Francine playfully swatted Mr. Hood across the arm. “You teaser. I did tell you about Dani.”
Hood responded by gazing down into her eyes, then declared, “Blame it on your beauty. It’s rendered me so dim-witted, I must’ve forgotten.”
Francine trilled a swoon, but Belle found the performance ridiculous.
Hood then turned to Daniel and said, “You’ve a fine lady here, Dan. Treat her well, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Still avoiding Daniel’s gaze, Francine gave a strained little laugh. “You are so silly. Come on. I see someone else I want you to meet.”
With a wave to Daniel she was off.
Daniel seemed to have been turned to stone. Mrs. Best watched Francine’s departure with a grimness in her eyes Belle had never seen before.
Mrs. Best told Belle, “Find Jojo. It’s time to go. Daniel, you get the wagon; I’ll get your father.”
Belle hazarded a glance Daniel’s way, then said, “Yes, ma’am.” Belle hurried off to fetch Jo. When she looked back Daniel was striding away.
An upset Daniel sat in the wagon. Was it his imagination, or did his intended show an uncommon interest in the new teacher? It was quite obvious Francine had been lying about having confessed to having a beau; Hood’s surprise appeared genuine. Granted, Daniel could be wrong, and Francine’s introducing Hood around could be totally innocent, but it didn’t feel that way. Gut instinct told him something was going on between Francine and Paul Hood, and Daniel didn’t know whether to applaud this surprising turn of events, or punch the teacher in the nose.
On the walk back to the wagon, Belle clued Jojo in on what had transpired. An angry Jo snapped, “She didn’t tell Mr. Hood that she and Daniel are practically engaged?”
Belle shook her head. “Nope. His surprise looked real, Jo.”
Jojo had nothing else to say, it seemed, because she and Belle crossed the rest of the church grove in silence.
When they reached the wagon, Mr. and Mrs. Best were already aboard, as was Daniel. He appeared to be staring off at a place only he could see. The appearance of Belle and his sister broke his reverie. He helped them both up to the wagon bed, then took his seat again. Not a word was said as Mr. Best turned the wagon’s team back to the road.
A few miles from home, Mr. Best said to Belle, “Heard some real interesting news after church from one of the men today, Belle.”
Her hopes rising, she asked, “About my father?”
“Yep, it seems one of Watson’s friends down in Dayton, a man named Boyle, ran into problems escorting a bunch of fugitives back South.”
“What kind of problems?”
“They escaped.”
Belle’s eyes widened.
Mr. Best added, “We’re fairly sure your pa was one of those fugitives.”
An excited Belle looked over at Jo and Daniel, who both met her eyes with smiles. Belle had so many questions she didn’t know which one to ask first. “Did they get away?”
“Nine of the sixteen did.”
Mrs. Best, looking surprised, asked, “When was this, William?”
“About two weeks ago. Since then, every slave-catching gang from here to the Kentucky border has been hunting them.”
Daniel asked then, “Do you think Watson’s riding with them, and that’s why we’ve not seen him around?”
His father nodded. “Possibly. Seems this man Boyle is a fairly new trafficker, and his farm serves as a pen for folks being funneled back South.”
“So,” Belle said, “Watson and his cronies take all their captives to Dayton and this man handles the captives from that point?”
“Yes.”
“But how can anyone be sure my pa was one of the nine?”
“He and a few of the nine made it to a station near Columbus. Last night, one of our committee members returned from visiting his sister there. She’s a conductor, too, and your pa is hiding at her house. Or at least was; they’ve probably moved him by now.”
Belle was speechless. He was safe? “But how did he know it was my pa?”
“Your father asked about you.”
Belle went silent, then tears slowly filled her eyes. “He asked about me?”
Jojo put a comforting arm around Belle’s shoulders and gave them a comforting quick squeeze.
Mr. Best nodded. “Yes, when our friend and his sister questioned the runaways about having family anywhere near, your pa told the story of being separated from you. Our friend knew of your plight because your case has been a priority for us here in Whittaker.”
Belle asked, “Did your friend tell Pa I was here safe?”
“Yes, he did.”
The happy tears ran down her face and she dashed them away with the backs of her hands. “Why couldn’t my father just come back with your friend?”
“Too dangerous. Catchers are everywhere: on the roads, watching train depots. They’re even raiding some of our stations. They want your pa and the others found and found quickly. Slave owners don’t pay if the slaves aren’t returned. Losing nine of them certainly won’t enhance this Boyle’s reputation.”
“So when do you think I’ll be able to see him?”
Mr. Best shrugged as he drove. “Truthfully? We don’t know. As I’ve said, he’s probably been moved elsewhere by now. Our friend’s sister promises to keep us aware of his transfer soon. Much depends on the slave catchers. If they give up and go after other souls, you may see your father before too long, but if Watson and the others take it upon themselves to keep looking for as long as it takes, it could be winter.”
Mrs. Best turned around so she could see Belle. “It really is wonderful news, Belle.”
“I know, Mrs. Best, but I want to see him now, this moment.”
Mrs. Best smiled understandingly. “You will. It might not be at this moment, but you will.”
An elated Belle sank back against the seat. My papa’s alive! And that was all she could think about for the rest of the ride home.
twelve
After church Daniel spent the afternoon brooding alone in his room. He was happy that Belle finally had received news of her father, but Daniel kept seeing Francine and Paul Hood. Coming to a decision, he left his room to seek out his parents.
They were out back, on the swing. Many years ago, when Daniel was small, William Best built Cecilia a big, pew-length porch swing and suspended it behind the house from the thick branches of one of the oldest and shadiest elms on the property. The swing was taken down every November, but put back up every May so that the two of them could enjoy the cool evening breeze at the end of the day. One evening when Daniel and Jo were much younger, they’d caught their parents sharing a kiss out here, and he remembered how terribly embarrassed he and his sister had been. As Daniel walked up now, they were just relaxing on a fine Sunday afternoon.
“I think I’m going to ride over to Francine’s, if that’s okay,” Daniel said to them.
His mother, seated next to his father, nodded. “That’s fine, son. I’ll save you some supper, if you’re not back.”
With sudden insight, William said, “If it’s worth anything, we’ll support whatever decision you make concerning Francine and your future.”
The words of confidence made Daniel feel good inside. “It’s worth a great deal. Thanks, Pa. I’ll be back later.”
Bolstered by his parents’ blessings, Daniel saddled up his horse. He had a few questions he wanted to ask Francine and he intended to get some answers. When he got to her house, however, she wasn’t home.
Hodges met Daniel at the door. “Francine and her father have taken Mr. Hood to dinner at a friend’s home. I’ll let her know you stopped by.”
Tight-lipped, Daniel said, “Thanks, Hodges.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Daniel.”
Moments later, Daniel and his horse were heading home. Out of all fairness, Daniel knew he had to hear Francine’s side of the story before any final decisions could be made, but it certainly felt like the beginning of the end
to him.
Very late that night, sounds of someone pounding forcefully on the front door awakened the entire Best household. In bed, Belle struggled to sit up. She had just shaken off the sleep well enough to open her eyes when Mrs. Best hastened into her room.
“Get up, Belle. Slave catchers are downstairs. They’re looking for Nelson Parker.”
Belle’s eyes widened. “The man in the crate?”
“Yes. Grab a robe and come downstairs. Don’t say a word unless you’re spoken to directly. Hurry, dear; I’m going to wake Jo.”
Mrs. Best must have sensed Belle’s fear because she stopped and looked back, saying, “It’ll be all right. We’ve had them here before. They won’t find out anything, especially not about you.”
Belle was still scared but hurried to put on her robe.
Downstairs she nervously entered the parlor to join the rest of the family. As she went to stand beside Jojo and her mama, Belle saw that already in the room were, along with Daniel and his father, Sheriff Lawson and another White man wearing a battered, sweat-soiled hat and a long, threadbare coat. He was as tall and thin as a scarecrow and had a hollow, ghoulish face to match. Belle had no idea who he might be, but he was by far the dirtiest, smelliest man of any race she’d ever encountered. His unwashed body filled the air with the thick, foul scent of dogs, horses and sweat.
The man had surveyed Belle closely when she entered, and now asked, “Who’s she?”
Belle looked away from his blackened gums and yellow, stunted teeth.
Mr. Best answered, “My wife’s niece, Belle.”
“She’s free, too, I suppose?” the man tossed back sarcastically.
“Yes, she is,” William Best responded coolly. “The sheriff has her papers on file.”
Jojo reached out and took Belle’s hand. Jojo’s cold hand was shaking. Belle squeezed it reassuringly. She looked over at Daniel. His eyes were angry, his face tight.
The man looked Belle up and down for a fright-filled moment more. “You know,” he drawled malevolently, “I can smell runaways a mile away and this place stinks with them.”
When he turned away from Belle, she willed her heart to stop racing, then wondered if his nose was so keen why couldn’t he smell himself?
From the conversations that followed, Belle learned that the man was Otis Watson. It gave Belle a modicum of relief to know Watson was here and not out hunting her father.
His voice refocused her attention. “I’m also looking for some nigras that ran away from a friend of mine down in Ohio. You people know anything about that?”
When no one confessed, Watson declared, “Well, that’s a good thing because I got six mounted men and a passel of hunting hounds stationed outside. My hounds are real partial to dark meat—if you catch my meaning,” he added with a malevolent, black-gummed grin.
Mr. Best stiffened in response to the bigoted taunt, but remained silent.
Watson spent a few more moments looking them all over before saying, “Now, back to this Parker. We know he was shipped to Pennsylvania and then on to here because the White man who crated him confessed, just before they put his abolitionist arse in the Richmond jail last week. He’s gonna serve eight years for aiding your kind.”
He cackled like a demon. Belle fought to keep her shudders from being seen.
William Best responded brittlely, “Well, we’ve no knowledge of this Parker or his whereabouts.”
“Maybe not now, but you were involved. I know it,” Watson accused.
“You’re wrong.”
It was a standoff.
Sheriff Lawson seemed to be as tired of Watson as the Bests and Belle were because the lawman asked tightly, “Is there anything else you want here, Watson? These nice folks would like to go back to sleep.”
Otis Watson snarled a scarecrow smile. “Yeah, I want to search the house.”
By law, the Bests had no right to prohibit a slave catcher with a federal warrant from searching the house. Belle had been told by Jojo that as a warning to other abolitionists, catchers were known to leave homes in shambles after a search. Belle prayed the Bests wouldn’t be subjected to such treatment.
For the next hour, Watson and two of his men left their muddy boot prints all over Mrs. Best’s newly mopped floors, and their foul scent in every room. They searched the kitchen, the cellar and under beds. They opened cupboards, looked up the flue, and threw back the rugs in a hunt for trapdoors. They even searched the barn where Mr. Best and Daniel worked. Belle knew they hoped to find some evidence of Nelson Parker’s crate, but it had been reduced to kindling only a few hours after Mr. and Mrs. Best’s return home that day.
The catchers found nothing. When they wanted to bring in the dogs, Sheriff Lawson put his foot down. “You’ve searched once. The act doesn’t give you the right to search again and again, so we are done here. Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Best; my apologies for all this.”
Watson puffed up like an adder. “But—”
The sheriff warned firmly, “Say good night, Mr. Watson.”
Instead, Watson turned to William Best. “One day, Best. One day.”
Ignoring him, Mr. Best said, “Good night, Sheriff, and no apologies needed. We know you’re just doing your job, as distasteful as it may be.”
Sheriff Lawson smiled wanly. “Thanks.” He then told Watson and his companion, “Let’s go.”
Once Watson was gone, the fuming Cecilia Best declared, “Open every window in the house. I refuse to sleep with that man’s stench in my nostrils. Keen nose, my foot. Can he smell soap and water?!”
Everybody chuckled. The tension was broken. Cecilia marched back up to her room. The rest of the family gladly opened the windows, then went back to their beds.
Very early the next morning, a frantic Bea Meldrum arrived at the Bests’ front door bearing terrible news. “Watson’s got the Morgan boys.”
Belle, standing with the Bests in the doorway, felt her stomach sicken.
Cecilia Best whispered, “Dear Lord.”
“When?” Mr. Best demanded.
“Last night, real late. No warrant, no trial. He just took them.”
“Must’ve been after they were here,” Mr. Best said angrily.
Daniel asked his father, “Do you think Adam and Jere may have said something about delivering the crate?”
His father shrugged. “Who knows? Watson doesn’t need an excuse. Maybe he’s trying to replace those slaves that escaped in Ohio. Did anybody notify the sheriff, Bea?”
Bea nodded. “Yes, but he says there’s nothing he can do. Watson’s got a good four hours’ start on him. Those boys could be anywhere.”
Cecilia asked, “What about their mother, did they take her, too?”
“She’s unharmed, but was left behind, tied up. She’s heartbroken, of course.”
Belle couldn’t believe her ears. She saw that Jojo had tears in her eyes.
Bea’s voice was grim. “The Vigilance Committee’s going to meet soon as everyone can get to the church. I’ll see you and Dani there.”
She left to further spread the tragic news. William and Daniel hurried off to change out of their nightclothes and head over to the meeting.
Belle didn’t understand how this could happen. “But aren’t Adam and Jeremiah free?”
Cecilia nodded. “Yes, but the act doesn’t care.”
“Isn’t there something we can do?”
“Pray that the committee can find them and somehow bring them home.”
Cecilia walked over and pulled her teary-eyed daughter into her arms. Jojo held on to her mother tightly, then whispered sadly, “Oh, Mama, why can’t they just leave us alone?”
Mrs. Best leaned down and kissed Jojo’s brown forehead. “Don’t cry, sweetling. We’ll find them, and one day soon slave catchers will be a thing of the past.”
But when? Belle wondered angrily. When?
After the Morgans’ kidnapping, a tense watchfulness spread over the community. In addition to Jeremiah and Adam, six
other people were taken South by Watson: two men, a woman and a father and his two young sons. The Vigilance Committee met until late that evening, and according to the report Daniel and Mr. Best gave the family upon their return home, every conductor on the line, from Michigan southward had been alerted to keep an eye out. With any luck, Watson would be waylaid and his victims rescued, but no one knew if more kidnappings would follow, so women were instructed to hang out the quilts that signaled the area temporarily unsafe for fugitives, and the freedom lamps of the miniature jockeys were extinguished all over the county. People stayed close to home, and at night, the men sat with shotguns at the ready in case they needed to defend their families.
On Saturday, Belle and the Bests piled into the wagon and made the drive to Detroit for a rally at Second Baptist Church. The rally had been scheduled many months ago, but now with the kidnappings fresh in everyone’s mind, many more people planned to attend.
It was Belle’s first opportunity to see the area’s abolitionists gathered en masse, and it was impressive. Almost two hundred folks of all races and genders had traveled to the church from as far away as Dayton, Ohio, and Amherstburg, Ontario, to attend. They came bearing banners that decried slavery, and offering donations to the committee to help with the search for the Morgans and the others. Representing Detroit’s all-Black committee were the famous William Lambert and George DeBaptiste. The Detroit group, also known as the Order of the African Mysteries, had transported thousands of runaways to freedom and, according to Mrs. Best, were one of the most secretive abolitionist organizations in the country. Their coded communications and cryptic doings had become the model for vigilance communities everywhere. Both Lambert and DeBaptiste spoke eloquently and forcefully. In addition to denouncing slavery and those who profited from it, they urged the gathered crowd to arm themselves against the slave catchers, so as to meet force with force when necessary, as the good citizens of Christiana, Pennsylvania, had done in 1851. DeBaptiste then quoted Daniel’s idol, the great Frederick Douglass, by saying the only good slave catcher was a dead one. When he concluded, his rousing remarks were met with enthusiastic shouts and applause from the crowd.