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**This was an assignment I wrote last year. It's three peoples perspectives on one scene. Enjoy!**
Kalli age 17
"Not to much farther. Quarter mile at the most."
"Okay. I’ll make." I stared at William and wondered if he would. His leather-like fingers clutched our sack of food. "That last woman was very kind. And a great cook."
"Yes, I’ve never had such soup."
We walked in silence, our tired, sore feet never daring to step on anything that would reveal our presence.
Standing in the swaying grass he pointed, "That’s it. See the lantern?" William smiled to himself. "Next stop." His fist reached up and gave three knocks on the door of a small farmhouse.
"Who is it?" A muffled voice asked.
"A package Ma’am." William replied in a business voice that didn’t suit him.
The door opened and revealed a quiet, calm room. A fire burned in a corner and a young girl sat in a rocking chair sewing a quilt. A short woman ushered us in. "Here, in here." She reached her hand into a small crack in the north wall. The wall swung open and inside lay a room so tiny that if I had been the same size of William we would of never fit. We squeezed inside.
"We’re getting close Kalli. Maybe just a month more and we’ll be in Canada, safe in Canada. No more runnin’. We’ll do whatever we want whenever we feel like it." I knew he was saying all this for his own good, not necessarily for me. "And I’ll build up a house for us and…and…" His head flopped over and those soft eyes closed.
"Good night." I whispered into the darkness.
Sarah age 13
Mother told me. She wanted me to be quiet. "I will." I had said. Promises are stupid. Mother expects me to be quiet while we’re harboring runaway slaves! Impossible. I’m not so ignorant that I’d run off to the school yard and report this news to my classmates, but to think of how interesting it would be to just sit and hear their stories. Childish wishes they are, but if I am a young woman that doesn’t mean my childish spirit has completely left.
I asked Mother if I could at least see them.
"They’re not animals to stare at."
"I understand that Mother. But I can’t control my curiosity. Please. I will work on my quilt." My eyes showed my desperation. Mother’s weakness- sad eyes.
"Stay back. Be quiet. Work on your quilt." She eyed me. But once again, my innocent look prevailed.
That entire evening I sat, sewing, waiting. I knew to fear the sound of the door being knocked on, anyone could be there. Slave-catchers. My back straightened like never before when the sound finally echoed through the room. Mother hurried to the door and warily opened it. "Who is it?"
"A package Ma’am."
I knew the code. My mother was called a conductor. The slaves were packages. Stations meant safe houses. And Jesus was Canada, freedom.
A tall man (probably forty years old, or there about) hurried in, his hand holding on to a young woman’s. Mother showed them to the hidden room and they squeezed inside.
"Darling." Father said. "your mother and I are going to milk the cows." This meant Father wanted to talk to Mother, alone, without disturbances. "We’ll be back soon enough to feed those folks."
"I’ll be fine, sir." They left the house and my mind drifted off again to the thoughts of just spending five minutes with them. I stood. I might never get another chance like this. I thought. Mother and Father will never find out. I crept over to the wall. My fingers burned as I reached for the crevice.
A loud bang on the door startled me.
"Open up! We have a warrant to search this house under the suspicion of harboring slaves!"
Robert Jenkins age 36
Slaves stay slaves. That’s the way things work. It’s the way thing should always work. Buck Rogers, a plantation owner and a good friend of mine had lost a few slaves about a month before.
"I understand that you hunt down slaves?"
"Yes." I had said. "You pay me twenty dollars now. The rest will come when I’ve caught them."
"Good," Buck greedily rubbed his hands together.
"Do you want them back dead or alive?"
"Alive. Alive is fine. When I get to them they’ll just wish they were dead." The man chuckled and gave me the money.
I tracked those slaves for a month. Moving through the states, breaking in and searching so many houses it would be impossible to number them. Every time I broke in the owner would sink down and shake, I bet almost all of them had something to hide. Thing is, I didn’t have time to find out what that was.
My legs were tired after a long day in my saddle. Four other slaves were on the run. But the only thing on my mind was the man and his younger niece.
I guided my horse and small posse of men to a farmhouse far away from any town. The house had been under suspicion for quite a while. I dismounted and my sore legs carried me to the door. "Open up!" One of my men shouted while pounding on the door. "We have a warrant to search this house under suspicion of harboring slaves!"
A girl, young in a calico dress came to the door. "A search, here? Why that’s absurd! Excuse me sir, but my family has nothing to hide."
"Let us in." I pushed past her and walked through into a room so plain I didn’t see how anything could of been hidden. Everything was neat and in order. An unfinished quilt lay on a rocking chair in one corner, a table and several chairs in another. I checked the table for any hidden levers but found nothing. "Girl?"
"Yes, sir? The girl showed innocent blue eyes.
"How many are in your family? The stove has to much food for just your parents and you."
"I have four brothers. They’ve been out working all day and are ready for a large meal." The girl sat and picked up her quilt as if she was uninterested in the fact that her house had been invaded. "Are you satisfied? My family enjoys our evenings in peace."
"One more thing." I said noticed a crack in the north wall. "What’s this?" I began walking toward the crack.
"Oh, that’s a mark that was made when the wood for that wall was cut. My mother often complains at the ugliness of it all, but there’s nothing we can do."
"I see. Men?" I said turning. "Let’s camp for the night. I know those slaves are around here somewhere. They won’t be safe until I get them. Come, lets go."
We left the house. I felt a new determination. They were around here somewhere. Tomorrow, they’ll be in my hands tomorrow. I thought.
Epilogue
Sarah
I did it. They’re safe. And I just know, somehow I just know, they’ll make it to Canada. I leaned back in my seat. Lord, I prayed. I’m sorry I lied. It was to save lives.
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