by Ginny Dye
Carrie frowned. “I didn’t hear anything. Is there something I need to take care of?” Then she paused. “What in the world is someone doing out on a day like this? It’s almost dark.”
“They didn’t come to the front door,” Sam announced, still wearing his smile. “Done come to the back door.”
Carrie, confused, sat back in her chair. “Will you please tell me what you are talking about? Who just came, and why were they at the back door?” Suddenly her eyes opened wide. She could think of only one reason someone would be out on a night like this and appear only at the back door. Someone connected with the Underground Railroad had made a delivery. “Sam…?”
Sam nodded and held out the envelope to her. Then he held up another one, already opened. “I got me a letter, too,” he said proudly. Only then did his eyes mist over. “I’ll leave you to read your letter.”
Carrie, her heart pounding and her hands trembling, quickly opened the envelope and pulled the thin letter out.
Dearest Carrie,
I am limited in what I write in case this letter falls into the wrong hands but I wanted you to know we have safely reached our planned destination. Our hostess sends her deepest, heartfelt love to you. Our journey took us longer than expected but we reached our destination at the end of October. We are both doing well. Our hostess is taking good care of us and opportunities are opening up.
Our hearts are with you and we think of you often. We miss you greatly and long for the day we can all be reunited. Thank you for making all this possible. We will never be able to fully express our gratitude. Please take good care of yourself.
Love,
R & M
Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as quiet sobs shook her body. Rose and Moses had made it! They were safe in Pennsylvania with Aunt Abby. Relief flooded her body as visions of their struggling through months of winter cold vanished from her mind. It had taken the Underground Railroad over two months to deliver the letter, but there was no telling what route it had been forced to take.
Quiet contentment filled Carrie as she stared into the flames of the fire. Rose and Moses were safe. They had accomplished the first step toward fulfilling their dreams. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to Robert. But it wasn’t the longing for him that shook her to the core. It was the sudden intense feeling he was in danger. Gasping, she gripped the letter tighter and stared out the window, shaken with the knowledge something horrible was happening to Robert.
She slipped to her knees and buried her head in her hands. Quietly, she began to pray.
Robert had never been so miserable in his life as he was now. After the successful moves to cut the North’s communication lines, General Jackson had ordered the troops to move on to Romney. They had marched headlong into the worst weather they had encountered to this point. The temperature plunged dramatically while snow and sleet pelted them and coated their bodies. Underneath their feet, the sleet transformed itself into a solid sheet of ice.
The first steep incline had forced them off the roads and into the ditches and open fields. It was the only way they could make any progress.
“Look at that, Lieutenant,” Hobbs yelled, pointing back toward the road as Robert’s troops scrambled to gain footing on the steep hill.
Robert glance back. “Good Lord,” he muttered. “They’ll never make it.” He stopped and watched as the first of the supply wagons reached the hill. The smoothly shod horses were doing their best to haul the wagons, but the slippery road was too much for them. Robert groaned as he watched their struggle - one slipped, fell, and fought frantically to regain his footing as the other horses slid around him. The shouts of men filled the air as they encouraged the horses and tried to force them to move forward.
Robert watched for several long minutes and then turned back. “Come on, men. We have to help.” Silently, his men turned and followed him.
Robert sized up the situation quickly and stationed his men behind the wagons. “We have to help the horses. They can’t possibly pull this up, but if we put our weight into it and push, the combination of our efforts may make it possible,” he yelled over the commotion. He was the first to put his shoulder into the back of one of the wagons. The men around him sprang into action, grunting as the heavy weight of the wagon pressed back against them. Encouraged, the watching wagon drivers cheered as that wagon began to move forward slowly.
Robert was gasping for breath when they reached the top of the hill, but at least he wasn’t cold anymore. Sweat poured from his body even as ice caked on his beard. He peered down the hill in front of him. He shook his head and reached out to stop the driver as he lifted his reins to send the horses on. “You’ll never make it,” he snapped. “The wagon will slide right over the horses. They won’t be able to stop.”
The driver glared at him, obviously short-tempered. “What am I supposed to do?” he growled. “Just perch here on the hill? I got other wagons coming up behind me.”
Robert thought quickly. An idea came to mind. “Do you have rope in here?” he asked. The driver nodded and rummaged behind him then pulled out several long coils. Robert grabbed them and tied four lengths to the top of the wagon. He handed the ends to the four men standing with him. “Spread out to the sides of the road where you have some traction. Use trees for leverage wherever you can. Just keep the wagon moving slowly,” he shouted as another wagon lumbered up behind them. The four men sprang into action, and with a look of surprised admiration, the driver once again lifted his reins.
Robert stepped back to watch. Would his idea work? Or would the four men plunge down the hill after the horses? Slowly the wagon began to move. Cursing and shouting filled the air as the men struggled to hold the wagon back. There were moments when it seemed the wagon would slide right off the road and take the horses with it, but finally the wagon reached the bottom of the hill. Not too far ahead, another hill loomed.
“It’s going to take us till spring to reach Romney.”
Robert turned and smiled weakly at Hobbs. “I’m afraid you might be right.” Then he shrugged. He was aware of the discontent brewing among the troops. “We have one order. To move forward. Somehow we have to figure out how to do it.”
Hobbs nodded and moved to the back of the next wagon and attached the ropes Robert handed him. “We’re ready, sir,” he finally called.
“Move on,” Robert called to the driver.
One by one the ammunition and supply wagons, as well as the ambulances, slithered their way to the top of the hill. The last one was on its way up when one of the men fell and refused to move. His eyes were glazed with pain, fatigue, and cold as he stared up at Robert.
“I done brought five wagons up this hill, Lieutenant,” he said faintly. “I ain’t got nothing left.”
Robert nodded, helped him to his feet, and led him to the side of the road. “You did great work, Clark. Rest here. I’ll take your place.” Robert sprang over to the wagon and threw his weight into it. Slowly the wagon began to move forward.
They were almost to the top when it began to slide sideways. The driver cursed and snapped his whip then called encouragement to his struggling horses, but the ice had continued to thicken, and there seemed no way to stop it.
“Hold it men!” Robert cried, stepping more to the side and throwing his weight into the wagon to stop its slide. A quick glance across his shoulder revealed a gaping ravine yawning just feet from where he stood.
“We’re not going to stop it, Lieutenant!” one of the men cried. “It’s going!”
Robert shook his head. “No!” he yelled. “This wagon is full of food. Keep pushing!” Every muscle in his body screamed in agony as he fought to stop the inevitable.
Suddenly the ground gave way beneath him. He grabbed for the wagon but missed. Robert slid down the ditch and grabbed for something to stop his fall as he stared up at the wagon teetering on the edge above him. He crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the ravine.
“Lieutenant!” he heard a voice scream.
Robert stared up at the wagon, his energy and strength spent. So this was how it was going to end. There was no glory in being crushed by a wagon. Suddenly a picture of Carrie flashed in his mind. Searing regret shot through him that he would never see her again.
Move!
The word shot through his head as if he had received a verbal command.
Move!
From somewhere Robert found the strength to stand and lunge for the top of the ravine. His wildly groping hand found a root. Groaning with the effort, he pulled himself up. His shoulders had barely cleared the top when he heard a yell behind him. There was a scream as the horses lost their fight. The wagon and the horses pulling it plunged down the slope. Robert felt the wagon brush his leg as it crashed into the bottom of the ravine, but his grip on the root held.
Robert’s men rushed over to grab his hands and haul him up the rest of the way. He collapsed on the top and gasped for breath. Finally he looked down. Three of the horses were still thrashing, one ominously still. Robert felt sorry for the three; at least the dead one was free from its struggle. Then his breath caught. What had happened to the driver? A quick glance reassured him. The driver must have jumped just as the wagon plunged over the edge.
Suddenly Jackson was there, staring down at the wagon. His voice was sorrowful. “The wagon is done for, men. But we have to get that food.” Then his voice hardened as if he was trying to fight his own feelings. “Cut the horses free. There is a place about a hundred feet up where you can lead them out. If any of them have broken a leg...” He didn’t finish his command.
He didn’t have to. The men knew what they would have to do.
Jackson looked over at Robert. “You all right, Lieutenant? The men told me you are responsible for moving the wagons. Thank you.”
Robert nodded and raised his hand. “I’m fine, sir.” But he didn’t move. His close brush with death had left him dazed.
Clark led a group of men down into the ditch. Several minutes later, two of the men led two horses away and out of sight. Robert closed his eyes as a shot rang out.
It was almost dark when the wagon was completely unloaded and the food transferred to another. The men spread out into the surrounding field and settled in for another long, miserable night.
Robert crawled into his tent and lay quietly, listening to the wind and sleet assaulting their position. He knew how close he had come to dying. He had been sure when he saw the wagon teetering above him that it was all over. Then the voice had surged through his being, giving his body strength he didn’t know he possessed.
He had tried to fight the knowledge ever since, but here alone in his tent, he faced the truth: God had saved him. God had shouted the command to his brain. God had infused his body with strength.
God had always been a thing to know about. A thing that preachers talked about. A thing that you thought about when you went to church, which had only been on rare occasions for him. He had always believed in God, he supposed. It had just never touched him.
Now he knew God was real. And for some reason, God must want him alive. For the first time in his life, he felt the warmth of love in his heart. Not the kind of love one sent – the kind of love one received. The thought both scared and exhilarated him. What was he supposed to do with this new knowledge? The question was still spinning in his brain when he fell into an exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rose walked quickly down the crowded sidewalk, her head bent forward against the breathtaking cold. Already, she longed for Virginia. She was sure she would never get used to the brutal winters of the North. Snow was mounded in great heaps along the sides of the road and the sidewalks. She had always loved the occasional white wonderland that descended on the plantation. This was different, however. There were no wide open spaces nearby to turn into a crystal fairyland. What lay on the streets and walkways was now covered with the gray grime of a coal-driven industrial society.
As the wind howled down the street, she pulled her jacket and scarf closer and continued to press on. A now familiar noise caused her to look up in longing. A horse-drawn car, moving easily on the railroad tracks the city had laid for it, was just moving up beside her. Warmly dressed people stared down on her as they eased by. They were traveling to other parts of the city, or maybe they were making their connection to the railroad station on the other end of the town. Rose swallowed her longing and flash of bitterness - all horse cars were off bounds to blacks.
She was gradually learning the rules of this new city she called home. Her dreams of equality had been shattered by the reality of distinct race divisions in the city, but if it had disillusioned her, it had also challenged her. Someday things would change. She shook her head and pressed on. She had housework to do as well as a heavy load of school work. The very idea caused her heart to lift and her legs to move faster. She was in school!
“Rose!”
Startled, Rose looked up as she heard her name called. Only then did she notice the carriage that had pulled up beside her. “Aunt Abby,” she said with a smile.
“Get in quickly,” Aunt Abby urged. “Your feet must be nearly frozen.” She gazed down with horror at Rose’s soaked shoes. “You poor dear!”
Rose shrugged and then stepped into the carriage. The sidewalks had not been as clear as usual after the heavy snow a few days earlier. She had tried to avoid the drifts, but large groups of whites moving down the sidewalk often meant she was forced to go through the snow. She had gotten used to it. “They’ll warm up when I get home.”
Aunt Abby shook her head. “I wish I had another carriage to provide you transportation,” she said regretfully.
Rose laughed loudly at the idea but appreciated the warmth that spread through her at yet another indication of Aunt Abby’s genuine affection. Impulsively, Rose reached forward, squeezed her friend’s hand, and ignored the pointed look of Aunt Abby’s white driver. “You are wonderful,” she said with a smile. “But the idea is really rather ridiculous. Could you imagine what people would think if a carriage were to deliver me to the Quaker school?”
Aunt Abby joined in her laughter but then sobered. “I’ll be glad when this horrendous winter is over. I hate the idea of you walking to school. And knowing that Moses is outside working...” She shuddered.
Rose laughed again, her eyes shining. “I am thrilled to be in school no matter how hard it is to get there. Besides, it’s much better than being consumed by mosquitoes and battling fire smoke in the little clearing in the woods on the plantation. You have no idea what a thrill it is to be able to carry books openly. To have sufficient paper to write on. To learn the things I’ve always yearned to know.” She paused. “And Moses. Yes, he is working hard and is mighty glad to come home at night, but at least he is now master of his own destiny.”
Aunt Abby looked at her fondly. “When you put it that way...” She paused, looking thoughtful. “I guess all of us who have a dream have to go through hard times to reach them.”
Rose nodded. Aunt Abby had told her of the hardships she had faced when she had taken over her husband’s business. “My mama always told me you have to work hard for what you want. Work hard and dream big,” she said softly.
Just then the carriage rolled up to Aunt Abby’s house. Quickly they stepped out and dashed up the stairs. The warmth that enveloped Rose as she entered the house was wonderful. She was still in awe of the coal furnace that kept the house warm at all hours of the day. Cooking on the gas stove was a luxury she had never even imagined on the plantation, where even in the big house cooking was done on a wood stove. And the idea of running water was truly a miracle; she had spent her whole life hauling heavy buckets of water from the well. She realized that not all Philadelphians lived the way Aunt Abby did - wealth was necessary to have these conveniences, but they were becoming more common.
“You have such a serious look on your face, Rose. What are you thinking about?” Aunt Abby asked.
Rose looked at her with a smile. �
��I’m thinking that someday Moses and I will own a house with all these wonderful things.” Even though she was smiling, her voice was firm.
Aunt Abby nodded. “I believe you will, my dear. I believe you will.”
Just then the clock struck four o’clock. Rose knew Moses would be home soon, starved from his long day of working in the cold. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it on the coat rack. “I’m going up to put on my other pair of shoes. Then I’ll get started on dinner.” She turned and walked lightly up the stairs to the room she and Moses shared.
Today, as she had every day since she had arrived, she stopped when she entered the room and gazed around. It was still a marvel to her. A large, four-poster feather bed with a canopy occupied the center of the room. Two Chippendale chairs flanked the fireplace, with the Currier and Ives print above it demanding attention as soon as one entered the room. A light blue carpet picked up the same color in the drapes that hung gracefully at the tall set of windows looking out over the busy street. It had taken them a while to get used to the rumble of traffic outside their window, but now it merged with the other background noises, and they hardly noticed it. Under the window sat her desk, where she did homework by her own gas lamp. A door to the side of the room led into their own washroom complete with a bathtub.
Rose shook her head as she took in the scene. She still felt as if she should pinch herself whenever she walked into this room. She had never imagined she would share in such splendor. The other slaves in the quarters had been so jealous of her tiny room in the big house. What would they think if they could see her now? Rose chuckled as she reached for her shoes. Her friends on the plantation would not even be able to imagine such splendor. You had to see it to believe it.
Rose changed her shoes quickly and dashed back downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Abby was already there, reaching into the icebox to pull out a container of clams. “What are you doing, Aunt Abby?” Rose cried. “I told you I would fix dinner. I’m sorry I took so long upstairs.”
