It was about noon from the looks of the sun and hotter than a day in July in Sudbury. We had drunk most of our water and so were much relieved to be given a ride. Lucky for us, Miss Milly was traveling almost forty miles to visit her ailing mother. When she asked where we were headed, I told her we were visiting family down south. She gave us a peculiar look but didn't say more.
When we stopped to rest and water the horse, Miss Milly reached for a basket at her feet. I nearly fainted with hunger when she opened it, for the smell of buttermilk and bacon biscuits was too good to be true. Having had nothing to eat since the night before, Jupiter and I could have eaten that whole basketful by ourselves.
But afore we had the chance to try, Miss Milly insisted that we offer some to “William first, as he'd be offended if we were to eat without him,” she said.
Jupiter looked behind us, and I looked under our seat, as we were both wondering where this “William” could be hiding.
“He simply can't abide bad manners,” Miss Milly continued, nodding toward her horse.
We turned our attention to the bay and then back down at the basket of biscuits. Neither of us had ever met a horse who cared one way or the other about manners, and we wondered just what that would look like. But Miss Milly didn't give us a chance to see, for she had already reached into the basket and was offering William a biscuit.
Then she told us how special a horse her William was and how he was named after a great poet. She recited a poem all about love and roses by an English fella called William Shakesomething. She said she liked his poetry so well that she had to name her horse after him. She reached back into the basket and fed William three more biscuits.
We finally parted company at a crossroads, and Miss Milly pointed to the road leading south and told us that “parting was such sweet sorrow.”
I shook my head, not knowing how to answer, on account of I wasn't sure just what she was so sorry about. But I sure knew that I was sorry to see William eating all those buttermilk biscuits—especially since Jupe and I only got one apiece!
We walked till twilight and didn't meet anyone else on the road. In the woods we found a hollow that made a good bed. Jupiter is lying beside me, staring up at the sky. I wonder if he's thinking about Darcy again. I suppose he is. I'm thinking about her, too, and about Miss Amelia back home. I hope she isn't having any of those heart palpitations of hers, worrying about me. Well, the light is gone, and I best get some sleep for tomorrow s journey.
Your brother, Levi
September 1853
Dear Austin,
It's been a while since I could sit down to write you. We hitched a ride on the back of a preacher s buggy that took us on a long and bumpy journey through the state of Virginia.
After that‘, we walked for a few miles afore coming upon a good-size pond. We found an old man sitting there in his wagon. He had driven his rig into the water to tighten his -wheels. Jupiter and I decided to have a swim to cool off. The old man smiled and tipped his corn-shuck hat as we swam by him. Do you remember what Old Man Grissard looks like? This old fella had the same leathery-looking face and red nose.
He seemed friendly enough, sitting and picking at his teeth with a goose quill, but there was a curious smell about him. As we swam in closer to his wagon we could see that his leg was stretched out afore him with one pant leg rolled up. Bound to his leg with a string were two live toads!
“I expect it seems a curious sight,” the old fella spoke up. He went on to tell us that his name was Fergus T. McGrath, and he explained how he had been bitten by a copperhead that very morning.
“Twas lucky for me I had my chickens in tow.” He pointed to the crate of chickens in the back of his wagon. Fergus went on to tell us how he had killed one, slitting it down the middle, and then tied its entrails over the bite. When the chicken began to turn cold, he threw it off and caught the toads.
“Their bodies draw the venom out,” Fergus explained as Jupiter and I stared bug-eyed at the toads, which still had some life left in them, for they would wiggle every now and then. I kept thinking of Plug Ugly and was glad that Possum was not there to witness their struggle.
When the toads finally died, Fergus untied the sorry-looking things and threw them into the water. He said his bite was all cured, and to celebrate he drove out of the pond and shared some dried beef and cottonseed tea with us.
“Be still, oh, mah heart,” I said as I got a whiff of the dried beef.
Jupiter looked at me and grinned. We were both thinking of Possum then.
“Be still, oh, mah heart!” Fergus repeated. “Sounds like a song.”
Then he pulled a mouth harp out of his pocket and began to play. Every once in a while he'd stop and start to sing, “Be still, oh, mah heart, my gal and I had to part…” It went on and on like that, with lots of good rhymes.
We traveled with Fergus T. McGrath in his wagon for the next two days. He told us some good tales, and he knew lots of songs. But as much as we enjoyed his singing and his stories, I have to admit that we were not sorry to leave him, for the company he kept was hard on the nose. After sharing a wagon with a crate of chickens, three piglets, and six ducks, the smell was mighty powerful.
We had confided in Fergus all about Darcy and how we hoped to find her. He told us about a slave auction “some five miles south of here,” where we might look for her. “But you must be careful. And Jupiter here best not do the looking,” he cautioned.
He said he wished he could take us there himself, but he had pigs to sell. We understood and promised to be careful.
When we parted ways, Fergus seemed concerned and wouldn't let us go without giving us the rest of the dried beef, two turnips, and an onion.
I felt so grateful for all that he had done for us -. that I wanted to give him something. The only thing I had was old turnip head. (I will make another one for Reuben, I promise.) Fergus laughed when I put the stick into his wagon and said that it was the best exchange of turnips he'd ever had!
By the time he let us off, the critters’ stink was all over our clothes, and we were desperate to find a crick or river to dunk ourselves in. We walked for a couple of miles but didn't find one. As it turned out, that was lucky for us.
What we did find were three young men who were sitting in the shade of a locust tree. At first I was hoping that they might offer us something to eat, but when we got up closer to them, I could see that they had been sucking on a jug for a spell.
“Now, take a looky here,” one of them called out on seeing us. He had a round pockmarked face under a straw hat and poppy eyes that reminded me of Plug Ugly.
“Who might this little master and his slave be come walking our -way?” he taunted. At first I thought they might be all gurgle and no guts, so Jupiter and I just kept on walking.
“Now, you two stop right there,” the man -with Plug Ugly's eyes barked so loud that my hair stood on end. The others both turned to look at us as we stopped dead center in the road.
“He don't resemble a Muller nor an Ingram neither,” another of them said. “Whose house you from, boy? Who's your daddy? I don't recognize your features none.”
I tried to think of how I should answer this, but afore I could, the tallest man stood up and put his hand on the other man's shoulder as he waved the jug in his hand.
“It's of no consequence, John Lee, whose house he might come from. He's a guest passing through Horn lands, and shaw, our mama has taught us our manners. Why, it would be downright unmannerly of us boys not to offer ‘em some refreshment.” The other two laughed at this and got to their feet.
“Looks as if his darky could use a little contentment,” one of the men said in a gargly voice as he pointed to Jupiter.
“O’ course, we can't have him holding the jug to his mouth,” he snarled. “That would never do. No, sir, that would ruin the whole batch of this here sweet contentment for any of us.”.
“We'll just have to pour some into him,” the man called John Lee said
as he took a wobbly step toward us.
I was trying to figure which way we should run, but they had surrounded us. I could see Jupiter's nails digging into his walking stick as we inched closer to each other. I hiccupped real loud, and one of the men began to laugh. I quick put my hand over my back pocket. Somehow just holding my hand over the flask calmed me enough to keep a fit from coming on. But there was nothing to calm my knees, for they had begun to buckle beneath me so that I didn't know if I even could run!
But just when it looked as if we were done for, the wind picked up and the man closest to us let out a holler.
“‘Shaw, they got a powerful stink on them!” he cried, backing away from us. The other two pretty much followed suit, coming closer, then backing off as soon as they got a good whiff. That's when I found that my knees worked just fine! We ran off the road and into the woods, and we didn't stop running till our sides hurt. Jupiter was so shook up his teeth were chattering, and I was trying hard not to cry.
After meeting with those bad fellas, we decided it was too dangerous to travel by the road. We'd have to stick to the woods instead. We found a crick and were able to wash the stink off, though we were both wondering if maybe we ought to leave it on, as it served us so well!
The only thing that kept me from crying today was thinking of you, Austin. You're the bravest brother a boy could have, going out alone to Oregon like you did. And so I kept them tears back behind my eyes, ‘cause I don't want you to ever have to be disappointed in me. I want to be as strong on this trip as you were on yours. You always told me how brave Pa was and how we each had some of him in us. I think you got more than I do, but even with the little bit I got, I aim to use it to make him proud.
Oh, I know Pa's gone, but sometimes I think about what Preacher Tully says about good souls going to heaven. And I think about Pa looking down from his place in heaven, and Ma there with him, listening out for us. And I imagine Pa smiling, ‘cepting when he hears a hiccup.
Your brother, Levi
September 1853
Dear Austin,
I'm not sure what day it is, as we've been walking for so long the days and nights seem to run into one another. We've been living on berries and nuts and not much more. I never knew the state of North Carolina was so big! I guess Jupiter and I just figured once we got here we'd find Darcy right off. Never thought about not finding her. Jupiter's shoes are almost worn through, and we're both bit up and bloodied with chigger bites, poison ivy, and beggar's-lice.
We can't seem to find our way out of these woods. If we ever do make it back to Sudbury, I don't suppose I will ever set foot out of Pennsylvania again, ‘cepting to come out to live with you. I sure wish you could be here now, as I know you'd probably find a way to get us out of here.
The nights are the worst, as these woods are full of strange-sounding birds and critters. It's the critters that give us concern. You can feel their eyes on you at night. Jupiter is most afeared of snakes, but I'm on the lookout for panthers myself.
I knew it was a bad idea as soon as I started, but I found myself telling ghost stories around the fire a few nights back. I told my favorite one about old Bloody Head, and then Jupiter clicked his teeth to let me know that he wanted to hear the one about old Rattle Bones. When the trees creaked in the wind over our heads, we knew it weren't really the trees at all. We knew it was old Rattle Bones come looking to pick our bones clean.
And when we heard some critter in the brush, we were certain it was old Bloody Head come to fetch our heads for his collection! We've been sleeping with our shoes on ever since and doing a powerful lot of praying.
Your brother, Levi,
lost somewhere in the wilds of the Carolinas
September 1853
Dear Austin,
Still hungry, still scratching chiggers, and still lost… I don't feel much like writing, but it's the only way I have to somehow feel as if we're talking. Oh, Austin, I'd give anything to hear your voice right now. If only you could tell me what to do. I wonder what you're doing at this very moment when I'm feeling so low. Are you laughing over a joke Reuben just told? Are you whistling one of your tunes? Are you sleeping? Are you smiling? Are you listening?
Your brother, Levi
September 1853
Dear Austin,
Our big worry now, aside from having so little to eat, is gators. We found our way out of the woods and into a swamp. Jupiter and I both remembered the story that his pa told us all ‘bout how gators eat folks alive down in the swamps. They've got some strange-looking bugs here and moss that hangs from the trees, all of which gives me a most uneasy feeling.
When we finally got to drier ground, we found some good pine knots, which we used to start a fire last night, but there were no vittles to cook over it and we went to bed mighty hungry. As it turned out, hunger was the least of our troubles, for no sooner had I fallen asleep than I was woken by the loud click of a peppercorn pistol nuzzling the side of my head!
I got a whiff of lead by my nose and the feel of hard cold metal nudging me just above my right ear. I blinked, and when my eyes got adjusted to the darkness, I could see a black face frowning afore me.
There was a deep voice to go with the face, and it rumbled in my ears.
“Who you be?”
It had been so long since I'd heard another human voice, I didn't know what to make of it. But. it didn't take me long to realize that this voice was not friendly.
“Levi Ives,” I gulped as the man pressed the pistol tighter against my skull.
“And you?” he whispered to Jupiter in a manner just as threatening.
“He can't answer,” I replied.
“Why not?” the voice demanded.
“He got the words scared out of him,” I said, my own words coming out mighty quivery.
“And his name?”
“Jupiter,” I croaked. “Jupiter Hale.”
The pressure of the revolver against my head lessened a bit as the man paused, then repeated, “Hale? Hale? Y'all know who yah daddy be?”
Jupiter nodded as his breaths came in fits and starts.
“Winston,” I spoke up. “His pa is Winston Hale.”
“Why, I knew of a Winston Hale married to a Delia on de Tate plantation in de state of Maryland. Had dem a baby called Jupiter. Don't tell, you be dat baby!” His voice suddenly grew friendlier, and he lowered his pistol.
I gulped a breath of air, relieved to have the gun away from my head. Jupiter and I slowly sat up. When we did, we could see two men standing in back of the man with the gun. Their faces were all black as the night, and they looked as frightened as we were.
“Last time I heard ‘bout yah daddy,” the man continued, “heard he be runnin’ a route up in de state of Pennsylvania. Work wit some preacher. Would dat be de same Winston Hale?”
Jupiter nodded.
“Preacher Tully was de name, if I remember,” the man said. “He and your daddy be deliverin’ slaves goin’ on up into Canada.”
I turned to look at Jupiter, wondering what the man was talking about, when I realized that he meant the Underground Railroad!
“Your pa and Preacher Tully?” I gasped, staring in disbelief.
Jupiter had a strange look on his face, and I suddenly remembered the last time I had seen that look—out in the woods back of Preacher Tully's smokehouse the night I was with Possum and Maudee, investigating the strange light.
I was so stunned it was all I could do to keep my mouth from dropping open in disbelief. But there was little time to ponder it all, for the man with the pistol had suddenly begun to snore! It was the strangest thing, Austin, for he was standing up afore us when his eyes suddenly closed and he fell asleep, sound asleep standing on two feet, just as if he were lying on a bed.
“Mercy, Moses, you havin’ a sleepin’ spell agin?” one of the other men asked.
“Moses?” I whispered. “Didyou say Moses?”
“She be our Moses, all right,” the man replied.
&
nbsp; “Bringin’ her people out of de dark into de light to de promised land. We runnin’ from Marster Rankin's bullwhip, and without Moses here, we most likely never git past his dogs.”
“Don't know many folk, man or woman, willin’ to take on dose devil dogs,” the other man whispered.
So the sleeping man called Moses was not a man at all but a woman! Her voice was so low she sounded like a man. That's ‘when I remembered the woman conductor on the Underground Railroad that Miss Amelia had told me about. Her name was Harriet Tubman, but her nickname was Moses. I wondered if this could be the same Moses.
Then as suddenly as she had fallen asleep, the woman woke up with a grunt and began to speak as if no time had gone by at all.
“So, Levi Ives, you tell me jest what you and Jupiter Hale be doin’ down here in dis slave state.”
I tried to explain about Darcy and how we had hoped to find her and bring her home with us to Sudbury. I also told Moses about the men with the jug and how we came to be hiding in the woods.
“Come Saturday der be a big slave auction takin’ place on de Meriweather plantation not two miles south of here,” one of the men said. “Most likely dem slave catchers be headin’ there. Traders come from miles around to sell wat dey buy and wat dey ketch. It be jest beyond dat crick.” He pointed to a crick that ran to our right. It must have been the auction that Fergus had mentioned.
Moses shot Jupiter a look, and she frowned. “I know'd wat you be thinkin’, but listen up, now. Ain't no way you two half-mites could free a horse fly once it be put on de auction block. So puts it out of yah head. ‘Sides, yah daddy knows y'all even down here?”
Jupiter lowered his head and shifted from one foot to the other.
After much hesitation, he shook his head.