“Hello, I’m Henry Stanton, Elizabeth, my wife said that you had two bundles you needed help with.”

“Yes, I do.”

He extended his hand, which I shook heartily, in the male fashion. “My wife failed to mention your name, young man.”

“Oh, I am Nancy Winston.”

He stopped and stared at me in the most unseemly manner. “Oh,” he responded hesitantly.

“Follow me, I left the bundles there,” I said, pointing at the wisteria in which my companions were hiding.

Mr. Stanton led us to the stable, where a small room was hidden by a pile of feed bags and hay. Within were a minute table, stools and four cots ingeniously arranged as two pairs of one above the other. As on the boat, there was a curtain, or rather an old blanket, to divide the men’s and women’s sides. He lit a candle and told our “bundles,” “Wait here, and I will have a meal sent as soon as it can be arranged.” Then he led Sandy and me to his home.

Most of the party had disbursed to neighboring homes but the Motts and Douglasses were sitting at a large dining table conversing with Mrs. Stanton. Sandy and I were shown places. The housekeeper stood by the kitchen door.

“Clara, our new guests must be famished. Would you serve them and then take care of the two bundles.”

“Of course, Beth.”

I was shocked by such familiarity, but said nothing – other than to thank Clara when we were served.

Once we were settled, Mr. Mott asked how we came to acquire a second bundle. I was hesitant, as I did not know the Stantons, and was unsure what crimes I might be confessing to. Seeing my hesitancy, he said. “I assure you that our hosts are entirely trustworthy. Henry here is a lawyer like myself, and Beth is as versed in the law as either of us, though not admitted to the bar. Anything you say will be held in the strictest confidence.”

I rehearsed what had happened at the farm.

“Well, that is quite a tale, and well told. Have you any detail to add?”

“No … but are we guilty of murder?”

“Legally, neither of you are. The law permits deadly force to prevent a felony – though a jury might not see it so – given that a negro killed a white man merely having his way with a negress – and an escaped slave at that. As for you, we might succeed with a plea of self-defense, but the prosecution might argue that you were interfering with a lawful process. … It is best that it not come to trail. Do you not see it so, Henry?”

“Yes, James, I agree. I would add that John Ritten, the farmer, was not well liked. That could weigh one way or the other depending on what a jury might be led to believe.”

“Elizabeth?”

“My expertise is with property, not the criminal law. Still, I agree with Henry as to the danger. Abolitionist sentiment runs high here, but there are enough who believe otherwise that there is a danger a jury might convict.”

Mr. Mott paused to reflect, then said, “James, I suggest you and I ride out to the farm tonight and examine the scene.”

“I could accompany you,” offered Mr. Douglass.

“Given that patter rollers were killed, that might lead to unforeseen complications. It would be best if you remained and continued planning the meeting.” With that the two lawyers left.

Turning to me, Mrs. Stanton said, “You have had an exhausting day my dear. I would like to give you a bed, but the neighbors are long abed, and we only have the fainting couch in the parlor and the floor.”

“Either will suit. I will let Sandy have the couch and I will be most grateful to curl up on the floor before the fire.”

She gave me a feather pillow and a quilt and I was soon dead to the world.

When I woke, Clara was clearing the table, but interrupted her work to set a place for me. I had only begun my coffee when eggs, griddle cakes and a rasher of bacon were set before me. Being famished, I ate with such unladylike ferocity that even Miss Wilson would have called me to task. Looking around, I saw Sandy in the parlor playing some sort of board game with the three Stanton boys.

When I reached my sufficiency, Messrs. Mott and Stanton pulled up chairs on either side of me.

Mr. Stanton began, “We found the bodies as you described. Nothing we saw would place you, Sandy or Henry at the scene. The one called Brad had six warrants in his breast pocket. We took them all except that for Henry, which already been shown around the area. There was none for Becky – or any female for that matter. Without them, no one will be able to obtain to a writ of replevin to return the escapees.”

“A writ of replevin?” I asked.

“It is the document you need to remove run-away slaves.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, a good night’s work, I dare say!”

Mr. Mott continued, “We also found money to compensate Becky and Henry and help them establish new lives. They will be given it when we send them on.

“That brings us to you and Sandy. This morning the constable told me he had just received notification that a certain Miss Nancy Winston, aged seventeen or eighteen, had abducted Alexander van der Leyden, aged 11. She is believed to be fleeing to St. Louis via the Canal and riverboat. Barges are being stopped and searched. You cannot go further by canal.”

“What shall I do?”

“Well, as you know, we are in the railroad business, and I am sure we can provide tickets as far as Buffalo. Once there, you must make all hast to leave the state. I suggest that you board the lake steamer with Henry and Becky, but get off at Erie instead of going on to Fort Malden.”

“Fort Malden?”

“Yes, in Canada.”

“Oh.”

“As I was saying, from Erie you can take a stage coach to Pittsburgh. There, riverboats leave daily for Cairo, in Illinois. Cairo is a major port. You will have your choice of boats going up river to St. Louis.”

“I see. That is most helpful.”

“You have sufficient funds?”

“Yes, I think I do. Thank you.”

“If you will excuse me. I have to help my wife prepare for the Conference.”

“Of course.”

I asked Clara, the housekeeper, where I could change, and took a few moments to don my dress. When I came out, Mrs. Stanton, who insisted I call her “Beth,” was waiting for me. She took me for a stroll along a lane lined by summer blooms.

“This is one of my favorite walks.”

“It is very beautiful.”

“I wanted to have a chance to talk to you privately, my dear.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Last night, and this morning, you appeared as a young man. I understand the need of disguise, so I was neither shocked nor surprised. Be that as it may, you more than appeared to be a young man, you were a young man, my dear. I have seen this – a woman being a man – before – in New York, in London and especially in Paris. You may not have seen it before, and so it may concern you that you are not as other women. I wanted to say that you are not alone and that there is nothing wrong with you. Miss Margaret Fuller has written a book, Woman in the Nineteenth Century, in which she explains that no one is all masculine or all feminine, but that we each have differing amounts of masculine and feminine energy. I see in you, my dear, a great deal of masculine energy, but alloyed with indomitable feminine energy.”

“You almost know me better than I know myself. I have not as much knowledge of the world as you, Beth, but I met, in New York, men who dress and live as women, and seen women dressing as men.”

“Then you know.”

“Yes, I know of such things, but I have not found where I fit, or indeed, where I want to fit. So, for the present, I concentrate on my task, which is to deliver Sandy safely to Captain de Peyster’s friend in St. Louis. Still, as I progress I learn – about the world and about myself.”

“I can see that in you. I think you will be one of the bright beacons.”

“That is very kind of you to say, but I do not see myself so,”

“Time will tell.”

“I suppose it must.”

When we returned to the Stanton home, I made my way discretely to the stable to visit Henry and Becky. I found them at the little table finishing their luncheon. Becky stared for a moment, wondering who I was.

“How are you two faring?”

“We’re well, thank you, Miss,” said Henry.

“Beg pardon, but is you a man or a woman?” asked Becky.

“A woman. Like you, I am running, So I dress like a man to hide sometimes.”

“Oh. No disrespect, but you a good looking man. I’s thinking I could go wit you.”

“Ah, thank you.” She was a handsome girl, now that I could see her at my leisure.

“I just wanted to say that we came in the middle of a Conference, and so we will not be going on for two or three days yet.”

“A conference?”

“Yes, a kind of meeting. It will start tomorrow and last two days.”

“Oh.”

“Then where is we going?”

“To Buffalo and then by lake steamer to Fort Malden in Canada.”

“Canada is Canaan?”

“Yes.”

He smiled broadly. “When I a chil, my mother, she tell me her dream. She see a mayya help me run. She say I know this mayya because she care like a woman and fight like a man. That be you.”

“A mayya?”

“Umm … a witch. You be a mayya – a good witch.”