Halfway to Freedom
High School: Grades 9–12
Story
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Hannah expected to spend the next day waiting in a woodshed until darkness returned, and she could continue the journey to Canada. As a child, when she heard whispers about the Underground Railroad, she'd imagined a train chugging through a long cave, carrying runaway slaves to the Land of Freedom. She never thought she would run away because she considered herself lucky—that is, as lucky as a slave could be.
One of three slaves on a large farm in Missouri, Hannah had lived in the master's house. While the master and his sons labored on the land side by side with the other slaves, Hannah helped his wife. During the spring planting and the fall harvest, everyone worked in the fields. During the slow seasons, though, when the master could run the farm himself, he hired out the other two slaves. The master's wife would never allow him to hire out Hannah.
Consequently, he regarded the girl as a luxury and, when he couldn't pay his debts, he decided to sell her. Warned of his plans and fearful of an unknown future, Hannah fled.
How Hannah wished the Underground Railroad really was a safe, cozy train under the ground! But no, underground meant secretive, illegal, and very dangerous. She was a smuggler, running away with her own body. At night she traveled furtively through rough country. During the day, she huddled in a barn or a cellar; sometimes she hid in the woods. When the maid greeted her the next morning, though, Hannah saw this day was going to be different.
"Good morning! How did you sleep?" the maid asked. "My name's Mary. Mary Jane Richardson Jones. It looks as though you'll be staying 'til the snow melts. Who guessed we'd have such a blizzard in April? But this is Chicago, after all." Mary began mixing biscuit batter. "Breakfast won't be ready for a bit, so you have time to wash, if you'd like."
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"Yes, please," Hannah answered.
Lifting a kettle from the stove, Mary led the way to a curtained corner with a marble-topped washstand. She poured hot water into the porcelain washbowl. "I've a dress that might fit you. I'll go get it."
The dress fit, and the dark green wool felt wonderful. "Just being clean feels wonderful," Hannah thought, as she returned to the kitchen. "Please give my thanks to the lady of the house," she said to the maid.
Mary laughed mischievously. "You're welcome in my house."
"Your house? You're the lady of the house?" Hannah blurted in surprise. Could this rich man's house really belong to a black family? Then, blushing with embarrassment, she recovered her manners. "I thought you're the maid. I'm so sorry."
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