Stealing South

. . . the Railroad's character was engraven, as by a pen of fire, in the hearts and consciences of men, burning deeper and deeper. . . . H. U. Johnson From Dixie to Canada Remember, Tom, if you hear horses, don't speed up, no matter what." "I know, Will. You told me that at least five times on the last ride." "The last ride was practice," I replied. "This one's for real. We have a passenger under the floorboards, so you've got to be careful." We sat in Papa's wagon heading north from Atwater to Ravenna, a trip I'd made so often, I could have dropped the reins, for my horses knew the way. But this time my horses weren't doing the pulling and my hands weren't holding the reins. My younger brother, Tom, was making his first trip, and I was making my last in the dim light of a quarter moon. "That Noah, he seemed pretty scared," Tom said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You'd be scared too, if you were all alone in a strange Northern place, getting hauled from hither to yon by folks you didn't know. He didn't look much older than you, Tom. Imagine that." "No thanks. I'd just as soon stay put. Lucky for me, I can." We were lucky, I thought, at least Tom was. He liked Atwater, Ohio. Loved the land and the life of a farmer. Course, him loving it was lucky for me as well, for it meant Papa could count on Tom for help in the fields and would allow me to leave. Tomorrow at first light I would begin my new life. But I had one last trip to make, and there wasn't a soul I'd rather be making it with than Tom. I'd been driving for the Railroad on dark nights like this one for years and was leaving my route to my brother. As if reading my thoughts, he started in on me again, trying to talk me out of it. "You sure you really want to leave home? Think of Mama's cooking! A peddler's wagon can't be very comfortable, compared to our house. It's going to be mighty lonely with just your horses to talk to." "My team's got more sense than most folks," I said. "A little peace and quiet will be a nice change from all the biddies of Atwater grinding our names in the mud." Until three years ago, I'd liked our town and most of the people in it. But that was before my sister Lucy got herself caught transporting a slave baby north to Canada and claimed she was the child's mother to save its life. After that, Lucy couldn't come back, and now half the town treated the rest of us Spencers like we'd caught the plague. Somehow, it didn't bother Tom like it did me. He was kind of a duck, and the whispers and rumors rolled right off his back like water. Me, I answered every snub and insult with my fists, and I'd gotten tired of it all. "Will, the Reverend told me Noah's been chased on his trip north," Tom said, his voice still quiet. "He's heard hounds baying and had to wade the creeks several nights." That made me sit up straight. "All the more reason for us to be careful, then. You got your excuses ready if somebody stops us." "Who's going to believe some girl would want me to come calling?" Tom demanded. "Even if I liked the notion, which I don't." "Give it a year or two," I said, grinning. "Girls ain't so bad. Might even find you like kissing." Tom rolled his eyes. "You won't get me kissing some girl. Trading spit, that's all it is." "Maybe. But how will you know unless you give it a try?" I'd kissed a couple of girls and liked it just fine, but I was sixteen, nearly grown. Tom was just coming up on thirteen and still had a lot to learn. His elbow poked me hard in the ribs just as my ears caught the sound of distant hoofbeats. He tensed beside me and I listened carefully. Sounded like more than one horse, and the riders were coming from behind, theAyres, Katherine is the author of 'Stealing South' with ISBN 9780440418016 and ISBN 0440418011.