Sycamore Promises

by Paul Colt

  Clare cut her eyes to Micah.

  “Do as he says, Clare.”

  She lifted the gun and dropped it as instructed.

  “She sure is purty,” the skinny one said.

  “Shut up,” the bearded man said. “Now climb down from the wagon. Both of you on the driver’s side.”

  Micah set the brake. He climbed down, willing his knees to support him. He turned his back on the two men and reached up to help Clare, fighting to remain calm. He brought her to the ground shielded from the gunman by his body. Over her shoulder, he could see riders coming down the road toward them. He squeezed her arms in his hands, hoping she got the message to stay there. He turned back to the gunmen.

  “Company’s coming.” He tossed his head up the road. “I should think they’ll wonder why you’re holding that gun on us.”

  The bearded man looked up the road. “Tell ’em you had a breakdown. We come by to help like good Samaritans. You’ve no need to delay them. Remember the gun may be out of sight, but there’s nothin’ in this coat gonna stop a bullet.”

  As the riders approached, Micah recognized Salmon Brown, Brother Brown’s eldest son. The two men with him were younger brothers Frederick and Owen. Clare recognized them, too. She caught his eye. He directed his gaze under the wagon with unspoken instruction. She nodded.

  Salmon drew rein. “Brother Mason, is that you?”

  “It is, Salmon.” He made a finger pistol hidden from the bandits’ view. “We had a bit of a breakdown. These two gentlemen stopped to help.”

  Salmon cut his eyes to the two mounted men fronting the team. “Anything my brothers and I can do to help an old neighbor?”

  “Things is patched up now,” the burly man said. “No need to trouble yourself.”

  “How about I have a look,” Salmon said. “You know how good I am with wagons, Micah.” He stepped down and rounded the front of his horse with a shotgun leveled at the burly man. “Now, lemme see your hands.”

  The man lifted the gun from his coat.

  “Drop it. Now!”

  The gun hit the ground.

  “We can do this one of two ways. You two can get gone and never let me see either of your ugly faces again; or, in about ten seconds, I’m gonna air out this eight-gauge at your considerable expense.”

  They wheeled their horses and galloped up the road.

  Micah let out a breath he’d forgotten. “Brother Brown, the angel Gabriel himself couldn’t have looked no better than you boys did just now. We’re mighty grateful.”

  “Honest folk shouldn’t have to put up with the likes of them. You do travel armed don’t you, Micah?”

  “I do. He got the drop on me.”

  “When it comes to strangers on the road, it pays to get the drop on them first until you figure the difference between friend and foe.”

  “Sound advice. I shall remember it.”

  Clare walked around the wagon and retrieved Micah’s gun.

  “We heard you was moving west before we left Hudson,” Salmon said. “Where you headed?”

  “Kansas.”

  “So are we. Pa says it’ll be the next front in the struggle against slavery. He sent us to prepare his way to the coming conflict. Tell you what. We’ll ride along with you folks today and camp the night just to be sure them two don’t come back to give it another try.”

  “We’d be much obliged for that,” Clare said. “I’d be pleased to fix you boys a home cooked meal away from home.”

  That evening they sat about their campfire with the Brown boys enjoying cooking better than their own. The fire licked at the darkness, holding a shower of stars at bay to the tune of crickets and frogs singing their night songs.

  “Where in Kansas you fixin’ to settle?” Salmon asked.

  Micah shrugged. “We’re thinking of farming wheat. That’s about all the plan we have. We’ll figure it out when we get there. How about you boys?”

  “Father has friends in the New England abolition movement. They’re assisting right-minded folks to settle the Lawrence area. Father figures them for the bulwark of resistance. We’ll prepare a place close enough by to be of some help when the need arises.”

  “Do you think it will come to violence?” Clare said.

  All three boys met her eyes across the firelight. “Father believes it inevitable,” Salmon said.

  “Oh, dear. That sounds so dire.”

  “It is, I’m afraid. Nothing more to be done than face it.”

  “With the good Lord’s blessing, cool heads may yet prevail,” Micah said.

  “One can hope, though I’d do my hopin’ with my arms close by.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  Morgan Walker Farm

  Jackson County, Missouri

  July, 1854

  Bright morning sun filtered through lace curtains softened to a mellow glow. Miriam fitted fresh sheets on the massa’s great four-poster bed with its soft feather mattress and gauzy drape to keep the skeeters away. She could scarcely imagine sleeping in such elegant comfort, but the massas did, every night.

  She felt his presence at the door. She’d developed a sense for it since moving up to the house. She turned her thoughts to Caleb, wishing he were here. She ignored the presence and continued with her chores. Watching did no harm other than annoy her. The sound of the door closing caught in her throat. She glanced over her shoulder.

  He stood there watching. She reckoned him about sixteen. Big for his age, dough-like from soft living with dull, colorless eyes, fleshy cheeks, and slicked-back, brown hair.

  “Was you needin’ somethin’, Massa Andrew?”

  “I believe you know what I need, Miriam.”

  He took a step toward her. She stepped back.

  “Don’t be shy, girl. If you’re nice to me, it’ll be real nice for both of us.”

  “Does your daddy know where you are, Massa Andrew?”

  He smiled mirthlessly. “You can start by seeing to those buttons on your dress.”

  He took another step. She backed into the edge of the bed.

  “My buttons is just fine. I’m a married woman, you know.”

  He laughed and took another step. “That just makes you breeding stock. I ain’t interested in breeding. All I want is a little sportin’ fun. Now get them clothes off and let the fun begin.”

  He had her trapped. She couldn’t figure but one way out. She smiled.

  “Well, if it’s just for fun.” She undid a few buttons at her throat.

  He was close now. So close she could smell him. He stared at her, eyes fixed on her fingers.

  “You is fallin’ behind. We can’t have no fun with you all dressed up like that. Here, let me help.” She knelt, looking up. She unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his britches. His eyes glazed.

  “Now you’re fallin’ behind. Let’s see some more.”

  She undid a couple more buttons, watching his excitement grow.

  “Hurry up, girl.”

  “Yes, Massa.” She pulled his britches down with her best fetching smile and bolted from the room.

  After lunch, Missa Morgan Walker retired to her afternoon nap. Miriam slipped out of the house carrying a berry basket and started for the patch between the fields. No sooner was she out of sight then she hiked up her skirts and ran. The sun was hot, the air thick as wet toweling. Sweat poured down her face, gathering in a rivulet that trickled between her breasts. Her dress darkened with the effort. She didn’t care. She had to see him.

  The Good Lord His-self must a’ run with her. She found Caleb working a field not far from the Morgan Walker property. She hid in the trees until she spotted Redding, the overseer on the opposite side of the field. She straightened herself and walked calmly out of the trees, crossing the field like she belonged there.

  Caleb blinked. He couldn’t believe his eyes. What was she doing here? She run away in broad daylight? Something must be wrong. He glanced around. Redding had his back to them, busy with some other chore
at the far side of the field. Caleb turned back to meet her.

  “Get down between the rows, girl.”

  She did as she was told, frightened, dark eyes looking up to him from between the rows of corn. He continued tasseling.

  “What bring you here?”

  “I had to see you.”

  “What’s so all fired necessary you run away in broad daylight?”

  “He tried more than watchin’.”

  “The Walker boy?”

  She nodded. Caleb took in the news, his slow to boil anger growing hot.

  “He hurt you?”

  “No. I got him in a bad way and got away.”

  “You got him in a bad way? You didn’t go get you-self in real trouble, did you?”

  She giggled.

  “What’s funny? This ain’t no time for jokes.”

  “You get a man’s pants down, he don’t run so good.”

  Caleb got the picture. It must have been kind a’ funny.

  “Caleb, it’s only a matter of time before he come after me again. There ain’t but so many ways to stay away from him in that house.”

  “Maybe you should tell your missa. She likely wouldn’t cotton to that boy be-devilin’ you.”

  “That might help some. Then again, it’d surely make Massa Andrew angry. He might decide I’d be fit for worse than fun. We gotta run. No two ways about it, and the sooner the better.”

  “I been thinkin’ on that some.”

  “Praise the Lord.”

  “The harvest fandango be the time. Folks stay up late, drink too much. We might be in Kansas before they know we is gone.”

  “Harvest is two months away.”

  “Best I can come up with.”

  “But what if he . . . ”

  “It ain’t just runnin’ away, Miriam. It’s gettin’ away without gettin’ caught. Now you have a talk with your missa. Hopefully that’ll slow the boy down until harvest. Now you best get yourself back before them Walker folks figure out you is gone.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  * * *

  Kansas City

  August, 1854

  A ragged settlement emerged out of the haze sloping down to a river. Micah drew the team to a halt.

  “There she is, Clare.” He wrapped an arm around her. “That’s Kansas City. Kansas is just across the river.”

  “You mean Kansas City isn’t in Kansas?”

  “No, dear, it’s still in Missouri, but it’s our gateway to Kansas. We’ll stop there for a few days to replenish our supplies and gain whatever news we might learn of settlement on the Kansas side.”

  “Tell me we don’t have to float this wagon across that river.”

  He smiled. “Not this time. There’s a ferry that’ll take us across when we’re ready.” He clucked to the team.

  Kansas City sprawled along the east bank of the Missouri River, a sizable town of some twenty-five hundred. The commercial center radiated out from the ferry dock, freight docks, and riverfront warehouses. By late afternoon the day’s commercial activity tapered off to a sleepy river town thinking about supper and a little relaxation. Micah drew up at a blacksmith shop and livery on the east end of town. He found the smithy at his forge. A bear of a man wearing a sweat-soaked shirt and heavy, leather apron smiled through a thick, rusty beard.

  “Afternoon, stranger. What can I do for you?”

  “I got a couple of mules I’d like to put up for a day or two, if you don’t mind my wife and me parking our wagon in your yard.”

  He wiped his hands on his apron. “Two bits a head. No charge for the dirt under your wagon. It ain’t doin’ nothin’ I know of just now.” He punctuated this last with a toothy grin.

  Micah handed the man a dollar.

  “You folks headed west?”

  “We are. Bound for Kansas.”

  “You’re pretty near there then.”

  “Kansas covers a lot of territory. We need to better figure where to settle.”

  “What do you plan on doin’?”

  “Cash crop farm soon as we can get a crop to market.”

  “You’re thinkin’ railroad then.”

  Micah nodded.

  “That might take a while. ’Course that muddy river yonder takes crops to market every day. Some fella’s building a flour mill down near the docks. That’ll create markets for wheat and cornmeal.”

  “Markets far and wide open once the railroad comes.”

  “That’d be the way I see it. Charles Goodwin’s the name.” He stuck out a calloused hand.

  “Micah Mason.”

  “Where you hale from, Micah?”

  “Hudson, Ohio.”

  “You come a long way.”

  “We have.”

  “If you need any work done on that wagon while you’re here, I’d be happy to look at it for you.”

  “Much obliged. I’ll let you know if we need anything. Maybe you’d favor me with some advice on what lies across the river.”

  “I’m happy to pass along what I know.”

  “That’d be a good sight more than I know. My wife and I will be fixin’ some supper directly if you’d care to join us.”

  Goodwin brightened. “You’re talkin’ to a man who can’t muster much more’n biscuits and beans on his own account. What time should I come by?”

  They had a simple supper of biscuits, fatback, vegetable stew, and coffee. Sitting around the table finishing their coffee, haloed in lamplight, the day’s heat lifted as crickets serenaded the stable yard. Up the road in the direction of town a piano tinkled faintly from some distant saloon.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a pie to offer you, Mr. Goodwin. I don’t have much time for baking when we’re on the road.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mason. You’ve been more than kind sharing this wonderful meal with me.”

  “It was nothing special.”

  “It was if you had a steady diet of my cooking. I’ll be sorry to see you folks move on.”

  “Do you have any suggestions on where we might look when we cross into Kansas?” Micah said.

  “You’ll find good land for farming most places. If you stick close to a river, you’ll be able to get a cash crop to market that way until the railroad comes.” He paused and stroked his beard. “There’s one more thing you might want to consider.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You might want to consider your position on slavery. I don’t hold with it much myself, but most folks here in Missouri do. Kansas is divided on the subject. They’ll likely vote on it next year. No tellin’ how it might come out, but there’s strong sentiments on both sides.”

  “We don’t hold with it, either, but how would that affect where we settle?”

  “If I was you, then, I’d favor the Lawrence area, about forty miles west of here. Folks settlin’ there is comin’ from the north and east. They’re mostly opposed to the idea. I’d feel best bein’ among like-minded folks. Everyone hopes the matter can be settled peaceably, but I reckon for most folks, peaceably means settled their way. Like I said, feelin’s run strong on both sides.”

  “That strikes me as sound advice, Charles. We understand the threat of violence. Brother John Brown of Hudson, Ohio, is a strong abolitionist. He believes Kansas and Nebraska will be the next battleground over slavery in the expansion west. He’s already sent three of his sons out to Kansas. We met them on the road on our way here. I’m sure they’re there by now. They expect Brother Brown himself to join them.”

  “I’m not familiar with your Brother Brown; but men of his persuasion, you’ll likely find in Lawrence.”

  “His sons said as much. I thank you for the advice, though. We’ll start looking for somewhere to settle around there.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  Lawrence, Kansas

  August, 1854

  Micah and Clare drove south along Massachusetts Street to Seventh Street. The town sprawled south and west between the Kansas River to the northeast and Mount
Oread on the west. Micah drew the team to a halt in front of the three-story Eldridge House Hotel. The red brick structure looked more like a fortress than a hotel, with its third floor ringed in gun ports. The imposing façade dominated the center of town. After more than two months on the road west, Micah deemed it time for a rest. He set the brake, climbed down, and anchored the team. He held out a hand to Clare.

  “Why are we stopping here?”

  “We’re getting a room for the night.”

  She took his hand. “Can we afford it?”

  “Not really, but it’s been two months of rough living. We’ll start looking for land tomorrow. Tonight, we are going to have a civilized meal and a proper night’s rest.” He gave her his arm and led her up the boardwalk steps to the hotel lobby. The registration clerk welcomed them with a smile.

  “Afternoon, folks. Welcome to Eldridge House. How may we be of assistance?”

  “We need a room for the night,” Micah said.

  The clerk spun the register.

  Micah took the pen from its inkpot and signed. “We’ll need a place to park our wagon.”

  “Stable yard is around back. The stable boy will keep an eye on it for you. That’ll be a dollar for the room and fifty cents for the stock.”

  Micah slid two dollars across the counter.

  “How far west you headed?”

  “We plan to look at farmland in the area.”

  “Well then, welcome to Lawrence. Where you folks from?”

  “Hudson, Ohio.”

  “We had some guests from Hudson not so long ago. I believe they’re still somewhere here abouts.”

  “Salmon Brown and his brothers?”

  “Why, yes, they’re the ones. Abolitionists they said, come here to secure the vote. If you’re of the abolitionist mind, you’ll find Lawrence a more agreeable place than a more southerly community such as Frederick, if you get my drift.”

  “I believe I do.”

  The clerk slid a key across the counter. “Room two-o-six.”

  Micah handed the key to Clare. “I’ll put up the team and bring in some things.”