The Return of the Freedom Thief

by Mikki Sadil

  A moment later, the front door opened, and Ben heard his pa say, “Yes, I’m here. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “Well, for now, I suggest you allow us the courtesy of using your parlor to talk. We have things to discuss with you.”

  “I just might be willing to do that, if you’ll tell me your names first, and where you are from.” Pa’s voice was polite but firm.

  Ben heard another voice, as well as the scraping of feet. “Mister McKenna, my name is Bobby Ross, and I has me a farm over to Peterson, in Indiana. The Union Army just set up a camp on my property. This here gentleman with me is Colonel James Price. We’d be obliged to talk with you about hemp.”

  “Gentlemen, please come in and we’ll talk.”

  Ben hurried over to his basin and poured the water out the window. He pulled on a clean shirt, stuffed it in his pants, and walked as quietly as possible to the broad staircase leading down to the foyer. At the bottom of the stairs, just underneath, was a small space blocked from sight by a love seat that had been there for as long as Ben could remember. He knew from past experiences as a child that he could hide there, hear what was going on in the parlor, and not be seen. He used to come here to hide from his mother when she wanted him to go to town with her, and he wanted to continue playing. He remembered she would finally give up trying to find him, impatiently tell one of the house slaves to find him, and she would leave. As soon as she was gone, he would come out of hiding and go up to his room. The house slaves always seemed to know where he was, but they would just smile obediently at his mother, and never say a word.

  Now, he sat down with his legs folded, and prepared to listen to whatever it was that a Union Colonel and his pa had to say to one another.

  Pa was saying, “May I offer you something in the way of a small libation, perhaps to cool down from your long journey here?”

  The rough voice said politely, “Yes, that would be agreeable. But we need to get on with our discussion, and the reason for this impromptu visit.”

  “Certainly, Colonel. One moment, please.” Pa paused long enough to ring for Maya, his personal house servant.

  “Now, what is this conversation you wish to have about hemp?”

  Before the Colonel could respond, Maya appeared, and Pa gave her orders for the cold drinks.

  The Colonel frowned when the black woman came into the room and interrupted him even before he could speak.

  “Your slave, I presume, McKenna? You have no house servants that you pay?”

  Pa snorted. “Pay a servant? That’s a ridiculous idea, Colonel. Can we get on with why you are here?”

  Ben knew from his voice that Pa was just about through being polite. He hoped the Colonel would tell Pa why he was here, and what he wanted about the hemp, before Ma discovered that he was not where he was supposed to be.

  “McKenna, I’ve heard you have one of the largest hemp plantations in Kentucky. You have surely heard that war between the Northern States and the Southern States is a foregone conclusion now. I also know that your Governor wishes for Kentucky to be a declared neutrality, but that is not going to happen. I…”

  “One minute, Colonel. It is no secret that Governor Magoffin wants this state to be neutral, but why is it you say that isn’t going to happen? Why would you be so presumptive?”

  Ben could hear the controlled anger in his father’s voice, and knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his temper.

  “I believe I am in a position to know better than you what is going to happen with this state. Kentucky is a border state, bounded on one side by the Ohio River, so it is of critical importance to this war. However, McKenna, that is not what we came here to discuss with you.”

  The Colonel rose and began pacing, before saying, “War is here, whether we want it to be or not. It no longer matters what this state intends to do or not do. McKenna, you have hundreds of acres of prime hemp. You have many slaves…”

  He was interrupted again by Maya, who laid a tray down on a table. It held sparkling crystal glasses, a pitcher of lemonade, and an opened bottle of brandy. She nodded to Pa, and without speaking, quietly left the room.

  The Colonel picked up a glass, twirled it in his fingers, and promptly poured two fingers of brandy in it. He took a sip, and continued. “As I was saying, you have many slaves, which is unfortunate, but since they are here, I intend to offer you bonuses if you will increase your production of hemp, and sell it to the Union Army. We need as much as we can get for ropes and other equipment. We also need the seed the hemp contains, as we can use that in a variety of food for our troops. Are you interested?’

  After a moment, Pa said, “And if I say no, I’m not interested, what then?”

  The Colonel was impatient. “For heaven’s sake, man, have you lost your reason? Why would you say no? However, in the event you refuse to cooperate, your fields will be confiscated and the crops will be harvested under Union guard and then delivered to my camp immediately thereafter.”

  Pa’s voice was harsh and cold. “Let’s understand one another, Colonel Price. I don’t cotton to being threatened. I am not in the service of any Army, and I don’t take orders from you or anyone. I have no intention of selling my hemp to anyone other than the Confederation of Southern States. So far, Kentucky is still a neutrality, and as such, neither the Union nor the Confederacy has any say as to what I do with my crops. You send men here to this plantation, and I promise you a fight that you will not win.”

  Pa stopped talking long enough to light up a cigar. Ben could smell the cigar’s aroma, and knew the Colonel would not be in the house much longer. From past history, Pa never smoked unless he was seriously riled up.

  Ben saw his father pause at the door to the parlor. He scooted back under the staircase to be sure Pa didn’t see him when he ushered the Colonel and Mister Ross out the door.

  “Now, Colonel Price, I bid you and Mister Ross good day. I want you off this plantation immediately. The law is on my side, Colonel, and until that changes, you have no call to ever be in my sight again. Now get out!”

  The two men walked out of the house, and a few moments later, Ben heard the horses galloping down the road.

  Before Ben could get out of his hiding place and back into his room, Ma came down the stairs.

  “Tom, what did those men want? Why was there a Union officer in our home?” She was clearly agitated.

  “Laura, now don’t come all undone. It was nothing important. This Union Colonel came from some camp across the river, wanting to give me some kind of bonus to sell the hemp to his army. Of course, that’s not going to happen. Come, let’s go…”

  Once Pa’s voice faded out, and Ben knew they were going back to the kitchen, he scooted out from under the stairs and ran up to his room. He had a lot of thinking to do.

  * * *

  On April 27th, the Provisional Army of the Confederate States began organizing, calling for volunteers. The morning of April 28th, as soon as the family sat down to breakfast, Andrew and James began talking excitedly.

  “Pa, James and I are going to volunteer. We plan on leaving today for Louisville. Is that okay with you and Ma?” Andrew was grinning from ear to ear, as he stabbed a thick piece of bacon from the tray to put on his plate.

  “Yeah, Pa, me and Andrew are going to be soldiers! More ‘n that, we’re going to be heroes, I bet. We’re going to send those Union muggings back to where they came from.”

  “You and Andrew going to do this all by yourselves, James? Win the war all by yourselves?” Ben couldn’t help the scorn in his voice, as he watched his brothers acting like jackanapes around the breakfast table.

  “Yeah, well, at least we’ll be defending the honor of the McKenna family, instead of spitting on it like you did.” James pounded on the table, making all the dishes bounce.

  “All right, stop this immediately.” Pa’s voice was loud and harsh. “Benjamin, considering your place in this family today, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, finish your bre
akfast, and get out of here and get to work.” He glared at Ben, before turning to Andrew.

  “Andrew, your mother and I knew you boys would be going. We are very proud of you both. We will be doing our part here at home. The slaves will be working harder and longer, as we need to increase the hemp production. I intend to sell it to the Confederate Army, of course. They will need it for ropes and…”

  James interrupted his father, as he sneered at Ben. “Yeah, Pa, lots of ropes, probably to hang traitors to our cause, like this’un here.”

  “James, that’s enough. Ben is still your brother. I won’t tolerate such talk in my house.” Grammy spoke sharply as she rapped her spoon on the table. “Enough of this talk of war right now. Andrew, if you boys are going to be leaving soon, you had better be outfitting your knapsacks with whatever you are supposed to take. I will instruct Savanna to wrap up some vittles for you. I suggest you get a move on. Now.”

  Ben stood, and looked at both his brothers in turn. “Andrew, James, I wish you the best of luck wherever you’re going. I know you don’t care, but I still love you. You’ll always be my brothers, no matter what.” He left the room and went out to begin his day’s work, ignoring the tears in his eyes.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Ben walked up to the well not too far from the kitchen door. He took a long drink of the cool water, then dipped his handkerchief into the bucket to wipe his face. He heard the sound of horses’ hooves behind him. He turned to see his brothers on their horses, their saddle bags bulging, and a heavy sleeping roll attached to the back of each saddle.

  Andrew leaned over his horse’s neck. “The least you can do, Ben, is to work your righteous ass off in those fields so the men, like us, can have everything we need to win this war. And you can bet your buttons the Confederacy is going to win!”

  “That’s right, we’re going to win this war, you just wait and see. And Ben, you ought not be helping any more slaves to run off, ‘cause if you do, I’ll come after you myself. And you won’t ever be coming home, then.” James gave his brother a smug look as he tightened his hands on the reins.

  With that, the two turned their horses and rode around to the front of the house.

  He knew his brothers would never again accept him as part of the family. The sadness he felt was like a solid stone in his heart. Nevertheless, he followed them silently to where his parents and grandmother, and all the house slaves, gathered to send his brothers off to war. He stood at the corner of the house, shielded by the large roses that grew so profusely in front of the wide porch. Each of his brothers leaned down to hug their father, and kiss their mother and grandmother. With big grins, whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs, Andrew and James galloped off to a war that guaranteed huge losses and few victories.

  Chapter Four:

  A Decision is Made

  That night, supper was very quiet and subdued. No one spoke, except to say politely, “Pass the potatoes, please,” or something to that effect. When Ben finished, he excused himself and went up to his room. He had hardly sat down on his bed when Grammy knocked on his door.

  “Ben, why don’t you come to my room, and let’s talk a bit.” She turned and walked away without waiting for an answer.

  Ben knew when he had been summoned. A minute later, he sat down on the window seat in the bay window. “You wanted to talk to me, Grammy?”

  “Yes, Ben. You are fifteen now. Not a man grown, but well on your way. Are you planning to serve your father in the fields for as long as he wants you to? You must know, now that the boys have gone to this inglorious war of theirs that he will instruct Samson to work the slaves unmercifully, until they start to drop. That will include you. Are you prepared for that?”

  Ben sighed. “I guess I’ve thought all along that somewhere, somehow, Pa and Ma would look to me as their son again. I know that’s not going to happen, not even with Ma. But no, I’m not going to work the fields much longer. I have been reflecting on this, and have some ideas.”

  “Have you thought about volunteering for the Confederacy?”

  “Grammy, how could you ask that? Of course not! First off, you know I wouldn’t fight for the right to continue slavery. And now, with Andrew and James in the Army, I couldn’t join the Union Army. I might accidentally run up against one of my brothers in a battle. I could never shoot at one of them.”

  “I was pretty sure of that, just wanted to ask.” She shook her head. “It’s going to be impossible for Kentucky to remain neutral. We are in such a bad position for this war, with the Ohio River being a major thoroughfare. I suspect your father is going to be getting lots of visitors from both sides of this controversy, so whatever you are going to do, you best think about doing it sooner rather than later.”

  Ben stood and kissed his grandmother on the cheek. ‘You’re right, Grammy. I reckon I still need to think on this some, but as soon as I figure out some things, I’ll come talk to you.”

  * * *

  A few days later, Ben was up with the sun, getting dressed for yet another day in the fields. He could hear the shouts of slaves already up and working, as Samson had ordered them to be out in the fields at the moment of daylight. They worked through the day, and collapsed in their houses as soon as it became too dark to see.

  Samson had been using his whip indiscriminately, pushing the slaves until they literally fell in the dirt. Some of the men worked through the day with drops of blood clinging to the scratches the whip inflicted. This kind of punishment usually prompted runaways, but with the country in such disarray, most of the slaves were afraid to run. At the moment, they had no idea if they would be captured and hung, or perhaps forced into another kind of slavery in the Army. At least on the plantation, they had food and a bed to sleep in, no matter how debilitating their work day was.

  Ben reflected on the one time Samson had come after him with the whip. When Ben ousted him onto the ground, Samson’s attitude had changed towards him. He still worked Ben as hard as he ever had, but he seemed to have some respect for him, and he never again had raised the whip towards him. He also understood that with Ben allowed to be in the house at night, he would not be working before daylight as the other slaves did.

  He opened his door to go down to the kitchen for his breakfast, when once again he heard horses pounding up the road. Shouts of ‘whoa,’ along with some choice name calling, almost overrode other shouts of “Mister McKenna, we need to talk.”

  Ben hurried down the front staircase to the hiding place beneath it, just as his father opened the front door.

  Four Confederate soldiers stood at the front door. All four saluted smartly, then one of them said, “Mister McKenna, I am Major Scott from Fort Anderson over to Paducah. We’re a supply depot, and I’m here to talk with you about horses and hemp.” He laughed, a bit self-consciously.

  Pa smiled, and opened the door wide. “Of course, Major, please come in.” He led the four officers into the parlor, and rang for Maya.

  The slave who came into the parlor was tall, slender, and dressed in the long plaid dress and full white pinafore apron that was the uniform for house slaves. She was young and pretty.

  “Maya, hot coffee and biscuits for these gentlemen. Immediately, please.”

  She nodded without speaking, and left the room.

  Before Pa could speak again, one of the younger officers said with a smirk, “Well, Mister McKenna, I do so admire your taste in slaves. This’un’s real purdy, even if she’s black as a raven’s wing.”

  The Major said sharply, “Lieutenant Williams, mind your manners, and keep your mouth shut. I’ll have none of that, you understand?”

  He turned to Pa. “I apologize, Mister McKenna. My officers sometimes need both a primary on manners, and a lock on mouths.”

  “No offense taken, Major. Now, let’s get down to business. What is it you want?”

  The Major settled himself into a winged chair, just as Maya came back. She was balancing a large tray with a heavy pot of coffee
, a small dish of raw sugar, a pitcher of cream and five mugs. Behind her came a young girl carrying a tray of steaming hot biscuits, five small china plates and a pile of folded linen napkins. Maya laid her tray down first, and gently helped the younger girl with hers. She nodded to the other young slave, and they both backed silently out the door.

  Major Scott poured a cup of coffee, and helped himself to a biscuit. “Well, sir, you have got yourself a high name throughout this state for both the kind of hemp you grow, and, perhaps more important, the Thoroughbred horses you breed. The Confederacy is in dire need of both. I have high hopes of making a deal with you to supply us with what we need. What do you say?”

  Pa poured a mug full of coffee, put a spoonful of sugar in it, stirred it carefully and took a long sip. He put the mug down, wiped his mustache carefully with a napkin, and said, “What kind of deal are you suggesting, Major?”

  The Major smiled. “This is what I am authorized to do. Hemp today is going for around $180 a ton. I will buy your hemp for $240 a ton. That’s twelve cents a pound, which is considerably more than you will get on the open market. Then there’s the horse market. We need quality horses, and you’ve got them. I…”

  “My horses are bred for racing, Major, not for war. They come from some of the finest breed lines in this country.”

  “Mister McKenna, I fully understand that. But we need well-bred and well-built horses, and yours are among the finest. I will give you $175 per head. Since the average cost of a horse on the market is anywhere from $90 to $150 per head, you simply cannot turn this deal down.”

  Pa shook his head. “That’s not the point, Major Scott. I breed my animals to race, and they usually win. There is considerably more profit for me in racing than there is for me to sell the horses to the Confederacy. Besides, my horses are not bred for carrying heavy loads. Their legs are long and slender, not short and stout as you would normally need for the work of war.”