The Return of the Freedom Thief

by Mikki Sadil

  He held out the jacket while Ben slipped into it. It fit perfectly, just as all the clothes had that Mistress Henshaw had given him. He ran his hands along the sleeves, but couldn’t tell that there was anything sewn into them. No giveaway, if he was caught.

  Ben smiled again at the old man before him, and mounted up. He took up the reins before saying, “Thanks, Joesie, for everything. You are a great help to us all.” He gave him a small, two-fingered salute, and rode towards the gate, and out into the unknown, once again.

  * * *

  Outside of Allentown, Ben stopped and drew out the map. The marks Mistress Henshaw had put there showed a long journey ahead to the border between Virginia and Maryland, and that border was the Potomac River. With good weather, and a lot of luck thrown in, Ben figured it would still take him the better part of a week to reach his destination. He would be going through several small towns, and it would not surprise him to find either Confederate or Union soldiers in any of them. This was not going to be an easy mission.

  He gathered the reins, and put his spurs into Mack’s sides. The big horse moved out immediately, and settled into a fast, smooth canter. He was well-proportioned, heavily muscled, with a long back and long, strong legs. Riding him was almost like sitting in a rocking chair. Ben settled into the saddle, and both time and distance passed rapidly by.

  I wish I knew how Puck was. I wish I knew that she was still with Glory, and she was safe. She can be so unpredictable. I hope Glory was able to keep her there, keep her working and out of trouble. Hah! Out of trouble? That’s a laugh. She was always more trouble than she was worth. I miss her. More than I thought I would.

  Sounds of gunfire brought Ben’s attention into the present. He slowed Mack to a walk, and then stopped. It wasn’t just gunfire. Sounds of men talking, of equipment of some kind being moved along the road quickly became loud and clear. Ben moved Mack off the road and into the thick forest. He pulled him behind a thicket of heavy brush almost as tall as the trees. He slipped out of the saddle, and held Mack’s head, placing his hand around his jaw to prevent him from nickering.

  The sounds came from Confederate soldiers on the move with some heavy artillery being drawn by large mules. The men were not mounted, but were foot soldiers. The artillery consisted of three cannons, one of which appeared to have a hole in it. Ben snickered to himself, wondering why they would have bothered to keep this particular cannon, which probably would never fire another shot. The men themselves looked tired, didn’t bother to keep in any kind of formation. Some of them showed evidence of wounds, with arms in slings, bandages wrapped around a few heads, and even a couple trying to keep up on home-made crutches. Mack moved impatiently, and the sound of the leaves crunching under his feet made Ben cringe. He shushed the horse, hoping that sound didn’t reach out to the road. If it did, no one paid any attention.

  After a while, the last of the company had moved out of sight. Ben waited a few more minutes, not wanting to be surprised by stragglers, but no more came by. Now, however, he had a decision to make: this road would put him right behind the soldiers. He would have to move past them, through them, to continue his journey. He looked at his map, but this was the only designated road. Otherwise, it meant fighting through the forest.

  I don’t know anything about this part of the country. I could easily get lost in the forest, end up miles and miles from where I’m supposed to be. Or maybe just not ever get out of it.

  He shuddered at that thought, and put the map away. Mounting Mack, he put him into a canter once more and headed straight for the Confederate soldiers.

  It didn’t take him long to catch up. The soldiers were not marching, just plodding along. It was obvious they were exhausted, and were moving the best they could to reach their next destination. Ben drew Mack down to a walk, and guided him along the edge of the soldiers. Most did not even look up at him, until he got to the front of the line. A Lieutenant saw him starting to pass by, and called out to his men, “Halt! You there, stop!” The men came to a stumbling halt, probably glad of a short opportunity to rest. Ben reined in his horse. “Yes sir, what can I do for you?”

  The Lieutenant glared at him, and unsnapped the flap on his holster. “Who are you, and where are you going?”

  “Uh, I’m, uh, I’m trying to find the Potomac River, sir. I’m headed to Maryland to stay with some relatives.”

  The Lieutenant studied him for a moment. “You look like a healthy young man. Why aren’t you in the Army?”

  Ben’s heart started racing. Was this man going to try to conscript him into his troops? He had no idea how to answer, so he remained quiet.

  The Lieutenant drew his pistol. His voice was deadly calm. “I repeat, why are you not in the Army? We need all the young men like you that we can get. So either answer my question, or get down off that horse. Now.”

  Ben drew in a deep breath, feeling his heart thud. That gave him an idea.

  “Sir, I tried to enlist, but the doctors found something wrong with my heart. That’s why I’m headed to Maryland, my relatives told me they knew of a good heart doctor who might be able to help me.” He knew if that answer didn’t satisfy this officer, he was probably going to become, in effect at least, a prisoner of the Lieutenant.

  A long minute of silence, while the officer stared at Ben, who knew that if he looked away, he was a goner. Finally, the Lieutenant holstered his pistol. “All right, you look like you’re telling the truth. Sorry about the heart thing. Go on, get on your way, you can travel faster than my men. Good luck.”

  Ben nodded at him, took up the reins and moved Mack away from the officer and his men. He spurred him gently, and Mack settled down into his fast and comfortable canter. When Ben was out of sight of the soldiers, he drew Mack to a stop. His hands trembled on the reins, and his shoulders were so tight with tension he could hardly move them. That was close. I reckon that Lieutenant was just about to haul me off of Mack, and make me a part of his soldiers. They might even have found the papers in this jacket, and he could have had me shot, right then.

  He heaved another big sigh, and wiggled his shoulders up and down and back and forth to relax the tension. He took a swig of water from his canteen, and put Mack back into his canter. A few minutes later, he felt the tension drain out of him, and he picked up his speed by spurring the horse into a gallop.

  * * *

  Four uneventful days later, Ben was tired, famished, and wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week in an actual bed. He was tired of bedrolls and rocky ground to sleep on, and his food had run out the day before. He had had a few little pieces of one hard biscuit, and a small bit of ham for a late afternoon snack, and nothing since but water. At least he had found plenty of that around, both for him and for Mack. Mack seemed content to munch on whatever he could forage from the fields or forest floors that Ben had bedded down on, but Ben was sure he would savor a big flake of real alfalfa hay.

  Now, Ben and Mack were approaching a small town, which he thought was on his map. He drew the horse to a stop, and pulled the map out of the saddle bag. He hoped he wouldn’t run into any soldiers who tried to make trouble for him. He needed food, and if possible, time for a little nap. There had been Confederate soldiers in one town, Union in another, but fortunately, none of them had paid him any mind. He had been able to go into the towns, buy some food, and then had usually camped out on the far side of each one without any problems. He had followed the roads laid out for him on the map, although there were several time when those roads became nothing more than rocky paths, heavily overgrown with sticky, thorny weeds that scratched Mack’s legs. Still, he figured he had come through the way Mistress Henshaw anticipated. Until now. This town wasn’t on the map.

  He moved Mack out into a trot. The sun was hot overhead, and Ben wanted nothing more than to find a place where he could get a meal, and rest up for a while before crossing the river. The map showed him one of the three places he could safely ford the river and come out on the other side into Mary
land. Although the town wasn’t on the map, it seemed to be just above one of those three places.

  Ben came into the main street of the town. A weather-beaten sign, sagging on its post, said “Welcome to Mansville.” He drew Mack down into a walk, and started down the street. The town was quiet. Too quiet. There was no horse or carriage traffic, and no people walking about.

  Mack’s hoof beats on the empty dirt street sounded loud enough to be beats of a drum to Ben.

  He passed the closed doors of several small shops, an eatery, a saloon which proclaimed both the best beer and the best female dancers in town, another saloon, a tiny bank, and finally, at the end of the street, a small hotel. He headed for the hotel, dismounted and tied Mack up to the hitching rail. The door was closed, and no sounds came from within.

  Ben tried the knob of the door, and found it was unlocked. He opened it, and walked in. The room was very small, with two rocking chairs on one side, a little round table between them. The other side was taken up with a counter, behind which was a flat board with room numbers and keys hanging on them. None of the five rooms seemed to be occupied. As Ben stood there, wondering what to do next, he became aware of an odor he had never smelled before. At once, it seemed to overpower him. He coughed, covered his nose and mouth with his hand, and walked to the counter. He leaned over it, and gagged at what he saw. Two men lay on the floor, covered in blood. He gagged again, and ran out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Ben leaned against Mack until his stomach settled, and the air he breathed became fresh again. What in tarnation is going on here? Those men are dead, there’s no one on the street. I think I’ll check out the eatery, maybe there’s a cook or someone there who knows what’s happened here.

  A few minutes later, Ben realized that this was a ghost town. There had been people in the eatery, but all were dead, shot like the men at the hotel. He went into the bank, such as it was, but again, the one teller had been shot, his money drawer was empty, and the small safe sitting by a large desk, had been opened and emptied. The man behind the desk was also dead.

  He mounted up, and decided the best thing for him to do was to hightail it out of this town as fast as Mack could take him. On second thought, he was famished, and with all he had seen, lightheaded as well. Maybe he should at least try to find some food, as unpleasant as that might be. He headed to one of the shops with a sign designating it as the local market, tied Mack up, and went inside. Three people lay on the floor, two women and one man wearing what had once been a white apron. He put his hand over his mouth again, this time to prevent his stomach from erupting, and looked around. He found a cloth bag on the floor, and put in it some apples, several cans of beans and stewed fruit, and a box of biscuits. He didn’t stay long enough to look for anything else.

  * * *

  Ben woke up to a late afternoon sun. He had ridden out of that horrible town, and not stopped for several miles. He was back in the forest, but now near the banks of the Potomac River. Once he stopped, he had been sicker than he had ever been. He led Mack past where he had thrown up, so tired he could not have even mounted the horse again. He tied him loosely to a tree, unrolled his bedroll, and was asleep almost before he laid down.

  Now, as he sat up, his mouth was dry as a bone. Mack was still tied up, but also asleep with his head hanging almost to the ground. He woke up and nickered when Ben took his canteen down. He rinsed his mouth out several times then took a long swallow of water. He could hear the tinkle of water running swiftly over rocks back into the forest, so he untied Mack and led him in the direction of the sound. The creek was clear and cold and Mack drank his fill. Ben refilled his canteen, and returned to retrieve his bedroll.

  He took out his carving knife from one of the saddle bags, and opened a can of beans from the store. He emptied that can with little trouble, and felt his stomach rumble appreciatively. It wasn’t much to eat, but more than he’d had for more than a day.

  I don’t know what happened in that town, but I’m not going back to see if anyone is alive. When I get across to Maryland, I’ll find a sheriff and tell them about it. Maybe they’ll know what to do. But now I’ve got to get across the river.

  Ben led Mack carefully down to the sandy banks of the Potomac. However, this was not the quiet, smooth-flowing river Mistress Henshaw had told him about, as far as fording it was concerned. The river was rushing, roiling, as far as he could see. It crashed over huge rocks, and he could see white water in the distance. White water meant rapids, and rapids meant serious trouble. He walked Mack up the narrow beach a short distance, but found no difference in the way the river was flowing. Right where he stood seemed to be the quietest place to cross, and still, the river’s current was fast and unstable.

  “Hey, mister! Mister, can you help us?’ The frantic voice came from behind him, in the woods, and startled him so much he reached for his pistol.

  What in tarnation…

  Three children came out of the woods mounted on small ponies. Two boys and a girl, all aged about eleven or twelve years old. As they rode up to him, he saw that the boys were twins, and the girl obviously a sister. All were blonde, blue-eyed, with freckled faces. Their clothes were torn and dirty, and the girl had blood on the front of her riding skirt. A closer glance told him the boys also had blood on their clothes.

  They rode up to him, and one of the boys said, “Please, mister, help us. Our family was killed back in town. We have to get away before those men come back. Our grandparents are just across the river, and we need to get to them. But we’re afraid to cross the river by ourselves.”

  Ben stared at them. He could see tear tracks on their faces, and the girl was brushing her arm across her nose to still its running.

  “I just rode through that town a short time ago. What happened, do you know? But first, who are you? My name’s Ben.”

  “I’m John, that’s my brother Will, and my sister Betsy. We were out for a ride. We heard shooting, and started back. We saw some men riding hard away, and when we got back, our parents and older brother had been shot. Our Ma was dead, but before Pa died, he said the men shot up the town and we should get across the river. That’s all then he died.”

  Betsy began crying again, but Will handed her a handkerchief with a few spots of blood on it. She blew her nose, and tried to stop the sobs.

  Ben didn’t know what to do or say. A band of men shot up an entire town? Why? What was the reason for that?

  He looked at the children, and said, “John, do you have any idea why this happened? Was something going on in the town that those men didn’t like?”

  The boy shook his head. “I don’t know. A new railroad is coming this way, and our town was supposed to have a stop there. Most people didn’t want the railroad, they said it would make the town grow and allow bad people to come there. That’s all I know.”

  “Were these men part of the town?”

  “Pa would of said if they were, but he didn’t.”

  Before Ben could respond, the little girl burst out. “I wanna go! I wanna go across the river and find Granny and Grampa. Quit talking, John, so we can just go now!”

  She took up the reins of her pony, but Ben reached over and grabbed them. “No, wait! Let me help, Betsy. We have to find a calm place to cross. Right here looks too swift.”

  Will spoke for the first time. His voice was deeper than his twin’s. “Can’t find a quieter place. Downriver are rapids, can’t cross there. Upriver is quieter but too far away. Gotta be here.” His sentences were short and crisp, as though he didn’t want to waste words.

  Ben sighed. Having the responsibility of three kids only a few years younger than himself was not something he wanted to do. He didn’t see as how he had any choice, however.

  “All right, let’s go. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go first, you follow me, and you go one at a time. John, you first, Betsy next, then Will. Will, you look out for your sister, hear me? You guide those ponies exactly where I go. Can you do that?”

/>   John nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been in the river before, but it was upriver a long ways, like Will said, before the river gets deep. Our pa took us camping there. The ponies are good swimmers, but it’s deeper here than where we were.”

  “Okay, here we go.” Ben mounted Mack and spurred him into the river. The water was colder than he expected, and the current ran fast. Mack settled and began to fight the current. Ben could hear the children behind him, but he couldn’t afford to look back to see if they were all right. He had to concentrate on holding the reins tight and steady, and continue to urge Mack ahead. The water got deeper and was freezing cold. Mack was swimming hard, but only slowly making headway. He could hear Betsy crying, but there was no way he could help her or the boys. He prayed the ponies could keep their heads above water. If not, they and the children would drown.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Footprints in the Sand, and the Children

  Mack was snorting and tossing his head, battling the current. Ben could hear the children behind him crying, and knew they were terribly frightened. He was not feeling all that brave right then, either. He called over his shoulder to them.

  “Come on, kids, kick those ponies and keep them moving. They’ll be fine, they will get you across.”

  This was something he definitely was not sure of. The ponies was not nearly as tall as Mack, and he had no idea if they were good swimmers or not. He didn’t know how to help them. He didn’t have a rope, which could have helped tie them together, but that might not have been a good idea, either.

  Mack was swimming hard, but sounds of the ponies behind him were fainter now. Ben’s heart dropped. He risked turning his head, but could only see two of the ponies still swimming, but fighting hard to do so. He didn’t dare turn his body enough to see if he could find the third pony. The thought of losing one of these children sent chills through his body that had nothing to do with the icy water.