Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad

by Judith Redline Coopey

  A man and wife had been passed along from Everett, and Jesse was careful not to keep people around for too long with the Hartleys watching our every move.

  I gathered some quilts. These late August nights could be cold. I picked up my bonnet and shawl and a lantern. Abby came down from upstairs. She yawned. “Where are you goin’ so late?”

  “Business. Got to keep ahead of the Hartleys.”

  Abby moved to get her shawl and bonnet from the peg. “Where you takin’ them?”

  “Over to Mary’s, I guess. It’s too late to do much else. No need for you to go,” I told her.

  “There’s always a need for more folk. Make it look like you’ve got a reason to be out. Besides, more heads make the thinking go better.”

  Jesse was already in the barn, hitching up the wagon, and I didn’t feel like arguing, so I hurried out the door with Abby behind me. Jesse nodded to us as he swung up on the wagon seat. I let the wagon out and pulled myself up beside him. Abby was settled among the quilts in the back, barely visible to either of us.

  The night was dark, but the moon came up late, brightening the road ahead. Still the forest, close on both sides of the wagon track, was hardly penetrated by the light. Shadows closed in, wrapping themselves around us.

  Suddenly, from the woods on the left, we heard a horse snort. Then the forest was alive with movement. Five riders stepped out on the road in front of us. Jesse and I hadn’t agreed on a ‘story’— careless of us. Now we searched our minds frantically for any reason to be out on the road this late at night.

  “Hold up!” came a sharp command from the darkness. “Constable Bennett here. What’s your business?”

  “Evening, Constable,” Jesse spoke slowly. I frantically cast about for a ‘story’.

  Then from the wagon bed, “Pa? Pa? Where are we? My head hurts, ever so much. I’m burnin’ up, Pa.”

  I crawled over the wagon seat to Abby’s side, ministering to the ‘sick’ girl. Abby moaned. “Pa? How far is it yet to the doctor’s? I’m so sick.”

  The horsemen backed up a few steps. “What’s the matter with her?” one of them asked.

  “Don’t know,” Jesse replied. “Some sort of fever. Came on all of a sudden.”

  I talked quietly to Abby. Gentle, comforting words. “It’s all right, dear. Don’t you worry. We’ll get you there. You’re going to be all right.”

  The horsemen were nervous. They backed a little farther away. Jesse let the team move a few steps toward them.

  “Hey, stay back!” one of the men said. “We don’t want what she’s got!”

  “Best you step aside, then,” Jesse told him. “Sooner I get her out of here, the safer you’ll be.”

  The five riders turned, passed back into the trees and were gone. Jesse clucked to the team. In back with Abby, I kept up a stream of encouraging words, mostly for those below.

  We continued down the road, surrounded by night sounds and the smell of damp leaf mold. The sky was beginning to lighten when we arrived at Mary’s farm near Osterburg. Jesse drove around behind the barn, and we unloaded our charges into the corn crib and covered them with corn cobs. We worked silently and quickly, grateful that Noah kept his dog inside at night. When the fugitives were safely stowed away, Jesse unhitched the horses and led them around to the lower barn. Abby and I entered the hay loft and lay down to await the dawn.

  When he returned Jesse smiled at us in the gray dimness. “Abby, you sure can think on your feet,” he said. “I always want you on my side, girl!”

  Abby wiggled like a happy puppy.

  When we heard Noah and his son Adam come in to start their chores, we called down to them and lowered ourselves on the ladder.

  “Brought you some presents. In the corn crib,” Jesse explained.

  Noah nodded and turned to his milking. “Adam, go tell your mother. They’ll be hungry.”

  “I can do that,” I offered. “Come on, Abby. Let’s go surprise Mary. Two visits in two weeks! Aren’t we the gadabouts!”

  Chapter 27

  1858-1859

  One day about a month later, Abby came back from Ben’s, all breathless with news. “Elias’s been called to Chambers-burg. Melissa’s down with pneumonia and it don’t look good.”

  Elias left the next morning, astride one of his best riding horses. He waved—almost gaily, I thought—as he rode by on his way to the Fishertown road.

  “That Elias,” I grumbled to Jesse at breakfast. “He’s hardly visited his wife these two years now. Even Lucy doesn’t seem to hold any attraction for him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself!”

  But Jesse saw him only as inept. “He’s not a bad sort. A lot of the time he doesn’t know what to do, so he doesn’t do anything.”

  I was unconvinced. I saw Elias as selfish, but Rebecca also spoke of her brother in a charitable tone.

  “Elias doesn’t mean to be hurtful. He’s immature at worst. Can’t find room in his head for others’ needs. He means well, but he doesn’t see beyond his nose. He’s been that way since he was a boy, which some say wasn’t so long ago.”

  “I wonder that I didn’t see it when I thought to marry him,” I mused. It was sure I didn’t care for Elias anymore, leftover resentment from his marriage to Melissa tainting my view, but I wished him neither well nor ill. He was as much a part of the landscape as any other Friend. No more. No less.

  Melissa died in September. It was not unexpected, but still very sad. I remembered the beautiful young girl, so much in love with Elias, who had unknowingly destroyed my world. Despite wanting to dislike her, I’d found her a kind and pleasant soul. The tragedy of her marriage and short life made me sad.

  A few days later Abby brought more news from Ben’s. “Elias is still down there. She lingered a long time, poor thing. I guess he’ll be home in a week or so. Ben’s sorely overworked without him.”

  “What about Lucy?” I wondered. “I suppose he’ll leave her with Melissa’s parents.”

  “He will, if I know Elias,” Abby replied.

  Apparently, Abby didn’t know Elias, for a week later he arrived on horseback with his little daughter bundled in front of him. Abby, Rebecca, and I looked at one another, in disbelief.

  “What is he thinking?” I asked. “How’s he going to take care of her when he couldn’t even take care of Melissa when she needed him? Who does he think is going to help him?”

  Elias’ first move was to hire one of the Conley girls to care for Lucy during the day. The rest he did himself, asking Rebecca or me for advice but doing for his child with a new found sense of responsibility. Elias and Lucy became a familiar pair at social gatherings, Meetings, or family affairs. She wore store bought clothes and shoes. She learned to ride a horse before Christmas. She followed her father to the stables and listened to horse talk before she could reach up to feed a horse an apple. A beautiful child, she favored her mother but was fully able to speak for herself, stronger than Melissa had ever been, and the center of her father’s world.

  I watched Elias’s struggles in raising Lucy with detached interest and not a little amusement. One day, he asked me to teach him how to braid the little girl’s hair. Long and blond, it had flown free since babyhood, but now Elias worried (like an old hen, I said to myself) that it would get caught in something and cause her injury. Elias and I had a good laugh as his clumsy hands fumbled to braid hair as soft as silk and just as slippery.

  “Aunt Ann does it better than you, Papa,” Lucy told Elias. “Her braids are tighter. Yours feel like they’re falling out.”

  Elias chuckled at the criticism. “I do pretty well for a mere man, don’t you think?” he asked with a wink.

  Abby watched with interest as Elias, a little at a time, wormed his way back into my life. “He’s just making excuses to visit you,” she said. “Wants another wife, most likely.”

  I pushed that idea to the back of my mind and tried to be helpful when Elias came around—for Lucy’s sake, I told myself.

 
Consciously or not, I protected myself against a repeat of my earlier humiliation.

  One evening the following summer, Elias brought Lucy over for a visit, seated, as always, in front of him in the saddle. Elias handed her down to me, dismounted and tethered his horse. Abby and I had canned peaches and saved several big, juicy ones for eating. I sliced one into a bowl for Lucy and sat down with Elias to watch her enjoy the treat.

  “I’ve been thinking about my house,” Elias began. “Thought I’d build on, maybe double the size, add a porch on back, and put in some new windows.”

  “Time you paid some attention to that,” I observed dryly.

  “I’ve drawn up a plan.” He spread a rolled up paper on the table before me. “Thought I’d show it to you. Get your ideas.”

  I studied the crude drawing and made some suggestions, agreeing with some of Elias’ plans, vetoing others.

  “When do you expect to start?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? That’s quick!”

  “I want it done by harvest. So we can enjoy the winter in it. I want it to be a fine home for Lucy. A cook stove in the kitchen and a heating stove in the parlor. I’m even thinking about running water in the kitchen instead of a hand pump. These new pumps they have can do that.”

  I was skeptical. Running water seemed a little prideful to me.

  “Or I can leave it a hand pump, if you’d like that better.”

  “I would,” I replied before the implication of his remark dawned on me. He watched me, an expectant half smile on his face.

  “Will you, Ann?” he asked.

  “Will I what?” I countered.

  “Marry me. Be a mother to Lucy. Be mistress of my house.”

  I rose and walked away, stepped off the porch and out into the yard. I couldn’t say I hadn’t thought about it. It had been in the back of my mind since Melissa died, but I wasn’t ready for the actuality of it. My feelings about Elias had been here, there, and everywhere since the January day he’d driven up with Melissa at his side. I’d loved him, hated him, resented him, pitied him, disdained him, enjoyed him, laughed at him, even respected him. Now I looked among all those feelings for something solid, unchanging—something to make me want to spend the rest of my life with him.

  Elias sat quietly on the porch with Lucy, giving me time to think. I couldn’t get my mind around the idea of actually being his wife. Too much water under the bridge. I walked all the way to the edge of Ben’s orchard and looked over at my brother’s house, bursting at the seams with a big family growing bigger. Ben and Rebecca’s seventh child was due before Christmas.

  It was all I’d ever wanted—a husband, a home, a family. Now, here it was, mine for the taking. Lord knew, I had no other prospects. What was stopping me? I didn’t know. I couldn’t name it. But there it was in front of me like a huge boulder in the road. I couldn’t marry Elias because I didn’t love him. All old hurts aside, I knew him too well to ever love him like that. Like what? Like I loved Josiah. I turned and walked back to the porch to give Elias my answer.

  Apparently Elias was bent on having him a wife, for two weeks after I rejected his offer he proposed to Deborah Hill, Abby’s 18-year-old sister. Rebecca was more than a little put out with him for taking away her hired girl, but Elias reminded her that someone was bound to do it some day. It was simply a matter of time.

  I watched the new addition to the Finley house take shape amid much talk about the suddenness of the marriage proposal.

  “Deborah accepted Elias with all speed,” Rebecca observed to me. “Guess it was more than the poor girl dreamed of. Going from nothing to a fine, new house, the wife of one of the respected men of the community. More than she ever expected from life.”

  “I hope it turns out that way. For her sake.”

  No one could blame Deborah for marrying Elias, even if it was more for convenience on his part than anything else. Their intention to marry was announced at Meeting, with appropriate committees assigned. The union took place in October, just after harvest. Sitting in the Meeting House, watching Elias take a wife, I was at peace with my decision.

  Even though I kept my rejection of Elias to myself, Jesse surmised what had happened and couldn’t resist the chance to tease.

  “That sure is a fine house Elias is building for his bride,” he gibed. “It’s not every woman gets a chance at a catch like Elias. Sure would look fancy riding to Meeting in a fine buggy at Elias’s side. Yep, I bet there’s many a woman wishes she’d had a chance to land that one!”

  “Yes, many. If Deborah had rejected him, there’s always Pru Hartley! Get thee behind me, Jesse!” I chided. “You need a wife yourself, but I doubt anyone would have you, even Pru. Mayhap we could advertise in the Bedford Gazette and see what turns up!”

  Chapter 28

  1860

  Uncle Sammy Grainger died in March. I was deeply touched by his passing, indebted to him as I was for his help in sending Sam to Josiah. Jesse confided that he’d been the one to start the Underground Railroad in the Quaker settlement. I hadn’t known that, but come to think of it, he was always there on the fringe of things. He’d stepped aside years ago for younger men, but the Railroad work was only part of his legacy. His death brought change to Redfield Farm.

  First there was Uncle Sammy’s will. Each of his sister Martha’s children shared equally. It wasn’t a huge sum, but enough in every case to make a difference in a life. I learned I’d received only about a quarter of my share, and was pleasantly surprised with more. Ben spoke of using his share to buy more breeding stock, but Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

  “We need a bigger house for these seven and a half children!”

  Ben grinned and quietly agreed. Mary and Noah Poole used their legacy to buy some adjoining land they’d wanted. No one knew what happened to Rachel’s money, but we speculated that Jacob Schilling put it to good use in his investments. Betsy and Will built onto their house in New Paris, more space for the shoemaking business and raising two boys. Nathaniel invested his money in railroad stock, and I asked him to do the same with mine, thinking primarily of Sam’s future. Jesse put his share away without a word about his plans.

  Ever since he was a little boy, Jesse’d talked about going west. He’d read about it, studied it, even planned for it. Now, given the wherewithal to actually do it, he dallied, unable to make the decision.

  “Jesse, do you think you’ll go west now that you can?” I asked him one April evening.

  “I don’t know. There’s still so much to be done here.”

  I knew he meant the Railroad. “But there are others who can take over for you. I’d hate to lose you. I’d miss you like everything, but this is your one chance.” He sat opposite me on the back porch, whittling at a stick with his pocket knife.

  “I know. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Matthew Miller writes that life is fine in Indiana. He’s got a hundred and sixty acres. Planted apple trees. Near a place called Edinburgh.” There was longing in his voice.

  “Then do it, Jesse. Don’t stay here and be a martyr for the Railroad. You’ve already given your left arm to the cause.”

  I heard myself say the words, but my heart ached at the thought of his leaving. He’d always been my Jesse, two years ahead, sensible, level headed, self assured. What would I do without him? Who would I turn to when the world got too much for me? Who would tease me out of the doldrums, make me laugh at myself, take me in hand when I needed it?

  Of course I wouldn’t stand in his way. No one, least of all Jesse, would ever know how alone I would be without him. If anyone had a right to follow his dreams, Jesse did. But for me, a future taking care of Nate and Papa was an empty prospect.

  He smiled. “You’re right about the arm. Maybe I better go while I still have one good one.” He rose to go inside but stopped at the sound of someone approaching on horseback. The visitor was Constable Ackroyd from Bedford. The April night was damp and cool, so Jesse invited him inside.

 
; “You folks seen any runaways hereabouts in the last day or so?”

  Jesse smiled. “Don’t suppose I’d tell you if I did,” he replied.

  “Well, normally I wouldn’t be askin’, but there’s a problem you should know about.

  “What’s that?”

  “Some folks down in Chaneysville was robbed and beat up pretty bad by a rogue fugitive on Monday night. You need to be careful who you take in, is all.”

  Jesse stepped back. “Oh.”

  I looked at him questioningly, then remembered my responsibility as a hostess. “Thank you for the warning. Can I get you a cup of coffee? Something to warm you on the ride home?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, taking off his hat. Abby pulled out a chair for him. I poured the coffee and cut a piece of apple pie left over from supper.

  “I figure he might try to hook up with the Underground Railroad around here, if he knows of it. Pass the word around the settlement. I shouldn’t be talking to you like this,” the officer told us between bites of pie. “But this one’s a mean one.”

  By the time the constable left, I was fidgety. There was something on Jesse’s mind, but I had to wait until everyone else had gone to bed before I asked. Abby was the last, leaving Jesse and me finally alone.

  “Jesse, what is it?”

  ”There’s one in Spring Hope tonight. At Ezra Warner’s. Came up this afternoon alone, asking for a hook-up. Ben was down horse trading with Ezra, and he told me when he stopped on the way home.”