The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War
Page 34
She slid down from her horse and hurried over to the wagon. “We have to hurry. Uncle Richard promised to stop the raid, but I don’t trust a word he says.”
Hudson jumped down from the wagon, and without thinking, he pulled Jorgine into his arms, his heart full of all the love he felt for this woman. She was everything he didn’t know he needed. Even with her hair in knots around her shoulders and her skirts torn, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. And if she’d let him, he’d spend the rest of their lives telling her so.
“How did you get away?” Sally asked as she clambered out of her seat. “That man was at your door.”
Jorgine leaned into him, nestling into his chest. “I shinnied down that dogwood tree outside my bedroom window.”
Hudson tightened his hold on her. “You could have broken your neck.”
“I know, but this is worth it.” She drew in a deep breath. “As much as I like this, we have to go. I don’t know if Win’s raiders are coming, but we can’t take a chance.”
The worry in her voice sparked him into action. Holding on to her hand, he slapped her horse’s rump then turned to the wagon. Sally was already across the road, heading in the direction of the house. “We have to make a run for it.”
Jorgine’s fingers tightened around his. “I can barely see.”
“Trust me. We don’t have far to go.” He pulled her into the forest, barely beyond a tall row of massive oaks to a small clump of brush. Letting her hand go, he pulled limbs and twigs away until he uncovered a short rope. He pulled the hinged top open then motioned for her to get in.
“What is this? It looks like a coffin.”
A man yelled in the distance. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to hide.”
She nodded then took his offered hand and sat down, fixing her skirts around her before lying down.
Hudson pulled the cover over them then joined her, wrapping his arms around her. “We need to be quiet for now.”
Jorgine nodded then burrowed deeper into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deep, the scent of moss and horseflesh and the clean scent of this woman curling around his heart. The sound of twigs snapping nearby caused Jorgine to lift her head. “They must be…”
Hudson bent his head and kissed her. To keep her quiet, he told himself as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When her lips went soft beneath his, he forgot all the reasons he’d kissed her save one. He loved her, more and more with each passing moment. He needed to make Jorgine his wife soon.
“There ain’t nobody out here.” A rough-hued voice broke them apart. “Iffen they were, they’re long gone by now.”
“I reckon you’re right, Dwight. Don’t like being out here in these woods anyway. Folks say Miss Lucille walks these woods at night.”
“That’s nonsense, Wib. Let’s get back. Maybe Mr. Emerson has something else he wants us to do.” Twigs snapped as the two men retreated a few seconds later.
Hudson turned over on his back, letting her go. “That was close.”
“I didn’t mind.” There was a hint of a smile in her voice.
“You didn’t?” He turned to her, though he could only see the shadow of her face.
“No, you were only trying to keep me safe.” She hesitated then continued. “Truthfully, I was too in awe of your abilities.”
“Well, I can’t take credit. I read that Indians build these kinds of caverns to pull surprise attacks.” He caught himself smiling. “I figured they might come in good use as a hiding place as well.”
“That was brilliant, Hudson, and I can see where they might come into use.” Jorgine found his hand and threaded her fingers through his. “But I was referring to the way you kept me quiet.”
Teasing little minx. His hand tightened around hers. “Sally told me what you did. We’ll find a way to get Piney Brooke back. It’s your home.”
“It wasn’t a hard choice to make. Not when I realized my heart wasn’t there.”
Hudson pushed the cover open then sat up, bringing her with him. Night encased them in a veil of moonlight. “Because you love me?”
Her eyes flew open, and he could feel heat flood her cheeks. “Where did you hear that from?”
“Sally says you’ve always loved me.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Is that true?”
Jorgine gave a tiny huff, but his fingers felt the soft smile on her face. “She could have at least let me tell you. And after I made a fool out of myself in front of you all those years ago.”
“I don’t remember it that way.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You gave me your heart, and I treated you badly. I thought I couldn’t work with the runaways and love you at the same time.”
“You loved me then?”
“Yes.” Hudson kissed her temple. “But nothing like I love you now.”
She stilled within his arms. “You do?”
“I always have, Jorgine.” Hudson leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. “I want to marry you if you’ll have me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck then leaned back to look at him. “I don’t have anything to offer you. Win took my dowry, and my uncle stole everything else. I’ve only got the clothes on my back.”
Hudson gathered her into his arms. “You have always been enough, my love. Just you.”
She pressed her cheek to his, her arms tightening around him. “Then yes, Hudson, I’ll marry you.”
Epilogue
July 1866
Mama, is this where the blueberry bush is?” Matthew Wallace turned from the window of the family carriage and glanced back at his parents. “You know, the one you and Papa talk about sometimes?”
Jorgine looked over at Hudson before shifting her attention to their seven-year-old son. The spitting image of his father, Matt possessed a thirst for history, particularly his own. She scooted to the edge of the seat to get a better look. “I’m not sure. I’d have to take a closer look.”
“Could we stop then?” The boy shifted his focus to his father. “Please, Papa?”
Jorgine glanced back at her husband. Eight years of marriage had only made Hudson handsomer to her. “What do you think, dear? Do we have time for a quick stop before your appointment in Abbeville this afternoon?”
He glanced down at the sleeping child lying next to him. “Ellie is still sleeping.”
“Please, Papa,” the boy begged. “I want to eat the same blueberries you and Mama ate when you were my age.”
Impatient just like his mother. “Darling, as soon as the carriage stops, Ellie will wake up, ready for a romp in the sunshine.” Jorgine shifted in her seat. “I would like to stretch my legs too.”
He tenderly pressed his hand into her lower spine. “You’re not thirsty, are you? I had the hotel pack some cold lemonade for us.”
Leave it to Hudson to remember her early pregnancy cravings. She leaned toward him so that only he could hear. “I’m fine; really, I am. I could just use a little fresh air, that’s all.”
“So you’re okay?”
He was always like this early on, so concerned for her and their little one. “Perfectly normal.”
“Yes, I know.” He pressed his other hand to her flat stomach. “I still like to pamper you a bit, especially now.”
“Are we going to stop or not?” Matthew asked insistently.
They exchanged a grin before Hudson rapped on the ceiling. “Seeing as your mother and I could use a walk, why not?”
Matthew did a little jig. “I can’t wait to see the blueberries. Do you think we could pick some to take with us?”
“Maybe, but we can’t stay long. Papa has a meeting with the mayor this afternoon.” Jorgine pushed her son’s unruly hair out of his eyes. “Understand?”
He nodded, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Jorgine turned to find a similar expression on her husband’s face. The carriage had barely come to a stop before Matthew was out the door, closely followed by Hudson. She smiled. Men were just little boys at hear
t, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Mama? Where are we?”
Jorgine knelt down beside her younger child as she rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes. She kissed Ellie’s soft cheek as she pushed her golden curls away from her face. “Papa and Matthew are picking blueberries. Would you like to join them?”
Ellie clasped her hands together. “Booberries? I love booberries!”
“I do too.” Retrieving the child’s bonnet, she placed it on her head then tied the ribbons. “But there are rules. You must stay close to either me or your papa.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good girl.” She helped Ellie to her feet then shuffled to the door. “Wait until I’m down the step; then I’ll turn around and help you down. Okay?”
Her golden curls bounced in agreement.
As she turned, she found Hudson waiting for her, his hand outstretched to her. “I’m sorry, my love. Matthew’s excitement got the better of me.” Once she was safely to the ground, he caught Ellie up into his arms. “I’m very sentimental about blueberries.”
Jorgine took his free arm. “And why is that?”
“Well, I once asked a very beautiful lady to meet me here, even though I wasn’t certain of her intentions.” He glanced down at her, his gaze softened by love. “You see, she was engaged to a very disreputable gentleman.”
“I wouldn’t call him a gentleman by any means,” Jorgine answered, drawing closer to Hudson. “Gentlemen don’t turn tail and run in the midst of battle and leave good men to die.”
“No.” Hudson went quiet for a moment as he often did when talk of the war came up in conversation. As a lieutenant in the Ohio Second Division, he had witnessed the destruction and carnage war inflicts upon its victims. It had been difficult on Jorgine too. Only her work with the runaway slaves and prayer had kept her from constant worry.
Finally, he shook his head. “Anyway, the lovely lady I met.”
“Was that Mama?” Ellie asked around the thumb in her mouth.
“Why, yes, it was!” Hudson gave his daughter a kiss on her forehead. “When your mother gave the shawl she was wearing to a young girl in need, I knew she held my heart.”
“Just like a princess in one of my books!” Ellie exclaimed.
Hudson smiled down at Jorgine. “Yes, darling girl, just like that.”
As they walked across the battle-scarred field, Jorgine mourned the drastic changes. Large craters had been plowed out of the earth by cannon fire and men desperate for cover. The once lush oaks that had provided them shelter in their underground days stood bare and riddled with bullet holes. “I didn’t realize the fighting came this close to Abbeville.”
“I’d heard rumors,” he answered quietly. “But I had hoped it wasn’t this bad.”
“Do you know anything about Piney Brooke?” Though her home was wherever Hudson was, Jorgine had found herself thinking more of her childhood home since learning they would return to Abbeville. The thought of it being damaged or, worse still, destroyed pained her more than she’d thought it would.
“When the area fell to the Union, the officers used it as a regional headquarters until the end of the war. Your uncle couldn’t pay the back taxes from his prison cell, so it was put up for auction last month.” Hudson lowered his wiggling daughter to the ground then took Jorgine’s hand. “I believe the new owners are repairing it now.”
Jorgine’s heart sank. With their move to the area while Hudson served as President Johnson’s envoy during Reconstruction, she’d hoped…“Do you know who these new owners are?”
Hudson bent down and brushed a kiss against her temple. “We are, my love.”
She blinked in surprise. “Truly?”
She felt his smile against her hair. “After we’re finished remodeling, I thought you might like to ask Sally and her family down for a visit. I’m sure she’d like to show Robert and the children where she grew up.”
Unable to hold back, Jorgine threw her arms around her husband. “Thank you.”
A husband who loved her, healthy and happy children, a life of purpose—God had truly blessed her, more than she ever deserved. Hugging Hudson’s arm, she smiled up at him. “Let’s go pick some berries with our children.”
A multipublished author with Love Inspired Historical and Barbour, Patty Smith Hall lives in north Georgia with her husband of over thirty years, Danny; two gorgeous daughters; her son-in-love; and a grandboy who has her wrapped around his tiny finger. When she’s not writing on her back porch, she’s spending time with her family or reading on her front porch swing.
Free to Love
by Terri J. Haynes
Chapter 1
East Towson, Maryland
1850
Pounding jarred Winifred from the hold of a deep sleep. She bolted upright, sending a quick glance to the still-dark windows. A breeze rustled through the trees surrounding the boardinghouse where she made her home, but other than that, quiet. The fields beyond her window lay shrouded in night. She blinked. Not a hint of warming sun. Her duties at Madison Plantation required that she wake early, but it was still too early to rise for the day. Which meant…
The pounding came again, and she rose, quickly putting on a dark gray cotton dress, praying all the while. Once she answered the door, she would not have time to think about anything other than the task before her. She laced her second boot, grabbed a dark scarf to cover her head, and reached for the door. As she opened it, she snatched up the most valuable tool she would need for the moments ahead: a small, worn notebook.
Her mother stood on the threshold, face grim, hand raised to pound on the door again. She lowered her hand and took Winnie’s. “Did you hear it?”
Winnie shook her head, needing the movement to clear her head a little more and push away the exhaustion she felt.
“Gunshots.” Her mother did not have to say why. They descended the stairs as quickly and as quietly as they could. Another night, another risk. Lord, let us not be too late. Winnie’s mind imagined birds in flight, soaring above the trees and to their destination. Swift and silent.
Outside, her father, the plantation’s overseer, stood with a lantern. “We need to hurry.” As they rounded the boardinghouse, he blew out the lantern. They did not need the light. They knew the way even in the darkness, but the moon had shown up to help in their trek, peeking in and out from behind passing clouds.
The night muted their journey through the woods to the Star of Bethlehem Church that sat at the top of a hill on the west side of East Towson. No one spoke but the crickets, frogs, and owls. Winnie often imagined them engaged in lively conversation with their chirps and croaks. Maybe discussing the folks who traveled through the woods’ shadows. People looking for freedom that nature already possessed. What would they be saying about Winnie and her parents? Leaving the rest of East Towson’s slaves asleep, going to the church to help other souls who risked their lives by running away and entering the wild darkness?
Well done, My good and faithful servants. If her owners knew what she was doing…But that was a risk she had to take.
The church, a simple wooden structure with a row of windows, looked out on the East Towson community and the rest of Madison Plantation. It stood guard, speechless but watchful. As Winnie and her parents reached the stairs leading to the front door, a lamp inside gave off the faintest flicker. Winnie frowned. Fugitive slaves were normally immediately moved to a small root cellar beneath the church. When the door opened, Pastor Matthew’s drawn face greeted them. “He is in the back.”
Winnie removed the wrap from her head. “Not downstairs?”
Pastor Matthew shook his head. “Another group of fugitives arrived earlier today. And he is injured.”
Ma sucked in a breath. “Bad?”
Pastor Matthew gave them a sad look as they passed through the door. Winnie inhaled, searching for calm as her mind filled in what Pastor Matthew had not said. Her father remained outside as a lookout. He disappeared into the sha
dows with swiftness despite his crippled leg.
The faint light gave the church a glow, casting shadows in every corner. Winnie had never gotten used to being in the church after dark. Always so full of life on Sunday mornings. Children laughing, songs sung, praises given, and downcast hearts lifted.
She somehow expected to find the same when she and her parents came for their late-night tasks. But in a way, what they were doing was an act of worship. They would help bear the weighty burden of some broken soul. Someone would know that they were not alone in their struggle for freedom. But in another way, it was an act of disobedience that could cost them dearly.
Pastor Matthew kept his quick pace but spoke over his shoulder as he led them through a back passage. “It looks as though he has been on the run for a while. Up from Virginia. Slave catchers followed him.”
Fear seized Winnie, and she almost faltered. Slave catchers were ruthless and determined. They would tear through a town looking for their quarry. Sometimes, when they failed to find the runaway slave, they would instead round up any free blacks they found. Some slave catchers applied to the Madisons if they thought the fugitive they sought was nearby. To be chased by a slave catcher increased the danger, fear, and, in Winnie’s heart, compassion. The poor man in Pastor Matthew’s office had compounded sorrows upon him.
Pastor Matthew opened the door, and Winnie and her mother entered first. The lamp was a little brighter here. Winnie had to pause and let her eyes adjust. And her heart. She clutched her notebook, bracing herself for the pain. Always the pain. It was the hardest thing to deal with, but it was what she and her parents always found. Physical or spiritual pain, most often both.
In the corner of the room, next to a small table Pastor Matthew used for a desk, was a man lying on the cot Pastor Matthew kept there.
Well, not quite on the cot.