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

waited. I could tell by his movements when the door opened, but no light appeared. Conductors had to be cautious in the middle of the night. Fugitives could be moved any time of year, but snow made tracking them easier, so they usually laid low when it snowed.
    Jesse returned and removed the coverings without a word. Josiah appeared, wearing an old coat of Ben’s. He leaned over and touched my shoulder as he let himself down from the sleigh.
    “Good bye, Miss Ann. Thank you,” he whispered.
    “Good bye, Josiah.”
    Jesse escorted him to the house. The door closed, and Jesse returned to the sleigh. He turned the horses around and headed home. That was that.
     

Chapter 10
     

1855 – Early Spring
     
    I knew I was pregnant by the middle of March. I knew it before that—by mid-February—but tried not to believe it. Two months of daily bouts of nausea were evidence enough, if I needed more. I can’t describe how I felt when I knew. A sickening fear—isolation, resignation—closed in on me. So alone. I looked desperately for someone to turn to. Someone to help. But there was no one, so I determined to keep my secret as long as I could and carried on as though nothing were amiss.
    I took to walking alone along the roads or in the woods, with no particular destination, as though there were some answer out there, if only I could find it. One afternoon, I found myself in the creek bottom near the Hartley place. I didn’t want to pass too close, but once I realized where I was, it was too late. Pru had spied me.
    “Ann Redfield! What makes you come calling?” she hailed from the broken-down porch. It was almost as though she welcomed a visit.
    “Afternoon, Pru. Just passing through. How’ve you been?” I tried to sound pleasant.
    “Fair to middlin’. You still got that nigger hidin’ out up at your house?”
    “Whatever can you be talking about?” I tried to say it lightly, but Pru was having none of it.
    “You know right well what I’m talkin’ about. I saw his black face lookin’ out at me one day in Jan’ry. Don’t think I didn’t!”
    “Is that why your brothers came to our house looking for a runaway? Honestly, Pru, you’re mistaken.”
    She spit on the porch. “Mistook, hell. I know a nigger when I see one. You Redfields better watch out. Folks got their eye on you.”
    I moved past the house, fighting the urge to run. “I’m on my way to Alum Bank to pick up the mail. Want me to bring yours?” I asked, knowing full well that the Hartleys never got mail—and couldn’t read it if they did.
    “No need. But you might bring me a pound of sugar and some tea while yer about.” She preened in the doorway, feigning gentility.
    I felt hateful toward her. Her and her whole low-class, ignorant, evil family. A child eyed me from behind her ragged skirt. More of the same, I thought. I hastened on down the path, careful not to step in anything.
    The declaration of intention to marry for Elizabeth Redfield and William McKitrick was read at the Second Monthly Meeting (February) and again at the Third (March). No obstacles to the union were discovered, so the wedding took place in Fourth Month (April).
    I did what I could to lose myself in the preparations for Betsy’s wedding. I cleaned, sewed, baked and cooked until I was numb. Will McKitrick had bought a little house in New Paris to accommodate his family and his shoemaking business, so that had to be cleaned and painted, curtains made, furniture moved. Betsy and I worked hard at both houses, and I was grateful, for the work kept my mind off my situation.
    Friends arrived from miles around at the Dunning Creek Meeting house, for both the Redfields and the McKittricks were well known and respected. The weather, unseasonably warm for mid-April, delivered a lovely day for the wedding dinner at Redfield Farm. I got up at dawn, worked before the service, worked after the service, welcomed guests, served food, refilled plates, cleaned up after, and fell into