Every Hill and Mountain

by Deborah Heal

  As the screen lifted, a mural painted on the wall beneath it was revealed. The title, on a banner at the top of the mural, was History of Gallatin County. Dozens of people were portrayed, representing the early civil and military leaders and ordinary citizens—farmers, laborers, and housewives—who had played roles in the development of the county. Prominent in the center of the mural were wooden barrels labeled Salt. Beside them black slaves labored at the industry upon which the Gallatin County economy had been founded. In the sanitized depiction before them, the slaves wore simple but glowing white shirts and trousers and happily worked away, apparently content to expend their lives for the benefit of the citizens of Illinois. A status they had no hope of attaining.

  Abby’s heart did a strange gallop, and she thought she might vomit. She had to get outside. Quick. She started to edge past John, but an elderly black man wearing a green uniform stood behind her, broom in hand, watching the courtroom. Seeing Abby’s panicky attempt to leave, he stepped aside and released a dry, rusty chuckle. “You look a mite upset by our famous mural. I’d venture to say you’re not from around these parts.”

  “It’s disgusting,” Ryan said.

  “Yeah. Well. You know.” He chuckled again. “At least they cover it up when court’s in session,” he said philosophically as he pushed his broom down the hall.

  They sat on the steps of the First Bank of Illinois, grateful for its shade, while they watched the Ohio River roll by a short distance away. Abby had read about the bank in the brochure. But when they had followed Route One down for a quick peek at Old Shawneetown before leaving, she still hadn’t been prepared for the sight of the colossal bank sitting all alone on the abandoned street. The bank had once held the money made by the sweat and blood of slaves. Mighty King Salt, Abby thought and then remembered Shelley’s poem.

  ‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

  Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’

  Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

  Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

  The lone and level sands stretch far away.

  She realized she’d quoted it aloud when John gave her a look. No sand around, of course, just a muddy riverbank and an empty road that dead-ended where the town once sat. A tugboat pushing a barge upriver tooted as it passed under the Kentucky bridge just downstream from them. She imagined herself further back in time, before the bridge, when, according to the brochure, an enterprising pioneer named Barker had made a living ferrying people across the Ohio in his boat.

  Earlier in the summer Abby had learned that Alton, a Mississippi River town on Illinois’ western boundary, had been an important entry point for slaves escaping from Missouri. Hundreds, if not thousands, had been conducted through Alton on the Underground Railroad north to safety, helped by the Miles family, among many others.

  But here on the eastern boundary, slaves coming from Kentucky and points south had the Ohio River to contend with. Had they sighed in relief to be in the free state of Illinois only to find themselves re-enslaved at the salt mines of Gallatin County? How long had it taken them to find out they weren’t safe? Not yet. A worse thought came to Abby, and she struggled to get her head around the idea. Ned Greenfield was born a slave in the land of Lincoln. If she were to go down to the riverbank and cup the water in her hands for a drink, would it taste salty? The Saline River emptied into the Ohio. But how many tears of fear, anger, pain, and disappointment had also added their saltiness through the years?

  John picked up a flat pebble and skimmed it across the empty street. Abby snapped out of her reverie and turned to Kate. She was still watching the barge being pushed up river. Her eyes were red and her hair blew unnoticed into her face. Ryan was patting her ineffectually on the back.

  “Don’t worry, Kate,” Abby said. “We’ll go back and time-surf back until we find out the connection between them.”

  “Sorry, Abby,” John said. “But that theory the librarian had about the white Ned Greenfield owning the slave Ned Greenfield? Well, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense if he was born at Granger’s Hickory Hill mansion.”

  Seeing Kate’s misery, John’s expression softened. “We’ll figure out something.”

  Ryan took Kate by her shoulders and looked into her face. “Kathryn, I don’t think there’s any connection between that slave and your ancestors. You and your mom just got the wrong Greenfield, that’s all. Maybe he’s not even named Ned. Let’s just leave before we waste any more time in this place. When we get back to Chicago I’ll—”

  “No, not yet. Let’s try a little longer.”

  Abby flipped her phone open. “I’ll call Patty Ann and see if she had any luck with Miss Granger.”

  The phone number Patty Ann had given Abby was to their landline. She didn’t own a cell phone. She left a message on the answering machine for her and decided to call Merri while she waited for her to call back.

  Unlike Patty Ann, Merri picked up on the first ring, as if she had been waiting by the phone.

  “So when are you getting home?” Merri asked. “Mom said we can call out for pizza again tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, Merri, we won’t be there in time for pizza. We’ve been following the wrong Ned Greenfield, a black slave. We’re going to do a little more time-surfing and follow him in case he leads to the right Ned Greenfield that connects to Kate’s relatives in Chicago.”

  “Hey, maybe you’ll meet up with that guy from Charlotte’s attic,” Merri said. “He was going to Chicago.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Have you been time-surfing?”

  “No, it’s not working, dang it. You know? The man we saw when we time-surfed with Kate.”

  Abby’s phone chirped. “I’ve got to go, Merri. I’ve got a call coming in.”

  “Okay. Call me later.”

  Abby switched over to Patty Ann. “Hey, we’re almost back to Equality. What did you find out from Miss Granger?”

  “She seems to be fine,” Patty Ann said. “So y’all can go see her. Only don’t go in until I get there.”

  “Good,” Abby said. “Because we didn’t find any more information in Shawneetown. Except, did you know that the salt mine used to be worked by slaves? The free state of Illinois actually used slaves to—”

  “Of course, I know that,” Patty Ann said. “Everyone around these parts knows that. But no one in Equality wants you writing about all that horrible stuff. It’ll ruin any chance we have for tourism.”

  “We are not writing a book,” Abby said. “We’re only trying to—”

  “You know that and I know that, but lots of other people don’t know that. Why do you think everyone’s so worked up? I’ve got to hang up so I can get over to Miss Granger’s before you beat me there.”

  “Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

  Chapter 21

  Abby looked up from where she sat on Miss Granger’s loveseat as Patty Ann came in from the kitchen. “Any luck, you guys?” she whispered.

  John paused the action. “Look,” he said, pointing to the monitor, “We found Ned again. The sheriff brought him here.”

  “He looks terrible.”

  “At least they didn’t lynch him,” Abby said. “There’s no sign of his brother Nelson.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Patty Ann said. “As horrible as what we saw at the church was…well, it’s nothin’ compared to what you might find here.”

  “It’s the only way left to find the right Ned Greenfield,” John said.

  “Well, then you better hurry with it. Supper is almost ready.”

  “It was really sweet of her to invite us to stay for dinner,” Abby said.

  Patty Ann grinned. “Yeah, well, you may change your mind when you taste it. I’ll stall as long as I can.”

  John Granger opened his front door and stepped out onto the porch with his lantern. When he saw the boy looking lifeless at the end of the rope he cursed and came forward. “You fools! I told you to take it eas
y. He won’t do me any good if you’ve ripped it off of him.” He tipped him over onto his back with the toe of his boot. “All right. He’ll do.”

  Sheriff Dobbs got down from his horse and tied the reins to Granger’s porch. “Where do you want him, John?”

  “Have your boys take him upstairs.”

  Dobbs nodded and his men untied Ned. One man took his feet and another his hands and carried him over the threshold. When they started up the stairs, Ned’s head bounced over the first few steps.

  “For crying out loud. Watch his head,” Dobbs said, adding a curse.

  “Well, give us some help here. He’s huge.”

  Dobbs went up the steps and grabbed Ned’s waistband. The man at his head adjusted his grip on Ned’s shoulders, and they lugged him up to the second floor. A door opened, and Martha stuck her head out, her dark hair primly covered with a lace nightcap.

  “You go on back to sleep, dear.” Granger shut the door in her face and turned back to the sheriff and his men. “We’ve got to get him up another flight of stairs. There at the end of the hall. Here, let me go first with the light.”

  Patty Ann came to the door again. “Supper’s ready. You’ll have to stop for now.”

  John closed the laptop and rose from the loveseat, apparently eager to eat again.

  Kate went to Patty Ann. “Do you think it’s possible…would Miss Granger allow us to go upstairs?”

  “Maybe,” she answered. “You could ask to have a tour. Brag on the house. She’s very proud of it.”

  They sat at one end of a huge mahogany table meant to seat twenty. Patty Ann brought chipped china bowls of chili and distributed packages of cheese crackers. And their choice of water or sweet tea.

  “Patty Ann,” Miss Granger said, “you say the blessing, why don’t you? It won’t do a bit of good if I do it.”

  She bowed her head and thanked God for the gift of salvation and asked him to bless the food, Miss Granger, and her new friends.

  When Patty Ann finished, Miss Granger smiled at each of them in turn. “Eat up, everyone. There is plenty more chili in the pantry. Patty Ann gets it at Anderson’s for me.”

  “It’s delicious,” Abby lied.

  “I don’t like the kind with peanut butter.”

  “Nope,” Patty Ann said and patted her arm. “I always get the cheesy crackers for you.”

  “Did you know I once danced with Abraham Lincoln? Right here at Hickory Hill. In the ballroom upstairs. The walls are made to fold back whenever we have dances up there. We all wore our fancy dresses and—”

  Patty Ann frowned and took the woman’s hand. “Now, Miss Granger, you know the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to read the diary any more.”

  Her smile was watery. “I’m sorry. I get confused sometimes.”

  “I know you do. But you’re fine now,” Patty Ann said. “I’ve got a good idea. After supper, why don’t we make brownies for your guests?”

  “That’s a superb idea, Patty Ann.”

  Kate smiled her best smile. “Miss Granger, we really love old houses.”

  “We do,” Abby added.

  “Your house is wonderful,” Kate said. “Would you mind if we looked around?”

  “Why, certainly. This house has been in my family since 1834. Lincoln once visited here and—”

  “That’s great.” Kate stood and began to gather their bowls.

  “Oh, no,” Miss Granger said. “You’re our guests.”

  “Y’all go on.” Patty Ann waved them away with a speaking glance. “We’ll let you know when the brownies are done. It doesn’t take long, you know. To make brownies.”

  “Okay,” Abby said. “We’ll hurry.”

  Chapter 22

  The second floor of the Granger mansion was much the same as the first. The wallpaper was just as garish. Other than that, the walls looked ordinary, and Abby couldn’t imagine them folding back to form a ballroom. Either that was a figment of Miss Granger’s imagination, or someone had renovated the walls. Not wanting to take advantage of Miss Granger’s hospitality, they only peeked in the rooms. The six bedrooms were filled to capacity with the same dark, over-sized, and over-ornamented furniture.

  “Let’s just sit here in the hall to time-surf,” Abby said.

  “The sheriff took Ned to the third floor,” John said. “Only I don’t see any stairs.”

  “They must be in one of the bedrooms,” Kate said.

  “They wouldn’t put the staircase in a bedroom,” Ryan said. “It would be in the hall. Obviously.” He walked down to the far end of the hall and entered the bathroom. “But if the bathroom was added later—since obviously they didn’t have indoor plumbing in 1834—then maybe…”

  Abby and the others crowded together at the door to look in. Like everything else, the bathroom was oversized. It was paneled in boxcar siding that at one time had probably been painted white but was now yellowed with age. Just inside on the left was a small door of the same material set flush with the wall. A padlock dangled, unlocked, from a bracket high on the door.

  Ryan removed it and opened the door, smiling smugly. “And there you are.”

  Inside was a dark, narrow staircase, not nearly as grand as the main one to the second floor. John pulled out his flashlight and aimed it up the stairwell. A thick layer of dust covered the steps, indicating no one had swept them for a very long time. Footprints in the dust meant someone had been using them recently.

  John started up the stairs. They creaked loudly, but Kate followed gamely after him. Ryan politely offered Abby the chance to go next, but she waved him on.

  The third floor was one open room, a garret really. Although there was plenty of daylight left outside, the room was dim because the windows in the gables of the roof were boarded up.

  Even so, they provided enough light to see what the third floor held. Ryan cursed and then Abby saw why.

  Twelve sets of chains with manacles were set into the walls at equal distances. And chains hung also from the three support posts in the center of the room. Abby went to the one nearest her and knelt. At the end of the chain was a rusty neck collar resting on the floor.

  “What is this place?” Kate asked, her voice hollow and strained.

  John grimaced and his nostrils flared as if he had picked up a disgusting smell. “Ned Greenfield’s new home.” He opened his laptop and launched Beautiful Houses.

  The lantern flickered over the walls and low ceiling. A chain hung from a post in the center of the room. “Bring him closer,” Granger said.

  The sheriff and his men lay Ned beside the post and Granger pulled the chain up until he found the wide collar at the end of it. He knelt beside the boy and lifted his head to slip the collar in place. When he turned the key the lock clicked loudly.

  Ned’s eyes opened. “Master Granger?”

  “You’ll be all right, boy. I’ll take care of you.” Granger drew up Ned’s shirtsleeve and squeezed his bicep. “Just look at all that muscle. I’ve been watching you grow, boy.” He stood and looked proudly down at him. “Just look how big he is, Dobbs. Big all over, I’ll just bet.”

  The men snickered and slapped their knees. “You fools go on down,” Granger said. “We’ve got to let Ned rest up.”

  “Nelson? Where’s Nelson, Master Granger? Is he hanged?”

  “Why in Hades would I waste a good man? I’ll put him to work at Half Moon. Soon as he’s healed up.”

  Ned groaned and put his hands up to cover his face.

  “Didn’t you hear me, boy? He’s not hanged.” Granger’s face and teeth were yellow in the lantern light. “But I daresay you’ll find your new job more…pleasurable than he does his.”

  Master Granger moved away and the door closed. The key grated in the lock and the footsteps grew soft and were gone.

  Ned wept until he had no more tears. When he opened his eyes, the moon shone in from a window high on the wall. Even that soft light hurt his eyes, so he closed them again. His head still felt like an axe
was buried in it, but even so, he could think now.

  No sense denying he was scared. But mostly, he decided, he was surprised he wasn’t hanging from a tree, swaying in the wind. Unless they’d lynched him and he was too stubborn to know he was dead. He reached up to feel for rope burns and found instead a metal collar. Yes, he remembered. Master Granger had put it on him.

  A whispered voice came to her, and for a moment Abby was confused about where she was—or rather when she was.

  “Abby? John? It’s me, Brother Greenfield. I’m coming up. I don’t mean to startle you.”

  It was much darker, most of the light gone from the windows. Only the glow from the computer showed Abby where everyone was. Then she saw Brother Greenfield as he reached the third floor. Patty Ann came in behind him.

  “Hello.” John paused the action and shown his flashlight at the feet of the newcomers.

  “Miss Granger went on to bed. I think she forgot y’all were here. So I called Brother Greenfield….”

  Matching expressions of horror played over Patty Ann and Brother Greenfield’s faces the moment they spotted the chains.

  “There have been tales that Granger kept his kidnapped victims on the third floor,” Brother Greenfield said. “I had no idea the evidence of it would still be here.”

  “So this wasn’t part of the Underground Railroad, then,” Patty Ann said.

  “No, honey,” Brother Greenfield said. “I think that rumor got started because it made for better PR around town. In the black community, the story is that John Granger was part of a network that kidnapped free blacks and sold them into slavery in the South.”

  “A Reverse Underground Railroad,” John said.

  “She has to know this is here,” Patty Ann said. “That’s why she’s been so set on me not cleanin’ up here.”