The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War
Page 14
Dahlia gave her head a defiant shake. “I can’t go back until I get the people to the tunnel behind your house.” She turned and headed back into the trees, and Edith and Wade followed.
In a clearing between the pines and a blackberry thicket huddled a man and a woman—the woman wrapped in a dark wool cape. Two other young men crouched near them. At the sight of Wade and Edith, every dark face registered alarm.
Wade looked at the man with his arm around the woman. “You must go back to Georgetown. There are slave hunters about.”
The man narrowed a suspicious glare at Wade. “And why should we believe a white man with South Mississippi on his tongue thicker’n molasses on bread?”
Edith stepped forward. “Because he’s with me and my father, and I run the station where you’re headed.”
Dahlia gave a definitive nod. “You can trust Mr. Beaumont. He’s my friend.”
Wade’s heart melted at the little girl’s affirmation, and he gave her an appreciative smile before turning back to the man. “You’re right, I was born and raised in Mississippi, but like Dahlia and Miss Applegate, I’m an abolitionist too.” It felt good to finally embrace the term he knew defined him.
The wary looks on the faces of the four began to fade, and the man who’d questioned Wade reached a hand out to him. Wade accepted the gesture of friendship. “I’m Sam, and this is my wife, Ida.” He cocked his head toward the two young men who looked to still be in their teens. “That there is Joe and Simon.”
Joe and Simon shook Wade’s hand in turn while Ida nodded her greeting from where she huddled beneath the pine tree.
Wade turned back to Sam, who seemed in charge of the group. “You can’t go on to Lancaster. I heard the slave hunters say they planned to search Mr. Applegate’s home this evening.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and glanced down at his wife. “Ida’s six months on with child. She won’t make it all the way back to Madison, and she’ll freeze out here in the woods tonight.” He shook his head. “We gotta go on.”
Frustration bubbled up inside Wade. “Did you not hear me, man?” He flung his arm out in the direction of Lancaster. “If you go on to the next station, they’ll find you and send you all back to slavery!”
“No, they won’t.” Edith’s small, calm voice broke in. “Father says the house has been searched several times in years past and no one was ever able to discover the hiding place. If they can get to the house ahead of the slave hunters, they will be safe.”
The clop, clop of horses’ hooves along the nearby road brought everyone to silent attention. As the riders neared, their muffled conversation became audible.
“I’m about froze. How much longer is it to that place anyhow?”
“Quit yer bellyachin’, Jake. Only about another mile, I reckon.” Jube’s voice jarred Wade.
When the riders had passed beyond earshot, a sense of urgency gripped Wade. He turned to Edith. “Do you think you can find your way to the house?”
Edith nodded. “I think so.”
“I can find it,” Dahlia said in a loud whisper. “I know I can.”
“Good girl.” He patted Dahlia’s cheek then turned back to Edith, a brew of emotions roiling inside him. “I think if I make enough racket I can lure them a mile or so away and give you enough time to get everyone into the hiding place.” He rubbed his hands down her arms as he gazed into her eyes. Too many things to say and no time to say them. “It’s in God’s hands now. All we can do is pray and trust Him to take care of us.”
Edith squeezed his hands, her smile as brave as it was encouraging. “The Lord has gotten us this far. He’ll get us the rest of the way home.”
The temptation to kiss her lips became too strong and he allowed himself one moment of bliss before turning to Sam.
“Sam, I need you to holler, ‘Come on, we gotta go this way.’ I’ll make a ruckus and head in the opposite direction. When you hear the slave hunters pass, hightail it to the house as fast as you can.”
Sam narrowed his eyes at Wade. “Why can’t you do the hollerin’?”
Wade swallowed and prayed he wouldn’t lose the man’s trust. “Because at least one of them will know my voice.”
To Wade’s relief Sam nodded and proceeded to follow his instructions. The next moment Wade heard Jube holler, “Come on, boys, they’re over there!”
His heart pounding, Wade jumped on his horse and headed southeast, thrashing through the thickets and underbrush with as much noise as possible. A moment later the sound of pounding hooves behind him grew louder. For the better part of a mile he managed to stay a few yards ahead of his pursuers. From time to time Jube would call out instructions to his men, assuring Wade that none of the slave hunters had broken away and headed back toward the house.
“We got ’em, boys!” The shouts grew louder—closer.
A gunshot echoed in the darkness, and something whizzed past Wade’s head. There was no way they could get a bead on him in the dark woods, but his thrashing could draw a lucky shot. His insides clenched at the notion that his brother and childhood companion might take his life.
The instant that thought formed in his mind, something struck the back of his shoulder with the force of an oak plank. Searing pain like a white-hot poker shot through his upper back.
“In here. Hurry!” Having sent Dahlia on to the house some fifty yards away, Edith directed Sam, Ida, Joe, and Simon into the tunnel that led to the cellar. “You’ll have to make your way through the dark, but the tunnel opens up to a little room with cots, food and water, a lamp, and a box of phosphorus matches.” At Sam’s nod she closed the wooden door and covered it with the cut elderberry bush Father used to conceal the tunnel.
Since they left Wade, the safety of Dahlia and the runaways had dominated her thoughts. Now as she neared the house, concern for the man who owned her heart gripped her. Two faint pops that might have been gunshots had sounded in the distance. Had Wade evaded Jube and the other slave hunters? Was he lying somewhere in the darkness hurt or…Tears filled her eyes as panic rose. She pushed it down. No, she mustn’t think such things. Wade had said they must trust God, so until she knew otherwise she would believe that God had led him safely back to Madison.
The night darkened as clouds obscured the light from the moon and stars. The intermittent flurries of earlier that day began again, increasing to a steady snowfall. She squinted through the milky veil at the welcoming light shining through the kitchen window. At least the new snow should obliterate any tracks that she and the others had made.
As she rounded the back of the house on her way to the kitchen door, something grabbed her arm. Her heart vaulted to her throat and she emitted a yelp that Wade stifled with his kisses.
The questions swirling in her mind, the whereabouts of the slave hunters and why Wade was here instead of on his way to Madison, drifted away with the falling snow as she luxuriated in the arms of the man she loved.
When he finally released her lips, she rolled her head against his shoulder and he groaned in pain.
Alarmed, Edith stepped back, out of his arms. “What is the matter, Wade? Are you hurt?”
Wade nodded and groaned again. “We need to get inside. I was able to give them the slip, but they could show up here any minute.”
Inside the kitchen that smelled of sausage, potato soup, and apple cider, Father greeted her with a warm hug and prayers of thanksgiving. Dahlia, seated at the table, smiled up from her bowl of soup.
Father took Edith’s wool cape. “You have them safe, then?”
“Yes, but Wade is hurt.” Edith fought the panic rising in her voice.
Frowning, Father turned his attention to Wade.
Wade winced as Father helped him off with his coat, and Edith stifled a gasp at the red stain spreading across the shoulder of his white shirt. “They got off a lucky shot.” He looked at Edith and grinned through a wince. “Or not so lucky for me.”
Dahlia dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clank.
Her dark eyes, growing to the size of half-dollar pieces, filled with tears. “Are you going to die?”
Wade smiled. “Someday, little one, but not tonight.”
Edith’s mind raced. If Wade’s brother and the other slave hunters found Wade shot, they’d know he had helped the runaways. Schooling her face to a calm expression, she turned to Dahlia. “Dahlia, you know where we keep the sheets?”
Dahlia nodded.
“Bring me a sheet and one of Mr. Applegate’s frock coats, please.”
Dahlia hurried off on the errand and returned with the items within seconds.
With Father’s and Dahlia’s help, Edith tore the sheet into strips, which she wrapped around Wade’s injured shoulder, staunching the bleeding to a faint pink smudge. She tied a final knot in the bandage. “Tomorrow we’ll send someone from the institute to fetch Dr. Morgan from Madison, but tonight you must appear unscathed.”
Father helped Wade on with the coat. “Do you think you can hold up, son?”
Wade, whose complexion had paled, grinned and nodded. “I have no choice.”
Three sharp raps sounded at the front door.
Edith, Wade, and Father exchanged knowing looks. Edith headed to the front room with Father and Wade behind her. She opened the door to a tall man in a heavy black overcoat and a felt low-topper hat.
The man doffed his hat, sending the scent of lanoline to Edith’s nose as she stifled a gasp at the crescent scar on his cheek. “I believe my brother is within. Jube Beaumont at your service, miss.” He glanced behind him where two men stood near the road with three mounts then gave Edith a toothy grin. “I do believe that is Wade’s horse tethered outside.”
“Brother.” Wade sauntered to the door. “What brings you out to the countryside on this snowy winter’s night?” The lilt in his voice held a convincing tone of surprise.
Something between a grin and a sneer twisted Jube Beaumont’s upper lip. “Tom, Jake, and I are on the trail of a bunch of runaways.” His gaze turned to a glare. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“So you told me back in November.” Wade shrugged, and Edith marveled at how he covered a wince with a grin. “Thought you’d headed back to Mississippi after we spoke outside Mr. Edwin Applegate’s home some weeks ago.”
Jube’s brow lowered. “Got sick. Laid up at the Madison Hotel for better’n a week.” His jaw jutted. “While I was there I heard it rumored that this place is a station on the Underground Railroad. Thought I’d come and take a look around.” He turned a dazzling smile to Edith. “With your permission, of course, miss.”
Father stepped to the door. “All manner of wild rumors swirl around the Madison Hotel, Mr. Beaumont. But you and your friends are more than welcome to come in and look around if it would ease your mind.” Smiling, he motioned toward the front room. “Please, come in and warm yourselves. We have hot apple cider if you’d care to partake.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Applegate. I believe we will.” Jube beckoned the men outside to join him. The three trooped into the front room, and Jube made perfunctory introductions.
Edith glanced at Wade and marveled at his constitution. If she didn’t know of his injury, she’d never guess he carried a bullet in his shoulder. He showed no sign of discomfort except for tiny beads of sweat breaking out along his hairline. She needed to get him off his feet.
She motioned around the room at the sofa, settee, and wing chairs. “Please be seated, gentlemen. Dahlia and I will bring you some hot cider.”
Jube shifted a narrowed gaze between Dahlia and Wade. “Isn’t she the girl I saw at your house last month? What’s she doin’ here?”
Wade emitted a soft groan as he lowered himself to a wing chair, but his brother and the other men did not seem to notice. “Dahlia will be staying awhile with Mr. and Miss Applegate.”
Alarm flashed in Edith’s chest, and she hurried Dahlia to the kitchen while keeping a keen ear turned toward the men’s conversation.
“Hmm.” Jube’s murmured voice sounded skeptical. “By the way, Wade, what are you doing here?”
“As you may know,” Father said, “your brother is employed by my family’s business. Part of his duties is to keep me apprised of financial reports.”
Jube gave a derisive snort as Edith and Dahlia returned to the front room, each carrying two cups of steaming cider. “Never knew a feller who loved numbers more’n my bookish brother here. Now me”—his voice turned sugary, and he gave Edith a rakish grin as she handed him a cup of cider—“I’m a man of action.”
“Speakin’ of action,” piped up the man called Jake. “Ain’t we gonna search this place for runaways?” He quaffed his cider in two loud slurps and pushed away a strand of dirty blond hair straggling into his face.
Jube took a sip of cider and set the cup down on its saucer with a clink. “Forgive my uncouth companion, Mr. Applegate, but the time is late. I wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.” He gave Father a cold smile that never reached his eyes. “We will avail ourselves of your offered tour now.” He looked at the man called Tom, and his voice turned hard. “Find the cellar and check every cubbyhole.”
Tom nodded as he ran curled fingers across his dark, stubbly beard, put down his cup, and headed to the kitchen.
For the first time alarm flashed in Father’s eyes. He rose. “I must inform you that this house belongs to the Eleutherian Institute, and you will be held responsible for any damages.”
Jube put a hand on Father’s shoulder. He glanced at Wade, who remained seated and looked even paler than before. “I promise you we will leave the place as we found it.” His grin twisted to a sneer. “Minus a few runaway slaves, perhaps.”
As Jube, Tom, and Jake scoured the inside and outside of the house, Edith prayed they wouldn’t discover the whereabouts of Sam, Ida, Joe, and Simon. The minutes dragged as she, Dahlia, Wade, and Father waited in silence in the front room.
“Nothin’ down there, boss.” Tom’s voice sounded from the cellar’s top step.
Jube emerged from Father’s bedroom. “They’ve gotta be here somewhere. Bob Rea said so.”
Alarm leapt in Edith’s chest when Wade began to close and open his eyes as if struggling to stay awake. Catching her look of concern, he rallied and gave her a brave smile and wink that touched a deep, sweet place in her heart. He shook his head and sat up straighter, and she stifled a sob imagining the pain that action must have cost him. She could trust this man with her life. She prayed he could trust her with his.
The front door opened, letting in a burst of snow, a whoosh of cold air, and the straggly-haired man called Jake. “Couldn’t find nothin’ outside.”
The three men gathered in the front room. Jube smiled at Father though his green eyes shone with contempt. “It seems there is nothing for us to find here, Mr. Applegate. Or your hidin’ place is more cleverly concealed than we have time to ferret out. Either way, we will take our leave.” He stepped to Wade, who now stood. How he found the strength to stand, Edith couldn’t imagine.
For once, Jube’s expression turned somber, almost sad. He put his hand on Wade’s bad shoulder and Edith held her breath, but Wade never flinched. “Goodbye, Brother. The invitation to come back home to Cypress Hill still stands.” Edith thought she saw moisture glisten in Jube’s eyes. “It’s too cold up here in the winter for our Southern blood.”
Wade’s throat moved with a hard swallow as he shook his brother’s hand. “I think I like it up here.” He glanced at Edith. “And I’ve found something to keep me warm.”
Jube laughed. “Take care, Brother.” With that he left the house, his posse in tow.
When the hoofbeats of the men’s horses faded, Wade collapsed to the floor.
Chapter 10
Wade!” His name came out in a strangled cry, constricted by the fear clutching at Edith’s throat. She sank to the floor beside him, tears flooding down her cheeks. She touched his face and pulled her hand back, horrified at the heat that met her fingers. “He’s
burning up.”
Father patted Edith on the shoulder. “We must get him into bed. You stay with him; I’ll get help. Dahlia, you go prepare the bed in the guest room, please.”
Left alone with her beloved, Edith felt her heart rend, releasing a bevy of prayers for God to spare his life. Grasping his hands, she crawled to heaven’s mercy seat. Please save him, Lord. Please, please…
The next moment Father appeared with Sam, Joe, and Simon. The three younger men carried Wade to the bed Dahlia had prepared. Edith and Dahlia sat at Wade’s bedside as he lay in a fitful sleep. Ida, who insisted she could bring down Wade’s fever, tied cloths filled with cut onions to his wrists and ankles.
“Never seen it to fail,” she said, giving Edith an encouraging smile. “Me an’ Sam, we owe our lives to all our angels along the way. ’Cause of folks like you and Mr. Wade here, our child will be born into freedom, not slavery.” She patted the mound beneath her apron. “Got to do all we can for our angels.” She grinned at Dahlia and cupped the girl’s face in her hand. “’Specially our littlest angel. Your ma and pa should be proud of you. I jist hope my child has half your spunk and courage.”
When Ida had left the room, Edith looked at Dahlia. While proud of Dahlia’s courage, she needed her to understand the gravity of the risk she’d taken. “You did a good thing, Dahlia, but you do know that what you did was very dangerous, don’t you? It could be you lying here injured instead of Mr. Beaumont.” She glanced at Wade and her throat constricted. “Your mother and father are beside themselves with worry, not knowing if you’re alive, dead, or on your way south into slavery.” She gave Dahlia the sternest look she could muster. “Promise me you won’t take off on your own again until you’re old enough to take care of yourself.”
Dahlia emitted a frustrated huff. “But I wasn’t alone. Sam, Ida, Joe, and Simon were with me.” She shrugged and toyed with the poultice tied to Wade’s wrist. “Besides, after what happened to Mr. Beaumont, I reckon Ma and Pa won’t let me lead people to a station again until I’m grown.”