The Underground Railroad

Chapter 26 Summary

This chapter begins with an unconventional fugitive bulletin, dated December 23. It describes Cora and concludes with the assertion that she has stopped running, that the bounty for her “remains unclaimed,” and that “[s]he was never property” (304).

Cora is forced to lead Ridgeway and Homer to the ghost station after her capture. She divulges its location after the slave catcher holds a pistol to her eye.

The narrative moves back to a sequential recounting of the events of the ambush. Ridgeway drags Cora to his wagon. Cora sees that his hair has gone completely gray, and his skin sallow. His speech has lost its commanding authority.

Cora wonders why she had held Royal off for so long. She adds their relationship to her long list of things in her life that were terminated unexpectedly and brutally. She tells herself that he must have known that she loved him, even if she never said it.

Ridgeway tells Cora that she is going home, but not before she shows him the Underground Railroad. By the time they enter the doleful old house, Homer has changed back into his suit and stovepipe hat. She tells Ridgeway that the station is below the cellar. Wary of a trap, he hands her a candle and tells her to proceed down first. She holds out her chains, and Ridgeway agrees to remove them to make the trip faster.

Ridgeway tells Cora that, even though the current enslaver of Randall may not pay the reward for her return, he is bringing Cora back. He tells her that he should have foreseen the difficulties that Cora posed, and that she truly is her mother’s daughter. Cora sees that Ridgeway’s special animus toward her is rooted in his hatred for her mother—and she can’t decide if this makes her proud or spiteful.

Cora hesitates on the first step of the stairway to the station and thinks about how she always refused to dance with men after her rape. But she vows to herself: “Tonight I will hold him close, as if in a slow dance. As if it were just the two of them in the lonesome world, bound to each other until the end of the song” (308). She waits until Ridgeway is on the third step before she turns and locks her arms around him “like a chain of iron” (308). As he struggles, she holds on tight to him and the pair of them crash down the stone steps and into the pitch black.

Homer enters the gloom with a lantern. Cora disentangles herself from Ridgeway and crawls toward the handcar. In her left leg, a terrible pain blooms. She looks for a weapon and finds nothing. Homer crouches next to his boss, his hand enveloped in blood from the back of Ridgeway’s head. A bone juts from the man’s thigh.

Ridgeway sits up and cries out in pain. He looks around the dark station, and when his eyes pass over Cora, he betrays no interest. He asks Homer where they are. He tells Homer to take dictation, before launching into a meandering speech about the splendors of the American imperative. Their voices trail off as Cora leans into the pump of the handcar.

After some difficulty, Cora coaxes the handcar into movement. She discovers her own rhythm as she conveys herself down the tunnel. She puts miles between herself and “the counterfeit sanctuaries and endless chains, the murder of the Valentine farm” (310). Then she collapses into exhaustion.

When she awakens, she decides to travel the rest of the way on foot. Lumbly’s words echo in her mind: “Look outside as you speed through, and you’ll find the true face of America” (310). She fears that she has lost her orientation in the darkness and is walking back from where she came. She sleeps twice more, dreaming tender dreams of making love to Royal.

Finally, she emerges into the air. It is warm—warmer than Indiana. She thinks that she may be beyond America. When she finds a creek, she drinks from it, and washes the soot and dirt from her arms and face. It is getting dark when she finds her way to a trail. The first passerby, a white man, ignores her. The next wagon bears a white man and woman. The man asks her if she needs help, and Cora shakes her head.

The third wagon is driven by an older Black man. He is large and grizzled, and his eyes are kind—familiar although she cannot place them. He asks her if she is hungry, and she says that she is. Then he invites her into the carriage, where he gives her bread that she devours. He tells her that he is going to St. Louis, and then to California, along with others who he will meet in Missouri. She tells him that she was in Georgia before she ran away, and also tells him her name. She wraps herself in a blanket, and the man tells her that his name is Ollie: “The blanket [is] stiff and raspy under her chin but she [doesn’t] mind. She [wonders] where he escaped from, how bad it was, and how far he traveled before he put it behind him” (313).