ONE DAY IT SNOWED IN MARCH

 

Sunday, March 3, 1861, was a cold rainy day in the mountains of western Virginia. The clouds in the sky were an inky dark gray the perfect color to signal snow as the day wound to a close and nightfall came. There was a restlessness moving through the slave quarters of the Howard plantation. The ghostly ones, the all but invisible house slaves, had slipped out to brng troubling news to their counterparts in the shacks that served as shelter. The Old Man was drinking heavily and swearing almost continuously,. Tomorrow Abraham Lincoln would be inaugurated President of the United States. Change was no longer just a whisper in the breeze…the Old Man felt that it was a major change to his Southern way of life.

As  night came and snow began to fall, the Old Man sank into a drunken stupor and finally into a drunken sleep. The house slaves finished their work, then one by one slipped away to the quarters to whisper urgently with their friends and   relatives.  The Old Man had been muttering threats all afternoon. If that “damn Yankee” fool became President, it wouldn’t be long before those “damned abolitionists” took over and freed the slaves and if those “nigrahs” were going to be freed, he’d be damned if he’d feed and clothe any “nigrah.”

By full dark, all  the  black folks on the plantation had gathered to discuss the very real  possibility that they would be kicked off the plantation. Where would they go? Who would take them in? Would they be treated as runaways? Would the Old Man sell them South away from family and all they knew? Winter was sliding away but spring had not yet come to the mountains…just look at the snow that was piling up. Margaret was especially worried. She had five little ones, 8,6, 5, 3 and 1 and if she  was right….another one on the way. If she carried baby George, William  could take Belle’s hand, and Lewis would  be able to hold Charles’ hand. It would not be easy but it seemed the only way. She knew exactly where she would go but it was a long way and she did not know if the children could walk that far and stay warm. Later into the  night, she gathered as much warm clothing as she could find. The other woman asked her in hushed whispers, where would she go, could her husband come and get her and the children? How far away did he live? What were they going to do?

William Henry had whispered to her in the night…his “owner” was really his father and  had tried so hard to buy Margaret and the  children but Old Man Howard would not deal. Then William Henry had whispered the directions to be mountain where he lived and made her memorize the directions. In the ashes from the fireplace…he had drawn a map. She knew she could find the way, she would find the way, she just had to find a way to keep her babies warm. She talked to one of the younger men…did he know a way to get a message to William Henry? Finally she had a promise, her friend would slip over to the next plantation and pass the word and someone else would pass the word until it got to William Henry, He didn’t know how long it would take but he would do his best. She worked tirelessly throughnthe night..whe would walk every step if she had to but she had to carry food and warm clothes…to keep her babies safe.

Slipping and sliding through the night. From farm to plantation, across the mountains and through the valleys, the message traveled more tyhan the twenty road miles between the two Virginia mountain communities. Before daylight broke the next morning, William Henry left his loft bed in the main cabin of the isolated farm on top of  Little River Mountain. He dressed quickly and grabbed a warm coat.  It had  snowed overnight and the livestock must be fed, the cows milked and other early morning chores completed. He stomped down the narrow path to the barn knocking the snow off his boots.  To his surprise, the lat ch on the barn door was open. Looking around the side of the building, he looked for tracks…saw nothing out of the ordinary and then cautiously opened the door, entered the barn and hung his kerosene lantern on the nail be the feed room. There was someone hiding in the barn, he could smell the difference in the air!

A whispered voice came from the hay loft. “William Henry? That you?” He recognized the voice as beng from a neighboring farm…from a Quaker owned farm on the other side of the mountain. It was a black man who had lived at the nearby farm for many years…who had studied beside him in the night when the Quaker lady had taught them both to read and write. “Yep, it’s me Oscar. Something wrong?”

As the other man climbed down the ladder from the loft, “Got  a message for you, A fellow came late last night…from up the road.” The two men looked at each other eye to eye. “Said to tell you…Old Man Howard…is fixing to put your family out! He’s drunk, cussing and swarping cause Lincoln is president. The word is he’s putting all the people out…with just the clothes on their back…no papers..nothing.”

The blue gray eyes darkened and flashed with fire. The neighbor man grabbed the busket, “I’ll milk the cows and feed your stock fore I go back to the Meetin’ House. Haven’t heard of any slavecatchers around lately…with this…snow..they’d be easy to track and once I get back over the mountain, I’m safe.”

William Henry headed back to the main cabin and went in. The older man by the fire knew something nwas wronh. The lighter gray eyes met the darker flashing ones….square on, “What’s going on?

“Word’s come…bad word..old Howard is putting everybody off his place…says he’s not gonna feed or clothe nobody..”

The man with the light eyes slammed his tin cup on the plankboard table.  His eyes flashed with anger, “He wouldn’t sell her to me and he wouldn’t sell the children and now the son of a bitch is throwing them out!  You get the wagon ready and go get them…don’t waste time..GO!”

William Henry set out on Webbs Mill Road toward Christiansburgh. That was the way he had whispered to Margaret,,,if she ever got free to walk on that road. He had knelt by the fireplace and taught her the letters so she would know. Thoughts raced through his mind….he had piled enough hay in the back of the wagon to keep them warm and to hide them from prying eyes. His grandmother had handed him warm blankets to put in the straw and had put warm bricks in the bottom too, She was old and didn’t say much but the message was clear…go get those children and bring them home! The mules plodder along the rowd, The sun was trying to come through but the wind was still swirling the snow about. He had been on t he road for nearly an hour and he was more than half way there when he spotted a small group of people ahead, There seemed to be a woman there who walked like Margaret…could it be her?

Margaret was cold and her three year old boy was heavy but she knew she dared not stop walking. The oldest boy carried the baby and her second  son held his sister’s tiny hand. Both older boys walked in their mother’s  footsteps. They could not be caught on the road, they had no pass…but they had been lucky so far. There had been no other people on the road. Coming down the next hill was a wagon pulled by two mules. The man driving the wagon was black. Surely he would not harm them…but he was headed the wrong way! They could not go back to Christiansburgh…they had tom go the other way….but wait!  The wagon was stopping and the man was climbing down!  Would he help them? Then Margaret recognized the man driving….it couldn’t be! But it was!

“Woman, get up in this wagon. Give me the children! There are warm bricks and blankets in the middle of the hay. Boy, get up in this wagon  and get warm!”  William Henry grabbed his family and loaded them in the wagon, snugly hidden in the straw, “We’re going back up the mountain as soon as I turn this wagon around.”

And, they did.