The Quaker and the Rebel (33 page)

She knew instinctively what this meant and shuddered. After what she just learned, she needed time to sort things out. “It must
be tonight?” Emily wondered how much this child knew about her involvement in the Underground Railroad.

He nodded. “What say you? I got to get back to my ma. She’s delivering honey to Miz Beatrice.” The branch creaked again under his weight.

She knew there was no time to question him further. “Tell your mama I will come.”

The child climbed down and disappeared into the cool subterranean kitchen. Emily stood for several moments pondering her course of action.
I must find Lila. She will know what to do
.

Unfortunately, she didn’t. Lila wasn’t eager to give advice that could put Emily in danger. Lila had heard that a pregnant runaway was hidden in the Thompson root cellar, which was sixty miles from the Pennsylvania state line. The woman had left a master who spent his days in an alcoholic haze after his wife and children died from cholera last spring. The rest of the slaves had already run off, but her pregnancy had prevented her from joining them. Now the master vented his rage on the few slaves left on the dilapidated plantation. She had no choice but to leave to protect the life of her unborn child. Lila’s heart ached for the woman, but her heart these days belonged to William. And he was very much against Lila helping on the Underground Railroad. The authorities would treat a free black woman harsher than a white Yankee if she were caught. To her relief, William watched her comings and goings like a hawk since the unfortunate encounter with Nathan Smith.

“What are you going to do?” asked Lila as the two women walked toward the Shenandoah River in the cool breeze of late afternoon.

“I must go and help her.” Emily answered without much enthusiasm. “The woman wishes to give birth where her child will be born free. We won’t let her get caught and returned to a cruel master after she’s come this far. I’ll slip out tonight and take her to the Potomac, where she can cross into Maryland. She’ll be that much closer to Pennsylvania.” Details popped into her mind, one by one. “But I can’t think of a reason to pay a social call in Upperville. It’s too close to Federal lines. The Hunts would never let me go.”

Alexander…would he still profess his love if he knew what I was up to?

“If you’re going then I am too.” Lila spoke with determination.

“No, you’re not.” Emily’s tone brooked no discussion. “I’ll ride to the Thompson farm with an extra horse and one of your dresses for the runaway. We’ll have to reach the crossing by dawn. If we’re stopped, I’ll say she’s my maid and we’re fetching the doctor for Mrs. Thompson. How could I explain having two maids along? Then I’ll ride back here and pray I’m not seen returning at that hour—with an extra horse, no less.” The plan, for whatever it was worth, knitted together while they walked in fading sunlight.

“Leave the horses in the brooding shed. I’ll have Jack fetch them back to the main barn later. And I’ll take care of distracting the family with a little help from William.”

“Thank you.” Emily wrapped her arms around Lila’s shoulders. “Say a prayer for the runaway—and another for me.”

Lila hugged her long and hard. “I’ll be saying more than one. You can count on that.”

Emily ate dinner with the Hunts and Benningtons that evening as usual. Alexander was absent. For this small grace, she was grateful. Considering their breakfast conversation, his parents knew nothing about Alexander’s late night activities. And with her mission to rescue a pregnant runaway ahead of her, Emily was afraid to speak in fear of revealing one of her many secrets.
“What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.”
One of her mother’s pet expressions ran through her mind over and over. What hope did their love have when lives were built on lies and deception? With a heart heavy with shame, Emily tried to focus on the dinner conversation.

“They say a vote will be taken soon in the Virginia legislature,” said Mr. Hunt, greatly agitated. “Many of the western counties want nothing more to do with this war or the Confederacy. If presented with no alternative, they will leave the Commonwealth of Virginia.”

“Perhaps it’s only the ravings of a few hotheads,” said his wife in a soothing tone. “Cooler, more rational minds may prevail, and Virginia will remain intact.”

Mrs. Bennington shook her head. “I’m not so sure, Rebecca. I remember the sentiments of our former neighbors in Parkersburg. This powder keg has been simmering for a long time.”

“You can’t expect people to fight and die for slavery when little of it exists west of the Shenandoah Mountains.” Dr. Bennington scraped his hands down his face.

The young governess paid little attention to their politics as she pushed food around her plate.

“My dear, is something wrong with your dinner? Or have we upset you with our conversation?” Mrs. Hunt asked as she turned a concerned face in Emily’s direction.

“Neither, ma’am, but I have little appetite. I’ve been nursing a headache all day. If you don’t mind, I will retire to my room.” She pushed back her chair.

“Of course. I’ll have Lila send up a tea of white willow bark.” Mrs. Bennington patted her arm as Emily walked past her.

Along with the tea, Lila delivered a parcel of food from the kitchen and one of her loosest frocks before she vanished back down to the kitchen. There was nothing left for Emily to do but wait. Wait and worry. And think about Alexander. Were they so different? He fed, clothed, and cared for Southern soldiers. Would he understand her need to lessen the suffering of runaway slaves?

Finally, the house grew silent as darkness fell. The sisters were most likely doing needlework by the parlor fire, while their husbands continued their debate regarding Virginia over brandy in the study. Most of the workers, both slave and free, had completed their tasks and were enjoying dinner in the kitchen downstairs or in cabins out back. Emily dressed in dark colors and then plaited her hair into a long braid before tucking it beneath a riding hat. Creeping from the house, she had no trouble reaching the barn unseen. She tied the cloth bag of food and the extra dress to the saddle horn, along with the reins of the other mare, and mounted Miss Kitty. She avoided a sidesaddle because she would have to ride hard and fast to reach Upperville in a little over two hours. With the moon to light her way and the sounds
of crickets and peepers to comfort her country ears, the ride exhilarated Emily.

She arrived at the Thompson farm just after ten o’clock, thankful for the smoothness of the journey thus far. This was a safe house in the Underground Railroad—kind people dedicated to helping slaves find their way to freedom. But the sight of three Thoroughbreds tied to the hitching post nearly stopped Emily’s heart. The saddles bore the insignia of the U.S. cavalry. Emily hid Miss Kitty and the extra horse in the barn and knocked timidly on the kitchen door.

“Mrs. Thompson? It’s Miss Harrison,” she whispered with a queasy stomach.

“Come in, come in, Miss Harrison. I’m just having a cup of coffee.” The woman held the door wide. “My husband has guests in the parlor—three Federal officers.” She added with great pride. “Those are their horses tied outside.” She conveyed this information without a moment’s hesitation. After all, Emily was not only a Yankee but a conductor on the Underground Railroad. Surely, she could be trusted.

The serenity Emily had experienced during the ride vanished. She hadn’t given the Thompsons much thought—they were simply antislavery Christians who helped runaways reach the North. The realization that they were also Union sympathizers, actively assisting the Federal Army camped nearby, hit her like a bolt of lightning. It was one thing to help a pregnant runaway escape slavery, but quite another to be in a house of informants. As she sipped coffee in Mrs. Thompson’s comfortable kitchen, she was shamed by the love and trust received from the Benningtons and Hunts. When her thoughts turned to Alexander, a deep flush crept up her neck.
Just exactly who am I?
But as she stared into the grounds at the bottom of her cup, no easy answer came.

“Are you a Quaker, Miss Harrison?” asked Mrs. Thompson, refilling their cups with fresh coffee.

“Yes, ma’am, I was—am.” Emily looked everywhere in the room but at her hostess’s face.

“We’re Methodists. I couldn’t abide no organ music or singing in
church like the Quakers, but you’re very brave to be doing this, miss, and at such a young age. You’ll get your just reward.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m quite certain of that, but I’m surprised there’s still such need after Mr. Lincoln’s proclamation.”

Mrs. Thompson clucked. “It doesn’t take effect till January. Besides, do you think those Georgia slavers are going to pay much attention?”

Emily shook off a frisson of anxiety. She couldn’t keep from glancing toward the parlor. Two Union officers paced back and forth, while a third sat with Mr. Thompson before the hearth.

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll not trouble you any. The officers are here to discuss important matters with Mr. Thompson.”

Emily grew more uncomfortable by the minute. She felt like a traitor. How was that possible? She was a Unionist to the core who hated the institution of slavery, despite who she’d fallen in love with. “I brought along an extra dress,” she said, rousing herself to task. Emily drew Lila’s gown from her bag.

The hospitable Mrs. Thompson set a plate of cakes in front of her. “Take a moment to refresh yourself, my dear. You still have quite a night ahead of you. I’ll get our refugee prepared to go.” She picked up the dress and headed for the door.

Emily breathed a sigh of relief when the woman disappeared, leaving her alone. The strains of male voices wafted from the parlor. It wouldn’t hurt to listen for a minute.
After all, I am a Yankee, aren’t I?
She crept silently to the doorway.

“We won’t have to worry about him much longer.” The words of one soldier drifted through as she hid by the doorjamb.

“Is that right? He’s been cutting up this county and others around it for the entire war. What makes you think you can catch him now?” The booming voice came from a burly man identified by his wife as her host. Mr. Thompson was middle-aged, stoop-shouldered, and balding. Emily took an immediate, illogical dislike to him.

“It appears he made an enemy,” said a mustached officer, leaning back in his chair. “Apparently, he discharged several rangers for filling
their pockets with plunder instead of turning it over to the Confederacy. The Gray Wraith is a man of strong principle,” he added sarcastically. The other two broke into peals of laughter.

“I fail to see the humor,” said Mr. Thompson.

“One of the men discharged turned up at General Meade’s headquarters. He’d ridden with the Wraith from the start.” The officer paused, grinning at the others. “For a small price he described the man’s hideouts and habits. This mysterious Wraith keeps to himself and has few vices, but he enjoys a once-a-month poker game at the home of Thaddeus Marshall in Middleburg. We’ve had our eye on that town for some time. Those citizens are very loyal to the Cause. They would lie to the Maker himself to save the rangers. Apparently, Mr. Marshall is the Wraith’s uncle and, from what we can gather, Marshall only has one nephew—Mr. Alexander Hunt of Hunt Farms, Front Royal.”

“That’s not possible.” Thompson shook his head like an ornery mule. “That family is the richest in the area. Why would the son of an aristocrat like James Hunt involve himself with pillaging? You think this former ranger can be trusted?”

Emily’s heart pounded so hard she feared it would be overheard.

“Yes, we believe he’s telling the truth. These blue-blooded aristocrats have a barrelful of
honor
.” He spat the word as though something shameful. “We’ll keep the man in the stockade pending the outcome. He’ll be paid one way or the other depending on the reliability of his information. He was mad as a wet hen when they locked him up.” The other officers stopped pacing long enough to refill their glasses at the sideboard.

“So we have it on good authority the Gray Wraith will be in Middleburg tomorrow night.” The officer finished off his own drink. “He won’t slip away again. Once he’s captured, the raiding of our trains and wagons in the area will cease. If we can stop him from supplying the Rebel Army, we can end this war that much sooner.”

Tomorrow. The word turned Emily’s entire world upside down. Alexander did have an uncle living in Middleburg. She’d heard him joking with his father how Uncle Thad could bluff at poker better than
a riverboat charlatan. With the Yankee cavalry waiting for him, Alexander would be walking into a trap. She stood with her head on the doorjamb, unable to move for several moments. Then she shook off her paralysis and left the warm kitchen.

Moments later, she located Mrs. Thompson and introduced herself to the frightened, pregnant slave anxious to be out of Virginia. Wearing Lila’s dress, the woman climbed onto the horse. Emily mounted Miss Kitty and then accepted a bag of provisions from Mrs. Thompson. If anyone told her a month ago she would feel anger toward a fellow member of the Underground Railroad, she never would have believed it. But Emily had no time to mull over her change in attitude. She had to deliver this woman safely into the hands of the next conductor and get herself back to Front Royal.

And pray that she wouldn’t be too late to warn Alexander.