Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad by Judith Redline Coopey Page B

to pour himself a drink of water from a pitcher on the table.
    “That man put me on the road. I go from Washington to Leesburg to Winchester, then north to Cumberland and on up here. I travel a little every night. Sometime it get hot and I lay low a few days. Them last folks, they nice, but they sick. I knowed soon as I seen them. Hadn’t been for you, I’d a died.”
    Uncomfortable with his intense gratitude, I looked away. “Well, come spring, you’ll be on your way again. To Canada and your own life.”
    “Yes’m. I got me a wife back in Culpeper County. Name Lettie. She mistress’s personal maid, so she won’t be sold. I gotta get her out, soon’s I can get us a place in Canada.”
    “A wife? Oh, Josiah! Any children?”
    “Not yet. We didn’t want to born no more slaves. But Lettie anxious. Cry like a baby when I run. Cry ’n cry, like she gonna die.”
    I touched his hand. “I know, Josiah.” I looked up as he brushed away a tear.
    I’d never seen a man cry before. Amos had not, when Mama died. Not where I could see him, anyway. If Jesse ever did, it wasn’t in front of me. I felt a lack of intimacy with men. Touched by his openness, I gave way to impulse and covered his hand with mine. The contrast of our skin color stood out. I went to move my hand, but he held it, shoulders shaking as he gave way to sobs. I lifted my other hand and touched his shoulder.
    “Oh, Josiah. You’ll get her back. You’ll build a life. There’ll be freedom and home and babies. Have faith. God has brought you this far. He will not forsake you.”
    Ï
     
    Jesse arrived that evening, a mince pie and a bundle of mail in hand, including two letters from Elias. He wrote regularly, at least once a week. These were from last week and the week before. They were brief. He was well and learning a lot. He’d bought two likely looking brood mares. He was anxious to come home. He had something to tell me. He’d see me in about three weeks.
    Mid-December. Just before Christmas. I flew into a frenzy of preparation for his homecoming: cooking, cleaning, baking. I should get some cloth and sew a new dress to wear for him. What should I get him for Christmas? We’d never exchanged gifts before, but this year—after he’d told me his “news”—I was sure we would. I wanted to make this Christmas special.
    Will McKitrick came often and stayed late, hampering Betsy’s worth as a helper. I went on about my work whether he was there or not. He and Betsy courted in the new parlor while I worked in the kitchen producing Christmas confections or sewing by lamplight.
    I made linen shirts for Papa, Jesse and Nathaniel for Christmas, and for Betsy a set of table linen. But I thought more about my gift for Elias than anything else. It should be appropriate. Not too intimate. I settled on a pair of fine-knit wool stockings he could wear to Meeting, and maybe, depending on the season, on our wedding day.
    As I cast on stitches for his gift, I hoped next Christmas would find me in my own home with a husband to care for, and, perhaps, knitting booties.
     

Chapter 6
     

1854 –Christmastime
     
    I worked every spare moment making my Christmas gifts, as everyone did. Amos and Jesse spent so much time working in the barn, I knew better than to go there unannounced. Betsy made a wedding shirt for Will, another excuse for them to be together, for the fittings—as though they needed another excuse! Betsy knitted, sewed and stitched endlessly when she and I weren’t cooking, washing or cleaning.
    The work made the time pass quickly, and I became more breathless with each day that brought Elias closer to home. I could think of little else, even lapsing into daydreams at Meeting.
    I helped Josiah learn his lessons with the same distraction I applied to my chores. An apt pupil, he made quick progress from his letters to words to sentences. There was little for him to read, except the Bible, so he began with Genesis and resolved to work his way