Storm Clouds Rolling In (51 page)

Miles was waiting for him just inside the door.
Jamison nodded at him. Without a word, Miles disappeared into the shadows. Moments later the other seven fugitives were standing next to him. They all looked worn, but the light of freedom still shone brightly in their eyes. Not once had they thought of turning back.

“The wagon is behind the barn,” Jamison whispered.

The fugitives nodded.
They knew what to do. Silently, they filed from the barn and took their positions under the hay. The huge mound had served them well. Miles led the horses from the barn and quickly harnessed them to the wagon. Then, he too, crawled under the hay.

Jamison had just taken his place on the seat and picked up the reins when he heard the pounding of hooves coming up the road.
He froze on the seat, his mind racing.

Cartwright appeared at his side.
“Into the woods. This doesn’t sound good.”

Jamison vaulted from his seat and ran to the back of the wagon.
“Everybody out,” he commanded in a low voice. The pounding drew closer as the wagon emptied and he found himself staring into eight sets of frightened eyes. There was no time for explanations. “Follow me.” He turned and ran for the woods.

Once they were all concealed, he crept back to see what was happening.
              Cartwright emerged from the barn when three men rode up on horseback. “Can I help you gentleman?” he asked calmly.

Adams stared down at the fully dressed man.
“Awful late to be out working in your barn,” he sneered.
Cartwright stared back at him. “Awful late to be calling on folks,” he responded evenly.

Adams cursed and swung from his saddle.
His wiry form seemed small next to Cartwright’s bulk. “I hear you been hiding some slaves, Cartwright.”

Cartwright gave a short laugh.
“That can be dangerous business nowadays.”

Martin, the older of the two slave hunters, snickered.
“
Real
dangerous business, Cartwright. The courts don’t think none too highly of your activities. Come to think of it—I don’t either.” He fingered his pistol meaningfully.

Cartwright’s voice hardened.
“I wouldn’t be making accusations if I were you, mister. You won’t find any fugitive slaves on my property and I don’t appreciate your tone.”

Adams moved around him arrogantly and peered into his barn.
“Mind if we look around in your barn?”

“I don’t reckon you’ve got any business in my barn.
I suggest you boys just be moving on.”

Martin swung from his horse slowly and walked over to Cartwright.
With a menacing grin, he raised his pistol suddenly and held it to his head. “It’s been a long month for me, mister. I ain’t in the mood for no games. I got me eight niggers to catch and then I can go home. You catch my meaning?”

Cartwright shrugged his shoulders.
“Go ahead and take a look. You won’t be finding anything.”

Jamison slunk back further into the shadows as Adams stared toward the woods.
He was thankful for the rain that had fallen earlier that evening. Wet sticks didn’t crack as easily as dry ones.

Adams emerged from the barn just as Martin walked around the back.
“There ain’t no slaves in that barn.”

“Well looky here!” Martin exclaimed.
“What’s this wagon doing behind your barn, Cartwright?”

“Just got back from hauling a load of hay,” Cartwright responded casually.
“I hadn’t had time to unhitch the horses and put them away.”

“This hay ain’t even wet,” Martin said in a hard voice.

“I put my wagon in a neighbor’s barn during the rain,” Cartwright said sarcastically.
“How else do you think it stayed dry?”

Martin flushed with anger.
“Look, Cartwright. I know you’re part of that Underground Railroad. If there are any slaves here I intend to find them. And when I do, you’re going to get the same treatment as them. Nigger-lovers don’t mean scum to me.”

“Like I already said
—you won’t find any slaves here,” Cartwright snapped.

Martin pushed by him and stalked back to the wagon.
Pulling out his whip he cracked it over and over into the wagon. Wisps of hay flew through the air as the wicked tip of the instrument slashed through it. Once he had satisfied his curiosity
and
his anger, he turned from the wagon with a scowl.

Adams emerged from the house.
“The slaves ain’t in here, either.” Frustration and anger oozed from his words.

Martin cursed and turned to stare into the dark woods.
“They’re out there in the woods,” he said coldly. He whipped out his pistol and fired several shots into the thick undergrowth. “That should at least make them wet their pants,” he said with a harsh laugh. He wheeled on Cartwright. “Be glad we don’t have our dogs or I’m pretty sure there would soon be eight caught niggers.” He glared at Cartwright, and swung up onto his horse. “I’ll be back. One of these days I’m going to catch you with some niggers, and you’re going to wish you’d never gotten involved with the Underground Railroad.”

Cursing loudly, the
three men galloped back down the dark road. Cartwright raised his hand toward the woods and then disappeared into his house.

Jamison had seen enough.
Cartwright had done all he could. Using the wagon again was out of the question. Adams was smart enough to wait at the end of the drive until he tried to move the slaves. He turned and moved quietly into the woods. Within minutes, he found the fugitives huddled behind some large oaks. He lowered himself next to them. “We’re on our own now,” he said firmly. “We’ll have to make it to Philadelphia on foot. It isn’t that far. It will take us a few days, but we can do it.”

The somber eyes looking back at him never wavered.
Miles stood. “Let’s get to it, then. We’s going to be free.”

Carrie and Rose made their way down the path to the
slave quarters. It was their first time alone together since Carrie had returned from Philadelphia. It was Sunday, and Thomas was stationed by his wife’s bed. He knew where to find her if Abigail took a turn for the worse.

“Sarah!
It’s so good to see you again.” Carrie moved forward to give the old woman a hug.

“Welcome, Miss Carrie. You be a sight for sore eyes.
How’s your mama?”

Carrie frowned.
“I’m worried, Sarah. Nothing I do seems to make any difference. She’s not getting any worse, but she’s not getting any better either.”

“You thinkin’ that fever done burned the life out of her?”

Carrie smiled slightly. Sarah always knew what she was thinking. She nodded. “I’ve read about that happening. The fever wears down the body and it just doesn’t seem to be able to come back.” She paused, “I’ve come to ask for your help, Sarah.”

Sarah watched her closely.
“Go on, child.”

“I know there are remedies the black people use.
Ones I have never heard of. Could they help my mama?” She leaned forward and fixed her eyes on Sarah.

Sarah nodded slowly.
“They couldn’t hurt none, Miss Carrie. Your mama was awful sick,” she said thoughtfully, “but there ain’t no way to know unless we try.”

“You’ll teach me what they are?”
Carrie asked hopefully.”

“Yessum, Miss Carrie.
I’ll teach you. You be here tomorrow morning ‘fore the sun comes up. And don’t wear no fancy clothes. I’d hate for you to ruin them.”

Carrie was down at Sarah’s cabin as soon as the eastern sky
began to glow softly. Sarah was already waiting outside for her. She handed her a coarse cloth bag and moved toward the woods. Carrie followed quietly.

“Rose be with your
mama?” Carrie nodded. Satisfied, Sarah continued her plunge into the woods. They walked for several minutes before Sarah stopped and motioned for Carrie to join her on a log. Carrie sat down. She had learned long ago not to question Sarah’s ways. She would explain herself when she was good and ready.

“There be some things you need to know before we keep going,” she started.
“Old Sarah is going to teach you the magic of the plants that grow in the earth. God didn’t put his people on the earth without givin’ them some ways to take care of what ails them. My mama taught me the magic. Her mama taught her. The magic gets passed down. The plants here be diff’rent din the ones in Africa but they’s all got magic. You just got to learn it.”

“Who taught you the plants here in Virginia?” Carrie asked.

“You wouldn’t be remembering Betsy cuz you was just a little girl when she died,” Sarah replied. “She lived here on your daddy’s plantation for all her life. She took me under her wing when I’s first got here. She knew the magic better din anyone else. She done taught me.”

“Does Rose know the magic?”

Sarah frowned and shook her head. “She knows a little, but she seems to think she don’t need to know it. She puts a lot of stock in readin’ and books. Not that they ain’t important,” she hastened to add, “but she’s letting go of somethin’ rich. I always figured God wants us to use whatever we got to use. If we find somethin’ new, it don’t mean the old ain’t good no more. It just means that the new makes the old better. All of it is still good. And sometimes the new ain’t as good as the old. If you throw the old out you ain’t got nothin’.”

Carrie nodded.
As usual, the old woman made good sense. “I want to learn the magic, Sarah.”

Sarah stared into her eyes.
“You got the healin’ touch, Miss Carrie. I been watchin’ you a long time. You for sho got the healin’ touch.”

“I want to, Sarah.
Oh, how I want to.”

“Trust me, girl.
You got it.” Having delivered her final word, Sarah rose again and began to walk further into the woods.

Carrie followed, gazing around her at the lush undergrowth.
Ferns, nestled in the shady nooks of protective trees, waved their fronds in the early morning stillness. Summer wildflowers raised their heads and drank in the early morning dew. “Do you know what all the plants are, Sarah?”

“I be knowin’ most of them.”

“What kind of tree is this?” Carrie asked as she stopped to tip her head back to get a good look at the tree towering over her.

Sarah moved back to join her.
“That be a maple tree,” Sarah said with a smile. “It be one of my favorite trees. In the spring, it sends down little whirligigs for the chillun to play with. In the fall, it blazes with a color that makes you ache inside. God done made that tree a real special one.”

“I want to learn all the plants, Sarah,” Carrie said impulsively, suddenly very glad to be out in the woods away from the confines of the house.

“Good,” Sarah said shortly. “That’s what we be out here for. By the time we get done out here in these woods you’re gonna be knowin’ all the growin’ things. But you got to know more than just what they be. You gots to know the right time to pick what you be lookin’ for. You gots to know how to take care of it. You gots to know what to do with it. You got a passel of learnin’ to do, Miss Carrie.”