It was dangerous to be an abolitionist in the Deep South in the mid-19th century. But
opposing slavery and helping runaway slaves escape toward Mexico or Canada was
particularly risky in Texas in the final months before the Civil War. The state's rugged,
open landscape offered few places to hide, and runaways often had to cover great
distances just to get from one safe house to the next. Meanwhile, helping slaves flee or
simply being suspected of anti-slavery feelings could get you and family members killed
or your home or store torched by vigilantes. Henry Chappell's recent third novel, Silent
We Stood, paints an engrossing, fact-based and frequently tense portrait of slavery and
anti-slavery sentiments in North Texas in 1860. -Dallas Morning News
Texas was the darkest corner of the Old South, too remote and violent for even the
bravest abolitionists. Yet North Texas newspapers commonly reported runaway slaves,
and travelers in South Texas wrote of fugitives heading to Mexico. On July 8, 1860,
Dallas, Texas burned. Three slaves were accused of arson and hanged without a trial.
Today, most historians attribute the fire to carelessness.
Silent We Stood weaves the tale of a small band of abolitionists working in secrecy
within Dallas's close-knit society. There's Joseph Shaw, an undertaker and underground
railroad veteran with a shameful secret; Ig Bodeker, a charismatic, melancholic
preacher; Rachel Bodeker, a fierce abolitionist, Ig's wife, and Joseph Shaw's lover;
Rebekah, a freed slave who'll sacrifice everything for the cause; Samuel Smith, a crypto-freedman
whose love for Rebekah exacts a terrible cost; and, towering above them all,
a near-mythical one-armed runaway who haunts area slavers and brings hope to those
dreaming of freedom.
