Hide Yourself Away Read Free Page B

Gordon continued his narration for his students.
    “Shepherd’s Point figured prominently in the history of the African-American in Newport. The mansion was built on the site of a former shepherd’s pasture. A principled man, the shepherd lent his help to the desperate, hunted slaves fleeing their southern masters. A tunnel was built up from the ocean to the small shanty that led to freedom at Shepherd’s Point. Years later, when the grand home was built by the silver magnate Charles Wagstaff, Sr., the tiny farmhouse was shored up and used as a playhouse for the Wagstaff children. The Underground Railroad tunnel was left intact.”
    Gordon led the way out of the van, wincing at the pain inhis knee. The students followed as he walked to the weathered playhouse, continuing his lecture as they moved along.
    “Until now, there has been only one documented Underground Railroad tunnel open for public viewing. That one slopes toward the home of the noted abolitionist Henry Ward Beecher in Peekskill, New York. There have been rumors about the Shepherd’s Point tunnel, and Newporters have talked about its existence, some even sneaking onto the estate to catch a glimpse.
    “Historians have been trying for years to persuade Agatha Wagstaff to allow access to the tunnel and permit essential preservation work. At one point, she had almost acquiesced, but the work was never started. Fourteen years ago, Ms. Wagstaff’s sister, her only sibling, Charlotte Wagstaff Sloane, disappeared. Agatha became a recluse, and the preservation project never happened. Shepherd’s Point, as you can see, sank into decrepitude.”
    All eyes wandered across to the gray manor house looming at the top of the sweeping, weedy lawn.
    “It was finally lack of money that persuaded Agatha to let the work begin just recently. City officials made a deal by which the back taxes on Shepherd’s Point would be forgiven in exchange for the right to open the tunnel to the public.”
    The scholars reached the playhouse. Yellow police tape blocked the entrance, yet no one stood guard. The students watched as Gordon pulled back the tape and opened the door.
    “Should we be doing this, Professor?” asked one.
    “It’s all right. I’ll take full responsibility. I don’t know what the future of this tunnel will be now, in light of what has justbeen discovered here, but I want you all to see this. We may be the last people to witness this historic, sacred place for a very long time.”
    The group passed single file through the narrow doorway and huddled in the only room. If there had once been a cot for the shepherd to sleep on or a table and little chairs for the Wagstaff girls to hold tea parties, that furniture had long since been removed. The only sign of the life that had once pulsed inside the walls was the darkened fireplace, ashes still lying on the hearth.
    With the pain in his knee always present, the professor knelt to lift a piece of the wooden floor, revealing a narrow wooden staircase. The students craned to look into the dark passage. Engrossed, none of them felt the presence behind them, blocking the doorway.
    The shrill voice cut the musty air. “Out! All of you get out of here. Get off my property!”
    Agatha Wagstaff, mistress of Shepherd’s Point, stood before them, her blue eyes bulging from her milk-white face, her red lipstick bleeding grotesquely through the lines around her mouth.
    “Agatha, please,” Gordon pleaded. “I just want my students to see the tunnel. Just give us a few minutes.”
    “No, Gordon. You and your students, get out of here this instant or I’ll call the police. Charlotte never wanted you here to begin with. She didn’t want our home to become a tourist attraction. She never wanted this tunnel opened.”

  CHAPTER  
3
    After lunch, Grace gathered with the other interns in the KTA conference room as T-shirts were distributed. With pleasure, she inspected hers. KEY NEWS—CALLAHAN was imprinted in large black