Across the Great Divide

by Michael Ross

  One morning when the sun had barely begun to come through the windows, she heard the rattle of keys in the door. She shook herself awake, and futilely combed at her hair with her fingers, expecting another prison official.

  Instead, a guard came in. It was early for breakfast. He set the food dish on the floor as usual, as if she were a dog. He was tall, with a scraggly black beard and eyebrows that seemed scrunched together. He was wearing a nasty smile with yellow teeth. He carefully locked both doors behind him.

  “Thought you might like a little company, you bein’ alone in here so long,” he said, moving toward her.

  She jumped up and moved toward the end of the bed where the stool stood. She tried to stay calm.

  “No, thank you. Just leave the food and go.”

  “Now, now, no need to be afraid. I was just thinkin’ we could be more friendly like. Maybe I could get you that Bible you been wantin’, or some other books, educated lady like yourself. Or maybe a little better food. Might be able to find a cat to help keep the mice down some.” As he spoke, he eased toward her. He was close enough now she could smell the alcohol on his breath, above the other stenches.

  She was almost cornered. He started to reach for her. Quickly, she grabbed the stool and brought it down hard on his skull.

  He raised his arm to block her blow, but was too slow. He looked first angry and lustful, then surprised, and fell backward in a heap.

  Albinia looked around, scared. What should she do? If he came to, she would again be at his mercy. The keys were on his belt. Escape? Perhaps, but she was so weak she wouldn’t get two miles before they caught her. And where could she go? They would hunt her like an escaped slave. Get help? But what if the other guards simply took his part? Who would believe her?

  “Lord, help me! I don’t know what to do.” In that moment, she thought of Paul in prison in Phillipi, how even when the jail was opened and he could have escaped, he and Silas stayed.

  She knew she didn’t have much time. He could come out of his drunken stupor any moment. Deciding, she unhooked the keys from his belt and opened the cell doors.

  “Help!” she shouted, as loudly as she was able, standing in the doorway. “Help! Someone help!”

  After a few minutes, two other guards came.

  “He just collapsed. I didn’t know what to do,” she said, assuming her best helpless female role. “He brought the food in and just fell over.”

  One of the guards bent as if to pick him up and pulled back at the smell. “Drunk, is he? Well, the warden will want to be hearin’ about that. But say, it looks like he has a fair sized lump on the back of his head.” The other guard looked at her suspiciously.

  “He hit the floor hard,” Albinia said helpfully.

  The two guards conferred in whispers for a moment. “All right. I’ll be takin’ those keys, missy. I expect the warden will want to speak with you. Eat your breakfast before the mice do.”

  They dragged him out, locking the door, and left her to her breakfast.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  The day dragged for Albinia. She expected at any moment to be taken out of her cell and punished. Yet the sun rose high in the sky and no one came. Finally, in what was late afternoon, she judged, she again heard the keys in the lock. The steel door had been shut all day. She could not see who was coming, and dreaded that it might be the same guard, now enraged and prepared. She stood with her back to the wall and grabbed the stool again. It was a forlorn hope that she could overcome the man, if he knew she would fight, but she would go down trying.

  The door opened, and relief washed over her. It was one of the other guards, and behind him, the warden. The warden stepped into the cell.

  “Come with us, please, Mrs. Horner.”

  Albinia moved to comply, a hundred questions buzzing in her head, and no small amount of dread. The warden walked in front, the guard behind. She followed them to the warden’s office. He sat at a large oaken desk and opened a file.

  “Please be seated, Mrs. Horner. Jacobs, you can wait just outside the door.”

  The guard left, closing the office door with frosted glass in the top behind him.

  Albinia sat in the horsehair chair with arms intended for guests.

  “Mrs. Horner, you’ve been with us for some weeks now, following the unfortunate incident with one of James Clay’s slaves. I understand you’ve declined to provide additional information regarding your accomplices. The slave has likewise been less than forthcoming, despite, shall we say, significant persuasions. However, in view of your race, and your gender, as well as lack of previous recorded offenses, I’ve been inclined to extend some leniency. We don’t get many white women here that are not prostitutes, if you’ll forgive the reference.”

  He stood and paced a moment.

  “My guard tells me that you assaulted him. I understand that at the time of your arrest, you had a derringer on your person. You are familiar with violence. However, I find it difficult to believe that a woman as slight as yourself could overcome my guard without some extenuating circumstance. Then there is the fact that you had the keys, and opportunity to escape, but you did not attempt it. The guard was undeniably intoxicated on duty, making his claims less credible. This leaves me a dilemma—what to do with you, Mrs. Horner? Discipline is extremely important in this institution. Some of our inmates are quite dangerous, and without it, we would all be at risk. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Albinia respectfully. She was now hopeful that she would not be punished, but still afraid.

  “So here is what we will do: I’m moving you today. You will be placed in a cell with other women. They will all be black, I’m afraid, but given your slave-liberating tendencies, that shouldn’t trouble you, I imagine.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. In addition, I suppose I should find you some labor, since that was a part of your sentence. I don’t imagine a small woman like yourself, unaccustomed to manual labor, would be of much use on a railway gang, nor do I wish to referee the problems with male prisoners that might occur. You are not an unattractive young woman. Do bear in mind that this is an option for you, however, should there be future incidents with my guards.” He paused, waiting for a response.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There have been some letters across my desk in your favor, indicating you have some powerful political friends in the Union. Since Kentucky is still a Union state, though under siege, I am inclined to give those some weight. I understand you have some talent with a needle. Therefore, on a trial basis, you will report to my house, just beyond the prison walls, each day except the Sabbath. You will sew uniforms for the Union armies and give lessons to my children, since you seem to be decently educated. Is this agreeable to you, Mrs. Horner?”

  “Yes, sir!” Albinia replied excitedly. It was more than she had hoped.

  “Your father is in the Union army now, I understand, though your brother is regrettably with the rebels. Your father has been asking after you, and your sister as well, I believe. It is possible that a visit from one of them may happen around the holidays, if you maintain good behavior. Let me caution you that any trouble on your part and you can expect the same treatment as the worst slave offender among us. Is that clear, Mrs. Horner?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well.” He turned to the door. “Jacobs!”

  The guard came in immediately. “Yes, sir?”

  “Take this prisoner to cell block thirteen. Tomorrow, and each day after, you will escort her to my house in the morning and bring her back just before sunset.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard motioned Albinia, and he followed her. “All the way to the end of the corridor, down the stairs two flights, and left. No funny business.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  December 1861

  Julia knew that before she tried to gain information from Confederates, she must not alienate those she knew on the Union side, if she was to help her sister. Accordingly, she wrote to the gov
ernor and prison officials in her husband’s name, showing his unit of service, and citing their company’s service to the Union. Now that Magoffin resigned as governor, she felt she had a better chance with Robinson, who opposed the Fugitive Slave Law and the war. She hoped to affect Albinia’s release, but barring that, she was working on a plan to help her escape. Since her company no longer carried slaves, and attempted to be neutral, Julia felt she might legitimately appeal to government authorities to let her sister go. If it didn’t work, she was prepared to take action.

  On December 23, she journeyed to Frankfort, to the prison, to see Albinia. The prison told her to go to a small frame house near the prison where Albinia was teaching, as this would be more suitable for a visitor. She found her sister surrounded by three laughing children.

  “Well, this is surprise! I expected to see you in much more miserable conditions than this.”

  Albinia looked up with surprise and joy. She dropped the books she was holding and rushed over to hug Julia. When she recovered, she turned back to the children.

  “Annie, why don’t you take the other children to the back room and draw for a while, so I can talk to my sister?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Horner.”

  After the children departed, Albinia seated herself in the parlor with Julia.

  “I suppose it is a surprise. I can’t quite believe it myself. Still, you should see the cell where I spend the night.” She shivered, as if thinking of it. “Every morning they bring me over here, though I don’t suppose they will for Christmas. Every evening I go back. Mornings I teach, afternoons I sew. It could be much worse. What’s the family news, and Hiram?”

  Perfect, thought Julia. “Hiram is doing well, learning about soldiering with his company. They are actually in Kentucky now, Elizabethtown, for the winter. And you’ll never guess who’s with him—Luther!”

  Albinia was startled. “Luther? But how? I thought he’d escaped.”

  “He did—to Canada, even. But he’s come back to fight the rebels. Hiram says he’s mad that they won’t let him be a soldier. But he’s learned blacksmithing, and makes himself very useful to Hiram’s regiment. They’ve seen a few battles, but nothing very major.”

  “What else?”

  “Pa has joined the 19th Kentucky infantry, formed by Will’s old boss, Hobson the storekeeper. He says he’ll come if he can. I’m expecting him anytime, as long as he gets leave.”

  “Who’s keeping the farm?”

  “Ma, as best she can. Lyddie is big enough to follow behind and stick seeds in the ground now. I’ve asked Ma to leave it, come to Cincinnati, but so far she won’t. Says she’ll be there when Pa comes home. Everyone thinks the war will be over soon.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve heard that for months.”

  Julia leaned toward her sister and whispered, “Is it safe to talk here?”

  Albinia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Yes, I suppose so. Why?”

  “Pa and I—we want to get you out of here. I’ve been writing everyone I can think of. Hiram’s family has a lot of influence. And I hear Garrison is championing your cause as well, pointing to you as another victim of slavery. But in case that doesn’t work, we want to help you escape.”

  Albinia looked shocked. “You can’t! What if you were caught?”

  Julia shrugged. “A chance we may have to take. But I don’t think so. You must know some places to hide. We could get you to a steamboat, land in Illinois or Ohio. With the war on, they’d never bother to look for you up north. We can’t just leave you in jail.”

  Albinia considered. “I’ll admit I’d like to be free. But it’s too dangerous, too much risk. God is with me. I’ll survive this place. Let it go.”

  “At least promise me you’ll think about it. We have a plan. If the governor doesn’t pardon you by Christmas, be ready.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Back in her cell in the evening, Albinia tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable. This cell was about twelve feet square, with three beds that folded up to the wall, a chamber pot, and a stove. It was dark and damp in the basement, and had three other women in the cell. The stove did have coal, producing enough warmth to take the chill and dampness out of the air. The prison allocated them one scoop of coal per day—if it ran out, they froze. By its feeble light, she could barely make out the face and form of the others. One, called May, was about fifteen, slender, tall, and quiet. She seemed lost and discouraged. Another, called Polly, was short and plump, seemed about forty, and told endless stories of “her boys” who were “sold down south.” The third, just called Old Molly, was a huge woman, about six inches taller than Albinia, and looked over two hundred pounds. On her first night in the cell, Polly advised Albinia to “steer clear” of Old Molly, that she could be mean.

  As the newcomer, Albinia had no bed, and her “place” was the corner near the cold outside wall—where the rats came from. She managed to take some scrap cloth from her sewing and cobble together a rough wool blanket. She lay on the floor, trying to rest until supper came.

  The jailer opened the door and put four wooden bowls inside on the floor, carefully watching Old Molly all the time, then locking the door and retreating hurriedly. Albinia roused herself, going over to retrieve her porridge with weevils in it. As she stooped to lift the bowl, Molly put a big foot on her arm, pinning it to the floor.

  “I’m a little extra hungry tonight, white lady. I ‘spec you had good meals all your life. Not me. My Massa eat off china and silver, but we hardly got the slop from the hogs. Think I’ll just make up for it, eat your bowl too.” She quickly grabbed Albinia’s other arm and twisted it behind her back, wrenching her shoulder. “You ain’t gonna object none, are ya honey? ‘Cause I’d hate to break this pretty arm, like Massa broke mine when I was eight.” She released Albinia’s arm and stepped back with two bowls in her hands.

  “C’mon, leave her be,” said Polly. “She ain’t done you no wrong. I hear she got in here for helpin’ slaves like us.”

  Molly set the bowls on her bed and turned toward Polly threateningly. “So, you ain’t hungry neither, huh? And maybe you need some teeth knocked out, to learn not to interfere with your betters.” Molly took a step toward her and Polly cringed, arms protecting her face. Molly just laughed.

  Albinia, recovered by this time, started to get up, saying, “No one means you harm, Molly. Not in here. Leave her alone.”

  For answer, Molly turned and kicked Albinia’s ribs as she was attempting to get up. The kick slammed her head against the stone wall, and she had no breath. Her ribs instantly ached, and she wondered if one was broken. Blood trickled down her temple.

  “High and mighty white woman. In here, you don’t tell nobody what to do, you hear? You just stay in your corner, keep your white mouth shut, and your eyes down, like y’all tell us slaves to do. If you do that, I might let you live, and not hit you more than once a week.”

  Albinia stood, determined not to show fear. Molly moved toward her, ripping her blanket from her grasp.

  “I think I’ll stay warm tonight. You can cuddle with the rats. Ol’ Ferdinand, the big plump black one, he’s my favorite. You can have him tonight.”

  Molly laughed again, and sat down to eat both bowls of food.

  Albinia painfully crept to her corner, lay down, and prayed, crying softly. She regretted her easy confidence of the afternoon. Would she survive this? Where was God when she needed Him?

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Christmas 1861

  Christmas did not seem real for Will. It was extremely cold, and he was far from home. No stockings hung over a fireplace. He had no family around him. He and Archie had worked hard the last two days to build log base and wooden platform into a small hill, covering it with their canvas tent and making a small stone fireplace surrounded by earth. Since they were unlikely to move camp for some weeks yet, it seemed worth the effort. Camp life settled into a dull routine of drill, eating, and trying to stay healthy and warm. Many in camp were sick. They all had lice,
and stank. Some played cards and gambled. There was a Christmas service early in the day, but rather than giving a message on the hope for mankind represented in the birth of Christ, the minister, a colonel, went on about how God would give them victory over the Federals in the days to come.

  “What do you think your family’s doing about now?” asked Will.

  “Aw, same as usual,” opined Archie. “My pa ain’t very religious. He’ll prob’ly go to Mass, but he’ll still feed the hogs and work like a reg’lar day. No money to spend on fool gifts, he says. What about yours?”

  “I don’t know what Ma and Lyddie will do. There’s never been a Christmas like this. Pa’s off in some Federal camp, just like us. My sister Albinia’s in prison, the letter said, for helping slaves escape, and mourning her lost husband. Maybe Ma and Lyddie will go to her brother’s, but with the war on, she probably wouldn’t think that was safe. Hiram’s off in a Federal camp too. Julia will probably be with Hiram’s family, in a fancy house with lots of presents—but from what she says, not much love in the family there. How is your pa not in the fighting?”

  “He got kicked by a steer a few years back, gave him problems with his leg, and dizzy spells. Don’t think any army would want him when he might suddenly go all dizzy and shoot the wrong side. He still farms well enough, just rests when one of the spells comes.”

  “Tom’s all sick. I’m gonna make him some dogwood bark tea, like a doctor did for me a while back. Don’t seem like the doctors in this bunch know much about how to fix the quickstep.i”

  “That so? I’ll have to remember that. ‘Course ain’t always a dogwood tree handy.”

  “There’s some about camp here I saw. As good a way to celebrate Christmas as any, I expect, helping a friend.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  December 26, 1861

  Robert and Julia hid behind bushes and trees along the path from the prison to the warden’s house. Robert got furlough to visit his daughter in prison, with orders to return in two weeks. Colonel Hobson remembered Albinia and was sympathetic to her plight.