Leaving Coy's Hill by Katherine A. Sherbrooke

Author:Katherine A. Sherbrooke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2021-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

13

Spring burst once again from nature’s frozen cocoon. Each tree reached out to its neighbor with festooned branches that had been desolate and deformed just weeks before, a kind of poetry blossoming in the sky. The air danced with jasmine and lilac, and the humidity encased my skin in warmth. I wondered anew at my doubts that spring would prevail, at my regular willingness to allow a cold layer of doubt to drive me inward.

I had replied to Harry’s letter, tentatively reopening our communication, testing the strength of the old territory of one friend writing to another. He wrote of the wide and startling beauty of Wisconsin. He described never-ending tracts of open land, pine groves that opened without warning onto acres of wildflowers, the trout jumping from streams as if showing off their glistening silver hides. I found myself wishing I was there with him, enjoying the raw beauty of new territory.

By April, a long six weeks since the Musical Fund Hall scandal, I had pulled myself away from the comfort of Nette’s home and joined several speaking panels in Boston. The heaviness in my stomach slowly dissipated as I discovered that the passing frosts of winter had taken with them the Musical Fund Hall controversy. As far as I could tell, everyone with an opinion had said their piece and miraculously moved on to other more urgent issues, shoring up support for the underground railroad being at the top of the list among many of my colleagues.

The Fugitive Slave Law had produced much of its desired effect on the North, the fear of fines and imprisonment making even some staunch abolitionists suddenly less willing to actively help escaped slaves. Each time a ship arrived from Virginia or the Carolinas with an escapee hiding amongst its cargo, information had to be passed more carefully, plans laid more quietly, even in Boston.

When Anthony Burns snuck off the Sweetwater in March, Garrison and Phillips moved into high gear. Burns had found a way to educate himself thoroughly prior to his escape, much like Douglass, and they saw in him the makings of another great abolitionist leader. But Burns’s slave master was known to be one of the savviest of the South, and not likely to tolerate his escape. The Anti-Slavery Society had pressed all its agents into extra work during these times. I was more than happy to help and found that my colleagues had moved beyond my transgression, appreciating my abilities and diligent efforts above all else, which was an enormous relief.

After a month in Boston, another request for assistance arrived via the post, this one from Susan, who was launching her own insurrection in New York. It felt good to be useful, to once again fill each day to the brim before the clock ticked past sundown, unlike the days at Nette’s, which had stretched like taffy. I would be ever grateful for her support and equally amazed by having needed to indulge in it quite so completely.

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