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

  “We heard about that hefty fine the sheriff handed your brother, Tom,” Cole said, and grinned. “Didn’t we, boys?”

  Cole’s men nodded and grinned along with him.

  “Must be tough, trying to come up with that much cash without going out of business,” Cole pressed.

  Isaiah lifted his chin. “We’ll manage.”

  “And then, of course, there’s that baby his missus has on the way.”

  “Baby?” Isaiah did a double take, and before he could recover his composure, Cole caught on.

  “You didn’t know?” Cole asked. “Well, I did just find out myself this morning. Seems Doc Riley is worried poor Mrs. Hawkins won’t have enough to eat to keep both her and the baby strong. Of course, if you joined up with me, I might be able to persuade the sheriff, since we’re such good friends, to reduce that hefty fine so’s it’s not such a burden on you all.”

  Join up with Cole?

  Heat rushed up Isaiah’s neck and spilled over his tongue. “I’d rather go to jai—”

  The door opened behind Cole, and Isaiah’s attention shot to the scantily dressed, shivering man one of the sheriff’s deputies had handcuffed and brought in.

  Oh no. Isaiah swallowed hard, and his gut wrenched. Not him.

  “What have we here?” Cole asked, his brows lifted in surprise. He glanced at the shiny silver ring on the black man’s left hand, let out a hearty chuckle, then slapped his thigh and announced, “Looks to me like we caught ourselves a groom! What do you think he’d fetch down south? Twenty dollars?”

  “I’m a free man,” Jourdon retorted.

  “No,” Cole said, as if the man had the intelligence of a small child. “You are a slave.”

  Isaiah bristled. He knew it didn’t matter whether Jourdon was free or not. Cole would take him anyway and sell him to some wealthy Southern plantation owner. Because all Cole cared about was the money. And because the black people up north had no rights. Just like his black friend Nathaniel, whom his father had died trying to defend.

  With an amused smirk, Cole turned back around, and with his eyes gleaming, he gave Isaiah another devilish grin. “What’s it going to be, boy? Are you going to help me round up these darkies and reduce your brother’s fine, or not?”

  “Oh, Annie, it’s just terrible!” Louisa exclaimed, opening the side door of the church and letting her in. “Cole’s men broke into the shack in the middle of the night. Jourdon and Rhina climbed out a window and ran along the water’s edge, but had to cut inland because they were being chased by the men on horseback. They just barely made it through the woods and back to town. Rhina said she pounded on the church door, but when no one answered, she remembered I’d told them about my family’s house around the block.”

  “Where are they now? In the church basement?” Annie asked, following her down the stairs.

  “Only Rhina.”

  “Where’s Jourdon?”

  Louisa’s expression grew solemn. “They got him.”

  “Cole’s men? But he’s a free man!”

  “They don’t care, Annie. That’s why all the black people need to leave Jersey City and head to Canada. Even though this is a free state, no one with black skin is safe here. Cole will take him south and sell him to the highest bidder.”

  Annie shuddered. “Where do you suppose Cole is keeping the fugitives?”

  “There are rumors that his men guard them out in the woods somewhere. But now that they have Jourdon, I’m worried they might come back here looking for Rhina. She’s not safe here, Annie.”

  “We can hide her in the secret compartment of your wagon and drive her down to the waterfront this afternoon. Isaiah spoke to my father and said he’d bring Will’s boat around Paulus Point at three thirty. He can at least still get Rhina safely across the Hudson.”

  Louisa took a white envelope from the pocket of her top skirt. “In the meantime, why don’t we take the old cedar path to the post office? I’m sending word to William Still, a prominent abolitionist in Philadelphia, with hope that he might be able to contact Harriet Tubman. If anyone can help free Jourdon from Simon Cole’s clutches, it’s her.”

  Annie agreed, and as they set off arm in arm, she told Louisa about how she and Isaiah had led the sheriff, Cole, and his men astray the night before.

  “You should have seen him, Louisa,” Annie gushed. “Isaiah held my hand the entire time, making sure I never tripped, like a true gentleman.”

  “Gentlemen do not run with their ladies through the woods,” Louisa teased. “They take them to lavish balls and twirl them around on the dance floor.”

  Annie ignored her and smiled. “Then he complimented me by calling me ‘brave’ when I stood up to the pack of dogs chasing us.”

  “He did well to compliment your bravery,” Louisa assured her. “I myself am so proud of you! Although I daresay Mr. Hawkins would have done better to compliment the effect you have on his heart.”

  “He may not have used words,” Annie confided, her face warming by the mere thought of him. “But when Isaiah looked at me with those sparkling, gray-blue eyes…”

  “How could you see what color his eyes are in the dark?” Louisa demanded.

  Annie laughed. “I’ve seen them in the daylight. But the color is beside the point. The point is…he asked if he could court me.”

  “I’ve seen the way you two have been gazing at each other,” Louisa said, smiling. “You and Isaiah will make a great couple.”

  “I do hope so,” Annie admitted, and sighed. “Even though I know what we do is dangerous, I love how Isaiah risks his own life to help others and how he stands up to the sheriff and Cole and his men.”

  “Sounds like you’re in love.”

  Noting the sudden lack of enthusiasm in Louisa’s tone and in the expression on her face, Annie stopped in the middle of the path. How careless she’d been when pouring out her feelings for Isaiah to not remember that her dear friend’s own relationship was in question.

  “I’m so sorry, Louisa,” Annie apologized. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.”

  “You weren’t,” Louisa said earnestly. “I’m happy for you, I truly am. I’ve wanted you to meet someone else…and be happy again, for so long.”

  With a start, Annie realized Louisa was right—she hadn’t been happy since Henry Pennington left town with that other girl. Even though two years had passed, she had not forgiven him. Until she met Isaiah.

  “Any word from Daniel?” Annie asked softly.

  “None.” Brushing away a tear, Louisa shot a glance heavenward then gave her a forlorn look. “I’m so afraid, Annie. I’m so afraid our engagement is off.”

  “I’m sure it’s too early to jump to conclusions,” Annie soothed.

  “Our views are so different,” Louisa said, and shook her head. “If he can’t abide my involvement in the Underground Railroad—”

  Annie tensed as a boisterous laugh, undoubtedly male, carried through the trees to their right, followed by the snap of a whip.

  Louisa raised a finger to her lips, warning her to keep quiet; then in silent agreement, they moved closer, edging forward from bush to bush to keep themselves out of sight. Then as they peered between the branches of a large, green-leafed rhododendron, Annie caught a glimpse of a group of men standing in a semicircle.

  Amongst them was Cole, who held the whip, a few of his men whom Annie recognized from the night before, and…

  Isaiah—

  With a leather horse harness in his hands, which he put around a dark man’s neck.

  Was that…? Annie gasped. No! It couldn’t be! But the edge of the black man’s ragged shirt lifted as he stumbled forward to reveal the curve of a familiar dark scar. Kitch?

  What was he doing here? Didn’t Isaiah help him escape?

  Confused, Annie continued to stare at the scene unfolding before her, with dread pitting the bottom of her stomach. Surely Isaiah couldn’t be one of them. Not willingly. Not after telling her about how the slave catc
her had shot his father.

  Unless…it had all been a lie.

  “Hold tight to the reins and drive that darkie back to our cabin,” Cole instructed. “In the mornin’ we’ll chain him to the others and make ready to head south.”

  Annie held her breath, waiting for the man she loved to stand up to the wretched Southern slave catcher, to flash him a belligerent look or show the least bit of defiance. But to her deepening sorrow, she heard Isaiah respond with an enthusiastic, “Yes, sir!”

  And then…she saw him smile.

  Isaiah sailed around Paulus Point and waited in the skiff, pretending to fish for over an hour. There were many other boats sailing back and forth from the Jersey City docks to the tall buildings of New York, looming above the opposite shore. It would have been a perfect day to blend in and transport his intended cargo…if they had showed. After glancing at his pocket watch for what seemed the hundredth time, he finally brought the boat ashore.

  Where is Annie?

  Fearing something had gone dreadfully wrong, he ran the distance to her house, hoping she’d just miscalculated the time.

  He knew that wasn’t like her, but hated the other alternatives running through his head. She was smart. Fast. But perhaps she’d had to take a detour. In which case, she wouldn’t be home But when he arrived, with his heart racing and his lungs out of breath—she opened the door.

  “Where were you?” he whispered. “Is the cargo safe?”

  “What cargo?” she asked, feigning innocence. “We don’t have any cargo here. It’s best you leave, Mr. Hawkins.”

  Annie attempted to shut the door, but Isaiah stopped her by wedging his boot into the narrow opening.

  He glanced past her into the house. Perhaps the sheriff had paid a visit and was listening in the background. “Are you…alone?”

  “Quite.”

  Isaiah frowned, confused by her obstinate expression. “What’s…wrong?”

  “I won’t be played a fool a second time,” Annie said with a lift of her chin. “I made that mistake two years ago, and I won’t be making it again.”

  “What are you talking about?” Isaiah demanded. Was she talking in code?

  “I saw you today,” she accused, her tone bitter. “With Cole. And Kitch.”

  Isaiah thought back to the loathsome incident in the clearing of the woods, and he sucked in his breath. “Annie, I had no choice.”

  “You seemed to be enjoying yourself well enough, Mr. Hawkins. I’d thought you and I shared the same views, but it seems you were only using me as a pawn to get my family in trouble. When were you planning to turn us in?”

  “I’m not,” Isaiah insisted, opening the door wider. “You must believe me.”

  “Rumor has it Simon Augustus Cole wants to abolish those who want to abolish slavery and ruin his good business. I trusted you. But it appears you have done well to set me up. Worse, you did it by toying with my affection and pretending interest in a possible courtship.”

  “I was never pretending, Annie,” Isaiah said, his throat hoarse. “And I would never do anything to place your family in trouble. Cole came into your father’s shop this morning and enlisted my help, the same as he enlisted Will.”

  “You had a harness around Kitch’s neck, like a horse!” Annie cried, her disgust in him undeniable. “If Cole enlisted you against your will, then why were you smiling?”

  “I assure you, it was nothing but an act.”

  “Of course that’s what you would have me believe.” Annie scowled, her expression growing as fierce as the night she shook her fist at the dogs. “What is Kitch doing here? I saw you put all those fugitives on the ferry to New York, but how do I know they ever got off safe? How do I know you haven’t been working with Cole and his accomplices this whole time?”

  “I would rather go to jail than work for Cole,” he said vehemently, “but I wouldn’t be doing anyone any good while sitting in a cell. Cole says if I cooperate, he’ll get the sheriff to lessen my brother’s fine, which we need or the livery will close. And I figure if I play along and make Cole think he can rely on me, then the first chance I get, I can find a way to slip up and let Kitch and the others go free.”

  For a moment, a flash of doubt crossed her face. As if she almost believed him. Then she shook her head. “I’d like to trust you, Isaiah…but if I’m wrong about you—and my judgment in character has been wrong in the past—”

  “You know me, Annie,” he pleaded, the ache in the back of his throat nearly unbearable. “You’re not wrong about me. I won’t let you down.”

  Her lower lip wavered, and in her sad, red-rimmed eyes, he saw longing. And regret. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins,” she whispered. “But if you’re working for Cole…then we’re on opposite sides. And I can’t endanger my family.”

  Chapter 9

  Annie curled up into a ball on her bed and squeezed her eyes shut. The insides of her stomach twisted and turned, leaving her feeling hollow and empty, and incredibly sick.

  What if Isaiah had been telling her the truth? What if he did have a plan to let the slaves escape? Or had she misjudged him as much as she’d misjudged Henry? Perhaps she just wasn’t a good judge of character to have allowed both men to fool her so easily.

  Well, she wouldn’t dwell upon either one of them again. Crying over what couldn’t be changed was never anything but a waste of time.

  If only she could tell that to her heart.

  Why, God? Why can’t I find someone who loves me? Am I not smart enough? Pretty enough? Do You even care?

  She’d heard some people say they heard God’s voice speak to them all the time, encouraging them to do the right thing, to take the right path. Except she’d never heard God speak to her, and she didn’t even know what path she was on.

  Perhaps she could ask Reverend Strong to speak to God for her. Surely as a minister of the church, God would listen to him. Drying her eyes, she vowed to ask him right after the morning service. First, she’d sneak down to the basement and bring Rhina a jug of fresh milk and a few dried apples.

  Luckily, she and Louisa had found out that Isaiah couldn’t be trusted before taking Rhina to his boat. Staying in the church basement might be dangerous, but they’d decided Rhina would be safer there than walking straight into the hands of a suspected slave catcher.

  Ignoring her parents’ concerned glances, Annie sat in the back of the wagon, cuddled under a lap blanket, as they drove into town. They’d been aware of her foul, “unladylike” mood after Isaiah had left the evening before, but hadn’t made comment. Since Simon Cole had arrived to terrorize the neighborhood, foul moods had seemed to run amuck. Her brother, Will, had been in a foul mood just this morning, and left, taking the horse, saying he needed to take care of something important before church.

  From what she’d heard Cole say in the woods, Annie suspected he was needed to help prepare the slaves for the move south.

  Indeed, the entire town seemed astir as Annie’s father drove their wagon past the courthouse. A small crowd was gathered on the stone steps, between two of the four majestic structural pillars, unusual for a Sunday, when most people were focused on visiting the various places of worship. More folks hurried along the streets. And when Annie’s father hitched their horse and wagon with the others in the back field, the sheriff and his deputies rode past at a furious pace, kicking dust up over everyone’s Sunday best.

  Shaking off her mantle, dress skirts, and bonnet, Annie slipped through the First Presbyterian Church’s double doors and down the stairs to the basement. Unlatching a second door to her right, she knocked five times then entered the room where Rhina was hiding.

  “I brought you milk and apples,” Annie said, removing the items from the inside folds of her hooded mantle.

  “Thank you, miss,” a deep voice replied.

  Annie jumped back. “Rhina?”

  “I’m here, miss. Jourdon too. And Kitch.”

  Annie rolled back the rug and lifted the grate off the trapdoor beneat
h. Then she peered into the hole and gazed down at Rhina and the two men beside her. “Jourdon. Kitch. How…did you get here?”

  “Mr. Hawkins made it look like one of the other men lost the keys to the handcuffs; then when Mr. Cole went to search for them, Mr. Hawkins and young Mr. Morrison helped us escape.”

  “When?”

  “Early this mornin’.”

  Was that where Will had gone? To help Isaiah?

  “You’re not wrong about me,” Isaiah had told her. “I won’t let you down.”

  His words from the day before filled her with guilt. Oh, why didn’t I believe him? And joy. Now that she knew Isaiah was a man of his word, she also realized he must have been telling the truth about how he felt about her. He’d said, “I was never pretending, Annie.”

  “What about the other fugitives Cole captured?” she asked, her spirit lifting as she handed down the food.

  “They were freed as well,” Louisa said, rushing into the room. “Simon Cole is storming mad and searching the entire town. It’s best everyone stays hidden.”

  Rhina, Jourdon, and Kitch nodded, and Louisa replaced the grate and straightened the braided rug overtop.

  “I—I need to find Isaiah,” Annie said, heading for the door.

  “Come with me,” Louisa said, grabbing her hand. “I think I saw him sit in one of the pews toward the back.”

  Isaiah searched the congregation seated inside the church and spotted Annie’s mother pulling both her and Louisa into the space beside her in the front row. He’d have to wait until the sermon was over to speak with the woman he’d come to adore.

  And tell her he’d willingly go to jail rather than help Cole, if it meant she’d forgive him and believe his feelings for her were true.

  Ironically enough, Reverend Strong had picked this Sunday to preach about the enslaved Israelites and how Moses, being led by God, had asked the Egyptian pharaoh to “let his people go.”

  Would the story inspire the abolitionists in the congregation to take action against Cole and demand he let the Southern fugitives go?