The Candle Star

by Michelle Isenhoff

  She hadn’t seen Malachi since noon, nor had her uncle returned. She wished someone would tell her what was going on. Unable to wait any longer, she sought them out. Slipping into the alley beside the barn, she found the door and stepped inside.

  She peered into the gloom that deepened as the sun sank behind the skyline. “Malachi?”

  “I’m here,” he answered. He was bent over a bundle. There was no sign of the runaways.

  She closed the door and could hardly see. “What’s going on? What do we do?”

  Malachi straightened. “We wait for your uncle.”

  Emily’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the dimness. “Where are they?”

  “Who?”

  “You know who!”

  “Abraham and Rachel. They all have names.” He gestured toward the hay. “They’re sleeping.”

  Emily glanced around the barn. It looked the same, still smelled of hay and musty timbers, still housed the horrid wagon, but it had changed. Now it housed a secret, like the desk in her uncle’s office. And even though it was hundreds, maybe a thousand miles from Southern plantations, two slaves had found their way to it.

  “How’d they get here?” Emily asked. “Here, to this very spot, to you?”

  “It’s a station.”

  “A what?”

  “A safe house on the Underground Railroad.”

  She had heard the term before, in a whispered phrase that had fallen dead when she approached the slave cabin. And she’d heard it uttered with anger and derision by the overseer of a neighboring plantation. But her father never spoke about such things.

  “It’s the last station,” he continued, “and operated with signs and codes so you never would have known it was here if you hadn’t stumbled inside.”

  They heard a soft rustle. “Can I see them?” she asked.

  He led her to the back of the barn. It had grown quite dark. The black children were curled under their blanket, nestled into the back side of the haystack. Abraham slept, but Rachel fastened her eyes on them.

  Emily approached tentatively. “Hello.”

  The girl remained motionless.

  “Do they speak English?” Emily whispered.

  Malachi nodded.

  “Then why doesn’t she respond?”

  “You probably sound like her mistress. Rachel, this is my friend, Emily.”

  Rachel’s eyes flickered. “You dress like Ol’ Miss too.”

  Emily looked down at her favorite gown. She had forgotten to change out of it after dinner. She smiled gently at the girl. “But I’m not your mistress.”

  Rachel eyed Emily distrustfully. “You a fine lady, miss. You gots slaves, too?”

  The question startled Emily. “My father—uh, yes, I suppose I do.” Her face blazed in the dark barn.

  “Why you helpin’ us?”

  Emily grew more flustered. She glanced down at the bandage on the girl’s leg, at the blood.

  Rachel sensed her discomfort and lifted a defiant chin. “Don’t none of yo’ people like bein’ yo’ slave.”

  In the same situation, Emily wondered if she would be as fearless as Rachel. “How did you dare to run in the face of such horrible penalties?” she asked.

  “It take more courage to stay. Marse, he wanna make more slave babies.”

  Emily felt her throat constrict.

  “We should redress that wound,” Malachi announced, and stood to find the materials.

  The blood looked black in the gloom. “What happened to your leg?” Emily asked.

  “Hound two nights past. Abraham club it wid a stick. Ain’t kilt though.”

  It hadn’t killed the dog. Emily had seen both bloodhounds that afternoon, one sporting a thick bandage. They had accompanied the slave catchers. She hoped they were far north.

  Malachi returned and carefully removed the old dressing from Rachel’s leg. He smeared on a smelly salve and wrapped it snugly in a new length of cloth. Then he stood.

  “It’s just about time. Mr. deBaptiste’s steamship is docked at the river and will be leaving in about two hours. These two need to be on it, along with some others I know of, but Burrows complicates things. If he’s poking around, I’ll lay a false trail and lead him out of town.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll swap clothing with Abraham. Tie some to my feet to leave the scent.”

  “Will that fool a bloodhound?”

  “They’ll smell it. Don’t know if they’ll follow it, but I have to try.”

  “What will I do?”

  Malachi was quiet a long time. “I was going to ask you to come with me, but I spoke hastily this afternoon. It’s not a good idea.”

  Emily bristled. “Why not?”

  “Because—” he looked her up and down. “Because it’s not safe,” he finished lamely.

  He didn’t think she could do it, she realized, just like he hadn’t thought she could muck out the barn. Her eyes flashed. “Malachi Watson, you think I can’t keep up with you? That I’m not brave enough?”

  He looked at the wall, and at the hay, but not at her.

  “I’m going!” she exclaimed hotly, and she began tugging at the sash on her dress.

  He scowled, “Emily, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  She started on the buttons.

  “Your uncle will never let you.”

  She fixed him with a wicked glare, and he could see the battle was lost. With a sigh of resignation, he woke Abraham and they shambled to the other end of the barn.

  As she gloated, Emily suddenly remembered the fine material under her fingers. She hesitated, caressing her beautiful gown.

  Beside her, Rachel made an I-thought-so kind of noise. Emily locked eyes with her and shimmied out of the dress.

  The slave girl quickly removed her own shift and stepped into Emily’s pantalettes, petticoat, and gown and stood with her brown feet sticking out the bottom.

  Emily looked regretfully at her shoes, tossed in the hay.

  “Keep ‘em,” Rachel told her. “You need ‘em more’n I do.”

  When they stepped from behind the hay, Abraham’s eyes grew round. “Rachel, you’s a fine lady!”

  The girl shyly spread out the smooth fabric.

  Malachi handed them each a bundle. Emily couldn’t be sure, but they appeared to be wrapped in familiar gray cloth and tied with shapeless, knitted mufflers.

  Just then, the big door slid open to reveal the silhouettes of Isaac and both horses.

  “Where’s Burrows?” Malachi whispered.

  Emily could hear her uncle hitching the team to the wagon. “He left on a wild goose chase, but he’s back already and mad as all get out. You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “We should have found someone to trade with the girl. Two would be better.”

  Malachi opened his mouth, but Emily silenced him with a shake of her head. “Her name is Rachel,” he said instead.

  “Well, get her and her brother under the tarp, and cover yourself as well. I’ll drop you first. When I get there, I’ll stop the wagon for a five count. If you head due east, the hounds can’t help but cross you on their way to the river. I’ll wait for you in the old Beubien barn.”

  The wagon bed was already arranged with a pile of hay. Several lumpy sacks sat off to one side, along with a few tools and a huge crosscut saw. The tarp was draped haphazardly across the back and partially covered with the hay. Isaac never even looked back as they scampered under it.

  Emily scrunched up as small as she could make herself. Abraham’s knee was in her back and the heavy canvas fabric stunk like mildew, but she hardly noticed. Her heart finally realized what her body was about to do and began to thunder in protest.

  She heard a sprinkling of hay scatter over the top of the tarp, then the wagon swayed as Isaac climbed up and clucked to the horses. And with a lurch, Emily embarked on the most terrifying night of her life.

  Chapter 19

  They’d hardly started when a booming
voice hailed them. “Milford!”

  Emily recognized Mr. Thatcher at once. She willed her uncle to drive on past, but he pulled up the horses and addressed the mill owner. “Hello, William. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Just on my way to a card game. But I ran into Burrows near your place. He’s looking for a couple runaway kids. Told me to keep my eyes open.”

  “Sure. He told me, too.”

  “He’s a good man, that Burrows. There ought to be stiffer penalties for helping slaves sneak through here. What’cha got in the wagon?”

  Emily gulped and prayed the others would remain still.

  “Not much. John Harrison couldn’t meet the steamer today so I picked up his order, but I wasn’t about to deliver that saw on horseback.”

  Mr. Thatcher guffawed loudly.

  “I’ll keep a look out for anything suspicious,” Isaac promised and slapped the lines on the horses.

  Emily dared to breathe again, and too soon the wagon jerked to another stop. Malachi tapped her knee and shimmied over the edge of the wagon bed. She followed as quickly as she could. Her uncle kept his eyes to the front as if, by not looking, he could protect them from other unwelcome glances.

  Emily met Rachel’s eyes as she dropped to the ground. “Good luck,” she whispered as the wagon started up again. She took a steadying breath and caught sight of Malachi waving her into a dark doorway.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the strip of linen in her hand.

  She held it up. Her hand was shaking. “Rachel’s bandage.” She hastily tied it around one of her shoes, praying it would fool the hounds yet hoping it would not.

  Her teeth began to chatter. The night was mild, but her shift was short and thin and her legs were bare. “What do we do now?”

  “Follow me. Stay in the shadows as much as possible and move quickly. The pickup point is a few miles off.”

  “What happens if Burrows finds us?”

  “We run faster. Come on!”

  They fled between buildings that looked far less forbidding by the light of day. The darkness felt heavy, and the occasional passerby turned to watch them flee. But the road was smooth and straight, and they covered ground quickly. After they crossed the railroad track the buildings began to thin out.

  The land broadened and the road narrowed, becoming muddy and rutted as they passed between farms. Emily tripped and slid, glancing behind, gasping for breath. She had never raced this far, and she was thankful now for all the hard work that had made her muscles strong and taut.

  Finally Malachi slowed. “We should have some time before Burrows finds our trail. Let’s catch our breath.”

  They didn’t stop but hustled along at something less than a run. Soon Emily’s breathing regulated enough to ask a question Rachel had prompted. “Malachi, if our slaves at Ella Wood really hate it there, like Rachel said, why do you suppose Zeke stayed after Uncle Isaac freed him?”

  “Zeke chose to follow your mother. That’s an important distinction.”

  “But if he was free, why not go do what he wanted?”

  “Think about it, Emily. Slavery was all he’d ever known. He was an old man when your uncle freed him. How many choices were open to him?”

  She changed the subject. “How far do we have to go?”

  “Straight along this road, then cut over to the river. We’re probably nearing halfway.”

  “Good.” She jogged along, feeling more at ease. “I watched you change Rachel’s bandage. I think you’ll make a fine doctor.”

  He smiled. “And I think—”

  A distant baying cut him off and tightened his smile. Fear dumped itself into Emily’s gut like it was poured from a pail.

  “Let’s go!”

  Malachi rocketed down the road, and Emily struggled to keep her feet under her in the mud. She watched Malachi nearly go down in front of her. A moment later, he clambered over the rail fence alongside the road. “The field is flatter,” he said, helping her over.

  They struggled through a meadow choked with last year’s growth and picked up speed over a hayfield. They passed through field after field, tearing through briars, sliding through mud, pushing through woods, flitting from tree to tree, dark and silent as black moonbeams. Emily’s legs burned and her breath came in great, gulping pants, but the memory of Rachel’s slashed leg kept her pounding ahead of the dogs, hoping Malachi knew where he was going.

  The sound of baying grew steadily louder behind them.

  “This way!” Malachi veered off the road and splashed into a small creek. “Maybe they’ll lose our trail in the water.”

  The creek wasn’t deep, but the bottom was uneven, and it splattered all the way up Emily’s thigh. She clenched her teeth against water still as cold as winter’s breath.

  They followed the creek under a fence and through a field of cows. Startled from their warm spring beds, the cows lunged to their feet and ran lowing across the field.

  In the open space, the stars unrolled across the sky: the scorpion, Hercules, and the great dipper all in their familiar places. And above them all, the North Star was the hinge that held them in position.

  The North Star! The Candle Star, guiding them, showing the way! Now she knew Malachi was indeed holding them to their direction. They were headed east.

  The creek rounded a bend and flowed beneath a canopy of trees. By this time Emily’s feet had gone quite numb, and in the dark she tripped over a fallen log and fell headlong into the water.

  She came up spluttering and shivering, choking on the water streaming down her face. Malachi dragged her out of the creek and up the bank and set her down in a patch of grass.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak through her chattering teeth.

  “Emily, I’m sorry. I never should have let you come. It was foolish of me.” He smacked his fist on his knee in frustration and anger. “I sure wish you hadn’t stumbled through that barn door this afternoon!”

  Emily was regretting that too, but there was nothing to do now but keep moving. She raised herself to her feet, shivering violently.

  “M-Malachi,” she chattered, “what will happen if w-we’re caught?”

  “You will return home, to your parents’ embarrassment.”

  “And you?”

  He shrugged.

  “You’d g-go to jail, wouldn’t you?”

  “If I’m lucky.”

  She gasped, suddenly realizing the cost of Malachi’s gamble. “You could be taken as a slave!”

  “Mr. Milford would never allow that.” But his voice was strained.

  “W-what if he didn’t know?” Why had she insisted on coming along? She was only slowing him down.

  “Come on, we still have a lot of ground to cover. And take that rag off your foot!”

  She saw he had already discarded his. She yanked the bandage loose and tucked it inside her shift.

  She could hear the dogs getting closer and closer. She saw again a vision of the bloody slash on Rachel’s leg, and she ran. Over fields and fences and streams, wondering just how far they had traveled.

  She ran like a stalked creature. She thought of the stories her brother told of hunting in the woods back home, of how raccoons could outwit a dog. Sometimes they would escape by climbing above the reach of a dog’s nose and traveling tree to tree like a squirrel. Other times they might run along a fence rail and drop back to the ground far from the point they climbed up. They would even double back. They were wily creatures, raccoons.

  Just then they broke out of a glade of trees. Moonlight bathed the field beyond, illuminating a barn at the far end. A barn with an odd silhouette. With a jolt, Emily recognized it.

  “Malachi, is this where we came for the state fair last fall?” she panted.

  “I think so. Yeah. I see the platform on top of the barn where that fellow in the glider rolled off.”

  Her heart leaped. “Come on, I have an idea!”

  She raced toward th
e barn, hoping the tall platform meant the heavy guy wires were still there, supporting the structure, stretching fifty yards beyond the barn.

  They were! She almost tripped on one as they approached.

  Malachi hesitated. “If we go in the barn, we’re sitting ducks.”

  “Not in the barn, on it,” she corrected. “Climb!”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he mumbled as they grabbed hold of the scaffolding and began pulling themselves up.

  It didn’t take long. From the top of the platform they could look out over the surrounding fields. The river sparkled not far away.

  “Look!” Malachi exclaimed in a loud whisper. “The dogs!”

  The baying was loud and clear now. Both animals could be seen only a quarter of a mile away.

  Emily found where the guy wires attached to the scaffolding. She grabbed hold of the thick cable, swung her legs around, and started shimmying down.

  “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” Malachi hissed.

  “I’m being a raccoon.”

  “You’re what?”

  “If we can fool Burrows’ hounds into thinking we’re in the barn, it will take some time for the men to come up and realize we’re not.”

  Malachi sucked in his breath and quickly latched onto the cable behind her. Before the dogs came galloping across the barnyard, the children were racing through the trees on the far side.

  The hounds set up a racket inside the barn, and Emily and Malachi hugged each other joyfully.

  “How far?” Emily whispered.

  “Just down the road and to the river. We’re almost there.”

  “Good. I’m about played out.”

  Seven minutes later, a rickety barn loomed up in the darkness. They could still hear the hounds baying in the distance. Malachi called out, and Isaac drove out of the barn. “Get in.”

  They wasted no time. Isaac slapped the reins and the team took off down the road. After a safe distance, Isaac pulled over. They were on a bulge of land that jutted out slightly into the river, and they had a good view of the water rolling back in either direction. Lights in Canada twinkled across the expanse of black velvet water, and Belle Isle sprawled low in front of them.

  Isaac turned to them, his voice tight. “Emily when I saw that child get out of the wagon in your dress—” his voice caught. “What were you thinking, girl?”