The conductor looked at Mr. Lincoln and said, “The engineer received a telegram from the Buffalo depot. Crowds have already filled the train station. Thousands more people are on their way.”

  Mr. Lincoln chuckled. “This is a government of the people, by the people, and for the people,” he said. “Let them come.”

  “Confound it!” Wood said angrily. “What’s to be done to protect you? You’re determined to put yourself at the mercy of mobs. The train roof could have caved in.”

  “Not to worry,” Nottingham said. “The governor of New York has police and soldiers to help in Buffalo. They will escort Mr. Lincoln from the train to the American Hotel.”

  Mr. Lincoln’s black bag was on the floor next to him. Nottingham motioned to it with his foot. He said, “The less you have to carry when you leave the train, the better. I’m taking Mrs. Lincoln’s trunks to the baggage car. I’d like to bring this bag also.”

  Patrick looked at Beth. Her forehead was scrunched with worry lines. She whispered, “That’s the problem. What about Sally?”

  Patrick handed his napkin and glass to Beth. Then he jumped up.

  Willie did the same.

  “I’ll take the bag,” Patrick said. “It’s my job. That and to keep Willie out of trouble.”

  He spoke to Mrs. Lincoln. “I’ll take your trunks, too. I’m sure Conductor Nottingham has more important things to do.” He gave a little bow.

  “That’s the spirit,” Wood said. “A young man who likes responsibility.”

  Nottingham said, “Thank you, young man. But I don’t think you’re strong enough to carry the trunks.”

  Mr. Lincoln reached down and picked up his bag. He opened it and took out a few papers. He tucked them inside his hat. “That’s my inaugural speech,” he said. “I can’t lose it again. But you may take the bag now, thank you.”

  Patrick picked up the bag. “I’ll put this back in the baggage car,” he said.

  Wood said, “And make sure you keep the baggage car locked. The crowds are getting bolder. Someone may try to get inside that car and steal something.”

  “Or worse,” Lincoln said. “Someone might get a free ride to Buffalo!”

  Someone like Sally, Patrick thought. “I’ll need the key from Conductor Nottingham, then,” he said.

  “I usually don’t do this,” the conductor said. He reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a bundle and took one long key off the ring. “It’s against railroad policy to hand these out. But since you’re working for the president-elect . . .”

  Willie snatched the key out of the conductor’s hand. “We’ll wait for you to come with the trunks,” Willie said.

  “We?” Patrick asked. “You’re coming with me?”

  Willie beamed a smile. “Yes,” he said. “I want to learn responsibility.” Willie kissed his mother’s cheek goodbye.

  “I’m proud of you,” Lincoln said. He patted Willie on the head.

  Then Willie ran to the compartment door. “Come on, Patrick,” he said. “Let’s go!”

  Patrick felt as if he had no choice. He carried the bag out the door.

  The Trunks

  Beth’s heart was racing. What will Patrick do if Willie sees Sally? she wondered. Beth thought of a plan to help Patrick. She moved Tad away from the stove to sit nearer the Lincolns.

  Tad gulped his lemonade.

  Nottingham took Tad’s empty glass. Then he arranged the rest of the fruit in the basket. He left it on a seat that also held a stack of newspapers.

  Nottingham bowed to the future First Lady. He said, “I’ll take your trunks to the baggage car now, ma’am.”

  Beth asked Mrs. Lincoln, “Don’t you need to change your dress first?”

  “No, no,” Mrs. Lincoln said. She quickly shook her head. “This is the gown I’ve chosen for the people in Buffalo. It will be the largest crowd yet.”

  Mrs. Lincoln turned to her husband. “Don’t I look beautiful?” she asked.

  Mr. Lincoln smiled and patted her hand. “The dress shows off your lovely complexion and clear blue eyes,” he said.

  Beth pulled out the necklace from beneath her dress. She fingered it so Mrs. Lincoln could see it.

  She said, “But wouldn’t a goose feather shawl look more fashionable?”

  Mrs. Lincoln seemed to perk up. She looked at Beth. “Yes,” she said cheerfully. “I think you’re right. Goose feathers are all the rage. Let’s go find something for me to wear in the evening. It’ll take me just a minute.”

  The conductor sat down. “I’ll get the sack truck, then,” he said.

  The future First Lady stood. “Beth,” she said, “please bring Tad and the fruit. I’m still hungry.”

  Beth grabbed the fruit basket off the seat. Then she followed Mrs. Lincoln and Tad into the family area.

  Mary Todd Lincoln shut the door. She turned to Beth. “You have a runaway in the baggage compartment, don’t you?” Mrs. Lincoln whispered.

  Beth nodded and whispered back, “She’ll be discovered soon!”

  Patrick and Willie hurried through the smoking car. Patrick plugged his nose. He didn’t want to breathe the smoke.

  Holman Jones was talking to several men near the front of the car. One of them was the reporter with the red hair and thick beard.

  The slave catcher saw Patrick and waved the poster at him. Patrick looked at the ground as he walked past. He didn’t want to say anything to Jones.

  Patrick and Willie arrived at the baggage car. Willie unlocked the door. The boys went in and closed the door behind them.

  “So where’s the slave?” Willie asked suddenly.

  Patrick felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. How did Willie know? he wondered.

  Willie sat on a suitcase as if he were glued there. He folded his arms.

  “Tad told me you and Beth are with the Underground Railroad,” Willie said. “He heard our mother say so. Beth has a special necklace.”

  Patrick put the black bag down. He said, “We’re not with anything. I think it’s time to go.”

  “Not before I see the slave,” Willie said. “One is in here, right?”

  “Yes, one is.” It was Sally’s muffled voice.

  Willie jumped up. “I knew it!” he cried. He climbed the stack of trunks. Then he moved the carpetbag covering her hiding place.

  “I’m William Wallace Lincoln,” he said. “My father is going to be president. I’ve heard him say he hates slavery.”

  “Good for him,” Sally said. “I hate slavery too.”

  Mrs. Lincoln opened both of the cedar trunks. She repacked all the contents from one trunk into the other. “Is Sally tall?” the future First Lady asked.

  “She’s a teenager and very thin,” Beth said. “It’s possible she can fit in here.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Lincoln said. She tried to close the packed trunk, but it was too full. She took out a feather shawl and a blue cloak with a hood. Then she sat on the trunk lid. It closed. Mrs. Lincoln locked it.

  “Mother, will Sally be able to breathe in there?” Tad asked.

  T
he Mistake

  Mrs. Lincoln stood up from the trunk. “We’re trying to keep Sally away from the slave catcher,” she said. “We’re not trying to suffocate her.”

  Mrs. Lincoln put the blue cloak inside the nearly empty trunk. She slipped something inside the cloak pocket. “That’s for Sally,” she said. She closed the lid.

  Sally’s not going inside it? Beth wondered. What is the trunk for?

  Beth heard heavy footsteps and then Conductor Nottingham’s voice. “I’ve brought the sack truck.”

  The sack truck was a tall, narrow cart with two wheels. It looked like something Whit would use to move heavy boxes or appliances.

  “You will take that one first,” Mrs. Lincoln said. She pointed to the empty trunk.

  Conductor Nottingham nodded to Mrs. Lincoln. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Then he loaded the trunk onto the sack truck. “This one feels almost empty,” the conductor said.

  “That’s my business,” the future First Lady said.

  “But—” he started to say.

  “Not a word, Conductor,” Mrs. Lincoln said sternly. “Not one word.”

  Nottingham nodded. He used thick leather belts to strap the trunk to the cart. Nottingham started to whistle as he left the compartment. The trunk bumped the doorframe on the way out.

  Mrs. Lincoln turned to Beth. She put her hands on her hips. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

  “Me?” Beth said.

  “You,” Mrs. Lincoln said. “Pick up that food basket and skedaddle. Follow the conductor.”

  “Then what?” Beth asked.

  Mrs. Lincoln leaned over and whispered in Beth’s ear.

  “Got it!” Beth said. Then she grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. That’ll fix Holman Jones, she thought.

  Beth gave Tad a quick hug goodbye. Then she grabbed her own green cloak and put it on. She picked up the basket and hurried after Conductor Nottingham.

  Beth caught up with him in the smoking car.

  The slave catcher was blocking the aisle. Next to him stood a man in a brown suit. He had red hair and a thick beard. He was taking notes on a small pad of paper. Beth guessed he was a reporter.

  Beth wanted to hang back or go around the men. But Mrs. Lincoln had given her a job. She neared the trunk and set the basket on top of it.

  The trunk shifted slightly.

  “That’s odd,” the red-haired man said. “How can a half-empty basket move a wood trunk with just a nudge?”

  Jones rapped his knuckles on the trunk. It made a deep, hollow thump. “Sounds empty to me,” Jones said to Nottingham. “What’s inside?”

  “Mind your own business,” Nottingham said.

  Jones sneered. “It is my business,” he said. “This trunk looks like the perfect size to hide a runaway slave.”

  Jones opened one side of his long leather coat. He revealed the revolver and the whip.

  Beth’s eyes grew round with fear. She held in a gasp.

  “Let me look inside the trunk,” Jones said. He patted the star-shaped badge on his jacket. “The law is on my side. No one can stop me from searching for runaways.”

  “You’re going to shoot me to look inside Mrs. Lincoln’s trunk?” the conductor asked. He shook his head as if to say Jones wasn’t very smart. Then Nottingham said in a serious tone, “You said yourself the trunk is empty. Let me pass.”

  “With pleasure,” Jones said.

  Beth picked up the basket off the trunk.

  Jones closed his jacket. Then he stepped out of the aisle. Nottingham pushed the sack truck toward the baggage car door.

  Jones suddenly blocked the aisle again. This time he stopped Beth’s passage. “But not you!” Jones said.

  “Why not?” Beth asked. “Do you think a slave is hiding in this basket?”

  He smiled, but not nicely. “Very funny,” he said. “There’s no slave in the trunk. But you’d better explain why you’re taking food into the baggage car. And why you’re wearing a trinket from the Underground Railroad. Sally wore a necklace just like it.”

  This time Beth did gasp. One of her hands flew to her necklace. She’d forgotten to hide it underneath her dress. Oh no! she thought. Holman Jones saw the goose!

  Patrick stood guard at the baggage car door. He didn’t want anyone to come in and find Sally. Sally was inside her hideaway. Willie stood on top of the stack of luggage. He was talking to Sally in a hushed voice.

  Patrick expected Mrs. Lincoln’s trunks to come soon. He opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  He saw Conductor Nottingham pulling a cart across the connecting platform. Patrick shut the door. He whispered over his shoulder to Willie and Sally, “Conductor Nottingham is coming.”

  Sally said, “Quick, Willie. Get off the luggage! But put the carpetbag back on top first!”

  Willie moved the flowered carpetbag to cover Sally’s hideaway. Then he leaped from the stack of luggage and landed with a thud.

  Just then Conductor Nottingham opened the door. “Come here, lad,” he said to Patrick. “Help me unstrap Mrs. Lincoln’s trunk.”

  Patrick unbuckled the leather belt.

  The conductor picked up the trunk as if it were a pillow.

  “Is it empty?” Patrick asked.

  “That’s not my business,” the conductor said. He placed the trunk near the others. “Leastwise that’s what Mrs. Lincoln tells me.” He winked at Patrick and then chuckled.

  The train’s whistle blasted two long notes. The train slowed to a stop.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” the conductor said. “I’ll have my key back.”

  Willie handed Nottingham the key. “I didn’t lose it,” he said. “Was I responsible?”

  “Very,” the conductor said. He slipped the key into his pocket.

  Nottingham opened the wide door on the side of the car.

  Patrick felt a gust of cold air enter the train.

  “It’s time that I get off,” Nottingham said. “This is my last stop. A new conductor is coming. He’ll have to move Mrs. Lincoln’s second trunk. And he’ll arrange the bags for unloading at Buffalo.”

  Nottingham stepped off the train. He stood on the ground, looking inside the baggage car. He said, “Your young friend is coming in just a minute. She’s in the smoking car talking to that mean fellow. He was mighty interested in something she was wearing.”

  Willie slid the door closed.

  Patrick gulped. The necklace! he thought.

  The Whip Cracks

  Beth backed away from the slave catcher. “It’s just a necklace my friend gave me,” she said. “It means nothing.”

  Jones sneered. He poked the necklace with his index finger. “Nothing?” he said. “It’s a symbol telling slaves that it’s safe. But no slave is safe when I’m around.”

  Beth lifted her chin. She wanted to act as Mrs. Lincoln would, like a queen. “I’m nursemaid to Tad Lincoln,” Beth said. “And Mrs. Lincoln will be angry if you bother me.”

  The reporter wrote down something on his notepad. “What’s your name?” he asked. “The Cincinnati Daily Press pays me to get all the details.”

  “Let me pass,” Beth said.

  Suddenly Holman Jones laughed. He motioned with his arm for Beth to go down the aisle.

  Beth tucked the necklace under her dress. She hurried out the door toward the baggage car.

  The train whistle blew twice as she crossed the connecting platform.

  The trap is set, Beth thought. Will Jones step into it?

  Patrick saw Beth and flung the door wide open.

  Beth hurried in and shut the door behind her. “Can we lock the door?” she asked.

  “No,” Patrick said. “We don’t have the key anymore.”

  Beth leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

  “Holman Jones will be here any second,” Beth said.

  “But he’ll find Sally,” Willie said.

  “No, he won’t,” Beth said. “He’s too smart.”

  Patrick was confused
. “If Jones is so smart,” he said, “he’ll find Sally for sure.”

  “There’s no time to explain,” Beth said. “Just keep Jones out till I say to let him in.”

  Beth said so Sally could hear, “Pray like you’ve never prayed before.”

  Patrick heard someone outside on the connecting platform. He leaned against the door with all his might.

  Willie did too.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Let me in.” It was Jones’s voice. “I demand to search the baggage car. I have a legal right to do it.”

  Patrick looked at Beth. She opened the trunk. Then she took out the blue cloak and laid it on a crate. Next she emptied the fruit basket inside the trunk. Then she slammed the lid closed.

  Beth started dragging Mrs. Lincoln’s trunk toward the side door. “Just a little bit more time,” she said.

  Patrick felt Willie’s body shift. The boy reached into his pocket for a tin soldier. Then he wedged it between the door and the side post. Only the little man’s feet were sticking out.

  “That should hold it,” Willie said. Then he rushed to open the side door.

  Beth pushed the trunk to the edge.

  Patrick had no idea what Willie and Beth were doing.

  Jones jiggled the doorknob. But the toy soldier was still holding as a wedge. Still Patrick kept leaning against the door just in case.

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Jones’s fist hit the door. “Sally is in there,” the slave catcher shouted, “and I will catch her. Then I’ll beat her unless you open the door!”

  Help us, God, Beth prayed.

  A railroad man on the depot platform walked past the open side door. “I’ll help you with that,” he said. The man lifted the trunk off the train. He set it on the depot platform.

  Beth said, “Thank you.”

  “Who’s in charge of this trunk?” the man asked.