Mike heard the rolling noise of a wagon in the distance.
“Come on,” Mike shouted, running up the lane toward the sounds of the wagon.
About a hundred yards later.
“Stop, Mike, we’ll never catch them this way,” Ray said, exhausted.
“If he hurts her...” Mike’s eyes filled with tears.
“I know. We’ll find another way,” Ray said.
Mike and Ray walked back only to find that their two wagons had been put out of service by the bushwhackers, who had broken the spokes of the wheels. They had also unhitched the horses and chased them away.
“What do we do, now?” Ray asked.
“We’ll never get there in time now.” Mike was frustrated. Not only did he have to stop the steam gun, but now he had to save Sarah and Jenny. He began walking back up the road. Sweat formed on his forehead. Ray followed close behind.
“Poor Preacher. His first trip and he ends up drowned in quicksand,” Ray said. “Do you think Braymer had any knowledge of this?”
“Don’t know,” Mike said. Then he stopped.
“Ray, what town did they say the women would make good prostitutes in?”
“They didn’t say.”
“No they didn’t...”
“Something about gangsters?” Ray said.
“Yeah, let me think. They said Mob Town.”
“Yes, that’s it—why does that matter?” Ray asked.
“There’s only one town that I’ve read about called, Mob Town.”
“What’s that?”
“Baltimore. And that’s where the Winan’s workshop is.” Mike figured. “We now have a new destination, Baltimore.”
They started up the dirt road, headed north. The bushwhackers had a huge head start and Mike was worried that he would be too late to save Sarah and Jenny.
“We’ve got to run, Ray. There’s no other way.”
“We can’t run all the way to Baltimore.”
“Then walk faster, God damn it. We’ve got to save them.” Mike’s voice quivered and his eyes were tearing up.
Ray thought Mike might be having a nervous breakdown. “It’ll be okay, Mike. We’ll save them.”
Mike understood what Ray was trying to do and came out of his melancholy. “Sorry, Ray. I’m glad you’re here. Those bastards did make one mistake, though.”
“What’s that?”
“They didn’t kill me.”
As they turned a bend in the road, they suddenly heard a noise. It was Confederate cavalry riding toward them. There was no time to run and no place to hide. The cavalry was on top of them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thursday, June 18, 1863
A squad of twelve riders halted in front of Mike and Ray. Each man seemed to dress according to his own taste. The captain, a suave cavalier, sat tall in his saddle. He stroked his goatee and looked over the two men standing before him.
“You lost?” the captain asked.
“Not lost,” Mike said. “Stolen from.”
The captain smiled and nudged his slouch hat back from his brow. “Bring up those horses.”
After a few moments, two troopers brought four Morgan horses to the front. Mike’s jaw dropped.
“Are these your horses? I noticed the wagons back yonder were destroyed,” the captain said.
“Why, yes. Yes they are.” Mike grinned, pleased to see the horses.
The captain’s hooded brown eyes scanned the two able-bodied young men. “Why ain’t you two boys in uniform? You look to be fit.”
“Ray’s leg got broken by a Minié ball and left him a cripple. I’m the only family he’s got to take care of him.”
“So you two were in the army?” the captain asked.
“Yes we were. Got released after he got shot.”
“Well, you look healed to me. Where were you headed?” the captain asked Mike as he leaned back in the saddle.
“We were taking a load of lumber to market. That was before bushwhackers robbed us. Now we’re headed home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Virginia,” Mike lied.
The captain pondered that statement for a moment.
“Seems mighty far. Were you going to walk the whole way?”
“We got no choice,” Mike said.
The captain’s expression soured a bit, still looking at two able-bodied men who admitted they were going to walk all the way to Virginia.
“You heard the Conscription Act passed into law last year, right?”
“The Conscription Act?” Ray asked.
“It states that all healthy white males between the ages of 18 and 35 are liable for a three-year term of service to the Confederacy.”
“But we already served,” Ray said.
“You have papers to that effect? If’n you don’t. I can consider you deserters.”
“Shit,” Mike knew he was screwed when he saw the anger in the captain’s eyes.
“No, we don’t.”
“Just by lookin’ at ya, and given’ your situation, you may as well come with us.”
“Whoa—wait a minute. I told you we need to get to Virginia,” Mike argued.
“We’re headed for Virginia,” the captain said.
“Where in Virginia?” Mike asked.
The captain tipped his hat and pushed out his stirrups, stretching. “We’re headed for, Noneya. You know, none-your business. I don’t know you from Adam.”
Mike knew the captain had his mind made up. Arguing with him would only make matters worse.
“We’ll be okay, Ray. Let’s do what the man asked.”
“Yeah, consider coming with us to be your contribution to the cause,” the captain said.
Since they were headed in the same direction, Mike had no problem. But he wanted to find time to explain that to Ray.
“At your service, Captain,” Mike said.
Ray’s knees buckled at Mike’s words, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Sergeant, add these two to your roster.”
The sergeant, a big husky man with straggly black hair and a scraggly beard, dismounted and walked over to Mike and Ray. He pulled his book from his inside coat pocket. Withdrew a pencil from the book and simply waited. Finally he said, “Well?”
“Well what?” Ray asked.
“Your names, half-wits?”
“I’m Mike Hill, and this here is Ray Hensley.”
“Age?”
“I’m 28 and he’s 26,” Mike said.
“What’s your home address?”
“1500 Hillside Avenue, Richmond, Virginia.”
The sergeant hardened his stare. “Mebbe so, but ya sound like dang Yankees to me.”
“We better be get’in Sergeant,” the captain said.
The sergeant put his pencil back and closed his book. “Enough for now, I’ll get the rest tonight when we make camp.”
The sergeant mounted his horse and went to the captain. “They’re added to our rolls, sir.”
“Good. Keep your eyes on them. For all we know they’re spies.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mike glanced over at Ray hearing the word spies.
“Let’s move out,” the captain ordered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thursday, June 18, 1863
Jenny helped the younger man carry Sarah to the wagon, where George and his family were already sitting. Jenny climbed into the gray box and lay Sarah’s head in her lap. Sarah was still unconscious.
“How she doing?” George asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. We need to keep her warm, she may have a concussion.”
“You know missy, if they take us back, we’ll be killed for sure,” George said.
“We won’t let that happen,” Jenny said, trying to calm him down while taking care of Sarah. The driver’s whip was heard, and the wagon jerked everyone as it moved out.
Jenny was seated on the wooden floor with Sarah’s head in her lap. Crammed on the wooden bench
were George, Anita, and Valerie.
The grimy younger man sat next to the older man on the front seat of the wagon. The older man hurried the horses onward with the crack of the whip. The two were bounty hunters turned slave hunters. Using the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, as their lawful right to capture escaped slaves, they roamed the smuggling routes that also doubled as the Underground Railroad for slaves seeking freedom. The bounty hunters searched and located stations, such as safe houses, barns, and churches; and when found, the runaway slaves were extracted and they were supposed to be returned to their proper owners.
These two had come across a poster with the names of three runaway slaves on it; George - husband, Anita – his wife, and Valerie - his daughter. They made a deal with Otis to purchase them and take them to Port Tobacco, Virginia for resale. They did not give a rat’s ass to take the time to get an affidavit, let alone wait for a judge to sign it.
“Barnard, why you let that little blonde girl punch you in the face,” the older man asked.
“Not my fault, Russell. She sucker punched me.”
“I like that little blonde girl. She got spunk,” Russell said.
“Good, cause I got dibs on the brunette. You said they’d make good whores. How much money we talking?”
“When we get to Port Tobacco, we’ll sell the women as sex slaves to the Orient. The Chinese pay good money for white women.”
“How much is good money?” Barnard asked.
“More’n you can count.”
The two salivated over the fortune they would make.
On Friday, June 19, the bounty hunters pulled into Greensboro, North Carolina. Sarah awoke in Jenny’s arms. George was asleep, leaning on Anita. Valerie slept against the front wall.
Sarah looked around, confused. “Where are we?”
“We’ve been kidnapped by slave hunters,” Jenny said.
Sarah tried to rise. “Ouch!”
“Stay still. You have a nasty bump on your head from that asshole up there hitting you with the butt of his rifle.”
Sarah sat up. “We need to get out of here.”
“No kidding,” Jenny said.
“I mean, maybe I could use my power to get us out of here.”
“Oh well, then—by all means continue.”
Sarah went into a trance, trying to conjure a spell. Her eyes rolled back in her head until only the whites of her eyes were visible.
“Oh, lord, what’s she doing?” George asked, scared.
“Nothing to worry about,” Jenny said. “She thinks she’s a witch.”
“Please make her stop that. She’s scaring my little girl,” George pleaded.
“Give her a minute. The crazy lady will realize nothing is happening.”
“Please we don’t want anything to do with the devil. Make her stop,” George begged.
Sarah stopped. “Can’t do it. My power is too weak.”
“Go figure,” Jenny said.
“You’re not helping. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”
Sarah knocked on the front wall by a small window to the driver seat. “Hey, we need to stop.”
Russell lifted his hat and scratched at his graying hair and kept driving.
“Hey up front. We need to stop,” Sarah yelled.
“Could you please give it a rest, lady?” Russell told her.
Sarah banged even harder. “Let us out!”
Russell pulled the wagon over.
“What are you doing Russell?” asked the younger man.
“Let ‘em them stretch their legs. Wouldn’t hurt us to get down, neither,”
“You old weasel.”
They both got down and walked to the back. Russell unlocked and opened the door.
“Go tend to yourselves. Don’t try to escape. We’ll shoot you dead if’n you try. Barnard, you watch them.” He gestured toward Sarah and Jenny. I’ll watch these ones.”
Barnard, the younger man, stood by with his rifle as the women went behind some brush. George went behind a tree to relieve himself.
“By the way, Russell. I prefer if you call me Bernie.”
“Okay, Barnard.”
The younger man became frustrated and discouraged. “Come on. Let’s go,” he snapped at the women.
“Give us a minute,” Sarah said.
“I give you something alright,” Barnard said.
He pushed Sarah to the ground and got on top of her. He was pulling off his suspenders and in the process of pulling down his pants.
“Help!” Jenny screamed in horror.
Russell pulled young Barnard off Sarah. “Fix yourself,” he told Sarah and dragged Barnard to the wagon.
“These are not your toys. These are valuable merchandize. The Chinese pay a lot more for virgins.”
“How you know they’re virgins?” Barnard said.
“I don’t but, there’s no need for that,” Russell said.
“Just trying to have a little fun, is all,” Barnard said.
Jenny went to Sarah, who was visibly shaken by this event. With tears in her eyes, Sarah turned to Jenny. “We need to know where we are. So when we stop again, we’ll know where to run.”
Russell turned to the women. “Come on. We ain’t got all day.”
Sarah and Jenny walked out from behind the bush as Sarah brushed her dress off. Anita and Valerie came from around another. George was waiting by the wagon.
Jenny walked Sarah back to the wagon and stopped by Russell. “Have something to eat? We’re starving back here.”
Feeling somewhat bad about the incident, Russell said, “Get ‘em some bread, Barnard.”
The younger man went and got a loaf and handed it to Sarah. They all got back in the wagon and Russell locked the door. The two climbed aboard and Russell took the reins, slapped the horses and hollered, “Let’s go.”
The wagon jerked, and away they went. Sarah broke the bread and handed a piece to each. While eating, she looked out the window, studying the countryside. “Jenny check out that window. See if you see anything that can tell where we are.”
Jenny got to her knees, and peered out the high little barred window. George got up and looked out the back door’s window, joining them in the search to identify where they were.
“I can’t tell anything,” Jenny said and sat back down.
“I only sees where we was,” George said.
“Yeah, this is getting us nowhere,” Sarah concluded and sat back down. They would have to wait for a better chance. Since the weather was dry, the roads were too, and they made good time, stopping only when necessary.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Thursday, June 18, 1863
The sergeant turned to Mike and Ray.
“Welcome to Mosby’s Rangers. You’ll have to ride bareback until we get ya’ll saddles.”
“I can’t believe it,” Mike said.
“Believe what?” Ray asked.
“We just signed up with the Gray Ghost,” Mike said with a gleam in his eyes.
“Colonel Mosby to you.” The sergeant smiled and walked away.
Ray leaned to Mike. “I don’t know how to ride.”
“Give me your foot. I’ll help you up.”
“But there’s no saddle,” Ray said.
“There’s no choice. You got to keep your balance from sliding off sideways.”
“I never done this before,” Ray said.
“It’s not that hard, Ray.”
“It is if you haven’t done it before.”
“Give me your foot.”
Ray put his foot in Mike’s hands and laid his arms on the horse’s back. Mike boosted him up on the horse. Ray landed on the animal’s back.
“Now all you have to do is stay there,” Mike said, and went to his horse.
The cavalry rode northeast, toward Charlotte.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” Ray said to Mike.
“What is it?”
“Where did you come up with that address?”
Mike laughed. “I gave him my address in Atlanta.”
“I’ll be damned. So where did this, ‘we’re at your service, Captain,’ crap come from?”
“I’m good with going along with them for now, ‘cause we’re going in the same direction and now we have horses,” Mike said. “First chance we get, when they’re all asleep, we’ll make our escape.”
“Sure, Mike. Whatever,” Ray caught his balance on the horse.
Mike saw that Ray was still having trouble staying upright on the horse.
“How you doing, Ray?”
“Good, as long as we’re only walking.”
“See that, Ray it’s not hard when you get the hang of it.” Mike said. He wondered if Sarah had anything to do with this unexpected good fortune. Hooking up with the Gray Ghost, getting their horses back, and headed for Virginia. Nah, too farfetched, Mike thought.
That afternoon, Mike’s attention was drawn to a rider who came from the north and pulled up his horse at the head of the column. The captain halted the squad.
The rider saluted. “Captain Trigg?”
“You have news?” Captain Trigg asked.
“Yes, sir,” The courier handed him a note.
Captain Trigg read the note and slipped it into his pocket.
“Supply train moving down the valley. Colonel wants to bring the full force up in a hurry. We’ll move out on the double quick,” Trigg said.
The courier saluted and rode back from where he had come.
“By the double quick, forward.”
The squad began to trot up the road. Mike took off with Ray right beside him. Ray bounced and slid. He tried to hold his balance until he finally fell off. Mike stopped. A corporal reined up his horse and stopped to help.
“You really don’t know how to ride,” the corporal said.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ray said, as he rubbed his bad leg.
Mike tried to help Ray back up, but Ray refused.
“I’d rather walk. Thank you,” Ray said.
“Here, take my horse for now,” the corporal told him.
“But that’s your horse,” Mike said.
“I’ll get him back. When we get saddles, we’ll trade back.”
Ray was glad the corporal was nice enough to give up his horse. “Thanks.”
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