“Yes sir, we’ll let you see what we’ve got. This is getting a mite too much showing them all the time! Why don’t we each go to one of your men, show them and then go to the courthouse?”
Every escapee knew they had no such papers. A tense knotting of stomachs was subconscious indication they would soon be making their stand. All they could do was follow Fletcher’s lead.
Mock surprise morphed into a devilish grin upon hearing Fletcher’s reply. “Look boy, there ain’t no way you’ve got papers! In fact, I know none of you have papers. Do you want to see my proof? Here is my insurance policy Swamp Man’s Scout! Come on out and meet your old friends boy! I’m sure they can’t wait to see you.”
All eyes followed in the direction of the bearded leader’s focused stare. From a stand of tall trees where the riders appeared moments ago came a faint apparition. Even at a distance, the gait was all too familiar as the figure strode towards these rag tag bounty hunters. As the blurry vision came in perfect view, all escapees seen their hopes violently smashed.
Low sank their collective hearts. One of their own had done them in. Not only that, but he signed their death warrants in a single stroke of treason. Perhaps the only one not overwhelmed by defeat was Fletcher. This confirmed what he had already suspected; betrayal.
On reaching the hired men, this gruff leader posed a question to the traitor. “Say boy, is this Swamp Man’s Scout and his group of runaways? His ass has been causing so much trouble over the years at White Rose and other plantations! Cost them a boatload of money.
“They gonna pay a good price for your head! As for the rest, they may let them live after some hard punishment. So where in Sam Hell is this Fortune Smith darkie? This boy here says Harriston Smith can’t wait to get his whip into your hide!”
“There he is,” the disloyal one replied while pointing a bent finger directly at Fortune. “And the one that’s been doing all the talking is Swamp Man’s Scout.”
Fletcher took a moment to regain his composure. “It’s true. I am the guide in charge of these people,” replied Fletcher. “But what your man has wrong is that we do have papers. Let me come towards you with these documents. You will see that he is not certain of his facts.”
The head bounty hunter gave scant notice to the accuser. His calculating stare was firmly planted on Fletcher’s unwavering eyes.
If they were truly free, perhaps he could get two pays from one capture? Could he tell these ones to pay him a ransom, then once in hand sell them into slavery for a second gain? After stroking his shaggy chin growth to coax a decision, the leader of the posse replied.
“Okay boy, but step slowly. Understand me?”
“I sure do sir. Let me just fetch them out now.”
“Okay boy. But be slow with it.”
Fletcher quickly assessed the situation. There were five of them on horseback, with only the lead hunter and two rear men visibly armed. In his inside pocket he had the only firearm amongst the runaways, though he knew three other escapees possessed knives. They could aim these weapons with the skill of a marksman. In those meetings within the hanging foliage of Bitter Man, Fletcher prepared all assembled with valuable fighting skills. And each one was prepared to fight or die.
Being a free man, Fletcher was privy during his well-rounded education to acquire information on military organization. That knowledge proved invaluable to his current occupation. He drilled all of his learning into each soul whom entrusted their lives with him, including what to do when confronted by bounty hunters.
First, everyone was to line up single file behind him. Lead man takes out the lead. Each person after him takes out the next man behind the lead, left then right. There was just one target per person, starting on the signal phrase only. Here was the situation they knew could arise at any point during their flight. And on his practiced signal Fletcher would see if their mettle matched hopes for liberation.
Fletcher turned back towards his charges. “We might as well get lined up to walk down to the judge’s place.” He then faced the bearded rider. “Here they are sir. Man, do you smell that? I bet a HICKORY FIRE IS BURNING.”
So swift was the action that followed it caught these bounty hunters by complete surprise. Fletcher fired his gun in one lightening movement, easily finding its target. Clarence and Chauncey leapt out on opposite sides to land both knives with deadly accuracy. The bearded leader still wore a horrific look of shock etched upon a lifeless visage. Two of his companions were slumped forward in their saddles with crude blade handles protruding from their hearts. They appeared wide eyed with mouths agape.
“Watch out! They have guns!” screamed Fortune as he eyed the armed rear men aiming to fire. Completely without a weapon, Fortune rushed forward to retrieve the dropped gun of the lead bounty hunter. It was a desperate idea, though all he could do to try and save others. Just as he reached the object, three more shots crackled into open air.
Shrill screams pierced the tumultuous scene in a cacophony of agony. Simultaneously, Fortune felt a hot jab into his left arm, the force of which felled him immediately. Recovering himself, he crawled snakelike towards the revolver, rolled it into his right hand and spotted a target. The one remaining bounty hunter was taking aim directly for him. Two more blasts crackled in defiance.
That rider stayed strong in his saddle, only to fall with an awkward thud onto soft green grass. His fire missed Fortune by inches. Fortune was wounded from the first hit, though proved his worth to all his companions.
Pounding feet drew nearer to Fortune. “Are you alright?” asked an anxious Fletcher. “Looks like the bastard grazed your left arm. No problem. I can fix you up.”
Feeling somewhat groggy, Fortune cautiously pulled himself upright to answer Fletcher. Once standing, he surveyed the carnage about him. Seven bodies lay on the verdant field of Grossman’s Hollow. All five bounty hunters had gone to meet their Maker in contorted rapture. Fortune felt no sympathy for their plight, as they certainly held no regard for his. Their defeat was a necessary cost in the wages of liberation.
Peering further, a sight of sorrow crushed his warrior heart. Two escapees paid the ultimate price for their dreams. Donna, the only woman in the lot of them, fell near the clearing where they had stopped moments before. He hoped her end was without suffering. Her dignified manner through unspeakable hardship had won Fortune’s profound respect.
Wiping a stale tear from his eye, Fortune beheld another gut-wrenching casualty. “Why was he taken,” spoke a numbed Fortune under his breath. “He was too young to see his hope taken on this unforgiving soil!”
Chauncey lay face down with arms spread apart, hugging the very ground where he once stood proudly defiant. In Fortune’s mind this represented the ultimate perversion of slavery; the needless sacrifice of an able man with so much potential. Nothing could have fueled his ardor more than these tragedies at Grossman’s Hollow.
“Fortune, are you alright? Is the wound causing you ill?”
Fortune regained clarity and patted Fletcher softly on his back. “My arm will mend but my heart will never forget what happened today. We lost two good people and I could do nothing to stop it. Damn them Fletcher! Damn this evil land and its henchmen!
“They can cut our bodies down but not our desire. My blood runs red just like theirs. And I deserve to live life unshackled just like they do, no matter what they say!”
“It is a hard path we follow Fortune. I agree we lost two good people. But this is war, pure and simple. Chauncey and Donna are just two of many lives which will pay the dearest cost to see all slaves free. The only way to honor their memory is by carrying on with what we started.
“Let me fix you up. We have to move quickly; no telling who heard the shooting. Those bounty hunters may have others backing them up.”
Fletcher tended the grazed arm of Fortune. Afterwards, they set about with their remainder to bury all deceas
ed. Next, they took the hunters’ remaining horses, tying them to trees in deep cover. Yet one significant piece of business remained. Throughout the melee, a lone figure watched from a small stand of trees. With no place to run and their newest partners deceased, they prepared to face the consequences of brazen treachery.
Having cleared the area to satisfaction, Fletcher instructed his party to prepare for departure. Leaving their presence, he made deliberate pace towards a solitary figure. Swamp Man’s Scout appeared devoid of emotion. Purposeful of intent, he cut a powerful figure, striding quickly towards the betrayer. As if on cue, distant heaving clouds rumbled in anger when he finally faced the disloyal one.
“You witnessed all that mess?” he gestured with a broad sweeping motion. “You Nathaniel, through outright disregard for your fellow man’s lot, caused it all! There was no charity in your actions but a great deal of contempt.
“So tell me, what profit did meager promises gain you from a man known throughout for his sheer cruelty? I cannot jeopardize the safety of survivors with one like you about. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
The solemn figure calmly replied. “I was put in a position in which there were no choices to be made. If you think I planned this to gain favor, then there is nothing to say that will change your mind. In all my years at White Rose, I risked my life to help our people learn the power of words. To open their minds no less! For many years Mister Whip was none the wiser.” He paused for a moment to wipe his welling eyes.
“Go on Nathaniel. Speak your piece,” urged Fletcher.
“It was weeks ago that bastard came to my cabin in all his brutal pomp. Said a field hand spotted Fortune and I getting together every evening. Damn it, we were always so careful! One night that field hand passed by and listened to us studying words. Damn fool went straight to Mister Whip with this, and now he works in the Big House!”
Fletcher was convinced this was not the whole story. “From what you’ve said, how could he know about this escape unless you told him? It makes no sense!”
Nathaniel’s face took on a look of misgiving. “When Mr. Whip returned to White Rose, one night after you escaped, he came back to me! He said he had it on good word Swamp Man’s Scout had planned it, and he wanted to capture you and Fortune. And if I did not tell him what he needed, he would get rid of my daughters for good over to Oak Hill Plantation.
“Then he started hitting me, screaming that my daughters would see great harm if I did not speak. And that he would not leave until I spoke the truth. Like I just said; Mister Whip gave me no choice.”
Fletcher appeared calm while listening to Nathaniel account. “Why was it you of all people to commit this horrible deed? A learned man blessed with the gift of knowledge like me. You had even more of a responsibility to your fellow brethren in bondage to show the right way! And help protect the frailty of their plight with a sense of honor.”
Nathaniel interrupted Fletcher forcefully. “Did you not hear what I said? Harriston Smith was going to harm my daughters! They are all I have now. What would you have done in that situation? You cannot find fault in my reasons while sitting high on your self-righteous perch!”
At that instant Fletcher’s voice took on a harsher tone. “I will ask the questions here. You have the blood of many people on your hands today! Having the audacity to reason treachery! If you only knew how many times my back was up against it; the sacrifices I made to support a greater good. Burying self-interest and seeing through the endless threats.
“What good is the word of a beast like Harriston Smith? His promises mean less than nothing. Surely you had enough sense to know he found you guilty even before he knocked on that cabin door? Your appeasement bought time and no more. At that moment your daughters were lost; your life had expired.”
Catching his breath, Fletcher continued. “Your judgment was not sound. Your reality was blinded by self-preservation. Instead of protecting the secrecy which guided countless lives to freedom, you chose a serpent’s hiss. The lives of your fellow companions and any others connected to the escape were worth much less than half truth from Harriston Smith. Those were the odds you favored Nathaniel. Do you like the payout?”
Soon an anguished Fortune joined the party of two. “Tell me you did not set us up Nathaniel! Try to give me some sense of reason for what you did. Donna and Chauncey did not deserve this. What the hell were you trying to accomplish?”
Fortune’s deep despair was too much for Nathaniel to hear. “They had my daughters Fortune!” Nathaniel screamed out. “Mister Whip said he heard rumor of an escape going down! And if I had any information I’d better speak out or never see my daughters again. If I told him what he needed, not only would he spare my life, but make sure my daughters worked in the Big House at Oak Hill! No more hard fieldwork.
“As for you Fletcher, you’re missing something I said. How the hell did he know about the escape details in the first place? You have a leak Fletcher, damn it! And if it wasn’t me or the others, it has to have been one of the safe houses on the route! Open your eyes for Pete’s sake! All of this wouldn’t have happened without that tip off!
“And yes, I told him where all the escapees were heading and who was in the party. In return I would be getting something more certain than this doomed grasp at freedom! I stayed alive so long because I knew where I was best served. There ain’t any way that slavery is going away. So I decided to manage the best I could.”
Fortune stood dumbstruck by the base admissions he heard. In essence, the real Nathaniel was nothing more than a man of self-preservation. There were no answers to salvage here, only disappointment.
“What choice you had indeed,” replied an angered Fortune. “Those are the words of a vanquished man. Certainly not the elder I looked to for guidance. Perhaps one day you will realize the error of your ways and try to make atonement. You’re lost to me now Nathaniel!”
Nathaniel’s demeanor suddenly turned wicked. “Let me give you a piece of advice Fortune Smith! Forget the mad ideas. Go back, suck up the punishment and get a roof back over your head again. At least you enjoyed some protection at White Rose. How long do you think it will take before they beat you to death on the outside? Imagine their rage when they see you trying to be their equal in their towns! Go back Fortune and I will see you live a long life like me.”
A clenching unease grabbed the soft hollow of Fortune’s stomach. To hear the lives of his six fellows held so cheaply by Nathaniel made no sense. Fortune fought himself to contain his rage at this ultimate betrayal. However, no reckoning would provide tonic to coat this bitter deed. Nathaniel must pay the price for his act of Judas. Of that Fortune was totally convinced.
Breaking the still, Fletcher pressed forwards. “Nathaniel, do you have anything more to say for yourself?”
Nathaniel straightened his stooped head to search for leniency. “Listen to me Fletcher. I only did what would better the lot of my children. I know it does not matter much, but that is what I did.
“I’m sorry it came to this. But I had seen my chance to provide a life which was better for my daughters and I took it! When do slaves get any opportunity to do that? I mean, having a say in our children’s’ future? Can you find fault with me for that? There is no defense to be made because there was no choice to be made.”
Turning to Fortune, Nathaniel continued. “I said what happened, and you can judge me on it. Remember I gave you sight through words and opened up the same wisdom for many others. So ask yourself one thing. How can a man who gave so much good do something so unjust unless forced to do so?”
After hearing Nathaniel’s pleading, neither Fletcher nor Fortune could see any forgiveness for the older man’s actions. Fletcher knew his options were narrowed to one. Accordingly, he replied before Fortune could respond.
“Only you and your conscious know the answer to that riddle. I too outlined what a man who had the interests of
everyone at heart would have done; kept their mouth shut and preserve the sanctity of their oath! In my view, your actions were treasonous.
“I heard all you can say in your own defense. I am left with only one course of action to protect the lives of those that remain. As a judge chosen from a group of your peers, I charge you with high treason causing multiple deaths. There is no more time to waste here. Nathaniel, move towards me. Do it quickly.”
Nathaniel came forward with the look of a man longing to end a hardscrabble existence. He approached within an arm’s lengths of Fletcher and stopped. Fletcher secured the left forearm of Nathaniel and told Fortune to rejoin the others.
Glancing over, Fortune could see the group’s weary faces still carried various expressions of shock. What was about to unfold would only heighten the harvest of grim tidings. As Fortune walked away, Fletcher continued on with the accused.
“Go ahead of me and stop at that stand of trees,” he said. Fletcher motioned their destination to the older man. Moments later, somewhere out of the sightlines of those remaining fugitives, a pitiful groan broke through the solid green confines of a nearby grove. Fletcher soon reappeared to join his charges alone.
“We need to make haste. A lot of time has been lost which must be made up. Plus there were two horses that bolted without a rider. That will definitely attract attention. You have to know when those men don’t return home a whole lot of bother will be stirred up.
“Well someone’s thinking smart! Good to see we gathered their small arms and supplies. Now it’s either to the coast or heaven, so let’s be fleet of foot to reach our preferred destination.”
On those parting words the fugitives resumed their journey. After a few hours, their thoughts settled back to the escape. With eagerness goosed by crimes of capital murder, plantation riders would now go to the far ends of every county to capture Swamp Man’s Scout’s party.
Extra precautions were made at each rest point chosen by Fletcher. The former route was modified to avoid any further ambushes. Also, he no longer appeared in sight of the others. Fletcher acted as an advance scout, leaving Fortune as both rearguard and second in command.
The Watchman's Grace Page 11