Honor (26 page)

In spite of everyone watching, Samuel helped her down and clasped her to him, comforting her. She clung to him. They’d done all they could. She knew God held Caleb in his hand, and she prayed he would guide the child home to them, safe.
Please, Lord.

NOVEMBER 11, 1819

“Hello the house!” A deep, unfamiliar voice called from outside, summoning Honor. She stood at the table, gathering up the tableware from breakfast. Another night and a new morning had come since Caleb had run away. Her pulse quickened. Had someone found him?

“Coming!” she called. She stepped outside and halted in her tracks, her welcoming smile dying on her lips.

Two rough-looking men with rifles at their sides sat on the bench of a wagon. One appeared older, with gray in his unruly hair and beard, and the other much younger. A grandfather and grandson? Caleb sat between them, his hands and feet tied.

She stepped forward and the boy’s name died on her lips. Not only couldn’t the boy hear her, but another sight shocked her to silence. In the back of the wagon, two black men slumped, shackled hand and foot to iron rings embedded in the wood.

Slave catchers. A silent gasp filled her lungs. Two of this brand of wicked men had kidnapped her Royale. And now two others had come to her door. Her heart plummeting, Honor couldn’t find her voice.

Eli ran from the cabin. “Caleb!” He halted. “Why you tie him up?”

“We’re slave catchers, boy,” the older one said. He had one eye whose lid stayed half shut. “We found this kid by the side of the road,” he said around the wad of chaw in his cheek. “We asked around and heard a boy gone missing. Everybody said head this way, that the boy was deaf and wanted here in Sharpesburg.” He spit over the side of the wagon.

“The blacksmith sent us to your door. What do you want a deaf kid for?” the younger man with long, greasy hair asked, looking at her boldly.

She ignored his inappropriate attention. One glance at the battered and beaten slaves told her these two knew nothing of compassion. She’d heard people say their skin crawled when encountering something extremely distasteful, and now she felt it herself. “Caleb was left with us by his parents. Eli, run and get thy uncle, please.”

Honor did not feel safe around these men. She didn’t like the way they looked at her, and Caleb appeared terrified. Had they hurt the boy? She had no way to ask him. Honking geese flew overhead in a V, filling the frustrated silence between them.

Samuel and Eli joined her. She noted that Judah, Royale, and Perlie remained inside. “Thank them for bringing Caleb back,” her husband signed. He moved to lift the boy down.

“Not so fast,” the younger slave catcher said, shifting between Samuel and Caleb. “We spent half a day—”

“More’n half a day,” the older interrupted, “carrying the kid round, looking for this place.”

“Yeah,” the younger agreed. “And time is money.”

Though signing what they said to Samuel, Honor stared at them, aghast. Previously they’d said they found Caleb beside the road. No doubt Caleb had finally given up and come to the roadside, and these two opportunists had snatched him up. And they were demanding a bounty.

Samuel signed for Honor to ask how much they wanted.

Honor did so numbly.

“Two bucks,” the older one said, belligerent.

Samuel signed for her to go inside and bring out his purse. She did so and handed it to Samuel, who unclasped it.

Then he opened his palm, revealing the silver coins, and motioned for them to hand him the child.

The older slave catcher grabbed the money, and the other moved so Samuel could lift Caleb into his arms.

Honor stepped closer to her husband, still uneasy.

“We heard your man was deaf,” the younger slave catcher said, actually leering at her now. “Couldn’t you do no better? A pretty gal like you?”

Honor flushed hotly at the question, though she’d heard it before. “Thee is impertinent. Our business is done. Leave.”

They laughed as if she’d told them a joke. The older one slapped the reins and turned the wagon.

Honor stood with her hand tucked into Samuel’s arm and watched the wagon drive away. The black men in the back looked crushed, their eyes staring at her without hope.

Honor had trouble breathing. She’d been able to rescue Royale but was powerless now. She and Samuel were no
match for the slave catchers, who were armed and protected by law.

The wagon disappeared around a bend. “Untie him, please,” Honor said.

Her words proved unnecessary since Samuel had set the boy down and was already undoing the knots.

Caleb began weeping, and the desolate sound tore at her heart.

She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the boy, careful not to block Samuel’s efforts. When Caleb was free, he clung to her and she to him. Only then did she notice that Caleb had fresh bruising and a cut by his eye. Reacting without thinking, she signed, “Did they hit thee?”

Samuel growled in his throat, a menacing sound, something she’d never heard him do before.

Honor glanced at her husband’s face, contorted in rage. Heartened by his similar reaction to the slave catchers’ unfeeling behavior, she touched his hand and signed, “Take him inside so I can examine him. He might have other bruises or cuts.”

Honor followed as Samuel carried Caleb into the house and sat him on the bench. She ran her hands over him, watching to see if he showed pain at her touch. The little boy sat silent and morose, tears washing his dirty face. “He doesn’t seem to be hurt other than the bruise.”

The boy’s stomach grumbled, and he peered at Honor with hesitation.

“Yes,” Honor said and signed. “I’ll get something for thee to eat right now.”

Stepping outside, she called Perlie, who was already bringing corn bread and fried salt pork. Judah and Royale stood just outside the door, watching Caleb.

Honor and Royale exchanged glances filled with horror over what had just come to their door. Turning away so Samuel couldn’t read her lips, she said, “I couldn’t do anything for the two men.”

Royale nodded and didn’t object when Judah put an arm around her shoulders. The sight lifted Honor’s mood, but only a mite. What a sad world sin had caused.

The boy inhaled the food and drank several cups of sweet coffee. When he finished, he fell asleep on the bench where he sat.

Samuel caught him before he slid under the table and carried him up to the loft.

The six of them stood together outside in the crisp autumn day, facing each other. “We must make Caleb welcome in every way we can,” she signed and said.

“I’ll play with him,” Eli volunteered.

“That’s good, Eli,” Honor said. “I don’t think he’ll run away again.” After being caught by those hard men, who would? Her whole body clenched with outrage at the callous pair. The desolate eyes of the escaped slaves in the back of the wagon flickered in her thoughts, bringing a tide of sympathy and overcoming her caution. “I wish I could have gotten the slaves away from them.”

“That is not our business,” Samuel signed. “Those men are merely carrying out the law.”

Samuel’s hand sought hers. But even as she accepted his touch, Samuel’s unsympathetic reply about the slave
catchers caused her heart to pull back. Royale, Judah, and Perlie excused themselves and headed off. As they walked away, Royale repeated Samuel’s words aloud to Perlie, who was having trouble learning to sign. Perlie shook her head. Honor felt their dark response to Samuel’s words.

Still, he was only giving the same opinion about runaway slaves that most everyone else would give. Only a few—and most of them Quakers—thought slavery should be abolished. Another belief that distinguished the Society of Friends and caused others to mock and distrust them.

Honor recalled how her neighbors in Maryland, people whose great-grandparents had known her great-grandparents, had shunned her for her belief in abolition. How Darah and her own grandfather, two she had loved, had forsaken her. She tried to wash her mind of these thoughts.

She had married Samuel Cathwell. Now she must continue drawing closer to him—even though he didn’t share her belief in abolition. Still, she couldn’t forget what she’d seen this day. Would never forget her own powerlessness. There must be something she could do.

NOVEMBER 25, 1819

Roused, Honor blinked herself awake. Careful not to interrupt her husband’s sleep before she knew what had disturbed her, she sat up in bed. Moonlight shone through the windows.

Royale, wrapped tightly in a shawl, waited beside Honor’s bed. What had brought her out in the middle of the night?

Trying to wake fully, Honor began turning to Samuel.

Swiftly Royale claimed her arm. “No,” she whispered and motioned for Honor to come out into the larger room.

Confused but trusting, Honor slid her feet into her slippers. Royale already held her dressing gown and helped Honor into it. When they reached the outer door, Royale offered her a wool shawl, hanging on a peg there.

Royale led her out into the chill night under faint moonlight. A few feet from the house, Honor halted. “What’s wrong?” Then she noticed that Royale had brought the medicine chest along. “Is Perlie or Judah sick?”

“Somebody sick.”

Honor wanted to question her, but the brittle chill hurried them toward the kitchen. Within seconds Royale was waving Honor inside, where the fire glowed bright. Inside the door, Judah stood, watchful.

Perlie sat on the bench at the small table. Beside her slumped a stranger, a woman of very dark complexion. In the low light, Honor saw the woman was barefoot, clad in only a thin, tattered dress, and without even a shawl against the cold.

With this one glance, Honor knew all. A runaway slave. An invisible hand clutched her stomach, fear of lawbreaking, fear for the woman. “What is amiss?”

The stranger began weeping. “She gon’ turn me in, give me to the catchers.”

“No,” Royale said, “I told you she would help.”

Royale’s confidence tore something inside Honor. For a moment Honor hated her white skin, hated that this woman would fear her on that basis alone.

Turning to the practical, she had to see what was needed. “Judah, please draw the curtains,” Honor directed. “Perlie, please light more candles on the table.” As the cook lit candles, Honor asked the stranger, “What ails thee?”

The stranger rocked back and forth in her distress.

“Trust me,” Honor murmured, touching the woman’s
bony shoulder. “Thee can trust me.” No one on earth could make her turn this woman in.

“You a Quaker. Thank the Lord. Please, can you help me, ma’am?” the woman whispered. “I cut the side of my foot on a piece of glass. It infected.”

The desperation in the voice rattled through Honor. “Of course I’ll help.” She fell back into a role she’d been raised for—the lady caring for her people. Throwing off her shawl and wrapping it around the woman’s bent shoulders, Honor knelt down and opened the chest that Royale had placed at her side. “Royale, I’ll need warm water.”

“We already got it warmin’,” Perlie replied.

“And rags.”

“Everything too new for that,” Royale said.

“Then tear up a clean dishcloth into squares. And another into wide strips as a bandage.”

Quickly Royale obeyed, and soon Honor was bathing the woman’s foot in warm salt water and dealing with the infection that had caused the foot to swell. The woman made no sound, but Honor felt her despair lap like cold waves of water against her heart.

Finally she bandaged the foot with the clean linen. “That should begin to help the healing. Can thee walk?”

“I got to, ma’am.” The woman’s voice shook with fear. “I hide during the days. Run all night.”

Honor looked to Perlie. “What can thee feed her?”

Perlie rose. “Got some leftover corn bread, milk, and syrup.”

“I overhear some passerby sayin’ there be a Quaker
along here. So I prayed God would lead me to that house,” the runaway said, her voice still quavering.

Honor grasped the woman’s work-worn hand. “Thee isn’t running till tomorrow night. Thee must rest.”

“Oh, ma’am . . .” The woman began weeping, no doubt from exhaustion, from terror. “I hate to put you in danger of the law. I come across from Kentucky. Been runnin’ four nights.” Her words gushed out like a pent-up dam, all her anxiety and loneliness spilling over. “I been afraid to ask for help, even when I saw other blacks in Cincinnati. Then I see this little cabin and thought servants might be in here.” She wiped away tears with her fingertips. “I look in the window and tap on it. I couldn’t go on without help.”