Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad (24 page)

“Sam and Lettie and
Ann
,” he added.

“Didn’t. Early spring a man come to Dresden from Shenandoah County, Virginny. Place called Mt. Jackson. He from the same place my mamma on. We talk long about where it is and how he come up from there to Cumberland and the rest of the way.”

I led him into the kitchen. “How do you know it’s really your mother?”

“Her name Mandy. She a house slave, personal servant to the mistress. Like Lettie. My mamma brought up in that. She the right age, about fifty. Man say she always talkin’ ’bout her little boy Josiah, that she got sold away from.”

“He’s not the same man he was. His left arm isn’t entirely useless, but it’s pretty weak. He doesn’t do much of the heavy work anymore.”

“No. Couldn’t risk tryin’ to get word to her. The less people who know, the better. Gonna find the plantation, camp out as close as I can and try to contact her.”

“I’ll be worried sick about you. This is such a dangerous business, and Sam needs you, Josiah.”

He nodded. “I know, but I couldn’t let my mamma die a slave, and me knowin’ where she is.”

I sighed. I understood that deep sense of responsibility only too well. “All right. I can move you down to Cumberland maybe tomorrow or the next day. I know someone who trades there. He brings people back with him when the need arises, but I doubt if he’s ever taken anyone down.”

“Thank you, Ann. I knew you’d help. If I’m lucky this shouldn’t take but a week or so. Hope to move right back north through the same stations I come on.”

“I
hope
you’re lucky. Otherwise, I’ll be sick with worry. You can sleep in Jesse’s room tonight. He’ll be back in the morning.” I went upstairs to find him some linen, struggling with the desire to fall asleep in his arms. When I returned to the kitchen I found Papa and Abby, back from a visit to Ben’s.

“Josiah’s here,” I told them.

“Josiah? You mean him,
Josiah
?” Abby blurted. “What’s
he
doin’ here?”

“He’s headed back south to bring his mother out.”

“How long’s
he
gonna be here?”

I went to bed with plans for Josiah’s trip in my head, but sleep eluded me. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I longed to share my bed with him, to be held as only he had held me. Morning was slow in coming, as was relief from the yearning.

I cooked breakfast for Amos and Nathaniel, and more for Josiah when he came downstairs. Abby watched us with a vigilance that would have impressed a hawk. I assigned her to the spinning, took the horse Nathaniel saddled for me and rode away to the Pell farm near Fishertown.

Tyler Pell was in his field when I arrived; I walked between the corn rows to talk to him. Tyler had a truck farm, and Cumberland, Maryland, was his best market. Yes, he was going to Cumberland later that day to get a head start for tomorrow’s early market. Yes, he could conceal a man and deliver him into safe hands, if there was anyone fool enough to want to go back. Yes, he could be counted on to provide transport back on market day a week, under cover of darkness. He was known on the road between Cumberland and Bedford, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I thanked him, promising to deliver the ‘package’ early that afternoon.

At home, I went to the barn to unsaddle the horse and found Jesse and Josiah, sitting on a couple of upturned logs, talking like conspirators. Jesse had drawn a crude map on the barn floor with a horseshoe nail and was apprising Josiah of safe houses on the way south.

“Once you’re in Cumberland, Pell can settle you with Jeremiah Hobbs. He’s been a conductor for years and will know the safe houses down probably as far as Romney, at least. You’ll be in the mountains, mostly on seldom traveled roads. That’s good in some ways and not so good in others,” Jesse counseled him.

I remembered my errand. “Tyler Pell’s leaving this afternoon for Cumberland. Jesse can take you over to his house in the wagon, and he’ll hide you among his vegetables for the trip.”

“That be fine. Thank you, Ann. I should get to Mt. Jackson in two or three days. Then contact my mama. If she willin’, it take a day or so to set up a plan. Her bein’ house help, we run at night, soon as she’s off, to give us a start before they know she gone. I’m still hopin’ to be back here in a week.”

“I know the road to Cumberland,” Jesse continued. “I could get you that far as well as Tyler Pell. From then on, we’d just let ourselves be passed from one safe house to the next. What do you say, Josiah? Should we try it?”

Josiah’s face broke into a huge grin. He shook Jesse’s good hand. “You ’n me, together, we can do it just fine.”

I kept silent, sure that expressing my fears wouldn’t change any minds. I excused myself and went back to the house already planning for their needs. Jesse would need some fancy clothes. Maybe Betsy’s brother-in-law would have something. It meant a day or two delay until we could fit the two of them up for the masquerade. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I prepared the noon meal. Why did men insist on courting danger?

Two days later, two days and nights filled with worry and longing, we saw them off on the road to Cumberland. Then I settled down to the hardest waiting I’ve ever done.

Jesse looked so fine, dressed in gentlemen’s clothes. Josiah chafed at donning slave’s overalls again. They took Ben’s buggy and a good team. Not the best, so as not to attract too much attention, but a good, solid, reliable team. The plan was to travel in daylight. No one would question a white gentleman with a Negro headed south. When they got to Mt. Jackson, Jesse would approach the owner of the plantation—actually it was little more than a farm, according to Josiah’s source—saying he was returning south with a runaway, and ask for hospitality. Josiah would be chained up in the barn while Jesse was wined and dined, but it would be his chance to contact his mother.

The next morning they would thank their host for his kindness and move on south. They’d hide out during the day and meet Josiah’s mother after dark, headed north.

It should work. I knew it should, but that didn’t slow my fears. Abby was no help. She was as worried as I. So we went through each day distracted, jumpy, a little tense with each other.

After Jesse’s last mishap, Nathaniel and Amos were all too aware of what might happen. Nathaniel seemed more concerned than Amos, probably because he, as a young man, might have been the one to accompany Josiah. He would have, if asked, but it was not Nathaniel’s way to volunteer.

I tried to reckon how far they’d go in a day and where they should be at a given time. If their plan worked, they would leave Mt. Jackson on Seventh Day evening, an advantageous time, because slaves had First Day off, and Amanda wouldn’t be missed until Second Day morning. With good luck they could be fifty to seventy miles away by then.

Going over it in my mind, I saw them reaching a safe house that first night before midnight. On First Day they could probably move north unmolested along a little traveled mountain road, all the way to Romney if they were lucky. The Cumberland Friends could be counted on to provide fake bills of sale for Amanda and Josiah, in case anyone asked.

According to my calculations, the soonest we could expect them back was the following Third Day. I told myself such dispatch was unlikely, that something surely would slow them down, but in spite of myself, I started to look for them on Third Day. I kept an eye on the road, stopping work to gaze through the trees, trying to will them home. By evening, I had to struggle to keep worry at bay. To keep busy I crocheted a little sweater for Baby Ann. I slept that night, but fitfully, awakening, listening at every sound.

Fourth Day was a more reasonable expectation. Given a smooth path, they could easily make it back by that evening, but they didn’t. I was of a seriously worried mind by then. Finishing up the sweater wasn’t enough to calm my fears. That night I didn’t think I slept at all, but I must have. Some.

By Fifth Day morning, I was fighting waves of panic. I snapped at Abby, and Abby, also full of fear, mostly for Jesse, snapped back. Amos had long since retreated into a shell of silence, and Nathaniel took to riding out the road to the south in hopes of meeting them. Nothing.

I spent another night in anguish, crying quietly in my bed. I made plans to go to Canada and bring Sam back. I made funeral plans for the three of them, sure the Friends would let me bury them at Spring Meadow. I got out of bed, knelt and prayed as I had never prayed before, bargaining with God, promising anything I could think of, if only they came home safe.

On Sixth Day evening just after dark, Abby, out on the back porch, let out a whoop.

“Ann! Ann! They’re here! They’re comin’. Someone’s coming! It must be them!”

A
s the buggy turned in at the gate, I held a lantern aloft, straining to count the occupants.
Oddly, it looked like four. In the barn, I closed the door as Nathaniel helped two black women out of the buggy. Josiah stepped down and walked around to the older woman’s side. The other black woman, hardly more than a girl, hung back, fearful.

“Mamma,” Josiah said with a smile, “this Ann Redfield, Jesse’s sister I told you about.”

The small black woman’s face lit up. “You save my boy,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “An’ he save me. Thank the Lord. This my daughter, Lovely.”

Oh, Josiah, you have a sister!” I laughed, giddy with relief at seeing them whole and healthy. “We’d best get the three of you settled for the night. I know you’re tired. We’ll hear your story in the morning.”

Josiah led his mother and sister up the ladder to the loft. Nathaniel took care of the horses, and Amos and I helped Jesse unload the buggy. Josiah elected to stay in the barn, so we walked to the house, Jesse with his good arm on my shoulder. “This was as much adventure as I need in my life,” he said wearily. “I can’t wait to get out of these dandy clothes.”

I slept that night, the deep sleep of relief from the darkest fears. Next morning my mind was already laying plans for moving them on. I cooked enough breakfast to satisfy hearty appetites.

Jesse came down dressed in his farm clothes, looking pleased with himself.

“Let’s take breakfast out to the barn so you can hear the story while we eat,” he suggested.

Abby helped me carry the food in baskets and buckets to the barn. Nathaniel upended logs in a circle, and we sat to eat, plates in our laps.

“All right, Jesse, let’s hear it,” Nathaniel prodded.

“Well, we got down there fine in two and a half days. Found the place. Not a big plantation or anything—more like a big farm, an orchard farm. They grow fruit—apples, peaches, pears, and some grapes.”

“Fine peaches. Fine grapes,” Amanda added with pride.

Jesse nodded. “Amanda’d been there for twenty-five years. It was hard for her to leave.”

“Yes’m,” Amanda said. “That a long time. Mistress good to me. I help her raise five children. They just like my own.” She looked at Josiah and smiled. “Not
quite
like my own,” she corrected herself. “No one like your own babies!”