TWO #2
The woman glanced at her pack and then came around the counter, delighted. “Oh, welcome. It’s been many years since we’ve seen the Howards. How are Levi and Abigail? Sorry—I forgot myself.” She held out her hand. “Ruth Newlin. Mr. Newlin is my father.”
Maggie shook her hand. “Maggie Ackerman. Um, well, Levi and Abigail are why I’ve come.”
Concern filled Ruth’s face. “Let me fetch my father. He just stepped out. Would thee care to sit down? Go around back to the kitchen. I’ll make some tea when I return.”
In a flurry of skirts, Ruth rushed out of the door, leaving Maggie alone in the store. Feeling a bit awkward, she went into the back as Ruth directed. There was a tiny kitchenette area with a wood stove and a small round table.
Peering around the corner, she could see a cot set up in the pantry adjacent to the stove.
The back door was shut, but she could see an alley out of the window.
Maggie still didn’t know what to do with Mary’s ‘gift’.
She couldn’t just set it down on the table.
Deciding that the sink was the only plausible place, she set them down gently and wiped her hands.
Sitting at the table, she eagerly helped herself to the newspaper folded on it. It’d been a while since she’d heard any news, and she was anxious to learn the status of the war.
The heading ‘SHERMAN BURNS FAYETTEVILLE’ burned into her eyes. He was still marching.
“The Confederate arsenal is gone in Fayetteville. It’s likely that Raleigh will soon be on the list. Seventy miles or so east from here— thought I’d save you the trouble of reading that lengthy article,” a voice interrupted.
She jumped, startled. An elderly man, late sixties if Maggie had to guess, stood in front of Ruth.
Maggie hadn’t heard the back door open. “Miss Ackerman, I presume?” He stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Yes, sir. Maggie, if you’d rather. Is Ashboro in danger?”
“Maggie,” He smiled. “Oh, no, no. I don’t believe so. We’re too small a community to attract Sherman’s attention.” Seeing that Maggie was reassured, he continued. “My daughter tells thee has news of our Friends. Please, have a seat. Ruthie dear, pour some tea, if thee is so kind.”
Ruth quickly took charge, setting the kettle on the stove.
“Er, Ruth? Before you do that, you may want to have a look in the sink,” Maggie said awkwardly. “A woman I met on the way into town, Mary Burson, said to give them to you. I wasn’t sure where you wanted them…”
Ruth peered into the sink and laughed. “Ah, yes. Mary is a bit funny, but very kind. Thank thee, Maggie. I’ll handle them later.”
Mr. Newlin didn’t seem put off by the strange introduction, so Maggie turned her attention back to him and relayed why she had come. The only part she kept hidden was her attachment to Henry. Mr. Newlin was still, listening to every word, but he didn’t appear surprised.
“Thee has quite a brave journey ahead. Of course, I’ll apprise our Society of this new development and see if there is anything to be done.
Unfortunately, as thee already knows of Jospeh Brown, this is becoming common practice during this heinous war.
We’ll do everything in our power to get Levi and Abigail home, too. ”
Ruth set a steaming cup in front of Maggie and sat down in the other chair next to her father. She reached over and touched Maggie’s hand. “Thee is very brave to take on such a mission.”
“Brave or stupid,” Maggie gave a wry smile. “I’m basing months of travel and all our hope on a general area from one letter. And doing it alone as a single woman. Can’t exactly call that very smart.”
Neither Mr. Newlin nor Ruth laughed. Mr. Newlin leaned forward, very serious.
“Danger lurks in these rural areas. More and more deserters fill the hills the longer the war rages. Hiding in caves, the forest. Desperate to avoid detection.” Mr. Newlin didn’t blink.
“Thee is truly blessed to have arrived unscathed. With the outliers teeming about, things have been rerouted, shall we say. The map that the Howards had was outdated, but there was no way for them to know.”
Maggie thought back to that first night of starting that fire. The only reason she didn’t the second night was pure exhaustion. If a deserter or outlaw had found her alone…The mere thought made bile fill Maggie’s throat. Maybe Elijah’s prayer of protection had worked after all.
“So, what do I do?”
Mr. Newlin sat back. “Well… One option is getting safe passage to Raleigh. The Confederate army comes back and forth to round up the outliers. Thee could wait until Sherman’s army comes—”
Maggie began to fear that, despite his courageous effort with the Underground Railroad, Mr. Newlin didn’t fully appreciate the situation.
“With all due respect, I really need to get north faster than waiting on a chance that the Union army will come. Besides, I’m not sure that General Sherman, or anyone in his company, would heed my plea while they burn Raleigh to the ground.
You said that was one option. Is there another? ”
He hesitated. “The only other way North is going to be dangerous. Much more so than thee has encountered. I don’t believe that thee will manage alone.”
His words penetrated deeply, destroying the little hope that Maggie had been banking on. She blinked back tears. Had she come all of this way for nothing?
Before she could find an excuse to leave the table, Ruth blurted out, “Has thee heard of the Red Strings?”
Maggie stared blankly at her.
“The Red Strings—”
“Ruth, I don’t see how this will help. ‘Heroes of America’?” Mr. Newlin scoffed.
Ruth continued undeterred. “—are a group birthed in Raleigh. They share some similarities with our Society. They favor peace and seek to end this war. Their methods are a bit…different, but the goal is much the same. They’ve been known to help pro-Unionists travel north.”
And this didn’t come up before? Maggie wanted to scream.
“The only problem is that no one knows how to locate them,” Mr. Newlin said point-blank.
Ruth grimaced. “That may be true. The members are only speculated, as no one can be directly tied to such a group, as thee can imagine.”
Maggie’s patience was growing thin. It was all she could do to keep her temper in check. “Can this mysterious group help me or not?”
“I believe so, yes. And I know the person to help you.” She pointed at the sink where the dead squirrels lay. “Mary Burson.”
They both looked at her as if she had gone mad.
Hurrying on, she explained, “One of the rumored members is John Pool, a lawyer in Raleigh. When Mary first settled here, she confided that her husband had been brutally killed by an aristocrat living in the city. Targeted because he was an Irish immigrant. John Pool offered to bring a case against him, pro bono. Even after losing the case, he generously gifted a small sum to help her start afresh. It was how she was able to secure her cabin. She’s never mentioned him again.
But when I brought her some dried herbs for her cough last winter, I saw a red strip of cloth hanging from her window.
I didn’t think to ask her about it. It was only when I learned of the rumors of the Red Strings that I guessed at her connection. ”
She paused, but at Maggie’s dumbfounded expression, she continued.
“It’s mostly pure speculation—I realize that.
But even if I’m wrong, Mary could accompany thee north.
It’d provide some level of safety, rather than thee traveling alone.
Mary’s resourceful. Tough. And a good tracker.
If we told her where a few other safe houses were along the way, she could help thee get there.
At least, until thee did come across a Union camp. ”
“Do you think she’d be willing?” Maggie sounded doubtful.
“It’s a chance.”