A Quilt for Christmas (10 page)

John looked at Missouri Ann out of the corner of his eye, then nodded and turned to Eliza. “I speak of a matter of grave importance—and great secrecy. We men may fight the battles.” He stopped and glanced at his arm where a bone had been shattered by a bullet. Both men had been wounded in the war and been discharged. “We may fight the battles,” he repeated, “but you women, too, must be part of the business of keeping our country free. I'm afraid I must challenge you to do something dangerous, but I think you will not turn me down, because you will do what is necessary to win the war for the Union, for the cause for which your husbands died.”

 

CHAPTER FIVE

March 31, 1865

Eliza pressed her palms together, fingers pointed upward, as if she were praying, but she was not. She was remembering how the women had wished that there were a way they could do more than stitch for the war effort, more than wait and suffer. She herself had expressed the desire to join the fighting. Now, it seemed that John Hamlin was about to bring her a challenge, and Eliza wondered if she would be up to it. She leaned forward, anxious, and nodded at him to continue.

John looked at Missouri Ann again, stared at her for a long time, until Print shrugged and said, “I'd be happy to do the milking, Mrs. Missouri Ann, if you'd accompany me to the barn.”

The men's intention was obvious. John wanted to talk to Eliza alone. Despite what Print had said, John didn't trust Missouri Ann. Eliza spoke up. “No need. Davy will tend to the milking and is in the barn already. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of Mrs. Stark. She is as loyal a Unionist as I am. Both of our husbands died for the cause.”

“She is a Stark,” John reminded Eliza.

“Have you forgotten how you yourself helped her to escape from those foul people on Christmas Day?”

John considered that. “Have they been a-bothering you since then, the Starks?”

Eliza shrugged. Part of a fence had been torn down, and there was a hole in the henhouse where a fox had gotten in. The two women had returned home from town one afternoon to discover large rocks blocking the lane. And then there were the tracks in the snow. But Eliza hadn't actually seen the Starks, so she couldn't say for sure that this had been their mischief.

“Not that we can prove,” Eliza replied. “If they've been here, it hasn't been often, and we haven't seen them.”

“You are alone now?” John asked.

Except for the children, Eliza told him. Luzena had taken Nance into the house.

John nodded, satisfied. He moved closer to the two women and lowered his voice. “There is an escaped slave who needs to be hidden. She is only passing through, but she is ill and needs a place of safety until she is well enough to go on. I am asking you to provide it.”

“The poor thing,” Eliza gasped. “I am so sorry for her.”

“Mrs. Espy told us about the men that captures Negroes and takes them South to be sold, but why's anyone want to steal a sick woman?” Missouri Ann asked. “Besides, the war seems 'bout over. Who'd buy a slave now? Makes no sense to me.”

“She is not an ordinary slave.” John looked around, as if thinking someone might have crept up on them and was listening. They were alone. Still, he lowered his voice. “She killed her mistress. Her owner wants her back so he can punish her.”

“Oh!” Eliza took a deep breath. Caring for an escaped slave was one thing, but bringing a murderer onto the farm—and one whose victim was a woman—was something else. What if the woman was depraved? She might hate all white people and turn on her or Missouri Ann, or one of the children. No matter how sympathetic she was at the colored woman's plight, Eliza couldn't allow her to live with them. “Mr. Hamlin, I'm sorry—” she began, but John didn't let her finish.

“She was beaten by her mistress, and when the woman wasn't satisfied with the welts she'd caused on the slave's back, she poured salt into the wounds. And then she turned on the slave's son and whipped him to death.”

Eliza and Missouri Ann stared at John in horror. “What had she done?” Eliza asked.

“Stolen a teaspoon of sugar for her boy. The woman beat the slave for taking the sugar, then turned on the boy for eating it.”

“How old was he?” Missouri Ann asked.

“Not yet three.”

“She beat a baby to death? The monster!” Eliza cried.

“The boy's father was the master—the mistress's own husband.” John paused, then added, “You must forgive me, ladies, for speaking of such an indelicacy, but in times like these, frankness is called for. It is not unusual for a master to father the children of young slave women. The man refused to interfere when his own son was beaten, so Sukey—that is the slave's name—grabbed the whip, thinking to stop the outrage, and struck her mistress such a blow that it broke her skull. In the South, the punishment for striking a white person is severe; the penalty for killing one is death. With her very life at stake, Sukey ran off, and has made her way to Kansas. Lord knows how she got this far in her condition. We used to send the escaped slaves north to Canada, but that is the obvious route. I think we will send Sukey west to Colorado when she is well enough to travel.”

“The little boy?” Eliza said.

“He was dead before Sukey took the whip, most likely put into the earth without a marker. But God will know where he is.”

Eliza and Missouri Ann both bowed their heads. “Killing her mistress might be thought retribution,” Eliza said.

“In the North, yes. But in the South, it is greeted with outrage. A white person's life is not worth that of two Negroes—or a hundred, for that matter. The owner has offered a substantial reward for the return of Sukey, and it is known she has come this way. If she is turned over to her former master, she will be hanged or maybe torn apart by dogs. There are other slow means of death that are as bad. She would die by inches.”

Eliza nodded understanding. “Our Union law should protect her here in Kansas, but as we have been told, there are men who would capture a slave and take her south.”

“Men like Dad Stark,” Missouri Ann added.

“Men like Dad Stark,” John repeated. “And his sons.” He thought that over and said, “I beg your pardon again, Mrs. Missouri Ann. I should not have spoken ill of your family.”

“They're not my family no more. Besides, my husband wasn't like the others,” Missouri Ann replied. “I know the Starks better than anybody. They'd sell their own for a Yankee dollar.”

“Why do you want to bring Sukey here?” Eliza asked. She was sure from the rumors that John Hamlin had helped slaves escape, that he was a stop on the Underground Railroad. Surely he had better places to hide a colored woman than on the Spooner farm. “It is said you have hidden many on your own land. Why bring her to us?”

“For that very reason, that it is known I've aided other contraband. My farm is the first place the Starks or any others would look for her. And there
will
be others. The offer of a reward will bring out the old slave catchers. As you know, there are many in the state who are sympathetic toward the South and do not oppose slavery,” John replied. “Print has offered to hide her in the smithy, but he, too, has hidden slaves in the past and would be under suspicion.”

“
You
done that, Mr. Ritter?” Missouri Ann said, a sense of awe in her voice. “I never heard of nothing so brave. Why, the Starks is at the smithy every week. You sure did fool them.”

Print blushed.

“We believe the Starks watch us. This would be the worst place to hide an escaped slave,” Eliza said. “They would spot her right away.”

John shook his head. “That makes your farm the best of hiding places, as long as you confine Sukey to the house. The Starks are in town now. Since they keep such close watch on you, they will have not the slightest suspicion Sukey was sneaked into your house during their absence. As they have been warned to stay away, they have no call to come into your house, or even your barnyard. They will never know she is here. Your farm will be the perfect hiding place.”

“They think I hate the coloreds as much as they do,” Missouri Ann said. “I was never brave enough to say my mind.”

“Then indeed this is the perfect place. It will be for only a few days. Sukey is too exhausted and too sick yet from the whipping to travel farther. It is a wonder she made it all the way from Louisiana. Poor thing, she traveled by night and hid in trees and ditches, until by luck, she was found by one of our people—a “conductor” on the Underground Railroad. Then she was sent north hidden in wagons and carts. She has great courage, and I believe you will like her. What do you say, Mrs. Spooner?” John asked.

Eliza turned away to think. Hiding the woman for a night or maybe two was one thing, but keeping her for days until she was well was dangerous. If the Starks or other men came onto the farm, how would she and Missouri Ann stand up to them? If they tried to stop the slave catchers from grabbing Sukey, Eliza and Missouri Ann might be hurt. And there were the children to think of. What if someone inquired about a colored woman? Would Davy and Luzena know enough to deny she was on the Spooner farm? They could be harmed, too. Eliza was conflicted. She'd agreed with Ettie that she wished there were something she could do for the Union, but did she have the right to risk the safety of others in the doing of it?

Remembering Ettie, she asked, “What about Mrs. Espy? She has older boys on the farm. Would she not be better at hiding the woman?”

John Hamlin smiled. “Last time she hid an escaped slave, the Starks almost caught him. I expect the man didn't get but five minutes head start, and the Starks would have found him at that, except the littlest Espy boy stepped on an iron spike and howled like the devil that he was going to get the lockjaw if somebody didn't help him.”

“Did they get out the spike?” Missouri Ann asked.

“Turned out it was only a scrape, nothing to worry about. A boy of seven or thereabouts tricked them. The Starks were mad enough to chew nails. But that gave the slave enough time to get away. I reckon the Starks will go to the Espy place even before mine,” John said. He turned to Eliza. “I wouldn't ask it, but there's a woman's life at stake.”

And a woman who'd done nothing more than try to save the life of her son, Eliza thought. She and Missouri Ann would have done the same thing. In fact, Missouri Ann had already risked her own safety in getting Nance away from the Starks. But could she put the children in danger? Eliza wondered. She and Missouri Ann were grown women who knew the risks, but it wasn't fair to the children, especially Luzena, who did not fully understand about the war. Eliza pondered that, wishing Will could have given her advice, but she was on her own, and she must decide now. What would Will have told her to do? And then she knew. He would have advised her to do what was right. That was what he had said when he joined the army, that he did not care to go off and fight a war, but it was the right thing. He had died doing that right thing. Could she expect less of herself? It was not enough for men to do good, but women must, too. Eliza turned back to John. “Of course we shall take her in, Mr. Hamlin. And welcome her. It's what Will would have done. When will you bring her?”

“We have brought her already. She's in the wagon.” He grinned as if he had known all along that Eliza would accept the slave.

Eliza turned to the wagon, which was filled with tree trunks. She had assumed John was taking them to the sawmill. “Where?”

“Under the timber.”

“Why the poor thing!” Missouri Ann cried. “You likely crushed her.”

“And if you didn't, she's bound to be uncomfortable,” Eliza said. “We must take her inside at once.”

While Eliza and Missouri Ann hurried to the house to prepare for the sick woman, Print drove the wagon close to the door. Then he and John removed the tree trunks that covered Sukey and lifted her out of her hiding place. They set her on her feet, but Sukey was so weak that she fell, and the men had to carry her inside the house. Eliza motioned for them to lay Sukey on the bed. The sick woman watched Eliza turn down the quilt, the Sunshine and Rain quilt that Eliza had put back on her bed after she learned of Will's death. Sukey was small, with small hands and feet, and she was as thin as a hoe handle. Her black eyes were quick, and they never left Eliza's face. When Eliza turned, she caught the slave's glance and read fear in it. Poor woman. She had suffered much and come far, and still she feared she would be caught and put to death. Maybe she wondered if Eliza would turn her in.

“You can trust me, Sukey. I am Mrs. Spooner, and this is Mrs. Stark, and we will care for you until you are well.” Eliza thought a moment, then announced, “I would change her name. We would not want the children to let slip ‘Sukey.' Do you understand?” she asked the slave. When Sukey nodded, Eliza announced, “Clara. Will you be Clara?”

Sukey nodded again and muttered, “Clara.”

“Can you trust the children not to talk?” John asked.

“I will explain to them that it is a matter of life and death to keep silent about … Clara.” Eliza smiled and glanced at the black woman when she said the name.

“Your daughter is young,” John said, looking at Luzena, who had crept into the house. “Can you keep a secret, girl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have kept other secrets?”

Luzena nodded.

“What secrets?”

Luzena raised her chin. “I won't tell you, sir. They're secrets.”

John laughed. Then he spied Nance, who was hanging on to Luzena's skirt. “What about that one? She's too young to understand about secrets.”

“Oh, that's all right,” Missouri Ann told him. “She don't talk yet.”

*   *   *

John said he and Print must leave, for they didn't want to alert anyone that they had stopped for more than a short visit at the Spooner farm. Sukey—Clara, he corrected himself—would be all right in the house as long as no one came looking for her, but they must find a hiding place for her just the same.