Yellow Crocus (20 page)

Wedged into their own corner, Mattie clutched Jordan close, silently watching the drama.

Food appeared at irregular intervals, as did other escapees. No words were passed among any of the strangers. On the third night, the cellar dwellers continued on their journey to the next safe house. They stayed there for only one day before they moved on to the next station. Weeks passed with the group traveling most nights and hiding during the day in a cellar, basement, or attic. Each night Mattie closed her prayers with a request that the old woman sleep through the night. Occasionally God answered “yes.”

One night, while they were being transported by wagon, the driver woke his passengers. They quickly came to attention, ready to take flight if necessary. As they rolled along the driver pointed, “Up ahead. It’s the Ohio River. You cross and you in a free state.”

They stared ahead, barely making out the dark snake of river in the black night. When they pulled up to the water’s edge, Mattie could not believe its size. She had never seen such a river before. It was wide and foreboding, ready to swallow them up.

The driver called out, and a man dragged a small boat from the bushes by the water. They climbed down from the wagon and were organized into groups for the crossing. Mattie and Jordan were assigned to go first. Shivering with equal parts fear and excitement, Mattie eyed the vessel that would take her to the other side. As she stepped in, the boat rocked, knocking her off balance. Stumbling, she nearly dropped Jordan into the churning water. She sat frozen on the wooden bench with Jordan clutched tight. Not daring to look, she closed her eyes to the world and prayed.

“Bring us to the other side. Bring us to the other side. Dear God, deliver us safely to the other side. Thank you, God, for delivering us to the other side. Please don’t let there be no hunters. Jus’ get us over to the other side.”

Once they reached the Ohio shore, Mattie thanked God for their safe arrival. Huddled on the free side, Mattie sat and watched as others made the nearly half-mile crossing. She prayed that God would get everyone else across as well. Two by two they climbed into the boat, leaving a shrinking group behind.

Near the end of the long night she saw the two final freedom seekers on the Virginia side of the river startle and run toward the forest. Mattie’s mouth went dry and her palms went moist as adrenaline coursed through her body. She grabbed Jordan and made to run away from the river. Then she saw a large deer across the river. There were no bounty hunters, just tight nerves.

Collapsing back down to earth, she worked to steady her heart with a deep breath. She offered Jordan her breast and whispered to her daughter, “We free now. Honey, we free.” She thought the air would feel different in freedom land, but it didn’t. It was still hard to breathe.

Before sunrise a cart came for the group on the free side of the river and carried them northward. Soon Mattie and Jordan separated from the rest of the group. Since Congress had passed the Fugitive Slave Act in September 1850, few escaped slaves risked staying in the United States. The law was clear: free states had to return escaped slaves to their masters and punish those who aided or sheltered runaways. All those traveling with Mattie traveled on to Canada. But Mattie and Jordan turned west to join their family in Oberlin, Ohio. They had made it. After six exhausting weeks of traveling nearly five hundred miles they were nearly there.

Yet another stranger brought Mattie and Jordan to a small lean-to just ten miles from their new home. They were left alone to wait. This was their last day of hiding. Tonight they would be picked up and brought to Samuel and Emmanuel.

The dwelling could not even be called a cabin. From the footprints in the dust, Mattie knew it had recently been used— probably for the same purpose. She rested on the bare floor, leaning again the wall with nothing to do but wait. Jordan wandered around the empty room looking for something of interest.

Toddling over to Mattie, she proudly held out a treasure she had found in the corner: a decomposing mouse. Mattie slapped it out of Jordan’s hand, exclaiming, “That dirty!” With a sigh, Mattie dragged herself upright to take a closer look around the room. She found no other dead rodents or anything else warranting removal. After kicking the mouse outside, Mattie sat back down on the floor to resume her wait.

A few hours passed before Mattie ate a little of the dried meat she had been left with. Getting used to small rations had been difficult, but after weeks on the road Mattie’s stomach had shrunk to nearly nothing. She hardly ate more than a few bites at a time. She and Jordan had both become so thin that their eyes sunk into their sockets, and they had little energy. Fortunately it didn’t take much energy to wait.

On the second day they ran out of the food the driver had given them, and halfway through the third day their meager rations of water were gone. She looked for a source of water or food, but found nothing around the cabin.

Hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, Mattie pondered her options. If no one came, they would die of thirst in a few days. They had little choice but to travel west on their own. She could not gamble away her last bit of energy hoping someone would show.

Exhausted and desperate, she tied Jordan to her back and stumbled out of the cabin into the still dark morning. She trudged along in the forest of beech and elm trees, parallel to the road but out of sight. It was early enough in the day that dew still coated the leaves. Mattie licked the little bit of moisture off the plants, but it did nothing to quench her parched throat.

She traveled on and on through the hot, sticky morning, praying with each step that she would find a stream until her mouth became too dry to open. She journeyed farther and farther, hoping she was reading the sun right and heading in the right direction—toward her son and her husband, toward a town in the midst of this endless forest, toward some water.

When she stopped to rest and offer Jordan her breast, she discovered that her milk was dried up. Mattie had nothing to offer her daughter. She tied Jordan to her back with a ragged, dirty cloth and journeyed on. The little girl hung there listlessly, making no complaints or demands. Normally this would have been terrifying, but Mattie was grateful for the quiet. She continued on, forced to cut out to the road occasionally when the forest became too dense to pass through.

On one of these forays, Mattie heard the sound of running water on the other side of the road. As quickly as her body would allow, she stumbled to the sound. Water! A small stream cut close to the road from the north. With Jordan still tied to her back, Mattie collapsed to the ground on the bank of the stream and dropped her mouth into the water. Sucking the cool liquid past her cracked and bleeding lips, Mattie drank and drank and drank, forcing herself to stop when her stomach lurched in protest. Then she untied Jordan’s limp body and laid her gently on the earth. Filling their leather pouch with water, she brought it to Jordan’s lips and poured water into the unresponsive child’s mouth. The water dribbled out the sides of the girl’s mouth.

“Baby, you got to swallow this. Come on now, girl,” coaxed Mattie.

She dribbled water slowly into Jordan’s mouth, watching carefully to see if her daughter was swallowing. She did not. Mattie’s heart raced.

“Baby, you got to swallow!” begged Mattie.

But the water sat pooled in Jordan’s dry mouth. Mattie watched as the water level lowered. Drip by drip, Mattie continues to pour cool liquid into Jordan’s mouth, praying some of it, enough of it, would get down her small throat.

Eventually they both fell asleep on the damp earth by the stream in the midst of the forest, Mattie’s body curled protectively around Jordan.

Waking in the dark, Mattie pulled Jordan close. “Let see if the good stuff flowin’ again,” Mattie muttered as she checked to see if she had made any milk. A bit of white came to the surface when she squeezed her nipple.

Bringing her breast close to Jordan, she said, “Try this, baby girl. Maybe I got a bunch of the stuff you love.”

Mattie squirted a bit of precious white liquid into Jordan’s mouth. The girl swallowed the little bit of milk from her momma’s breast. Mattie expressed more past her daughter’s lips. That was swallowed too. Mattie pulled Jordan close, but Jordan did not latch on. She was too weak.

Instead Mattie spent more than an hour squeezing a thin stream of liquid into her daughter’s mouth and waiting patiently for Jordan to have the energy to swallow.

“Dear Lord, please let this milk be enough to keep my baby girl alive.”

In the morning Mattie woke suddenly and immediately checked on Jordan. She was weak, but still alive. She pulled Jordan close. This time the girl latched on.

After a good feed Mattie got ready to go again. As hard as it would be to leave this stream, staying here would not make Jordan better. They needed food and a warm place to rest. With a belly full of water and full pouch, Mattie and Jordan set out once again.

At first Mattie stayed in the forest passing under huge elms and beech trees, but soon she became too tired to make her way through the thick undergrowth. She was trudging down the long, straight road when she saw a horse pulling a wagon far in the distance. Mattie limped back into the forest and crouched behind a tree, waiting for the wagon to pass. But the wagon stopped a ways down the road.

“Whoo, whoo, whoo,” called the driver. Then the horse moved forward.

“Whoo, whoo, whoo,” called the driver again, and again the wagon moved forward.

Over and over the horse came forward, stopped, the driver called out, and then moved the wagon forward again.

Mattie crouched in the forest, hidden from view, straining to see while staying hidden. The call was the same signal she had listened for so many weeks ago in the forest in Virginia. But she did not expect it here in Ohio. This might be the missing driver. She wanted to see him before she showed herself. His looks were scant evidence to go by, but that was all she had.

When the wagon moved just past her, she leaned around the tree to get a better view. She could just make out the profile of the driver as he gazed into the forest. Two large coffee-colored hands held the reins. A straw hat with a low brim threw a shadow over the man’s face. She had to decide without a good look at his features. He might be the missing conductor, or it might be a trap. Some bounty hunters were negro.

The wagon drove on. A plaid work shirt covered the man’s broad back. A slight person sat next to him in the wagon. They were both searching the forest each time the wagon stopped. She watched as they moved down the road away from her. She only had moments to decide. The smaller figure turned his head, looking backwards. Mattie studied his profile.

“Oh, dear Lord. Thank you, Lord! Thank you!” Mattie cried out.

She stumbled out to the road. “Samuel!” her hoarse voice cracked out. “Emmanuel!”

They did not hear her.

She yelled again, but it came out as a whisper. Her throat was too dry. She collapsed on the ground. Grabbing for her water bag, she removed the stopper with shaking hands. The wagon was moving on. Quickly she drank some water, swallowing hard to coat her throat.

She took a deep breath, put all her energy in her throat, and yelled, “Emmanuel!”

The two figures turned at the sound of her voice.

“Momma!” exclaimed Samuel. He leapt off of the wagon and ran back to Mattie and Jordan.

“Oh, baby! Oh, baby!” Mattie cried in relief. “Thank you, Lord! Thank you!”

“Momma, Momma, we found you!” Samuel exclaimed.

Samuel fell into Mattie’s embrace right on the ground in the middle of the road. Emmanuel rushed up behind them. Kneeling on the ground he wrapped his arms around them all.

They sat in the middle of the road, hugging and laughing and crying. Jordan reached up to pat her mother’s head.

“Baby girl, you want to be part of this too,” Mattie declared.

Emmanuel helped Mattie untie Jordan from her back.

For the first time ever, Mattie held both of her children close. She hugged Samuel with her right arm and held Jordan tight in her left. Jordan pushed Samuel away from Mattie.

“Jordan, this your brother Samuel,” Mattie said gently. “And this here your daddy.”

Jordan stared at the two figures before her, moving her gaze between the two. Her bottom lip quivered a bit.

“It all right, honey,” Mattie assured her, hugging her close.