Along the Trail to Freedom

by John Duncklee

  "We have some clothes over there," she said, pointing to several tables with a variety of clothes piled on them.

  "I have no money, only this rebel rifle to trade. I took it from a rebel soldier at Antietam Creek."

  "That all depends on how much clothes you need," she said.

  "I think two changes will do," Homer said. "Of course I want jackets for the fall weather."

  "How can you possibly wear two jackets?" she asked, tilting her head.

  "I want to be sure I am presentable when I arrive home."

  "Did not the army pay you before granting you a furlough?"

  "You have no idea what it was like at the Battle of Antietam Creek. I feel fortunate to have been granted a furlough after I received the letter from my ailing mother. I hastened to leave as soon as possible."

  The woman stared at Homer as he told about the battle that had caused him to flee from the Union Army. She stood wide-eyed at his description. "Thank goodness my husband is in Washington," she said.

  "Take a look at what I have on those tables and I can tell you whether or not the Confederate rifle is of sufficient value to pay for what you have chosen."

  Homer stepped over to the two tables stacked with clothes. He sorted through the inventory carefully, holding up the articles to make sure they were the proper size for him and Billy. He finally came up with a pile that he wanted to purchase and carried the clothing to the counter. "Here's what I want," he said. "I think the rifle is worth more than what I have chosen."

  Homer put the clothes on the counter, and the woman sorted through the pile making notes on a piece of scrap paper with a quill pen and ink. When she was finished she looked up at Homer, and cleared her throat.

  "I will give you five dollars extra for the rifle," she said. "This is only because you are a Union soldier as is my husband. Would you care to have the clothes in a gunny sack to carry them?"

  "That would help," Homer said, as he picked up the five dollar gold piece she had put on the counter. "Thank you," he said.

  She handed him the burlap sack containing his purchases, and Homer left the store breathing easier. Outside he turned back toward the forest and had gone about twenty yards when he heard the woman calling. "Sir, you are going in the wrong direction for New York," she said.

  Homer wanted to ignore the direction, but didn't want to raise any more suspicion in the mind of the woman with the husband in the Union Army in Washington. "I'm going into the forest to change out of my uniform," he said.

  "Oh," she said. "I didn't want you to get lost and walk into the Confederate Army."

  "I don't think they will stay anywhere near here after Antietam," he said, waved, and turned back toward the forest where Billy and Gus awaited his return.

  The two soldiers got out of their uniforms and pulled on the civilian clothes. "Since it was your rifle, you can have the best outfit," Homer said. "I also have an idea to get Gus through areas where there might be slave hunters."

  "How do you figure to do that?" Billy asked.

  "Since you are obviously a southerner, you can tell anyone who asks about Gus that he is your slave. That way Gus is not a runaway."

  "Suppose we meet up with the Union Army, then what do I tell them?"

  "The same thing, Billy. They won't know you are a deserter from the Confederate Army."

  "I hope that works," Billy said. "Gus, what do you think about that idea of Homer's?"

  "It sounds betta than anything I is thinkin' up," Gus said.

  They finished dressing and waited for nightfall when it would be safe to travel. In the meantime Gus advised the two ex-soldiers about keeping close to rivers and sometimes being able to travel on them on abandoned rafts and such. "We gotta keep that settin' sun ahead of us even when it's dark," he said.

  Chapter Two

  The trip through Pennsylvania proved uneventful until they reached the Ohio River and found an abandoned raft that had hit a snag that held it on the south bank. They still traveled at night to be cautious because they still were not sure where they were. After floating two weeks that took them from Ohio and along the bottom of Indiana, Homer decided that it would be best to hide the raft and enter a town in order to find out how far they were from Saint Louis on the Mississippi River. They had discussed the best way to get over the country west of the Mississippi River to the Territory of New Mexico where some of their army friends had said cattle ranches prospered. Gus had little to add to those conversations because he knew nothing about any lands west of Louisiana.

  After investigating their whereabouts the three travelers felt fortunate that they had determined their position. Had they followed the Ohio River all the way to where it met with the Mississippi, they would have had a long walk back north to Saint Louis. Along the way across Missouri they took a few day jobs and were able to buy food and have a little left over to spend on transportation to Independence where freight wagons departed on the Santa Fe Trail.

  The temperatures, both day and night, were falling. The nights began getting cooler and cooler. The days were comfortable for travel, but the skies were becoming filled with scattered clouds. The three travelers discussed their situation about the closeness of winter and decided to try to find places to work inside during the cold weather. Being close to Independence, Homer suggested that they look for work in the warehouses where the traders stored their goods until they were loaded for the Santa Fe Trail haul. It took three days inquiring among the warehouse caretakers before they found work for the winter. The wages were next to nothing because the traders knew that those willing to work during the winter were only waiting for spring to arrive with good paying jobs promising work on the wagons heading for Santa Fe.

  The three got together frequently and looked at the snow covering the ground, wishing for spring so that they could continue their journey west. When the snowmelt became a reality, and not just a teaser for spring, they decided that it was time to find a wagon train that would be heading over the Santa Fe Trail as soon as possible. All three agreed that they were tired of Independence and the dull work in the warehouses.

  Since Missouri was a slave state they had to be careful where they took Gus, and a few times Billy had to pose as his master. After three days scouting around Independence they were anxious to be on their way West. On the morning of the fourth day they had found a freighter making up his wagon train and were happy that his destination was Santa Fe. Before getting work in the warehouses they realized that working on a wagon train was the only mode of transportation available unless they wanted to walk. They watched the wagon master oversee his mule teams as the teamsters hitched them to the wagons. Suddenly the lead mule on one of the wagons brayed and reared. The other mules spooked and began hauling the wagon off without a driver.

  Since Gus was closest to that wagon, he leaped toward the situation, ran quickly toward the lead mule and vaulted onto his back, grabbing the reins and pulling them tight. With one hand pulling the reins, Gus leaned over toward the mule's head and took a grip on the headstall of the bridle. Bending the mule's neck around, Gus began talking to the mule, telling it to calm down and stop fighting. The team of mules, following the leader, circled and came to a stop close to where the wagon master had stood, wondering if he would have a runaway team of mules to deal with. Gus remained on the lead mule's back when he had successfully stopped the runaway.

  The mule man approached and dropped the traces that hitched the team of mules to the wagon. The wagon master yelled at the man and scolded him for neglecting to drop the trace chains before leaving the wagon unattended. Only then did the wagon master turn to Homer and Billy. "Who is that darkie who stopped that wagon?" he asked.

  "That is Gus, and I am his master," Billy said, looking the wagon master in the eye.

  "Where are you three going?" the wagon master asked.

  "We are looking to work our way to Santa Fe," Billy said.

  "Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. That darkie is one good mule man. I c
an tell by the way he handled that situation. How would you like to rent him to me for the trip to Santa Fe?"

  "I have an idea," Homer said. "You hire Gus as a mule man, us as shotgun guards, pay us the going wage and you have a deal as long as you release us in Santa Fe."

  "You drive a tough bargain, but I'll go along with it. Wait just a minute until I deal with that bone-headed man who thinks he knows more than mules."

  The wagon master strode with determination over to the man in charge of the mules and the wagon. The three travelers watched the hand signals the wagon master used, but could not hear his words. The man hung his head and walked away from the staging area to the freight company office.

  The wagon master, finished with his business with the muleteer, returned to the travelers and gave them a slip of paper to give to the office clerk. "I told him to furnish a rifle and ammunition to you," he said to Billy. "If you still have the rifle when we get to Santa Fe, you can hand it over to the office clerk out there when you draw your pay. Your friend already has a rifle."

  The wagon master held a short meeting with the mule men during which he explained how he wanted the wagons arranged both on the trail, at night and during any Indian raids that might occur. "I want all the wagons in a circle that is tight but not so tight as to cause the mules to step on one another," he said. "I want the mules heading into the center of the circle with the backs of the wagons on the outside. I know you may have done things differently with other wagon masters, but this is my train and you'll do my bidding as long as you're on my payroll. When we are moving along the trail I want six wagons abreast fifty yards in front of the other six, also abreast. In this manner you can form a circle of wagons quickly in case of an Indian attack."

  One of the drivers raised his hand to speak. "What's the reason you want the mules heading to the center of the circle?"

  "I have found that the main reason some Indians raid is to get mule meat. They consider it a delicacy. Putting the mules to center protects them better. We need every mule we have to pull these wagons."

  An hour later the wagon train consisting of twelve wagons pulled by teams of six mules each started for Santa Fe. Billy rode with Gus and Homer sat next to a muleskinner named Horace Neal who had spent most of his life in Missouri around mules. The wagon on which Homer rode was loaded with oats for the mules and horses.

  Besides the freight wagons there were two riders who drove the spare horses and mules, about thirty head all told, and the cook's wagon. Homer thought the three scouts in their buckskin attire looked more Indian than Indians. Two of the scouts rode ahead and to each side of the wagons, while the other stayed to the rear in case some would be raiders thought they could take advantage of the train from that direction. One of the horse wranglers also did the hunting for game to supply the cook with meat. The cook's helper not only helped with the meals and cleanup, but also kept the cook supplied with firewood or buffalo chips.

  The wagon master, Virgil Becker, on his tall, dappled gray gelding, rode ahead of the first span of wagons by a quarter mile. However, every so often he turned and waited for the train to pass in case there was a problem that needed his attention. Virgil Becker had been guiding wagon trains for twenty years. Before that he had been a muleteer. He was not only an expert with mules, but he was also a leader of men. Virgil was demanding of his employees, but he was always fair.

  Before he began hauling freight from Independence to Santa Fe, a distance of a little more than a thousand miles that his trains usually completed in about thirty-three days, Virgil had managed trains from Atchison, Kansas to Denver, a distance of six hundred miles that he usually made in twenty-one days. The Santa Fe Trail had a broader roadbed and was easier to travel than the Atchison/Denver route.

  Many of the freighters used oxen to pull their wagons, but Virgil preferred mules. As he said to Homer, "I know mules and oxen, and I'll take mules any day. Oxen are slow. You're lucky to get fifteen miles a day with oxen. If you treat them right, mules will give you at least twenty."

  "Mules eat a lot of oats," Homer said. "Isn't that expensive?"

  "The oats are expensive, but so is time on the trail. You have to find graze for oxen and the country on both sides of the trail are eaten down to practically nothing by all the oxen that have passed through here. Oxen are ruminants and have to graze, while mules can get by longer on oats."

  The first day on the trail went smoothly. All the mules behaved themselves and so did the men. At supper Homer, Billy and Gus ate together along with Horace Neal, who had plenty of stories to tell the younger men. However, Horace soon found himself talking to the night, because the others had crawled into their blankets and were fast asleep.

  The Flint Hills of Kansas were covered by an abundance of prairie grasses and other plants. The country was rolling hills so that it was an up and down pattern to travel across. The prairie was poking its way skyward after the snowmelt and Virgil Becker was happy to see such bountiful pasture for his hard working mules.

  The daily work of keeping the mules moving became dull. When they were three days past Council Grove, the scout on the rear guard galloped in and yelled for Virgil Becker to come to the back of the rear span of wagons. Becker turned back and reined up the dappled gray gelding to face the scout.

  "What's going on?" Becker asked.

  "There's three Comanche warriors followin' us about a mile back," the scout said.

  "Are you sure that's all there are?" Virgil asked.

  "As far as I can tell. They know I saw them, but it didn't seem to slow them up any."

  "They might be going west and decided to follow the trail. They may not know our wagons are ahead of them," Virgil said.

  "That could be. I've seen that before, but I thought you should know about it," the scout said.

  "Certainly. Keep an eye on them, and if they seem too close, give me another holler."

  The scout reined his appaloosa horse around and trotted a hundred yards back where he waited to catch another glimpse of the Indians. The wagons continued without any hesitation. Virgil rode back to beyond the head of the train to look for the other two scouts and inform them about the "followers"." It was early afternoon.

  Virgil halted the wagons at a familiar campground along the trail. He knew that it could be protected effectively from a far more numerous band of raiders than the three the rear scout had spotted, but he wasn't taking any chances. It was still a long trek to Santa Fe, and they had not yet reached the Comanche homeland. He figured the "followers" were heading home, but that wouldn't mean that they wouldn't take advantage of a chance to steal mules.

  The scout from the rear of the wagons arrived and reined up next to Virgil. "Get one of those agey mules I brought along and maybe we can satisfy those Comanches with the prospect of meat they don't have to steal," Virgil said. "Stake out the mule off the trail so they know it's a gift."

  "That scheme of yours has worked before, Virgil," the scout said over his shoulder as he trotted off to get one of the old mules from the rope corral full of extra animals.

  Virgil always brought a few mules that were too old to work. He gave them to Indians to keep them from raiding and possibly taking working animals. He found that method more effective than trying to kill the Indians or run them off from the wagons. The following evening the scout from the rear returned and reported not sighting the three Comanches again.

  "Good," Virgil said. "The sacrificial mule did it again."

  Homer, Billy and Gus discussed the sacrificial mule after supper before crawling into their blankets. "I have heard all kinds of stories about Indians attacking wagons and killing everyone just to get away with horses, mules or oxen, but what Mister Becker did today seems like the best way to handle such a situation," Homer said.

  "I felt sorry for that old mule that must have been at least twenty-years-old," Billy said.

  "That ol' mule lived a long life, seems to me," Gus remarked. "Best Mister Becker save da youngsters ta pull da wago
ns."

  "I wonder how many times Mister Becker has sacrificed an old worn-out mule to save his young ones," Homer said. "I would say Mister Becker knows more about this country and its people than most."

  "I 'speck you be right dere," Gus said.

  The rolling hills flattened out and the horizon looked like it was at the end of the earth. The mules could pull steadily without the up and down of the rolling and undulating hills to the east where they had come from. The prairie seemed to not enjoy the flat country as it had further east, but they found enough graze for the mules.

  The only thing that happened for the next ten days aside from two rainstorms was several wagon trains pulled by oxen passing in the opposite direction as they headed back to Independence. When the twin peaks of Rabbit Ears Mountain finally came into view, Becker ordered the lead wagons to head southward, explaining that he knew where there was a grassland that had not been grazed down to nothing like the grasses near the Santa Fe Trail. He wanted to give the mules and horses a couple of days to fill up on grass. Even though it had started to turn straw colored with the days inching toward fall, it was still excellent feed.

  Just before Becker was about to give the order to halt the wagons and unhitch the mule teams for grazing, the two forward scouts rode in and took Becker aside. "We met old Owl Ears and he's headed this way," one scout said.

  "I've been wondering if he would show up this time," Becker said. "Put rope halters on those two old mules, and I'll palaver with the old Apache when he gets here."

  Becker rode over to the wagon where Billy sat riding shotgun next to Gus. "We're about to meet up with an old Apache friend of mine," Becker said. "His name is Owl Ears. We never know an Apache's real name and if we did we couldn't pronounce it, so I named him Owl Ears ten years ago. It was kind of after the mountain we passed back there that everyone calls Rabbit Ears, but his ears are short like an owl's."

  "What are we supposed to do about this Apache?" Billy asked.