“Uh, y-yes, sure, but—”
“I told thee to listen close. Thee may go barefoot, which I know thee enjoys, and carry a basket. Pick up some dead-wood for kindling on thy way home, eh? Keep the dress down in the basket. We don’t want anybody offended. There is no hurry. Go across the road to the Lyndons’ woods. Do not gather sticks there, of course; that would be stealing. Saunter about, take pleasure in God’s beautiful creation. When thee is by thyself, put on a black kerchief thy mother will give thee to cover thy hair from the sun. It’s pretty muddy. Thee would do well to roll up thy sleeves and trousers, and pull the dress over’them. A smock to keep thine own clothes clean, understand? Just the same, I suppose thee’ll get thy head and arms and legs mired up.
Downright black, even. Well, I remember how I liked that when I was a kid.” Edmonds laughed. “Till I came back and my mother saw me! But this is a holiday for thee, so that such carelessness will be allowable.” He paused. “If perchance thee pass near the Lyndon house, so they spy thee, don’t linger. Don’t give them a good look, but run past quickly. They’d be scandalized to know young Jacob Edmonds was dressed and mucked like that. Dash back into the woods and bury the dress somewhere. Then circle back to our land and collect that kindling. Thee may take several hours all told.” He squeezed the shoulder and smiled. “How’s that sound, hm?”
His son had strained breathless at his words. Eagerness blazed: “Yes, sir! Wonderful! I can do it!”
Jane touched her man’s arm. “Matthew, dear, he’s only a child,” she protested.
Jacob reddened. Edmonds raised a palm. “There should be no danger to him if he’s as smart as I think he is. And thee,” he said sternly to the face below his, “remember Jesus doesn’t like bragging. Tomorrow I’ll give thee a note to the schoolmaster, that I needed thy help here today. That’s all that either of us has to tell anybody, ever. Got me?”
Jacob stood very straight. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Good. I’d better get back to work. Have fun.” Edmonds stroked his wife’s cheek, softly and briefly, before he went out.
As he crossed the yard, Alien rode over and exclaimed, “What you been doin’?”
“Minding my own business,” Edmonds said. “We have a farm to run, if thee has not heard.” He went on into the shed and took up his task again.
It was near midday and he was growing hungry—Jacob doubtless wolfing the sandwiches Jane would have made— when the dogs barked and Alien whooped. Edmonds strolled into the warm sunlight. Alongside Gabe rode a man with curly brown hair and troubled youthful face. The three of them brought their horses to meet the farmer.
“Good day, friend Peter,” said Edmonds cheerily.
“Hi.” Deputy Sheriff Frayne bit the greeting off. He struggled a few seconds before he could go on. “Matt, I’m sorry, but this man’s gone to Judge Abshire and got a search warrant for your place.”
“That was not very neighborly of the judge, I must say.”
“He’s got to uphold the law, Matt. I do too.”
Edmonds nodded. “Everybody should, when it is at all possible.”
“Well, uh, they claim you’re hiding a fugitive slave. That’s a federal offense, Matt. I don’t like it, but it’s the law of the land.”
“There is another Law, Peter. Jesus Christ spoke it hi Nazareth. ‘The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath set me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.”“
“No more of your preachin’, Quaker!” Gabe shouted. He was tired, sweaty, on edge after so much faring to and fro. “Deppity, do your duty.”
“Search as thee will, thee will never find a slave on this land,” Edmonds declared.
Frayne stared. “You swear to that?”
“Thee knows I can’t give an oath, Peter.” Edmonds stood silent for a spell. Then, in a rush: “But it’d bother my wife and frighten our little ones, having ye ransack the house. So I’ll confess. I did see a Negro woman today.”