The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War
Page 6
These words came to her mind. “Be not overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.”
It was not the comfort she’d anticipated. “What do you mean, God? I’m being overcome with evil? What more good should I do? I confessed to Beulah and Mandy. You saw where that got me. And I’m not trying to punish Paul; I just want to know who has taken my place.”
Apollo began to veer off the road, but Emma checked him. Then she saw it was the same place he had pulled off with the buggy, and the little creek beckoned to her. She dismounted and led her horse along the worn path to the edge of the stream. As he drank, she leaned against the familiar hollow stump and continued praying.
When she quieted her mind and stopped arguing with God, she understood His words to her. Mandy and Beulah were wrong not to believe her, but God would have her forgive them and do good to them, instead of avoiding them and acting as if she were guilty. God had forgiven her at great cost; she need not ever claim that guilt again. In that gracious freedom, she could overcome all things by loving those who didn’t love her.
Even Paul? She dropped Apollo’s reins and covered her face. “It is asking too much!”
A gunshot blasted nearby. Spooked, Apollo reared. He galloped away, crashing through the brush along the creek.
“Apollo!” Emma’s heart pounded in staccato rhythm to the horse’s thudding hooves. He could hurt himself with the uneven footing or trip on the dangling reins. “Apollo!”
A man shuffled into the lantern light—unshaven, rumpled, and carrying a rifle. “Whoo-hoo! Caught ya, red-handed!”
Paul lifted his lantern to better see the stranger facing him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Caught me red-handed at what? Getting my cotton out of the night air?”
The stranger scowled. “You expect me to believe that? What kind of fool do you take me to be?”
“Look, mister, I don’t know what you think I’m doing, but I don’t want any trouble. I’ve used this barn for years on my way home—it’s a good place to water the mules, keep the cotton dry overnight, and get some shut-eye myself.” Paul climbed up on the wagon and took the mules’ reins in his sweaty hands. “But if you have a problem with me being here, I’ll leave. Like I said, I don’t want any trouble.”
The stranger blocked the doorway. “If’n you don’t want trouble, then you won’t mind me searching your wagon.”
“If you don’t want trouble, you’ll get out of my way.” Paul slapped the reins against the mules’ back. They stepped forward.
The stranger stood his ground. “I got the law behind me. Fugitive Slave Act says I can detain anyone I suspect is transporting slaves.”
“This wagon is full of cotton. If you think I’ve got runaways aboard, you’re crazy. There isn’t room for another pound of cotton, let alone a grown man—or a child, for that matter.”
The bounty hunter walked alongside the wagon, jabbing the barrel of his rifle here and there into the cotton bales.
The mules kept walking out of the barn.
“Why you in such an all-fire hurry to get shut of this place?” The stranger cradled his rifle in his arms and walked to the front of the wagon.
“’Cause all I want is a little sleep, and I’m not going to get it here.”
“Tell you what, you get down from the wagon, and we’ll have ourselves a little campfire. You can get some shut-eye. I’ll keep watch over the wagon for you.” The stranger snickered. “I’ll watch it real good.”
The false bottom was about a foot and a half deep. It was a terrible way to travel, but worse to wait. He couldn’t stop all night with a freedom seeker trapped in that small space. Nor did he want to give the bounty hunter any extra time to examine the wagon. The false bottom was well hidden, but not invisible.
Should he get off the wagon as the stranger said, or make a run for it?
A run for it with mules?
Yeah, right.
Emma fisted her hands. “Apollo, come back!” But the horse was nowhere in sight. Then suddenly galloping hooves splashed through the creek. A rider sped by in a blur, but she recognized the dapple gray. Mr. Steeple to her rescue again?
He returned with Apollo in tow. “I believe this belongs to you.” He handed her the reins.
“Thank you, again.” Emma felt her cheeks flush.
“You are welcome.” Mr. Steeple dismounted. “My own mount bolted. It was perhaps fortuitous you were not riding when the pistol fired. Whoever shot that gun should be horsewhipped.”
Emma drew a deep breath. She took this man’s appearance as a sign from God that she should seek his help. After all, he’d shown up twice now when she needed someone. This was a prime opportunity to request Mr. Steeple’s assistance to find Paul’s mistress, but it was hard to ask. She opened her mouth several times, but the words wouldn’t come. Her pride had caused her problems before. She needed to humble herself.
“Is there something on your mind, Mrs. Trebor?”
Apparently he had noticed.
“Yes, actually there is, but I’m hesitant to ask. It’s personal.” Emma stared at the ground. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. A voice cautioned her to be careful. She heard it and ascribed the warning as against her stubborn pride. She would humble herself. She would defeat pride.
“Mr. Steeple, I have reason to believe my husband is…seeing another woman. I fear it has been going on for some time, and I’ve determined to travel to my eldest daughter for a while to sort things out.” Her gaze remained fixed on the ground as she spoke. “But before I go, I want to know who the woman is. I’m not seeking revenge or any type of retribution; I just want to know who she is. Will you help me?”
The words were out. She could not take them back. But she did not feel relieved.
“Mrs. Trebor, I hate to ask this, but are you sure? What evidence do you have against your husband?”
Did she have to say? Yes. If he were going to help her, he needed something to go on. She told him about the late nights, his secretive ways, the hidden room, and the note she’d found. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
She bowed her head as she remembered the missing cash from the safe. “I cannot pay you in cash, but I have this.” She removed the clock pendant from around her neck—a present from Paul—and handed it to him. “The diamonds and rubies are real. I believe it has value.”
Uriah pocketed the jewelry without examining it. “I know this is hard, but I think I can help.”
Emma’s eyes lifted to his face then strayed toward the creek. Her gaze landed on the stump. “Oh! This could be the stump mentioned in the note.”
A worn trail led from the road to the creek, right past the hollow stump. Maybe all she had to do was wait. Wait and see who responded to Paul’s message.
Uriah Steeple grinned. Luck was certainly his friend. He had planned to spook the horse when he shot off the gun. Then he’d show up—a knight in shining armor to rescue her. He hadn’t anticipated the gullible woman would give him everything he needed to capture her husband—and pay for the privilege as well.
Paul got down from the wagon. “Looks like we got off on the wrong foot.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Paul Trebor. I came to Virginia to buy cotton and take it to my mill in Schenectady. I’ve been doing it for over fifteen years without any trouble. Now I know you folks here in Virginia have trouble with slaves running away and Northerners helping them. But President Fillmore hails from New York, you know, and without him, I doubt the Fugitive Slave Act would have passed.”
It galled Paul to put on such a show when he knew the danger this fellow presented to his freight, but what was that saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?
He kept up the friendly banter until the bounty hunter shook his hand. “I’m LeRoy. Sorry to make trouble, but there’s a regular highway of runaways escaping north, and I’m doing my patriotic duty to stop it.”
Paul rubbed the stubble on his chin. “If it’s as bad as you say, I might need to buy
my cotton someplace else. I can’t afford to be challenged every step of the way. Maybe I should try Kentucky.”
“You don’t want to do that. You can’t grow decent cotton in Kentucky. Virginia needs good folks to buy our cotton. Tell you what. I got something for you.” LeRoy pulled a wooden token about the size of a half dollar from his pocket. Carved in the center of the circle were the letters VPU.
“What does this mean?” Paul turned the disk over in his hand.
“Virginia Patriotic Union. If you get stopped, just pull this out and show them. You won’t have no more trouble. In Virginia, anyway.”
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Paul shook LeRoy’s hand again. Now wasn’t it just like God to take a dangerous situation and turn it around for good? If the token was worth anything, it could make his future trips south as easy as falling off a horse.
Paul waited for LeRoy to leave then hustled the mules down the road. Hours later, he stopped near a stream and let out his passenger.
“It’ll be best if you don’t sit within the light of the fire.” Paul handed him beef jerky and an apple. “I’m Paul Trebor.”
“I’m Samson, and thank you, sir. Sure do appreciate your help.”
“It’s an honor.” Paul settled against a tree trunk. The freedom seeker leaned against a wagon wheel. “You’re alone,” Paul said. “Are you leaving someone behind or meeting up in Canada?”
“Meeting up in Canada, except my woman probably thinks I’m dead.”
“You left together and got separated?” Paul breathed in deeply. This was a familiar story.
Samson nodded. “Yes, sir. I drew away the ones after us to give my Tabitha and the chilluns a chance to escape.”
“Did you say Tabitha? She have two children with her, Isaiah and Leah?”
“Yes, sir. How do you know their names?”
“I’ve seen her and the children. She told me you two were to be married in Canada.”
“Praise God, praise God.” Tears flowed like rain down Samson’s cheeks.
Chapter 12
Emma sewed. She made dresses and men’s shirts. She told herself as soon as she finished the one she was working on, she’d purchase serviceable material and make sturdy work clothes, but the nicer, prettier fabric always won out—even for the men’s shirts.
The letter from Charlotte arrived, welcoming her to come and stay as long as she wanted. Emma’s trunk was packed. As soon as she heard from Mr. Steeple, she’d be off on the next train. Hopefully before Paul returned home.
On Sunday, Emma went to church. Without Paul by her side, she felt vulnerable. Not even the women from the sewing circle returned her smiles. The Reverend Bachus was courteous as always, asking about Paul and news from her daughters.
As Emma headed downstairs to the basement with a bundle of new clothing, Reverend Bachus stopped her. “Mrs. Trebor, may I take that for you?”
“Thank you, Reverend, but it’s not necessary.” She shrugged. “I’m just adding to the collection for the poor.”
He edged past her and reached for the bundle. “I’m headed down anyway. I can take this from here.”
As she released the bundle, she had the impression the reverend didn’t want her in the basement. Why would he be heading that way, when his flock milled around outside waiting to shake his hand?
Suddenly Mrs. Linde was at her side. The same Mrs. Linde who had looked the other way when Emma smiled at her before services. “Mrs. Trebor,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for your many donations for the poor. You do have a flair with a needle.” She took Emma’s arm and escorted her back up the stairs.
God said to love her, Emma reminded herself. “I enjoy sewing, so it’s a blessing to me to be able to contribute.”
They reached the top of the stairs, but Mrs. Linde kept hold of Emma’s arm. “When will Mr. Trebor be back?”
“I think anytime.” Emma wondered at the attempt at small talk. What was going on? She allowed Mrs. Linde to walk her to her buggy.
“Good day, Mrs. Trebor. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon.”
Uriah had spent hours hiding behind a spruce tree on the opposite side of the creek from the hollow stump. Cold had seeped into his very bones, but his patience paid off. Just before sunset on his second day of surveillance, Joe appeared on the path. He watched the foreman slink toward the creek. He held his breath when the man’s gaze swept toward the tree. But Joe put the folded paper into the stump and hurried away.
Uriah counted to one hundred before he slipped into view, crossed the creek, and retrieved the note. “Eight bundles of wood. Presbyterian church. Pattyroller watching.”
Uriah’s grin grew. The message was easy to decipher. He now knew there were eight runaways hiding in the Presbyterian church, and just as important, they’d identified him as a bounty hunter. He’d overstayed his welcome, but he’d not leave without his prize.
It was afternoon when Paul arrived back in Schenectady with his load of cotton. Normally he’d drive straight to the mill and hide the freedom seeker in his secret room, but the station had been compromised, and after bringing Samson so close, he couldn’t risk it. He stopped at the path leading to the creek and retrieved the message from the hole in the top of the stump. It would let him know his next steps.
He unfolded the paper and read it. So a total of eight were hiding at the church. That was risky. The ships must be well watched not to have shipped out any packages. Maybe Tabitha and the children were among those still waiting. Wouldn’t that be a grand thing!
But what excuse would he have for stopping at the church with a load of cotton?
He’d have to bring Samson home with him. Hide him in the stables until dark, then get him to the church.
From the sunroom, Emma watched Paul pull in with the empty wagon. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him, but she quieted it. God was asking her to be loving, and she would. She’d ask her husband no questions. She’d be kind and gracious.
The wagon disappeared around the corner of the stable, and Emma returned to her sewing. She strained to hear Paul’s footsteps in the hallway. She knew he’d not come to the sunroom, but still she listened. Even so, she was surprised when he entered.
“Beulah said I’d find you in here.” He met her gaze and smiled.
Emma rose. “I hope your trip was successful.”
“Yes, very.” He stepped toward her. “I need to clean up and make a trip to town. When I return, I’d like to speak with you.”
Emma’s heart stopped. What did he mean? To tell her about his mistress? No, his face was too tender, his voice too compassionate for that. Had something happened on the trip to soften his heart toward her?
Now that was wishful thinking. First of all, he was cleaning up and going to town first.
Maybe she could go with him.
Dusk settled before Paul came down the stairs. Emma approached him in the hallway. “I have a completed garment to donate to the poor. May I ride into town with you? I could drop it off at the church.”
Paul’s eyes widened slightly, and he appeared disturbed. “I’m sorry, my dear. It won’t do just now. But I shan’t be long and we’ll talk.”
Emma stepped back. She pasted on a smile she did not feel. “Of course.” She watched him leave, her heart shrinking with each step he took away from her.
“Beulah,” she called. When her servant appeared, she said, “I’ll be leaving tomorrow on the first train. Will you make sure my trunk is ready to go?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And when Mr. Trebor returns, please tell him I’ve a headache and gone to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Uriah walked along the docks. Ships were preparing to sail, but as yet he’d discovered no sign of the runaways. He had considered charging into the church and arresting them on Sunday just to cause a scene and upset the do-gooders. But he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the look on the Trebors’ faces when each realized what the other had done. He chuckled to himsel
f.
Even though Paul would be arrested and have to cough up a large sum of money, possibly losing his mill, it would be Mrs. Trebor who would suffer the most. The foolish woman would blame herself the rest of her life for thinking ill of her husband and causing his demise. He rubbed his hands together in glee at the pain he’d cause.
And it would all happen today.
Sounds of horse hooves brought Emma to the window again. Had Paul returned so soon? He hadn’t had time to get to town, let alone come back home. Perhaps he’d changed his mind! Maybe he’d come back for her.
It was the dapple gray horse. Mr. Steeple. Probably coming with news.
News she no longer wanted to hear. Trusting God would protect her heart, not knowledge. She could no longer remember why the identity of Paul’s mistress mattered. It was better if she didn’t know, then she wouldn’t be able to picture them together. Nameless and faceless was better after all. Putting it all in God’s capable hands would give her the peace she sought. That’s what He was telling her. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Sneaking around trying to uncover secrets was not overcoming evil with good.
She opened the front door herself when he knocked. “Good evening, Mr. Steeple.” She did not invite him inside.
“Good evening, Mrs. Trebor. I’ve already asked your stableman to saddle your horse. I believe you’ll want to come to town with me.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Steeple, but I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to know the woman’s identity. But I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
“I see. Well, I still think you should come with me. There’s doings you’ll want to witness.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Steeple. I’ve a headache, and I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’ve a lot to do.”
She started to close the door, but Steeple reached through and grabbed her arm. “I insist you come.”
She pulled back, but his grip held. He dragged her onto the porch. Emma yelled for help. Screamed and kicked.