The Return of the Freedom Thief

by Mikki Sadil

  “Good job. Come out to camp whenever you want. Take care, now, both of you.” He saluted them, and left the eatery.

  * * *

  Three days later, Ben and Puck were on their way out to the Union camp. After spending the days and half the nights giving out newspapers and listening to people on the street talk, as well as the soldiers, they had little more significant information to deliver to the Union Major. Ben intended giving him the papers Mister Taylor had sent, what little new information he and Puck had gleaned, and then moving on. The problem was, what was he moving on to? None of the soldiers seemed to be talking about the war, about their regiments, or anything else that was significant. Ben was beginning to think he was just wasting his time as a so-called newsboy.

  He was tired, still a little sore from his beating, and disillusioned. He rode silently, ignoring Puck’s efforts at making conversation. Finally, he sighed, picked up the reins and pushed Socks into a slow canter.

  Puck caught up with him. “What are you so gloomy about? You haven’t said a word in ages, and…”

  A muffled CRACK came from the woods that were on either side of the road, and a Minie ball sped in front of them, fortunately missing whatever target it had been set for.

  Puck screamed, Ben yelled “Run!” They spurred the horses into a full-out gallop, shots were being fired behind them, but the horses could outrun the musket balls, as they didn’t have long distance power. In a few minutes, they burst head-long into the midst of the Union camp, and reined the horses to a stop. Union soldiers surrounded them before they could dismount. With their weapons drawn, they looked formidable enough to put a scare into both Ben and Puck.

  “Hey, wait, wait. We’re not here to cause trouble, I have messages for Major Murphy.”

  Ben was quick to raise his hands, as he attempted to explain his and Puck’s abrupt entry into the camp.

  “Messages, huh. Okay, dismount, both of you. Hands in the air, and we’ll just see what messages you have. Quick, now.” The Sergeant prodded Ben in the leg with his musket.

  Ben nodded, and quickly dismounted. Puck was so tired she slid her right leg over the saddle, and simply fell out of it. She hit the ground hard, but didn’t say anything. She pulled herself up, raised her hands, and the Sergeant and three other soldiers marched them over to a large tent.

  “Major, sir, these here young’uns just rode into camp. This’un,” he motioned to Ben, “this’un says he’s got messages for you. Don’t say where or who from.”

  The Major nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant. I think you can leave them with me. I don’t see anything threatening about these two.” He smiled at Puck. “Well, young miss, I’m glad to see you again.” Puck and Ben both realized at almost the same minute that this was the Major from the eatery in Broomville, who had put a stop to the Confederate soldiers beating on Ben.

  “Come on, sit down. Don’t look so surprised, I did invite you out to this camp, right? You both look as if you could do with a cup of coffee. And since we were not properly introduced after your beating, what names do you two go by?”

  Ben sank down into the canvas and wood campaign chair with a big sigh. “My name is Ben McKenna, and this is Puck. She’s traveling with me, and pretending to be my sister. I want to thank you again for getting rid of those muggings. My nose and belly are still sore, but I’m better.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now, what about these messages you have?” He poured mugs of coffee for each of them, from the steaming pot the Sergeant had silently brought in.

  “I have messages for you from Mister Taylor, plus a small bit of information I picked up listening to the Confederates talking. If someone will get my saddle bag, I can give everything to you.”

  * * *

  On the 21st of July, 1861, the first major battle of the Civil War began, and ended more quickly than anyone thought. The Battle of Bull Run was a decisive victory for the Confederates. The espionage that led Ben and others to convey important information to the Union about the Confederate forces building up did no good. The Union forces, under General Irvin McDowell, were so ill-disciplined that, even though their strength was greater than the Confederates, they cut and ran in the midst of the battle, when they realized that the Confederates were a force to be reckoned with, not one that would be easily overtaken. It was after this battle that everyone, both Armies, and the general population, realized that this was a war of substance, and would not be easily and quickly won by either side. If the Confederacy had hoped before this battle that their Bull Run victory would sap the determination of the Union to have a United States, that same victory, ironically, destroyed those hopes.

  When Ben heard about the Confederate victory at Manassas, he was bitterly disappointed. Being young and untried, his first thoughts were that he failed in his very first attempt at being a newsboy spy. He and Puck had run a few “errands” for the Major, carrying information about the Confederates to other Union camps, but now he was sad and disillusioned about the whole thing. He informed Puck that he was returning to Miss Fenaway’s in Kentucky.

  “It’s bad for me to go back there, Ben. You just trying to get rid of me? If you are, just say so, and quit pussy-footing around with me.”

  Ben sighed. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, Puck. But if we go back there, she can help us decide what to do from there. Right now, I feel like…”

  “Ben! There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” The Major walked up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “I want you to get up to a town called Buckley. There’s a big encampment of Confederates there, and we don’t know why. I want you to use your standing as a newsboy to mingle with the soldiers, stick around the camp for a few days and see what you can find out. We need to know why these boys are there, who their commander is, how many troops, and…you know, just what the hell they are up to. When you’ve gotten all you think you can, then you’ll go to this address…” he held out a piece of paper to Ben, “…and the man there will tell you what to do next. If you don’t feel safe for some reason when you see him, ask him for the password. It will be ‘dingleberry.’”

  Ben looked at him quizzically. “’Dingleberry’? What’s that?”

  Major Murphy replied, “It doesn’t matter what it is, or what it means. It’s the password. Either you ask him for it, or he asks you. Simple as that. Now, do you understand what you are to do? I want you to leave within the hour.”

  Puck tapped him on the arm. “Excuse me, but what am I supposed to do? Just follow Ben around like I’ve been doing?”

  “I don’t care, little girl, what you do. Just don’t get in Ben’s way, understand? The result could be painful for you. Both of you. Now, I’ve more important business to take care of than mollycoddle you two. Get your gear together, and get on your way.” He turned away and strode briskly off to his office.

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t see how we can pretend to be newsboys when we don’t have any more newspapers.”

  He stood staring off into space for a minute. Finally, he said, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll go back to Broomville and look around. I didn’t see a newspaper office when we were there, but I wasn’t looking for one. We’ll ask around, and see if they have one, then…”

  “But Ben, that’s where you got beat up. What if those soldiers are still around?” Puck’s voice was shaky, as she remembered how frightened she had been.

  He reached out and gave her a hug. “Look, we have to have newspapers to be newsboys, right? So we’ve got to take the chance. I only want to be there long enough to grab some papers, and then we’ll hightail it out. Come on, let’s saddle up.”

  She gave him a baleful look, but followed him out to the stable. As Ben reached for his saddle, he saw his saddle bag was open. Some papers peeked out of it. They weren’t newspapers, but marked maps of the countryside, and the road they should follow to get to Buckley. He whistled when he saw how far Buckley was from Broomville. This was not going to be an easy ride. Wooded area
s were clearly marked, but the road itself, at times more a path than anything else, was most often through wide open fields. They could easily be stopped by either Union or Confederate forces. But first, they had to get back to town and find a newspaper office. If there was one. If not, Ben had to find a town with a newspaper.

  He decided to see if there was a large town on the way to Buckley. If so, they could try to pick up some there. He looked over the map, and saw the names of towns along the way. However, there was no way to tell if one were bigger than another. He sighed, folded the map and put it into his saddle bag.

  “What’s wrong, Ben?”

  “I was hoping we could find a big town along the way, but the map doesn’t show size. So, to be safe, we need to get back to Broomville. Mount up.”

  * * *

  Night had fallen by the time they reached Broomville. Just as they cleared the woods, and came up on the hill where they had stopped to look over the town below them, a figure stepped out in front of them. The horses snorted, and stopped of their own accord. Before Ben could speak, the figure said, “Ben McKenna, you are under arrest by order of the Marshal’s Office in McKenna’s Crossroads, Woodford County, Kentucky. Take your hands offen them reins, and get down offen that horse. Real slow like.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Union vs Confederate: Ben’s Confusion

  Ben sat as if frozen. Arrested? By Marshal Kendrick’s office? I didn’t steal Grammy’s horse, or anything else from Pa. It’s not illegal to run away, so what in blue blazes does this guy want?

  “I said, get down from your horse. Now.”

  Ben continued to sit still. “Who are you? And why do you think you can arrest me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  The man sneered. “I don’t answer your questions. But if you don’t get down off that horse, my men will get you down.”

  At that moment, he gestured towards the woods, and four men came riding up. They surrounded Ben and Puck. One of them said, “Hey, Brandon, you didn’t tell us about this here wench. My, my, she’s a tasty little peach, ain’t she?”

  He reached over to grab Puck, but that was a mistake. She pulled her booted foot out of the stirrup, swung her leg up, and raked the man’s arm with her spur. It spouted blood all over him, and her boot. He yelled and pulled his horse back, just as Puck put her other spur into Bandit’s side and pulled hard on the reins. He reared up, almost unseating Puck. She recovered quickly, spurred him again, and took off down the hill.

  When Puck raked her spur down the man’s arm, the man facing Ben turned slightly to see what was causing one of his men to yell. At the same moment Puck spurred Bandit, Ben put his spurs into Socks’ sides, and yanked hard on the reins. Socks reared with his front legs straight out in front of him. He knocked the man with the gun on the ground, and before any of the five men realized what was happening, Socks was galloping after Bandit.

  Ben shouted, “Go, Puck! Don’t stop, head for town!”

  He heard, rather than felt, the bullets zinging past, but both he and Puck were out of range long before the men could reload. Minutes later, they were on Broomville’s main street. The street was brightly lit by the many lanterns shopkeepers hung near their doors, and by the tall oil street lamps that stood on both sides of the street. Even after nightfall, the street was crowded.

  They slowed the horses, and mingled with the others.

  As they walked slowly along, Puck said, “Ben, who were those men? Why did they come to arrest you?”

  “I don’t know who they were, but they weren’t from the Marshal’s office. They didn’t have badges, and one thing Marshal Kendrick was always strict about, was that his men always wore their badges. I don’t know how they knew my name or where I came from, but we’ve got to get away from here.”

  “You mean tonight?”

  Ben thought. He sighed. “No, not tonight. We’ll go back to that hotel where we stayed before. Maybe Buster can put us up again. We’ve got to get newspapers from somewhere tomorrow then we can hightail it out of here.”

  Puck kept looking behind her. “You know they’ll be here, looking for us. They know what we look like, but we don’t know about them. Ben, how’re we going to get away?” Her voice quavered, and Ben knew she was frightened again. He didn’t feel so brave right now, either. He didn’t speak until they reached the end of Main Street. He turned Socks down a small side street, dark and unlit by lanterns. After a short distance, he stopped.

  “Ben, what are you doing? I thought we were going back to the hotel.”

  “Puck, we are. But I’ve got to do something first. Here, hold my reins.”

  He handed her the reins, and slid down. He walked around the street, looking at the ground. Puck wiggled around in her saddle, becoming more impatient, and scared, by the minute. Just as she started to question Ben again, he stopped. He knelt down, and scratched around in the dirt. “Bring Socks over here, okay?”

  Puck brought the big gelding over to him. “What in thunder are you doing, Ben? You’re scratching around in that dirt like some dumb old chicken.”

  “I was looking for some damp dirt. Look, Socks was named for the white part of his legs, from his hooves up. That white part goes up about six or seven inches. So I’m going to rub all his legs with this wet dirt to cover up the white. He won’t be so easy to spot, then.” He was busy rubbing the dirt on Socks’ legs as he spoke.

  A few minutes later, and Socks’ legs were almost as black as he was. Ben stood and looked over his work. “Well, I don’t know how long that dirt will stick to him, but it’s good enough for now. Let’s get back to the hotel.” He swung back up into the saddle, and took the reins from Puck. “Let’s see if we can get across the tracks this way, instead of having to go down Main Street again.”

  Before they could move, they heard the rumble of horses galloping. Ben pulled Socks back up against one of the buildings away from the main street. “Puck, get over here. Get as close to the building as you can. That noise might be those men looking for us.” He pulled his pistol out of his holster. Puck made a strangled noise, and Ben whispered, “Shh. I’m not going to use this unless I have to, but we’re not going with those men. They aren’t Marshals. I don’t know who they are, but I know that much.”

  The horses seemed to slow down just before they came to the street Ben and Puck were on. They could hear men’s voices. It was obvious they were looking for Ben. One of the men walked his horse a short distance into the street, but it was so dark he couldn’t see anything. He sat there for a few minutes, then snorted, yanked his horse around and went back to the main street. They could hear him say to the other men, “Well, that muggings is gone again. No sense wasting time here, he’ll have cleared outta town by now.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s go get a drink. This ridin’ after a ghost is gettin’ to me.” Other voices were heard, but Ben couldn’t make out what they said. The clatter of hooves as they galloped down Main Street faded away in a short time.

  “That was close, Ben. I’m scared, I’m tired, and I’m hungry. Can we go find that hotel now?” Puck’s voice was peevish, but lacked the defiance it usually had.

  “Yeah, I think now would be a good time to go.”

  * * *

  A short time later, Ben and Puck unsaddled their horses in the barn behind Buster’s hotel. He had decided if Buster didn’t have rooms for them, they would just bed down with the horses. He was sure Buster wouldn’t mind, and they were both too exhausted to look further for a room.

  The hotel door was locked, but the lantern was still lit. Ben banged on the door, and called out to Buster.

  “Well, now, you don’t have to break down my door, young sir. You are back from your errand so soon? And looking for a room?”

  “Yes, we need rooms for the night, Buster. If you don’t have anything, is it all right if we just bed down in the barn?”

  Buster looked Ben up and down. “Hmm, you look pretty tired and dirty to me. I have only one room, with one bed. Come
in, don’t just stand there looking lost.”

  A few minutes later, Ben and Puck walked into a small room with one small bed. Ben threw the saddlebags and bed rolls down on the floor. “You take the bed, I’ll take the floor. With both bedrolls, it won’t be so bad.”

  A knock came at the door. Ben opened it to find Alice standing there, holding a tray in one hand, and a pillow and blanket in the other.

  “Here,” she thrust the tray at Ben. “I scrounged up some leftovers from our dinner tonight. Buster said thee looked like two homeless waifs, so I figured thee could use some hot food. Coffee is fresh and hot, thy bowls are full of stew. Also, Buster said thee would probably be sleeping on the floor, so a pillow and blanket might be of a help.” She tossed them into the room, and looked again at Ben. “Eat, I’ll pick up thy tray in the morn.” She turned and started to walk away, as Ben said, “Thanks so much, we’ll pay…”

  She interrupted, and looked over her shoulder at him. “No, no pay necessary. We Quakers like to do good deeds now and again.” She laughed, and disappeared around a corner.

  Puck snatched the tray out of his hands. “Oh, this smells so good! I’m nearly starved. Look, stew, coffee, and some biscuits with butter. It’s a feast!” She put the tray down on the bed, and dived into one of the bowls. “Oh, hur, Ben, hur’s yer bwol.” With her mouth full of stew, she could barely speak.

  He laughed at her, and grabbed the bowl she held out. The aroma of meat, potatoes, onions, carrots, string beans, and mushrooms blended together with a few spices he couldn’t name, created a heavenly smell. It didn’t take long for everything on the tray to disappear.