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

  Sometimes, when he held her gaze, it seemed as if the sparkle in his eyes was genuine. But she knew he was only pretending to court her, so as not to raise suspicion from the sheriff and his deputies; a ruse to keep the lawmen from discovering their true mission.

  Helping the Southern fugitives.

  During the second week of December, Annie sat at the round wooden table in the church basement with Louisa, their mothers, and the other women caught up in the abolitionist movement. Each of them had been supplied with a needle and thread, which they pulled through squares of folded muslin material. They’d decided that pillowcases would be easiest for them to sew and their recipients to carry. The soft sack “care packages” could hold an assortment of small, lightweight clothes, toiletries, and food supplies.

  Annie had also been shown how to sew a small pocket into the inside to hold hand-drawn maps detailing how to get to the ferry, through New York, and across the border to Canada, should the travelers get separated from their agent or guide.

  Two of the fugitives would be leaving the hidden room opposite them this very night, as soon as they were married. Annie finished her work, and as she held it up for the others’ inspection, she wondered if she would ever get married.

  “I’ve invited Daniel to the wedding,” Louisa confided.

  Annie raised her brows. “You told him…what you do?”

  Louisa nodded. “Daniel met Jourdon and Rhina when he came over last night. He learned how they’d met when the slaves from their two neighboring plantations came together for a prayer meeting.”

  “And then they fell in love,” Annie said dreamily.

  Louisa nodded. “Jourdon went on to explain how he was freed as a thank-you for his years of service, when the widowed mistress of his plantation sold everything and went to live with her sister. But I’m…not sure Daniel believed him until Jourdon showed his signed papers of release. Then Daniel got real quiet when he heard how Jourdon had worked for seven years to buy Rhina’s freedom, but her master just took his money…and refused to let her go.”

  “Until Harriet Tubman helped her escape,” Annie said, again wondering what it would be like to meet this modern-day Moses.

  Louisa smiled. “I’m hoping that once Daniel sees the wedding, he’ll understand why we need to help them. If Jourdon and Rhina didn’t run, they’d never be together. They’d never have a chance to have the happiness we share.”

  “What if he doesn’t understand?” Annie asked worriedly. “What if he turns them in?”

  “To do that, he’d also have to turn me in, and he’d never bring harm to me or my family,” Louisa assured her.

  However, later that night, Daniel was as fidgety as a cat with its tail on fire as he stood beside Louisa and watched the fugitive slave couple she’d been hiding exchange vows.

  Annie had gathered a few pine branches and green holly sprigs with bright red berries into a bouquet for the bride to carry down the aisle. And Louisa let Rhina wear one of her own dresses, a simple, pale pink gown trimmed with rosebud ribbon. Mrs. Strong provided the lace veil.

  But what made Rhina the most beautiful bride Annie had ever seen was not her attire. It was the way she looked into Jourdon’s face as she professed her undying love and promised to remain faithful and true…till death parted them one from the other.

  Jourdon repeated the same words back to her…with tears streaming down his face, and Annie wept along with him, her heart so full of joy for these two who had overcome such odds to be together.

  Glancing at Isaiah, Annie could see by the smile on his face that the ceremony had touched him too, and when he shifted his gaze to look at her, she saw that tender expression enter his eyes again, as if Isaiah truly cared for her.

  Smiling, her heart beat a little faster. Perhaps if there was hope for Jourdon and Rhina, there was hope for her too.

  Isaiah had agreed to help the bridal couple escape down to the waterfront. But it seemed to Annie that Daniel couldn’t wait for the ceremony to end, so he could make his own escape.

  Poor Louisa! She’d so hoped Daniel would support her views.

  Reverend Strong pronounced Jourdon and Rhina husband and wife, but instead of celebrating their union with a kiss, a rapid pounding on the basement door had the bridal couple staring at each other in alarm.

  “Who is it?” Louisa’s father called out.

  “Will Morrison,” replied a muffled voice.

  Annie’s heart leapt in her chest as she drew closer to the heavy wooden entrance that had been bolted with two strong iron pegs. “Will? What do you want?”

  “The sheriff, Cole, and their men have the church surrounded. They’ll be closing in within the next ten minutes.”

  Oh no! They were trapped? How would Jourdon and Rhina get to the docks? And how did Will know they were there? Annie had been careful not to tell him where she was going that night. Had he followed her?

  Turning, Annie glanced around at their small entourage. “We can provide a decoy. Louisa, if you pull up the hood of your mantle and run out the door with Daniel, the sheriff might think you are Jourdon and Rhina. Meanwhile we can help them escape out a window on the opposite side of the building.”

  “Yes!” Louisa cried then turned toward Daniel, whose face had turned almost as pale as his blond hair.

  Shaking his head, he backed away. “No. Louisa, I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of this.”

  “Annie and I can be the decoys,” Isaiah volunteered.

  “But then who will take them to the boat?” Annie whispered.

  “It’s too dangerous for them to run to the boat tonight,” Isaiah whispered back. “They’ll have to hide somewhere else until it’s safe.”

  “Where?” she asked, taking the white veil off Rhina’s head and placing it on her own.

  “There’s the driftwood shack, near Paulus Point,” Isaiah told her. “Louisa can lead the way.”

  Louisa nodded. “I’ve hidden people there before.”

  “I’ll go with them,” Reverend Strong said, pulling on his coat. “Godspeed to you both, Isaiah and Annie.”

  “And to you,” Annie answered in return.

  She only had enough time to blow Jourdon and Rhina a kiss; then Isaiah grabbed her hand, and they hurried up the basement steps and ran out the front door, with the shrill barking of dogs closing in on their heels.

  Isaiah had been afraid Annie might trip and fall, but she held on to him with one hand, picked up her skirts with her other, and kept up at a brisk pace as they ran down the hillside into the woods—exactly where the sheriff and the slave catchers would expect them to go.

  “Didn’t know a woman could run so fast,” Isaiah muttered when they stopped behind a tree to catch their breath.

  “A woman can do extraordinary things when pressed to do so,” Annie said, her chest heaving as she drew in another gulp of air. “Especially when being pursued by a pack of sharp-toothed, ferocious beasts!”

  Isaiah grinned. “Don’t worry, I will protect you.”

  “One bit me when I was a child,” Annie said with a scowl. “I still have the scar on my hand.”

  The high-pitched yappy barks from the dogs on their trail grew louder, and Annie squeezed his hand and took off again, this time leading him.

  His own adrenaline kicked up a notch, but he attributed it more to the fact he was running away with her, than being chased by the authorities and their hounds.

  He admired her quick thinking and calm presence of mind back at the church when she’d suggested using a decoy. And her deep compassion for the fugitives she helped escape was unmistakable. No doubt someone with that much heart…also needed love in return. The soft longing on her face at the wedding had him wondering what it would be like to share his life with someone. But not just anyone.

  Someone like…her.

  “They’re gaining on us,” Annie said, her voice shrill.

  “Turn left,” Isaiah instructed, guiding her through the trees. “Now right…Left ag
ain…Over that big log.”

  Annie shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too big.”

  Isaiah stopped up short, wrapped his arm around her, and lifted her up and over. Then he joined her on the other side and pulled her behind another big tree.

  “Wait!” Annie cried. “I lost the veil. The dogs—they’ll find it and—”

  “Too late.”

  The leaves rustled and the barks were so loud, Isaiah judged them to be less than fifty feet behind. “Annie, run!”

  She ran but, after a few feet, turned and bumped into him, knocking him down.

  “We’re surrounded on three sides,” she cried. “Sullivan’s Gully. There’s nowhere to go but back.”

  However, that, too, was not an option.

  Isaiah jumped to his feet as the dogs charged, but before he could step in front of her, Annie clenched her fist and shouted, “Stand down, you big bullies!”

  Her stern voice rang with such authority, the dogs stopped up short and nudged one another uncertainly as if not sure what to do.

  “We’ve got them cornered!” a voice shouted.

  A rush of footsteps followed, and several lanterns lit up the clearing, one held by Simon Augustus Cole, the others by some of his men.

  The sheriff entered the clearing behind them and did a double take. “What are you two doing out here?”

  “I—I was out taking a walk…when your dogs decided to chase me,” Annie accused.

  “It’s not decent for a young lady such as yourself to be out in the woods at this time of night, Miss Morrison,” the sheriff said, narrowing his gaze. “Especially when in the presence of a strapping young man and unaccompanied by a chaperone.”

  Annie folded her hands together and bowed her head as if properly ashamed.

  Next the sheriff turned to Isaiah. “Mr. Hawkins, do you remember what I told you about Mr. Morrison’s aim with a rifle?”

  Isaiah nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  The sheriff let out a loud harrumph. “Do the right thing, lad, and ask to court the girl.”

  “Yes, sir,” Isaiah replied.

  “The darkies must have slipped off in another direction,” Cole said, clearly annoyed. “Leave these two be and let’s get a move on.”

  “I’m thinking I should see to it that Miss Morrison here finds her way safely back to her house,” the sheriff countered.

  “I said get a move on,” Cole drawled in his thick Southern accent. “Unless you want me contacting someone higher up about your reluctance to help.”

  Sheriff Davis glanced over at the slave catcher, his face rigid, then bowed his head, much like Annie had. “No need to be saying stuff like that, Cole.”

  “Then give me the proper respect I deserve,” the slave catcher taunted.

  “Yes, sir,” the sheriff muttered.

  “What was that, Sheriff?” Cole said with a smirk.

  “I said…yes, sir!” the sheriff repeated with more spunk.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Cole chuckled then looked at Annie with a glint in his eyes that had Isaiah bristling. “I trust you can escort Miss Morrison home, Mr. Hawkins, with her reputation intact?”

  “Yes, sir!” Isaiah said, copying the same tone as the sheriff, so as not to rile the slave catcher’s temper.

  “Good man, Mr. Hawkins,” Cole said with an approving nod. Then he turned around and, with a wave of his hand, motioned his men onward.

  Isaiah released his breath, unaware he’d been holding it.

  Beside him, Annie did the same then met his gaze in the moonlight and smiled. “We did it.”

  “We did,” Isaiah said with a grin. “And you faced down a dog.”

  “A whole pack of dogs,” Annie agreed, smiling broader. “And they cowered before me.”

  “Like the sheriff cowered before Cole,” Isaiah said, recalling the lawman’s expression. “He’s afraid of him. We might be able to use that to our advantage.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Annie tilted her chin up, and Isaiah glanced at her lips and had trouble concentrating on anything other than the fact he was so proud of her and how she’d held up under such extreme pressure this night.

  “Annie,” he said, lowering his voice, even though they were now utterly alone. “I have something I need to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  He cleared his throat, drew in a deep breath, then looked straight at her. “I was wondering if I have your permission to properly court you?”

  Annie laughed. “My, you took the sheriff’s instructions seriously, didn’t you? Please, don’t tease.”

  Isaiah shook his head. “I’m not teasing.”

  “You’re…not?”

  “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he coaxed. “You’re beautiful, smart, compassionate, fast on your feet…and very brave.”

  “Now that I’ve faced my fear of dogs?”

  “I thought you were brave even before that,” Isaiah assured her. “Who else would volunteer to run headlong into the dark woods as a decoy to help others escape?”

  Annie continued to hold his gaze; then her lips slowly curved into a smile, and she placed her hand in his. “You’ll have to first ask permission from my father.”

  “I’ll speak to him first thing in the morning,” Isaiah promised.

  Chapter 8

  Isaiah arrived at Morrison’s Cabinetry bright and early. He’d been unable to sleep a wink as he thought of the bridal couple hidden in the shack along the northern banks of the Hudson.

  Unfortunately, the fisherman’s boat Isaiah had planned to put them on had been mysteriously sunk the night before. The broken wooden mast, laden with bullet holes, swung cockeyed—the only thing still sticking above water. And Isaiah hadn’t been able to find safe passage aboard any of the other sailing vessels in port to take his newly wedded “cargo” across the river. His mission this morning was to ask Mr. Morrison if he could build him a boat.

  Isaiah also planned to ask about Annie.

  Quick to shut the door behind him on his way into her father’s shop, he rubbed his hands together to ward off the chill from the gusty wind he’d encountered on his short walk over from the livery, two blocks away.

  “Can I help you?” Mr. Morrison greeted, setting down the handsaw he was using on his worktable.

  Relaxing as he drew near the heat of the woodstove, Isaiah drew comfort from the cedar-scented air, produced by the fresh wood shavings scattered across the floor. The shop reminded him of his own father and how he’d whittled wooden whistles for both him and Tom one Christmas. A holiday that was fast approaching.

  I’ll need a gift for Annie. If she’ll have me.

  With the image of her smiling face vivid in his mind, Isaiah gained courage and continued forward. “Good morning, Mr. Morrison. I was wondering if I could—”

  Behind the elder, gray-haired man stood Annie’s brother, Will, who glanced up from the elongated cabinet frame he was hammering and gave Isaiah a friendly nod. And behind him… was a small wooden vessel with a twelve-foot mast and a strong rudder. The white sails had been tucked and tied, but they were all there, just waiting to be unfurled. His pulse leaping, Isaiah eyed the sleek design and judged it would hold about five people.

  Mr. Morrison followed his gaze then asked, “Is all…well?”

  “As well as it can be, except…I was wondering if I might trouble you to lend me the use of your boat?”

  Mr. Morrison cast a hesitant glance toward his son then looked Isaiah in the eye. “The boat in the back belongs to Will—who has recently been recruited to help Simon Cole and the sheriff round up Southern fugitives.”

  Isaiah caught the warning in his tone, glanced between the two of them, and said, “I…see.”

  “What do you need the boat for?” Will asked, his eyes widening.

  Mr. Morrison shook his head. “William, it might be best if you don’t ask. You don’t want to have an
y reason for Simon Cole to look at you funny, if you know what I mean.”

  Will scowled. “I’m tired of being left out. You know I’d never reveal any information that could put anyone in harm’s way.”

  Isaiah walked over to stand before him. “Will, I need the boat so I can go…fishing. Do you think your skiff could handle a trip across the Hudson and back?”

  “Yes, I believe it could,” Will said, breaking into a grin. “The rigging is sturdy enough…and the interior can hold a lot of fish. I started building it several weeks ago, thinking I might have to do some fishing myself. No chance of that now.”

  Isaiah glanced at the boat again. “Think you can help me cart it down to the docks?”

  “That might be too dangerous,” Mr. Morrison protested. “I can go with you.”

  Will frowned. “Dad, with your leg?”

  “I’ve got a limp, Will, but I’m not feeble,” Mr. Morrison said, tapping his cane. “I may not be able to run like you and Annie, but I can help this young man take the boat off the wagon and set her in the water.”

  “Sir, there’s something else I would like to speak to you about,” Isaiah said, and his stomach broke into a fit of excited but nervous jitters. “I’d like to speak to you about…Annie.”

  Mr. Morrison smiled. “My daughter speaks very highly of you.”

  “I was hoping you might allow me the privilege of—”

  Before Isaiah could finish, the front door to the shop opened, and a gust of cold air swirled inside, along with Simon Cole and three of his men.

  “Ah, Mr. Hawkins,” Cole drawled. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

  “Oh?” Isaiah hesitated, exchanging a look of alarm with Annie’s father. Then, giving Cole his full attention, he said, “I can’t imagine why.”

  Cole took a few steps closer. He reeked of alcohol and stale cigars. “I want to offer you a job, that’s why. I heard you are no longer working on the ferry, and I decided you might make a grand addition to my team.”

  “Sorry,” Isaiah said, noticing Cole’s men blocked the door. “I need to help my brother at the livery.”