“Return to these parts?” Jayne’s right eyebrow jerked up with a small satisfaction she’d caught him in a lie. “Your accent, sir, obviously shows you are not a resident of any local area but from the South. And I do believe you have not yet introduced yourself properly.”
“To be presented correctly one must have a third party in attendance to do the introductions. These children are not sufficiently old enough for that duty.” The man grinned at the children surrounding the two of them. His smile set the children giggling as they turned and ran away, and he focused once again on Jayne, inviting her to smile in return. But Jayne pressed her lips together and forced herself not to respond. She would have none of that from this smooth-talking preacher.
“I’m sorry. You have come at an inopportune time. Mr. Marc van Hoyton is presently unable to receive visitors.” Jayne stood up straight, trying to make her five-foot height appear taller. “And he most likely would be the only one who could answer your questions about Mr. McTierney’s whereabouts.”
“I’m sorry your employer is unwell, miss,” The handsome preacher replied as he reached inside his coat and pulled out a small, white calling card. “Please be kind enough to give him this and tell him that I will try to call at a more convenient time.”
Jayne opened and closed her mouth several times before she could reply. Imagine him thinking I’m a servant! It took a moment to remember her attire was her oldest shift dress, and her hardy work shoes were clearly visible under the too-short hem. It had slipped her mind that she was dressed for washday, and he had observed her coming out of the rear quarters of her home. To be considered a servant irritated her, but she just wanted him gone. Rather than waste the time correcting him, she snatched the card from his hand, turned, and began to walk away from his disturbing presence. “Very well, sir. May you have a pleasant afternoon.”
“God bless you, miss. I hope I see you in church on Sunday.”
“Only if you are a Methodist, sir!” she shouted back as she quickly climbed the porch steps. She forced herself not to turn to watch him mount and ride away, but she couldn’t ignore the sound of his chuckles above the horse’s nicker.
Chapter 2
Jayne entered the kitchen only to see that the table was set for the evening meal and the freed women were nowhere in sight.
“Some man, dressed as a preacher, wanted to know if Jim lived here. He tried to convince me that he was from around here, but his Southern accent gave him away,” Jayne proudly told her mother as she handed over the man’s calling card. “Humph! I didn’t tell him a thing other than that Father could not receive guests.”
“And, that you are a Methodist,” her mother murmured as she accepted the card from her daughter. “I believe our neighbors heard you as well.”
“Oh, Mother! I was not that loud!”
“Hmmm.” Her mother was noncommittal on the matter as her full attention was on the name printed on the ivory-colored card. “The Reverend Mr. Jeremiah Bronson. I wonder how he knows Lil’ Jim?”
“He really is a preacher?” Jayne asked as she frowned. “Well, just because he carries a card saying so doesn’t mean anything! I think he’s a Southern spy!”
“Let’s call the others to dinner, my dear.” her mother slipped the card into a pocket of her apron before turning toward the wood cookstove. With a large ladle, she began to dish out the savory soup into a tureen.
“Are we eating down here tonight, Mother?” Jayne asked as she looked at the number of chairs set around the table.
“Yes,” She stated quietly. “It will be easier on everyone if we do. Now that you know, there is no longer any need for secrecy among us.”
After grabbing the pull rope for the dinner bell and sending it clanging, Jayne looked around and asked, “Where are the women? Are they not going to join us?”
“No, my dear.” her mother shook her head. “These frightened women are unable to sit at the table and eat a meal. It has always bothered me, but your father explained the reason for it. The young men who accompanied the crates from the South are the only ones accounted for. If anyone was to show up unexpectedly, there would be no need for explanations or for hiding them, the extra dishes, and so forth.”
“Them women, if caught, face possible death.” Hannah spoke up as she struggled to her feet to shuffle over to the table. “So they are safe in the hidden room under the kitchen table. They have washed and are wrapped in clean quilts on the beds. They are warm and can stretch out to relieve their aching joints. They even have a lamp for light ’cause the rug over the door hides any light from showing through. Because of the stranger, they will have to wait for their hot meal. They have each been given a small beef jerky to tide them over until the food will be brought to them.”
“None ever object, instinctively understanding the necessity,” Jayne's mother agreed, smiling at her husband as he came slowly back down the stairs. “They are overjoyed at being able to move about as well as being provided with food and clean clothing.”
“Yes,” Jayne's father stated as he sat down at the head of the table. “After we all have eaten, the next stage to freedom will begin. Since it is still daytime, the boys could go to rest in the hayloft of the barn until nightfall.”
Slowly, everyone returned to the kitchen. The flickering lights emphasized the exhaustion on each of the faces of those in the room. Jayne watched as her father's scarred hand wrapped around her mother's slim fingers before reaching for George’s with his other. After everyone had joined hands, Jayne's father lowered his head and said a blessing. “God, we thank You for the many blessings You have bestowed on us this day. The lives You have brought together as well as the many hearts. We ask You to bless this food for the nourishment of our bodies, so we can be strengthened to do Your Will. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”
The children were fed first and led off by Jessie to bed down. The men sat around the kitchen table as the women served them, an occasional delicate hand gently touching a slumped shoulder as they placed the food before them. After the men were served, the women sat down as well, but were prepared to quickly rise to fill an empty bowl or cup.
The talk, slow to start, turned toward those first days of the elder folks’ personal involvement in this secretive activity. Jayne barely touched the food in her bowl as she listened intently on how her family became caught up in all of this.
“Freeing Hannah, George, and Mary, who had been my slaves in 1826, did not ease my longing to help others. The newspaper reports from abolitionists like John Brown fueled my desire.” Jayne's father smiled across the large bowl of soup in front of him. “But it was on a trip in 1843 to Bridgeport, Connecticut, that changed me completely. I saw this unbelievably tall black woman named Sojourner Truth. Her presence was intimidating, but the hymns she sang made me stop and listen. The simple words she used when she began to speak to the crowd were riveting as she described the horrors of slavery, and this woman was born and raised in New York! I prayed God could somehow use me.” Jayne's father looked over at Mary’s husband, Pete. “Soon after, God gave me the opportunity I sought and continued to do so for many years to come.”
Glancing up at Jayne, who had risen to retrieve fresh slices of bread to pass around, her father thanked her as he accepted a piece and continued. “Pete here was the first runaway that crossed my path. I saw him climbing up out of the freezing waters of the D&H Canal one late October day and scamper behind a large oak tree. He stood there dripping wet, watching the first of the ten locks fill for the barge to pass through. ”Jayne's father ate a few spoonfuls of the fragrant soup before resuming the story. “Normally, most lock tenders would have compassion to the plight of others. Only it was not normal times. Depression had hit the area with a violent hand, and many people were suffering, fearing what the future would bring. Fall was long gone it seemed, and all knew that in just days the canal could free
ze over and be closed for the winter.” He wrapped his good left hand around a steaming cup of tea. “Those who could afford to would head for Kingston and have their barges towed to the piers of Manhattan to winter over there. But many others were facing approaching financial difficulties. Such men would be tempted to do almost anything for extra money. They would look at a runaway, and rather than see a desperate human being, all they could picture was a hefty sum from a reward. I truly believe only God could have made that hiding man not hear my approach.”
“That’s because my teeth was chattering too loud to hear anythin’,” Pete commented, laughing briefly before he grew solemn. “Marc grabbed me by the scuff of the neck, and I thought ‘That’s it. I’m finished.’ But when his scarred hand covered my mouth, I didn’t know what to think.” Jayne's father nodded. “I was afraid he’d shout or struggle as I led him away from the canal and took him up the old dirt path to the cabin.”
“Why the cabin?” Jayne asked as she walked around the table, refilling the teacups. “Didn’t you and Mother still live in the big house then? I was born there, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, you were. In fact, you were born just days later,” her father agreed. “But I didn’t know what to do now that I had this man. I always trusted Hannah and George’s judgment, so I figured they would know what to do, because I clearly could not turn him back to the authorities.”
“And I am ever thankful you didn’t,” Pete and Mary both stated, their simultaneous response causing laughter and smiles to come to all in the room.
“Back then, the cabin only contained the big main room for a living and eating area with a couple of bedrooms off to the side—but they be mighty chilly,” Hannah interjected as she stirred her soup. “I took one look at that drippin’ wet boy and just stoked up the fire and pushed the soup kettle back over the coals. I went to grab some of George’s clothes, and when I returned, the runaway stood before the roaring fireplace, looking with suspicion at Marc, his wide eyes going back and forth between him and the door. I kept my eyes on that soup pot as Marc had him peel off his soaked pants and shirt.
“It didn't surprise you, Hannah, to have a stranger dripping water all over your floor?” Jayne asked, amazed at the reactions of her loved ones to this whole adventure. “Didn't you ask for an explanation?”
“No, my dear child.” Hannah chuckled. “One gets use to strange sights appearing at one's door. As I was saying, after I put steaming bowls of soup down on the table, I glanced up, and what a sight! George’s clothes were hanging on that thin boy, making him like a scarecrow.”
George chuckled. “Well, when I came in and saw that ‘sight,’ as Hannah called him, I just smiled my widest smile and grabbed hold of the stranger’s hand and asked him for his name. Seemed to me everyone else lost their manners.”
“Really George?” Jayne blurted out, interrupting again. “You just shake hands with a man who is standing in your house in your clothes?”
“Well, Jayne,” George smiled a wide toothless grin. “Like Hannah said. You get use to strangers entering your life when you decide to do God's will.”
Mary giggled, and nudged Pete's shoulder. “When you help strangers, you could be entertaining angels, so says the Good Book.”
“Now, Mary that's the nicest thing you ever said to me.” Pete leaned up against his wife.
“Quick,” Jayne laughed as she looked away from the couple beside her and turned to Hannah. “Continue the story, please.”
“As soon as the stranger stammered out, ‘Pete,’” Hannah continued, smiling over at her graying man sitting there. “I came and stood between him and Marc. I took Pete’s hand in one of mine and Marc’s in the other, while George joined us into a circle and I offered up a prayer. Funny how them words just came up out of me. I can still remember it, too.”
“You are not the only one, Hannah,” Jayne's father said, surprising her when she caught sight of the wetness in his blue eyes as he repeated that prayer from long ago. “Thank You, Lord, for bringing us Pete, this child of Yours, to our home. He is hunting for Your Promised Land and has temporarily found a safe place to rest. May the food we eat together at this table nourish his hungry body, and may Your Presence bring peace to his soul. And thank You, Lord, for giving Marc the chance to serve You more. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”
“I didn’t need a second invitation to eat, ploppin’ right down at that table and startin’ to slurp up the soup.” Pete laughed gruffly, a crooked grin on his face as if to hide any of the emotion he was feeling. “I remember answering their many questions between mouthfuls. I was careful in my replies because, in all honesty, I was not completely convinced this wasn’t some scheme to catch others.”
“Don’t blame you there.” Jayne's father nodded in agreement. “There were many who were trying to stop the train from reaching its destination.”
“What train?” Jayne piped up, then blushed as understanding came. “Oh right—the Underground Railroad. Not really a train.”
“That’s right. I escaped the bloodhounds of the bounty hunters by traveling north, wading through various streams and rivers,” Pete told them as he took big gulps of his tea. “The freezing waters of the North were almost the end of me, but I continued up through Pennsylvania. In a place called Honesdale, I saw the barges going up the canal, and I hung onto the back of the boats as they headed north. Had to keep an eye out for The Minnie, the paymaster’s launch, but as it was the only steam vessel on the whole canal, I could hear it coming.
“Now I had to be right careful as I hung on them sides. The captain and his wife lived on board the canal boat, and there would be a boy or girl and a mule that pulled the barge up the canal. Sometimes I had to pray a barge going the other way wouldn’t have someone looking back and spot me hanging there like a side of Black Angus. A lot of the families had a dog. Those barges I stayed away from, for the dogs’ barking would cause trouble. Only by God’s grace I wasn’t discovered, especially when the slop bucket was emptied every morning.”
“Oh, that must have been horrible!” Jayne wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Yes, but even that was better than being a slave,” Pete said gruffly. He took a deep breath before continuing. “The canal was closed on Sundays, which thankfully I missed on that journey. Every day the water seemed colder. Almost got caught once—my fingers seemed to have hooked on permanent-like. Each night the canaller sang as he got drunk. To this day when I hear someone singing ‘Haul On The Bowline,’ it brings it all back.”
“How I remember each lock tender shouting out the name of them locks! Barryville, Pond Eddy, Mongaup, Port Jervis, Huguenot, Godeffroy, Roses Point, Cuddebackville, Westbrookville, Haven, Wurtsboro, Beatysburg—well, it is Summitville now—and, finally, Phillipsport. Each time we reached a lock, I would have to let go and hide and somehow get past the lock to find another ride. I knew there were many more miles to go, but this was where I got off. Phillipsport stumped me. There were so many locks—ten in all—and I did not know what I was to do. That was when Marc got hold of me.”
Pete shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell them where I was from. I just said, ‘Where I come from ain’t as important as where I be goin’. I be goin’ to a place where I can be a man, free to be who God wants me to be.”
“It was his last words that convinced me that God was going to use me for this purpose,” Jayne's father remarked as he smiled at those around the room and reached for Amanda’s hand. “But my surprise was when Hannah explained the need for secrecy and gave Pete directions to the next destination. Apparently both she and George had been helping others before that time. I handed most of my money bag to Pete, so he could buy food along the way, and silently prayed God would guide him.”
“As Pete was preparing to leave, young Mary here walked into the kitchen.” Hannah chuckled as she nudged the younger black woman. “For the longest mome
nt, the two just stared at each other before Mary turned and filled a sack with bread, cheese, and jerky.”
“She said just two words to him. ‘Come back.’” Jayne's father laughed. “But you could sense a connection between the two. It was no surprise when five years later, a Mr. Pete Comeback returned as a freeman from Canada to court and marry Mary.”
“That’s right.” Pete grabbed his wife around the waist and pulled her over next to him. She chuckled as she let herself relax in his clasp. “I took those words as a last name and a promise. Second best thing I ever done. Four children and six grandchildren later, I have been blest.”
“Me as well.” Mary spoke only those few words, but the look they shared told anyone caring to notice the depth of their feelings for each other.
“But how did Jim get involved . . .” Jayne asked, puzzled, “living way down South?”
Her father replied, “Lil’ Jim was not told what we were involved in but, unexpectedly to us, became drawn into this mission. He went to the Medical College of the State of South Carolina and resided with various members of my cousin’s family who live nearby. Shortly after his graduation, Lil’ Jim had a messenger bring us some gifts. I sent back a note of thanks, but the messenger I directed to freedom.”
“Jim never inquired of the man’s whereabouts.” Jayne's mother squeezed her husband’s hand. “But I did. Since your father had promised never to lie to me, he had to confess to his actions. I was angry that he had not told me when he’d first begun this journey and worried about the consequences his decision may have had upon Jim. I worried more about how others might perceive Marc’s involvement in actions similar to a Connecticut-born abolitionist named John Brown. Marc believed this man was doing the right thing back then. I agreed to help just once, but one look in those poor people’s eyes had me involved for the long haul. We became a family of depot managers, so to speak.”
Secret Way to the Heart Page 2
