Page 40 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

Chapter Fifteen

The next night, I stumbled into my small room in the Dickinson home and fell into my bed with my shoes still on. Somehow Emily had convinced her brother to get a ticket for me to accompany the family to Washington. She claimed that she would be more comfortable traveling if she had my help, and without me, she would not go. Since Mr.Dickinson very much wanted his eldest daughter to see Washington, the family agreed.

But not everyone was happy about it, namely Miss Lavinia.

Margaret was upset, too, because she would be left alone to do much of the work in the home. So for the last day, she had put me through my paces and had me work double time before I left with the family on tomorrow’s afternoon train. The compromise was, I would not accompany Emily to Philadelphia and during that three-week time would do all the work that Margaret planned for me in the original five-week period.

Even though every muscle in my body ached, my mind would not rest. It thrummed with anticipation over the adventure I was about to embark on the next day. I had never been so far from home before. I hadn’t even been to Boston in my lifetime. My whole existence had been within thirty miles of the spot I lay at that moment. Tomorrow, I would be traveling hundreds of miles.

Who would have ever thought that would happen to me? Perhaps Henry had. He’d had the capacity to think that large. He was open to possibilities. I was not, or at least, I had not been until he died.

Thinking of Henry, I sat up in my bed, kicked my shoes off of my sore feet, and reached under my mattress for his diary. As hard as it was to read my brother’s words, I knew that I must. I opened the book and let it fall open to an early page. I thought that if I read the entries in random order, it might be less painful for me to “hear” my brother’s voice again.

January 2, 1855

Her name was Belinda. She was the first runaway that I met in person. She came to the stables just like I thought would happen. All the signs were there that runaways were being directed to the stables with the purpose of trapping them. They believe it is a safe haven on the railroad, but it is not.

They were being chased into a net. It turns my stomach to think of how many people this happened to before we were made aware of it.

What I don’t know is how Johnson was spreading these lies that the stables are safe. No one would believe Johnson. Anyone on the railroad would take one look at him and know he was on the wrong side of this. I hate to judge a man, but he’s mean and looks mean. Something evil oozes off that person like a living and breathing sore.

There must be someone else involved, someone that people trust and would listen to. But who?

How many men, women, and children were so close to freedom to be caught this far north and sent back? I try not to dwell on those thoughts for too long or they will overcome me. If I am overcome, I will not be able to keep others from the same fate. When this is all over, I will let the tears fall. Until then, I must hold fast.

My employer is happy with the work I have done and has agreed with me that Johnson is part of all of this, but there is a second man involved. We don’t know who that is yet. It is my job to find him. When I do, we will be able to put a stop to Johnson and this man and will have saved countless lives.

I just don’t know how to find this other person, but I must.

As for Belinda, I pray she is safe in Canada now, but I can never know for sure what happens to those we help. When I first told her to leave the stables, she did not believe me. I do not blame her. I’m a white man. Why would she believe me? White men had hunted her for weeks. If Jeremiah had not been there to back my story, she surely would have been caught and sent back. I have to believe that she made it. I have to believe that this wasn’t all for nothing.

It was the end of the entry, and I was too tired to read on. I set the diary aside, blew out the candle, and fell asleep fully clothed.

—

I had never been on a train before. There had never been any reason to be. I was born in Amherst and lived there my whole life. Everywhere that I had ever gone, I could walk to. The number of carriage rides I had been on could be counted on one hand. Mrs.Patten hadn’t believed in me using the carriage or a wagon for boardinghouse errands. And in truth, I had been so intimidated by the stern woman, I had been afraid to ask.

I stood on the platform a few feet from Mrs.Dickinson and her daughters, holding an old carpetbag that had been my mother’s. All of my worldly possessions were inside it, except for my brother’s diary, which I kept close to my body.

Very early that morning, I woke and had sewn a snug pocket on the inside of my cloak to keep the diary safe.

The Dickinsons’ many trunks and cases were already inside the train, as a porter had arrived at the Dickinson home this morning to transfer them to the station.

Steam blew out from under the locomotive, and black smoke billowed out of the engine’s chimneys. A conductor stood at the head of the train speaking with the soot-covered man in the engine room. The conductor wore a double-breasted wool jacket and a flat-topped hat. A gold chain ran from pocket to pocket on the right side of his jacket. His hat did not protect his ears from the cold wind, and they were bright red. He nodded at something the train engineer said and started toward the Dickinson family.

“Mrs.Dickinson.” The conductor greeted Emily’s mother with a smile. “It is a pleasure to have you and your family on the train today. The station is indebted to Mr.Dickinson for all he has done. Without him, we wouldn’t have this lovely station right here in Amherst. We will give you and your daughters the utmost care on your journey to show our thanks.”

Mrs.Dickinson gave him a nervous smile, and I started to think she wasn’t looking forward to this trip at all. “We appreciate your kindness. We are grateful for this station just as much as you are. Travel is challenging enough. It would be made much more so if we had to travel farther afield to meet the train.”

Emily spoke up, “You must also know that my father advocated for this station for purely selfish reasons as well. He travels for business often. It is much easier for him to do that with a station in Amherst.”

The conductor laughed. “I don’t know many young women who would come out and be so blunt about their father’s motivations.”

“More should,” Emily said. “When you understand better why a person does something, you can appreciate it more.”

The conductor seemed to consider this and regarded Emily with a peculiar look on his face. It was an expression that I had seen often on listeners when they were around Emily. It was a mix of confusion and awe. It was as if they couldn’t believe what she had just said and at the same time, they didn’t quite understand it either.

The conductor noticed me then. “And who is this?” He eyed me with suspicion.

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