Free Stand the Storm by Breena Clarke

only to titillate himself and would quickly revert to his brutal congress.
    The group that had reached a cozy friendship wanted to resist Daniel’s advice, but dared not. Phillip Ruane’s conceit had spoiled their circle. She must now leave—to let her master have her back or scrabble toward the free north. She couldn’t continue in the warmth of Gabriel, the colored tailor, and his mother and their back room. Phillip Ruane’s advert changed that.
    Mary slid from her chair, pulled her shawl to cover her head and shoulders, then pulled it close all around to obscure her tearful cheeks. She walked out of the back door as small and slick as a mouse.
    To let the girl suffer alone did not suit Sewing Annie. Gabriel sat coolly. Butter would not melt in his mouth from the look of his face. Annie mused that she’d misunderstood him. She thought he had a hanker for the girl. But now he made no move or comment. After a few moments, she followed Mary.
    Daniel Joshua said nothing because he was full of his own plan. He knew how to get from here to the next place for a person making a run. He was putting together a route for Mary in his mind—one that he had been working out in his head for the past days. It was the kind of escape Daniel Joshua liked, for it was planned and clever. He felt a warmth and affection for this particular young woman, too. He liked a good adventure. He liked outwitting the powers. There was some of all of that in it.
    When Mary returned to their circle, pawing at her wet cheeks, Gabriel stared down into his lap and his feelings were contrary. Gabriel Coats did care for Mary in this short time and the loss of her would pinch him. If the plan unfolded, as it ought, this brand-new Mary would be walking in freedom in Canada! She would be lost to him forever. Maybe some word would get back to him or maybe he would one day be free and walk to Canada and find new Mary again. That much good fortune seemed unlikely.
    Gabriel’s uncharacteristic ill ease threatened to give away the leaving plan. For, in the days of preparation for Mary’s journey, he became a restless, pacing man who made frequent trips to the toilet.
    “Aye, Gabriel, has your old mam poisoned you?” Aaron Ridley asked with sardonic jesting on noticing his discomfort.
    “Yes, Master Aaron,” taciturn Gabriel replied with uncommon clever faces. “She has mixed up her dye pot with her stew pot and I am to suffer.” Aaron laughed loudly, for he cherished a low opinion of Annie and was ever eager to express it.
    Daniel Joshua knew a white man committed to his God and the cause of abolition who worked at a crossroads in the state of Maryland some miles north and west of the city. If Mary would get to this cooper, the man would take her up into the western mountains to join a group following bear trails all the way to Cincinnati. Along the string of trails were beads—people and resting places and some food and warmth.
    “Brother Chester—do not say this name aloud, but know it to see it,” Daniel said, and drew the letters of Chester’s name on a piece of paper. “Brother Chester is a saint for the people and he will take you on further,” he said to buoy her spirits. “He will deliver you, for he is on a firm footing with God almighty. Brother Chester and his woman will take you on.”
    Daniel patiently repeated the words to Mary and spelled the letters and impressed this all upon her. She was wanting so hard to stay with Annie and Gabriel that she was a reluctant pupil. Daniel was firm. He traced along the table with his sausage fingers, repeating the names of places on the route and the letters:
C-H-E-S-T-E-R.
    At dusk of the leaving day, Annie helped Mary to dress in layers of dry breeches and wrapped Mary’s breasts and gave her three shirts to wear. She’d last longer on the foot trek if she wore the garments of a man. Annie cut away most of her hair. Plenty of gals would cry at losing their crowning glory. Even one with measly