Sweet Forever by Ramona K. Cecil Page B

to see the way they accepted the intrusion. She, too, had known what it was to be treated as less than human. Like these slaves, she’d lived with terror, accepting it as a matter of course. The cruelty she’d experienced in her own life caused her heart to bond with these innocent unfortunates who simply longed to breathe free. With tears streaming down her face, Rosaleen hugged the little ones in turn.
    “God bless you, Miss Rosaleen.”
    Stunned at the first words Sally had uttered to her, Rosaleen hugged the frail woman. She pressed into Sally’s hands the bottle of tonic that had done wonders for Elijah’s cough. “Just stay well. All of you.”
    “Need you to come, too.”
    Startled, Rosaleen raised her face to Andrew’s. “Why?”
    Whispering, he kept his words pared to the essentials. “ ’Case we’re stopped an’ somebody asks questions. Patsey ain’t been feelin’ none too good. Jis fetchin’ you to see about Patsey, that’s all.”
    A still, small voice spoke to Rosaleen’s heart, nudging her to the straw mattress. She’d been reading the words of Jesus. With each new day, the longing in her heart grew stronger to obey His words. This evening she’d been reading from the nineteenth chapter of Matthew. Hungering for Christ’s acceptance, she’d fixed her attention on Jesus’ response to a young man who’d asked how he might attain eternal life. She’d read verse twenty-one over and over until she’d committed it to memory.
    “Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.”
    Without hesitation or regret, she reached into the mattress slit and grasped the little calico bag then turned to Andrew. “I want them to have this. It’s only six dollars, but maybe it will help.”
    “Bless you, Miss Rosaleen.” The look of gratitude on Andrew’s face as he tucked the bag inside his shirt was all the reward she needed.
    Praying had now become a habit with Rosaleen. Though she remained unsure if Jesus actually heard the prayers, they simply made her feel better. She prayed hard as their little ragamuffin band stole down the stairs and out to Andrew’s waiting wagon.
    In the darkness, Rosaleen could just make out the farm wagon piled high with straw. While she wondered if Sally and the children would have to burrow deep inside, she watched Andrew reach beneath the wagon bed and unlatch a little door. To her amazement, the three runaways crawled up into the false wagon bottom, and Andrew fastened the door behind them.
    Her heart hammering, Rosaleen bounced on the buckboard seat beside Andrew. They wended their way through the moonless night, northeast out of Madison. Andrew had told her the next station was at a place he’d called Eagle Hollow. He said the distance would be about ten miles, but the crooked, elevated path made it seem twice as long.
    At last, they stopped at a little stone house, and Andrew rapped softly at the door.
    The door creaked open, revealing no light within the home’s dark interior.
    “I have the cargo you ordered.” Andrew’s whispered words carried through the still night air to the wagon.
    No one answered, but a moment later he was at the back of the wagon helping the three runaways from their cramped hiding place.
    Rosaleen’s eyes strained in the darkness to catch one last glimpse of the three who’d shared her attic room for the past two days and three nights. A prayer rent from her anxious heart. Jesus, be with them. You healed the sick, raised the dead, and stilled the tempest. Please, please just keep them safe.
    “Will they make it?” Rosaleen couldn’t help asking the question as she and Andrew jostled over the rut-pocked road toward Madison.
    “Good chance. Conductors from here on are pretty reliable.”
    “Is Patsey really sick?” Sudden concern for her friend tightened Rosaleen’s voice. She hated the thought of Patsey sick at home