Rocks and Feathers

Written by Elsa Darcy

The lantern swung lazily on the porch as Reverend Elijah Gray surveyed the land around his small Pennsylvania property. The wooden boards creaked in rhythm with his rocking chair as he enjoyed the tranquility of the night. His wife had taken the two children to her sister's home, and Rev. Gray was enjoying his solitude. His eyes slid from the hues of daybreak growing in the sky to the lantern that continued to swing mildly overhead. The year was 1848, and the lantern was a beacon that the Gray house was a safe house, or station, on the Underground Railroad.

The conductor and the group arrived just as the Reverend's pocket watch broke the silence. He smiled at their punctuality, and stood to greet his guests.

"The stationmaster is black!" said one refugee to another in astonishment. The Reverend understood their surprise. It was a rarity for these poor souls to see a land-owning free black man.

Before long they all sat around a table hidden away from windows in the back parlor, where they were fed and given pitchers of fresh water. The group was mostly young men who had the strength to endure the long journey, where walking 15 miles in a night was common. There were a few women, one in particular caught the Reverend's attention. She had given her seat to a young man who accompanied her, and helped him to feed himself.

The conductor whispered quietly to Rev. Gray, "His name is Tom. Mother is Bertha. Poor man's as simple as they come. Bashed in the head when he a boy by an overseer. Can't take care of himself. They as poor as church mice too, and that Tom has a mighty fearful temper."

The Reverend nodded complacently and poured stew into a spare clean bowl. He placed the bowl before the woman who knelt at the table and smiled at her kindly. Clearing his throat, he moved to the head of the table to speak to the eleven escaped slaves.

"Welcome, my brothers and sisters. I am the Reverend Gray. I am thankful you have nearly completed the journey to Canada safely. If you have any wounds that need attending, please let me know. My wife has prepared chicken stew. We keep a small number of the birds on the property, and..."

"Chickens mama! Mama loves chickens! I'm gonna fetch a chicken for Mama!" Tom exclaimed excitedly. His mother soothed him and the Reverend smiled.

"Forgive me, you are tired. I have a tendency to ramble. There are cots in the cellar, as well as extra blankets. There is a swinging window in the cellar that doesn't latch and it lets the cold in. I'm sorry I can't do more, however it is not uncommon for parishioners to visit throughout the day. Not all people, even in this part of the North, are as understanding as they should be. Come along, follow me."

Those that had finished eating were escorted downstairs into the cellar. When he returned, only four of the group remained at the table. The older man spoke as the Reverend entered the room.

"I won't be sleeping near him!" He pointed a withered finger at a man who sat across the table, eating his stew in silence.

A younger man spoke up as well. "He stoled money, but not from the white folk. He stoled from other slaves; sinned to get to salvation!"

Rev. Gray sat at the table and asked for their names. The old man was Barley, the younger, Joseph. The accused didn't answer.

"His name is Ro, the dirty thief!" Barley spit the words across the table. Ro continued to eat his stew, saying nothing.

Calmly, the Reverend asked Ro if he had indeed stolen the money. Ro shook his head slowly.

"Thats a lie!" Joseph snarled.

Suddenly Ro lunged across the table. Bertha and Tom quickly went into the cellar. Old man Barley attempted to end the fight but was knocked down. Rev. Gray shouted a demand to stop that bellowed from his deep, baritone voice. Barley and Joseph brushed themselves off, cast angry looks at Ro and went down into the cellar. The Reverend brought a spare cot and blankets, and guided Ro to a secret room within the chicken coup.

"This is the best I can offer you. Whatever your disagreement with those men might be, I can't risk the exposure of all our brothers and sisters. I will not tell anyone that you are here, so you won't be disturbed. Here is fresh water and some bread."

"Thank you Reverend," Ro said with sincere gratitude as he lay down to sleep.

Rev. Gray stepped outside and watched as dawn peaked over the horizon. He was weary from the excitement, and decided he deserved a short nap. He entered his room, closed the door, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He awoke to a loud shout. Rev. Gray rushed to the window that overlooked the back of the property. The door to the chicken coop was wide open, and a man lay sprawled on the grass. The Reverend went swiftly down the stairs to the kitchen. Before he had reached the back door he saw Bertha and the conductor sitting on the floor beside it.

"What happened?" Rev. Gray asked.

The man on the ground was Ro, apparently dead from a blow to the head. Feathers littered the ground, and a bloody stone lay next to the corpse. Rev. Gray looked over at Bertha, who stood in the doorway, her dress stained red. She gripped her arms and rocked back and forth on her heels.

"Just like they done to my po' Tom. The po' babe, po' boy."

Ro's body was wrapped in a blanket, carried into the house and put in the cellar. The Reverend had no intention of letting a murderer leave his property. Nearly everyone had been woken by the same shout, at which point they noticed Bertha, her son Tom, Barley and Joseph were missing. The conductor stated that when he went to investigate the sound, he found Barley and Joseph in the kitchen, and Bertha outside trying to wake Ro. Tom had not yet been located. The entire group turned suspicious eyes on Barley and Joseph, who stood against the cellar wall.

"We was just talkin'," Joseph said frightfully, looking to Barley. "Barley and me was talkin' 'bout what we was gonna do in Canada!"

"Its true!” Barley said. “Don't look at me that way... we were just talkin'. I wouldn't be ‘shamed if I’d killed that good-for-nothing thief, but we had nothin' to do with it. I didn’t even know where he was sleepin’. Joseph didn’t either."

The Reverend paused thoughtfully. "Usually men are killed for gold. Conductor, please check Ro's person for his money."

The conductor searched the dead man's pockets while Rev. Gray watched the uneasy refugees. Suddenly there was a bang and Tom appeared in the corner of the cellar. Bertha rushed over to her son as the conductor announced there was no money on the body. The crowd erupted with accusations.

Bertha called, "The money's in his jacket!" She emerged from the darkness, her son remaining in the shadowy corner. "When I was tryin' to save him, his jacket was heavy, so I knew there were coins in there," Bertha explained. The conductor tapped Ro's jacket and heard the distinct clinking of coins.

"Sewn into the cloth, Reverend."

Rev. Gray noticed a floating feather emerge from the shadows behind her. The Reverend looked around Bertha towards Tom in the corner, but she stepped sideways to block his view. Softly but authoritatively he said, “Tom, would you come over here, please?"

The cellar grew silent as Tom shuffled into the light cast by the lanterns. His shoes were covered in feathers. The Reverend smiled sorrowfully. "Tom, how did you get out of the cellar?"

"The swingin' window. Mama come too, but she done fall down. Not fast like Tom. Silly mama."

"Why were you in my chicken coop, Tom?" the Reverend asked.

"Mama loves chickens!" Tom said. "Mama wants chickens. Tom fetch a chicken fo' mama.”

"Bertha," Rev. Gray spoke calmly. "Why did you go outside before anyone heard Ro shout?"

The woman paused anxiously before proceeding. "I heard a scuffle and saw po' Ro bleedin' from his head."

"Barley, Joseph, did you see Bertha pass you?"

The two men shook their heads.

"I killed him!" she shouted.

"Why?" someone cried.

"Wanted money."

The Reverend looked at her with pity and said, “It is obvious who killed him.”