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

  Her father groaned. A tear slid down Coral’s cheek. Another prayer was sent heavenward.

  Time seemed to stand still before her ears grasped the sound of horses’ hooves in the distance. She rushed to her father and knelt beside him. “It won’t be long now, Papa. Mr. Williamson and the doctor are coming.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” Mama said. “Coral, please fetch more water from the creek. The doctor will likely need another kettle heated.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Coral jumped into action. By the time she got back from the creek, the doctor had arrived. He knelt beside Mama, who gave an account of the events.

  Coral shifted from foot to foot and chewed on a fingernail while the doctor worked.

  Time seemed to crawl again before the doctor spoke. “The leg injury isn’t too serious, just a dislocation that I popped back into place. I’ve stitched his wounds closed. He doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but we’ll watch him closely for the next two days. He’ll need several weeks overall to recuperate, but barring any infection, I anticipate a full recovery.”

  Coral took deep breaths. Tears of gratitude pooled in her eyes. She rushed to her parents’ side and took Papa’s hand in hers. Mama kissed Papa on the forehead. Circumstances had righted themselves.

  “Thank You, Lord, for Your mercy.”

  Coral turned to see Mr. Williamson at the table, head bowed in prayer. Touched by the man’s compassion, she wished to thank him, but didn’t want to disrupt his moments with the Almighty.

  “Can you help me wash these bandages, Coral?” Mama asked.

  “Of course.” Coral was thankful for the distraction from Mr. Williamson. She wiped her eyes before retrieving the tin pail, but hadn’t made it three steps toward the creek when Mr. Williamson’s deep baritone voice resounded in her ears again.

  “Allow me to assist you with that, Miss Martin. And when you’re finished perhaps we could go for a walk.” Josiah stood, hat in hand, and flashed a smile that could have melted the morning frost.

  “Thank you, Mr. Williamson, I’d enjoy that.” Coral pushed a wisp of hair from her eyes and tried to fan the heat from her face. Kindness emanated from this man.

  “You can call me Josiah.” He took the bucket from her. When his hand brushed against hers, a tingly feeling zipped from her fingers straight to her heart.

  “And you may call me Coral.” She hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in her voice as she spoke. Unable to form another sentence, she headed to the creek.

  The sound of Josiah’s footsteps behind her made her feel safe for some reason. When he placed his hand at the small of her back to maneuver around her, she stifled a gasp.

  He dipped the bucket into the flowing water and pulled it up with one hand. Coral noted his strong biceps and expansive chest. Of course he was muscled; he was a carpenter. So why hadn’t she noticed it before?

  Embarrassed, she turned away. What would Roland, or her parents, say? Thankful no one could read her thoughts, she hurried back along the path toward camp. She didn’t dare turn to look at Josiah, afraid her eyes would reveal her growing interest in him.

  After returning from the creek, Coral rubbed the bloodstained bandages against the washboard. Every time she rinsed a strip, she snuck a look at the handsome gentleman. He sat on the wagon’s bench seat and read the Bible to her father. The rugged carpenter might not be as cultured as Roland, but Roland wasn’t nearly as devoted to God as Josiah appeared to be.

  “I’ll cook dinner tonight so you can go for a walk around the meadow with Mr. Williamson,” Mama said. “But don’t go so far that I can’t see you.”

  “All right.” Now she was sure her parents intended to fix her up with the man. Did they have something against Roland?

  Later, after she’d hung the cleaned bandages on a tree limb to dry, Josiah offered his arm to her. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  “Let’s walk this way.” Josiah pointed down the road that led to town. “There is a lovely meadow a short distance from here. The trees are beautiful this time of year with the leaves changing colors. Perhaps we’ll see a doe or a jackrabbit.”

  “I’d like that.” Coral was grateful to get away from camp for a while. “As long as Mama can still see us. I don’t want her to worry.”

  A warm autumn sun cast shadows about them as they strolled past trees. Wild grasses bent and swayed in the breeze as if to wave to the heavens. Coral asked Josiah’s forgiveness for being short with him earlier. He readily extended it, which both surprised her and warmed her heart. Roland didn’t get over disagreements as easily as this man.

  Conversation steered toward Roland for a few minutes. She told Josiah about her friend Ashlynn in Annapolis too. He asked a lot of questions about them. She thought it odd that he seemed so interested in her friends, but assumed he was being polite.

  “You seem to know a lot of people.” Josiah chuckled. “My closest confidant is the storekeeper, Mr. Wilbur. He’s also the town’s postmaster.”

  A spark of excitement ignited in Coral. A postmaster? Perhaps she could get Josiah to take her into town so she could mail her letter to Roland. If she couldn’t get away, maybe he’d take her letter to Mr. Wilbur and mail it for her. But how could she convince him to do so and keep the deed a secret?

  Supper bubbled in a pot hung over the campfire when Josiah and Coral returned from their walk. He could smell the venison before he spotted Mrs. Martin.

  “Your father is sleeping in the wagon, Coral. Mr. Williamson, would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.” In spite of the cool temperatures, it warmed him to be around the lovely Miss Martin. He hoped his questions about her friends hadn’t raised her suspicions. After what Sam had said about the company she’d kept, he wanted to glean as much information about them as he could.

  First thing tomorrow, he’d stop by Wilbur’s store and pass their names along. If they were people to be trusted or feared, Wilbur would find out.

  He turned his attention to Coral. She placed the plates, cups, and flatware on the table and helped her mother carry the meal from the fire. He couldn’t imagine the well-mannered lady before him to be untrustworthy, but she could very well trust the wrong person and thus spill secrets without meaning to. He loathed the deception this line of work required, but until he was sure her circle of friends wouldn’t betray them, he would keep quiet.

  Josiah’s stomach rumbled. In all the hullabaloo that afternoon, they had missed lunch. He inhaled the aroma of the stew and took a big helping. His stomach growled again but proper etiquette told him to wait for the blessing.

  Since Sam slept in the wagon, Mrs. Martin did the praying. Afterward, Josiah took a large bite and noticed Coral smiling at him. His middle quivered. This beauty would be the undoing of him. He was taking a shine to her, no doubt, but feelings like that had dangerous ramifications. Bounty hunters were deceptive. They could trap her into divulging information and thus put freedom seekers in danger. How could he court her without her finding out about the work he did?

  “The food is delicious.” Josiah steered his thoughts elsewhere.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Martin replied.

  When he finished his meal he tipped his hat, said goodbye, and told the ladies he’d be back the next day to continue working on the house. It didn’t matter to him that he’d be working alone. The need to finish the structure pressed at him.

  The next morning, before heading to the Martins’ homestead, he stopped by Wilbur’s Mercantile and gave the man the names of Coral’s friends.

  “I’ll see what I can find out, but it’ll take me a few weeks.” Mr. Wilbur glanced around the building. Josiah’s fingers twitched. Sweat made rivulets down his forehead. Wilbur only checked his store when he had something to tell him.

  “What’s going on, Wilbur?”

  “A package has been lost.”

  “What do you mean ‘lost’?” Josiah leaned forward and placed his palms on the counter.

 
“I received word that a package was on its way here, but it didn’t arrive. I don’t know if the package had the incorrect address or if it was intercepted by the wrong party.”

  Wilbur pushed a poster across the counter as he leaned close to Josiah and whispered, “Patrollers were in here yesterday and left this. Sheriff Hansen knows about it too.”

  A wave of nausea slammed into Josiah as he read the wanted poster. His stomach convulsed. This poor soul ran loose in the countryside, lost, frightened, his life hanging by a thread. “Sheriff’s good people. He won’t stand for any packages being unethically taken, damaged, or destroyed.”

  “I know, I know.” Wilbur nodded. “But the man still has to uphold the law.”

  “Then we’ll have to locate that package and get it back on route before anyone else does.” Josiah stomped out of the store. He loaded his wagon with a massive amount of bricks from the supply outside the mercantile, many more than what was needed to build a fireplace.

  Anxiety filled him as he drove toward the Martins’ homestead. What explanation would he give any patrollers if they stopped him and asked questions about all the bricks in his wagon bed? He couldn’t very well tell them they would be used to build a hiding place for freedom seekers.

  He called to his horses and the wheels rolled a bit faster. Relief filled him when he arrived at the Martins’. Then Coral stepped from her family’s wagon and anxiety set back in. How would he keep her from suspecting anything if she was always underfoot?

  “Good morning, Mr. Williamson. Have you had your breakfast yet?” Mrs. Martin stooped by the campfire and stirred a large pot of oatmeal.

  “No, ma’am, I haven’t.”

  “Let me dish you up, and then you can start working. Coral agreed to walk with me to the meadow. I’d like to see if there are any dandelions left, and if we’re lucky we’ll find some wild chickweed.”

  “That sounds lovely, Mrs. Martin.” Josiah exchanged knowing smiles with the lady. How clever of her to divert Coral so he could work on the secret room in the house.

  He had hardly scraped the last bite of oatmeal from his bowl before Coral and her mother set out. All morning he worked as fast as he could. Deep satisfaction flowed through him as he slapped a bit of mortar around the last brick that made up the secret wall. If the mortar dried fast, he could build a wooden wall around it and Coral—and any nosy bounty hunters—would be none the wiser.

  Exiting the house, he proceeded to the wagon to check on Sam. Before he had the chance, though, Coral rushed into camp and nearly crashed into him.

  “Coral!” Josiah exclaimed.

  “Josiah.” She tugged at his shirtsleeve and pulled him away from the wagon. “I need you to mail this for me,” she whispered.

  Josiah read the address of the envelope she thrust into his hands.

  “I need you to keep it a secret, please.” Her beseeching green eyes held him captive, and before common sense had a chance to convince him otherwise, he nodded. She darted toward the meadow. Josiah groaned and turned back to the house.

  Brush rustled.

  Twigs snapped.

  A dark form crouching in the bushes on the creek path caught his attention. His heart paused for a few beats.

  Coral paused, pointing to the dark-skinned man emerging from the brush. “Who is that?”

  Chapter 4

  For two weeks Coral both wondered and worried about the man she’d spotted near the creek. All Josiah had told her was that the man, Amos, was a freedom seeker, recovering from exhaustion, malnutrition, and cut and bruised feet. He had taken Amos away from their homestead, and Coral had not seen Amos since.

  “Daughter, will you help me to the table, please?”

  Coral hurried to assist her father. He could get around camp now, but his legs were still a bit shaky. Mama added another piece of wood to the fire and stirred a large kettle of venison stew.

  Papa combed his fingers through his beard, as if to contemplate his words before he spoke. “We appreciate your keeping quiet about the freedom seeker, but we must have your word that you won’t do anything that would put him in danger. Sometimes it can be difficult discerning the intentions of those we call friends.”

  “Yes, of course.” Coral folded her arms across her chest. Granted, she hadn’t been involved in her parents’ abolitionist groups when they’d lived in Maryland, but she wasn’t about to gossip about her knowledge of the runaway, either. Papa and Mama should know that.

  “I mean it, Daughter. I don’t want you writing to Ashlynn or Roland and telling them about the man you saw. Is that clear?”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Papa. I won’t, I promise.” Tears pooled in her eyes. They didn’t trust her. Along with a sting of betrayal came a frightening realization. How far did her parents take their abolitionist views? Far enough to work on the Underground Railroad? She suspected as much from Josiah, but from her parents?

  A pang of guilt gripped her. They really wouldn’t trust her if they knew she’d asked him to secretly mail her letter to Roland. The only thing she’d mentioned in her letter was the weather and how much she missed him. Well, she still thought she missed him, although he occupied her daydreams less and less.

  “Samuel.” Mama turned to face them. “I have enough beans and flour to make meals for only one more day. A trip into town is necessary. Shall I ask Josiah to escort Coral and me?”

  “Why don’t we all go tomorrow?” Papa said. “I can get around well enough, and I’d like to speak with Mr. Wilbur, see if he needs any help with his postal business.”

  “And I still need thread for sewing, especially for my quilt.” Excitement stirred within Coral. The notion of shopping in town for a day assuaged any ill feelings she had about her parents not trusting her.

  “What about Josiah? Won’t he want to come with us?” Coral asked. Heat radiated through her at the thought of spending more time with him. She could get him to introduce her to Mr. Wilbur, and perhaps they could have lunch together. A blush tingled in her cheeks.

  Josiah was so kind. With the exception of Sundays, he had worked every day, from first light until dusk, for the past two weeks to finish their house. He even helped with chores.

  “We’ll ask him when he gets here in the morning,” Mama said.

  Coral drew so many buckets of water from the creek her arms ached, but at last enough water had been heated to give them all a good scrubbing. She didn’t neglect to use her lavender-scented soap. When she laid her head on her pillow that night, she envisioned all the shops in town. One of them had to carry sewing goods.

  She had no more than closed her eyes when the zing of an ax hitting wood jolted her awake. She recognized the happy tune Josiah often whistled.

  Coral kicked off her blankets, dressed quickly, and applied some of her lavender-scented fragrance to her wrists and neckline. Then she clambered down from the wagon.

  The first rays of sunshine peeked over the eastern horizon, coloring the sky with hues of pink and yellow. She paused to admire God’s brushstrokes against the vast canvas. In spite of the Creator’s handiwork, the morning air still had a bite to it. She shivered and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.

  “Good morning,” Mama said. “Josiah has been kind enough to cut firewood for us while your father harnesses the horses for our trip to town.”

  “Thank you, Josiah.” Coral smiled at the man who hadn’t even broken a sweat. He flashed a smile at her, nodded, and went back to work. Her heart skipped a few beats. A spot in her middle somersaulted like an acrobat. Roland never made her feel this way—or had he, and she just didn’t remember?

  Coral pushed the thought from her mind and helped her mother with breakfast. While stirring the last of the oatmeal, she snuck a look at Josiah. He stooped to gather an armload of wood then strode over and piled it near the wagon. Try as she might, she could not picture Roland working as hard as Josiah Williamson. For a brief moment she wondered what good qualities Roland had.

  “Coral, stir, be
fore it burns.”

  “Yes, Mama.” She scraped the wooden spoon against the bottom of the pot and tried not to gawk at Josiah.

  “I finished hitching the horses,” Papa said. “They can eat from their grain sacks while we have breakfast ourselves. Then we can be on our way.” He limped across the camp and plopped down on the bench seat. When everyone else came to the table, Coral bowed her head while he said the blessing. She asked God to give her wisdom.

  During breakfast Josiah turned to her father. “Sam, why don’t you rest in back of the wagon while I drive the team into town? I know the way to Wilbur’s Mercantile, and you’ve asked me to introduce you to him.”

  “That sounds fine,” Papa said.

  When breakfast was finished they climbed into the wagon and Josiah took the reins.

  Later, when he steered the horses onto Main Street in Newport, Coral squealed with delight. Overjoyed at being around civilization, she squirmed like a child in church. She craned her neck around for a better view of her surroundings. Her mind raced at the different parties she could have at the hotel once they were settled, perhaps. She couldn’t wait to write Ashlynn and tell her all about the town. Papa and Mama surely couldn’t be upset at that.

  Should she write another letter to Roland too?

  Josiah pulled the wagon up to Wilbur’s Mercantile. Thoughts of Roland sailed out of Coral’s head. She wanted to jump from her seat. The establishment wasn’t anything as grand as the shops in Annapolis, but she could hardly wait to see the inside. There had to be enough sewing supplies so she could finish her quilt. Josiah alighted from the conveyance and held out his hand to assist her as she climbed down.

  They strolled into the building, but not fast enough for Coral.

  “Afternoon, Wilbur.” Josiah began the introductions. “This is the Martin family I told you about. Sam Martin, his wife, Anna, and their daughter, Coral.”