Across the Great Divide

by Michael Ross

  Then the meal was ready. Albinia listened appreciatively while Peter returned grace. The children, still not quite used to getting enough to eat, gave lavish thanks to Melinda for her cooking, which made a broad smile. After the meal, Moses and Patty arrived. Melinda made room for them, serving dessert and coffee. They shared more of their journey up from Alabama, including some close escapes. When they left with the children and Melinda was cleaning up, Peter proposed a walk.

  “Are you sure? It’s bound to be freezing out there,” said Albinia.

  “Well, if you’d rather not….”

  “No, no, it’s all right.”

  “Outdoors, I just feel closer to God when I see the stars. It’s good for me. Sometimes I start focusing on how my world is instead of how big God is. Keeps me in my place. And thankful for my fire,” he smiled.

  “Yes, somehow, the world seems more at peace at night,” she agreed.

  “Peter? Can I ask you something?”

  “Delving into my deep dark secrets, eh? Sure.”

  “Why did you choose the ministry? And why aren’t you in the war fighting?”

  “Well, I chose the ministry because I can’t imagine living a single day without God’s help. I see Him as my creator and father. I started down the wrong path as a boy, but I started seeing bad results—lying, stealing, eventually drinking. I knew then I didn’t want to go that way, and I needed Jesus as my savior. I still get excited about introducing Him to other people. But I don’t want my faith to be some lofty thing that’s not practical. I think Jesus was more radical about love than most people imagine, and wants us to live it out, regardless of the cost. As to the war, I come from Pennsylvania, and Quaker roots. I’m not as against violence as some of them are—I think you should be able to defend yourself or another person from a direct threat. I won’t go along with shooting someone because a general gave orders. I’m glad there are those that want to defend our country—but I’m more inclined to let them and let God work it out. I believe it when the Bible says, ‘So far as it depends upon you, live at peace with all men.’ I try to love people no matter how they treat me. There are usually other ways to solve problems than violence. But at the same time, I won’t tolerate someone abusing or hurting people. Does that make any sense?”

  Albinia absorbed this thoughtfully. “Yes, I think so. It’s mostly what I’ve done.”

  “How about you? What got you into the Underground Railroad?”

  “I just woke up and saw how slaves are really treated. I heard Mr. Garrison talk and show how the Bible said slavery was evil. People thought I was crazy, once they knew, especially after prison. My parents weren’t thrilled. They never would have approved of David. But like you, I don’t think faith is just for Sundays—if it doesn’t change what you do, it isn’t real faith.”

  They reached a pond on the path. A willow tree waved in the slight breeze, and Albinia had to acknowledge she was getting cold. The full moon filled the night with bright soft light. They stopped, turned to face each other, and it seemed natural to take his hands in hers. She looked up at him, and the smile was in his eyes as well as on his lips. She could see the question in his eyes, and she tilted her head back, closing her eyes. He kissed her, at first tentatively, but when she responded, he took her in his arms and kissed her again with more passion, leaving her breathless. A hundred feelings and thoughts went through her brain, her body responding and tingling. She felt slightly guilty, both for kissing a man not her husband, and for David. She also felt deliciously alive, not wanting the moment to end. They moved apart, and she laughed to break the tension. “I’d better get home or I’m going to have some more confessing to do,” she said, smiling. “I don’t want to harm the reputation of my favorite minister.”

  Peter laughed, but then his brow furrowed with worry. “But Albinia, it’s nearly midnight. Can’t you just stay with Melinda? I’d worry about you going home this late.”

  They started walking back up the path to the parsonage. “Peter, you know that’s not good for you. It was one thing when I was new here. As many times as I’ve been to church, stayed for dinner, and spent time at your house, people will start to talk if they see me come in the evening and leave in the morning. The Bible says to avoid even the appearance of evil—I don’t have to tell you that.”

  “But it’s freezing. What if you hit a rock and broke a tire? No one would find you until morning.”

  Albinia smiled, “Really, I appreciate your concern. I know how to drive a horse—there’s a full moon and I have a lantern. I’ve been building fires since I was six. I have extra blankets in the wagon, and I have my ‘friends’ with me. I’ve driven hundreds of miles in the dark for the Railroad. Besides, my horse would walk home even if I fell asleep—Chester’s done it that many times. So quit worrying and get some sleep. It’s been a lovely evening.”

  Peter stopped her and held her hands again, looking serious, “I’ve enjoyed it more than I can say. I hope it’s the first of many.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Albinia found that Melinda had reheated her bricks for her feet and made a jar of hot tea with honey as well. She mounted the wagon and began her drive, her mind wandering agreeably over the day. She pushed away too many thoughts of what the future might hold. She wanted to hold onto the moments—watching Peter preach, watching how he handled opposition integrating the school with the races, playing with the children, and that exquisite kiss. She had loved David, but she had to admit she was tired of being alone, and had no wish for people to pity her as a widow and a spinster. David wasn’t coming back, and filling herself with those memories and grief wouldn’t help. Maybe Mabel was right—it was time.

  She kept looking at the moon, woolgathering and imagining the most contented sort of thoughts. She looked up ahead, nearing her home, and saw something bright. The slight breeze brought a new smell—smoke! Chester pranced a little nervously, and then settled back into pulling the wagon. Albinia slapped the reins to hurry him on, and they increased to a fast trot. Now she could see flames dancing in the night. Fear gripped her heart—what could have happened? Mabel wasn’t one to be careless with fire.

  As she pulled into the barnyard, Mabel jumped up and waved her back. “Go back! It’s a trap!”

  She heard the warning as a shot rang out, hitting the earth at Chester’s feet, causing him to rear. Albinia grabbed the short shotgun and scrambled over the wagon seat into the back of the wagon, hearing her dress rip. A petticoat snagged on the seat, and while she tried to free it, another shot hit the seat where she had been seconds before. From the sound, the shots were coming from off to the right, up the road toward Madison. She couldn’t see an assailant, and only had short-range weapons. Just as she freed the petticoat, another shot came, this time hitting the side of the wagon. Chester had enough, and bolted toward the barn, causing her to lose her balance and fall flat into the wagon bed. The shotgun flew out of her grasp onto the ground behind the moving wagon. Another bullet passed overhead, which probably would have hit her if she had remained standing. She felt helpless. She peered out a knothole in the side of the wagon and saw horsemen approaching, probably to see if she was dead. She prayed, “God help me!” She let them approach, remembering her derringer. If she played dead, they’d have to get close enough for her to use it. Chester was standing at the barn door, neighing and pawing. No telling what he might do as the other horses approached.

  As the horsemen drew nearer, she heard galloping hoofbeats from the road north, back toward Lancaster. She didn’t dare look over the edge of the wagon, but supposed someone else had arrived, friend or foe, she did not know. Now she could see her assailants wore black hoods. They were surprised at the new arrival, pausing. She moved closer to her knothole and saw one of them raise a pistol, aimed at—Peter! Peter quickly drew a revolver and began firing. One of the hooded men pitched backward as a shot hit him in the stomach, and another hit one of the hooded men’s horses. The other two horses were frightened, wheeling around,
causing the shots from the hooded men to go wild as Peter quickly dismounted and took cover behind a rain barrel. Albinia took courage, looked over the edge of the wagon, and fired one of the horsemen. She didn’t think she hit anyone, but the men turned wildly and fled, leaving their fallen comrade. His black hood covered his face, with eyeholes cut out to see. She stood and jumped from the rear of the wagon, ignoring the damage to her dress. From behind the rain barrel Peter stood, and she rushed to him. He gathered her in his arms, quieting her. Then they turned, Peter to the man on the ground, and Albinia to Mabel. Mabel sat on the ground, next to a fallen Franklin, sobbing soundlessly. The house continued to burn. She turned and looked up at Albinia.

  “They’ve killed him this time. My poor brave Franklin. They’ve killed him.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  In the gray light of dawn, Peter and Albinia assessed the damage. The house was about half standing, but would require extensive repair to be livable. She had unharnessed Chester and let him loose in the corral. The barn and corral were undamaged.

  Mabel was inconsolable. They helped her to the inn nearby, where Albinia had stayed when she first came to Madison. Peter promised to take care of Franklin’s body and the body of the hooded man. Peter said little but looked grim. He insisted that Albinia come with him to the sheriff—he didn’t want to leave her alone.

  “I’m glad you were here,” said Albinia. “But why?”

  “I was worried about you coming back at that hour alone. You told me about the note from the Golden Circle. Since you were being stubborn, I thought I’d follow behind, just out of sight. Albinia, this has to stop. I want you to seriously consider whether to rebuild here or just move up to Lancaster, where you have some protection.”

  “I’ll pray about it. I must admit, having this happen again and losing Franklin scares me. The sheriff didn’t know the man—no one seems to. I’ve certainly never seen him before. Why would someone do this to a person who has never wronged them?”

  Peter pursed his mouth then replied, “You haven’t seen the levels of hate that some people have. They don’t need a reason beyond that you are different. Your skin, your religion, the fact that you challenge their beliefs and way of life. Sometimes, there isn’t even that much reason—they just have hate eating them because of things that have happened in their lives. You and I, helping the Negroes, makes us a target. I’ll regret having to shoot that man to my last day—but when hate overflows and threatens life, you meet it with force. In any case, I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here. They hit you on the other side of the river before they came here—they’ll be back if you try again. They’ve shown willingness to kill—what happens if I’m not here the next time? They certainly would have killed you.”

  They held the funeral for Franklin a few days later. Albinia decided Peter was right and looked for a place she could rent in Lancaster. She would have to give up most of her Underground Railroad activities, but she could still teach the children. It would eliminate the long, dangerous drives, and be closer to Peter—that was a happy prospect. Mabel decided to go to her sister’s in Connecticut for the time being, until she determined what else to do.

  “You take care of yourself, Mrs. Horner. Don’t go messin’ with those Golden Circle people!”

  “I won’t. I think I’ve learned my lesson. There are other ways to help the Negroes. Besides, with the Emancipation, I think most of the Negroes will be free soon. And here’s something to help out until you settle,” said Albinia, pushing a small bag of money into her hand.

  “Bless you, Mrs. Horner!”

  They hugged and parted.

  Albinia spent the next two weeks cleaning up at the farm. She figured whether she kept the farm or not, it needed work, even if just to sell it. Peter got help from the Georgetown community to watch over her.

  A new arrival in the community surprised Albinia—Ned Smith and his family, the blacksmith who trained Luther. Albinia knew of them through John Parker and her connections in the Underground Railroad. They had no news of Luther, however. Albinia liked Ruth immediately. Ruth began helping her with teaching children to read.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Soon it was the end of November. Albinia was worn out from the last two weeks, but filled with excitement. Peter told her to come to Lancaster for her birthday, December 1. What was the surprise Peter had planned?

  She woke up in her boarding house, and dressed carefully with one of the few good dresses she salvaged from the house. She would have to sew more soon. Peter told her to come after breakfast.

  Arriving at the parsonage she opened the door, and nearly dropped her reticule in surprise—Lydia came rushing to her and jumped into her arms! Her mother and father sat in chairs by the fireplace—and another person Albinia did not know stood nearby—a tall beautiful blonde woman, plainly dressed, but with a perfect figure and exquisite features.

  She carried Lydia to a chair, listening to her sister babble on, but wondering who the stranger was. Peter came from the kitchen, where he’d been helping Melinda prepare coffee and rolls for the guests.

  After everyone exchanged hugs, Sara exclaimed, “It’s so good to see you! Tell us everything.”

  Albinia related a short version of her story, but then said, “Pa, your foot—tell me what happened.”

  Robert looked at the stump that used to be his foot and said, “Let’s talk about happier things. Miss King here was just telling us about her journey from Pennsylvania when you came in.”

  Peter said, “Where are my manners? Albinia, this is Miss Mary King from Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, an old friend. Mary, this is Mrs. Albinia Horner, a good friend and neighbor—and you’ve met her parents, Robert and Sara Crump, and her sister Lydia. Mary has come west with her family, getting away from the war. They are Quakers, members of the Society of Friends.”

  Mary looked to be about twenty. The part about being an old friend bothered Albinia. She didn’t want to be jealous, but couldn’t help wondering what kind of friend, given her easy manner with Peter. Surely, Peter wouldn’t trifle with her in that way. However, how could he have known that Mary would show up? Albinia decided to relax and enjoy time with her family, obviously the surprise Peter intended.

  “I’m delighted to see you all, but what brings you here?”

  “Well, we had our own trouble down in Kentucky. Similar to yours. Because I was in the Union army, slaveholders came and burned the farm while I was away. We decided it wasn’t safe with your ma being alone on the farm so much, so we’re looking to move north. Guess we might have to hire some hands for help and security here too. Or we might keep going further west, now that the land is open out there,” said her father.

  “What about your foot? Pa, please!” Albinia wanted to know.

  “Not much to tell. At the Battle of Cumberland Gap back in June, took a minie ball in the foot. Bone shattered, not much for it but to cut it off. I won’t run, but I get around all right.”

  “I’m glad Pa is home!” piped up Lydia.

  Robert gathered her up, smiling. “So am I, Lyddie, so am I. So what do you say, Binia? You got room for us for a while till we decide what to do?”

  “Well … I was sort of planning to sell the farm and move up here due to safety concerns. They killed Franklin—I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen to you. And the house isn’t in good shape.”

  “I understand—but I think if we bring some more people out to Lonesome Hollow, maybe get the beginnings of a little village, we could make a stand. They can’t fight all of us. I’m hoping to open a general store, become more of a storekeeper now that farming is harder. What if we got some of the folks from Georgetown to come out, let ‘em garden a few acres, make another little town?”

  “Well, I know one family just arrived—they might come. But Pa, they’re all black. Wouldn’t that just make us more of a target?”

  “Folks got to get used to black folks bein’ like anyone else. If we have enough guns and try to find out who’s
behind the trouble, get’em to realize we mean no harm if left alone, I think we could do it. Maybe white and black living’ side by side. You game to try?”

  “All right, Pa. I’ll talk to people. Maybe I could open my own dress shop and still work with the children here.”

  “Some of the men here might be willing to come down,” said Peter. “We’re mostly a way station for them heading somewhere else. But you’ll need to set nightly guards—some of the Knights mean business.”

  “We could do that. I know how to train men for military duty now. Got one piece of bad news for you. The Clays. Seems folks thought James Clay was gonna betray the Union, and they wanted to arrest him again—so he ran off to Canada. They actually had a battle at Ashland I heard. Then just this month, three of the children died—one was your friend Lucy. Some kind of sickness. I’m sorry; I know you two were good friends.”

  Albinia gasped, then recovered. “We were. I came to realize that our different classes and views on slavery were more of a division than I had thought. I helped her slave Luther to freedom, and they never forgave me for that. Now I suppose it’s too late to heal that breach.”

  Mary said, “I’m sorry to hear you lost a friend. Perhaps … we can be friends. Though I don’t know yet what Father will decide about staying here.”

  Albinia turned to her, surprised. “Yes, that would be nice. Perhaps you can tell me some stories about Peter that I don’t know,” she teased, glancing at him.

  “That shouldn’t be hard,” Mary said, smiling. “We grew up together. He’s like a brother.”