Mrs. Betsy Smith always hummed while she baked pies on Saturday. Today she was baking apple pies having just harvested the first apples of the season. One pie sat sizzling in the brick oven beside the hearth. She added another log to the fire beneath it and began making a second pie.

First she cut the butter into the flour. Next she added water still cool from the spring that ran behind her house. She glanced out the window while she molded the crust into the pie tin as she expected Mrs. Ana Sutter soon. Sure enough, her gingham bonnet turned the corner right on time. But it would take her another five minutes to make her way down the long meandering lane. The first pie would be ready when she arrived.

Betsy placed the kettle on the metal plate glowing with warmth atop the stove and set out two tea cups.

Ana and Betsy had known each other their whole lives. They had begun their Saturday ritual of pie and tea when Betsy's husband had died nearly 10 years ago. But their real work had begun in earnest just three years ago after the last of Besty's children had finally been married off.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Smith," said Ana. Tea was always a formal affair. "I can tell by the delicious smell in your kitchen that the first of the apples have arrived."

"Indeed Mrs. Sutter," said Besty, cutting her friend a slice of steaming hot pie and pouring her a cup of hot tea. 

The two ladies took a moment to savor the buttery crust and soft sweet filling.

"Have you hear any news from town?" asked Betsy.

"I'm afraid nothing of interest," replied Ana.

"Did the pastor speak of any families in need?" asked Betsy. Her husband had left her comfortable enough to give to the needy.

"Not this week," replied Ana.

"And the station?" asked Betsy. "Any word from the conductor?"

"Actually," replied Ana, setting down her tea cup and dabbing the corners of her mouth with a starched linen napkin,"I heard word today there were three bundles of wood that arrived. Any chance you have room in your woodshed?"

"Indeed I would," replied Besty. 

Ana hesitated, a sorrowful look in her eye. "There is only one large bundle of wood and two small bundles."

"Two small bundles," Betsy repeated, nodding her head in understanding. "If there are two small bundles, best tell the conductor to deliver them straight to the house rather than the woodshed. It will get very cold tonight."

"Indeed," said Ana. "indeed." She looked tearful.

"By the grace of God the gospel train will ferry its most precious baggage safely to the Promised Land," said Betsy, placing her hand up that of her dearest, oldest friend.

"By the grace of God," said Ana.

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A/N: During the late 18th century to mid 19th century, the Underground Railroad helped 100,000 slaves escape from the southern United States to the north where slavery was illegal and 30,000-40,000 continued on to reach Canada, often referred to as the Promised Land where they were safe from fugitive slave laws. A host of code words were used by those running safe houses and safe harbors to keep operations clandestine. The journey was particularly dangerous for women and children as children were hard to keep quiet and enslaved black women were rarely allowed to leave plantations.