by

Rebecca Hanson

I wanted to be anywhere but Lawrence, Kansas that May afternoon. The heat and dust were terrible; being different and alone was worse. My Quaker clothes, respectful talk, and peaceful ways didn't set with anyone but my parents, the brethren and Jebediah Cluver.

"Why don't you pick on somebody who defends himself?" he told Thomas Riders and Matthew Lucas.

"His grandpa's an abolitionist!" Thomas declared tossing my tote bag to Matthew.

"Your grandpa's a dirt farmer. Give me that." Jeb took my tote bag out of Matthew's hand.

Jeb knew I was good at other things like doing lessons, and keeping secrets. It must be hard starting school when you're twelve. I never turned him down when he asked for help with his secret plans. A fool-proof way to learn multiplication facts--I told him it wasn't fool-proof and corrected his missed figures. How he could write backwards looking at the chipped glass that passed for a mirror--I showed him the real way to do his letters. He led up to his next secret by talking about food!

"Got any more apples?"

"I thought thee played mumblypeg," I said. My hand couldn't stop the sneeze when he raised a cloud of dust. My eyes opened of their own accord. He laid on his side, next to me, worrying a plump caterpillar with a twig while he bided his time. "Can you keep a secret?" he finallv asked.

"Thee already knows the answer," I said, puzzled.

"I mean a real important one that hasn't anything to do with book learning."

"Thy secret's safe."

"Your folks might get real mad if they found out."

"I won't tell them," I said, already planning to, if the secret turned out to be a hurtful kind. I wasn't near as worried as he looked, glancing over his shoulder every now and again. "Mistress Carey's about to ring the end to lunch," I said when she walked out the door holding the cowbell. I meant to help but he took it the wrong way.

"Forget I said anything, you don't care." He was on his feet and gone.

I forgot my upbringing and yelled after him, "I do too care!" If he heard me, he never let on. When I got inside and scooted next to him, I made sure he did. "If thee cares, I will wait by the privy after school."

"Let's meet down the road; it'll be safer."

Everybody else passed me before Jeb caught up. His horse wasn't winded, neither was mine. At that time, Bud only plodded along. Jeb hopped off when we arrived at the grove of trees. He never let go of Thunder's reins or Bud's when he told me the secret plan. It was my tote bag and Mother's bread he needed for a slave headed north to freedom.

Father was dead-set against the Underground. I didn't think he would shun me like he did Grandfather. But he and Mother wouldn't hear about the plan from me. The tote bag full of bread had to end up in the elm by Republic Creek, or those slaves might be caught or die.

"Fayette's going to be real glad you helped," Jeb said. It'll mean one less chicken coup for him and his lame pa to raid."

I knew where the creek was. Jeb promised a Joe pole so the tree didn't have to be climbed. Mother baked bread all the time. Father could always use extra help with chores. Tests and oral reading happened at the end of every school year. Thanks to Thomas and Matthew's keep-away games, it wouldn't be the first time I came home without the tote bag. Jeb's secret plan wouldn't be hard at all, I decided by the time I got home, did chores and sat down to supper.

"I'm glad thee and me will be going to town on Wednesday," Mother told Father. "I'm low on flour."

"All the women folk must be running low," he said. "Brother Josiah and I plan on taking his back board to the mill on Monday."

It was no time to be proper and quiet. "I can lift fifty pound sacks of feed. Mother and I can go, Wednesday," I said, ignoring Father's grip on the table. "Thee knows I can handle Brother Josiah's morgan and Bud."

Mother stopped my wagging tongue. "Mistress Carey reports thy orations lacking."

Father banged his fist. "Orations? Benjamin speaks out of turn! Invite the woman to see for herself!"

Mother rose quietly and began clearing the table. "Go to the loft, son. Thy father sets a poor example." She never looked at him but he glowered at her. "Thy father's temper has more to do with lawless John Brown being on the loose than thy manners." I collected a taper, climbed the ladder, and decided Jeb would have to find another helper.

Father spoke as my head rested on the pillow. "Perhaps the harrowing can wait. I will have an answer for thee by evening chores, tomorrow."

The next day, I asked Jeb if John Brown had anything to do with the plan.

"As far as you're concerned, no."

"He's leading those slaves, isn't he?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. People say he's a killer."

"My pa says liars caused the rampage in town that set him off at Pottowatomie Creek. Besides, nobody knows for certain who did the killing."

I didn't remind him that dead people don't talk ... nor that Father, Brother Josiah and I might be added to the list. He still accused me of telling Father. "If your pa comes to me and my kin, I'll say you're nothing but a liar!" he promised.

John Brown, killing and liars--sleep became a problem. It was the nightmares that caused dark circles under my eyes. Wednesday morning, Mother thought I was sick.

"Extra molasses will help thy constitution," she said, drizzling a thick pool in my bowl. "Thy father will be home at dusk or at the very least, tomorrow afternoon."

I stirred the porridge in silence, watching the milk turn brown.

"If it were not such a danger, thee knows thy father would have taken thee along. Mark my words, thee has nothing to fear."

"I'll see to the chores." I didn't trust myself to sit there another minute without telling her everything.

At school that morning, Jeb helped me tie Bud to the hitching post. "Take it easy. Nothing terrible is going to happen to you."

"Save thy words." I walked away before he drug me into a shouting match.

Thursday, after school, he almost succeeded. "Don't forget to look for the Joe pole," he said. I bit my tongue to stop the sass begging to come out.

Father was finally back from town when I arrived home. Turned out the grist mill broke down and caused the delay. I did everything proper at supper to show him I was glad he and Brother Josiah were safe.

"Have another slice of bread," Mother told me. "A small, round loaf is baked for thy school social tomorrow. I don't know why thee insisted on using the tote bag instead of a knapsack."

Father looked at me and then at mother. "Benjamin is thrifty, I'm thinking," he said. "So long as he doesn't spare slop to the hog, we've nothing to worry about".

The next morning I made sure to throw extra mash in the pig trough. "Can't I stay home and help in the field?," I asked, knowing he'd say no.

"Thy time will come soon enough. I am a fortunate man to have a hard-working son like thee."

Mother never questioned my behavior either. I usually was the last one up instead of the first. "Enjoy the social," she said, cheerfully handing me the full tote bag.

When I was out of Father's sight, I sealed my fate with a kick to Bud's ribs. He ignored me at fist but when I kept it up, he broke into a lumbering trot that lasted twenty yards. After my legs rested, I did it again and that's how we got to Republic Creek.

It looked more like a river, the way that water rushed. I stayed dry but spray covered Bud's long, thick forelegs. He backed up. "Git!" I said, clamping my knees harder and leaning forward to jerk the reins closer to the bit. I'll dry thee off when we get across," I promised like he understood. "Git!" I hollered forgetting my knee grip in favor of kicking.

For a split second I thought he was going to cross. I should have paid attention to his ears. They must have laid flat --- I never saw for sure. I was half-way up his neck one minute, and in Republic Creek the next with the tote bag slapping my ribs.

It's drawstring dug into my neck like a harness as I struggled across the slippery rocks. Rotted, moldy leaves and dirt never looked so good when I rope-pulled myself to safety on a thorny blackberry vine. My hands didn't hurt until my fingers turned pink; by then it didn't matter. Rawhide doesn't slip any too well, I found out. The instant my head was free, I tossed the tooled leather bag on the ground.

I tried convincing myself that I was done for the day, and by all means done with Jeb's secret plan. Surely the bread was ruined ... I opened the bag to see. The thick crust was damp but it didn't let a finger poke through.

My gaze shifted left, blinked, then shifted right, looking for the Joe pole leaned against an elm. There wasn't any pole and I only saw one spindly sapling. Jebediah Cluver is a liar, I thought, scowling across the creek. There it was, big as anything, the tree and the pole ... but something moved just to the left ... Bud! I watched in horror as the last of his swaying bulk disappeared through the trees.

The whole world and my position in it were ugly, scary things at that moment. I bawled; me, who hadn't shed a tear since I was a baby, four years old. When the tears stopped, it was time to pace.

What would father do? I asked myself. He'd build a bridge from fallen logs ... or find one already draped across, like that one, a stone's throw away. I snatched the tote bag off the ground, tied it to my suspenders, and crashed through the brambles. It was tricky, going from all fours to sitting and back again when I came to branches, but I made it.

The tote bag slid off the end of the Joe pole without a problem. Getting it to land on a limb took more skill than any mumblypeg game I ever watched. Then the rawhide snagged on a bird nest. I held my breath waiting for the whole thing to topple down but it didn't. The warmth of the sun matched my spirits until I rounded the bend. Traitor Bud stood at the hitching post and a school yard full of people stopped everything to stare at me.

"You look terrible!" Sarah Jane Michaels said.

"Was you chased by a bear?"

"Were, Matthew," Mistress Carey corrected him. "Quit leaning on the rail and come over here," she told me. "Stand aside, children, so Benjamin can get through." Jeb didn't have to move because I was a long ways from the dipper he pretended to need.

Mistress Carey's face changed from concerned to peeved, the closer I got. "It looks to me like you were playing hooky, young man," she said. "Those are nothing but bramble scratches on your face, and just look at your clothes. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I was on my way to school, through the woods, when my horse shied and bucked me off. I was out cold until the sun, beating down on my face, woke me up. I ran all the way here."

"And where's your tote bag?"

"I-I must have forgot it." I rubbed my head. "When the branch hit me, the..."

"Bag caught in the tree. I think it's more likely filled with fish. You're soaking wet." Jeb and I didn't think Mistress Carey was funny. "School dismissed!" she turned everyone else's good humor into stunned silence. "Don't move an inch, Master Pringle. I'm getting a blanket, then we're going straight to your house."

Mother stared at me then Mistress Carey. "What's happened? "May I come in?"

"Certainly." Mother held the door for Mistress Carey "Did my son have a problem at the social?"

I suddenly realized the difference between fear and terror. My spine stiffened, and my teeth chattered as I scooted past Mother and headed straight for the loft ladder.

"The social?"

I tossed the blanket in the corner, crawled under the mattress and plugged my ears. The door shut.

"Benjamin Luke Pringle, thy father will speak to thee at close of day. Stay in the loft." The door closed a second time. All I could hear was the kettle bubbling.

Father didn't banish me. He never raised his voice. "All thee had to do was say thee wanted to go fishing. Shame has been brought upon this house and the brethren because of thy foolish, lying act. I am a disappointed man."

"I had to keep my word."

Father shook his head and turned away. "Trust between thee and me is broken. I hope thee takes the call, Sunday meeting."

"But Jeb..."

"Silence."

I didn't eat supper that night. Saturday, I took meals on the porch. Sunday came and I was ready to tell everything at the Meeting. I told myself it wouldn't matter to Jeb, Fayette or John Brown--once a plan was done the secret was over. I didn't know that the Underground had different rules.

"Bounty hunters paid me a visit, yesterday," Brother Josiah spoke clearly from the middle bench. "They said they were after John Brown and a herd of stolen slaves. Puts me to thinking about freedom and what sets men apart from beasts."

That night, in the loft, a curious thing happened. Father gave me the tote bag and there wasn't a crumb of bread in it! I never found out how he got it, but I have my suspicions. He said it was laying in the wagon, and didn't smell one bit like fish! I'm not the only one who can keep a secret and not tell outright lies.

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