Billy Boy (15 page)

He stirred awkwardly, got to his feet, and took a step toward the door.

“Is thee denying war?”

Billy hesitated and turned to her.

“Ma'am?”

“Does thee not wish to fight another?”

“I ain't afeared to fight.”

“It is not fear that I speak about. Does thee understand I am a Quaker?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Please, come and sit down. Let me explain. Quakers oppose all wars. We believe it is wrong to fight—to kill another child of God or to take violent action against anyone. I believe it is honorable that thee chose to walk away from war.”

“Captain sent me away—to another company—away from my friends, who always … well, they help me, and … ” Billy squirmed nervously and finally sat down on the bench, struggling with his words. “Besides, reckon I ain't wantin' to hurt no one—but Pa says folks that kill are doin' the Lord's work and all.”

“God is in each of us, Billy. If thee does not want to hurt anyone, then the spirit of Christ as thee hears it is the truth that shall guide thee.”

“You a preacher lady? You don't seem old enough … Reverend Snow back home, he must be—”

“No, Billy, I'm not a preacher. And I shall be thirty-four next month. Now, tell me more about this Elijah.”

“When I cut out from Livingston's battery I run into the woods by Goose Creek. Leighton says you got to hide in the woods for a time—so the army don't catch you. Thing is, I found Elijah lyin' by the creek.”

“Was he hurt?”

“Hungry is all. I went and fed him what I brung.”

“And thee became friends?”

Billy shook his head. “He thought I was a slave catcher.” He looked at her. “I ain't.”

“If I help Elijah, how does thee plan to get home?”

“Don't rightly know.”

Johanna stood and walked again to the window. “It is late and Elijah must be cold. Bring him to the horse shed across the lane in the woodlot,” she said pointing her finger against the pane. “Be very careful that he is not seen. Stay close to the trees. I will return with food and blankets for thee both.”

The horse shed was lit by candles, and picking up one of the candlesticks, Elijah scanned the small space. It was swept clean of all clutter. Except for a sprinkling of hay over a plank floor, the stalls were empty. Elijah spotted only a single harness on a row of wall pegs, and holding the feeble light above his head, he could find no saddle or bags of feed. He was relieved. The shed was little used. A hinge creaked and Elijah moved the candle toward the sound. Holding the door open with her shoulder, Johanna entered the barn carrying a tray of food; blankets were tucked under her arm.

Elijah stared at the tall woman who called his name.
This missus sho' don't look like Missus Fowler in her fancy silk dress.

“Thee must be Elijah.” Johanna set the tray down on an overturned crate and let the blankets fall from her arm. “I am Johanna,” she said as she glanced at Elijah's bare feet. “Would thee like a soapstone from the woodstove to warm thy feet?”

“They all right, missus.”

“I brought bread and soup.”

Billy yelped with excitement and ran across the barn floor. He reached for a bowl and spoon, grabbed a slice of dark bread, and plopped down on the floor. Elijah stared at the thick slices covered in smooth yellow butter. He hesitated, raised his head, and looked questioningly at Johanna.

“Thee must eat.”

Elijah picked up a piece of bread, touched the creamy butter, and licked it from his finger. “This real good, missus.” He reached for the bowl of soup.

Johanna glanced around the small room. “There is a loft above. Spread your blankets on the hay. Finish eating. I will come by early in the morning. Thee must not leave this shed. There is no meeting for worship until the third day, so thee will not have to worry about people milling about. Not all Quakers—or Friends, as we call ourselves—help runaways find their way to Canada, so thee must always remain in hiding. Tomorrow we will discuss what needs to be done.” She stood and turned toward the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Miss Johanna,” said Billy.

Elijah set his bowl of soup on the floor and hurried across the room, sliding a plank board into the hooks that flanked the barn door as soon as Johanna disappeared from view.

“She's a nice lady—'cept I ain't understandin' her much,” Billy said as he sponged the last of the broth with his bread and placed the empty bowl on the tray.

“Yes, suh, she all right.” Elijah walked slowly across the floor, picked up the blankets, and tossed one to Billy. “Go on up the ladder now, Billy, suh.” Blowing out the candle, he fumbled in the instant darkness, climbed the rungs, and settled on the straw beside Billy.

“Miss Johanna sure talks like a preacher,” Billy said.

A cold rain beat against the shingled roof. Sheltered in the hay, Billy and Elijah listened to the patter of raindrops, pulled the blankets over their heads, and drifted into peaceable sleep.

Chapter 16

E
lijah and Billy watched from the window as Johanna stood in the small graveyard outside the horse shed. She had barely moved in the past half-hour. “What she doin' out there like that? She all right?” Elijah wondered aloud. “You go on out there, Billy, suh, and see if she be needin' sumthin'.”

Johanna turned her head as Billy closed the shed door and walked over to her. “This is the grave of Philip Thomas who died when he was only twenty, way back in 1754,” Johanna said. “He was the first member of our Quaker settlement to be buried in the graveyard.”

“You all right, Miss Johanna? I come out 'cause you been standin' here a long time.”

A smile passed over Johanna's face. “Thee boys need not be concerned. I was holding in the light—praying silently.”

“Ain't you got a church for that?”

Johanna nodded. “Friends hold meetings for worship here, in this brick house. But our worship is different from what thee is accustomed to. Men and women sit on separate sides of the room and wait in silence upon the Lord.”

“Then why you out here all by yourself?”

“To seek God's will by this first grave. In many ways thee reminds me of Philip Thomas; I feel a kinship to him with thee. There is a long history of the Thomas family in this area. Some were disowned as members in our religious society for their participation in the Revolution. It was a family divided on our ancient testimony of peace with all men. So I came here to
pray. I have been struggling with how I might help thee and yet not violate this testimony.”

“Testimony?”

“The Testimony of Peace speaks to our belief that we are against violence of any kind. Friends oppose all wars and participation in military action. It is a belief that guides us in our everyday actions. And I have been waiting here to see this matter as God would see it rather than as human beings would see it.”

“You askin' God about me?”

“I do not ask God; I listen. My truth springs from the leadings of my heart. While I was standing here, beside this grave, awareness filled my soul.”

Billy glanced at her, trying to read the calmness he saw in Johanna's face as she raised it to the morning sun.

“God helped me achieve a sense of clearness,” Johanna said. “It is as if God said to me, ‘Thee must ease the suffering of this young man who is but a victim of this war.' Thee turned away from darkness and into the light, Billy, and I know now what needs to be done.”

“You ain't sore then?”

“I am at peace with my decision.”

Billy sighed, but the comfort of Johanna's arm around his shoulder felt reassuring.

“Run and tell Elijah to stay in the loft while we walk into town. Thee will be leaving soon, and I will not send Elijah away without a pair of boots. These October days are turning cold.”

Billy and Johanna walked down the hillside into a small ravine. Stopping beside a clear spring bubbling across a hollow of fine white sand, Johanna told Billy the spring was a small
tributary of the Anacostia River. Its crystalline water, she said, gave the name Sandy Spring to the early Quaker settlement.

“When we get to Stabler's General Store, thee must speak very little to the proprietor. Mr. Bentley is a kind and decent man and once helped an escaped slave, but Elijah is running with thee, a soldier of war, and that is a different matter. I will let Mr. Bentley think that I am buying boots for thee.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

For the rest of the way Billy and Johanna angled their way in silence up the ravine and onto the gravelly lane that led to the town.

“It is early yet, so I am hoping there will be no one else about at this hour,” Johanna said as they entered the main street. “In spite of the war, we see few strangers here.”

As Billy followed Johanna up the steps into Stabler's, he thought of the general store in Rockville and of pretty blonde Sarah standing in the aisle. But inside Stabler's he saw only a tall, dark-haired storekeeper who turned and nodded at him as he fanned the flames in a potbellied stove and slammed shut its cast iron door.

“Good morning, Richard,” Johanna called as she walked briskly across the floor.

“And a fair morning to thee, Johanna,” Richard Bentley said with a smile. His bushy eyebrows raised in curiosity as he glanced over her shoulder. “Thee has a friend this morning?”

“This is Billy, a friend of Anna Dickinson's, from Philadelphia,” she said. “And most in need of a new pair of boots.”

“A pleasure to meet thee, young man,” Mr. Bentley said, casting a glance at Billy's boots. Again his eyebrows raised and a slight frown crossed his face. “Hmmm … well …,” he muttered as he turned back to the stove. “I must make the coffee,
and then we shall see about new boots. Would thee both like some coffee since thee is about so early?”

“No, I—” Johanna startled at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Billy spun around and saw a short, heavyset man with a thick, graying beard walk into the store.

“Has thee perked the coffee yet, Richard?” asked the bearded man. “A frightfully cold morning. It seems winter may be close upon us. A pleasant morning to thee, Johanna.”

“Ah, Edward … thee shares a cup of coffee with Richard before thee handles the mail?” she asked, smiling.

“Aye, it's coffee and news we share each morning,” said the postmaster. “The telegraph keeps me well informed, and Richard and I discuss the events of this dreadful war.”

“Thee may grind the beans for me, Edward,” said Richard.

Glancing curiously at Billy, Edward removed his wool cap, stuffed it into his pocket, and walked over to the stove. Reaching for a square tin container on the shelf, he opened the lid and measured several spoonfuls of beans into the grinder. “Word is that General McClellan may soon find himself out in the cold. It's rumored that President Lincoln will remove him from command of the Army of the Potomac.”

Billy's eyes widened with curiosity.

Edward carried the ground beans to Richard, who tossed them into the coffeepot and placed it on top of the stove.

“It is as we suspected, then, my friend,” said Richard. “How could Lincoln not grow impatient with McClellan's ineptness in pursuing General Lee's army?” With a wry grin, he glanced at Johanna and Billy. “Imagine two old Quakers so knowledgeable about the strategies of war.”

“In all but the fighting we are,” said Edward.

Billy swallowed hard, glanced quickly at Johanna, and turned to the postmaster. “Army's got a new general?”

Edward's eyes narrowed and he hesitated before he spoke. “Aye, lad,” he said slowly as he held his gaze on Billy. “General Ambrose Burnside. I hear that he has not distinguished himself in battle, but it appears the president has no other promising candidate.” He leaned over the stove and warmed his hands. “This new general speaks of a rapid march south to Richmond.”

“A rapid march?” asked Billy.

“Indeed, the Union troops are moving out as we speak,” answered Edward. “And Burnside claims his grand divisions will take Fredericksburg by Thanksgiving.”

“All the troops moving out to—?”

Billy bit his tongue and glanced at Johanna.

“Thee certainly brings the news to Sandy Spring, Edward,” Johanna interrupted as she reached for the empty mugs on a small pine-board table.

“Oh, and that's not all. Peyton Foster, that ol' scoundrel from Rockville, came into the post office yesterday.”

Taking a mug from Johanna's hand, Edward poured the coffee. “Would thee like a hot cup, Johanna? And thy friend?” Johanna nodded her head, and he handed a steaming mug to Billy.

“Tell me about Peyton,” said Johanna.

Edward sipped loudly. “Oh, yes. Peyton says two fugitives are on the run together—a deserter from the army and a runaway slave. Claims they were headed here. Can thee imagine a more unusual pair!”

Startled, Billy turned quickly to Johanna, spilling some of his coffee across the floor. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Bentley,” Billy stammered. The storekeeper's eyes lingered on Billy for several moments.

“It's no bother, lad,” Richard Bentley spoke in a near whisper. “Thee does not need to worry about a thing.”

Johanna paced nervously across the floor.

“Why would the fugitives come to Sandy Spring?” Johanna asked, moving between Billy and the postmaster, her tall frame blocking Edward's view.

“Thee knows there is talk that some Friends here help runaway slaves. But I fear these abolitionist groups are becoming more and more militant, and I do not believe that we should become entangled in this growing violence. There are more peaceful means to press for the abolition of slavery that Friends can pursue. And doubtless a Friend would not help a soldier of war.”

Johanna opened her mouth to speak, but Richard interrupted. “I long for the day, Edward, that thee will come with telegraph in hand declaring that this terrible war is ended,” he said.