Page 77 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

He grinned. “You bet.” He closed the carriage door, climbed into the driver’s seat, and scooted over, making room for me.

A moment later, he guided Betty Sue into the morning traffic of carriages, wagons, bicycles, and carts. And people of course. I doubted I would ever be in a place again where I would see so many people of all kinds. It was quite different than Amherst.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Buford said.

I smiled at him. “I was just thinking about how different this place is from my home. I hope that I will be back someday, but I don’t think that is likely to happen.”

He nodded. “It’s impossible to know what the future holds, but I do hope that we see each other again. You are a kind girl, Miss Willa.”

I smiled. “I think you would have really liked my brother.” And then, I found myself on the ride to the station telling Buford everything from Henry’s death to the diary to learning Mr.Johnson hired him to be a spy to help the abolitionist cause.

As I spoke we passed the White House. I took in all the sights and committed them to memory as the words spilled out of me.

Finally, we reached the train station and people ran this way and that as they departed and arrived in the capital.

Buford pulled back on Betty Sue’s reins and jumped from the driver’s seat like he was a spry young man, not a gentleman with gray in his beard. He tied off Betty Sue at a hitching post and removed my bag from the carriage as I climbed down from the driver’s seat.

Buford handed me my bag. “Your brother was doing good work, and he lived up to his name Noble as he died for a noble cause. Don’t you forget that.”

Holding tightly to my carpetbag, which held my brother’s diary, I promised him I wouldn’t.

“We might not see each other in this life, Miss Willa, but I will be seeing you someday at our good Lord’s feet. It’s hard to know who will be there when the day comes, but you, you, I am sure will show up there someday.”

Tears gathered in my eyes, and I held my hand out to him.

He squeezed it briefly in both of his own. “You’re train is waiting.”

“I’m glad I can call you my friend.” I turned and walked toward the train station.

I looked back one more time before stepping through the door, and both Buford and Betty Sue were watching. Buford held his hand in the air in a motionless goodbye.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When the train came to a stop at Amherst Station, I let out a sigh of relief. The trip back home had not been as pleasant as the one down. Due to a spring storm and trees falling on the tracks, the trip had been delayed by a day. All the passengers had to wait on the train until the tracks were cleared. I had never felt so trapped in my life and I had ridden in third class. The woman who sat next to me snored and drooled most of the trip. She was also in the aisle seat, so anytime I had to get up, I had to wake her. She was not pleased by that, to say the least.

With my carpetbag in hand, I jumped off the train. It may not have been the most ladylike exit, but it felt like an escape. I hurried from the station set on going to the post office to bring home the Dickinson family mail.

I had just walked out of the station when someone called my name. “Willa!”

I spun around and saw Catherine Dwight walking toward me. She was in a light blue dress as if spring was just around the corner. After being in Washington D.C., the Massachusetts air felt cold to me.

She walked up to me. “How dare you?”

I stared at her. “Catherine, is something wrong?”

“Yes, there is something wrong. My father is now convinced that I planned to run away and marry your brother. I cared about Henry, but I would have never done that. However, multiple people who are friends with the Dickinsons have asked him if I was betrothed to Henry. He’s furious with me, and there is nothing I can say to convince him I was not secretly engaged.”

“I don’t...” I trailed off because I remembered the letters Emily sent to her friends about Henry and Catherine. I closed my eyes. “This is just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that you and Emily Dickinson caused!” she shouted.

Several people coming out of the station glanced our way.

“To make matters worse, others are asking if my brothers would have hurt Henry to stop our elopement! My brothers would do no such thing. They are good and upstanding Christian men.”

“I’m sorry, Catherine.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Think about what you are doing working for a woman like Emily Dickinson. She doesn’t care about you. Your life and everyone’s life is just an amusement to her. You should remember that.” She burst into tears and marched away.

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