Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad (10 page)

Once supper was under way, I gave in to the need to see Josiah one more time. I crept up the stairs to the hideout, where he sat practicing his writing by candlelight. He smiled when I opened the panel.

“Just one more kiss,” I told him.

A half hour later I was back in the kitchen, when my brothers and father returned, noisily stomping snow off their boots. The reason for the noise was soon clear; they weren’t alone. The Bedford Constable, Peter Ackroyd, Smith and Weaver Hartley and two strangers followed them in.

My hand went to my mouth. “A slave? Hiding a slave? Who told you that?” As though I didn’t know the Hartleys had something to do with it.

“Can’t say, Ma’am. These here two are slave catchers from Virginny. Say there’s a three hundred dollar price on that un’s head.”

The slave catchers were low-looking men. Unclean, unshaven, ragged, and they smelled. I couldn’t help myself. I sneered at the whole company. “Well, it always does come down to money, and this lot looks like they need some. Perhaps for drink!”

The constable moved around the kitchen, looking for places a man could hide. He poked here and prodded there, looked behind and under, then nodded to Jesse.

“You the one they say helps ‘em. On that Underground Railroad. You Quakers is a defiant bunch. Let’s see the rest of the house.”

Jesse led them into the parlor and took his time lighting a lamp. They clumped through the room, the three Redfields silent while the others touched things and pushed things aside. Then they tramped up the front stairs into my room. My heart was running wild. Josiah had to have heard, and Jesse was giving him plenty of time to get safe, but still panic ruled my mind. I heard them move into Betsy’s room and back out. Then down into Nathaniel’s room. The slave catchers were getting surly now.

“You nigger-lovers think you can fool us, but you can’t. We got ways ’a knowin’ about you,” one of them growled.

I could hear them above me now, eight men, standing in Jesse’s little room while Josiah cowered behind the false wall. They stood around for eternal minutes. I heard furniture moved, bumped against the wall. Fear caught me anew, and I pumped water into a basin to distract myself. The racket of the pump outdid the pounding of my heart.

They clumped down the back stairs, Jesse leading with the lamp, Amos and Nathaniel following our ‘guests’.

“Now the barn,” the constable growled. It was a cold night, and this was hateful duty. Whether he was for or against slavery, he had to pursue runaways and co-operate with slave catchers because of that miserable Fugitive Slave Law.

“Sure,” Jesse obliged. “Let me get my coat.”

In a half hour, when my father and brothers returned, I parted the kitchen curtains and watched three shadowy figures ride out of the dooryard. Two others turned down over the hill on foot. They disappeared into the night, but I was haunted by the fear that they would turn around and ask for another look. Jesse stood in the shadows behind me.

“We’ll tell him it’s Rebecca’s time, and you got called to care for her. The snow’s getting deep, so follow Ben and Pa’s tracks across the field.”

Two hours later, Josiah and I, wrapped in warm coats, stepped out into the January night. There was no moon, and, grateful for the darkness, we held onto each other and trudged through the deep snow in silence. We watched warily for any sign of the Hartleys or their slave catching friends. Dimly lit, Ben’s house looked as though no one was home when we approached. I knocked softly and tried the door. It opened, and we entered.

Ben, sitting at the table, rose when he saw the situation. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Shelter for the night. Jesse will do something else tomorrow.”

Rebecca, huge with child, stood with the three little girls, in their nightgowns, clustered around her skirts. They’d never seen a black man before, and Rebecca would convince all but six-year-old Jane that this was a dream. Jane could be trusted not to speak of it.

Ben took Josiah up the ladder to the loft where the children slept, while Rebecca and I distracted the little girls with finger play. He returned alone and sat down again at the table in silence.

“I’ll be leaving, then. Jesse will do something tomorrow,” I assured him. Ben wasn’t opposed to the work we did, but he was clearly worried about his family.

I thanked them for helping. Rebecca nodded as I tied my scarf tighter around my face and stepped back out into the snow. I trudged the half mile home, watching the shadows, trembling with cold and fear, my former troubles lost in new turmoil. This was life and death.

M
orning dawned in a storm, blown in overnight.
Heavy snow before daylight.

“This storm will likely keep the slave catchers inside. Virginia boys aren’t used to this kind of weather,” Jesse announced at breakfast. “But I’ve gotta move Josiah on. He’s not safe with the Hartleys nosing around.”

Nervous and distraught for more reasons than Jesse knew, I agreed. I plunged into work to keep my mind off my fears. “What are we going to do, Jesse?”

“I’ll wait until dark and move him then.”

I knew better than to ask where or how. I was confident Jesse knew this business, but my fear for Josiah grew out of all reason. Out in hostile territory in the worst month of winter, his chances of reaching Canada safely were slim. Exposure to the elements alone could doom him, to say nothing of being hounded by slave catchers. “It’s a bad time to travel,” I ventured.

“Yes and no,” Jesse replied. ”At least the enemy will think so. I hope they’ll think I’ll wait for the weather to break, so they’ll let up while it’s bad and keep an eye on me as soon as it warms up.”

Someone was stomping snow off their boots on the back porch. Who could be out there so early? Jesse rose and opened the door to Ben’s six-year-old, Jane.

“Aunt Ann,” the child said. “Papa sent me to get you. It’s Mama’s time.”

Taking the child on his knee, Jesse talked to her at the breakfast table while I scurried to pack a little bag of medicines and put on my boots and coat. We stepped out into a world of blowing snow, barely able to make out the path. We walked slowly, bent against the wind.

“Because some bad men wanted to take him back. Uncle Jesse is hiding him from them.” I held her arm as we made our way through the deep snow.

My heart ached to picture Josiah cramped inside a trunk. Still, I was glad to be going to him. Rebecca needed me, that was certain, but I would feel better being under the same roof as Josiah.

We were near Ben’s house now; it was barely visible through the falling snow. I heard a horse whinny. Out on the road, I could barely discern three figures on horseback riding slowly toward Redfield Farm. Oh, Jesse. Be careful.

I looked at Jane, my finger to my lips. We stood immobile in the blowing snow as the men passed within thirty yards of us. Silently we moved on.

At Ben’s house I found Rebecca curled up on her side in the bed in a corner of the main room. Ben and the other two little girls were seated at the table. I took off my wraps and warmed my hands at the fire before going to Rebecca. She was resting now, between contractions. To my somewhat unpracticed eye, this looked like a routine birth, but I hoped for someone who knew more than I to confirm that.

“I’ll take the girls over to Rebecca’s mother’s and bring back her sister, Hannah. She’s a good midwife. Between the two of you, she’ll be in good hands,” Ben explained.

I nodded. “The girls can stay with Grandma Finley until it’s over. I’ll keep things in order here until Hannah arrives.”

“I’ve got some bricks heating for our feet. I’ll go hitch up the team if you’ll get the girls dressed.” Ben was on his way out the door.

All three children were soon bundled up, waiting for their father. I wrapped the hot bricks in feed sacks and handed them to Ben when he returned.

They were barely gone when Rebecca was seized with another contraction. I held her hand and wiped her brow, spoke to her softly, and hoped that Hannah would get there in time. It could be a couple of hours before Ben returned. Travel, even in a sleigh, would be slow today. I prayed the baby would wait.

Once Rebecca’s pain subsided, I cleared away the breakfast dishes, washed them and straightened up the room, all the while thinking of Josiah on the floor above.

“Did Josiah get breakfast yet?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Rebecca replied.

I cut a slab of cornbread and poured molasses on it. Gathering my skirts, I climbed the ladder to the loft. Everything looked normal. The trunk was pushed against the end wall, the children’s beds unmade. I moved quickly to the trunk and spoke.

Josiah ate the corn bread slowly. His eyes sought mine, and he touched my hand. Meeting his touch, I raised my eyes to his and yielded to his kiss. Then, recovering myself, I rose to pull up the quilts on the little girls’ beds.

“You can probably stay out for a while. Rest on here if you like.” I indicated one of the beds. Afraid of arousing Rebecca’s suspicion, I descended the ladder after a last lingering look at Josiah.

Rebecca’s pains were closer together now, and I prayed fervently for Ben to hurry up and get back. There was a knock at the door. I hadn’t heard anyone ride up, but horses moved silently through deep snow. Moving aside the curtain, I saw three horses standing outside, and, heart in my throat, I opened the door.

“Mornin’ Ma’am,” the constable said with exaggerated courtesy.

“What do
you
want?” I replied curtly.

“Wanna have a look around. Been to
your
house already. Stopped your brother and checked his sleigh, too. That leaves this house,” he said, moving to enter.

I tried to block his way. “You can’t barge in here like this! That woman is having a baby!” I indicated Rebecca, pale and wan in the bed.

The three men jostled me aside and entered anyway. “Just wanna have a look, Ma’am.”

I stood by the open door, my eyes blazing. “The least you could do is close the door. Or didn’t your mothers teach you common manners? Where are your friends, the Hartley boys? Couldn’t get them out of bed yet?”

Ignoring me, the three moved about the room, looking in cupboards and behind furniture. One got down on his hands and knees to look under the birthing bed.

I eyed them with contempt. “Things must be bad where you come from, that you’d stoop to this level just for money. How can you stand yourselves? Look at you! Harassing a woman giving birth! You are scum. You are lower than snake shit!”

The constable looked uncomfortable but moved toward the ladder, giving me cause to start in on him again.

“What are you going to tell your children when they ask what you did today? That you searched a child’s bedroom and terrorized a woman in pain so you could help a couple of thieves capture a man and return him to slavery? Is that what you’ll tell them?”

Ackroyd turned his back and climbed to the second rung. Rebecca screamed out in pain. “Oh, Ann! It’s coming! It’s coming!”

I rushed to her side, reaching for her hand. Rebecca writhed in pain, thrashing on the bed.

The two slave catchers backed toward the door. The constable peeked over the edge of the loft, and dropped down to the floor as I jumped up and grabbed the fire poker.

“Get out!” I screamed. “Get out before I bash your ignorant heads in!” I flew at the retreating men, brandishing the poker, leaving no doubt that I was good for my threat. The three pushed through the door and I slammed it behind them, shoving the wooden bar in place.