Chapter 36
T
he night rushed by, offering little rest as preparations were made for our journey to the borderland. James replaced the shoes on the horses. Food rations, weapons, and the carriage were made ready. And all grew reticent at the unpredictable task ahead of us.
“Come with me,” Livie said, tugging me along the lane halving the town. “I want to give you my mother’s Bible for the trip. I keep it in the schoolhouse.”
“You have a school in town?”
“Well, it’s really jes’ a one-room building where we have our prayer meetings. When I can squeeze time amongst my chores, I use Mama’s Bible to pass on what little readin’ I know. These chilluns need learnin’ to help ’em make their way. The sad fact is, I don’t have enough time or know-how to do it proper.”
I glanced around the fledgling town. Amid the hardship and struggle, these were inspirational people. Fleeing the bondage of slavery, they began as fugitives. Once they crossed into the free state of Pennsylvania, they shed their fettered souls and became pioneers in the purest sense of the word. Living role models of how to begin life anew, they did not let the burdens of their past prevent them from planting seeds of hope for a better future. I was not born of the same plight and did not count myself among the brave trailblazers, but I felt privileged to bear witness on their claim to freedom.
“This ain’t a town of only colored,” Livie continued. “There are some poor white buckra settled in the lower end of town near the creek. They is buildin’ a gristmill. Desperate times can make fo’ some unlikely bedfellows. We is all jes’ tryin’ to survive and make claim on our lives.”
We entered the schoolhouse, which was no more than an empty room with benches lined against each wall. At the center of the room, there was a wooden chair with an open Bible on the seat. Livie handed me her precious heirloom. “Take this with you. It will offer both comfort and disguise.”
“I will carry it with great pride,” I said, reaching to hug her. But before thanks could be given, a cowbell began clanking down the road. Livie’s eyes sprang open and she rushed to the window. It struck five times and paused. Five more and paused. When the third round started, Livie turned to me.
“That’s Corine in the meadow yonder. She’s warnin’ us that riders are comin’. Must be white and lookin’ fo’ trouble.”
“If you are free, what threat do they hold over you?”
“There’s a Fugitive Slave Law that allows bounty hunters to come north to collect runaways and return ’em to their massas fo’ a generous fee. Folks say they is worse than slave catchers, because they often snatch up those with free papers and take ’em back to the auction block.”
“On our trip here, we were confronted by a posse searching for Marcus.”
Livie shook her head. “Plenty o’ snakes south of the border are hungry to get their hands on him. He stays outta sight when riders come through. Promise Bridge is a pretty out-o’-the-way place, but lately it seems like mo’ white folk is stumblin’ upon us in their travels. We try to walk softly in these hills.”
When I heard the approach of riders, I walked toward the window. Livie grabbed my arm and pushed me into the corner. “Don’t you know enough to fear a white man yet? There ain’t much by way of laws to protect us, and them that do are usually scoffed at by whites on both sides o’ the border. Some say a whole town was torched to run off folks like us. Can’t help but curse them for the control they still have over our lives, even here in the North.”
“Why, that’s not fair,” I huffed with indignant fury.
Livie stepped from the window to face me. “Not fair? Girl, I love you heart and soul, but you don’t know the half of it. Standin’ next to me ain’t the same as walkin’ in my shoes. I could tell you stories that would prickle you head to toe.” Her honesty wilted my self- righteous objection; however, Livie was not interested in scolding me. She merely wanted me to understand the immediate danger. “Now, stay in the corner so you ain’t seen. A white gal here among us will only rile ’em up.”
I pressed my back against the wall when horse hooves plodded near the window. Livie stared out at them, steady and unblinking. “What’chu lookin’ at, woman?”
“Nothin’, sah,” she stated blankly.
“Is there a farrier among you?”
Livie pointed toward the blacksmith barn beyond the school. As they strode to the back of the building, Livie whispered, “One of the horses is limpin’.”
We crept to the back window, where we saw James step from the barn to greet the three horsemen. His tight grin did little to disguise his concern. “Good afta’noon, sah. Looks like yo’ hoss done snapped a shoe.”
“Do you think I’m stupid, boy?”
“No, sah,” James stammered, realizing his words were being turned against him. “Jes’ takin’ notice.”
“Well, take notice of
this
.” The rider pulled a pistol from inside his coat. “Now, get your darky hide in the barn and shoe this horse so we can move on. Don’t think of chargin’ me neither. The only payment you’ll get is the breath in your chest. Tell me, boy, is your life worth the cost of a horseshoe?”
James’ face glazed over as he led the horse inside. I held on to Livie, who quivered like a panther ready to leap to the defense of her man. The two men who remained outside surveyed the buildings around them. “All these darkies in one place puts me on edge. If I lived in these hills, I would gather a posse and run ’em off.”
“Well, these ain’t our hills,” snapped the other man. “Rather ’em here than in the flatlands with us. Leave the lynchin’ to the locals.”
Livie’s hand clutched painfully around mine. James walked from the barn with the horse and mounted rider. He kept his head lowered to avoid further confrontation. The man whose horse had been shod nudged James with his foot. “You did a fine job, boy, and quick too. I think you deserve something for your effort.” He cracked the butt of his pistol against James’s head, buckling him to his knees. I pulled Livie back as she sprang toward the door. Livie swallowed her outrage and grimaced, head in hand. The two other men laughed and spurred their horses as the third man gave chase, firing random shots at each building he passed. Livie wriggled free of my grasp, and as we helped James to his feet, I was sickened by a realization like none I had ever experienced. I felt shame and anger; not in myself, but in those considered my people. And in that moment, I learned to fear a white man.
By midmorning, we began saying our good-byes. Hugs were exchanged and tears shed. The danger in what we were doing was understood by everyone, sparking emotion that had us clinging together until we forced ourselves to let go.
The carriage ride down through the western hills and farmlands of Pennsylvania was merciless, with heavy rain that turned the roads into thick pools of mud. Marcus and James rode on horseback, while Winston and I took turns at the reins of the coach. During daylight travel, Marcus rode a mile or two ahead of us, while James rode the same distance to our rear. They ducked into the woods or brush as riders approached, waiting and watching to see if they posed any threat. Living in a free state did not guarantee their safety, particularly with the high price on the head of retrieved runaways. Winston and I, on the other hand, looked the picture of a mistress and her hired man. His age and submissive posture made him of little notice to those who crossed our path.
Marcus led us along little-used roads overgrown with dandelion and poison ivy, and in some instances we carved our own trail through fields gnarled with ragweed. Twice along the way we traded for fresh horses so we could continue to drive on through long days. When the weather cleared and the nights were illuminated by a full moon, we trudged on through the twilight until exhaustion forced sleep upon us. With more than half of our journey behind us, Marcus and James struck a bargain with a farmer, selling their horses for a modest profit that they used in the next town to replenish our depleted supplies.
As we neared the borderland, my knuckles clenched the wooden seat beneath me. Strangers who passed smelled of suspicion and secrecy. Marcus and James barely had enough room to wedge together in the hidden compartment until we rode well beyond scrutiny. Early one morning, six soldiers dressed in blue and carrying the striped flag of the Union appeared on a hillside. They watched Winston and me for some time as our wagon followed the ravine toward a thick grove of evergreens. The sound of their horses breaking into a gallop was gut-wrenching. Not knowing if the soldiers were friend or foe, I held my breath as I lowered the lid on Marcus and James. I straightened my disheveled clothes and sat atop them, the taste of fear on my tongue. I could not help thinking how easily Marcus’s concerns for our safety could become reality.
Winston slowed the carriage to a halt to allow the soldiers to encircle us without protest. I clutched the Bible Livie had given me and raised it toward the soldier with the most decoration on his uniform, but he dismissed the book with a wave of his hand.
“I have no interest in your business, ma’am,” he said, scanning his eyes across the surrounding hills. “But I suggest you proceed no farther. There have been bold attacks and confrontations by marauders on both sides of the border. My own troops have been fired upon twice this week, so safe passage for you is neither guaranteed nor likely.”
I masked my fright and gestured to the heavens. “I travel with the Lord as my passenger and His word as my compass. God’s mercy and favor will provide me safe haven.”
The soldier shook his head with grave impatience. “I fear neither mercy nor favor will be of use to you if you do not heed my warning. Woman, I have no authority to stop you, but if you continue, we can offer you no protection.”
The soldier tugged his hat and motioned his men to move on, showing the same disinterest in my proclamation as he did for my stated mission. Winston had the carriage rolling before the soldiers disappeared over the next ridge. A chill crept across my skin when I noticed the soldier who had spoken to me look back over his shoulder and shake his head with ominous disbelief at our determination to follow the path he had advised us to abandon. However, he had no way of knowing the land terrorized by marauders was our chosen destination.
With the free state of Pennsylvania behind us, we decided to travel at night and take cover during the day. Marcus and James led the way with lanterns, as Winston nudged the carriage along overgrown footpaths barely wide enough to allow passage. This was not the Virginia I knew. The mountains were dark and remote, with no signs of civilized order. The skill with which Marcus guided us through the wilderness was awe-inspiring. Using the flow of creeks, moss on trees, rock formations, and stars in the sky, Marcus moved with the ease of a prospector following points on a treasure map. After three nights in abysmal darkness, the distant squeal of fiddle music and raucous howling should have been uplifting; however, one look at Marcus’s stony expression let me know we were now entrenched with the enemy.
“Don’t be fooled by the playful hootin’ and hollerin’ down there,” Marcus stated flatly as we peered down into the narrow vale where the blazing glow of two huge campfires hung like interlocked halos above the tree tops. “They are neither fun nor happy folk.”
“How many do you think is down there?” James asked.
“Hard to say,” Marcus said, motioning us back to the carriage. “If they was apples, probably enough for two generous basketfuls.”
Winston shook his head. “Odds sho’ ain’t stacked in our favor.”
Marcus patted Winston on the back as he helped him up into the interior of the coach, where we all sat down to plan our course of action. “Winston, I ain’t never drawn a breath when the odds wasn’t stacked against me, but my luck has held out so far.”
“Luck ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.” Winston smirked. “You is a smart man, so you tell us what needs doin’.”
“From here on we go by foot,” Marcus said in a hushed but confident voice. “But we ain’t goin’ no farther tonight. Ya’ll get some sleep while I use what’s left of the night to creep down yonder. We need to know fo’ certain if Colt is here. If so, then I can get a sense of what we is facin’.”
I shuddered at the thought of Marcus brushing so close to the encampment on his own. James must have had the same thought, because he immediately objected. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, James, trust me. It is best I go alone so there is less chance of us bein’ found out. I’ll be back by first light.” Marcus paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “You all must promise me, if I am not back by dawn, you will turn around and trace our tracks back home.”
“We will not leave you behind if there is trouble,” I gasped.
Marcus squeezed my hand tightly, then moved his eyes from me to Winston and then on to James. “We must vow, here and now, whatever happens tonight or tomorrow, we will meet here at the carriage. Whoever makes it back must promise to return home without hesitation. If any of us are delayed, we can catch up with the others along the way. Once them hateful men know trouble is afoot, they will spread through these woods like termites. We is here to try, not to die. Stick to the plan. I moved north and south plenty o’ times, so these ain’t foolish words. We gots’ta promise.”
Marcus held up his hand to begin a bridge of assurance and we all followed suit, stringing our hands together in silent agreement. “Now, go on and get some sleep.” Marcus nodded. “I’ll be back with some answers by mornin’.” He lingered no more than ten painful beats of my heart, then disappeared into the night.
The three of us had little else to say. Exhaustion and preoccupation with what the morning would bring drained me of my confidence. I curled up in the back of the carriage, but could not still my fears and worries. If James and Winston harbored doubt, they did not reveal it with words, but their quiet uneasiness had me suspecting they felt the same. Winston unhitched the horses and watered them at a stream flowing through a poplar grove where we took cover for the night. He and James shared what was left of our small ration of salted pork, and they refilled our kidney sacks with fresh, cool water. There was no room for appetite in my wrenched stomach, so I closed my eyes in hope of calming my jittery thoughts.