Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana

by Melanie Dobson

  She waved her hand in front of her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It wasn’t just some ‘Negro woman,’ Esther. The man was trying to hurt your housekeeper.”

  The name escaped from her lips in a gasp. “Greta?”

  “Yes, Greta.” He snatched his paper off the table. “And it’s people like you who sit back in their pretty, protected homes and let him do it.”

  Anger burst in his gut when she didn’t reply. He was sorry his sister was tired, but he couldn’t stay here and listen to her demean “these people,” as she called them. Nor could he tolerate her silence when she refused to defend the woman who cared so much for her.

  He grabbed his hat and coat before he stomped out of the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dry leaves crunched under Marie’s feet as she and five others pressed through the dark, tangled brush. With Peter swaddled in a blanket tied over her chest, she couldn’t see her feet, so she tested each step before she took it. In spite of Mrs. Adeline’s fine boots and the bandage, pricks of sharp pain shot up her right foot. Her leg throbbed with every step, and her face and arms were icy cold in the night air.

  Neither the pain nor the cold would stop her. No matter how many more hours they had to walk. No matter how many more days it would take to reach Canada. There was nothing that could make her turn back.

  She had to keep moving, keep fighting. This run wasn’t about her or her feet, no matter how much they hurt, or even her personal freedom.

  This was about finding a safe home for her son.

  Except Auntie Rae, the other runaways in their group walked far in front of her like they’d done ever since Peter had cried out from Miss Anna’s wagon. It didn’t help that the deputy had been looking for her. They all treated her like she was cursed.

  Marie’s lips brushed over the top of the wool blanket. Peter was wrapped so close to her that she could feel the steady rhythm of his breath on her breast. It made her happy, knowing he rested even as they ran through the night. His contentment seemed to renew her strength, and she marched forward through the brush, forgetting for a moment the pain in her foot.

  “On my knees when the light pass’d by, I thank God I’m free at last,” she hummed quietly. “Tho’t my soul would rise and fly, I thank God I’m free at last.”

  When she was a child, her mama used to sing “Free at Last” to comfort her in the shadows of night. Others hummed the spiritual around the plantation and even in the house, but no one ever sang the lyrics except in the privacy of their own rooms or cabins.

  They may not have sung the words in public, but even as they hummed it, all the slaves knew what it meant. They were dreaming of freedom. Longing for it.

  Marie glanced up at the starlit sky. The tip of the Drinking Gourd pointed them toward Canada—like the flame burning the wick of a candlestick, its brightness always climbing upward and away from the narrowed mold. It was almost as if God was guiding them north with the stars. Calling them to be free.

  She started humming again until the man in front of her hushed the music from her lips.

  Earl was the conductor to their next station. If you were going to find your way to Canada, you had to listen to the conductor and do exactly as he or she said or you’d be caught for sure. Marie stopped humming, but the lyrics sang on in her mind.

  Auntie Rae took her hand and squeezed it as if to say that she understood the music.

  In front of them was a small clearing, and Earl signaled for them to stop. Huddling close around his candle, light danced across their dark faces, and she could see both fear and hope in the eyes of her friends. Marie reached out her fingers to feel the heat from the flame.

  Earl whispered so low that she had to step even closer to hear him. “This is where I take leave of you.”

  They all knew it was coming; most conductors didn’t take their passengers all the way to the next station. No one told her why, but she guessed it was to lower the risk of them all being caught. None of their group wanted to say good-bye to Earl, but they had no choice.

  The man’s words sped up as he pointed to the side of the clearing. “Straight ahead you will pass an old homestead before you come to a cornfield. Turn right and walk through the field.”

  “Right.” George repeated the direction so Earl knew they understood.

  Earl nodded. “Go north through the cornfield about a quarter mile.”

  With one hand on Peter’s back, she gazed up at the bright mantle of stars and saw the gourd, its tip the brightest of all, pointing them north. She’d never been more grateful for the stars.

  “On the other side of the field is a brick house and a family of Quakers. If there’s a flag hanging over their porch railing, it’s safe for you to knock.”

  George shook Earl’s hand and promised the man that he’d get their small group to safety before daylight. Earl didn’t prolong the good-bye. He wished them Godspeed and then disappeared into the trees behind them.

  Marie trailed the others up the path, and in the starlight, she could see the outbuildings of the abandoned homestead. Chicken coops. An outhouse. The root cellar. A brick smokehouse.

  It was peaceful out here. Serene. Peter stirred against her, and she whispered softly for him to go back to sleep. Soon they would arrive at the next safe house and she could feed him for the night. Soon he would be warm and dry and content again.

  A dog barked behind her, and she stiffened. There were wild dogs in the forest, packs of them. She took a long breath. No dog would hurt them if they stuck together.

  At least it wasn’t the cry of a panther.

  Her pace quickened when she heard another dog bark behind her. But then, like a roll of thunder echoing across a plain, she heard a familiar pounding.

  Her heart raced so quickly that it almost blocked the thoughts in her mind. The horses weren’t moving fast through the overgrowth, but they were moving. Faster than she could run.

  She turned in shock and stared into the trees. The dim cast of a lantern forded through the darkness. Then a shout drowned out the bark of the dogs, and in an instant she knew.

  Master Owens had found her.

  Her mind screamed for her to run, and she obeyed, sprinting forward. She had to get away from her master. Had to protect her son.

  The other runaways scattered in front of her. Her eyes focused on the dark path, but she couldn’t see her feet.

  It wasn’t a log that tripped her. It was a shoelace that snagged her foot and sent her sprawling. She rolled to her back when she landed on the leaves, shielding Peter from the fall, but he woke with a jolt and screamed out in the night.

  The horses were getting closer now. And the dogs.

  Wild with fear, Marie lifted herself up and scanned the buildings beside her. She couldn’t take Peter with her. Not right now. They couldn’t outrun the horses together.

  She’d distract the hunters. Take them away from her baby and the others. Then she’d come back in the morning and get Peter and they’d go together to the house on the other side of the field.

  The ground under her shook. The horses were almost here.

  She ripped off her new boots and threw them on the ground. Then she kissed Peter on the head and wrapped her cloak around him.

  Flinging open the door to the smokehouse, she saw the barrels and equipment that had been left behind. There was a rug, rolled up and standing against the wall. She pulled it down and quickly placed Peter on it. Then she tucked the blanket under him and dropped her pack beside him.

  Suddenly she knew with clarity that she wouldn’t need the pack anymore. She had come as far as she was supposed to in this journey. God would now have to carry Peter the rest of the way.

  She just couldn’t let Master Owens find her baby.

  She kissed Peter for the last time, no time for tears. When she shut the door, his cries were muffled through the brick wall, but Master Owens would still be able to hear them.

  He couldn’t come this way. />
  Marie ran the opposite direction, adrenaline numbing the pain in her bare foot. Nothing else mattered now except to get the hunters away from her child.

  When she reached the cornfield, she screamed once. Twice.

  The horses turned away from Peter, toward her. The tip of the gourd pointed ahead so she turned and ran south. Corn batted her face and hands as she zigzagged through the tall stalks. The longer it took for the dogs to catch her, the farther away they would be from Peter.

  She yelled as she ran, and she knew they heard her. They were galloping now. The dogs almost on her heels.

  All she could do was run. Pray.

  She pleaded with God to deafen the hunters’ ears and open the ears of someone who could help her son. She prayed that George and Auntie Rae and the others wouldn’t get caught. She prayed that God would free Peter’s body and save his soul.

  Not once did she pray for herself, for there was nothing left to pray. Tonight she was going home to her mama and her Maker. She only hoped she could get the horses and dogs as far away as possible from Peter before she left this world.

  Peace infiltrated her soul, mercy blanketing her fear. Without Earl or anyone else to stop her, she sang out loud and strong. Songs about heaven and rivers and Jesus dying on the cross for her.

  The dogs were panting now, parting the corn behind her. She was so close now. Close to the light.

  Teeth tore into her skirts and her skin as they dragged her to the ground. The dogs snarling above her, she balled up like a caterpillar, instinct protecting her head and her face until she heard the voice of Master Owens.

  When she looked up, she saw the face of her earthly master sneering down at her. Sometimes his face was kind, almost compassionate to her, but in the shadows that moved across his face, all she saw was fury—and she knew what that meant.

  In one swift move, he pulled her hair down, forcing her head back. Then he punched her in the stomach.

  “Where’s the baby?” he growled.

  Behind him stood two men with whips in hand. If they knew where Peter was hidden, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her child.

  “Gone,” she choked. “I done lost him a month ago.”

  “What do you mean you lost him?”

  “He died.” She shook her head. “Died ’fore he was borned.”

  There was no baby left for them to find.

  Master Owens lifted his hand, and the black hunter handed him a whip.

  Marie looked up at the North Star above them as a soft breeze fluttered through the corn. Freedom was so close now. Just beyond the night. She was going home.

  She barely felt the whip on her back.

  “Some of these mornings, bright and fair, I thank God I’m free at last. Goin’ meet King Jesus in the air, I thank God I’m free at last.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Woven into the braids of forest below Liberty was a whitewashed meetinghouse built to last a hundred years. It was rare that an outsider visited the Silver Creek Meeting, though the faithful met every Sabbath Day in its walls without fail.

  In the winter, they rode their sleighs to Meeting, toasting their feet with soapstone and covering their clothing with woolen blankets. In the summer, many of them walked from Liberty, swinging picnic baskets filled with cold meat and jars of lemonade.

  Today Anna, Edwin, and Charlotte were riding down the well-traveled road toward the meetinghouse where the Salem Meeting and the Salem Anti-Slavery Meeting would converge with the Silver Creek Meeting, setting aside their differences for one morning, to witness the marriage ceremony of Rachel Logue and Luke Barnes. Luke and his family attended the Salem Anti-Slavery Meeting, but their marriage had been approved by the Silver Creek elders and members of which Rachel was a part.

  There would be no fanfare at this wedding like the ceremonies held at the churches in town. Luke and Rachel would simply stand up at the end of the service, say their vows, and sign a marriage certificate to become husband and wife.

  Rachel didn’t need a flowing dress or flowers or music to make this day special. Anna had never known anyone as deeply and completely in love as Rachel and Luke. Her friend was so blinded by her adoration for this man that even if the meetinghouse were filled with hundreds of roses, she probably wouldn’t see the blooms. Her eyes would be solely on Luke and his eyes on her. A few hours from now, Rachel would leave the Meeting with Luke instead of her parents, and together they would enter the world of the happily married.

  Anna was glad for her friend, truly glad, but the day was a clear reminder of something Anna would never have.

  She reached her fingers into her pocket and felt the envelope waiting for delivery to Isaac. At least she would always have her writing and her work on the line.

  Charlotte tapped on her shoulder, and Anna forced herself to stop thinking about writing and weddings. When she turned her head to the back seat of the buggy, Charlotte pointed at Edwin in the driver’s seat and nodded her head toward him.

  Anna knew exactly what Charlotte wanted her to do, but she still didn’t want to tell her father about the visit from Noah Owens. Charlotte was right, of course. Keeping this information was almost the same as lying, or maybe it was lying.

  She didn’t want her father to be afraid for her, especially for her safety. Harboring slaves was dangerous work, and she knew the risks. Nothing would change her mind—not the new act or threats or visits from Tennessee men. But still, he needed to know what happened.

  As calmly as possible, she began to tell him about the visit from Noah Owens.

  Edwin’s voice sharpened in response. “Did he threaten you?”

  Anna thought about the two men and the bloodhounds that stood behind him like she might threaten Noah. “He only wanted to search the house.”

  “Did you let him inside?”

  “The slave hunters and dogs stayed in the yard,” she explained. “I let him look through the house since we didn’t have anyone staying with us.”

  “You should have made him wait until I came home.”

  “He wouldn’t have waited.” Anna tightened her shawl around her shoulders. “He would have gotten a warrant and come back to search whether or not you were home.”

  Their next group of runaways hadn’t arrived yet, but they expected them soon. If Noah had waited to obtain a warrant when the courts opened on Second Day, he may have found them on his return.

  It wouldn’t take much for him to discover the Brents’ secret. Someone could lose a shoe in the bedroom as they ran toward the secret stairs. Or leave the door cracked. Or forget to put the pillows back into the cabinet. Even the simplest sneeze could reveal their hiding place.

  “We have to be more careful, Anna.” Edwin clipped the rein and glanced over at her. “More people are getting injured by men like him.”

  She wanted to protest and say she was being extremely careful, but she didn’t. Noah didn’t seem like the kind of person who would hurt her, but the men outside probably wouldn’t have hesitated if he’d found Marie or another runaway in her home. Her father had already lost the person he’d loved most in the world to cholera last fall. In spite of his strong front, she knew he was afraid he might lose her, too. After her mother died, she thought he would shut the doors to runaways, yet he hadn’t stopped helping them. His calling was even stronger than hers since her mother had been passionate about helping runaways as well.

  Would her mother have been frightened by someone like Noah Owens? Even though she wouldn’t admit it to her father or anyone else, some days Anna was scared to continue. Like her father said, an irate owner like Noah could show up at her front door and take the law into his own hands.

  Yet even with her personal safety at stake, she wasn’t going to stop. God had clearly called her to help these escaped slaves, and she wouldn’t ignore this call.

  Ahead of their buggy was a small pond blackened with the feathers of coots. The birds splashed and gabbled with each other like they were socializing after Meeting, th
e sound so loud that Anna had to lean toward her father to speak. “They aren’t going to catch us.”

  He didn’t look at her. “I’ve been seeking the Spirit, Anna. Asking if He wants us to continue with our work right now or enter a season of rest.”

  His statement jolted her, and she collapsed back against the cushioned seat. She had no idea that her father, like Charlotte, was having doubts about their work. If they were going to continue, they had to stay strong. They were a team.

  “We can’t quit, Father. Not now.”

  A bird flew in front of the buggy to join his flock in the pond.

  “I still have to ask, Anna. Still have to seek.”

  She couldn’t deny him that. They should always be asking, seeking, but she knew what the Light would reveal.

  “The room is packed,” Rachel whispered after Anna climbed down from the buggy and stepped onto the pebbled ground that surrounded the meetinghouse.

  Anna took both of her friend’s trembling hands and squeezed them. Rachel was dressed in a pale pink silk instead of the traditional gray or brown, and even though her hair was covered with her bonnet, Anna knew that Rachel had styled it for herself and her husband-to-be. Around her neck she wore the gold watch and chain that Luke had given her as an engagement present.

  People streamed into the meetinghouse on both sides of them, and Anna could understand why Rachel was nervous. Visitors were rare at Silver Creek, but the wedding of Isaac Barnes’s grandson was something to be attended and talked about, especially since the marriage was taking place among Quakers. The curious would pack their small house since it wasn’t often that one got invited to attend such a peculiar ceremony.

  Luke and Rachel had already gone through the passing meeting and been approved for marriage. Today was only a formality to becoming husband and wife in the eyes of God and His people.

  “Are you nervous?” Anna asked.

  Rachel weaved her fingers through the ribbons that dangled under her chin. “A little.”

  “You look beautiful.”