Promise Bridge (34 page)

I rushed to the carriage. “Please leave me with something to sell. If I return empty-handed, we will be forced to auction some of our slave population to meet our financial burdens. We need slaves to harvest our crops.”

Suddenly, Winston was beside me, with his hat fidgeting in his hands. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, miz, maybe des gentlemen would prefer our tobacc’y.”

The patroller in the carriage dropped the lid with a bang. “Tobacco?”

I turned to Winston. I had no tobacco, and feared his outspoken remark would bring fierce recourse. Winston moved to the rear of the carriage and unwedged a large crate from its backside. He whacked his hand along the lid until it popped open. Packed inside was a wealth of cured tobacco leaves. The sight swirled the men in a circle around Winston. Shook joined them to get a closer look. After a long, anxious moment, he grinned.

“Now, this brings a pleasurable end to our conversation.”

The man in the carriage tossed aside the quilts in his arms and hopped down to join the other men. They tied the crate between two horses, and when they had their bounty secured, they turned to leave. Shook waited until Winston helped me into the carriage. He strode over to address me through the window. “We will consider this a necessary donation to the men upholding the Southern cause.”

“Indeed, Mr. Shook.”

“I advise you not to frequent this area in the future,” Shook said with an ominous smile. “Usually my men are not so easily satisfied.”

As Shook rode off, I looked at Winston, whose face had beaded over with sweat. Seeing the bewilderment in my gaze, he answered the question glimmering in my eyes.

“I tol’ Miz ’Gusta a little peace offerin’ might come in handy. She agreed, and gave it with her blessing.”

“Your forethought saved us, Winston.” As the bench lid creaked open and Elijah’s eyes appeared, I shuddered at the catastrophe we had averted. “Let’s move on. We have a long journey ahead, and I want to ride beyond the hateful threat of people like them.”

“I don’t know if there is a road stretchin’ dat far, Miz Hannah.” Winston’s words were tight with frustration. I forced a weary smile, knowing his forethought was accurate on this as well.

When the shadow of Cutter’s Pass was at our backs, my twisted stomach finally unwound. We had made it through the borderland, but were unsure where to turn our wheels. “If given the choice, I believe Livie would move far enough north to be safe, but near enough for Marcus to find her.” So we disregarded the path heading directly north toward Canada, and the road bending east to the sea. I worried that our search, even if successful, might prove too lengthy to help Colt. So we pressed on, both night and day, with only brief periods of rest.

We weathered several more days without seeing a soul. The mountains were endless as we wound through valleys and up into the hills once more. We rode silently past a small settlement of a dozen buildings burned to the ground, their charred remains remnants of an unspeakable horror. In the slackened faces of Winston and his family, I could see that the North was not the Promised Land they held in their dreams.

In the heat of the day, I climbed up next to Winston to take in the air. The afternoon was alive with birds and honeybees, and as we emerged from a thicket of trees, a vale opened to us. From above, the valley spread green with fields and a modest creek snaking through it north to south. No person could be seen from where our wagon paused, but several lines of white smoke curled from beyond the nearest hill, marking a town where perhaps food and direction could be found.

We plodded along slowly so Winston could measure the vulnerability of the area. When finally we crested the hill and looked down upon the cabins below, my breath hitched as I surveyed the dark figures milling about.

“What an amazing sight,” I muttered with gaping wonder. “It looks like a well-maintained slave quarters, without the harness of a plantation.”

I had heard discussion of these towns where former slaves settled in refuge from the life they had fled, but seeing it seemed like a trick of the eye. Two young girls chased butterflies in a field barely a stone’s throw from where we watched. One froze when she caught sight of us. She squealed at the other and both ran off toward town, looking over their shoulders to see if we were in chase.

“These horses are parched with thirst,” Winston said, allowing the weary animals to tread on cautiously. “We will water them at the stream below.”

Winston guided the wagon forward as faces peered through distant windows and men halted chores to posture for confrontation. By now, a small crowd of mostly women gathered on the road where it entered the cluster of cabins. Some pointed and called to those busy at work in the surrounding fields. Others huddled in hushed conversation, watching us warily as Winston allowed the horses to clop toward them.

The eyes of one of the women glimmered with familiarity. I studied the details of her face until suddenly it struck me. The woman was Raizy, the hardened runaway first encountered when Livie was shot in the meadow and hidden in the cave. I remembered her cold insistence that Livie be left behind for the good of the group. Her face was now softer and free of bitter intensity, but it was definitely her.

Winston pointed his finger toward a jagged piece of lumber nailed onto an oak tree along the road where we paused. I held up my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. Broad letters carved into the wood spelled out the name of the town . . . PROMISE BRIDGE.

Chapter 35

M
y heart lifted with hope. A young girl I recognized as Lillabelle, though taller and less fearful, ran toward a cabin on the hillside to our left, crying out words I could not discern. Beyond the rear of the cabin was a large garden sown with potatoes, carrots, and corn. A young woman appeared from between the rows of corn to see what the ruckus was about. She held a hoe in one hand and used the other to brace a baby in a shoulder sling.

“Oh, my God! It’s Livie!”

As if reading my lips, she dropped the hoe and struck her hand skyward. “Hannaaaaah!”

Livie raced down the hill toward us, as I sprang from the carriage and bolted to her. Her broad smile coming toward me made me burst into tears. I willed my legs to run faster, until finally we leapt into each other’s arms, weeping and holding on to one another with joyful elation. Livie touched her hands to my face, and I covered hers with kisses as we convinced ourselves the moment was not a dream. Fate gave me my precious friend back, making my heart overflow with gratitude.

“Can’t believe it’s really you.” Livie laughed while brushing the tears from my face. “I never thought we would lay eyes on each other again.”

I could not restrain myself from hugging her over and over. “You made it, Liv! You made it through safely. Not a day has passed when I have not pondered your fate, but here you are. Here
we
are.” I stroked Jameson’s tuft of soft curls and marveled at how much he had grown. Bathed in our euphoria, he lit up with a smile that made us burst into laughter.

“James, look who dropped from the heavens,” Livie sang out to her husband as he trotted down the road.

“Miz Hannah and Winston,” he called out, waving his hat. “Don’t this beat all.”

They yelped with glee when Esther Mae and Elijah stepped from the coach interior. Winston and his family threw their arms around Livie and James. The reunion felt like such pure joy that tears rose in my eyes once more.

“Take them down to the stream so they can wash up,” Livie said, lifting Jameson from the pouch and giving him over to James. “Hannah and me got a mess o’ catchin’ up to do while we fix us all a bite to eat.”

Livie reached out and touched my cheek. We stood gazing at each other, still recovering from our shock and disbelief. She let her finger run down my neck until it looped beneath the gold necklace attached to the ring she gave me. Then she held out her hand to proudly display my gift, fit snugly on her finger. “Don’t have to hide it no more. Whenever I was missin’ you, I held tight to my ring. Nearly wore it out clutchin’ at it so much.”

“Me too,” I laughed as I slipped my ring off the chain and placed it on my finger. “But even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined there was a way to find you again.”

Livie perked up like a peacock and took me by the hand. “Come see my home.”

Livie beamed with pride as she welcomed me into her modest cabin. “We finally got room enough to turn ’round without bumping into each other.” She showed me the small room off the main quarters where Jameson’s cradle and clothes trunk were tucked with cozy comfort. A loft built overhead served as James and Livie’s bedroom, leaving the main room of the cabin neatly arranged with a simple set of table and chairs, a trivet and cook pot in the fireplace, and a pair of hearthside rockers. James’ handiwork could be seen not only in the framework of the cabin, but in most of the contents within. I warmed with pleasure at Livie’s claim on independence.

We giggled as we had so many times in the past when we were hidden away from the world in my bedchamber. Although it was scandalous for me to feel so, I was overjoyed to partake in warm cider and sliced bread in the home of my friend, a former slave twice escaped, who found a way to achieve the impossible. Using her as inspiration, I wondered if I could do the same.

“Livie, I need to find Marcus.”

Livie sat her cup on the table. “Now, what crazy notion do you got in yo’ head, girl?”

I flushed. “It’s not what you think. I need his help.”

Livie’s eyes glanced over my shoulder, and I sensed someone behind me. I turned as Marcus stepped in the door.

“Have mercy,” he said, taking my hands as I moved to him. “I can’t believe it’s you, sittin’ here like you’re on a Sunday visit.”

“Thank God you are here,” I said as my heart stuttered with relief. “I feared your whereabouts would be unknown.”

“You nearly missed me. I am leavin’ on a freedom run by week’s end.”

“I had to come,” I said with urgency that kept me from enjoying the moment. Marcus settled in with Livie and me at the table, all the while shaking his head.

“Girl, you got powerful gumption coming here, but it’s too dangerous fo’ you to bring runaways this far north. There is bounty hunters round every corner sniffin’ like pack dogs with the scent o’ blood in the air. They don’t care who they turn a gun on these days. Don’t matter if you is white, even less if you is a woman. The hateful vermin are turnin’ on each other, North and South. I overheard two paddy rollers say war might come of it. When you go back home, you gots’ta lay low and don’t draw no wary eyes yo’ way. It be best to leave the runaways to the friends and safe houses already in place.”

I hesitated a moment to maintain my composure. “I am not returning home. My journey is only half over.”

Before I could explain, James and Winston’s family came through the door. Winston shook Marcus’s hand. “Did Miz Hannah tell you about Mista Colt?”

Livie turned to me, her eyes glazing with concern. “I was so happy to see you, I didn’t think about why you are here. What’s happened? It must be mighty bad to risk comin’ here.”

“Colt has been taken hostage by marauders in the borderland mountains. He is deemed a traitor, so no one will help us. I refuse to stand by and do nothing. If the location of their encampment is revealed to me, I will plead for his release. My hope is that Marcus can draw me a map or give me instruction on where these marauders gather.” I reached out and took his hand. “With your knowledge of the mountains, I pray you can give me some direction.”

“I bet I know where he is,” Marcus said, setting off a collective gasp around the table. He nodded at me, then looked at the others. “I know the border area better than I know these hills nestled around Promise Bridge. I’ve led plenty o’ runaways up through the hills where Pennsylvania and the western tip of Virginny rub elbows. There is a small vale tucked in the hills where hordes o’ paddy rollers and other varmints hole up and carouse. I know the way, and my roamin’ instincts tell me we’ll find Colt there.”

I squeezed his hand. “What are you saying, Marcus?”

“I am sayin’ every soul here at this table was helped in some way by that man. So even if it means pokin’ the beast with a stick, I will try findin’ him. I am obliged to do right by a man who’s done right by me.”

“I’ll go with you, Marcus,” James said with a deep voice of conviction. “I got a fire in me sayin’ it gots’ta be done.”

“I feel de same,” Winston said. “No doubt about it.”

Fear flashed in the eyes of both Esther Mae and Livie, but so too did staunch support. I paused in awe of their immediate gesture of solidarity, and their willingness to take action. Everyone began talking at the same time; the men about how soon to leave, and the women about preparing supplies for the journey. Their voices slowly rose to dull chaos, so they did not hear me when I spoke.

“I shall go with you,” I said softly. When no one responded, I raised my voice in firm declaration. “I said, I am going with you!”

Their voices trailed off as their heads turned toward me. I stared back at them with my chin jutted firmly, poised for objection. It took a moment for them to digest my words, but once they did Marcus fired back.

“Is you crazy, girl? You ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s too dangerous.”

“Colt has stood by me from the moment I entered his life. Each one of you has reason to help Colt. I am no different, except my loyalty runs longer and deeper. He has never turned his back on me, even when I gave him little in return. Our bond has remained steadfast. There is not one of you who does not understand the bond of love and friendship, and would do the same if you were me.”

“Yo’ heart is in the right place, girl,” Marcus said evenly. “But this ain’t no game. And it ain’t no place for a woman like you. You could get killed.”

“I am not a fool,” I announced to the group. “And I have never swayed or lost resolve in any of the unconventional choices made to this point.”

Livie patted my hand empathetically. “No one thinks you is a fool, girl. Yo’ mind is powerful strong enough, but what if things turn ugly?”

“
What if
they turn ugly?” I held out my less-than-perfect hands for them to see. “These hands clawed in the dirt to aid Marcus in his cause. Livie, they wiped your brow when you lay unconscious in the cave, helpless with fever. I stood next to Colt and nursed a town ravaged by flood. These hands may blister and bleed, but they have never let me down. And they have never let any of you down. I have stopped living my life restrained in a corset of
what ifs
. My soul came alive once I began moving freely with the belief of
why not?
”

Livie squeezed my hand, understanding my heart better than anyone. “You do what you gots’ta do, girl.” She smiled in support of my decision. “I know yo’ heart is the stickin’ kind, and not gonna peel off and run in hard times. No one knows that better than me.”

“Thank you for your belief in me, Liv.” I turned to convince Marcus. “Do you plan on walking all the way to Virginia? Colt could be dead long before you set foot on Southern soil. If I go, we can travel by carriage under the guise of missionary work.”

“Three colored men and one white woman ain’t gonna pass without suspicion,” Marcus countered back.

I was relieved when Winston added his thought to the argument. “Well, now, Miz Hannah has a good point about travelin’ by carriage. And we got the hidden compartment, so we can crawl outta sight if trouble comes a-callin’.”

Marcus locked his powerful gaze on mine and measured my conviction. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and nodded.

“We’ll leave by midday tomorrow.”