Where Grace Abides (22 page)

 
27
 
Q
UESTIONS AND
A
NSWERS

I hear that Queen Victoria says
If we will all forsake our land of chains and slavery
And come across the lake,
She will be standing on the shore
With arms extended wide.

F
ROM AN
A
BOLITIONIST
B
ALLAD

G
ideon was becoming so accustomed to this night travel by now that he scarcely felt the need of sleep before dawn. He half suspected that Asa sometimes wished he
would
grow drowsy so he wouldn't ply him with so many questions.

Still, the older man was usually nice as could be, replying as he chose, fixing a level look on Gideon if he deemed a particular question either not worth an answer or outside of some sort of boundary set by Asa himself.

For his part Gideon was learning where to venture and where not to go. He had discovered, for example, that Asa wasn't keen on providing information of a personal nature. Even though they'd been on the road together for more than three weeks now, he knew no more about Asa's life as a slave than he had when they left Riverhaven. That was all right, though. Gideon thought it likely that if
he
had lived the life of a slave, he wouldn't relish talking about it either.

He found it frustrating, though, that it was almost as difficult to pry information out of the other regarding the Underground Railroad as anything personal. Earlier tonight, for example, Asa had started to shut him down pretty hard when Gideon asked about the “stations” in and around southern Ohio.

“There's more than a few, not as many as needed,” had been Asa's vague reply.

Gideon had been a little piqued with the man's shortness, especially considering that here he was taking a few risks of his own—according to Asa and Gant, anyhow—to help with the mysterious goings-on of the Railroad.

When a second attempt to extract information also failed, Gideon withdrew into a silence of his own making. After an hour or so of this, however, he was beginning to feel like an ill-tempered schoolboy and decided to apologize.

“Sorry for being so nosy, Asa,” he said. “Seems I don't always know when to quit with the questions.”

He saw a small twitch at the corner of Asa's mouth and recognized it as a sign that the other wasn't really all that annoyed with him.

“What's all this interest in runaway slaves, young Gideon? I do believe you're the most curious boy I've ever met. Seems you have a question for just about everything.”

Gideon grinned. “Not everything. But since I'm involved now in this Underground Railroad doings, I
would
like to know as much as I can about it.”

Asa turned and regarded him with a curious look of his own, as if considering Gideon's words. “I suppose I can understand that,” he finally said. “But here's the thing—the more you know about how things work, the more danger you're in. Not telling you anything other than what you absolutely need to know is a way of protecting you.”

Gideon chafed at the inference that he needed protection. “I'm not a boy to be coddled, Asa. I'm no longer a child, though you
and the captain seem to think I need to be treated like one. And I'm not asking you to fill me in on all the secrets you and Captain Gant are privy to. But when I told you I wanted to help, I didn't mean just this one trip, don't you see? I meant doing something over the long haul.” He paused. “I just want to know how things work, is all. Nothing you don't feel comfortable telling me.”

Again Asa turned to study him. After a long moment, he drew a breath and nodded. “All right. I suppose if you're going to take such risks, then you have a right to know something more of what you're getting into. But you need to understand, the Railroad isn't some kind of organized, fixed system. It's always changing, sometimes so often that even some of us who have worked in it for years can't keep up with the changes.

“Basically it's just an operation spread over many states to help runaway slaves get to freedom, preferably to Canada—but at least as far north as possible.”

“Why Canada?”

“It's safer. A black man can live free in one of the northern states for years, but if a slave hunter comes upon him and captures him, he can still be sent back to his owner. Canada's laws are different from ours. I believe we will see the day when all the states are truly ‘free states,' but for now freedom isn't really guaranteed in most places, not even in the North. In Canada the law protects a freed slave. But even here in Ohio, the law works against him.”

Eager to learn and fascinated by the tale Asa told in his deep, resonant voice, Gideon listened, seldom interrupting unless it was to clarify something too difficult to grasp at first hearing.

“You have to understand that a slave is not generally viewed by his owner as a
person,
” Asa said. “A slave is
property.
Bought and paid for, owned and managed by the one who bought him. In the owner's way of thinking, he can treat that slave well or mistreat him, work him to death or sell him. He owns him completely, body and soul—if he happens to believe a slave actually
has
a soul.
He can kill him at will, though that's an expense and not a good investment of his money, so he's usually reluctant to do away with a ‘good' slave.

“A slave has no education—it's against the law to teach a slave to read. He has no money, no law but white man's law, and no rights whatsoever, even where his own family is concerned.

“Time after time a slave's family members are sold without warning, and if he protests, he can be beaten for raising his voice to his ‘master.' He can own nothing, go nowhere, can't even acquire a skill unless his master approves it. To his owner he's a beast of burden and little more.”

Asa glanced quickly left and right, scanning their surroundings long enough to interrupt the flow of his account. When he again set his gaze straight ahead on the road, Gideon could almost feel the heaviness in the man's heart. He realized in that moment that Asa was giving him, indirectly, a painfully clear picture of what his own life as a slave must have been like.

“You can see, then, how difficult—how
impossible
—it is for a slave to escape to freedom without help,” Asa went on. “Much of this help comes from the white man: abolitionists, preachers, farmers, merchants, doctors, teachers, housewives. But other blacks are also deeply involved in the work. All kinds of folks in all different places risk jail and even their own lives to help runaways succeed in their escape.

“Through the years routes to the North have become well-traveled. Safe places—‘stations'—where good folks—‘stationmasters'—are willing to provide shelter and provisions to the runaways dot the route. Others like myself—I'm called a ‘conductor'—make it their business to transport them and give them what protection they can. I suppose it was only natural that the name ‘Underground Railroad' and other railroad words sprang up because at the same time the
Underground
Railroad was being established, the
actual
railroads were being built across the country—and because of the secrecy
of the operations the name ‘underground' and ‘railroad' and other railroad words came about.

“Lately there's been concern that some of those railroad terms are being bandied about too freely, that there's too much talk now about how things work, that some folks involved might be speaking out too much about the Railroad and their part in it. That not only endangers them and the slaves being transported to the North, but it also threatens the slaves still in bondage. Their owners have heard about all the successful escapes, and so they're becoming more careful and taking extra steps to stop those escapes.”

He glanced at Gideon. “The more active the Railroad becomes, the more the need for secrecy increases, not only for the protection of the folks involved in the Railroad itself, but also for the slaves waiting for their chance to run. That's why Captain Gant is so strict about us keeping our silence.”

Again he scanned both sides of the road and strained a little to look ahead.

“Where does the money come from for all this, Asa?” Gideon asked. “Sounds like an awful big operation.”

“It's big all right and getting bigger,” Asa replied. “And though it's always in a state of change, it's not without some organization. The funding may seem haphazard, but so far it's been enough. Lots of people donate to the cause. You'd be surprised at the sacrifices some folks are willing to make to help. Stationmasters are used to providing food and clothing with little or no warning, and I've seen good Christian women take blankets off their own beds and clothes out of their closets to keep some runaways warm in the winter.”

When he turned to Gideon this time, Asa's dark eyes glowed with a compelling light. “God uses people who are
willing
to be used, young Gideon. We don't have to be saints or without fault. We just have to be available.” He stopped. “Like yourself. You made yourself available to be used for God's work—and here you are.”

Gideon hadn't thought about it that way. Truth be known, he
hadn't thought about it much one way or the other. He did detest the idea of slavery, and he did want to do something that had purpose—something with meaning. But he sure hadn't thought about being used by
God.

He decided maybe he
should
think about it.

They had no more than another hour or so until dawn. Although some days they traveled short distances after daylight, Asa had warned that wouldn't be the case this morning. They were nearing a stretch of road near Canton, which was notorious for slave catchers, and so they would need to hide in a heavily wooded area until nightfall.

Gideon was driving, and Asa seemed to be dozing when something suddenly spooked the horses. Mac had been asleep in the trough behind the driver's bench but now came alert and started a low growl that threatened to grow louder until Gideon shushed him. Asa jerked wide awake and shot upright when one of the horses whinnied and pulled left. In the back of the canvas-covered wagon, a child whimpered and a man coughed.

Without warning a bearded man dressed in a hat and fine clothes stepped out of the trees and onto the road just ahead. Gideon hauled on the reins to bring the horses to a stop.

Mac again gave a threatening growl, and again Gideon silenced him. “Who's this?” he said under his breath to Asa, who shook his head.

“No idea.”

The man raised a hand. “I'm a friend,” he said, his voice so low Gideon could barely make out his words. “You're in danger! There's no time to explain. Pull your wagon over here, into the woods.” He gestured toward the dense trees that flanked the road on the right.

“Go deep. Get completely out of sight! I'll show you where. Slave hunters are swarming all over the place! Get your people out of the wagon as quickly as possible,” he urged, sounding slightly out of breath. “One of you take some of them with you. The other take the rest. Hide yourselves in separate places, not all together. I'll take care of your wagon. When it's safe, I'll come back for you. Don't move. Don't leave your hiding place until I come back. Go now—you
must
hurry!”