From the scared, nervous looks flitting around the room, Isaiah didn’t think so. Especially when Cole burst through the front doors, disrupting the service, and ordered his men to search the entire building.
“This is a disgrace!” Reverend Strong thundered from the pulpit. Turning toward the sheriff, who also entered the church, he demanded, “Are you going to let him get away with this?”
The sheriff grimaced. “I’m bound by the law to help him.”
“Then break the law,” Reverend Strong said, shaking his fist in the air. “And do what you know by God is right.”
Tensions in the room escalated when someone called out, “Found them!” and Rhina, Jourdon, and Kitch were hauled into the middle of the assembly.
“This church is the real disgrace,” Cole taunted. “Led by a preacher who’d rather break laws than abide by them. Instead of a fine, I think this man needs some time behind bars to contemplate the seriousness of his actions.”
Sheriff Davis hesitated, and despite the chill in the room, a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face as he took out a pair of handcuffs. “Reverend Strong, I’m placing you under arrest.”
“Chances are, he didn’t act alone,” Cole drawled, releasing a grin. “Lock up the missus, and their daughter too.”
The congregation let out a collective gasp, and all who were sitting jumped to their feet. Including Annie.
“No!” she cried, as the deputies tried to pry her hands away from her friend.
Isaiah worked to make his way toward her. If she spoke out too loudly, the sheriff and his men might decide to lock Annie away too. But from the roaring chant of hostile voices, it appeared a mob had formed outside the church, and when someone threw in a flaming torch…
The mass exodus of people turned everything into utter chaos.
Annie found herself swept out the door with the rest of the crowd, like a small piece of kelp caught in the current of an angry sea.
The mob who had incited the incident threatened to burn down the church! God’s church. For providing a safe haven for fugitives! And instead of standing up to them, the congregation had run away in fear. Annie was scared too. Afraid for herself; for her best friend, Louisa; for their families; and for her community.
Dear God, what has this world come to?
Annie frowned, her wits shaken. Indeed, where was God in all of this? Didn’t He see what was going on? Wasn’t He going to send someone to stop the madness?
“I’m sending you.”
The words popped into her head like a soft whisper. At first, she didn’t know if she’d imagined it or if someone beside her had actually spoken the words aloud. Surely it couldn’t have come from…
God?
She glanced upward, still not sure she’d heard His voice, but with firm resolve, she knew in her heart and with every fiber of her being that if no one else would speak out against the injustice surrounding them, then by golly, she would.
Despite the risk it might pose to her family.
“Stop!” she cried, spinning around. If only she could get at least one person to listen to her. “Can’t you see what Simon Cole is doing to us?”
But she was too short to be either seen or heard. An insignificant voice from an insignificant person. Or was she? Squeezing through the crowd, she climbed atop the back of a wagon someone had parked along the street and surveyed the scene on either side of her.
To the south stood the courthouse, where the laws that were enacted were supposed to protect the rights of the people. To the north stood her beloved church, with its tall, illuminated bell tower pointing toward the heavens. And in the middle, standing on the street before her, stood Simon Augustus Cole, crowing like a celebrity as he tore off Kitch’s coat and threw him down in the dirt by her brother’s feet.
“This is the second time this here darkie has slipped away from me,” Cole said, tossing Will the whip. “Why don’t you teach him a lesson?”
Annie glanced at the whip and at poor Kitch, anticipating the worst. But in a surprise move that brought joy to her heart, her brother tossed the whip back toward the slave catcher, and in a clear voice that turned many heads, he said, “I will not.”
“Are you defying my order, son?” Cole asked, narrowing his gaze. Turning toward the crowd, he said, “Anyone who protects one of these slaves is no better than a slave himself. And disobedient slaves deserve to be whipped!”
Annie’s heart nearly stopped when Cole drew back the tail end of the long, brown leather whip, preparing to strike, his eyes targeting her brother. But before the slave catcher could lash out, another man stepped forward and took Will’s place.
Isaiah! Oh no, not my Isaiah!
Annie winced. The same moment, a shot rang out. Opening her eyes, her gaze flew first to Isaiah, who remained unharmed—thank the Lord—then toward the shattered remains of Cole’s whip, strewn on the ground. Noticing everyone else had turned toward the direction from which the shot had been fired, she followed their lead and spied her father, leaning against the side of his cabinet shop, a long-barreled rifle in his hands.
“Simon Cole would make slaves of us all,” her father said, addressing the crowd. “But there won’t be any whippings on my watch.”
“Nor mine,” Annie said, and spun around to face the slave catcher straight on. “Simon Cole, how dare you treat people that way! It’s inhumane!”
“You—a mere woman—dare to judge me?” Cole growled, spotting her atop the wagon. “You have no more right to speak to me than one of these slaves! Women are to remain silent.”
“I will not!” Annie protested. “The people in our town have remained silent too long already, while you’ve searched our homes, fined and jailed our loved ones, and enslaved us in fear with your cruel bullying.”
“That’s right!” someone shouted supportively from the edge of the crowd. Daniel. With an outraged scowl, he was weaving through the crowd, his gaze steadfast on Louisa, who stood handcuffed with her parents in the sheriff’s company.
Encouraged, Annie pointed toward Jourdon. “That man, whom Cole has bound, is not a slave. He is a free man.”
Cole rolled his eyes and let out a derisive laugh. “You have no proof.”
“Neither do you have proof that he is a slave,” Annie argued.
“I do not need proof,” Cole countered. “The law says my word is good enough.”
“I’ll give you proof,” Isaiah said, walking toward the three fugitives. First, he asked Jourdon for his papers and held them up in the air. Then he walked toward Kitch and pulled a square, folded paper from his front shirt pocket. “This letter was sent by courier just seven days ago.” Addressing the crowd, he read, “I, Benjamin DeWitt, heir of DeWitt Manor in South Carolina as of December 1st 1851, upon the death of my father hereby declare, that the former slave by the name of Kitch, a tall, robust black man identified by a horseshoe-shaped scar on the lower right side of his abdomen, is released from his service to this plantation to go henceforth into the world…a free man.”
Kitch was free? Annie could hardly believe it!
Neither could Cole. “Rubbish!” the slave catcher sneered. “The letter is a phony. Probably given to him by one of the abolitionists.”
“No!” Annie protested. “The letter is real. Kitch, lift up your shirt.”
Heads strained to lean over each other as the crowd watched Kitch lift the hem of his shirt to reveal the large horseshoe scar that had been branded into his side. Several people turned their faces away in horror; others couldn’t help but stare. But the murmur that erupted among them clearly showed they were dismayed.
So was the sheriff. “Let me see that letter, Mr. Hawkins.”
When Isaiah handed it to him, Annie saw the sheriff wince.
“Benjamin DeWitt and I studied at The Citadel in Charleston together,” Sheriff Davis announced. “This is his signature.”
Knowing the lawman was afraid of Cole, she prompted, “Are we going to continue to let Mr. Cole
intimidate us?”
“No, we are not,” the sheriff replied.
Taking a key ring from his pocket, he took the handcuffs off the wrists of Louisa and her parents. “Reverend Strong, my apologies. I cannot arrest you for housing free men.”
“What about the woman with them?” Cole protested. “They haven’t proved she’s free.”
“Simon Cole,” the sheriff announced, “as a disturber of the peace, you are no longer welcome in this town. I suggest you leave or I’ll have my men put you on the next train south. And…if you ever show your face in Jersey City again, I’ll arrange to have some false charges trumped up against you.”
The entire crowd buzzed with excitement as they murmured back and forth to one another, followed by clapping and several cheers.
“What about this man?” Isaiah asked, grabbing hold of a red-faced little fellow, who looked like he’d wanted to slink away unseen. “He’s the one who incited the mob to burn down the church.”
“Arrest him,” the sheriff ordered, motioning toward his deputy.
“And these three?” Annie asked, pointing toward Rhina, Jourdon, and Kitch.
The sheriff looked at the three fugitives and said, “May God go with you…as you head north.”
“Yes, sir,” Kitch said with a big, toothy smile. “Thank you, sir.”
As the sheriff walked over and released them from their bonds, Annie’s heart soared, making her feel floaty, exuberant, almost giddy with both relief and joy.
This was who she was meant to be—someone who helped others and gave a voice to those who had none…slaves…women. Perhaps others would like to join her, and together they could make a difference for future generations.
Isaiah broke through the crowd, and although she knew it would be most unladylike, she picked up the hem of her petticoats, climbed over the side of the wagon, and ran to him like a wayward tramp. Her bonnet flew off her head backward, but she didn’t even care! Her heart beat fast, leaving her breathless and excited all at the same time, as if by confronting Cole she’d just faced a hundred dogs!
“Annie, you were amazing,” Isaiah said, his gray-blue eyes gleaming as he swept her up in his arms and twirled her around. “I’m so proud of you!”
“So am I,” Will said, coming up from behind and looping an arm around their shoulders.
“I was so worried for you both when Cole raised that whip!” Annie exclaimed.
“Lucky for us, your father is a mean shot with his rifle,” Isaiah said with a grin.
Annie glanced over at her father and mother, their faces overwhelmed with emotion as they crossed the street to make their way toward them, past the sheriff, past Louisa and Daniel, Reverend and Mrs. Strong, and around Rhina, Jourdon, and Kitch.
“It wasn’t luck,” she said, her heart swelling with gratitude for all the wonderful family and friends who populated her life. “I’m convinced it was God’s plan all along.”
Chapter 10
The day after their release, Jourdon and Rhina waited along the banks of the Hudson River, in the late afternoon, for their journey across the water to their “promised land.” Kitch had come down with Isaiah and the Morrisons to say goodbye but had informed them he wasn’t ready to cross over into Canada quite yet.
“What will you do?” Isaiah asked.
Kitch gave him a toothy smile. “Tell your brother I’s found out where your friend is bein’ held down south, and I’s gonna go fetch him.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Tom,” Isaiah promised, his throat tight. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“Goin’ to get my own brother too,” Kitch confided. “Seein’ ’em go free will be all the thanks I’s need.”
Isaiah glanced at Annie as Jourdon took Rhina’s hand. The boat should have been here by now. Had something happened to waylay Will?
Unperturbed, Jourdon suddenly broke into song.
“Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.”
From the north, a deep woman’s voice joined in like a faint echo upon the water, and a moment later, William Morrison’s small skiff sailed toward them through an opening in the fog.
Isaiah frowned. “Who is that with him? The woman singing?”
“An angel,” Kitch said reverently.
Annie smiled. “Harriet Tubman, the Moses of her people, come to take Jourdon and Rhina home.”
Isaiah didn’t think the legendary lady was much bigger than Annie. Her left eyelid drooped a bit more than her right, but her face glowed with an internal light as she stepped out of the boat to make their acquaintance.
“Heard about what you two did,” Ms. Tubman said, looking at both him and Annie as if sizing them up. “Makes me look forward to coming through your station.”
“You mean…we might be working together?” Annie asked, surprised.
Ms. Tubman nodded. “When I need to pass this way.”
“It was Annie who helped rally the town to finally take a stand,” Isaiah said proudly.
A faint rose color blushed Annie’s cheeks as she said, “We might not be able to end slavery, but we can help fight the evil in our little part of the world.”
“Indeed, we can, Miss Morrison,” Harriet Tubman agreed.
Isaiah glanced again at Annie, as he’d done at least a hundred times already this day, and knew it was time to make his own stand.
Just as soon as his nerves calmed down long enough to allow him to speak.
Annie sighed as the bridal couple climbed into her brother’s boat with Ms. Tubman, who would be accompanying them north. She wondered what kind of life they would have in Canada. Which led her to think of her dear friend Louisa, who had made up with her fiancé, Daniel, and was due to wed the following spring.
“If there’s hope for us, there’s hope for you too,” Louisa had told her.
Except, Isaiah kept glancing away every time she looked at him. They hadn’t made eye contact once. He hadn’t smiled at her either.
“Annie,” he said, taking her elbow and drawing her aside. “Can I have a word?”
Oh no. His face was too serious, and she feared he might say something awful, like he might be leaving with Kitch to go find his Southern friend and bring him home. Or that the livery hadn’t been able to pay the fine, and he and his brother would be relocating elsewhere. Or…maybe he just didn’t like her anymore…the way she hoped.
Her knees wobbled as she waited for him to say something. It wasn’t like him to dawdle. “Isaiah, say what’s on your mind and get on with it,” she said, searching his face for a telltale sign that he still cared.
Smiling, he turned his head and gave her a direct look that shot straight into her soul and lifted her spirit so high, she thought she’d lift right out of her boots.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to Cole sooner,” Isaiah said, taking both her hands in his.
Annie held his gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”
“If I’d been in your shoes, I wouldn’t have trusted me either,” he assured her. “But I hope you trust me now, when I tell you—I love you, Annie Morrison.”
Warmed by the words she’d wanted to hear, she smiled with relief. He wasn’t going to leave her behind, she was sure of it now.
“I’m quite fond of you too, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, bursting into a smile.
Isaiah quirked his brow. “Fond?”
“Did you express to my father your wish to court me?” Annie teased.
“No, I did not,” Isaiah said, shaking his head.
She hesitated. “You didn’t?”
“I asked his permission to ask for your hand in marriage,” Isaiah said, the confidence in his voice returning.
“Marriage?” Annie gasped. “What did my father say?”
Isaiah chuckled. “He said I have his blessing, if I can convince you to accept my proposal.”
“He did, did he?” Glancing behind
her, she caught her father’s eye and laughed when he gave her an encouraging wink.
“Annie,” Isaiah said, dropping to one knee before her. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He looked so handsome, with his dark hair flopping over his forehead and waving in the cool, gentle breeze. “Isaiah,” she said softly, her voice choked with the amount of happiness bubbling up from within. “I love you too.”
“My dear lady,” he admonished, “you still have not answered my question.”
“Yes, I will marry you,” Annie said, then frowned. “As long as we are agreed that I can continue to speak my mind.”
Isaiah grinned then stood and held her gaze. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Drawing closer, he pressed a light kiss upon her lips that sent Annie’s hopes soaring and her heart silently singing the song of the slaves she’d helped escape, a song of joy and promise for those who believed in a better life, a better future.
The song of hearts set free.
Darlene Panzera is a multipublished author, speaker, and writing coach of both sweet contemporary and Christian inspirational romance. Her career launched with The Bet, a novella included in bestselling author Debbie Macomber’s Family Affair, which led her to publish nine more titles with Avon Impulse, a division of HarperCollins. The final installment of her newest three-book series, Montana Hearts, debuted May 2016. Darlene is also a member of RWA and serves on the board of the Northwest Christian Writers Association. When not writing, she loves spending time with her husband and three kids, serving her church, teaching at conferences, and feeding her horse carrots. Learn more about Darlene at www.darlenepanzera.com.
Freedom’s Flight
by Penny Zeller
Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.
—PSALM 55:22
Chapter 1
Ridge Gap, Tennessee
1856
Annalise Van Houten followed her aunt and uncle toward the First Church of Ridge Gap, Tennessee. The stately brick building loomed over an otherwise modest town square.
The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War Page 53
