The Quaker and the Rebel (24 page)

“You don’t say.” Smiling, the colonel sank into the opposite chair. Smith and Ellsworth lounged against a wall in the small, cramped office.

“I do say, sir. That madman is cutting lines, tearing up train tracks, burning bridges, and taking hostages as we speak. He’s nothing but a ruthless guerrilla. If he were here right now, I would show him what we do to guerrillas like him and Quantrill.” In a surprising show of bravado, the paunchy operator drew a long-barreled Colt from his drawer. He flourished it before the nose of the curious, bearded officer.

“He’s taking hostages? Are you sure about that, sir?” The colonel knew his notoriety went far and wide, yet false reports of callousness raised his ire like nothing else.

“Yes, sir. He stopped a trainload of invalid soldiers and civilian merchants with women and children. He held the train captive for hours until ransoms could be paid for the passengers’ release.”

A muscle twitched in the colonel’s jaw, but he kept his voice steady. “When did all this take place?”

“Yesterday. The Gray Wraith released the train just this morning after he got paid his blood money.”

“Is that so?” The colonel leaned close to the barrel of the revolver. Then, faster than the operator could blink, Alexander snatched the weapon from his hand, spun it around, and stuck it in his belt. “If I was in Winchester this morning, how could I possibly be here in Warrenton talking to you now?”

The operator pondered for a moment and then paled considerably. He drew in an uneasy breath. “I see your point, sir. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Then I suggest you not repeat tall tales to complete strangers.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, Alexander loomed inches from the
man’s face. “In the meantime, kindly hand over your code book and recent dispatches to my associate.” He nodded in the direction of Ellsworth.

Paralyzed with fear, the operator stared mutely at the legendary rebel. Smith and Ellsworth cocked their revolvers. “Did you not hear the man?” barked Smith.

“Yes, sir.” The operator snapped out of his trance and provided Ellsworth with everything necessary to transmit erroneous information to telegraph offices in every direction.

The three rangers, without firing a shot, sent the Union Army on a goose chase of epic proportions. It was all in a good day’s work, but it gave Alexander little pleasure anymore.

“Slow down, Miss Emily,” Lila pleaded, hanging tightly to the side of the wagon.

“If we slow down, we’ll never make it to Berryville by dark.” Emily didn’t take her attention off the strong draft horse careening down the narrow road at breakneck speed. “And I have no desire to spend a moonless night in these woods.” She bobbed her head toward the overgrown swamp, filled with snakes and insects of every size and shape. “That wouldn’t make for a comfortable evening. We couldn’t move ten feet into these stunted pines, thorny Hawthorne bushes, and blackberry briars.”

Lila gazed into dense, moss-hung branches and nodded. “I agree, but if we throw a wheel, we’ll have a hard time explaining why we’re stuck out here. This is
not
the road back from Harper’s Ferry.”

Emily tugged on the reins, slowing the team. “You’re right. I’m just eager to be done with this. Dr. Bennington said the Union Army has taken Winchester and are encamped all around it. That’s not far from here.” A shudder ran from her shoulders to her feet.

Lila gave her an odd look. “Why are you so worried about running into Yankees? I thought you were a Yankee yourself.”

“I don’t wish to encounter soldiers from either side. Both would demand explanations as to what we’re doing out here. And the less said about that, the better.”

“We wouldn’t fool anyone that you’re a lady out for a drive with her personal maid,” huffed Lila. “Not when you insist on driving the wagon yourself. No mistress would ever do such a thing.”

“That’s another reason to finish and head back to Martinsburg, but you have a point.” Emily begrudgingly handed the reins to Lila.

It wasn’t the possibility of running into Union pickets or Confederate scouts that concerned Emily. Her steady stream of lies to Porter and Augusta Bennington had begun to take their toll. She also worried about involving Lila in her personal mission, and that the amount of food they gave the runaways wouldn’t be adequate for their trip north. When the wagon rounded the final curve and began the steep descent into the barnyard, Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Both women were so tired they didn’t notice trodden weeds or fresh hoof prints in the dirt.

Emily jumped from the wagon and hurried into the barn, leaving the door ajar in order to see.

“Hello? Hello?” she repeated. “I am Miss Harrison from Martinsburg. I received a message from Mr. and Mrs. Brent.” With the name of the previous safe house, she heard a slight rustle in the dark. Emily squinted, trying to focus in the thin light. To her surprise, an ancient black man with pure white hair and a deeply creased face stepped from behind the bales.

“Yes’m, I’m Jacob and this is my wife, Ruth.” The man had to be eighty if he was a day.

“How do you do?” Emily watched as he helped an equally old woman to her feet. Her arthritic fingers curled around a walking stick, and a white film covered her right eye. Seldom did slaves their age wish to make the journey to a new life in an unknown land. The woman gazed at Emily for a long moment.

As though reading her mind, Jacob explained, “They were gonna split us up. Send me to Richmond to be the daughter’s driver and not let my wife come with me.” He patted Ruth’s hand with tenderness.
“Nobody gonna split us up ’cept the Lord in death. And that only be for a short while.” When the barn door opened, Jacob moved protectively in front of Ruth.

Lila led the Percheron inside. “Looks like rain. He might break loose and bolt if we get thunder.” Lila stole sidelong glances at the couple as she cross-tied the horse and broke open two bales of hay.

The couple gawked at the well-dressed black woman.

“S’pose you haven’t seen too many free people of color. Where y’all from?” Lila used country dialect to try to put them at ease.

“We’ve seen freemen, but none looked like you.” Jacob rubbed his bristly chin. “We escaped a tobacco farm in the Carolinas.”

Emily still wasn’t sure what to say in these situations. Her parents never prepared her for face-to-face encounters. “This is my helper and friend, Miss Amite. We’re both recently from Martinsburg, but formerly of Parkersburg in the western counties of Virginia.” The couple turned their attention from Lila back to her, their expressions increasingly anxious.

“Now that you have made proper introductions, we can all fill out our dance cards for the ball later,” Lila whispered under her breath to Emily and rolled her eyes. “In the meantime I’ll fill the water buckets.”

Emily wrinkled her face into a scowl. “Speaking of which, I had better start dinner.” She headed for the wagon with Lila on her heels.

“I’ll fix dinner after I get water. You can make our guests comfortable for the night.” Lila set down the buckets and retrieved the hamper from the wagon.

“Don’t be silly, Lila. You already unhitched and fed the horse, so it’s my job to cook. We split work down the middle, remember?” Emily pulled the hamper from Lila’s hand.

“The horse was no trouble. I insist you let me make supper.” Lila huffed like a riled hen.

“What will they think if I let you do all the work?” Emily spoke softly so the runaways wouldn’t hear.

“Would it better be if they thought a white woman was trying to poison them?” Lila tugged at the hamper straps with both hands.

“Poison them? I can cook just as well as you.” Emily straightened her spine to be half a head taller than Lila, therefore gaining an illusory advantage.

“You certainly cannot cook better than me. You nearly burned my mother’s kitchen to the ground on Bennington Island.”

“I did
not
nearly burn your mother’s…” Emily’s voice trailed off when she noticed the couple in the doorway. They stared as though facing two madwomen.

Then Ruth broke into a laugh, revealing a mouth with few lower teeth. “Why don’t y’all let me do the cookin’ since I’ve had the most practice?” Clucking her tongue, she walked to Emily and held out her hand.

“Thank you, Ruth.” Emily gave the woman the hamper.

Assessing Lila’s fashionable outfit once more, Ruth made another clucking sound as she crossed the barnyard toward her husband. Jacob had already uncovered a fire pit and limped off to find kindling.

“If we’re not careful, they’re going to run away from
us
,” Emily said to Lila as they each picked up a water bucket. Soon they had all gathered enough twigs and branches for a cook fire.

Ruth proved to be the best choice of chefs. In no time, she diced an onion for the pot of pinto beans that had been soaking all day. Jacob picked a basket of greens behind the barn, which Ruth wilted atop the beans as they simmered. Lila gathered windfall apples beneath a scraggly tree, while Emily set out a loaf of Johnnycake and jar of sweet tea from the hamper. An hour later, Jacob carried the pot inside the barn and they settled themselves on the floor.

Jacob bowed his head. “Lord, thank You for brungin’ us thus far and for the meal we are ’bout to partake.”

After everyone murmured “Amen,” Lila filled bowls with the steaming beans. Emily watched the couple as they ate, slowly due to poor teeth. They talked little, quaking nervously each time a bird stirred in a rafter nest or the wind whistled through cracks between the boards. Emily gave up trying to initiate conversation and ate in quiet
companionship. She had been a silly, naive woman to think runaways, who had lived vastly different lives, would find any common ground with her.

As the moon appeared low in the eastern sky, Jacob doused the fire, Lila washed the tin plates, and Emily repacked the wagon. Then Jacob helped Ruth up onto the hay bales and covered her with a tattered patchwork quilt. “God bless you, miss,” he said to Emily.

“And you. Sleep easy, Jacob. You’re safe here.”

He met her eye, his eyes yellowed from age. “No one is safe in this world. Our future is in God’s hands, but I thank ya just the same.” He crawled up next to his wife, propped their sack of garments for a pillow and promptly fell asleep.

Truer words were never spoken. Emily listened to their muffled snores long into the night, envious of the trust and love they shared. They had made an irrevocable decision. They would forge ahead, risking everything to stay together. Wisdom must come with age. This couple had no need to lie or deceive each other. No need to be anything other than what they were. Without knowing the future or their fate, they trusted the Lord and rested in the sweet shelter of the other’s love. Nothing else in the world seemed quite as precious as that.

At first light Lila fed the horses, Emily hitched the wagon, and the foursome left the Berryville barn. Emily felt oddly tranquil, as though the couple were already safely in Pennsylvania and she were home in bed. Her serenity was misguided at best, because Alexander’s valet knew about this location. Suddenly, a horse and rider appeared as the steep path from the barn joined the road. The Thoroughbred reared and pranced, startled by the huge Percheron.

The man struggled to settle his horse. “Why, you’re Miss Harrison, are you not? What a surprise. I’ve had my eye on this place hoping to catch some Yankee deserters.”

“I am, sir,” she sputtered. “But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” Emily couldn’t place the fastidiously dressed man with tall equestrian boots. As he apparently knew her, she prayed to make the connection before saying something foolish.