Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad

by Judith Redline Coopey

  “Sister, I need your help,” I told Betsy, after relating the story of Jesse’s wreck. “I need some fancy clothes.”

  Betsy’s eyebrows went up. “Fancy clothes? Why, Ann?”

  “I just need them, Betsy. I’ll explain later, but . . . please, can you get me some? Something very unQuaker-like. Just one outfit. For me.”

  “I think I can,” Betsy replied. Will’s Aunt Edith had married out of the Society and lived in Bedford with her lawyer husband and two grown daughters. The girls were extremely fashionable, giving Betsy hope that she could get an outfit for me. “It’ll take a few days, but I think I can do it.” Betsy knew enough about the Railroad to cooperate without asking for an explanation.

  I returned home, satisfied that part two of my plan was in motion. Now I wrote to Rachel for railroad schedules and fares between Altoona and Pittsburgh. My next concern was money. I had but little, so I needed help. No one else in the family was very well off, except Uncle Sammy Grainger. Jesse always went to him with Railroad problems because Uncle Sammy had resources and was sympathetic to the cause. I waited for a chance to go see him.

  The following First Day, Amos, Nathaniel, and Abby left for Meeting, Abby protesting, torn between boredom with Meeting and a need to socialize. I urged her out the door, looking forward to some time with Jesse.

  “You’re looking better today,” I told him as he struggled to sit up. He winced in pain but moved more easily than before.

  “I think I could use a good wash,” he replied, easing his way out of bed. It was the first time he’d tried to get up.

  I pumped water and set the kettle over the fire. Watching me, Jesse reflected, “We ought to get an iron stove in here, Ann. It would make your work a lot easier.”

  I nodded, helping him to the table, where I’d set out a bowl of oatmeal with honey. While he ate, I went upstairs for some clean clothes. I filled a basin with hot water and washed his hair. I felt the bump on the side of his head where the concussion was.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No. Just a little numb when you touch it.”

  Next I stropped his razor and set out his mug and soap to shave him. I did all right for my first attempt at shaving. Only nicked him once. When that was done, I poured a basin of fresh, hot water and helped him wash. I left him for a few minutes while I brought out clean sheets and changed his bed. Then I helped him put on his pants, shirt, and stockings. That was about all he could handle for one day, so he lay back down. He grinned. “Pretty much an invalid now, huh?”

  “You’ll mend,” I told him, whether I believed it or not.

  It was a warm, sunny day, so Lettie took Sam into the parlor and opened all the windows to air out the room. I did the same in the kitchen, but there the windows were small. Still, the sunshine and fresh air were welcome.

  “I’ve got a plan to move Lettie on,” I told Jesse.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll dress up as a fine Southern lady and take her on the train as my maid, as far as Pittsburgh.”

  Jesse nodded. “Then what?”

  “We’ll take a coach north to Erie. That way she’ll be safe all the way to the lake. If I get her that far, and buy her a ferry ticket, she could be in Canada that night.”

  “I suppose so, but why would you go to all that trouble when you could just send her on to the next station and be done with it?”

  “Because she saved your life, Jesse. You could have died out there on the mountain. And . . .” I hesitated but knew I must silence his objections. “because she’s Josiah’s wife.”

  “His wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?” Jesse leaned up on his good elbow.

  “From what he told me about her and what she told me about him.”

  “Does she know we took care of him, too?” We spoke softly so as not to be overheard.

  “No. I thought it best not to tell her.”

  “Then she doesn’t know Sam is Josiah’s son?’

  “No.”

  Jesse lowered his head, thinking. He liked Josiah and Lettie, too, and he understood my need to make something up to her. “All right, if you can arrange it, I’ll support you. But how will you get enough money?”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “I have a little cash, but not that much,” he offered. I wish I could help more. Wish I could go with you, but this shoulder’s going to keep me down for quite a while.”

  I patted his good shoulder. “You’ve already done enough. More than enough. I should be able to take care of this on my own.”

  A few days later, I rode Nate’s horse to Fishertown to see Uncle Sammy Grainger. He greeted me at the door, energetic in spite of his eighty years. “Ann! It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”

  “I should have come sooner, Uncle.”

  Uncle Sammy was a loving soul. Married to Amos’s oldest sister, he’d spent his life in good-humored service to others. He and Aunt Alice were childless, and so took a great interest in the lives of their nieces and nephews. Aunt Alice was the first to visit me after Sam’s birth when others were hesitant to call on a sinner.

  Now Uncle Sammy asked after my siblings and I dutifully reported on each, with extra details about Jesse’s troubles. Uncle Sammy didn’t go to Meeting much anymore, so he hadn’t heard about Jesse. He listened intently to my account of the accident and Lettie’s heroic behavior. While we drank a cup of tea, I revealed the reason for my visit.

  “Uncle Sammy, I need some money.”

  “You do, dear? Whatever for?”

  “To get Lettie to Canada.”

  I explained my plan and outlined the steps I’d already taken. “I want to repay Lettie for saving Jesse’s life.”

  The old man was thoughtful. “Child, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you are a legatee in my will.”

  “I am?” My voice faltered.

  “Yes. You and all your siblings. So I suppose I could advance you a sum against your inheritance for this.”

  “Oh, Uncle Sammy! Thank you so much!”

  My plan moved forward. The railroad fares and schedule arrived from Rachel early the next week, and Will McKitrick rode up with a bundle on his saddle on Sixth Day. Now it was left to ask a favor of Ben. That afternoon I took the path through the orchard to his house. As I crossed the yard, I saw him in the doorway of the barn and waved.

  “Ben, I need your help. I’m moving Lettie on soon, and I need a way to get us to Bedford. We’ll take a coach from there to Altoona. I won’t be coming back right away, so I’d like to borrow your buggy and a team to take us to Bedford, but I can’t return it.”

  “I could take you,” Ben offered.

  “No, Ben. You have enough to do. I was hoping to borrow the buggy and leave it at the livery. Then maybe Nate or Elias could bring it home when they go to town.”

  Ben looked puzzled. “Sure. You can do that,” he said.

  Walking back through the orchard, I went over the plan again in my mind. In Altoona, we could stay the night with Rachel, in spite of possible hostility from Jacob Schilling. This was more important than his antics. I thought it through, one step at a time. It should work. A southern lady traveling with her maid.

  I missed Meeting again the next First Day so I could pack a small trunk, try on my “Southern lady” finery and outfit Lettie in one of my old dresses. I slept little that night, wrestling with nightmares when I did. Dawn finally came, and I went to awaken Lettie. Then I returned to my room, dressed in the dark so as not to waken Abby, and quietly picked up the sleeping baby and carried him downstairs.

  Placing the child in Lettie’s arms, I put a cautionary finger to my lips and nodded toward the door. Lettie carried Sam to the barn, where I hitched up Ben’s team to the buggy. Inside the barn, Lettie let out a cry.

  “Miss Ann! Where we takin’ this baby?” she asked.

  “We’re taking him with us.”

  “Why, Miss Ann?”

  “Because
, Lettie, he’s going with you.”

  She looked at me in horror. “Goin’ with me? Why?”

  “Because Josiah is his father.”

  “He father? My Josiah? How?”

  “Get in the buggy, Lettie. I’ll explain it as we drive.”

  Lettie glared at me through dark eyes. “My Josiah?” she asked again.

  I opened the barn doors and we drove out into the early light. Sam still slept in Lettie’s arms. We traveled in silence for several miles, Lettie looking angry, lost and hurt.

  “Josiah came through on the Railroad, like you, only he was ill when he arrived. Gravely ill. So we kept him until he recovered—well into winter. He was with us for about five months.”

  “And you? And Josiah?” Lettie faltered.

  “Oh, Lettie, I am sorry. It happened only once, and neither of us meant for it to happen. I was so sad and he was so lonely. Please forgive us, Lettie. We didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  Lettie looked down at the sleeping child in her lap. She touched his fat cheek with the back of her finger. A tear wended its way down her face. She looked over and saw that I was crying, too.

  “How can you give him up?” she asked. “How can you send him off without he Mama?”

  “Because his life here would be hell, Lettie. I’m sending him for the same reason you don’t stay here and Josiah didn’t. Sam deserves better.”

  Sam stirred in his sleep, reached out a chubby hand and grasped Lettie’s finger. I saw, and felt a pang of jealousy. We rode on in silence, each of us looking at a world blurred by tears.

  “Lettie, I can’t take back what I’ve done. I can only try to do what’s best now. Sam will be better off. Josiah won’t be deprived of his son, and you—I am giving you my most prized possession—because I trust you to be a good mother to him.”

  “Does Josiah know about Sam?” Lettie asked.

  “He does now. I wrote to him a few weeks ago so he wouldn’t think you were coming with someone else’s child.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  Lettie looked down at Sam, who was by that time awake and looking for breakfast. He smiled at her, and she snuggled him until he giggled. I drove on, my jaw set, my will determined, now that the wheels had been set in motion, to see the plan through.

  Chapter 19

  1856 – July

  A little after nine o’clock we rattled down a dusty Bedford street to the livery. We left the buggy and walked to the stage coach stop, Lettie three steps behind, carrying Sam and the small trunk. This bothered me, but we needed to keep up our pretense.

  On the stage ride, amid shaking and jostling toward Altoona, we took advantage of the opportunity to practice our roles, as we shared the coach with two gentlemen and a lady. Altoona seemed even bigger and busier than six months earlier. Sam was a handful by now, very tired of restraint. We arrived at about four o’clock and walked the three blocks from the stage depot to Rachel’s house.

  Jacob Schilling was still at work, so Rachel and I had a little time to talk. It was tempting fate bringing Lettie and Sam into his house, but the circumstances called for tempting fate. Let him say one word.

  James Buchanan Schilling, three months old, lay asleep in his basket. His cousin, Sam, nine months old, crawled on the floor seeking mischief. Lettie sat quietly in a corner of the kitchen, watching. I’d warned her there might be some unpleasantness with Jacob.

  Rachel made tea, nervously chattering about baby James. She knew I was shepherding Lettie to freedom, and clearly wondered why I’d brought Sam along, but I evaded her questions.

  “Well, you do look the Southern Lady,” she commented. Rachel didn’t mention it, but I think my clothing gave her pause, even though she, herself, had given up plain dress.

  Rachel smiled at Lettie. “I heard how you helped Jesse and stayed with him until Ben and Nate came. Thank you for that.”

  Lettie nodded.

  A scrape and a rattle outside told us that Jacob had returned from work, and was stowing his tools in the shed out back. I shot a look at Lettie, and Rachel rose and led her upstairs along with Sam and our trunk.

  “Jacob is a good man,” she explained to Lettie, “but drink makes him mean sometimes. Best we don’t wave you in front of his face.”

  “We got to stay hid?” Lettie asked, looking doubtfully at Sam.

  “No. Just try to stay out of his way. He‘ll probably go out after supper, and he leaves early in the morning, so you may not see him at all.”

  Jacob took off his shoes and shook the plaster dust out of his shirt on the back porch. Rachel was back before he came in and stepped out to speak to him, I guessed to prepare him for visitors and warn against an outburst. As I watched them talking on the porch, it occurred to me that Rachel looked a little worn. Not the same beautiful girl who had ridden away in the dray wagon two years before.

  Jacob entered and nodded to me, sitting at the table with my cup of tea. “Fancy dress for a Quaker lady. For a minute I thought you one of them uppity society belles,” he observed.

  “Yes, it does feel strange,” I replied, trying to sound cordial.

  “What do you think of this guy?” he asked, pointing with pride at his sleeping son. “Ain’t he a fine one?”

  “Oh, yes,” I smiled. We talked politely for a while, mostly about Jesse’s accident. The talk was pleasant enough, reminding me that I had once thought well of this man.

  The dinner conversation centered on the weather, Altoona’s growth, and baby James. If Jacob was curious about my mission, he didn’t ask. After the meal, he rose abruptly and announced he was going out and would be back late.

  When he was gone, I asked, “Where does he go when he leaves like that?”

  “To a saloon, most likely,” Rachel replied.

  “Does he do that often?”

  “Two or three nights a week. He meets his friends there. They play cards, tell stories, do business. Jacob says that’s how he learns about business deals.”

  This was a world I knew not at all. Coming from a place where men drank moderately, if at all, in the company of other Friends, and business was conducted after Meeting, I found Jacob’s behavior strange, if not abhorrent.

  “Does he drink a lot?”

  “Not usually. Sometimes.” Rachel twisted a handkerchief in her hands.

  “Is he mean when he comes home?”

  Her eyes widened in protest. “No. No. He’s a good man. He works hard. He needs a little fun, is all.”

  I nodded and forced a smile, mindful that I was taking advantage of my brother-in-law’s hospitality. I didn’t believe Rachel’s denial, and could only hope Jacob didn’t abuse her.

  I went to the stairway and called Lettie down for supper. She came, carrying Sam, a squirming armful. While Lettie ate, I fed Sam and played with him. The three of us made short work of cleaning up the kitchen and retired to the parlor. The talk was good for me. It kept my mind occupied.

  “Ann,” Rachel began, “your hair is too plain for your dress. You need a more stylish hair arrangement.”

  “Oh, yes!” Lettie agreed. “Miss Rachel, you got a curling iron? I could make Miss Ann look like a real fine Southern lady for the rest of our trip!”

  The curling iron was brought out, stuck down a lamp chimney, and Lettie worked her magic. I wasn’t comfortable with such ‘making up’, but submitted because it improved my disguise.

  “Oh, Ann, you look beautiful,” Rachel exclaimed, showing me the looking glass. I held it up and was pleased, in spite of myself with what I saw, my dark hair swept away from my face in long curls.

  Lettie bathed Sam, dressed him for bed, and carried him upstairs. Rachel and I talked for a while on the front porch in the warm August evening. Rachel thought I was taking Sam along as part of the charade, and I let her go on thinking it for the moment.

  “I know you want to repay Lettie for helping Jesse, but this escorting her all the way to Erie seems like more than necessary,” Rachel observed.

  �
��Maybe,” I replied, “but I’m too far into it to turn back now.”

  “Well, you needn’t put Sam through all this. You could leave him here and pick him up on your way back.”

  I hesitated. I could still change my mind. Leave him here and come back for him. Sitting in the dark, I struggled with the urge to accept her offer. But the thought of people like Jacob stopped me. No.

  “Sam isn’t coming back,” I said softly. “He’s going with Lettie to Canada.”

  “Ann! Oh, Ann! How can you do this? How can you hand your baby over to a stranger?” Rachel’s voice broke as she spoke.

  “Lettie is taking him to his father. She’s Josiah’s wife.” I had held up as long as I could; now the tears came. I let go and cried as though I would never stop. Indeed, I would not. Ever. Rachel understood and did the only thing she could. She cried with me.

  We retired at ten o’clock, and this night I slept, exhausted from travel, grief, and lack of sleep. Jacob Schilling’s comings and goings didn’t wake me, and in the morning it was Sam’s baby talk that roused both Lettie and me from sleep.

  The train to Pittsburgh left at ten o’clock, and our little party was on the platform, tickets in hand, waiting, when the iron monster steamed into town. It was still a marvel—the noise and speed of travel. One hundred miles in only four hours seemed impossible!

  The stylish Southern lady with her long curls and fancy dress boarded the train, speaking softly to her colored maid with the fat, smiling baby. Anyone seeing us would think us real. It was the first train ride for all of us. I’d never imagined any of this—the dress, the hair, the train, the long distance from Bedford County. Sadly, there was no joy in it.