A Quilt for Christmas (15 page)

She leaned back against the black leather seat, which had cracked in places so that white lines ran from the tufted spots. She was grateful for Will's thoughtfulness in buying the buggy. She and Clara would have been soaked and chilled to their bones in the open wagon. Besides, the buggy was faster—and quieter. The farm wagon could have been heard a quarter mile away in the still night. Davy had removed the bells from the buggy just before Eliza left, and it moved silently in the dark.

Eliza had almost reached the Eagles farm, when she heard horses and a wagon behind her, going fast. In a few minutes, the driver would overtake her. She felt Clara's head rise and knew she had awakened at the sound.

“Mens?” Clara asked.

“I don't know, but best we be cautious. Probably it's a farmer on the road late, or maybe a man out courting.” Suddenly, she was afraid. They were two women, one with a price on her head, alone on the dark road. There was no one to look out for her, no man to protect her. A grove of trees loomed up just off the road, and Eliza made for it. The moon was hidden under the clouds, and if they were lucky, whoever was on the road would ride on by without seeing them. Eliza hoped the rain had covered their tracks on the road.

She whipped the reins against Sabra's back and hurried the horse down a lane and into the trees, then stopped under the largest one, whose branches dipped almost to the ground. She jumped out of the buggy and put her hands on the animal's head to quiet her, hoping the scent of the horses on the road wouldn't cause Sabra to neigh. Clara got out of the buggy, too, and came up next to Eliza, saying she would hold the mare. “Get in the buggy, mist'ess, and keep you dry.” The rain was falling as hard as ever.

“I am not your mistress, Clara. I am only Mrs. Spooner,” Eliza said in a low voice. Then she added, “Maybe you should hide in the ditch or out in the field, just in case someone is up to no good.”

“I not leave you alone,” Clara said.

“It will be safer for both of us if you do. If there are men looking for you, you will have a chance to get away. The house up ahead, on the left. That is Mrs. Eagles's place. You can explain that I sent you there.” She thought a moment, then asked, “Do you know left from right?”

Clara nodded but said, “I stay here to protect you.”

Eliza would have none of it and explained that it would go harder on her, too, if slave catchers found her with Clara. She looked around. “The ditch is filled with water, and the fields are too open. Can you climb the tree?”

Clara grinned, the first time Eliza had seen her grin. “Like a squirrel, Miz Spooner.”

“It may not be necessary. Wait and see.” They spoke in whispers, although the road was a hundred yards away. She whispered to the mare, too, to quiet her, but Sabra caught the scent of the other horses and gave a loud whinny.

The wagon stopped, and a man called, “Who's out there?”

“Hide, then don't move a peg,” Eliza whispered, and Clara began to climb the branches. When Eliza looked up, she could not make out the woman's shape. She patted Sabra, hoping the horse would make no further noise, but then the horse whinnied again, and a man called, “Show yourself. I got a gun.” The wagon started up and headed toward the trees.

Eliza had no choice. “It's Mrs. Will Spooner,” she called. And then she added. “And son.”

“Well, Mrs. Spooner, why didn't you say so? I'm Hoyt Wymer out here. What are you doing in them trees?”

“I shall come for you,” Eliza whispered, hoping Clara could hear her. Then she got into the buggy, muttering, “Nothing ventured, nothing have,” and drove to the man. “Mr. Wymer, you put a fear into me,” she said. “I have been sitting with a friend who is ill, and I did not know how late it had gotten. When I heard your wagon, I thought it best to hide. I suppose I am a silly little thing, frightened by the dark.” She hoped that the rain had covered up her buggy tracks so that he had not noticed she had been going down the road before him, not toward him.

“You ought'n to be out here. Where's your son?”

“Oh, I just said that, in case you were up to no good.”

“You're lucky it's only me. There's slave catchers about.”

“Yes, I know. The Starks were at my house and tore it apart.”

“That'd be who I'd bet on.”

“They found nothing, of course. I don't know who they were looking for.”

“A contraband what kilt her mistress, and Starks ain't the only ones out looking. Plenty of men are after that reward.”

“How dreadful,” Eliza said. “My children will be worried, so I'll be on my way. Give my best to Mrs. Wymer.”

“I'd see you to home, but she's ill herself, and I've went to the doctor to get her a tonic. She's waiting for me.”

“Then you'd better hurry along. I shall be fine. I have my buggy whip and know how to use it,” Eliza said.

“I don't like to leave a lady alone.”

“I should not like to delay you when your wife needs you—more than I do.”

“There's that.”

“Good evening, Mr. Wymer. Tell your wife I shall call with a custard.”

“Oh, she'd like that.”

Eliza assured him again that she would be all right, and she slapped the reins against Sabra's back and pulled onto the road. And then because she knew Hoyt Wymer was watching her, she turned toward home instead of the Eagles house. She drove until the road turned and she was no longer visible, then pulled to a stop. If the man followed her, she would say the top had slipped and she had stopped to right it. She didn't hear his wagon start up, and that bothered her. She'd also noticed how he'd peered into the buggy as if looking for someone hidden there. Clara would be frightened, left alone in the dark, wondering if Eliza had abandoned her, but it was better to be safe. Eliza would wait until she was sure the farmer was gone. The wind came up and shook the buggy, and Eliza huddled against the seat, thinking if Will were there, he would have taken Clara to Mercy's farm. He would have known how to deal with Hoyt Wymer.

After twenty minutes or so, she heard the creak of a wagon, clear at first, then fainter as it disappeared in the opposite direction. She waited even longer, and then she turned the buggy and went back to the grove.

“Clara,” she called softly. “It's Mrs. Spooner. I'm alone.”

She did not hear a ruffling in the trees or the sound of footsteps, but in a minute, Clara was beside the buggy. “I hope you didn't fear I'd abandoned you,” Eliza said.

Clara didn't reply. Instead, she said, “That man come over here, walked instead of drove, maybe thinking I wouldn't hear him, and he stay a long time. He call to me, say he come to fetch me to safety, but I know he ain't, and I don't say nothing. He fall in the ditch and get hisself wet, but he don't see me. I hide good.” Clara climbed into the buggy and then smiled at Eliza. “He say, ‘Damn-fool woman driving in the dark, too purely stupid to hide a yellow dog. Who'd trust her with a slave?'”

The two of them laughed, and Eliza started for the road. “We are going to Mrs. Mercy Eagles's house. You will be safe there, because she has made it known she is not against slavery.”

Clara sat up and peered at Eliza in the dark. “Ain't she likely to turn me in to those mens?”

“No, I believe when I tell her your story, she will be as sympathetic as Mr. Ritter and Mr. Hamlin.”

Clara stared out into the darkness. “I won't be catched.”

“You will be safe. Mrs. Eagles is a good woman.”

Clara considered that, but she did not seem persuaded. She moved to the edge of the buggy, as if ready to jump out, and it was clear that she would run if she thought she might be captured. Eliza patted Clara's knee and assured her again that Mercy Eagles was as harmless as a dove.

They pulled the buggy into the Eagles farm, and left it hidden behind the barn. Eliza was glad to see that despite the late hour, a light shone through the kitchen window, which meant that Mercy was up. She would not have to pound on the door, waking her friend. Eliza could see Mercy sitting at the table, knitting, and went close to the window and called, “Mercy, it's Eliza Spooner.”

Mercy jerked up her head as she looked toward the window, and Eliza was sorry she had startled the woman. She thought how frightened Mercy would be alone with two children, and hearing a voice in the night. “It's Eliza Spooner, come on an errand of great importance. Please let me in.”

Mercy rose and went to the door, unlatching it. “Eliza, you gave me a fright. What are you doing out in the middle of the night and in all this rain, too?”

“The girls…?”

“Are asleep.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” Mercy opened the door, then stared in shock as Clara followed Eliza into the house. Eliza went to the kerosene lamp and blew it out. “What is going on?” Mercy demanded. “And who is this creature?”

“She is an escaped slave, and I want you to hide her for a day or so.”

Mercy put her hand to her chest, her knitting needles thrust upward to her chin, and took a step backward. “Eliza, what are you asking? I'll do no such thing.”

“Yes, I believe you will, Mercy, because you are of good character. I would not ask, if Clara's life didn't depend on it. We hid her at our place, but the Starks came today and turned the house and all the outbuildings upside down. It was a miracle she wasn't found. Mother Stark warned us they will be back early in the morning. Clara has been unwell.” Eliza thought to ask the slave to show her back to Mercy but would not humiliate her, so said only, “She has been beaten almost to death, the skin flailed off her back. I have never seen such savagery. Her son, a boy not much older than Baby Nance, was whipped to death, and she is accused of killing the person who did the beastly act.” Eliza thought it best not to mention that the person was a woman. She explained that John Hamlin had made plans to transport Clara to Colorado, but that the woman had been delirious and unable to travel. She was better now and could continue her journey soon.

“But you know I have never been sympathetic to the cause.”

“Yes, that is why your farm is the best place to hide Clara. No one would suspect you.”

Mercy thought that over, then shook her head. The children would see her, she protested, but Eliza said Clara could be hidden in the barn for a day. Mercy told Eliza to take Clara to Ettie, whose abolitionist views were well-known. Eliza replied she couldn't, because that was an obvious place to look. In fact, the Starks had already talked about searching the Espy farm.

“Then take her to the sheriff.”

“I believe he is proslavery. I'd sooner take her back to my place.”

“I can't. I just can't, Eliza. Nathaniel would be furious,” Mercy said.

Eliza resisted the impulse to state the obvious, that Nathaniel was dead.

Mercy looked away. “Slavery isn't my fight. I know you think I am wrong, but I'm not an abolitionist. I don't want to be a hero the way Ettie does. I have already given my husband to the war and want no further part of it. Surely you of all people would understand that. I wish the woman well, Eliza, but I can't do as you ask.”

Eliza took her friend's hands and waited, while Mercy looked at Clara, then around the room, and finally into Eliza's face. “This is not about slavery, Mercy. It is about a woman, a woman who has been beaten, whose child was murdered. If Clara is captured, she will be smuggled back down South and hanged or maybe consigned to one of those cages that they hang from a tree. I read about them in an abolitionist newspaper. Men will strip her naked and put her into the cage to starve to death, if she doesn't go mad and kill herself first. It is not enough to wish her well. I didn't want to be involved, either, but I didn't have a choice. You don't, either. We are Christian women called upon to do our duty. We must sacrifice as our husbands have. We dishonor them by doing nothing. I believe it will go hard on you for the rest of your life if you refuse Clara. You would not forgive yourself.” Then she pleaded, “If nothing else, will you hide her as a favor to me?”

Mercy took a deep breath. Eliza had always thought her a silly thing, but Mercy surprised her as she stood a little straighter and looked Eliza full in the face. “You are right, Eliza. We must accept what we are called upon to do, just as Nathaniel and Will did. I may not agree with you about slavery, but I will not turn away this woman. She can sleep with Mary Ann.” She turned to Clara and said slowly and in a louder voice, as if Clara were deaf, “Mary Ann is twelve.”

“No need,” Eliza told her. “Clara is safer outside the house, and so are you. It is best the children don't know about Clara at all for fear they might say something. Besides, it is not likely, but if someone should come here and find Clara, you can say you were not aware of her presence.”

Mercy nodded and offered to fetch a quilt, since the one Clara had was wet, and then the three women walked to the barn in the dark, for they did not want to risk a light. Mercy explained there was a small storeroom behind the hay, where Clara would be safe. Nathaniel had built the hiding place in case Indians came onto the farm, although they never did. After Clara was inside, she and Eliza could pitch hay in front of the door so that no one would know it was there. Eliza asked Clara if she understood, and when Clara nodded, Eliza told her John Hamlin would return the following day.

“The Reverend Hamlin,” Mercy said. “So that was what he was doing on your farm the day of the quilting bee. I should have guessed, since I have heard he hid slaves before the war.” She led Clara to the little room, no bigger than a wardrobe. It held a broken chair and a trunk whose hinges were dark with rust. “Nathaniel's mother's trunk. She kept her sewing in it,” Mercy explained. She forked hay onto the floor to make a bed for Clara. Eliza started to close the door, but Mercy told her to wait. “If Clara is to be here a day or more, she will need something to eat.” She hurried back to the house and returned with a loaf of bread, a bowl of cooked potatoes, two boiled eggs, and a jug of water. “I do not dare bring you a candle, for if you caught the hay on fire, you would burn to death. There is no way you could push open the door from the inside. Besides, someone might see the light through the cracks. But in the morning, you will see that daylight comes in, so you will not spend all your time in darkness.”