Along the Trail to Freedom
John Duncklee
Smashwords Edition
Along the Trail to Freedom
Presented by Western Trail Blazer
Digital ISBN: 9781476352626
Copyright © 2012 John Duncklee
Art Cover Copyright © 2012 Laura Shinn
Editing by Joshua Shinn
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
Licensing Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Along the Trail to Freedom is a work of historical fiction. Many of the important historical events, figures, and locations are as accurately portrayed as possible. In keeping with a work of fiction, various events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author and are interwoven with the historical facts.
To Penny – For our years of happiness with not a single bad day.
Escaping the Civil War and slavery, three young men go West in search of freedom. Arriving in Independence, Missouri, they meet a teamster who hires them for his wagon train to Santa Fe, New Mexico. The teamster admires and becomes friend with the three. In Santa Fe they decide to keep heading westward to Tucson. Once there, they go their separate ways but eventually experience warm reunions.
This is a story of adventure as the fascinating characters search for freedom in their separate, yet together, ways. Many of the characters they encounter are true historical people and the landscape descriptions throughout are authentic, especially the Altar Valley of Sonora where the author once leased a ranch and bought and sold cattle. The same is true about other locations in southern Arizona where the author lived most of his life.
Chapter One
Homer Crane's eyes caught the low flicker of a campfire off to the right of the trail he had been following in the half moon's light. He turned and stopped; squinting to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. Lowering his head six inches he crouched as he made sure that it was a campfire he had seen and not some last-of-the-season fireflies on a late fall flight through the night.
Looking at the ground cover, Homer stepped cautiously toward the fire until he saw the young man about seventeen, the same age as himself, sitting cross-legged watching the flames lick the leg of venison that he had placed on two forked sticks to roast. Homer recognized the light gray uniform even though it was tattered. There were no shoulder insignia telling the world that the man who wore it was a commissioned officer in the Confederate Army. Homer wondered why the man wore an officer's felt hat.
Carefully Homer moved forward, enjoying the aroma of the roasting meat as the gentle breeze carried the smoke his way. The smell made his stomach ache and forced him to remember how hungry he was after four days of nothing to eat except some dried beef. The dried beef had lasted only two of the days he had been fleeing from the Union Army after the Battle of Antietam. His canteen had just a swallow of water left. Traveling at night through forests over narrow trails had not given Homer much opportunity to refurbish his food and water supply.
His right foot snapped a twig. The sitting soldier started, looked up away from the fire and toward the sound. Homer raised his rifle and stepped quickly to the edge of the clearing.
"All right, Johnny Reb, raise your hands high and don't reach for your rifle," Homer said, trying to make himself sound tough.
Remaining seated, the Confederate soldier raised his hands above his head. Homer moved into the clearing watching every move his captive made. "Are you an officer?" Homer asked.
"No, I'm just a private. I took this hat off'n a dead lieutenant back at Sharpsburg when I got out of there."
"I'm a private, too. I really don't want to be a soldier and I suppose they knew it."
"I feel the same way. I began to wonder why we are fighting each other, North and South. We are all Americans."
"Did you desert?" Homer asked.
"I sure did. I never saw so many dead men in one place since this war began," he said.
"I was there, too. I took off the night after the battle. I wonder if we shot at each other," Homer said.
"I know damn well I didn't shoot at you 'cause I never pulled the trigger on my rifle. I was too damn scared."
"Well, I probably didn't shoot at you either 'cause I just closed my eyes and fired at the sky. I know what you mean about being scared. I think I am still shaking once in a while. By the way, what's your name?"
"Billy Peabody, from down Charlotte way. What's yours?"
"I'm Homer Crane. I'm from New York in the Catskills."
"I would be honored to shake your hand in friendship if you would lower that rifle," Billy said.
Homer lowered his rifle. Billy stood up and stepped over to where Homer stood and they shook hands. "The venison's about roasted," Billy said. "Are you hungry?"
"I was hoping you would ask that," Homer said. "I haven't eaten in two days. Too afraid of getting caught hunting or stealing."
"I got lucky this afternoon as I was waiting for nightfall. There's a brook about a hundred yards over there," he said pointing over his shoulder. "This yearlin' was takin' a drink so I got a shot at him."
"Since nobody came after you, I assume nobody heard the shot," Homer said.
"Never know. At least nobody came lookin' to see who was doin' the shootin'," Billy said.
"Where are you heading?" Homer asked.
"I figure to go out West," Billy said. "I can't go back to Charlotte seein' how I deserted the army, so I'll see what's goin' on out West if I can make it without gettin' caught."
"I was thinking the same thing. My folks farmed and had livestock. I hear tell there's plenty of work tending cattle out West."
"I must admit that becomin' a cowboy crossed my mind even before I run off from the army," Billy said. "Grab your bayonet and slice off a chunk of that venison before I eat the whole leg," Billy said. "I haven't eaten in three days."
The two former enemies sliced off strips of roasted meat and began eating ravenously without a word between them. When their hunger got satisfied Billy reached into his small haversack and withdrew a pint bottle that lacked a label. "I took this off that lieutenant when I got his hat," Billy said. "I took a taste a couple days ago and it's pretty strong. Have a swig and see if you like it."
Homer took the bottle and lifted it to his mouth. Gingerly he tipped it up and sipped at the dark brown liquid. "That is strong. It tastes like rum." He took a swallow and handed the bottle back to Billy, who also took a swallow.
"I wasn't sure what it was because I never had a strong drink before except corn liquor."
"What's that?" Homer asked.
"Homemade whiskey made from corn. There's lots of it around Charlotte," Billy explained.
"My folks made dandelion wine every year, but I tasted it once and couldn't stand to take another. They kept rum, and I took a nip or two once in a while. We were not rich and I wondered how they could afford to have rum around."
"We just had a small farm, too. We didn't even have slaves to help with the work," Billy said.
"I met a couple of runaway slaves once," Homer said. "My folks took them in and fed them. They seemed right nice but they were as afraid of getting caught as you and I are right now."
The two passed the bottle of rum to each other again, and Billy put another small branch on the campfir
e.
"Our neighbors had a big plantation, and kept slaves," Billy said. "I didn't think much about it. It was just something they did to get the work done. One day when I was eight-years-old one of the slave boys from the Paret Plantation slipped through the fence and approached me while I was a hoein' corn. His name was Elmer. I'll never forget his name because he and I became good friends for the next couple of years until I joined up with General Lee. He and I was both sad to part ways. We had a lot of good times fishin' and just talkin'. I wonder what Elmer's doin' right now. He ain't run away 'cause he was happy there at Paret's. They treated all their darkies well."
"The runaways who came to our place told about getting beaten for no reason and that they couldn't bear being owned by anyone but themselves," Homer said. "That's the first time I gave any thought to slavery. After the runaways left with full bellies and some extra clothes my mother told me all about how those poor devils lived in the South."
"Like I said," Billy continued about slavery. "Not all slaves get beat. Elmer liked the Paret family and they seemed to treat all their slaves like human beings. I heard a lot of people up north think slavery is bad.
"Some Captain told us that this war was about a lot of disagreement between the North and the South and one of the things was slavery. He said the North refused to understand that the South needs cheap labor on their plantations."
"I was talking with some of the fellows a few months ago when there was a lull in the fighting, and one sergeant made the statement that "All war is about making money," Homer said.
"I heard that, too," Billy said. "There was an old soldier who had only one leg who had joined up because he loved war, and could earn more money as a soldier than hobblin' around on one leg tryin' to find work. He said the same damn thing. I didn't understand what all he meant."
"My question is this: Why are we all trying to kill each other for dollars, Confederate or Federal?" Homer said.
"I think you might have somethin' there, Homer," Billy said, and passed the rum bottle back to him.
Homer took another short swallow and passed the bottle back to Billy. Leaning against a tall oak tree at the perimeter of the clearing, Homer looked at the dying fire and then up into the nearly dark sky above the clearing. "I can tell you one thing, Billy. I have never enjoyed myself as much as I am this evening."
"I was thinkin' that same thing, Homer. I never have talked this much about the war with anyone before."
"Me neither," Homer said.
They both heard the sound of twigs snapping just outside the fire circle. Both stood up, grabbed their rifles and pointed them toward the sound. "What was that?" Billy asked.
"I don't know, but I hope it isn't a hungry bear," Homer replied.
"I's not a bear, but I is hungry," a voice said from the forest. "Would you be kind enough to share some o' dat meat?"
"Come closer so we can see you," Homer said.
The voice belonged to a man close to the same height as the two soldiers. He stepped slowly out of the forest with his hands up and stopped so the two with pointed rifles could see that he was not armed. He was fully clothed but his shoes had seen better days; his big toes showed through two holes, one in each worn shoe. His elbows peeked out of the sleeves of his grey, homespun shirt and his trouser legs looked like they were close to showing his knees. He smiled at Homer and Billy. "I been listenin' to your talk and you two seem like good people. I's a runaway slave from down Louisiana way. My name's August, but I goes by Gus. I ain't had nothin' ta eat fo a long time."
"Come on in and sit while I cut you off some venison," Billy said. "I'm Billy and this is Homer."
Gus stepped into the circle and squatted down as Billy cut off a generous slice of meat from the leg. He handed the meat to Gus and returned to where Homer had sat back down next to the fire.
"How long have you been running away?" Homer asked.
Gus lowered the slice of meat reluctantly. "I 'spect two months." He took another bite and chewed it.
"Do you know where you are going?" Homer asked.
"Jus' north. I gots to get outa da South or they'll ketch me and I doan wanna think 'bout what the'd do to ol' Gus then."
"Homer and I are runaways, too," Billy said.
"I kinda figured dat from listenin' to your talk. Where you figure ta go?" Gus asked.
"If you was listening long enough you probably heard we are thinking about going West to be cowboys," Homer said.
"How you gonna get out dere without gittin' caught by your armies?"
"Just like you, Gus," Billy said. "We'll travel at night and hole up during the day."
"You best get rid o' dem uniforms or somebody gonna knows you is runaway soldiers," Gus said.
"You're right, Gus," Homer said. "I guess we haven't been running long enough to think all that out."
"How do we change clothes without getting' caught?" Billy asked.
"You might try clotheslines," Gus said. "But, ya gotta be careful nobody sees ya."
"I guess we better think on that a while and see what we run into," Homer said.
"We need to be careful since we're probably right on Mason's and Dixon's Line," Billy said.
"It would help a lot if we knew exactly where we are," Homer said.
"I knows where da sun comes up and I keep it to my right side," Gus said. "Dat's da way I knows I's headed north."
"Even when you get out of the southern slave states, you might get caught by a slave hunter," Homer said. "I heard tell about that Fugitive Slave Act the government passed so you can be in a free state, and not really be free."
"I heard 'bout dat, too," Gus said. "You white boys gots no idea what a slave's life is like. I wonda if I'll have to keep on da run fo da res of my days."
"Why not come with us and be a cowboy out West?" Homer asked.
"Mebbe you got sumpin' dere," Gus said. "Dat sound betta than running all da time, and I knows cattle good from chasin' dem critters outa da Lousiana swamps."
"You're welcome to join us," Billy said.
"We would be happy to have you along," Homer said. "Do you have a blanket?"
"I gots a bundle back a ways. When I seen yo fire I put my bundle in back of a tree."
"Billy, I think we need to roast the rest of that venison so it doesn't spoil as easily. We can split it three ways to carry it wrapped in the hide."
"I forgot all about the meat," Billy said. "I'll put more wood on the fire and have it roasted in no time."
Gus walked out into the forest and retrieved his bundle that contained some shoes and his two blankets. Billy and Homer put the rest of the venison over the fire to get it cooked so it wouldn't spoil.
"We can take turns keeping the fire going," Homer said. "I'll take the first spell so you two can get a little sleep. We should scout around tomorrow, and find a town where we can get a change of clothes and get out of these uniforms."
Homer kept the fire going until the moon rose higher in the sky and shone through the trees like a beacon. Billy took the next turn and by the time it came time for Gus, the meat was cooked. By the early morning light they cut the meat away from the bones. After carefully cutting the deer hide so that they could tie the bundles together to carry them, they wrapped the three portions for carrying. Before leaving their camp they enjoyed more venison.
After trudging carefully through the forest for several hours they saw a village beyond the trees. The three stood studying it for several minutes.
"I wonder if we are in Pennsylvania yet," Homer pondered.
"That's where they told us we were headed before you Yankees began shooting us down," Billy said.
"It's probably best that I go into the village and see if there is a store where we can trade your rifle for some clothes," Homer said. "If this is Pennsylvania I don't think the people here would appreciate your Confederate uniform," he said, looking at Billy. "I can always tell them I am going home to care for my sick mother."
"Gus and I will wait here am
ongst the trees," Billy said. "Take my rifle and tell them it will make a good souvenir of the war."
Homer took Billy's rifle in one hand and his in the other, along with his blanket roll, and started walking toward the village. When he was a hundred yards past the forest he stopped for a moment and looked back to see if his companions had hidden themselves well enough. The last thing he wanted to happen was to alarm the villagers, and spoil the plan the three had decided upon to acquire civilian clothes.
Encountering the main road through the village he stepped from the grassy meadow onto the well-used wagon road. Being careful to appear nonchalant as he walked along, he glanced from side to side of the thoroughfare looking for a general store that he hoped would sell clothes. He could see a sign in front of a building at the end of the village's main road. It was too far away to read, but as he walked closer he saw the words "General Merchandise" on the sign. Turning toward the building Homer gripped the two rifles tightly. Taking a deep breath, he hoped he would be successful in buying civilian clothes without revealing that he was a deserter from the Union Army. Mounting the three steps onto the porch in front of the store, he shifted Billy's rifle in his arms so that he could turn the large brass knob on the entry door.
Once inside he glanced quickly around to see if there were any people that might give him trouble. A woman stood behind a wooden counter looking at him intently. Homer stepped up to the counter, determined to accomplish what he had set out to do.
"Good afternoon," he said. "Is the proprietor here?"
"I am the proprietor while my husband is away with the army."
Homer wondered what rank her husband might be, if he had been at Antietam Creek, and if he had survived or been slaughtered with the rest of the dead Union soldiers.
"I am looking for some regular clothes to wear on my journey to New York where I am going to care for my invalid mother," Homer said.
Along the Trail to Freedom Page 1
