The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War

by Barbara Tifft Blakey, Ramona K. Cecil, Lynn A. Coleman, Cecelia Dowdy, Patty Smith Hall, Terri J. Haynes, Debby Lee, Darlene Panzera

  Then he moved. She got ready to speak, but to her surprise, he stood, lifting her off the bench. He picked her up as easily as he would a down-filled pillow, and cradled her. She kept her eyes closed, her neck heating. She should tell him she was awake. She should, but this was a very enjoyable way to get to her boardinghouse. She let her head rest against his chest.

  She nearly broke her act when she heard her father’s concerned voice. “Is she all right?”

  “Yes,” Hiram answered. That one word reverberated through his chest and down to her bones. “She fell asleep in the middle of talking to me. I let her sleep for a while. She looked so tired. Then I figured she would be more comfortable at home.”

  “Put her in her room and her mother will get her ready for bed.” Winnie kept her face slack. Her father’s footsteps sounded on the stairs up to the loft where she slept. “That girl works too hard. She’ll work herself to death.”

  Oh, Papa. I’m working for a good reason.

  Her bedroom door opened, and Hiram carried her to her bed. He laid her down gently.

  “Thanks for bringing her home. Don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.”

  “Me either.”

  They left and quietly closed the door. Winnie fell asleep again with a huge smile on her face.

  Chapter 4

  Months of hard work. Winnie ran her hand over the star-point quilt that would soon join the others for Madison Plantation’s annual Quilting Day. A holiday of sorts. The slaves had cooked until the air around the boardinghouses smelled of fried chicken, a rare treat, and cakes. All the work on the plantation had been finished early, and soon the long tables set up in the clearing would be filled to overflowing.

  Owners of other plantations came to the celebration too. They would be looking to buy new quilts for their houses, and Winnie and the rest of the Madison quilters would have them in abundance. The profit they made from the scrap fabric quilts would often be the difference in weathering the colder months well or poorly. Winnie’s quilts often fetched a good sum of money. She used a little of her money to buy new fabric, but most of her quilts were made from Mrs. Madison’s castoffs. She would mend whatever she could use for work dresses, but the rest she used for her quilts.

  And she wasn’t the only one. The house women of Hampton House did the same, and sometimes they would swap fabric. Even though most of the quilts on display today would share some of the same fabric, Winnie’s would stand out. No one else could stitch as neatly as Winnie. She would share fabric, but she kept her sewing technique to herself, never sewing in front of the other women when they had quilting circle. She imagined the other women would laugh if they discovered that her only secret was sewing her quilts much slower than they did, carefully placing every stitch.

  She gathered up her quilt and carried it out to the trees on the edge of the gathering. A stretch of twine had been hung between two trees. Other quilts already hung there and she added hers with pride. She ran her hand over it. If she could get twenty dollars for it…She sighed. The quilt represented hours of her free time, her oft-pricked fingers, and many nights’ lost sleep. But, like the Bible said, her present affliction could not be compared to what was to come.

  She turned to find Hiram standing behind her. She let out a yelp.

  He dipped his head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You are awful quiet for someone so large.”

  He chuckled. “Not much out here to make noise.” He touched the quilt. “This is wonderful.”

  She felt her face heat to a blush. “Thank you.”

  They turned and walked back to the clearing. “I hate to miss this.” He had helped set up the tables for the celebration, carrying them from each boardinghouse and arranging them. Winnie had tried not to gawk at how strong he was, but it was hard not to notice. Even more fascinating, he would occasionally lift one of East Towson’s children into the air for a spin. Her heart soared at the sound of their laughter. How could someone so strong be so gentle-hearted?

  She touched his arm. “You won’t miss it all. Once the owners buy up all the quilts and the woodwork from the men, they’ll be gone.”

  He grinned. “I will be waiting.” He turned in the direction of the church. “Pastor Matthew asked me to help repair some pews in the church.”

  “I’ll come and fetch you when the owners leave.”

  Hiram nodded but didn’t leave right away. He shuffled from one leg to the other, hands in the pockets of his overalls. “I hope your quilt sells well.”

  “I do too.”

  “I’m gonna go now.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him. “The owners will be here soon. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  Winnie watched him until he reached the base of the hill where the Star of Bethlehem Church sat. His limp was almost gone. She smiled, but it quickly sank into a frown. His healing meant his soon departure.

  Winnie searched the crowd for her parents. There was still much to do before tonight. They would eat and dance, laugh and play games. Hints of a life they didn’t have, but one they longed for. Pastor Matthew had told them that during their captivity, they would have to be like the children of Israel in Babylon. They would build houses and dig wells, marry and have families. They would continue life even though they were slaves.

  Winnie looked forward to the day when her family would be free.

  A flurry of activity caught her eyes. The owners were making their way down the hill. Winnie moved closer to get a better look at their dresses. The women were done up finely. Mrs. Madison wore a deep blue cotton dress. Winnie’s mind raced with how that color would look paired with the gray dress Mrs. Madison had claimed was too small for her now. Those frocks might come to Winnie for next year’s quilts.

  Raised voices sounded across the clearing. Winnie turned and spotted Goldie, Thomas, Herbert, and several other men standing between the boardinghouses. Her father stood between them and the clearing.

  The men held hoes, rakes, and sticks. They appeared to be arming themselves for something.

  Too far away to hear what they were saying, Winnie could tell by their sharp gestures that their words were intense. Her father stood with his hands out in front of him while the others leaned forward, looking like they were ready to push him to the ground. The men pointed in the direction of the owners, but her father held his ground. Their tone grew louder and others turned and took notice.

  Papa. If they attacked him, he couldn’t withstand them all. She took quick steps toward them. She reached the edge of the clearing as the argument grew. As she passed the corner of the boardinghouse between her and her father, she heard someone call her name. She skidded to a stop when she saw Hiram standing in the shadows.

  Her feet stayed glued to the spot. “Papa.”

  “You need to stay out of it,” he said, his voice low.

  She took two steps. Before her feet could land for the third, she was lifted off the ground.

  She let out a yelp and fought the tight grip around her middle.

  “Winnie, stop struggling.” Hiram’s voice was at her ear. He carried her behind the boardinghouse and set her feet on the ground.

  “I have to get to Papa.” She tried to sidestep him, but he moved in front of her so she was looking squarely at his chest.

  “You can’t help your father against those men.” He grasped her arms. “Stay here.”

  She balled her fists. “I can help. Someone needs to talk some sense into them.”

  “Stay here,” he said again, and moved with more speed than she expected. He trotted down to the other end of the building, closer to her father.

  She obeyed for one second and then followed. She eased up behind Hiram and peeked around the building.

  “I told you to stay back there,” Hiram huffed.

  The scene in front of them had quieted a little, but not by much. Papa had somehow convinced the men to lower their weapons, but the air between them was still tense.

&
nbsp; “I won’t let you,” her father was saying.

  Let them what? “Move out of our way. Our fight isn’t with you,” Goldie replied.

  “You are making a mistake. This ain’t gonna go the way you think,” Papa said.

  Goldie took a step forward. “Move or we’ll move you. You are outnumbered.”

  Horror twisted Winnie’s stomach, but before she could act, Hiram did. He stepped out from between the buildings and moved to her father’s side. He folded his arms across his chest. Even though there were more men on his side, Goldie and the others shrank back.

  “Go away, big man. This doesn’t concern you,” Herbert said.

  “If it concerns Mr. Paul, it concerns me.”

  The men looked at her father and Hiram, who was standing at his full height, towering over Goldie. “You cannot stop this, Mr. Paul. And you should not try.”

  A familiar voice laughed, the sound carrying across the clearing. Winnie turned to see Mrs. Madison standing very near the other end of the boardinghouse.

  Winnie pivoted and headed directly toward Mrs. Madison. She pasted a smile on her face as she reached the woman. “Ma’am, let me show you which quilt is mine.”

  Mrs. Madison smiled and took Winnie’s arm, turning away from the boardinghouse. “Oh yes. Your work is always so lovely. I don’t know when you find the time to create such wonderful quilts. Such detailed work.”

  Winnie gave a quick look behind her. Her father remained but the men and Hiram were gone. “Thank you, ma’am.” As she escorted Mrs. Madison toward the quilts, Goldie’s words echoed in her mind. Cannot stop what?

  Tiny shoots of corn dotted Hiram’s little garden. The rest of the seeds he had planted still hadn’t sprouted above the surface yet. He bent down with almost no pain in his leg and pulled a few weeds. The day had been the warmest since he’d arrived, but the little garden needed his attention. He wouldn’t be here when it was ready to harvest. He would leave it behind.

  The thought unsettled him. Moving forward had been his top goal since he’d left Virginia. But two months at East Towson had weakened the urge. He’d never imagined there would be anything he would regret leaving behind other than his mother and brothers. But this little plot of dirt had crept into his heart and had begun to grow there. All of the fields in and around East Towson had grown on him. And the people too.

  He spent his evenings talking with Mr. Paul and Mr. Samuel. Despite the fact that they had worked all day in the field, their laughter was easy. The women of East Towson had become quite at ease in asking him to lift a table or repair a window. The children came running to him, begging to be picked up and twirled in the air.

  And Winnie. That was going to be the real regret. Celebrating Quilting Day with her, singing, dancing, and playing games, had been one of the best days of his life. She visited him daily after her workday—often exhausted to the point of falling asleep on her feet—but still she came. He felt like he was still in knee shorts when she praised him for how much progress his garden had made. She came to him smelling like sunshine. His heart sank when the day was over and she retired to her boardinghouse.

  He went inside and retrieved the bench from Mr. Samuel’s kitchen. Could he leave her? Did he want to? Did he have to? Not only that, could he leave with Goldie and the other men acting so strangely as they had on Quilting Day? Thankfully, they had left, skulking off into the woods before the celebration started. Hiram had tried to question Mr. Paul about the reason for the fight. With sadness in his eyes, Mr. Paul had told Hiram not to worry, but his words did little to ease Hiram’s concern.

  Like clockwork, Winnie arrived as soon as he placed the bench outside the boardinghouse.

  “Good evening, Hiram.” She looked at his garden. “Oh, look. You’ve got sprouts.”

  Her excitement made his heart soar. “Yep. There is good soil here. Not like it is in Virginia. We planted only tobacco there, and it was hard on the ground.”

  She knelt beside the plot and ran her fingers over the rows. “Mr. Samuel tried to get something to grow here for a while, but he couldn’t.”

  Hiram knelt beside her. “Sometimes plants just need a little more care. I hope he can keep them growing after I’m gone.” He looked at her to see her reaction and noticed the slightest pucker between her eyebrows.

  She stood and dusted her hands. “I wanted to ask you about Quilting Day. What happened with my father and Goldie and the men? What were they planning to do?”

  Hiram sobered. “I don’t know what they were planning to do.” He didn’t believe that they had intended to attack Mr. Paul. Their anger had been directed elsewhere.

  “I asked my father but he wouldn’t tell me what happened. Goldie said my father couldn’t stop it. Stop what?”

  Hiram pressed his lips together. He wouldn’t tell her either, but he would talk to Mr. Paul about it again.

  Winnie held his gaze for a moment then huffed and took a seat on the bench. “It seems you won’t be talking about it either.”

  Hiram sat next to her. “I thought you said they were always making trouble.”

  Winnie still didn’t look away, but her gaze grew concerned. “Ever since the logs, something has been off with them. Different. Worse than normal.”

  “I don’t think you should worry. The crews in Virginia got restless in the hotter months.” That was true. Heat made a man angrier and the weight of his burden heavier.

  “I wish I believed you. Goldie is known for his antics.”

  “How so?”

  Winnie turned her face to the fields at Madison House. “He—” She swallowed. “He convinced a bunch of slaves to run, including my father.”

  Hiram stilled. “Mr. Paul tried to escape?”

  Winnie nodded. “This was before Pastor Matthew arrived. They planned for weeks. My father was to run and then send for my mother and me. They didn’t get very far. Slave catchers caught them right outside of Baltimore.”

  “How did they find them so fast?”

  Winnie shook her head. “Goldie’s mouth can’t stay closed. He told several people at Hampton House and in the city about the plan. When those people saw the bounty Mr. Madison put on the runaways’ heads, they told the catchers everything.”

  Hiram squirmed. “What happened to the men?”

  “Some of them were sold. Some of them were whipped badly. My father…” She dropped her head. “My father nearly died. I was young, but I still remember Mama telling me to pray every night for Papa. That’s why he limps.”

  “Is that why you haven’t run?”

  She looked at him with surprise. “Yes. But that’s not my only reason.”

  “What is the other?” Hiram leaned forward. He had wondered why she hadn’t run. With the amount of liberty she had, it would be easy for her to walk away and never come back.

  “I am working to buy us from Mr. Madison. He promised that after I worked for him for another year, he would set us free. Mr. Madison doesn’t want my father around anymore.”

  “Because he tried to run?”

  She nodded. “Mr. Madison believes my father will start another uprising.” Hiram could see the tears in her eyes. “Goldie told Mr. Madison that the plan was all my father’s idea. Mr. Madison believed him because he doesn’t believe that Goldie is very smart. Mr. Madison thinks Papa will cause trouble again and watches everything Papa does.”

  Hiram resisted putting his arm around her. As the story flowed from her, her slouch deepened. Like the words were sapping her strength despite how strong she was. Working to free three slaves by herself. He knew his little angel was tough, but this was beyond what he’d imagined. “How much longer do you have to go?”

  “Another six months, four if I can get extra work after the harvest.” She sighed. “Hiram, my parents don’t know why I’ve been working so hard. Please don’t tell them, because they would make me stop.”

  “I won’t tell them.” Hiram frowned. “But are you sure Mr. Madison will let you go? What if he chang
es his mind?”

  The question seemed to knock the wind out of her. She looked away. “Mr. Madison is a kind master. He lets us work at other plantations to earn extra money. He gave his word.”

  Hiram grasped her chin and turned her face to him. “But you could be free right now. You could be free in the four days that it takes to get to Pennsylvania.”

  Winnie shook her head. “And waste all the years I’ve worked? Besides, if we tried to run and were caught, Mr. Madison would sell my father for sure. When we leave Madison House, we want to leave truly free and without slave catchers chasing us.”

  Hiram thought over her words. Buying oneself was surely a better way to gain freedom. If he had his papers, he could travel and work as a free man for hire and not live looking over his shoulder for the slave catchers. But that would have taken years. And his mother and brothers would suffer longer. That he could not bear.

  He inched closer to her. “I’m going to miss you when I leave.”

  She held his gaze, sadness in her eyes. Then she stood. “I have to go.” She rushed across the field to her boardinghouse. His heart hoped that her abrupt departure meant she was going to miss him too.

  Chapter 5

  The day working at the Madisons’ house passed in a blur of her unordered thoughts. Winnie fought to focus on her tasks, but Hiram’s words haunted her.

  What if he changes his mind?

  She’d never considered it. Mr. Madison had only ever been a kind master to her. But the truth remained that he was still her master and in control of her life. How much could she truly trust him? Winnie and her parents weren’t the only ones Mr. Madison had promised to free. Would he release them all at once and have no one to work the fields?

  As she mended shirts, her thoughts tumbled over themselves. Pastor Matthew had told them that some people in the world choose good and some choose evil. Sitting in their well-ordered parlor, she realized that she had always believed that the Madisons had chosen good. She believed they were kind people because they treated their slaves better than other owners. But they had chosen evil. They chose to make their slaves pay for their freedom instead of setting them free.