by Aileen Fish
Anna, though, accepted the challenge.
“And where do they live, Mr. Damon? Are you from Iowa?”
Mr. Damon kept his attention on the baby.
“No, Miss Douglas, I am not originally from Iowa.”
She suppressed a sigh. She would have the truth from him.
“Where are you from then, Mr. Damon?”
“From the South, Miss Douglas,” he said. “From Missouri. My family owns a hemp plantation.”
Anna watched as Suzy stiffened. Sally’s smile dropped, and she looked as if she wished to snatch the baby away.
“Oh!” Anna said with a sharp intake of breath. Few people owned plantations in the South without the use of slaves. “I...I... Forgive me for prying.” She looked to Mrs. Brickman, who made a clucking noise—whether to censure her for pestering Mr. Damon, or from distress that his family undoubtedly owned slaves, Anna did not know.
“I prefer to use hired hands to farm corn, Miss Douglas. That is why my siblings live in Missouri and I do not.”
He handed the baby back to Sally and stood up restlessly. “We should leave,” he said, “if we are to reach Dubuque before morning.”
Anna swallowed the rest of her sandwich and rose. She excused herself quickly and attended to the needs of nature before returning to the wagon. Following a quick wash of her hands and face, she jumped into the wagon as Mr. Damon saddled his horse.
Mrs. Brickman had already seen Suzy, Sally and the baby into the back of the wagon and covered them with the blankets. Fortunately, the night promised to be cool, so they would not overheat.
Without further word, Mr. Damon climbed onto his horse, and they set off on the little-used road toward Dubuque.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Brickman,” Anna said with a frown.
“I know you are, my dear. You have already apologized to Mr. Damon, however, and you have done nothing to offend me. It is no wonder Mr. Damon attempted to circumvent any discussion of his origins.”
“I cannot understand Mr. Damon. He stated he had no opinion on the matter of slavery other than he despised slave catchers. And yet he has grown up in the institution all of his life. He intimated that his family owned slaves, and I believe that most plantations in the South use slave labor. He is not an abolitionist, so why does he help us?”
“No matter what his background, Anna—his upbringing, his family’s way of life—he does appear to be an honorable man, and I think that is the reason he is helping us. I do not know whether he despises the institution of slavery or the use of slave catchers to apprehend escaped slaves, or whether he simply could not allow four women and an infant to travel a good distance without assistance.”
Anna studied his tall, straight back.
“Yes, he does appear to be honorable,” Anna said. “Almost heroic.”
“Heroic, is it?” Mrs. Brickman chuckled. “If I did not know better, Anna, I would think you held Mr. Damon in some affection. That would be a most providential day!”
Anna snorted in an unladylike sound. She turned a raised eyebrow to the housekeeper.
“Admiring and loving are two different things, Mrs. Brickman, as well you know. Do not seek to marry me off just yet. In fact, I imagine I will most likely become a spinster.”
Mrs. Brickman sighed.
“I sincerely hope not, my dear. Though I was married and widowed quite young, I have long felt like a spinster, since we had no children. I hope you find a loving husband and have a houseful of children that your father can dote upon.”
They fell silent, both of them watching Mr. Damon as he led the wagon. The night stretched on without incident. They paused twice to rest Blackie and to fortify themselves with food and water. Then they continued.
A twinkling of lights in the distance caught her eye, and she knew they neared the outskirts of Dubuque. Mr. Damon looked over his shoulder and silently pointed to the lights. Anna nodded.
The closer they moved, the brighter and more populated the lights became. Mr. Damon halted his horse and dismounted, coming to Anna’s side.
“As you have probably guessed, we approach the city.”
Anna nodded. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment.
“Mr. Damon, I can find our address alone from here. Although I made this journey with my father several years ago, I did not remember the best way to get to our destination, but Father made me memorize the directions. We need not trouble you further. Thank you so very much for all you have done for us,” Anna said.
Mrs. Brickman drew in a sharp breath, signifying her disapproval of Anna’s words.
“Having accompanied you all this way, Miss Douglas, I do not intend to abandon you now. You are no safer here than you were in Anamosa. There are slave catchers everywhere, and those who seek to profit from the return of escaped slaves. No, I will see you through to the station.”
Anna, relief flooding through her at the prospect of his continued presence, acquiesced quickly.
“Thank you. I believe I can trust you to say that the stationmaster in Dubuque is Mr. Carter. He owns the River Inn. My father made me memorize the address,” she said. “I was there once two years ago but did not remember the way.”
“Good,” Mr. Damon said. “I know the way.” He turned away to head for his horse.
“But the address!” Anna called out to his back. He stopped and turned around.
“I know the address, Miss Douglas.”
Anna watched him mount his horse, her jaw slack.
“For a man who does not support abolition, he certainly seems to know a great deal about the network,” Mrs. Brickman said.
Anna gave the reins a compulsory shake though Blackie continued to follow Mr. Damon’s stallion like a foal would follow its mother.
“Mr. Damon is a mystery,” Anna fumed. “A mystifying mystery, an enigma, a man of many secrets.”
“Yes, you said that, my dear,” Mrs. Brickman said.
“How does one trust the scion of a Southern hemp plantation with the address of a station on the Underground Railroad?”
“I do not know. Is there any chance your father gave him the address, perhaps after you left?”
Anna shook her head. “I do not know how. Mr. Damon did not say that he had returned to visit Father. My father is far too trusting,” she said, inexplicably angry with Mr. Damon. “What if Mr. Damon had been a slave catcher, yet presented himself as a sympathizer in order to obtain the address of the station in Dubuque?”
“Anna, your father is far too experienced for that to happen. He appears very trusting, but is in truth, not. You are the same. It was inevitable, growing up as you have under the specter of secrecy.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Anna said with a sigh.
Anna turned her attention to following Mr. Damon along the periphery of Dubuque. She did not know the time but thought it must be an hour or so before dawn. The darkness of the night lightened almost imperceptibly.
They turned left into the town and drove slowly along quiet city streets, so quiet Anna thought she must hold her breath, though Blackie’s hooves plodded on through the hard-packed dirt streets. Houses flanked both sides of the street. All windows were dark at this hour.
Mr. Damon came to a stop in front of one brick building, and Anna recognized it as the River Inn. She remembered that it was close to the Mississippi River—hence, the name.
Mr. Damon dismounted and brought his stallion to the wagon to tie it.
“I will go inquire in case anything is amiss,” he said.
Anna began to climb down from the wagon.
“No, Miss Douglas. Please stay here. I cannot guarantee your safety.”
Mr. Damon could do nothing, though, but offer her his hand.
Anna hopped down onto the road.
“I am the one who has met Mr. Carter. I think I should greet him.”
She nodded firmly and rounded the back of the wagon to step onto the walkway leading to the inn. Mr. Damon followed. She could not see his expr
ession very well in the darkness, but she knew he was not pleased.
She knocked lightly on the wooden door, hoping that she was not about to awaken all Mr. Carter’s guests. A few moments passed, and she looked up at Mr. Damon again.
“Do you think anyone is here? We were not expected. Father did not have time to send word of the delivery to Mr. Carter.”
Dr. Damon stood back from the doorway and looked up toward the second floor. Anna mimicked him.
A lamp had been lit in an upper room. She drew a deep breath and held it in as she awaited the opening of the door.
Mr. Carter, wrapped in a robe, peered out.
“Miss Douglas!” he whispered with a look over his shoulder. “Mr. Damon! What do you have for me?”
Chapter 6
Anna almost gasped at Mr. Carter’s use of Mr. Damon’s name, but she had no time to wonder at the implications.
“We have three bundles, one of them very, very small,” she said. “We could not apprise you of the delivery, as certain undesirable elements appeared in town and are watching my father. The other conductor was away from home.”
He looked over their shoulders toward the wagon before speaking.
“You had best take the wagon around to the stables in back,” he said. “I will awaken Mrs. Carter. At the moment, we have several gentlemen staying with us, and I would not wish to awaken them or alert them in any way.”
Anna nodded, and she and Mr. Damon turned for the wagon. As they approached, Anna could hear Sara crying, and she winced. Sara had been such a good baby throughout the journey that it was no wonder she needed to sing out. Mr. Damon helped Anna into the wagon and then untied his horse and led them to the back of the inn.
“We are to drive around to the stables in the back of the inn,” Anna said to Mrs. Brickman. “Mr. Carter states he has some guests.”
“I wondered if that would be the case,” Mrs. Brickman said. “Where will he house the women, do you know?”
“He showed us the last time Father and I were here. He has an attic with several small beds. I think they will be quite comfortable there.”
They reached the stables, and Anna climbed down without assistance as Mr. Damon helped Mrs. Brickman. Anna began to unhitch Blackie from his harness, but Mr. Damon stopped her.
“I will tend to the horses and the wagon, Miss Douglas. Take them inside.” He gestured toward the women in the back of the wagon.
She nodded and turned to help Suzy and Sally descend. The baby still whimpered a bit but grew quiet as her mother soothed her.
Anna looked up at the windows of the second floor of the inn, but all were thankfully dark. They had not awakened the guests, it would seem.
Mr. Carter beckoned to them from the back door, and they moved in that direction with Anna in the lead. A plump woman, wearing a lace cap and robe over her nightclothes, beamed.
“Mrs. Carter,” Anna said in a whisper. “It is good to see you.”
“Come in. Come in! Oh, Mr. Carter, you did not tell me there was a baby!”
They filed into the large kitchen, where Mrs. Carter cooed over the baby.
“That is a small bundle,” Mr. Carter said with a dubious look at Sara. “I hope she is not too loud.”
“I understand your concerns, Mr. Carter, but Sara is an angel, and the quietest baby you will ever meet,” Anna said. “Mind you, she does cry on occasion, but she is easily soothed.”
“I am sure the babe will be just fine,” said Mrs. Carter with a broad smile. “And I heard that Mr. Damon is with you?” She looked beyond them to the open door.
“He is settling the horses and putting them away in the stables,” Anna said.
Mrs. Brickman looked sideways at her, and Anna shook her head for the moment. Quite clearly, Mr. Damon was known at the inn, and Anna wanted to know why.
“I will take the girls upstairs before our guests awaken,” Mrs. Carter said, “and then I will return and prepare breakfast for everyone. Come along, ladies.” Mrs. Carter ushered them out of the kitchen. Anna knew she took them up the stairs just off the front entrance hall to the attic on the third floor.
Anna untied her bonnet and her cloak, removing both. Mrs. Brickman followed suit. They laid their outer clothing on a bench by the back door.
“Mrs. Carter has set some water on to boil for tea,” Mr. Carter said. “I will just go see how Mr. Damon is coming along and return in a few minutes.”
Mr. Carter discarded his slippers and thrust his feet into a pair of mud-caked boots by the back door. He closed the door behind him, and Anna looked at Mrs. Brickman.
“It seems that Mr. Damon is well known to this inn,” she said with a quirk of an eyebrow.
“Yes, it would seem so,” Mrs. Brickman responded. “As you said, Mr. Damon is indeed a man of many mysteries. Has business taken him to Dubuque often or—”
She stopped short as Mr. Carter reentered through the back door and divested himself of his boots.
“Mr. Damon says he will be in momentarily,” he said. He moved to the stove to take the kettle off the burner.
“Would you like some tea?” he asked.
“Yes, I would,” Anna said. “Mr. Carter, how is it that you know Mr. Damon?”
He turned and looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Mr. Damon is our neighbor in Anamosa. New to the area, I have met him not more than several times. I wondered how it is that you know him. So far as I know, he is not involved in the Underground Railroad.”
Mr. Carter’s eyes widened, and he looked over his shoulder quickly before putting a finger to his lips.
“We do not use that term in this house, Miss Douglas. It is not safe.”
Chastened, Anna knew he was right. It was likely that there were often people staying at the inn who were not abolition sympathizers, and might in fact inform on Mr. and Mrs. Carter if they felt there was aught to gain from it.
“I am sorry. You are right, of course. How foolish of me,” she said in a low voice. “Nevertheless, I do wonder how you came to know Mr. Damon.”
The door opened then, and Mr. Damon entered. Mr. Carter most conveniently forgot Anna’s question.
“Is all settled then?” he asked Mr. Damon. Mr. Damon removed his hat and greatcoat and nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He carried their bags, hamper and the blankets from the wagon, and he set them down on the floor by the door, the blankets now neatly folded and stowed on top of the hamper.
“Thank you so much for bringing our things in, Mr. Damon. Was Blackie pleased to find food?” Anna asked with a smile.
“Yes, most pleased,” Mr. Damon responded, his face softening as he looked at her.
Anna’s cheeks heated, and she turned away. She took a seat at the well-used but still-polished large oak table dominating the kitchen.
Mr. Damon pulled out a chair for Mrs. Brickman and then seated himself across from Anna. Anna had to look past Mr. Damon to watch Mr. Carter preparing cups of tea, and she tried without success to avoid staring at her neighbor.
In the lamplight of the kitchen, she saw him for the first time without his hat. Thick dark wavy hair, the color of chocolate, framed his face and curled over his ears, ending just below the top of his collar.
Blue eyes regarded her steadily, and her cheeks flamed.
Mrs. Carter returned and ended the moment as she placed a hand on Mr. Damon’s shoulder and patted him like an old friend. She had donned a dress, devoid of crinolines. Her gray hair hung in a careless braid down her back.
“Is everything set in the stables?” she asked. She did not wait for the answer as she moved to help Mr. Carter. She grabbed an apron from a hook on the wall and tied it around her waist.
“Here, dear, let me take care of that.” She poured out the tea and set it in front of everyone before setting two additional cups on a tray.
“Would you be a dear and take this tray up to the girls, Mr. Carter?”
“I can do that, Mr. Carter,” Anna said, half rising, but Mrs. Car
ter stayed her.
“No, my dear, you have had a long journey. Sit down. Mr. Carter can take the tray. How is your father? We have not seen him in some time.” Mr. Carter disappeared with the tray, and Mrs. Carter busied herself with pots and pans, and Anna relaxed in the warmth of the kitchen and hot tea.
“He is very well, thank you, Mrs. Carter. I do not think you have met our housekeeper, Mrs. Brickman. Mrs. Brickman has been with us for as long as I can remember.”
Mrs. Carter nodded.
“It is nice to meet you, Mrs. Brickman. Forgive my disheveled appearance, but I did want to return quickly to prepare something for you all to eat. I know you must be hungry.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Brickman replied with a smile. “It is lovely to meet you too.”
“Mr. Douglas speaks very highly of you,” Mrs. Carter said. “Very highly.” She cooked as she spoke and did not see Mrs. Brickman’s blush.
Mr. Carter was back soon with the tray.
“How are they?” Anna asked.
“Settling in. The baby sleeps,” Mr. Carter said.
“Yes, she is wonderful that way,” Anna said. “My father was last in Dubuque seven months ago in October,” she continued. “Did you see him then?” Anna’s father came to Dubuque occasionally on business and on matters pertaining to the railroad. Anna usually stayed behind to tend to the store.
Mrs. Carter looked at Mr. Carter, now seated. “Yes, that is about the time we last saw him, was it not, dear?”
Mr. Carter nodded. “Yes, he stayed here, as is his habit when he comes to Dubuque.”
Anna did not now how much longer she could tolerate her curiosity regarding Mr. Damon.
“Mr. Damon, I did not know you knew Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” she began.
Mrs. Brickman tapped Anna’s foot lightly with her own as if to warn her.
“Yes, we have been acquainted for some years,” Mr. Damon said. “I have business which brings me to Dubuque as well.”
“Oh?” Anna asked.
“Yes,” he said with an almost pleasant smile.
Infuriating man, she fumed silently! He apparently had no intention of saying more.
