by Michael Ross
Luther tripped. Some of the clean clothes went flying into the mud from last night’s rain.
Sam stood back and laughed, then picked up the basket from where Luther dropped it. “Looks like you folks might need some help,” Sam guffawed. “Seems like Luther here ain’t used to Ohio mud. Needs to get more friendly like wid it. How ‘bout I help you with these, Ruth? I bet I can get to de cabin without falling over my own feet.”
Ruth turned on him, eyes blazing, hands on her hips. “How ‘bout you pick up all de clothes you just spoiled, and rewash them for me? You think you funny? You got less sense dan de dawg! Or would you rather I go talk to Pa?” She turned, offered Luther a hand up, then seized the basket from Sam. “I can handle these on my own. Luther, you go on get washed up for lunch. I’ll tell Mama Sam ain’t havin’ lunch today, he too busy working.” She walked off into the house.
Luther glared at Sam. “What you think you doin’? Ain’t it enough you spoiled Mr. Jenkins’ tools I was makin’ last week?”
“I cain’t help it if you burned them up,” said Sam innocently. “You got de fire too hot, left ‘em too long.”
Luther boiled. “If I see you mess up one more order of mine….”
“What? How ‘bout you stay away from Ruth and I stay away from your orders? You think you gonna do sumpin’, come on!” said Sam, assuming fighting stance.
Luther knew Sam was too strong for him. In a direct assault he’d stand little chance, though now he’s only about forty pounds lighter and two inches shorter. He also knew Ned did not tolerate fighting, and this position was too important to him to lose. Gritting his teeth and forcing his arms to his sides, he turned away.
Sam laughed and dropped his arms, slapping his knee. “I knew it! Just a plain ol’ coward. Run home to Mama, boy!”
Luther was tempted to turn, but just kept walking to the pump.
✳ ✳ ✳
A few days later, Luther saw Ned finish up with a customer. He hurried out of the barn to catch up with him. “Mr. Smith? Can I talk to you?”
“Sure, Luther. What’s on your mind?”
“Are you happy with my work here, sir?”
Ned scratched his head, puzzled. “Yes, Luther. I’ve been very happy with it. I would’ve let you know otherwise. Why?”
“I just wanted to know if you think I have a future blacksmithing. Because … because I’d like to ask if I might keep company with Ruth. I wouldn’t want you to think I had no way to support her,” Luther said nervously.
Ned laughed. “That doesn’t really come as a surprise. Have you talked to her about it?”
“No, sir. I wanted to ask you first.”
“Well, I think you’ll find she just wonders what took you so long. She and Olivia are becoming good friends, too.” Then more seriously, he said, “I’ve no objection, except … except that you need to realize you are not secure in your life here. A slave catcher could come through any time and steal you and your whole family away. I’ve seen it happen, and I wouldn’t want that heartbreak on my Ruth. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Yes, sir,” said Luther despondently. “But what can I do?”
“Well, for now, nothing. Let’s keep this between ourselves and see how things develop. When John Parker came through, he said that someone might be able to ask some discreet questions, find out if they’re still looking for you. He promised to pass back what he hears. Let’s wait for that. Meanwhile, you may spend time with her—but just be careful,” he said, his words laced with warning. “Be careful of my daughter’s heart. I am not a man to be crossed.”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” It was more than Luther hoped.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia finished at the dress shop and locked up. It was late, near sunset, and summer humidity was beginning to creep into Lexington. She started toward the post office, to pick up the family mail from their box. She was distracted in thought, and almost walked out in front of a horse going down the street. She felt someone pull her arm back. Startled, she was about to grab a hatpin to stab the offender, when she recognized Joe.
“You should be careful, Albinia. Drivers can’t always see well this time of day.”
“Yes … yes, thank you, Joe. I guess I was lost in thought, not watching as I should.”
“What’s so important? I was coming to ask you something, but it can wait.”
“No, no. That’s all right. What did you want to ask?”
“We’ve been going around together for a few months now. I … I really want to formally ask to court you.”
“Joe … Joe, I can’t.”
“Why not? I mean, well, if you need more time, I can understand. But we have fun together.”
Albinia felt strangely conflicted. She really did like Joe. It was flattering to have him ask. She strengthened her resolve.
“I know … and I feel bad about refusing. But I simply can’t. That business with Luther … that hasn’t been the only time, Joe. There have been others. I’m deeply involved. I can’t ask you to….”
“If that’s all it is, don’t worry. I could help.”
“There’s more. I … I’m committed to David.”
Joe looked like she had struck him. “What? You mean all this time…?”
“I’m not proud of it. But yes. You are a dear sweet friend, and I do enjoy time with you. I … I’m even attracted to you. But I love someone else. Don’t you see? I could never settle into the safe, secure life with the Breckinridge family. I couldn’t be the wife you want, that you deserve.”
“So that’s it then? You’ve just been using me?” he said angrily.
“Please, don’t say that. It’s not true, not really. Maybe in the beginning it was. As I’ve gotten to know you, I see what a fine decent man you are. It’s been a struggle for me, really. But it isn’t fair to you to continue. My conscience has bothered me every time I’ve gotten a letter from David and responded. Please don’t hate me. I’ve wanted to tell you the past few weeks. You asking about courting now, well, I just have to say what’s in my heart. It won’t do to hide it any longer. I hope we can be friends. Just not … courting.”
“So you’ve been deceiving everyone? Your father? My parents? Maybe I was wrong … maybe you aren’t the woman I thought you were. I guess I’m lucky to find out now.” Joe turned and walked away, into the gloom of the evening.
Albinia went back into the shop, sat down, and wept.
✳ ✳ ✳
The next morning, Albinia stopped at the post office. She’d spent a restless night praying, crying, and second-guessing herself, tossing and turning on the cot at the shop. She couldn’t face Katy, or her mother, who would know something was wrong. She checked with the mail clerk—and there was a letter from David! Her heart soared, but she also wondered if anything was wrong. She hurried back to the shop, locked the front door, and sat down in the back to read.
March 19, 1860
Dearest Binia,
I apologize for not writing for so long—Mr. Garrison’s schedule has been very demanding, and we have opposition at every turn. Twice we’ve almost been ambushed on the street. I don’t wish to worry you, but please pray for our safety and for God to go before us with the message of freedom.
How I’ve missed you! I pray for your safety daily, and I wish we could do a moonlit ride through the Boston Common, or out to Concord, free of stress and danger.
I often think of you, and long for when we can be together. I love your courage, your smile, and even your unpredictability. I dream of a long happy future together. I will send for you as soon as it is safe.
Love, David
✳ ✳ ✳
They were gone. Just gone. Luther couldn’t believe it. He came back to Ned’s shop from getting supplies in Russellville and found the livery, the shop, the cabin deserted. No one seemed to be moving even on the streets of the village here. Where was everyone?
“Mama? Olivia? Anybody here?” called Luther, beginning to panic. And where
was Ruth? And Ned? How could they all be gone? Luther quickly unhitched the horses and put them away. He began to run around the cabin and shop area, calling names. He climbed to the loft and called again.
“They gone.”
He heard the flat tone in the voice. From under the hay, Sam rose up. “They all gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“De slave catcher come. He surprised Ned, knock him out. He had de dogs, snarlin’ and bitin’. He had guns, and chains, and whips. He and two other men, dey came and took ‘em. Clara, she try to run.”
“And where were you? Why didn’t they take you?”
“I saw ‘em hit Ned. Wasn’t no use me fightin’ three of dem wid guns. So I hid up here, real quiet. I don’ know anymore. ‘Cept I heard dem say dey come back for you.”
“So you just hid? You just let them be taken? Ned, Katy, and Ruth, and the children? My family? Now who’s a coward!” raged Luther.
“I tell you ain’t no use! Dey woulda just got me, like Ned. Katy, she try to tell ‘em we free. We not runaways. Dey jus laugh, hit her wid de butt of de whip.”
“What about the rest of the village here?”
“Some, dey got. De rest, dey hide like me. We always hide when de slave catcher come. Free, runaway, don’ make no difference. Some of dem slave catchers, dey kidnap free blacks, sell ‘em into slavery just de same.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’ know. Dey come right about lunchtime. I gwine to wait for sunset, make sure dey gone. Stay hid till den. But I hear you, I figger dey must be gone, or dey have you squawkin’ like a chased hen.”
“Get up!” Luther grabbed Sam roughly. “Get up! We’re going after them!”
“What! You crazy! You just get yo self caught. You best take one of de horses, ride for Canada, ‘fore dey come back for you.”
“I am not leaving my family in the hands of slave catchers. And not Ruth either. And you’re going to help me or I swear I’ll kill you.” Luther grabbed a pitchfork in the loft, menacing Sam. “We’re going to need help. Knock on doors, get as many men and guns as you can. These people owe Ned some favors. Time to collect. Tell ‘em next time it could be them. We need to fight back, now! Before they’ve gone too far. Maybe they haven’t crossed the river yet.”
Sam stood, doubtfully, but seeing the pitchfork and Luther’s determination, said, “All right. But dey gone.” He backed away from Luther and scrambled down the ladder. Luther didn’t know whether he would actually help or just run. He was determined to go after them, even risking capture or death.
He climbed down and began banging on doors, yelling for people to come out, that the slave catcher was gone. He looked everywhere, every possible hiding place he could think of. Soon he had a gathering of about ten men in front of the livery stable.
Luther stood on a hay bale and looked out at them. “Men, you been kind to me and my family. You know Ned Smith. You know how he has helped me. He’s helped many of you as well. If you just stand by and see him sold into slavery, how can you call yourself men? Won’t you just be saying the same as the white men, that we’re just frightened children? I’m not gonna lie—I’m scared. Scared for myself, for what might happen. But I’m even more scared for my mama, for my sisters, for Ned, Ruth, and Katy. I’m goin’ whether any of you come or not. Next time de slave catcher may come for you and your family. Who’s with me?”
Several of the men looked doubtfully at each other, but a few stepped forward. Last of all, Sam moved to join them.
“All right. Now who has guns? We’re gonna need ‘em.” Several hands raised.
“I got two shotguns, for squirrels,” said one. “I got a rifle,” said two others. “I got pistols,” said another.
“Good, good. We ain’t got much time. If dey make it across de river, we gonna have a lot more trouble. Meet back here in five minutes with guns, bullets, powder, and food. Jules, you take a horse from the livery, get word to John Parker.”
The men all moved off. Suddenly the little village was bustling. One of the women took charge to lead the women and children into the woods, into better hiding, in case the slave catchers doubled back, thinking to catch them off guard. In half an hour, the men who volunteered were back. They started following the trail. It wasn’t difficult, with all the people and dogs. The slave catchers did not attempt to hide their trail. They did not expect pursuit.
Fear and anger spurred Luther. About a hundred yards into the woods along the trail, the slave catchers had stopped. On the other side of the clearing, there was a trail of blood. There were marks showing someone being dragged. Cloth flapped in the breeze from a thorn bush. Luther looked at it—it was from Ruth’s dress!
Now Luther trotted along. The trail was easy to follow. From the sign, it looked as though the slave catchers might be an hour ahead of them. Moving so many was slower than the pace that Luther and the other men could manage in the light.
After about two miles, the blood trail seemed to stop. As he approached a clearing, Luther saw bright blue cloth at the edge. Another of the men pointed. Luther went over to it, heart pounding. Clara had worn a bright blue hair ribbon that morning. When he got closer, he screamed, “Noooo!” It was Clara’s body, torn and mangled, ripped by the dogs. She was dead. Luther bent down and scooped up her lifeless form. Her sightless eyes stared at him, bite marks on her face, blood everywhere, her dress torn. Luther sat on a log, holding and rocking her, willing her to come back to life. “My baby, my sister, what dey done to you?” he moaned. Surely, any minute now she would wake.
Sam came over. He touched Luther’s arm. “Luther. She’s gone. If you don’ want de others to be de same, we got to go. Now. I stay behind and bury her if you want, or cover her up wid rocks so we can bury her proper later. But we both know what dat slave catcher gonna do. You and de others, you got to go on. Luther?” he said shaking him gently.
Rising, Luther handed his sister’s body to Sam. “Cover her good, den come. It gonna take all of us,” he said grimly.
Sam gently took her. “I know we had some words. But I’ll take care of her. Den I’ll come. De others, dey need you to lead.”
The men huddled in the clearing. Luther moved toward them. His voice shook with emotion, his slave dialect coming back in his strength of feeling.
“All right! You see? Dey killed my sister! My little eleben year old sister! Now if dey can do dat, dey ain’t got no heart at all. Let’s go!”
Without looking back, Luther plunged on along the trail.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia read the telegram again, for the fiftieth time.
Albinia,
Miss you terribly. Cannot come. Needed here. Garrison attacked from all sides. Will you come? Answer soon. Will send bank draft. I love you. David
In twenty-five words, her world turned upside down. What should she do? She had broken with Joe. Her father was disappointed and confused at the breach. Her mother thought she must have lost her mind. They knew nothing of David. If she told them now, what would happen? If she eloped, how could she explain it? The crops were good this year, which was a blessing. Still, how would they manage without her income? What if this was all a mistake? She loved David, but she had compromised her values of honesty and integrity in so many ways since meeting him. If she refused him, their love would be at an end. She prayed. She thought. She wondered what he meant about Garrison being under attack from all sides. She went to Hobson’s store and, under the disapproving eyes of the clerk, bought several newspapers. Some were local, some further away, including The Liberator. There were stories of riots and fiery speeches for and against slavery and secession. The presidential election was drawing closer, and the rhetoric became extreme. One article in the local paper caught her eye as she scanned, and she gasped. It was in the social pages, not normally a section she looked at much. It was an engagement announcement—between Joe Breckinridge and Jenny Morton. It pained her own heart, though she did not like to think on it. Moreover, she
could not imagine what it would do to Will when he heard. She read the telegram again and made her decision. Leaving the shop, she locked up, and walked to the telegraph office. She sent a one-word answer.
✳ ✳ ✳
It was near dark when Luther heard the screams. He wanted to charge into the camp, free the captives, and kill the slave catchers, but caution told him to wait. He must not fail. Sam had not caught up with them, and Luther wondered if he’d just gone back to the village. He felt a deep, soul-wrenching pain thinking of Clara. The screams centered his attention again, on what was ahead. He knew that voice. It could only be his mother. Warning the others to silence, he whispered that they should spread out, make a half circle around the camp. When he signaled with the call of a whippoorwill, everyone with a rifle was to fire on a white man target. The rest would charge the camp, to free as many as possible, and kill any opposition. Luther fingered his “good luck knife” that he had carried with him on the road to freedom; it was sharp enough to shave a beard.
Silently, the men did as he asked. He crept closer, to where he could see.
In the center, there was a main campfire. Ned and his family were in chains, along with Olivia. A downed tree held their chains fast. Jemima had an iron collar around her neck, attached to a chain thrown over a high branch. The chain suspended her in the air, her feet barely touching the ground. The chain could be raised and lowered to increase her pain, nearly hanging her if they chose. Above her head, a small fire burned in a pan, and over that, a grill sizzled with fat and meat. Whenever her torturer raised her from the ground, she choked, and burning grease and embers fell, scorching her naked body. Her hands were bound behind her in manacles. Luther saw a branding iron heating in the campfire, waiting.
“All right, you black wench! One more time. Who helped you escape? You are sure too stupid to have done it alone. Who helped?” snarled a fat bearded white man. A black felt hat covered his brow, and a pistol was stuck in his belt. He wore a light overcoat and baggy pants. He must be strong, for when Jemima did not answer, he jerked the chain and she rose in the air, off her toes, raining burning embers down on her bare skin.
