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

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilbur.” Coral dipped a haphazard curtsy to the man then darted to the fabrics and threads stacked against the far wall. She ran her fingers over the smooth cotton plaids and dreamed of the many hexagons she’d cut from all the floral prints and multicolored ginghams. While picking out the right shade of blue to finish the current piece she worked on, the hushed words of the store owner gripped her attention.

  “I’ve been able to repair most of the damage to the package, but someone unfriendly without a claim slip tried to confiscate it. We have to ship it north, and soon, before they come back, or the package will be lost forever.”

  Something like lightning zipped through Coral.

  She knew what they were talking about.

  Josiah stepped into the back room of the store. Amos, the lost package that had been found at the Martins’ homestead, crouched against the wall. The man clutched a threadbare blanket but was obviously ready to bolt up and fight if danger appeared.

  He and Wilbur had worked hard to nurse Amos back to health. The bruises and gashes on his feet had almost healed. The ragged marks crisscrossing his back would be there forever, as would the scars to his mind, but Amos was strong.

  Josiah didn’t wish to break the fragile trust between them. It had taken Amos three days to regain consciousness after he and Coral spotted him by the creek. Hunger and exhaustion would do that to a man, but Amos hadn’t given up. Thanks to some herbal medicine, the fever had broken and he was on his way to recovery.

  “I brought you a new pair of shoes.” Josiah knelt and held the footwear out to the determined freedom seeker.

  “Thank you, sir.” Amos’s ebony eyes were keenly fixed on Josiah. The man reached for the footwear, held them up, and looked them over. “I’ll surely get to freedom with these.”

  Josiah wondered if Amos had ever owned a pair of shoes. A lump formed in his throat.

  “Let me see about getting you something to eat.” He stood, strode from the room, and shut the door behind him.

  He stormed to where Wilbur stood and said, “That parcel is ready to be shipped. We need to move it today.”

  “I know that, but Levi has too many packages to process at the moment. Folks showed up at his house looking for this package in particular, so he sent it here,” Wilbur said. “He’s delivering a wagonload of hay bales to some friends up north sometime soon. He’ll take it then and make sure it’s safely delivered.”

  Turning to Sam, Josiah said, “Your house is finished enough. You folks need to move in soon.”

  He paced the distance along the counter. He noticed Coral standing by the window, a large spool of thread in her hand, eyes as big as two tin plates. Her silence frightened him. Why hadn’t he thought to make sure the coast was clear before spouting off? Because it angered him to see freedom seekers stuck in limbo while waiting for logistics to get worked out.

  “We’ll move in first thing tomorrow,” Sam declared. Josiah watched his friend nod at his wife and daughter.

  Coral took slow steps as she moved to the counter and placed her spool of thread on it.

  He gulped. She could betray them all, but would she?

  She nodded at her parents, determination on her face. Elation washed over Josiah. Glory be! This spunky gal was on their side.

  Wilbur cleared his throat and said, “Let me get my ledger so I can tally up your order, Mr. Martin.”

  Josiah and Sam discussed the latest issue of William Lloyd Garrison’s The Liberator while Coral and Mrs. Martin finished their shopping. For a few wonderful minutes, a semblance of normalcy returned to the store. Josiah felt his muscles relax.

  The bell hanging over the door jangled when Sheriff Hansen strolled inside. A man dressed in a fancy suit, with a fancier cravat, followed him.

  “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, Wilbur, but this man says he needs to have a word with you.” Hansen leaned against the door, not bothering to make introductions.

  Uneasiness gripped Josiah as he watched the man look down every aisle of the store. The aroma wafting from his cigar filled the air. Josiah’s jaw muscles tensed when the scoundrel smiled, tipped his hat, and bowed at Coral and her mother.

  “I’m sorry to bother you folks on this fine afternoon, but I’m looking for this here runaway.” He flashed a poster for them all to see.

  Nausea churned in Josiah’s gut and the fine hairs on the nape of his neck rose.

  The sketch on the poster resembled Amos.

  Chapter 5

  Giddy with excitement at moving into their new home, Coral hefted one end of her trunk while Josiah held the other. Together they carried it into the house and up the stairs. Josiah stopped at the door to her room and set the trunk down. She understood his hesitancy to go further. It wasn’t proper for a man to enter the bedchamber of an unmarried lady.

  “Thank you,” Coral said. Her cheeks warmed. She told herself it was from the exertion of carrying things into the house, but she knew better. She had to fan the heat from her face nearly every time she conversed with the strong carpenter. Was that a blush she noted on his cheeks as well?

  “You’re more than welcome, and thank you kindly for distracting that bounty hunter so Wilbur and I could hide Amos.”

  “It was the only humane thing to do. Besides, what Papa said at the store is true; he heard it straight from Levi Coffin. Bounty hunters can’t search your property without first obtaining a search warrant.”

  “You don’t know how much it pleases me to see you advocating for the freedom seekers.” Josiah swiped at a lock of blond hair that fell in front of his eyes and flashed a smile as bright as the morning sun.

  A drop of sweat rolled down Coral’s temple. Half mortified, she cleared her throat and opened the trunk in search of a fresh handkerchief. The scent of lavender wafted up to tickle her nostrils. She paused before digging into her things. What was she thinking? She couldn’t unpack her unmentionables in the presence of a man, and it would be rude to tell him to leave.

  Josiah coughed and tipped his head toward the ceiling and then to the floor. “If you’ll excuse me, Coral, I need to help your father plan the next leg of Amos’s journey.” He stepped away. His footsteps echoed in her ears as he clomped down the stairs. Then she heard him speak to Amos.

  “We’ll be moving you soon. Until then, eat heartily and get some rest.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Williamson.”

  Respect for the weary freedom seeker flooded through Coral. How brave these people must be. They risked their lives for a chance at a better life. In that moment she knew she’d do anything to ensure the safety of those who knocked on her door for help.

  At one point she had doubted her father’s decision to move to Indiana, but perhaps the Lord had brought her family here after all.

  Days in Annapolis had been filled with parties, fancy dresses, and carriage rides through the city. She hadn’t realized how empty those days had been. But this place, this place, held something different. Something she hadn’t sought before. Something that stirred her spirit.

  Purpose.

  A chance to fuel hope in the oppressed, a chance to serve those in desperate need.

  “What an honor, Lord,” she whispered. “Thank You for the opportunity.”

  A flush crept into her cheeks again, and this time it had nothing to do with the kindhearted carpenter. Her heart beat a tad faster. She let out a giggle. Life in Indiana was going to be all right. She hummed her favorite hymn while unpacking.

  Delighted with her new bedroom, she hung up her dresses and spread a heavy coverlet over her bed. Tomorrow she would sew the last few hexagons into her quilt and begin working on the trim. Soon it would be finished, although she didn’t know what purpose it would serve. She doubted she and Roland would ever be together. That wasn’t what she wanted anyway, not anymore.

  “Please, God,” she prayed, “let this quilt be used to bring glory to Your name.”

  Mama’s voice drifted up the stairs as she offered
Amos a bowl of hot stew. A prayer for the man’s safety flew from Coral’s lips.

  The tiny crawl space nestled behind a bookcase next to the fireplace wasn’t very big, but it provided a good place to hide if bounty hunters came looking for him.

  Coral’s thoughts once again turned to Josiah. He had compassion and a willingness to serve that Roland didn’t. She harrumphed, her mind made up. “First chance I get, I’ll write him another letter and tell him I’m staying put.”

  From the depths of her trunk, she pulled another bottle of lavender fragrance and a doily she had tatted. She placed the doily on her dresser and set the glass bottle on top.

  Before she could admire the effect, the sound of hoofbeats thundered from the front yard below. A commotion resounded from the kitchen. Her heart jerked.

  Hiking up her skirts, she rushed down the stairs. She rushed into the living quarters in time to see Papa and Josiah scoot the bookcase back into place. Amos was hidden. Good! She exhaled with relief, but who had arrived?

  “Papa, who is it?” she cried. Fear skittered across her skin. She heard the rider dismount. Mama reached out and grasped her hands.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “Martin, open up!”

  “It’s Wilbur,” Josiah exclaimed.

  Papa flung the door open.

  “I just heard from a stationmaster up the road,” Wilbur said. “That bounty hunter has obtained a search warrant and is on his way back into town.”

  “How much time do we have?” Papa asked.

  “A quarter of an hour, maybe, and this time he has bloodhounds with him. We have to get Amos out of here, now!”

  Josiah let out a low whistle then smacked his fist into his palm. “God have mercy. Those bloodhounds will smell him a mile away. They’ll catch him for sure.”

  “Well, we can’t sit here and do nothing,” Papa said. “I’ll hitch the horses and get the wagon ready.” He grabbed his hat and a lantern and hurried from the room.

  “I’ll help you.” Wilbur followed Papa.

  “I’ll pack some food.” Mama turned toward the kitchen.

  Coral stood still, seemingly rooted to the floor. She watched Josiah pace the room. He stopped in front of the fireplace.

  “Jesus, please spare Amos. Show me what to do, Lord,” he prayed.

  “Oh, I have an idea.” Coral ran up the stairs, grabbed her lavender bar of soap and bottle of fragrance, and ran back downstairs.

  “We can use these.” She held the items up for Josiah to see.

  A perplexed expression covered his face.

  She grinned at him and then explained. “Help me get him out of the hiding spot. We can wash him real quick with my lavender soap and then spray him with my lavender perfume. That should throw off the bloodhounds, shouldn’t it?” She hoped, prayed.

  A smile creased Josiah’s face. He laughed aloud. “Coral, you’re a smart young lady.”

  Together she and Josiah moved the bookcase. Amos stepped from the tiny space. A wildness flashed in his eyes. This man looked ready to fight for his freedom. Something flashed in Coral as well. If need be, she too would battle the principalities of darkness for the sake of this man.

  “Don’t worry, Amos,” she said. “We’re going to take care of you. That is, if you don’t mind smelling like lavender.”

  “Smelling like a lady beats a lashing from the whip.” Amos tugged off his shirt.

  Coral splashed water from the kettle onto a few rags. She and Josiah scrubbed Amos. Agony throbbed in her chest as she wiped the cloth over the ragged scars on his back. A lump formed in her throat so thick it hurt to breathe. She had to look away.

  The cruelty that blinded some folks both saddened her and made her angry. Coral gritted her teeth and continued to wash Amos’s back.

  Papa and Wilbur burst through the back door.

  “The wagon’s hitched. Is he ready?”

  “Just a moment, Papa,” Coral said.

  Josiah helped Coral rinse the soap off Amos and dry him with towels.

  Mama appeared and handed a garment to him. “Here’s a clean shirt.” Amos wiggled into it with amazing speed.

  “One last thing.” Coral yanked the stopper off her perfume bottle. She doused Amos with the fragrance. “Lord Jesus,” she prayed, “let it be enough.”

  “If anyone asks you about the scent of lavender, tell them it’s from this.” Coral held up a lace-trimmed handkerchief to Josiah.

  Their fingers touched when he took it. Warmth swept over him. Did she feel it too? The fire flashing in her emerald-green eyes told him it was possible.

  “Now go, go!” She gave him a shove. He ran from the house and out into the backyard, by the barn.

  “Hurry, man, hurry,” Wilbur implored. “I can hear the hounds.”

  Josiah stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket. He helped Sam and Wilbur move hay bales over the secret compartment in the back of the wagon. Fear chomped at his heart, but he managed to wrestle it into submission. Never had he been this close to getting caught with a freedom seeker. He shuddered to think what would happen if someone wanted to search the wagon.

  It wasn’t time in jail that frightened him the most. He was sturdy and could afford to pay any fines. It was the thought of the freedom seekers being dragged back to cruel masters that sent waves of terror coursing through him.

  Josiah leapt onto the wagon seat. “I know where the next station is. You two hold off the bounty hunters.”

  “I’ll keep them searching the house as long as I can. Godspeed to you, man,” Sam called over his shoulder as he limped toward the house.

  “With God’s mercy, we’ll make it to the next station without getting caught.” Josiah prayed Coral and her mother had the sense to burn anything Amos left behind, anything that might point to his having been in the house.

  Josiah snapped up the reins and called to the horses.

  The animals took off at a gallop.

  Chapter 6

  Mama tossed pieces of dry wood onto the fire. The flames sizzled and popped as they burned all the evidence of Amos’s stay with them. Coral rushed upstairs to hide her now empty lavender perfume bottle and the remnants of her soap.

  Her lacy nightgown lay across her pillow. She seized it, along with a spare petticoat she’d mended earlier, and stuffed them into her trunk. The thought of those rough men searching her bedroom made her nauseous. Then she thought of Amos and shook her head. It was selfish to think only of one’s self at a time like this.

  Coral steeled herself and hurried back down the stairs. She’d delay those brutes for as long as possible, and if that meant allowing them to search her room, then so be it. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she smiled and nodded at Mama.

  The racket of baying hounds echoed in the night.

  Fear punched her in the stomach. She pursed her lips. What little faith she had. She shook her head and turned to the Lord. “Mercy, Jesus, be with us.” The words rolled off her lips and fear dissipated.

  The back door was flung open. Papa burst inside and slammed it shut. He rushed into the living room. Bounty hunters pounded on the front door.

  “Open up, Martin,” said the brusque voice outside.

  Hastening to Coral’s side, Mama clutched her so hard the breath went out of her.

  “Lord Almighty, keep us in Your hands,” Papa prayed. She watched her father square his shoulders. In response, she straightened her spine and stood taller.

  Time seemed momentarily suspended, like a small silver spoon dropped into a jar of thick honey.

  With slow, methodical ease, Papa undid the latch and opened the door.

  Three men stood in the entryway. The tall one, the lead bounty hunter from Wilbur’s store, shoved a piece of paper at Papa. Two hounds barreled under Papa’s legs. They approached Coral and sniffed at her skirts, then the floor, and barked.

  “The dogs are on to something,” the shorter man said. A wicked grin spread across his stubble-covered face.

  “You
and your men are welcome to search our house,” Papa interjected. “There’s an opening in the kitchen floor that leads down to the cellar. You’re free to look there.”

  “And don’t forget my room upstairs.” Coral wanted them to look anywhere besides the living quarters where Amos had been. The tall one eyed her, smiled, and then clomped up the stairs. She squeezed her eyes shut. Time, Lord, give Josiah and Amos time.

  She averted her gaze to the kitchen. The cellar door lay open. For a moment she wondered what might happen if she shut and locked it. Too bad all three men weren’t down there, or she’d do just that. It took some strength to stifle her chuckle.

  The cellar door banged shut, jerking her back to the present. The men finished searching the kitchen and the tall man came back down the stairs. The three men gathered in the living room, and she cringed at the way they looked at Papa.

  Mama piped up. “It’s bitter cold out there tonight. Shall I make you all a cup of hot English tea?”

  Coral gulped at the lump in her throat. Mama treated these men as she would any guest in her home.

  Her mother continued. “Perhaps some biscuits and cheese to take with you. You’re bound to get hungry later on.”

  Coral gulped harder the second time, but the lump in her throat stayed put.

  She watched the taller man stride over to Mama and stare at her. His muttonchops twitched as he worked his jaw muscles. Then he looked to Papa, to Coral, and back to Mama.

  After a slow minute passed he said, “He ain’t here, men; let’s go.”

  Before she could blink twice, the men were gone.

  A quiet hung about the house well into the evening. Coral hardly spoke a word, and neither did her parents. The close call rattled her more than she cared to admit. Still, her resolve was not weakened.

  Four nerve-wracking days after that wild night, Josiah still had not returned. Every evening, and countless times while slogging through her chores, Coral prayed for his safety, and Amos’s. She wished Josiah would come home and inform them that Amos had made it to the next station. Many times she feared something awful had happened, even now as she donned her shawl and then stepped outside.