As soon as the meal was over, Jesse stood up and motioned to Abby. “We’ll be going now,” he said.
“Oh, yes,” Rachel responded. “The Logan House! It’s near the railway station, a few blocks down 10th street.”
The bridal couple took their leave politely, obviously anxious to be alone.
Jacob Schilling rose and turned to Nate. “Come on, little Brother. Time you learned the wonders of the big city.”
Amos watched them go with a yawn and mumbled something about going to bed with the chickens, if he could only find some chickens, and retired early, giving Rachel and me a chance to talk more freely than we had in years.
“What will you do when they’re gone, Ann, with only Papa and Nate to do for?”
“Truth to tell, I’ll be lost without both of them.”
“Why don’t you come to Altoona and live with us for a while? Maybe you would meet a nice man and get married.”
“Thank you, Rachel, but no. Someone has to take care of Papa. Nate will marry soon enough, but I can’t leave Papa. Besides, Jacob wouldn’t want me around.”
“Whyever not?”
“I’m a little too saucy for him, I think.”
Rachel sat quietly, studying her hands in her lap. “He’s not such a bad man. He has his good qualities.”
“No doubt he does, but our personalities would clash, I’m afraid.” I looked directly at her. “How are you doing, Rachel? You look well enough, but I miss my old sister. Where’s she gone?”
“One grows up. Three children and a husband tame the child pretty quick.”
“Is he good to you?” I pressed.
“Yes.” Rachel hesitated. “Most of the time. But I always toe the line. If I anger him, he can be beastly. Not that many men aren’t the same. When you live as close to your neighbors as I do, you know that.”
“Maybe so, but I worry for you. You’re not the carefree girl I grew up with, and my guess is it has more to do with him than the children.”
“The children are my joy. Jacob is my keeper.”
“As I suspected. You know you could leave him and come home to us, especially with Jesse leaving.”
“Oh, no. I could never do that. The children need their father, and Jacob’s a good provider. We want for nothing. I would find life in the old place hard,” she said. Then, apologetically, ”I’ve learned to like my comforts.”
I studied her, hoping my worst fears were groundless. But I knew in my heart that Jacob Schilling and I would clash mightily, given the opportunity. I lay awake long into the night, brooding over the impending loss of Jesse and Abby and over Rachel’s plight.
In the morning, the family gathered for breakfast without the newlyweds. I helped Rachel dress the children, and we set out for the station, Baby John in a fine new wicker perambulator, young James riding on Uncle Nate’s shoulders, and prim little Ellen holding my hand. Jesse and Abby waited on the platform, their joy in one another impossible to mask. A shudder passed through me when I saw them. How could I ever say goodbye?
We engaged in light conversation as the locomotive steamed up and passengers from the east alighted. Jesse saw to the loading of the trunk, then rejoined the family. He took both my hands in his and looked into my eyes. I couldn’t return his gaze without tears, so I looked away.
“Good-bye, Ann,” he said softly. Pulling me to him, he gave me an awkward hug. “I’ll miss you.”
Unable to speak, I stood encircled by his arms until he let me go. Then I turned and hugged Abby.
“I love you like a sister, Ann,” she said, holding back her own tears. “I know how much Jesse means to you. I’ll take good care of him.”
They stepped aboard the train, and we watched them settle in. Jesse opened the window and talked to us as they waited to pull out. I found myself wishing the train would just go. It was a full five minutes before it rumbled out of the station, building up steam for the long haul up the Alleghenies. I looked away as the rest watched it disappear. In need of distraction, I tucked Baby John’s blanket around him and took little Ellen’s hand. When I saw Amos wipe a tear from his eye, I reached out with my other hand and took his arm. It felt small and weak. He looked, suddenly, like an old man.
We said goodbye to Rachel and the children around ten o’clock and drove south out of the city toward Bedford. Nate tried to distract Amos with farm talk, but got only mumbled responses. I stared at the road ahead, afraid to speak lest my emotions overflow.
At home, Nate put up the horses and I tied on my apron to prepare supper. I looked around at the empty house, tomb-like in its silence. So much of life had happened here, and now, it seemed, it was gone for good. Suddenly, I missed Sam and Josiah overwhelmingly, so much that I had to find a way to see them.
Sam was almost five now and, according to reports from Josiah, was growing tall, handsome, and smart. Hearing about him in letters was better than not, but I needed to see him. Urgently. I wondered how Lettie would take to a visit from me. For a few days. To satisfy the longing.
That evening I wrote to Josiah by lamplight:
Dear Josiah,
I take my pen in hand to write to you, hoping
these lines find you in good health. Jesse
and Abby are now man and wife. They left this
morning for Indiana. I find myself alone and
in need of distraction. To be direct, I wish to
come visit you and especially Sam. Do you
think Lettie could forbear such an intrusion?
Please speak to her for me. I await your
response.
Yours, Ann Redfield
The next day, without waiting for the letter to be posted, I asked Nate to arrange for some of my money to be made available. I laid out my itinerary, following the same route I’d taken with Lettie and Sam four years earlier, only this time there was a train between Pittsburgh and Erie, so the trip wouldn’t take as long.
Josiah’s response was two weeks in coming:
Dear Ann,
I am overjoyed to hear of your wish to visit
us. Of course you are welcome. Lettie is
delighted and looks forward to seeing you. She
can’t wait to show off our home and family.
Please, by all means, confirm your plans and
advise us when to expect you.
Yours, Josiah
I marveled at Lettie’s forbearance and resolved to convey to her my deep appreciation. I wrote to her that very night, trying to put into words what I had held so long in my heart.
Her response to me put the matter to rest for all time.
Dear Ann,
I take my pen in hand with the help of my husband who writes better than I do. But these words are my own.
There are those who would find our relationship strange, awkward or unacceptable. We can not care for their opinions. I cling to the things I know. I know you are a good person. I know Sam is a darling child. I know Josiah loves me. I know we, all of us, need to care for one another. I know you respect me or you would not have given Sam to me. So where is the need for rancor? Where is the need for bitterness? Life moves forward. One step in front of the other. You saved Josiah’s life. You gave us both our freedom. You gave us our son. What more can we ask of you?
Lettie Colton, Freewoman
The next day, when I told Nate and Papa of my plans, Amos responded, “Say hello to my grandson for me.” It was his way of saying he forgave me my trespasses.
Ï
The travel was almost as long, jolting, and dusty as the first time, with the addition of a plague of motion sickness from the lake crossing. I arrived at Port Stanley, Ontario, weary and travel-worn. There was no coach to Dresden. The only option was to take a coach to London, a train to Chatham and hire a driver to take me and my trunk the rest of the way.
I arrived in the little Canadian town just after six o’clock the next day. It was a tiny hamlet, so it took only two queries to find Josiah Colton’s house. I was dropped off at a n
eat cottage, fenced and trellised, with a new coat of paint, a thriving vegetable garden, and flowers in every available space. I smiled my approval, paid my driver, and directed him to carry my trunk to the door.
I was greeted by Lettie, smiling, a child on her hip and another clinging to her skirt. Her warm welcome erased any fears I had about lingering hurt or jealousy. I was graciously gathered into their home without reservation.
“Sam! Sam! Come here, boy! There’s someone here to see you!” Lettie beamed in anticipation of showing off my son to me.
A tall, sturdy, light-skinned child stepped out of one of the bedrooms. “Good evening, Ma’am.” He extended his hand.
I took his hand in both of mine, fighting the urge to sweep him up in my arms. “Good evening, Sam. I’m Ann Redfield, a friend of your family. I’m so happy to meet you.”
The boy, smiling broadly, looked at me expectantly. “Aren’t you the lady who sends me presents?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Did you bring me anything?”
Lettie swiftly pointed out his breach of manners, with apologies to me. “He’s been trained better, but sometimes he forgets.”
I smiled, still holding Sam’s hand. He stepped toward me, laying his head on my hip. “I’m sorry, Miss Ann Redfield,” he said. “But I hope you did bring me something.”
I knelt and looked into my son’s face, where I saw traces of Josiah, and traces of Jesse, but his curly black hair and deep brown eyes shifted the balance in favor of his father. Three quarters white, his skin was pale in comparison to Lettie’s and Josiah’s. I found him extremely handsome and wished Papa and the rest could see him.
“Yes, Sam, I think I can find something for you in my trunk,” I smiled, turning to bring it in the front door. I was met by Josiah, coming up the walk. Smiling broadly, he swept me off my feet and swung me in a circle.
“Welcome to Canada, Ann! Welcome to Freedomland!”
I laughed out loud at the sound of his voice.
“Lettie, let’s eat! I’m a hungry man,” he bellowed, lifting my trunk, which looked diminutive perched atop his muscular shoulder.
We sat down at the table, the baby in her cradle and Sam and little Ann perched up on boards over chair arms. I couldn’t help but feel pride in my role in getting this family to ‘Freedomland.’
“Where are Amanda and Lovely?” I asked.
“Lovely got married in the spring, and Mama moved over there about a month ago. Lovely is with child and not having an easy time.”
“How long are you staying with us, Miss Ann Redfield?” Sam wanted to know.
“Just a few days. Until mid-week.”
“Oh. Why did you come here?”
“Mostly to see you, Sam,” I answered honestly.
“Now that you’ve seen me, are you going home?”
I laughed. I longed to enfold him in my arms, cling to him. He was so beautiful it almost stopped my heart. How had I found the courage to give him away? How would I find it again, to leave him for a second time?
After the meal, I opened my trunk and presented gifts to the whole family, even baby Athena. There were clothes and toys and sweets for everyone. In truth, I had packed very little for myself. When I finished handing out the gifts, the trunk was nearly empty.
I watched Lettie herd the little ones off to bed, grateful for the generosity of her heart, for her being strong enough to stand back and let this be. I wanted nothing more than to watch from afar as my son grew up and to be allowed a small measure of significance to Josiah. Somehow Lettie knew it without being told, and I am forever indebted to her for that.
While she attended to the children, Josiah invited me into the garden for some fresh air.
“You’re doing well, Josiah. Your home and family look prosperous.”
He smiled. “We do all right. What do you think of our boy?”
Calling him ‘our boy’ gave me a turn. To acknowledge our relationship so was a joy to me. “I think he’s a fine, bright, healthy boy in good hands. I think the universe turns on his whim.”
Josiah laughed. “I try not to let him know that.”
“I’m glad I came. It’s good to see you free and happy. I’m not sure how much we’ll have to do with the Railroad now that Jesse’s gone.”
“Even if he were still here, I’d think you’d be a little fearful. All of you.”
I turned to him, my chin trembling. “Oh, Josiah! It was awful. So awful to be abused by someone we were trying to help. Abby and I were badly beaten, but Jesse! I was terrified for him. Afraid he’d never walk again.” The tears came and I made no effort to hide them. There was no need. “That’s why I had to come and see you. I had to see the good that’s come of it. Every time I looked at Jesse, I saw the bad.”
Josiah sighed. “Folks want charity to fall on worthy ground. But don’t let one bad time outweigh the good. Don’t let it stop you or even slow you down. Those poor slaves need you now more than ever. Come. Come with me.”
Josiah led me out the garden gate and down the main street of Dresden. Along the way he pointed out the homes of former slaves he’d seen come to Canada and make a good life. He was so sincere, so grateful, so sure of the importance of our work, I took heart and dried my tears.
As we walked along in the gathering twilight, he introduced me to his friends and neighbors, and they responded with joy and gratitude. One old man held my hand in both of his and looked long into my eyes, tears channeling down his wrinkled face. “Freedom be the greatest gift,” he said.
When we returned to his house, Josiah took my hand. “Come inside. I’ve something to show you.”
In the parlor he pulled a book from the shelf, one I had heard of, but never read, Bunyan’s Pilgrims Progress. Inside the back cover he showed me a series of tick marks, in groups of five, four uprights and a diagonal.
“These are people I know you’ve helped,” he said. “I took them from your letters. Each time you wrote of a Railroad event, I marked down the number of people you saved. I did this for Sam. I want him to know what his mother did—some day.”
I looked at the tick marks through gathering tears. There were more than a hundred and fifty.
“I’m sure there are some I’ve missed. Do the work, Ann. Don’t let one poor, sad, twisted soul stop you.”
“I feel like a man with one arm without Jesse.”
“Then use your other arm.”
I raised my chin, looked into his eyes and nodded.
Chapter 30
1861 - 1862
One day in late April, Nate burst in from Alum Bank with the mail, his young face alive with the news he carried.
“War. They’ve gone and started to fight. Down in South Carolina.” Amos and I stared at him. “Well, don’t look so surprised. Tension’s been building for years. I knew it would come, soon as we elected Lincoln.”
More disbelief than surprise. I sat down at the kitchen table to think. Nate added details about the shelling of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor and Lincoln’s call for troops. Amos sat on a straight chair, rubbing his hands over his thighs, his face red, listening.
“Are they all quitting the Union?” I asked.
“All those ones that went after the election. Virginia went, too. Probably the rest’ll follow.”
It felt like someone had died. “I guess we had our part in it, Jesse and I,” I mused. “I don’t regret it, but I hoped it would never come to this. I hate slavery, but I hate war even more.”
Nate stood in the middle of the kitchen, an odd excitement in his eyes. “Guess this’ll shake things up around here.”
“Shake things up! More likely tear us asunder.” Amos warned. “It’s hard enough to keep the Quaker principles without this.”
“Some’ll join up, no matter if they get disowned,” Nate allowed. “Some won’t, even if you promise them a kingdom. And some’ll find a way around taking sides and come through at a profit!”
Amos shook his head. “None of mine.
None of mine.”
The next week, Papa rose at Meeting and ranted against the war. No one spoke for it, even though, as Nate said, in their hearts they welcomed an end to the constant bickering and compromise. “Quakers don’t embrace violence!” Amos thundered. “Let the non-Quakers traipse off to Bedford to enlist. We’ll still be here when it’s over.” But, when, early in June, news came of the rout of Union troops at a place in Virginia called Manassas, concern heightened and enlistments increased. More than a few seats on the men’s side of the Meeting house were empty come July.
Through the spring, Nate and I held long evening talks about the war, out on the porch, after the work was done. Something was going on in my little brother’s head, for sure.
“Joseph Blackwell up and left last week to join the Army,” Nate told us. “Seems to be a pattern. Working in the fields one day and gone the next.”
I nodded. “The fathers want to hold to Quaker principles—and their sons—but war has the power to pull them in.”
“For some it does.” Nate looked thoughtful.
“Not for you, I hope.” I’d been wary of him since the war began, hoping he wouldn’t take it in his head to go.
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, I won’t be farming this time next year. I hate it. Pa and I trying to make up for the loss of Jesse. It’s too much. When harvest is over, I’m moving on.”
His words alarmed me. “What will you do?”
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