Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana

by Melanie Dobson

  At the end of the column, Adam wrote that the story was true but the names of Tessa and her child had been changed to protect their identities.

  He dropped the paper, and it fluttered to the floor.

  Adam Frye’s story wasn’t about some unknown slave named Tessa. His story was about Marie and her baby.

  Daniel reached for his clean coat by the door. No wonder Adam Frye wrote with so much emotion and description.

  The writer of the “Liberty Line” was a woman, and Daniel knew exactly where to find her.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  A lantern swung gently in front of Anna and spilled shadows across the bank of Silver Creek. Clutched to her chest was a bouquet of brightly colored irises and chrysanthemum, and she inhaled their sweet aromas as she hiked past the loud hum of Father’s woolen mill and into the refuge of the trees.

  About a quarter of a mile past the mill, she stopped at a brick wall that encircled fourteen graves. There was no fence or iron gate like the cemetery by the meetinghouse, but it was a peaceful place. When her mother died, she and her father had decided to bury her here so they could visit her grave in private instead of having to look out at her stone whenever they went to Meeting, remembering that she was gone.

  Her light flickered across the small stones and wooden markers until she stopped at Lydia Brent’s grave in the second row. She placed the flowers on the grave and then, with the edge of her skirt, she brushed away the three crosses that had been drawn into the loose dirt in front of the headstone. She kissed her fingers and touched the cold marker before she crept away.

  In a tone so subdued that only the creatures nearby could hear, she began to hum her mother’s favorite song. The tune to “Amazing Grace” traveled softly on the breeze, and by the time she reached the second verse, someone had joined her side.

  Anna didn’t look up until she’d finished the stanza, and when she did, she saw a dark-skinned man towering above her. She stood up quickly, afraid for the first time since she’d left the house. Matthew had said that runaways along the creek had hurt other women, but she hadn’t believed him. Maybe she should have listened.

  She thrust out her foot to run when, behind the giant of a man, a girl emerged. She was about eight years old, and her long hair had been woven into braids. Even with the many stains on her white dress, Anna could tell that her torn clothing had once been quite fancy.

  “I’m Reginald.” The man’s voice was as daunting as his stature. “And this is my daughter, Sarah.”

  The girl curtsied. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Anna held out her hand to the girl first and then to the father. “I’m pleased to meet both of you, as well.” Anna picked up her lantern. “Who sent you to me?”

  “A friend of a friend,” Reginald replied.

  “Very good.” She looked over at the creek rushing by them. “We’ve had some unsavory characters patrolling the creek as of late.”

  The man nodded. “Ben told us.”

  “We’ll move quickly, but you should walk thirty paces or so behind me. If you hear horses, there’s a cave just south of here where you can hide.”

  She gave them directions to the cave and explained that she would meet them back here tomorrow night if they were separated.

  The girl reached up and took her father’s hand like they were going on an evening stroll. “We’re ready,” she declared.

  After locking Reginald and his daughter into a small basement room, Anna secured the side door to the mill and hiked back up the hill toward her house. Her father and several workers were running the loom on the main floor until late, but she never saw them. Reginald and Sarah had food and water and plenty of wool blankets to keep them warm for the night. Her father had assured her that no one would find them before he delivered them to the next station tomorrow night.

  She’d wanted to stay with them, to hear the story of where they were from and how they’d found themselves running away, but after learning so much of Marie’s story, she realized that the less she knew was probably better for all of them.

  Opening the back door, she slipped inside the house and headed down into the kitchen to tell Charlotte that her trip had been a success, but she stopped short on the last step. Sitting at the table was Daniel Stanton, mug in hand, chatting with Charlotte like they had known each other for years.

  He stood when he saw her, and she watched as his eyes traveled to her muddy skirt and hands. “I was visiting my mother’s grave,” she stated simply.

  He cocked his head, and she saw dirt smeared on his neck and forehead. “That’s what Charlotte said.”

  Charlotte handed her a mug filled with coffee, and when she did, Anna realized that her teeth were chattering. Had it started while she was outside or after she came in?

  She wrapped her fingers around the ceramic cup and let it warm her hands. “Do you always call on people this late?”

  “Seems like I was a bit early.”

  She sipped the coffee, refusing to let him rattle her, as she sat on the bench across from him. “Are you looking for another debate?”

  “No.” He paused, and she watched the smile on his lips disappear. “I wanted you to know that someone torched the newspaper office today.”

  Her hands started and coffee splashed out of the mug and onto her fingers. “Milton?”

  He reached for a cloth rag by the fireplace and walked toward her. “Possibly, but I doubt we’ll ever be able to prove it.”

  “What’s going to happen to the paper?”

  He handed her the towel, and she began to wipe up the spilled coffee with it. “‘Neither fear nor intimidation will force me to flee this fight.’”

  Her head popped up. “Did you make that up, too?”

  He leaned so close to her that she could smell the smoke on his neck. “No, but I know who did.”

  She backed away from him, searching for Charlotte, but her friend had somehow gone up the staircase unnoticed.

  Daniel was clearly mocking her, but why? Isaac and Hannah were the only ones who knew about her column, and they had both said they would keep it a secret. A Quaker’s word was more binding than an oath.

  For the first time, she noticed a copy of the Independent Weekly on the table beside Daniel, opened to her column. He picked up the paper and read aloud the first three paragraphs about Marie.

  “Adam Frye writes about honesty and liberty,” he said, “but there’s a problem.”

  “What’s that?” she murmured.

  “Adam Frye isn’t an honest man.”

  She tried to meet his stare but couldn’t. The bricks lining the fireplace suddenly caught her attention, and she stared at those instead. “That’s a harsh accusation.”

  “I thought Quakers weren’t supposed to lie.”

  “I believe that Quakers should guard the truth.”

  As he closed the paper, she could feel his gaze on her face. “The truth is what I’m after.”

  “What do you want?” she asked. Her voice sounded smaller than she’d hoped. Scared.

  “Isaac won’t let a fire stop us from printing the Liberty Era,” he said. “Until we get a new press, we’ll send the paper over to a printer in Oxford.”

  “I’m glad to hear of it.”

  “I’ll be needing to make at least one trip a week to Oxford, which means I’ll need someone to help me from here.” His hands brushed over the newspaper. “Someone to help me write.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She looked right at him. “What?”

  “Write articles. Write stories.” His smile unnerved her. “You could write whatever you want as long as you tell the people in our county what’s really in your heart.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “Under a pseudonym, of course,” he interjected. “No one around here would ever know that you run a station on the Underground.”

  With both hands she slapped the top of the table, and she wished she could reach over and smack the
smile off his face, as well. How dare he come into her home and talk about the Underground in such casual terms, like they were discussing the state of the corn crop or the weather! Secrecy was vital to the success of their network. Secrecy saved lives.

  She turned her back to him, dumping the rest of her coffee into the fire. “You’re crazy!”

  The fire hissed back at them. “Are you saying you’re not Adam Frye?”

  She whirled around and faced him. This time she was no longer scared.

  Chapter Thirty

  Daniel’s head was in his hands, his back against the hard cane chair in Joseph and Esther’s parlor. For three hours he’d been pacing and praying and wondering what he could do to help his sister. Even though he knew that God’s will would be done no matter what happened, he’d still asked God to strengthen Esther during her early labor. And to give health to her little one.

  The stillness of the afternoon was punctuated with another scream from the chamber above, and he prayed harder. He’d never heard his sister cry out like this. Not when she broke her arm after falling from a horse, nor when her hem caught on fire at their home in Cincinnati and she’d burned her legs. Today she was in even more pain, and he was helpless.

  Joseph and Greta were by her side, delivering the child, and for that he was thankful. But he wished there was more he could do.

  Footsteps plodded down the stairs, and he leaped to his feet. Maybe that final scream welcomed their baby into the world.

  Joseph’s entry into the room wasn’t one of a proud new father. Instead his face was stark as his lips struggled to form the word: “Stillborn.”

  Daniel fell back down into the chair. Esther had longed for a child since she was a child herself. The brutality of it angered him, and he was afraid. This dashing of her heart’s desire might plunge her into the darkness from which so few returned.

  He wrung his hands together. “Does she know?”

  “Not yet.” Joseph patted his front pocket, searching for his watch. “I gave her something to make her rest a few hours first.”

  “Was it a girl?”

  The slight nod turned his anger into sadness. When Esther woke up, her heart would break.

  “Do you have the time?” Joseph asked.

  Daniel glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Four o’clock.”

  Joseph mumbled something and began to pace in front of the fire.

  Daniel sat and watched for a moment, not knowing what to do. Perhaps Joseph needed to take something to help him rest, as well.

  Joseph stopped abruptly. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Daniel stood to his feet, ready to do anything that would help Joseph or his sister. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to swear to secrecy.”

  Daniel didn’t hesitate. “Anything you tell me will be kept secret, Joseph.”

  Joseph walked toward him, and when he stood by Daniel, his voice was so low that Daniel could barely make out the words. “I am supposed to meet a canal boat near Brookville in two hours.”

  “Why?” Daniel asked.

  Joseph began pacing again, and Daniel started to wonder. Was his brother-in-law involved in something illegal? He never would have imagined it, but he had also never seen Joseph so nervous before. Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to keeping the secret.

  Joseph stopped. “The Talbourne family boat will travel through the final lock between five and six o’clock.” Daniel waited for him to finish. “A mile north of the lock, they will let out four runaway slaves.”

  Daniel struggled to repeat the words. “Runaway slaves?”

  “Hush,” Joseph insisted and then asked what time it was again.

  Sitting by her bed, Anna unpinned her long hair and brushed through it. They hadn’t had any guests in almost a week, but late tonight she was supposed to meet four more runaways at the graveyard. She planned to rest until Charlotte returned from the Palmer home, and then she would leave for the cemetery.

  Henry Nelson had received a big order from Cincinnati for blankets, so her father was staying at the mill night and day to work the looms except when he had to take a small shipment north. Her job was to make sure the runaways arrived safely at the mill and had plenty to eat and drink.

  A fire burned at the foot of her bed, but the room was still frigid. She tugged her comforter over her and tried to get settled on the pillows. It was tiring, hiking down to the cemetery late at night and then waking a few hours later to begin her chores, but she couldn’t complain. Her exhaustion was nothing compared to the brave men and women who walked twenty or thirty miles a day with little sleep and food.

  No one had seen Simon Mathers for days, but neither she nor her father were willing to endanger any more runaways by bringing them to their house, not until the fervor over finding Marie’s baby had ended. She’d heard that there were more hunters in the area and they’d obtained warrants to search a number of homes. Thankfully, they had yet to visit the Palmers. She closed her eyes, but sleep evaded her. For a week now, every time she tried to sleep, Daniel’s handsome face haunted her. Never would she have guessed that he’d read her work and compare it to Adam Frye—at least not until he sat in the Cooleys’ dining room and lauded the words of his favorite columnist.

  She didn’t lie to him last week, but she had tried to assure him that he had the wrong person. He’d have to ask Adam Frye to write for him, not her.

  She earnestly hoped he wouldn’t expose her secret. She could imagine him writing an article in the Liberty Era about Adam Frye living near Liberty, though she didn’t think he would intentionally tell people about their station. In the heat of a debate, though, he might spew it out. Covert wasn’t exactly his style.

  Her door creaked open, and Anna sat up in bed. “Charlotte?”

  “It’s me.” Charlotte scooted through the doorway. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

  In the firelight, Anna could see the bundle in her arms.

  Charlotte handed Peter over to her, and Anna quickly took him and looked into his face. His gray skin had been replaced by a milky white, and his cough seemed to be gone. “Did his fever break?”

  “Three nights ago.”

  She pulled him close to her chest. “Thank God.”

  Anna looked back at Charlotte as two questions pressed against her. Why was Charlotte home so early? And why did she bring Peter back with her?

  Neither question needed to be asked. Charlotte sat down in the rocking chair beside her bed and answered them both at once. “The Palmers are moving to Canada.”

  Anna nodded slowly. She was glad to have Peter back with her. Grateful he was healthy again. She couldn’t bear to think about him going to Canada, but Simon or another hunter would find him if he stayed here. She had no choice but to send him along.

  “I will miss him.”

  Charlotte wrung her hands together but didn’t say anything.

  “When will they take him north?” she asked.

  “They aren’t taking him, Anna.”

  She pushed herself up farther on the bed. “What do you mean they’re not taking him?”

  “They’re afraid.”

  Anna’s gaze went back down to the beautiful baby in her arms. She didn’t understand. “They don’t want him?”

  “It’s not that.” Charlotte stood and warmed her hands by the fire. “They don’t know what to expect on their way to Canada or once they get there. What if Peter gets sick again? Or what if they can’t find work? Or what if someone catches them stealing a slave? Their punishment might be death.”

  “They would do whatever any other parent would do for their child.”

  Charlotte turned again toward her. “Except he’s not their son.”

  Anna’s heart sank.

  “They’re good people,” Charlotte said softly. “This is a tough choice they have to make.”

  Anna wanted to say they were making the wrong choice, but she couldn’t. She could never understand what they faced.

&n
bsp; “When are they leaving?” she asked.

  “In the morning.”

  “I’ll keep Peter here for now.” She hesitated before she spoke again. “Charlotte?”

  Her friend turned.

  “I think you should go to Canada with them.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Anna.”

  “Just until they overturn the Fugitive Slave Act. Then you can come back home.”

  Charlotte looked down at the baby. “You want me to take him to Canada?”

  Anna shook her head. “You’ll have to find work, too.”

  Charlotte reached for the poker and stirred the fire. “I’m not leaving you here with a newborn.”

  “He’s not staying with me, Charlotte.” Anna kissed his forehead, confidence swelling within her. “God will find him the perfect home.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  A mule plodded up the towpath, pulling a boat not ten feet in front of Daniel. A boy walked slowly behind the mule, and Daniel waited for him to begin singing “Coming Home”—Daniel’s cue—but the boy didn’t even hum the popular tune. As hard as it was for him to wait in the thicket, Daniel didn’t move.

  He’d never had any reason to come down to Brookville to visit the canal, but he’d read that family boats often transported coffee, molasses, and mail from the border of Kentucky up to Hagerstown. Now he was privy to what else some of these families carried up from Kentucky with them.

  The boat floated past, but he stayed in place, one knee on the ground.

  He still couldn’t fathom that his brother-in-law was an agent on the Underground Railroad. All the time he’d known Joseph, even in the months Daniel had lived in Liberty, he had never even guessed that Joseph was sympathetic toward those who decided to run.