Storm Clouds Rolling In (48 page)

Rose smiled in the darkness.
Moses had been working so hard. He had mastered reading in only a few weeks and devoured everything she could get to him. It wasn’t much, but she did the best she could. He also made sure she corrected him on his speech. In only a few months he hardly resembled the defeated man who was brought to Cromwell from the slave auction. Rose had grown to depend on him, but he had never spoken his heart again after the night Jamison had come. She was content in what they had.

Her face grew more serious as the two slowed their pace and crept quietly toward the road.
Moses had insisted they come early.
In case it’s a trap
, he had said.
I trust Jamison but it never hurts to be careful.
He figured if a trap was going to be laid, it would be done just before the slaves were supposed to meet the wagon on the road. They intended to be there to watch.

They peered out of the bushes, scanning the road and the surrounding
forest. Great banks of clouds obscured any moonlight that would betray their actions. Flashes of heat lightning competed with the luminescent flashes of lightning bugs. Rose forced herself not to slap at the mosquitoes leaving their mark on the exposed parts of her body. The night, still simmering with the heat of the day, wrapped itself around her like a wet cloak. She fought to control the nervous pounding of her heart. Finally, she tugged at Moses’s arm. They had to go get the others.

Moses nodded.
He seemed satisfied. No one was waiting in the murky blackness. If their friends were going to escape, tonight would be the night. He held Rose’s hand as they walked back through the night. He knew the wooded trails as well as she did now.

When they broke into the school clearing, eight sets of frightened, yet determined eyes met them.

Jasmine, carrying nothing but a small bundle of clothing, rose to greet them.
“Is everythin’ alright?” she asked anxiously. Then she looked closely at Rose. “Where be your other clothes? Mr. Jamison done told us we could bring some extra, didn’t he?” she asked with a worried frown.

Rose nodded reassuringly.
“Yes, Jasmine.” She took a deep breath. “I have something to tell all of you,” she said softly. “I...I won’t...” she gulped, trying to force the words out. Now that the time had come, the pain of being left behind was almost unbearable. “I won’t be coming with you,” she finally forced out in a barely discernible whisper.

A shocked silence fell on the group of soon-to-be fugitives.
Jasmine was the first to speak. “What you talkin’ bout, Miss Rose? What do you mean you ain’t comin’ with us?”

“Rose can’t leave her mama.”
Miles spoke in a soft voice that expressed admiration and understanding of her pain at the same time.

Rose turned to him with a grateful smile.
“Miles is right. My mama needs me. I can’t leave her now. But it’s alright,” she said, summoning a brave smile. “My turn will come sometime.”

Sadie’s troubled voice broke into the stillness of the night.
“You be knowin’ this all along, Rose?”

Rose nodded.
“I thought it would make it easier for all of you if you thought I was going to escape with you. You’re doing the right thing,” she said earnestly. “Jamison can be trusted. I will be back here praying and believing for you.”

The little group gazed around at each other in concern.
They had counted on Rose being with them.

Miles was the first to speak.
“So be it,” he said firmly. He turned to Rose. “We’ll miss you, girl, but I know you’re makin’ the decision best for you.” He turned to the others. “We have to git goin’. This is our chance to be free. We can’t do nothin’ to mess it up.
We’s going to be free
!”

The strength of his words flowed into the rest of the group.
Their backs straightened, and one by one, they all nodded.

“You’ll always be right smack in the center of our hearts, Rose.”
Sadie spoke for all of them. “You done taught us how to read and write. Cause of you we can do somethin’ wid our lives when we make it to Canada. Thank you.”

Rose made no effort to hide the tears running down her face.
She hugged each one and then stepped back. “We need to be going,” she said firmly. She turned and led the way back down the trail.

“She’s better isn’t she, Carrie?”

Carrie looked up at her father standing next to the bed where his wife had just drifted back to sleep. “She’s better,” she agreed. She would not burden her father with her fear.

“The doctor said you worked a miracle bringing her temperature down.”

Carrie frowned. “He couldn’t tell me what caused it.” Actually, the visiting doctor had deeply frustrated her. His examination had been perfunctory and he seemed stymied by his patient’s sudden onset of sickness. His manner had been brusque and uncaring. She had tried to justify his behavior by saying he was tired and overworked, but still it had grated on her. Her desire to be a doctor had risen steadily while she watched him work.

Thomas continued to stare down at his wife.
“How long before she is back to normal?”

“I don’t know, Father.”
Carrie didn’t know what else to say. She knew from all of her reading in the medical journals that a high fever sustained for as long as her mother’s could be very serious. She reached out a hand and patted his arm. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“What did the doctor say to do?”

Carrie shrugged. “Nothing,” she admitted flatly. That had been the hardest thing. The doctor had offered no word of hope and given no clear instructions on what she could do to help her mother. He has simply shaken his head, closed his bag, and walked from the room. She had been so glad her father hadn’t been there to see it. He still had hope. She was trying to.

Rose could hear the low rumble of a wagon coming down the road when the group had almost reached the edge of the woods.
Jamison, if it
was
Jamison, was right on time. She held her finger to her lip and crouched down behind the surrounding brush. Everyone followed her example. Not a sound betrayed their presence.

Slowly, the wagon approached and stopped.
Rose peered out into the darkness. She would wait for the signal.

“I am a friend.”

Rose sighed with relief and moved out into the road.
“Hello, Mr. Jamison.”

“Hello, Rose.
It’s good to see you again.” Jamison’s voice was calm, but his eyes never stopped moving.

”I have eight people waiting to join you.” Rose answered his next question before he asked it. “Adams is off on a drinking binge. It’s Saturday night. He won’t come near the quarters until Monday morning. Mrs. Cromwell is sick. No one will be missed until Adams raises the alarm.”

“Good
.” Jamison jumped down from the wagon and turned to her. “Have you changed your mind, Rose? It’s not too late to join us.”

Rose shook her head and managed a smile.
“No, Mr. Jamison. I will be staying here.”

Jamison frowned slightly and nodded.
“I have no way of knowing how long it will take to get them to freedom. It is getting more difficult. As the number of escaping slaves increase, more and more effort is being made to stop it. It took us two months to get a group from Blackwell to Philadelphia. Even then, one of them almost got caught. A young girl managed to delay the slave hunters long enough for us to get her away. They are on their way to Canada now. They should be free soon.”

Rose smiled.
“I’m glad,” she murmured.

Jamison nodded and looked toward the woods.
“Let’s go, everyone. We have to be at the next station before it starts to get light.” He waved his hand at the wagon piled high with sweet-smelling hay. “Everyone under the hay.” He waited while the group of slaves filed silently from the woods, and smiled encouragingly at each one of them. “My job is to take you to freedom. Thank you for trusting me. I admire your courage.”

             
The group nodded soberly and began to climb into the wagon. Rose knew now that the moment was here they were overwhelmed with their fears of what could happen, but there was no turning back. They had set their faces to freedom and nothing was going to make them turn away. She and Moses watched them silently.

Jamison climbed into his seat and stared down at them.
“If there is some way to let you know they made it, I will.” Then he picked up his reins and clucked to his team.

Rose watched as the wagon rumbled down the road.
Long after it had disappeared she continued to stand, staring into the blackness.

“Rose?”
Moses’s gentle voice and soft touch on her shoulder broke the dam. Sobbing, she turned and pressed her face against his massive chest. He said nothing—just held her close and stroked her hair, staring into the darkness as she had done.

“Manson back yet?”
Ike Adams tipped his glass back and took another long gulp of whiskey. He grinned as the burning liquid flowed down his throat and numbed his mind.

“Nah
,” Jennings smirked. “He ain’t gonna find them niggers. Blackwell will probably give him the boot. Them slaves were worth thousands of dollars.”

“It weren’t his fault them niggers got away
.” Adams protested hotly. “You can’t be with them every second.” He scowled into his drink. “It’s them damn Yankees. They’re coming down here and taking our slaves. They need to come down here and fight like real men. Then we’d show ‘em.” He sounded tough, but the other man’s words had awakened an ever-present fear. What would happen to his job if some of the Cromwell slaves managed to escape?

“Manson’s had hunters after them slaves for two months now.
I heard he even took off for Philadelphia himself something about them slaves maybe being there.” Jennings shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be him if he has to come back and tell Blackwell he didn’t find them slaves.” Dramatically, he pulled an imaginary knife across his throat and grimaced.

Adams jumped up and reached for the whiskey bottle.
“It ain’t his fault I tell you!”

Jennings shrugged.
“Somebody going to carry the blame.” He squinted his eyes. “What about the Cromwell niggers, Adams? What you gonna do if some of them get away?”