Path of Freedom (2 page)

The sound of a distant train whistle bellowed through the air. Smoke shot into the sky over the gray roof of the wooden train depot as they neared. A shiny black engine appeared beyond the building, hauling several linked train cars. They took off in an eastward direction. More steam unleashed its power, hissing and groaning against the wheels attempting to churn over the rails. The massive iron machine started out slow, but gained speed and momentum with each thrust.

They reached the side of the depot and rounded the corner of the building to the front entrance. Flora collided with a moving object and gasped, straightening her bonnet.

“Oh, dear, please excuse me,” a woman said.

Flora glanced up. Concerned green eyes met her gaze. Wisps of auburn hair framed the young woman's face beneath a white bonnet. Recognition gripped Flora's muddled brain as she took a moment to sort through her childhood memories for a name.

“Kimberly Coltrane?” Flora tilted her head and gulped, hoping she'd remembered correctly.

“Yes.” She blinked, and after a moment her eyes widened. “Flora and Irene Saferight?” Her mouth dropped open, and she covered it with a delicate hand. “How long has it been?”

“It seems like thee moved from Centre to New Garden four or five years ago,” Irene said. “Thee has turned into a beauty.”

Her rosy glow deepened and she looked down. While she wore a simple gray skirt and white blouse, Flora agreed that Kimberly could never be considered plain.

“What brings thee to Greensboro?” She glanced from Irene to Flora, arching an eyebrow.

“Shopping,” Irene said, holding out her new cloak.

“It's lovely,” Kimberly ran a gentle hand over the purple garment. “I wish I was in town to shop. I came with my father. He's inside buying a ticket for a business trip to Raleigh. Earlier I had to wait on him in the hardware store.” Her eyes brightened, almost like sparkling emeralds. “Guess who we ran into?”

Irene and Flora exchanged knowing glances.

“Would it happen to be Bruce Millikan?” Flora asked, trying not to show disdain in her expression or tone.

“Exactly!” She grinned, blinking in surprise. “He's changed so much. He's as tall as my father now. They discussed farming methods in the hardware store.”

“Indeed, we saw him in the general store.” Flora shifted in discomfort as Kimberly's expression transformed to a dreamy daze.

“Who would have ever guessed that Bruce Millikan would turn out to be so handsome?” Kimberly touched her hand to her chest. “He's such a gentleman and so attentive. I hope he meant it when he said I've grown into a sophisticated woman and he'd stop by and call on us when he's in town again.”

“He called thee sophisticated?” The question tumbled from Flora's tongue before she could hold it back. Disappointment stabbed her anew, twisting her heart.

“Yes.” Kimberly folded her arms as if hugging herself and her smile widened. “Father seems to be impressed by him as well. He's talked of nothing else since.”

Rare jealousy sparked a flame in Flora's wounded heart. She had always wondered if Bruce Millikan was incapable of tenderness and pleasant gallantry. Now she had proof. He was more than capable—just not with her. The realization brought anger and then a fresh wave of bitterness.

Bruce rode past fields of tobacco and rows of tall corn until, by early afternoon, the two-story gray house came into view.

His mother came out onto the porch, shielding her brown eyes from the sun. Her plump form was a welcome sight as she pulled her tan shawl tight around her and patted the silver bun on the crown of her head.

“Looks like thee brought the whole store back from town,” her soft voice teased. She hurried down the porch steps toward the wagon and peered over the side.

“Just half of it.” Bruce winked, giving her a grin as he jumped down. When she smiled back, a ring of wrinkles encased her loving eyes, reminding him of how much she had aged in the last two years.

With two older sons and a daughter grown and married, his parents were now sixty. Only Bruce and Silas, his younger brother, remained on the farm.

“I ran into Pastor John while I was in town. He asked me over for supper. Said he needed to discuss something with me.” Bruce laid a hand on his mother's shoulder. “So don't make a plate for me this evening.” He kissed her cheek.

“I hope he doesn't have another mission for thee so soon. Son, I believe in the work thee does for the Underground Railroad, but after so many months of traveling, thee needs a break. Can he not find someone else this time?” His mother wrung her hands as she followed him to the back of the wagon, where he unhitched the latch and pulled down the gate.

“I'm not sure, but I'll be fine, Mother. Thee knows if I don't go, Father will. He's content to let me take his place, but he won't stand by and let the Millikans miss out on what he thinks is an opportunity to save a life.”

“It's so dangerous!”

“Which is why Father should stay here. He can't handle the outdoor elements and the vigorous running and climbing over the mountains like he once did.”

“Holly!” His father rode his horse in a canter toward them.

Bruce and his mother walked to meet him where he had slowed to a stop. With the sun casting him in a silhouette from behind, his gray whiskers and sideburns looked white rather than gray beneath his black hat.

“Some of the cows escaped.” He took a deep breath. “Part of the fence must have been weak.”

“I'll help thee round them up,” Bruce offered.

“Thee can help after unloading.” His father nodded toward the wagon. “Where's Silas?”

“He was in the barn working on that harvest machine that Bruce made a while back,” Mother said. “Can't get it to work right.”

“I'll need his help. He can work on that later.” Father started to pull away, but she reached up and laid a hand on his arm.

“Eli, Bruce has another meeting with the pastor this evening.”

His father paused, and his hazel eyes met Bruce's. “Do I need to be there?”

“He didn't mention it,” Bruce said.

“Well, all right, then. Let us know if it's another mission.” His father rode away.

“I wish thee didn't have to go.” His mother sighed, watching her husband ride toward the barn.

“It may not even be about a new mission. Pastor John may only want a report on the last mission to Indiana.”

She grabbed his arm and smiled with relief. “Thee is right. I hadn't even thought of that. Perhaps that's all it is.”

B
ruce pulled up behind another wagon in front of Pastor John's small one-story house. Who else could he have invited? After a busy afternoon of putting away supplies and helping his brother round up cattle that had escaped through the broken fence, he was glad he'd had the foresight to bathe and dress in some decent, clean clothes. While he believed in the Quaker ways of dressing plain, he also believed in cleanliness and being presentable, especially in mixed company.

He set the brake and glanced up at the waning sun casting its pinkish glow across the evening sky. Crickets sang from nearby bushes. Fireflies glowed with blinking yellow lights.

Jumping to his feet, John's black Lab barked from the front porch. Bruce grinned at Shadow's tail wagging in excitement. Once Bruce had hopped down and walked around the wagon, the animal ran over and leaped up on him, greeting Bruce with a long, wet tongue. Bruce managed to turn his face just in time.

“Shadow, down!” Pastor John gave a stern warning, as he stepped out onto the gray porch and crossed his arms. The dog dropped to all four feet and whimpered, lowering his head and walking back to his master, his tail no longer wagging.

“Sit down.” John pointed at the ground beside his feet. “That's no way to greet our guest.”

The dog plopped down into the exact spot with a pouting sigh.

“Sorry about that.” John grinned and slapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder when he reached the steps. “Hope I caught him before he caused any damage.”

“He's fine. I like dogs, and he knows it. I think he remembers me from my last visit.”

“Come on in.” John opened the door and waved him inside.

“I didn't know thee cooked.” The smell of chicken and dumplings teased his nose, mingled with the aroma of an apple pie. His tongue watered, and he gripped his rumbling stomach. He followed John through the living room and into the hallway.

“I don't. At least not well, but as a bachelor, I've learned to get by.” He stepped into the kitchen and motioned around the room. “But the Saferight ladies took pity on me and brought over some good food tonight.”

Flora turned from the counter and her blue-gray eyes met his as she carried two steaming bowls and set them down in front of two empty seats. Irene placed silverware around the table.

“I've heard about thy mother's good chicken and dumplings.” Bruce rubbed his hands in anticipation. “I'm looking forward to trying it.”

Flora straightened, her eyes piercing him with a glare as her hand flew to her slim hips. “I suppose thee will have to keep waiting.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Tonight we only have MY chicken and dumplings, and we all know how disappointing a meal by a foolhardy girl can be.”

“Flora?” Irene's eyes widened in surprise. “Thee doesn't sound like thyself.”

Lifting her chin in a testimony of defiance, Flora twisted her lips and turned to grab the other two steaming bowls waiting on the counter.

Bruce stood in place, realizing with trepidation how he must have sounded this morning. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and now he'd just insulted her again by not even giving her credit for having prepared the meal.

“Well, it smells delicious. I'm sure thy cooking is superb, since thee has learned from the best.” He forced a smile, hoping to lighten her mood. “I'm starved.”

A silver spoon crashed to the floor, splitting his ears. “I'm sorry.” Flora bent to retrieve it.

Irene cleared her throat and gestured to the chairs. “I made an apple pie for dessert. Go ahead, gentlemen, please have a seat.”

John pulled out a chair at the square table. Bruce took the seat opposite him, glancing in Flora's direction, but she ignored him as she poured water into cups. Irene set the cups on the table. She sat on his left and Flora on his right.

“Let's give thanks to the Lord.” John bowed his head. The two women followed his lead, as did Bruce. “Lord, we thank thee for the abundant meal we receive this night and for the friends gathered here. Give us wisdom. Help us to see thy plan and to follow thy guidance. In Jesus' name, amen.”

Everyone lifted their heads, and John looked around the table, his gaze shifting from Flora to Bruce. “Thanks for coming tonight. Go ahead and enjoy the meal, while I share the main reason we've all gathered.”

Bruce dipped his spoon and lifted a portion of chicken and a small dumpling. He shoved the bite into his mouth and savored the taste of tender meat and the soft chewy bread immersed in a buttery broth.

“Mmm…this is quite good.” The compliment rolled off his tongue.

No response followed. Unspoken tension filled the air, and he wondered if there would ever come a time when he would be able to reconcile his mistakes with Flora.

“Oh!” Flora jerked, jarring the table, and glared at Irene. Her pale cheeks struck a rosy glow that amused Bruce. “Um, I thank thee.”

It was a begrudging admission and one that Bruce assumed must have come from Irene's kick under the table. He grinned. How many times had he longed to do something similar when Flora wasn't behaving as he wanted her to?

“So, John,” he lifted his glass of water and forced his gaze upon their pastor, “tell us why we're here.”

“I have an important mission.” John leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and linking his fingers. “In a fortnight a slave couple will arrive, and I need someone to take them to Pennsylvania by way of Virginia. Since Flora and Irene already have an upcoming trip to Charlottesville, I thought it would be less suspicious if thee escorted them and the slave couple.”

“And Flora,” John turned to his left. “The slave girl is pregnant. We'll need thy midwife skills if anything goes wrong and she goes into early labor.”

Bruce stared at his pastor. Shock vibrated through his system. His jaw slackened and dropped open. How could he get out of this without offending anyone?

Flora sat still as disbelief pooled in her brain like a muddy swamp with no way out. Her pulse coursed through her body, pounding her limbs into numbness. The idea of being part of the Underground Railroad and doing something so meaningful for God thrilled her, but carrying the mission out with Bruce Millikan was impossible. They would kill each other, or worse, argue themselves into discovery, and then where would they be? Lives were at stake. No, this mission was too risky.

“But Pastor, Flora and I were planning to travel by train,” Irene said. “We were just there today inquiring about ticket prices. It's well known that the train is our plan. Would that not cause some suspicion if we were to suddenly change our minds?” Irene's surprised expression mirrored Flora's own feelings. She felt sorry for her sister, knowing how much she'd been looking forward to the train.

“Has thee already purchased the tickets?” John asked, his gaze flitting from Irene to Flora.

“No, but we were both so excited to be traveling by train that we've been telling everyone.” Irene touched Flora's wrist, soliciting her support. “Haven't we, Flora?”

“Y…yes,” Flora said, struggling to find her voice. She risked a glance in Bruce's direction, but he stared down at his bowl as if entranced. In spite of his rugged coloring from being out in the sun, he looked a bit pale. She had heard that Bruce was an avid abolitionist and his trips were in support of the cause. At least that was one thing in his character for which she could find no fault. If he was already active in such missions, she didn't want to stand in his way. His lack of silence could only mean one thing—he wasn't in favor of the idea any more than she.

“Irene, I'm sorry thee wouldn't be able to go by train. I know it's a huge disappointment, but think of the three souls thee could save in the process.” John touched her elbow. “There will be other opportunities to travel by train. This couple and their baby may not get another chance. They've already run away from their master. If caught, they could be beaten to death. We have to help them. Please consider it.”

Irene looked down, but not before Flora saw her trembling chin. How could one argue with the pastor's compassionate plea?

“I already know where Bruce stands on the subject of slavery, and what the Saferight family believes as a whole, but I've yet to hear an opinion from thee, Flora.” She could feel Pastor John's gaze upon her.

Lifting her attention from the table, she realized Bruce's green eyes watched her in silence. Her face grew warm under his scrutiny. Whatever was he thinking? Why wasn't he talking? She took a deep breath and licked her lips.

“Like my family, I strongly believe that no human being should own another. However, I've no experience in such matters, and I feel this mission is too important for me to be the midwife. Thee has made a wise decision in selecting Bruce. He's more than capable and well-respected in the community for completing his commitments.”

John finished chewing and swallowed as he weighed her words.

Bruce continued to study her, an eyebrow cocked and his eyes widened with an expression of curiosity. She ignored him and took a bite of her chicken and dumplings. In spite of how much she disliked him, if he expected her to lie—even about his abilities—he was quite wrong and didn't know her as well as he thought.

“Know what I think, Flora?” John lowered his spoon. “I think thee is not recognizing thy God-given gifts.” He pointed in her direction with a grin. “Thee has a heart to serve others, and that is why thee was called to midwifery.”

“True. I cannot deny it.” She nodded. “But perhaps I'm not ready. This is a lot of responsibility. How would we travel? The risk and danger keep weighing on my mind. Irene is only sixteen. Has thee spoken with Mother and Father?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head and took a deep gulp of water, while Bruce and Irene ate in silence. He set down his glass. “I wanted to first broach the subject with thee and Irene before I asked their permission. No need to do that if thee and thy sister are opposed.”

“We believe in the cause. I'm just not sure if we are the right people to be involved,” Flora said.

“The circumstances are perfect. Thee and Irene are already scheduled to travel to Virginia. All thee must do is change the way thee would travel. We have a special wagon with a compartment beneath the wagon bed. The slaves would hide in there while Bruce appears to be escorting thee and Irene to visit your family in Charlottesville. We've used this special wagon in lots of other missions, which were all successful. Believe me, Flora, there is some risk, but this is the least suspicious way.”

“Will we be camping the whole way?” Irene twisted her lips, obviously displeased at the thought. Flora smiled, knowing her sister was already mentally comparing the comfort of a train to the outdoor elements.

“We have Quaker families along the way who will receive thee with open arms. They will give thee a place to sleep, a warm bath, and food. But there will be some camping. I won't deny that.” John looked from Irene to Flora. “Will thee at least consider it? I need to know in a couple of days so I'll have time to make other arrangements, if not.”

Flora sighed, her chest feeling heavy. She glanced at Bruce, who gulped his water like a man who had gone too long without a well. “Bruce is very quiet. I'd like to know his thoughts.” She raised an eyebrow, plopped her chin on her palm, and waited.

He grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and sat back in his chair.

“For once, I agree with thee, Flora.” He scratched his reddish-blond sideburns. “This is an excellent cause, but Pastor John, the risk of danger is too great with two innocent women without any experience.”

“See? It's just as I said.” Flora tried to ignore the sting to her pride. His response had been just what she thought it would be. He didn't want her along any more than she wanted to go. “I know it's rare that Bruce Millikan and I agree on anything, but in this case we're united.”

Pastor John scooted his chair back, the legs scraping against the wooden floor. A mischievous grin played at his lips. His brown eyes lit with interest as he stared at Flora and then Bruce. He rubbed his stomach in satisfaction.

“Well, I happen to disagree.” He pointed at Bruce. “The same danger existed when thee first started out on these missions. Where does thee think experience begins? It always starts with innocence. I think this mission is perfect for both Flora and Irene—and it isn't so different from Mr. and Mrs. Saferight's first mission years ago.”

Flora gasped. “Mother and Father are part of the Underground Railroad?” She exchanged a look with her sister.