By Way of the Rose (8 page)

“Why? So you can be goin’ on another rounder?” Doug cut his eyes at John. “Take me advice brother, John. Be doin’ a lot more of the minglin’ and a lot less of the drinkin'.”

“Professor, professor. What did I do before you came along?”

“Ye didn't do too well, else ye wouldn't have ended up with the likes of me!” They both laughed as they entered the ice house.

John's eyes landed on a strange lump lying in the shadows near the far corner of the building. “What do you suppose that is?” John pointed.

“Looks like a dead man!” Doug's voice was barely auditable, fear had almost griped his throat completely shut.

They walked closer, neither really wanting to know what they would find. “Who are you?” John called out in an unsteady voice. There was no answer from the large mass that lay curled and still as death.

John and Doug stared down at the negro man lying on the floor. “I— is he dead?” Doug whispered.

John bent down and shook him. The man groaned. “He's alive!” John looked back at Doug.

“Just barely I'd say.”

“Are you sick? Can you stand up?” John shook him again.

“I is cold.” The man whispered.

“Here, let us help you up.” John and Doug lifted him onto his unsteady feet. “We'll take you to the doctor.”

“No, no doctor! There's nowhere for me to go. Anybody sees me I'm dead.”

“You're dead if you stay here too.”

“You gotta hide me! I need help. Don't let nobody see me.”

“What have you done?” John asked.

“Lord, I ran. I'm a runaway slave.”

“We'd better be gittin’ him to our place.” Doug began to hurry toward the door.

“Wait just a minute! How are we going to do this with no one seeing him?”

“I'll watch and when it's clear, bring him to the wagon, we'll cover ‘em with the straw and blankets.”

“If we get caught we'll be in a heck of a mess!”

“Then we best not be gittin’ caught.” Doug's eyes twinkled as he smiled his impish smile.

The next few days they doctored and fed the runaway named Sam until he was strong enough to go on his way. He left quietly in the middle of the night.

A few days later Doug came in all excited. “What has you so happy?” John asked. “You found a long cigarette butt on the sidewalk?” He laughed.

“Much better than that! I know a way for us both to make more money than we could ever hope to make haulin’ ice. But it's not without the risks.”

“What is it?” John sat up on the edge of his bed. “Tell me, I'll do it! I don't have a thing against more money.”

“Then stick with me and we'll go places! I'm not gonna be waitin’ for my life to start. I'm takin’ action!”

“What are you rambling about? It sounds like it's something bad. Is it against the law?” John frowned. “I don't mind having a piece of the pie, but I want to make sure it's on the up and up. A pie turned wrong side up makes an awful mess!”

“Well, ‘tis considered illegal, but in my opinion there's nothing’ wrong with it,” Doug smiled. “'Tis just a wee bit on the dangerous side. Now, there'll be those who won't agree with this sort of work. But I'll be agreein'!”

“Tell all, Doug! I want to know.”

“Are you tired of this rat infested hole-in-the-wall? If so, we could be out of here by tomorrow. There's this fine place where we can stay if we do some work for a certain man.”

“And just who is this man?”

“A Mr. Emerald Clyde Tyson. One of the richest men in Rochester. I'm tellin’ ya, he's rich as cream! While I was deliverin’ ice to his grand place he calls me to the side and asks about that runaway slave, Sam. I tried to deny that I'd be knowin’ him, but Tyson grinned and said ‘Sam's told me about you and your friend helpin’ him. We need men like you two in our cause'. He'd already takin’ a likin’ to me from when his wee one took sick with the fever and he credits my promptness in gettin’ the ice to her that made her well. So, he comes to me today offerin’ the both of us jobs makin’ ten times the money we get now. I tell you, ‘tis odd the way he makes on over us helpin’ a runaway slave and such a small thing as ice. ‘Twas just doin’ me job.”

“Could be he's thinkin’ you have healin’ powers,” John said in an exaggerated Irish accent. “Some sort of leprechaun magic that healed Sam and his girl. Or, maybe he just wants to corner you and get your pot of gold. John rolled as he laughed. “You do remind me of the little people I've read about over in your part of the world.”

“Very funny, John... I come to you with a chance to make better and you poke fun. You'll be laughin’ out the other end when I'm sittin’ in that grand house and you deliverin’ me some ice.”

John regained his composure and wiped the tears from his eyes. “All right, all right. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. But what will we be doing?”

“From what I can understand, Mr. Tyson's a big supporter of the underground railroad here in Rochester. We'll be protecting and helping those in these underground operations.”

“We'll be helping slaves escape. Is that it?”

“Yeah, but nothin’ we ain't done before.”

“That's a good way for a man to get lynched!”

“Ye ain't a coward now, are ye?”

“Yes! If wanting to live makes me a coward, then that's what I am.”

“Well, that makes the both of us cowards then, but will you be in or out?”

“You know I'm in.”

Christmas came and John sent money and gifts home for everyone. No one had expected so many fine things and they were flabbergasted. Marion and Daniel counted the money over and over again. “This will fill the jar slap to the top, Daniel! We can afford that extra land you've had your eye on and a new plow too!”

“This can't be right. What is that boy doing? How can anyone have this much money to send home and live too? Lord, don't let him be breaking the law!”

“Oh, pooh on your ‘breaking the law’ mess! That boy has studied and is working hard. This is what an educated mind can get you, Dan.” Marion smiled. “I knew that boy was going to be something. He just had it in him.”

Nathan rolled his eyes as he unwrapped his first store-bought shirt. It came with a comb and candy cane in the pocket. Cora got a new pair of winter shoes with a green hair ribbon and a candy cane. The twins got twin dolls, pink hair ribbons and candy canes. Sarah got a new pair of winter shoes, a book, red satin hair ribbon, doll and candy cane.

Nathan took notice of all Sarah's gifts. “Well, I just wonder who John's favorite is here,” he snarled as he threw the shirt aside.

“You're not jealous now are you, Nathan?” Cora chided. “Could it be that Sarah is a little book worm like John? We all know she's always been his favorite. Why is that such a shock to you now?”

“Momma,” Nathan protested. “Do you think it's right for John to send Sarah all this stuff and almost leave the rest of us completely out?”

“Nathan, how can you say that after all the beautiful things John has sent to us all and gave us more money than we've managed to save in two years? He's a good son, and a wonderful brother to you all. You don't need to go stirring up trouble and counting gifts. You know what the good book says, ‘blessed are the peace makers.'”

“Sorry, I don't have no ‘educated mind’ to read that scripture, Momma. I'm just your plain old hard working idiot.”

“Nathan, you go to your room until you can calm that attitude. This is Christmas! And a very good one too. I'm not going to have you ruining it!”

Nathan stomped away, “He's such a good son
,
” he smirked under his breath. “Money means everything, huh?”

The next morning Daniel and Nathan were going hunting for Christmas meat and as usual Cora begged to go too, and just as usual, Daniel told her no as they walked out the door.

“Momma, can I at least go out and practice my slingshot?”

“Why must you be so boyish, Cora May? I thought I'd had a little girl when I had you. Where did that little girl go?” She rubbed Cora's cheek.

“Oh, Momma. I am a girl,” she pushed Marion's hand away, “but that doesn't mean I have to sit in the house all prim and proper, sewing and mending and cooking and cleaning. It's truly dull, and you said it yourself that I'm of no use in the kitchen. Why can't I go climb a tree or shoot a slingshot? Sarah can help you, I just get in the way.”

“Fine enough, ‘girl child,’ go shoot your slingshot, but dress warm, it's cool out.” Marion smiled at her. “Be in before dinner!” she called as Cora ran out the door.

Shooting the slingshot wasn't at all what Cora had in mind. She was going to go find her poppa and Nathan. When she found them, Poppa wouldn't send her back home alone and they couldn't stop hunting to bring her back, so, they'd have to let her hunt too! She was jubilant at the thought of such a fool-proof scheme. Cora skipped off into the dense woods and they closed in behind her. She looked around and wondered which way they had gone and which way she should go to find them. She tried to remember the paths they had taken when Nathan had shown her their hunting place. But everything looked the same now. Cora roamed aimlessly through these strange dark woods. Even though she was terrified, she refused to cry. Cry babies couldn't be mighty hunters.

Daniel and Nathan sat quietly waiting for their prey. They heard the cracking of underbrush and prepared their guns. The leaves began to rustle. Nathan put his finger on the trigger and fired— but it was no deer that stepped through the brush and then fell, screaming. It was Cora! Daniel and Nathan both ran to her yelling, “What are you doing here! Oh Cora! Cora!” Daniel knelt down beside her and took her in his arms.

“Baby girl, why? Why didn't you stay at home?”

“I didn't mean it, Cora, I didn't mean it!” Nathan kept saying as Daniel looked her over.

“Hush, Nathan! Hush. It's her arm. She's going to be all right!” Daniel scooped Cora up and started toward the house. “You go get the doctor,” he yelled at Nathan. “I'm taking her home.”

Daniel plowed through the door with Cora in his arms.

“What is it?” Marion screamed. “What's happened to her?”

“Cora came after us. We thought she was a deer and Nathan got her in the arm. Why did you let her come after us, Marion? Why?”

“I didn't! She was supposed to be in the yard playing with her slingshot. I don't understand this? How did she get to where y'all were?”

“I'm sorry, Momma. I wanted to hunt.” Cora cried. “I slipped off and went to find them.”

“Hush now, it's all right. I should have suspected it. I know you don't give up when it's something you want. I shouldn't have let you go out.”

The doctor, arriving soon thereafter, dressed her arm. “Cora, you were a mighty lucky little lady. I hope you've learned your lesson. It's important to listen to your folks.”

“Yes, Sir.” She smiled. Though Cora seemed very proud of her ‘hunting wound,’ no one else was the least bit pleased. Had Daniel and Marion not been so grateful that she wasn't killed, they would have severely punished her for going against their orders.

“If you ever go near those woods again without permission, you won't be able to sit down for a week, I promise you that!” Daniel told her.

John and Doug were well into the network of what they called freedom fighting. They were taking runaway slaves to a point on Lake Erie where they would cross over into Canada. Mr. Tyson compensated them well for their work. He also gave John a job at his paper,
The Freedom Gazette
, an anti-slavery publication. John was so good with words that Mr. Tyson made him an editor. John loved the job and was making good money. But he tried to keep his involvement in this work quiet. He knew how feelings ran about such things back home, so he would never let his friends or family know about his jobs.

It came to the freedom fighters attention that many of the southern states had barred anti-slavery papers such as
The Freedom Gazette
. Many folks, mostly rich slave owners, hated everyone associated with this movement. They saw it as a threat to their very existence. It would do away with everything they had worked for. All would be lost if these people pushed through their agenda of freeing the slaves. “What's next?” they cried. “Do we free our horses and cows too? We bought and paid for our stock, our workers, our land and our homes! They belong to us!”

“I know you have tried to keep your involvement in this work quiet because of your folks in the South.” Mr. Tyson said to John one day. “But you do consider yourself an abolitionist, do you not? You wouldn't turn your back on me, would you?”

“No, Sir. I never would do such a thing. I truly believe in what you do here. It is a noble and just cause and I'm glad to be a part of it. I hate slavery and what it does to everyone. I'd like nothing better than to see the end of it forever. Not just for the slaves, but also for the poor white people who can't find work because anyone who can afford to pay a man for a day's work, just buys a slave. Those who aren't rich struggle just to survive.”

“Well, they won't accept our publication down there. You have a chance to do a mighty work. You're an educated man and I believe you can do more with that education to help us. Perhaps the Southerners would listen to one of their own.”

“Excuse me, Sir. But I was never one of the plantation owners’
own
. Me and my family were what their slaves referred to as ‘poor trash'. We didn't have jobs nor much of anything because of slavery. I grew up in soddies, deserted shanties, dugouts in hillsides and wagons until we settled in Tennessee and Poppa saved enough to buy a plot of land and built our small cabin.”

“Are you saying the slaves should be grateful to have these plantation
jobs
?”

“I don't mean to lessen their plight. It's horrible to be owned by another man. I'm just saying there are more reasons than one to abolish slavery. It's bad for everyone, all the way around. As my Poppa said... it's a blight on America.”

“You have as much passion as I do and that's what's needed to put an end to this barbaric mess.”

“I'll do anything I can to improve the quality of life for all Americans, no matter their race.” John thought about that day, so long ago, when he had seen that line of people, barefoot, hungry and being beaten onward toward the west away from their homes. His look became distant. How could he ever help these Americans? How could people be so cruel to other people? He thought of Sarah's real mother, and of Sarah. How she would never be able to know her people or know her true race and culture simply because of hate, and of how hate had taken Agnes's sweet life. Tears began to form in his eyes. He quickly turned from Mr. Tyson.