The Boat of a Million Years

XIII. Follow the Drinking Gourd

A thunderstorm flamed and boomed during the night. By morning the sky was clear, everything asparkle, but the fields were too wet for work. That didn’t matter. Crops were coming along fine, alfalfa so deep a green you could nearly hear the color and corn sure to be knee-high by the Fourth of July. Matthew Edmonds decided that after chores and breakfast he’d fix up his plow. The colter needed sharpening and there was a crack in the whippletree. If he reinforced it, he could get yet another season’s use out of it before prudence called for replacement. Then Jane had a long list of tinkerings around the house for him.

When he closed the kitchen door, he stopped and drew a breath on the top step. The air was cool and damp, rich with smells of soil, animals, growth. On his right the sun had just cleared the woods behind the bam; the rooster weathervane there threw the light back aloft into a blue that had no end. The yard was muddy, but puddles shone like mirrors. He let his eyes run left, across silo, pigsty, chickenhouse, over his acres that rolled away beyond them bearing the earth’s abundance. Could he, could any man ever make any real return for the blessings of the Lord? . Something flickered at the edge of sight. He turned his head fully left. You could see the county road from here, about a hundred yards off along the west edge of the property. On the other side lay Jesse Lyndon’s land, but his bouse was to the north, hidden from this by its own patch of woods. The Edmonds’ drive was also screened from sight, :lined with apple trees whose fruit was starting to swell among pale-bright leaves. Out from between them ran a woman.

Chief, the half-collie, was helping ten-year-old Jacob take the cows to pasture. That was just as well. The woman acted scared when Frankie bounded forth barking at her, and he was only a fox terrier. At least, she shied from him and made fending motions. She kept on running, though. No, she staggered, worn out, close to dropping. All she had on was a thin dress that had once been yellow, halfway down her shins. A shift, would the ladies call it? Ragged, filthy, and drenched, it clung to a skin from under which the flesh had melted away. That skin was the shade of weak coffee.

Edmonds sprang down the steps and broke into a run himself. “You, Frankie, quiet!” he hollered. “Shut up!” The little dog skipped aside, wagged his tail, and lolled his tongue.

Man and woman met near the corncrib, stopped, stared at each other. She looked young, maybe twenty, in spite of what hardship had done to her. Feed her up and she’d be slender and tall instead of skinny. Her face was different from the usual, narrow, nose curved and not very wide, lips hardly fuller than on some whites, big eyes with beautiful long lashes. Hair, cut short, wasn’t really kinky; it would bush out if ever she let it grow. Edmonds thought with a pang how a slaveowner must have forced her mother or her grandmother.

The wind went raw in her throat. She tried to straighten, but a shiver took hold of her. “Peace,” Edmonds said. “Thee is with friends.”

She stared. He was a big sandy man, wearing clothes darker than most and a hat that was flat of crown, broad of brim. After a moment she gasped, “Yo’ Massa Edmonds?”

He nodded. “Yes.” His voice stayed easy. “And thee, I think, is a fugitive.”

She half lifted her hands. “Please, sub, please, dey’s aftuh me, right behin’ me!”

“Then come.” He took her arm and led her across the yard to the kitchen door.

The room beyond was large and sunny, clean-scrubbed but still full of sweet odors. Jane Edmonds was spooning oatmeal into Nellie, not quite one, while four-year-old William stood on a stool and manfully pumped water into a kettle fresh off the stove. Its earlier load steamed in a dishpan. Everybody stopped when Father and the Negress appeared.

“This girl needs shelter, and quickly,” Edmonds told his wife.

Herself fine-boned, hair peeping red from beneath a scarf, she dropped the spoon and clutched fist between fingers. “Oh, dear, we haven’t any real hiding place ready.” Decision: “Well, the attic must serve. Nothing in the basement to hide behind. Maybe the old trunk, if they search our house—”

The Negress leaned against the counter. She didn’t pant or shake now, but wildness still dwelt in her eyes. “Go with Jane,” Edmonds told her. “Do what she says. We’ll take care of thee.”

A brown hand snaked out. The big butcher knife almost flew from the rack into its grasp. “Dey ain’ gon’ take me live!” she yelled.

“Put that down,” Jane said, shocked.

“Child, child, thee must not be violent,” Edmonds added. “Trust in the Lord.”

The girl crouched back, blade bright in front of her. “Ah don’ wanna hurt nobody,” she answered, raspy-voiced, “but dey fin’ me, Ah kill manse’f ‘fo’ dey take me back, an’ fust Ah kill one o’ dem if’m de Lawd he’p me.”

Tears stood forth in Jane’s eyes. “What have they done, to drive thee to this?”

Edmonds cocked his head. “Frankie’s barking again. Don’t wait, let her keep the knife, just get her out of sight. I’ll go talk to them.”

Since his boots were muddy, he went straight out and around the corner of the house to the front porch on the west side. The drive branched off where the apple trees ended, an arm leading south. Edmonds hushed the dog and placed himself on the step before the screen door, arms folded. When the two men saw him, they cantered that way and drew rein.

Their horses were splashed but fairly fresh. At each saddle was sheathed a shotgun, at each belt hung a revolver. One rider was burly and blond, one gaunt and dark. “Good day, friends,” Edmonds greeted them. “What can I do for ye?”

“We’re after a runaway nigger woman,” said the blond man, “You seen her?”

“How does thee suppose I should know?” Edmonds replied. “Ohio is a free state. Any person of color passing by should be as free as thee or me.”

Hie dark man spat. “How many like that you got around here? They’re all runaways, and you damn well know it, Quaker.”

“I do not, friend,” said Edmonds with a smile. “Why, I could name thee George at the feed store, Caesar in the blacksmith shop, Mandy who keeps house for the Abshires—”

“Stop stallin’ us,” snapped the blond man. “Listen, this mornin’ early we seen her ourselves, way off. She ducked into some woods and shook us, but this here’s jest about the only way she could come, and we’ve found barefoot tracks in the road.”

“And up your drive!” crowed his companion.

Edmonds shrugged. “It’s getting to be summer. Children leave off their shoes whenever we let them.”

The blond man narrowed his eyes. “All right, sub,” he murmured. “If you’re so innocent, you won’t mind us lookin’ through your place, will you?”

“She could’a snuck in without you knowin’,” suggested the other. He forced a smile. “You wouldn’t like that, you with a wife and kids, I’ll bet. We’ll jest make sure for you.”

“Yen, you wouldn’t break the law,” said the first. “You’ll co-op-erate, sure. C’mon, Alien.”

He moved to dismount. Edmonds raised a thick, hard hand. “Wait, friend,” he called softly. “I am sorry, but I cannot invite either of ye in.”

“Huh?” grunted the blond man.

Alien snickered. “He’s skeered o’ what his wife’ll do if we track up her floor, Gabe. Don’t you worry, sun, we’ll wipe our feet real good.”

Edmonds shook his head. “It grieves me, friends, but neither of ye is welcome. Please go.”

“Then you are harborin’ the nigger!” Gabe exploded.

“I did not say that, friend. I simply do not wish to talk further with ye. Please get off my land.”

“Listen, you. Helpin’ a runaway, that’s a federal crime. Could cost you a thousand dollars or six months in jail. Law says you got to help us.”

“An iniquitous ordinance, as wrong as President Pierce’s designs on Cuba, plain contrary to God’s commandments.”

Alien drew his pistol. “I’ll give you a commandment,” he snarled. “Stand aside.”

Edmonds didn’t stir. “The Constitution grants my family and me the right to be secure in our home,” he told them with the same calm.

“By God—“ The weapon lifted. “You wanna get shot?”

“That would be a pity. Thee would hang, thee knows.”

Gabe gestured. “Put that away, Alien.” He straightened in the saddle. “Aw right, Mr. Niggerlover. Tam’t far to town. I’m goin’ right in there and git me a warrant and a deppity sheriff. Alien, you watch and see nobody sneaks out o’ here while I’m gone.” He squinted back at Edmonds. “Or you wanna be reasonable? Your last chance, boy.”

“Unless the Lord show me otherwise,” Edmonds said, “I believe I am the reasonable man here and ye, friends, are terribly mistaken.”

“Aw right! About time we started makin’ some examples. Watch close, Alien.” Gabe wheeled his horse and struck spurs to flanks. In a shower of mud, he galloped away. Frankie’s barking sounded thia against the hoofbeats.

“Now, friend, kindly remove thyself,” Edmonds said to Alien.

The slavecatcher grinned. “Oh, I think I’ll jest ride around, this fine mornin’. Won’t hurt nothin’, won’t poke in nowheres.”

“Thee will nevertheless be trespassing.”

“I don’t think the jedge’ll call it that, you a lawbreaker and all.”

“Friend, we in this family have always done our humble best to observe the law.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alien unlimbered his shotgun and laid it across his saddlebow. He clucked to the horse and jogged off, around the yard, on patrol.

Edmonds went back inside. Jane was on hands and knees, cleaning tracks off her floors. She rose and stood quietly “while her husband told her what had happened. “What shall we do?” she asked.

“I must think,” he answered. “Surely the Lord will provide.” His gaze sought William. “My son, thee is happy, because thee is too young to know about evil. However, thee can help us. Pray keep silent, unless thee needs something for thyself, and then speak only to thy mother. Say no word to anybody else till I tell thee. Can thee do that?”

“Yes, father,” piped the boy, delighted by the responsibility.

Edmonds chuckled. “At thy age, it won’t be so easy. Later I’ll tell thee a story about another boy named William. He became famous for keeping still. To this day they call him William the Silent. But thee’d better hold thyself aside. Thee may go play with thy toys.”

The lad pattered off. Jane wrung her hands. “Matthew, must we endanger the children?”

Edmonds took both her hands in his. “A deal more dangerous it’d be to let wickedness go unresisted... Well, thee see to Nellie. I’d better catch Jacob on his way back. And we all have our work to do.”

His older-son, tanned and towheaded, came into sight from behind the barn as the man stepped out again. Edmonds walked unhurriedly to meet him. Alien saw from a distance and rode toward them. The big dog, Chief, sensed trouble and growled.

Edmonds quieted him. “Jacob,” he said, “go clean up.”

“Of course, father,” replied the boy, surprised.

“But don’t head for school. Wait in the house. I think I’ll have an errand for thee.”

The blue eyes widened, went to the approaching stranger, back to the parent, kindled with understanding. “Yes, sir!” Jacob scampered from them.

Alien halted. “What you been talkin1 about?” he demanded.

“Can’t a man speak to his son any more in these United States?” The smallest bit of harshness touched Edmonds’ tone. “I almost wish my religion would let me kick thee off my grounds. Meanwhile, at least leave us alone in our business. // doesn’t hurt, anybody.”

In spite of his weapons, Alien looked uneasy. Edmonds stood bear-powerful. “I got my livin’ to make, same as you,” the slavecatcher mumbled.

“Plenty of honest jobs around. Where is thee from?”

“Kentucky. Where else? Gabe Yancy and me, we been trackin’ that coon for days.”

“Then the poor creature must be half dead from hunger and weariness. The Ohio’s a wide river. Thee does not think she could swim across, does thee?”

“I dunno how, but them niggers got their ways. Some-body’d seen her yestiddy on t’ other bank, like she meant to cross. So we ferried over this mornin’, and sure ‘nough, found somebody else who’d sported what had to be her. And then we seen her ourselves, till she went into the woods. If only we’d’a had a dawg or two—”

“Brave men, chasing unarmed women like animals.”

The rider leaned forward. “Listen,” he said, “she ain’t jest any old runaway off a plantation. They’s somethin’ queer about her, somethin’ real wrong. That’s how come Mr. Montgomery was fixin’ to sell her south. He wants her back for more’n the money she’s worth.” He wet his lips. “And don’t you forget, if she gits away, you got a thousand dollars owin’ to him, ‘sides the fine and jail.”

“That’s if they can prove I had anything to do with her escape.”

Anger flashed: “You won’t lie your way out o’ this.”

“Lying is against the principles of the Society of Friends. Now kindly let me get on with my work.”

“So you don’t lie to nobody, huh? You ready to swear you ain’t hidin’ any nigger?”

“Swearing is against our religion too. We don’t lie, that’s all. It doesn’t mean we have to make conversation.” Edmonds turned his back and walked off. Alien didn’t pursue him, but after a minute took up his rounds again.

In the dimness of the wagon shed, Edmonds began to repair his plow. His mind wasn’t really on it. At last he nodded to “himself and returned to the house. Alien’s look followed his every step.

Inside, he asked Jane, “How’s our guest?”

“I took some food up to her,” she said. “Starved, she is. This is the first station she’s found.”

“She struck off entirely on her own?”

“Well, naturally she’d heard about the Underground Railroad, but only that it exists. She lived on roots, grubs, a few times a meal in a slave cabin. Swam the river last night during the storm, with a piece of driftwood to keep her afloat.”

“If ever anybody earned freedom, she has. How did she find us?”

“Came on a Negro man and asked. From what she told me, I think it must have been Tommy Bradford.”

Edmonds frowned. “I’d better speak to Tommy. He’s a steady fellow, but we’ll have to be more careful in future... Well, we’re pretty new in this traffic. Our first passenger.”

“Too soon,” she said fearfully. “We should have waited till thee had the hidey-hole dug and furnished.”

“This duty can’t wait, dear.”

“No, but— What shall we do? Those dreadful anti-Abolitionists in the neighborhood—they would be glad to see us ruined—”

“Speak no evil of people. Jesse Lyndon is misguided, but he’s not a bad man at heart. He’ll come to the light eventually. Meanwhile, I have a notion.” Edmonds raised his voice. “Jacob!”

The boy entered the plainly, comfortably furnished parlor. “Yes, father?” Excitement danced in his tone, his whole being.

Looming over him, Edmonds laid a hand on his shoulder. “Listen carefully, son. I have an errand for thee. We have a guest today. For reasons that thee doesn’t need to know, she’s staying in the attic. Her dress isn’t fit to be seen in. It was ail she had, but we will provide her decent clothes. I want thee to take the foul old garment elsewhere and get rid of it. Can thee do that?”

“Uh, y-yes, sure, but—”

“I told thee to listen close. Thee may go barefoot, which I know thee enjoys, and carry a basket. Pick up some dead-wood for kindling on thy way home, eh? Keep the dress down in the basket. We don’t want anybody offended. There is no hurry. Go across the road to the Lyndons’ woods. Do not gather sticks there, of course; that would be stealing. Saunter about, take pleasure in God’s beautiful creation. When thee is by thyself, put on a black kerchief thy mother will give thee to cover thy hair from the sun. It’s pretty muddy. Thee would do well to roll up thy sleeves and trousers, and pull the dress over’them. A smock to keep thine own clothes clean, understand? Just the same, I suppose thee’ll get thy head and arms and legs mired up.

Downright black, even. Well, I remember how I liked that when I was a kid.” Edmonds laughed. “Till I came back and my mother saw me! But this is a holiday for thee, so that such carelessness will be allowable.” He paused. “If perchance thee pass near the Lyndon house, so they spy thee, don’t linger. Don’t give them a good look, but run past quickly. They’d be scandalized to know young Jacob Edmonds was dressed and mucked like that. Dash back into the woods and bury the dress somewhere. Then circle back to our land and collect that kindling. Thee may take several hours all told.” He squeezed the shoulder and smiled. “How’s that sound, hm?”

His son had strained breathless at his words. Eagerness blazed: “Yes, sir! Wonderful! I can do it!”

Jane touched her man’s arm. “Matthew, dear, he’s only a child,” she protested.

Jacob reddened. Edmonds raised a palm. “There should be no danger to him if he’s as smart as I think he is. And thee,” he said sternly to the face below his, “remember Jesus doesn’t like bragging. Tomorrow I’ll give thee a note to the schoolmaster, that I needed thy help here today. That’s all that either of us has to tell anybody, ever. Got me?”

Jacob stood very straight. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“Good. I’d better get back to work. Have fun.” Edmonds stroked his wife’s cheek, softly and briefly, before he went out.

As he crossed the yard, Alien rode over and exclaimed, “What you been doin’?”

“Minding my own business,” Edmonds said. “We have a farm to run, if thee has not heard.” He went on into the shed and took up his task again.

It was near midday and he was growing hungry—Jacob doubtless wolfing the sandwiches Jane would have made— when the dogs barked and Alien whooped. Edmonds strolled into the warm sunlight. Alongside Gabe rode a man with curly brown hair and troubled youthful face. The three of them brought their horses to meet the farmer.

“Good day, friend Peter,” said Edmonds cheerily.

“Hi.” Deputy Sheriff Frayne bit the greeting off. He struggled a few seconds before he could go on. “Matt, I’m sorry, but this man’s gone to Judge Abshire and got a search warrant for your place.”

“That was not very neighborly of the judge, I must say.”

“He’s got to uphold the law, Matt. I do too.”

Edmonds nodded. “Everybody should, when it is at all possible.”

“Well, uh, they claim you’re hiding a fugitive slave. That’s a federal offense, Matt. I don’t like it, but it’s the law of the land.”

“There is another Law, Peter. Jesus Christ spoke it hi Nazareth. ‘The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath set me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.’ ”

“No more of your preachin’, Quaker!” Gabe shouted. He was tired, sweaty, on edge after so much faring to and fro. “Deppity, do your duty.”

“Search as thee will, thee will never find a slave on this land,” Edmonds declared.

Frayne stared. “You swear to that?”

“Thee knows I can’t give an oath, Peter.” Edmonds stood silent for a spell. Then, in a rush: “But it’d bother my wife and frighten our little ones, having ye ransack the house. So I’ll confess. I did see a Negro woman today.”

“You

“That’ll do, fellow!” Frayne rapped. “Any more and I’ll run you in for abuse, threat, and menace.” He turned to Edmonds. “Can you describe what you saw?”

“She was wearing a ragged yellow dress, badly stained, and it was clear she was traveling north. Before ye spend valuable time here, why not ask the people in that direction?”

Frayne scowled. “Um, yeah,” he said reluctantly, “the Lyndons are about a mile off, and they ... don’t like Abolitionists.”

“They ,might have1 seen something too,” Edmonds reminded him. “They wouldn’t keep it from thee.”

“The tracks we followed—“ Alien began.

Edmonds chopped air with his hand. “Bah! Barefoot tracks are everywhere. Look, if ye find nothing, hear nothing, yonder, ye can come back and search us. But I warn ye, it’ll take hours, as many possible hiding places as a big farm has got, and meanwhile a fugitive who was not here would get clean away.”

Frayne stared hard at him. Gabe opened his mouth. “He’s right,” the deputy said. “Let’s go.”

“I dunno—“ Gabe muttered.

“You want my help or not? I been hauled from my business hi town for this. I’m not about to lose another half a day watching you bumble around if it’s needless.”

“You go ask,” Gabe told Alien. “My turn to guard this place.”

“I’ll come along,” Frayne said, and rode off with the warrant in his pocket.

Jane appeared on the kitchen steps. “Dinner!” she hailed.

“I regret we cannot invite thee to share our table,” Edmonds said to Gabe. “A matter of principle. However, we’ll send food out.”

The slavecatcher shook his head, furiously, and swatted at a fly. “To hell with you,” he grated, and trotted to a vantage point.

Edmonds took his time washing up. He had barely finished saying grace when the dpgs barked once more. Glancing out a window, he and Jane saw the deputy ride back into the yard and over to Gabe. After they had talked a minute, Gabe spurred his horse and disappeared between the apple trees. Soon he came back to sight on the road, northbound in a hurry.

Edmonds went onto the steps. “Will thee come eat with us, friend Peter?” he called.

The deputy rode to him. “Thanks, but, uh, I’d better get on back,” he replied. “Another time, or you folks come in to Molly and me, hey? Maybe next week?”

“I thank thee. We’ll be in touch. Did the Lyndons have news?”

“Yeah, Jesse told as how he glimpsed what’s got to be her. We’ve seen the last of those two boys for a while, I guess.” Frayne hesitated. “I never thought you’d give out information like that.”

“I really didn’t want my house invaded.”

“N-no, but still—“ Frayne rubbed his chin. “You said no-body’d ever find a slave on your land.”

“I did.”

“Then I s’pose you haven’t joined the Railroad after all. There was some rumors.”

“It’s better not to listen to gossip.”

“Yeah. And better not wonder too much.” Frayne laughed. “I’m off. Give your missus my best.” He turned serious. “If you did ever tell a lie—if you ever do—I’m sure it’s in a rightful cause, Matt. I’m sure God will forgive you.”

“Thee is kind, but thus far falsehoods haven’t been necessary. Not but what I don’t have plenty of other sins to answer for. Good day, friend, and give thy Molly our love.”

The deputy tipped his hat and departed. When he was out of earshot, Edmonds stated, “There are no slaves. It’s against Christ’s teaching that human beings should be property.”

He went back in. Jane and William cast him expectant looks. Nellie gurgled. He smiled as widely as a mouth could stretch. “They are gone,” he said. “They took the bait. Let us give thanks to the Lord.”

“Mr. Frayne?” asked his wife.

“He’s gone home.”

“Good. I mean, he’d be welcome, but now we can bring Flora down to eat with us.”

“Oh, is that her name? Well, certainly. I should have thought of that myself.”

Jane left the kitchen, set the ladder against a wall, climbed it, opened the trapdoor, murmured. In a short while she returned with Flora at her heels. The colored girl walked warily, eyes darting to and fro. A gown of the wife’s rustled about her ankles. The knife quivered in her hand.

“Thee can surely put that from thee now,” Edmonds told her. “We’re safe.”

“We really is?” Her gaze searched his. She laid the knife on the counter.

“Thee should never have taken it up, thee knows,” Edmonds said.

A measure of strength had risen in the worn body. Pride rang: “Ah wasn’ goin’ back there nohow. Ah’d die fust. Hope Ah’d kill fust.”

“’Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath; for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’” Edmonds shook his head sadly. “I dread His punishment of this sinful land when it comes.” He stepped forward and took the swart hands in his. “But let’s not talk of such things. On second thought, we should eat right away and give thanks later, when we can feel properly joyful.”

“What then, massa?”

“Why, Jane and I will see to it thee get a hot bath. Later thee’d better sleep. We can’t risk keeping thee here. The hunters might be back tomorrow. As soon as it’s dark, tbee and I’ll be off to the next station. Have no fears, Flora. Thee ought to reach Canada in another month or less.”

“Yo’s mighty good, massa,” she breathed. Tears trembled on her lashes.

“We try our best here to do what the Lord wants, as well as we can understand it. And by the way, Fm nobody’s master. Now for pity’s sake, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

Shyly, Flora took Jacob’s chair. “Ah don’ need much, thank yo’, ma—suh an’ ma’m. The lady done gimme some-thin’ awready.”

“Well, but we’ve a plenty of meat to get onto those bones of thine,” answered Jane, and heaped her plate for her— pork roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, squash, beans, pickles, cornbread, butter, jam, tumbler on the side full of milk that had sat in the cool of the spnnghouse.

Edmonds kept up a drumfire of talk. “Here’s somebody who hasn’t heard my jokes and stories a score of times,” he said, and finally coaxed a few slight laughs from his guest.

After pie and coffee the grownups left William in charge of Nellie and retired to the parlor. Edmonds opened the family Bible and read aloud while they stood: “—And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows; and I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land and unto a good land and a forge, unto a land overflowing with milk and honey—”

Flora shivered. The tears ran free down her cheeks. “Let mail people go,” she whispered. Jane hugged her and cried too.

When they had prayed together, Edmonds regarded the girl a while. She met his look, flinching no longer. A sunbeam through a window turned her darkly aglow. For the first time today he felt unsure of himself. He cleared his throat. “Flora,” he said, “thee needs rest before nightfall, but maybe thee would sleep better for having told us something about thyself. Thee doesn’t have to. It’s just, well, here we are, if thee would like to talk to friends.”

“ ’Tain’t much to tell, suh, an’ some of it’s too awful.”

“Do sit,” Jane urged. “Never mind me. My father is a doctor and I’m a farm wife. I don’t flinch easy.”

They took chairs. “Did thee have far to go?” Edmonds asked.

Flora nodded. “’Deed Ah did, suh. Don’ know how many miles, but Ah counted de days an’ nights. Sebenteen o’ dem. Often thought Ah was gonna die. Didn’ min’ dat too much, long’s dey didn’ catch me. Dey was gonna sell me down de ribber.”

Jane laid a hand over hers. “They were? What on earth for? What were you doing there? I mean, your duties—”

“Housemaid, ma’m. Nuss to Massa Mon’gom’ry’s chillun, like Ah was to hisself when he little.”

“What? But—”

“’Twasn’ too bad. But dey sell me, Ah knowed Ah’d be a field nan’ ag’in, or wuss. B’sides, Ah’d been thinkin’ ‘bout freedom a long time. We heahs things an’ passes dem on to each othah, us black folks.”

“Wait a minute,” Edmonds broke in. “Did thee say thee was a—a mammy to thy master when he was a child? But thee can’t be that old.”

As Flora answered, he thought that already she bore herself like one free and, yes, proud. Maybe too proud. “Oh, Ah is, suh. Dat’s wny dey was fixin’ to sell me. Wasn’ no thin’ Ah did wrong. But yeah by yeah, Ah saw how Massa an’ Missus was watchin’ me mo’ an’ mo’ strange, same as ever’body else. Den when she died—well, Ah knowed he couldn’ stan’ habbin’ me dere no mo’. Could yo’ of?”

Both the Edmondses sat silent.

“Happened befo’,” Flora went on after a minute during which the grandfather clock had seemed to tick as loud as doom. “Dat’s how come Ah knows what it’s tike bein’ a field ban’. Not jes’ watchin’ an’ feelin’ sorry fo’ dem. No, Ah been dere. When dat ol’ Massa sol’ me to Massa Mon’gom’ry’s father, he didn’ say nothin’ ‘bout man age den. So Ah Jiggered dere was man chance.” She stopped, swallowed, looked at the carpet. “Better not tell yo’ how Ah got’m to notice me an’ git me trained fo’ de big house.”

Edmonds felt his cheeks go fiery. Jane patted the hand beneath hers and murmured, “Thee needn’t tell, dear. What choice has a slave ever had?”

“None, ma’m, an’ dat’s a fack. Ah was ‘bout fo’teen de fust time Ah was sol’, away from mah father an’ mother, an’ dat man an’ bofe his sons—“ Flora’s glance touched the Bible on its stand. “Well, we s’pose fo’gibe, ain’t we? Po’ young Marse Brett, he done get killed in de waw. Ah saw his pappy when de wuhd come, an’ would’a felt sorry fo’ him ‘cep’ Ah was too tired fum wuhk.”

A chill went along Edmonds’ backbone. “What war?”

“De Rebolution, it was. Yay, eben us slabes heard ‘bout dat.”

“But then thee— Flora, no, it can’t be! That would make thee ... about a hundred years old.”

Again she nodded. “Ah buried mah men, mah real men, an’ Ah buried chillun, when dey wasn’ sol’ off fum me, an’—“ Suddenly her firmness broke. She reached out toward him. “It’s been too long!”

“Were you born in Africa?” Jane asked low.

Flora fought for calmness. “No, ma’m, in a slabe cabin. But mah dad, he was stolen away fum dere. Used to tell us young’uns ‘bout it, de tribe, de foe-rest—said he was part Ay-rab, an’—“ She stiffened. “He daid. Dey all daid, and nebba free, nebba free. Ah swo’ to mahse’f Ah was gonna be, in deir names Ah was. So Ah followed de Drinkin’ Gourd an’—an’ heah Ah is.” She buried her face in her hands and wept.

“We must be patient,” Jane said across the bowed head. “She’s overwrought.”

“Yes, what she’s been through, I suppose that would drive anybody kind of crazy,” Edmonds agreed. “Take her away, dear. Give her that bath. Put her to bed. Sit with her till she sleeps.”

“Of course.” They went their separate ways.

Though Jacob came home jubilantly, supper was quiet. His parents had decided to leave Flora resting as long as possible. Jane would pack a basket of food for the next stage of the journey. Once she said, “Matthew, I wonder what she meant by following the Drinking Gourd. Does thee know?”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” he answered. “It’s the Big Dipper. The one constellation nobody can mistake. They have a song about it, the slaves, I believe.”

And he wondered what other songs went secretly through the land, and what songs might awaken in the future. Battle hymns? No, please, God, of Thy mercy, no. Withhold Thy wrath that we have so richly earned. Lead us to Thy light.

As dusk fell, he and Jacob rolled forth the buggy and harnessed Si to it. “Can I come along, father?” the boy asked.

“No,” Edmonds said. “I’ll be gone till nearly sunrise. Thee has school tomorrow after chores.” He rumpled the bright head. “Be patient. Man’s work will come on thee quite soon enough.” After a moment: “Thee made a fine start today. I can only hope the Lord won’t later want far more.”

Well, but Heaven waited, the reward that has no bounds. Poor half-mad Flora. What if somebody really did have to live on and on tike that, in bondage or hunted or—whatever menial thing she could become in Canada? Edmonds shuddered. God willing, as she met friendship along the Underground Railroad, she ought to recover her wits.

A lantern glowed. Jane brought the fugitive out and helped her into the buggy. Edmonds mounted to the driver’s seat. “Good night, my dear,” he said, and gently touched whip to horse. Wheels creaked down the drive and onto the road. The air was still fairly warm, though a touch of oncoming cold went through it. The sky ranged from purple in the west to velvety black in the east. Stars were blinking forth. The Big Dipper stood huge. Presently Edmonds made out the Little Dipper and Polaris in it, that guided north toward freedom.