A Quilt for Christmas by Sandra Dallas Page A

woman?”
    John Hamlin smiled. “Last time she hid an escaped slave, the Starks almost caught him. I expect the man didn’t get but five minutes head start, and the Starks would have found him at that, except the littlest Espy boy stepped on an iron spike and howled like the devil that he was going to get the lockjaw if somebody didn’t help him.”
    â€œDid they get out the spike?” Missouri Ann asked.
    â€œTurned out it was only a scrape, nothing to worry about. A boy of seven or thereabouts tricked them. The Starks were mad enough to chew nails. But that gave the slave enough time to get away. I reckon the Starks will go to the Espy place even before mine,” John said. He turned to Eliza. “I wouldn’t ask it, but there’s a woman’s life at stake.”
    And a woman who’d done nothing more than try to save the life of her son, Eliza thought. She and Missouri Ann would have done the same thing. In fact, Missouri Ann had already risked her own safety in getting Nance away from the Starks. But could she put the children in danger? Eliza wondered. She and Missouri Ann were grown women who knew the risks, but it wasn’t fair to the children, especially Luzena, who did not fully understand about the war. Eliza pondered that, wishing Will could have given her advice, but she was on her own, and she must decide now. What would Will have told her to do? And then she knew. He would have advised her to do what was right. That was what he had said when he joined the army, that he did not care to go off and fight a war, but it was the right thing. He had died doing that right thing. Could she expect less of herself? It was not enough for men to do good, but women must, too. Eliza turned back to John. “Of course we shall take her in, Mr. Hamlin. And welcome her. It’s what Will would have done. When will you bring her?”
    â€œWe have brought her already. She’s in the wagon.” He grinned as if he had known all along that Eliza would accept the slave.
    Eliza turned to the wagon, which was filled with tree trunks. She had assumed John was taking them to the sawmill. “Where?”
    â€œUnder the timber.”
    â€œWhy the poor thing!” Missouri Ann cried. “You likely crushed her.”
    â€œAnd if you didn’t, she’s bound to be uncomfortable,” Eliza said. “We must take her inside at once.”
    While Eliza and Missouri Ann hurried to the house to prepare for the sick woman, Print drove the wagon close to the door. Then he and John removed the tree trunks that covered Sukey and lifted her out of her hiding place. They set her on her feet, but Sukey was so weak that she fell, and the men had to carry her inside the house. Eliza motioned for them to lay Sukey on the bed. The sick woman watched Eliza turn down the quilt, the Sunshine and Rain quilt that Eliza had put back on her bed after she learned of Will’s death. Sukey was small, with small hands and feet, and she was as thin as a hoe handle. Her black eyes were quick, and they never left Eliza’s face. When Eliza turned, she caught the slave’s glance and read fear in it. Poor woman. She had suffered much and come far, and still she feared she would be caught and put to death. Maybe she wondered if Eliza would turn her in.
    â€œYou can trust me, Sukey. I am Mrs. Spooner, and this is Mrs. Stark, and we will care for you until you are well.” Eliza thought a moment, then announced, “I would change her name. We would not want the children to let slip ‘Sukey.’ Do you understand?” she asked the slave. When Sukey nodded, Eliza announced, “Clara. Will you be Clara?”
    Sukey nodded again and muttered, “Clara.”
    â€œCan you trust the children not to talk?” John asked.
    â€œI will explain to them that it is a matter of life and death to keep silent about … Clara.” Eliza smiled and glanced at the black