Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad Read Online Free PDF

Finley’s gonna marry you? Would’ve by now if he was gonna. That’s my guess!”
    Why did she love to plague me so? Why was it her mission to bring me misery? I was tempted to answer her. To ask why she was older than I by a year, had two babies and no husband in sight. But it would just bring more wrath on me, so I closed the door to keep her noise outside. Rachel wandered downstairs, holding her ears.
    “Sounds like Pru is full of the ‘Old Harry’ this morning,” she observed.
    “I don’t know what gets into her. She seems bent on making my life miserable.”
    “She’s miserable herself. Has little to do with you, Sister. You’re just a convenient target.”
    I sighed. “Well, I wish she’d take her misery and be gone. I could do without her.”
    Now Betsy made her entrance. “What’s Pru nattering about now?” she yawned.
    Outside, Pru still stood on the porch, bare feet wide apart, elbows akimbo, looking defiant. Amos, Jesse and Nathaniel started in from the barn, talking among themselves. When she saw them, Pru turned and stepped off the porch, hiked up her skirts and all but ran down the hill.
    The addition stood tall and large, dwarfing the old cabin. Jesse and Nathaniel chinked the logs to match the old part, and once that was done the whole place looked like it had always been so. The next step was plaster—both the old and new parts.
    Plastering was an art, done by hire. For country houses, there was usually an itinerant plasterer looking for work and a place to stay until the job was done.
    Amos let it be known he was looking for a plasterer, and within a day one came to the door. His name was Jacob Schilling, of German stock, from Dauphin County.
    “What brings you west?” Amos asked.
    “I follow the work,” was the reply. “If the next job is north, I’ll go north. They tell me there’s work at Altoona. Brand new city sprung up to service the railroad. Lots of new houses being built. That’s where I’m figuring on going from here.”
    Amos nodded. He showed Jacob Schilling the new addition and explained what he wanted done. They settled on a price, then Amos showed him to quarters in the tack room of the barn.
    We three girls watched from the doorway as Jacob Schilling tended to his horse. We all found the handsome young stranger interesting, but none more than Rachel.
    “Did you see the muscles in his arms?” she asked. “They fairly ripple!”
    “Rachel! Quaker girls do not notice or comment on men’s muscles!”
    “Some do,” Rachel replied saucily. “Oh, Ann. I’m just having fun. You noticed, too. I know you did.”
    I admitted, reluctantly—to myself—that I had, indeed, noticed, but not in the silly, breathless way Rachel had.
    “I worry about you, Rachel. You’re too quick to speak and too bold with strangers. I hope it comes to naught, but I worry.”
    Rachel laughed and tossed her head. “Life is too short to worry,” she replied. Little did she know.
    Turned out I wasn’t wrong to worry. Rachel found Mr. Schilling interesting to the point of irresistibility, and she made up any excuse to be where he was. Rachel, who flitted about from one suitor to another, was fixed on Jacob Schilling. She watched him work; she took him snacks and drinks; she sat across from him at table and listened to his talk as though she’d never heard English before. They took to walking out after supper, long walks in the summer twilight. After the second walk, they came back holding hands, and one evening I saw dried grass clinging to the back of her dress.
    I understood her infatuation. Mr. Schilling was worldly compared to the men we knew. He’d grown up north of Harrisburg but wanted none of farm life. He’d even been married before. His wife of two years had died in childbirth. The baby was being raised by Jacob’s parents. His wife’s death put the wanderlust in Jacob, and he took his trade out to see the world.
    Oh, he was attractive, all right. Bright, personable,