“Well, I’ll be doggoned. Not like them to be kidnapping white boys,” the sheriff said.
“Matt isn’t white—” Jack said.
“But he’s free,” Reverend Andrew interjected.
“Matt? I don’t remember a free black Negro named Matt registering at my office.”
Jack was surprised. “Register at your office? Why would he have to do that?”
“For his own sake. Free blacks are supposed to register so that the slave hunters won’t have a right to capture them. Everybody knows that.” The sheriff leaned forward on the front of the saddle. “Did he do that?”
“No,” Jack said. “We didn’t know he was supposed to. I mean, where we come from, you don’t—”
“That’s all that can be done, then,” the sheriff announced. He turned his attention to the crowd of men. “Now I’m going to ask you all nicely to go home and forget about this thing. I won’t have a pack of vigilantes riding across the countryside shooting or getting shot by the slave hunters. Now, you can go home or spend the night in jail. It’s up to you.”
In a tense moment, the sheriff stared down the reverend’s posse until, one by one, they yanked their reins and spun their horses toward Odyssey. Reverend Andrew stood alone with Jack.
“Well, Reverend?” the sheriff asked.
“Have it your way, Sheriff,” Andrew said in a cold tone.
The sheriff sighed heavily. “I don’t like this business, you know. I don’t like it at all.” He loudly clicked his tongue and spurred his horse away. With various grunts and “yahs!” his men followed, leaving a cloud of dust to coat Jack and the reverend.
“That’s it?” Jack asked with disbelief. “We’re just supposed to sit back and let the slave hunters take Matt?”
Reverend Andrew put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “This thing isn’t over yet,” he said with determination.
CHAPTER TEN
MATT AND EVELINE CRAWLED beneath a thick bush and watched the clearing where the slave hunters had set up their camp for the night. The hunters had tied their horses to the buckboard wagon’s wheels, gathered wood for a fire, and pulled out a tin pot to make what smelled to Matt like meat broth. It made his stomach ache for the food. That’s what he wanted more than anything, he thought: to be home for a hot meal and to sleep in his own bed.
The thick brown forest dirt under the tangled branches of the bush was moist and cold. Matt cradled his head in his arms and closed his eyes.
They’d followed the slave hunters for miles. How many miles, Matt didn’t know. It was all he could do just to keep up with Eveline, whose speed and energy seemed without limit. How did I get into this, he kept asking himself, and how do I get out of it? He clung to the hope that Jack was not far behind them with Reverend Andrew or, better yet, Mr. Whittaker. Matt was sorry he’d ever laid eyes on the Imagination Station.
“There’s my daddy.” Eveline whispered so softly that, again, Matt almost didn’t hear her. He lifted his head and looked. She pointed to an enormous oak tree in the shadows on the edge of the clearing. Clarence was tied tightly to it. He hung his head. Matt couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or just too exhausted to sit up straight.
The three slave hunters fixed their meal silently and seemed to be listening for anything in the woods that sounded unusual. Matt guessed that they were worried that someone from Odyssey might follow them. Little could they know they were right. But they were expecting men and horses, not two kids hiding under a bush.
“I don’t think anyone’s coming,” one of the slave hunters said.
For the first time Matt was able to take a hard look at the men. The one who just spoke was tall and wiry, with a bushy mustache perched under a hooked nose. Even in the firelight, Matt could see he had a dangerous-looking face, with deep lines going every which way like a road map. He had long, thinning, gray hair that sprayed out from under an old, weather-beaten cowboy hat. Eventually Matt picked up that he was named Hank.
“I didn’t believe they would. The sheriff would see to that,” said a man named Sonny. He was a round-faced, clean-shaven man in a bowler hat. He pulled a pipe from his waistcoat pocket—its buttons stretched to their limit by his bulk—and settled back against a rock.
The third man was the one Matt was sure he had seen in the basement at Whit’s End. He had squinty eyes as if someone had drawn two quarter moons above his cheeks. Thick eyebrows crowned them and splayed out like bird’s wings. His face was lean and looked even longer by the way his mouth pushed downward in a permanent frown. He was the boss, which was obvious only because it was what the other two men called him. He grabbed the coffeepot from the fire and poured himself a cup. “We need to take shifts to make sure nobody sneaks up on us tonight,” he said in a hoarse, scratchy voice.
Matt took in the scene and couldn’t imagine how to help Clarence. He thought he might be able to sneak around and untie his ropes. But then what? The three slave hunters would quickly catch them again. What are we going to do? he wondered.
“You wanna give the chattel some of this soup?” Hank asked.
Boss glanced over at Clarence, then shook his head. “Not sure I’m interested in wasting any good food on him after the trouble he’s caused us.”
“You call this good?” Sonny grimaced and threw his tin down playfully.
Hank sniffed indignantly. “You’re welcome to eat something else if you have a better offer.”
“Let’s just get to Huntsville and we’ll have all the offers we want,” Boss said with a chuckle.
“So long as our buck here gets us the reward money we want,” Sonny said.
“How ’bout that, Boss?” Hank asked.
Boss scrubbed his prickly chin and stood up. “Not gonna fetch as much as we expected without the daughter.” He walked over and kicked Clarence’s leg.
Clarence stirred and slowly lifted his head with a groan.
Boss kicked him again. “You’ve robbed us, boy. We were supposed to get you and your daughter and you helped her get away. You’re gonna have to pay us the difference—or I reckon you’ll have to be punished somehow.”
“You wanna punish him? Give him some of the soup,” Sonny said.
“You want some soup?” Boss asked Clarence. As if on cue, Hank walked over with a tin of the soup and knelt down next to the bound man. “You must be hungry after such a long trip.”
Hank held the tin of soup up to Clarence’s mouth. Clarence looked as if he didn’t want it.
“Go on. Take some,” Hank said.
Clarence turned his head away.
“Can’t you hear, boy? He said to take some soup.” Boss kicked Clarence harder.
Clarence shook his head. “No, thank you, sir. I’m not hungry.”
“What? That’s not the point. We want you to eat. We want you to be a big, strong buck for your master when we march you in. Now eat!”
Hank kicked at Clarence.
“Daddy!” Eveline gasped.
Every muscle in Matt’s body tensed as the two men taunted and kicked at Clarence. Sonny sat nearby and laughed at the scene. Matt knew they had to do something, but he couldn’t think what. Then he wondered, What if we could create a diversion? If he could get the slave hunters away from Clarence, Eveline could untie her father. He turned to Eveline to tell her the plan but didn’t get the chance. She scrambled out from under the bushes and raced into the clearing.
“Not again!” Matt groaned.
“Stop it! Stop doing that to my Daddy!” Eveline cried.
The two men, startled by the girl’s sudden appearance, swung around. Sonny dropped his pipe.
“No, child!” Clarence shouted as he strained at the ropes.
Hank let out a bark of a laugh. “Well, as I live and breathe! Look, Boss, it’s the girl.”
“I see her,” Boss replied. “What are you doing here, my little pickaninny? Come to help your daddy?”
Eveline stood frozen where she was, but her eyes moved quickly from man to man in case o
ne made a move for her.
“Eveline—” Clarence croaked.
“You want me to grab her?” Hank asked.
“Shut up,” Boss snapped. Then he smiled at Eveline. “You wanna help your daddy, Eveline? Then give me your hand. Come with us. It’ll help him more than anything else you can do.”
Matt realized that this was as much of a diversion as he could have planned himself. He crawled backward, keeping out of sight behind the bush, and then rushed around the edge of the clearing toward the tree to which Clarence was tied. He knew he had little time and ran as fast and as quietly as he could.
“Come on, Eveline,” he heard Boss say.
Through the limbs of the trees, he saw Eveline standing perfectly still by the firelight. Her eyes still darted like a rabbit’s who’d been surrounded by wolves. But they also betrayed that she had acted on impulse and didn’t know what to do next.
“Run, child,” Clarence shouted. “Don’t let ’em take you. Run! ”
Matt was now behind the tree and at the ropes holding Clarence. He peered around and saw Eveline shuffle anxiously. She was stricken by her indecision. Boss took a step toward her. “Come on, girl.”
In the darkness of the woods, Matt had a hard time seeing the ropes. He felt around for the knots and, with a sinking heart, realized they weren’t there. They must be on the other side, with Clarence.
“Don’t listen to him, Eveline,” Clarence commanded his daughter. “You run now, you hear? Don’t let him get any closer! Run!”
The words somehow got through, and with a last, despairing look, she tore away just as Boss dove for her. Gazellelike, she bounded into the dark woods.
“Get her!” Boss yelled. The three men disappeared into the darkness after her.
Matt’s mind reeled as he tried to think. How could he get Clarence untied? Peeking around to make sure everyone had gone, he circled the tree to Clarence.
“What are you doing here?” Clarence asked him, amazed. “Are you crazy?”
“We’re here to rescue you!” Matt announced.
“Rescue me! Oh, son, you are crazy.”
“How can I get you free?” Matt asked as he tugged at the ropes.
Clarence looked around frantically. “You’ll never get these knots undone. A knife. Look around the wagon for a knife.”
Matt ran to the wagon and searched through the bedrolls, saddlebags, and a crate filled with ropes, tools, and tarp. No knife. In a harsh whisper he called back to Clarence, “I can’t find it. Are you sure there’s a knife here?”
“Watch out!” Clarence shouted, looking beyond Matt.
Matt heard a low chuckle behind him and turned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“MAN ALIVE, THIS BEATS the dutch!” Hank wheezed happily as he secured the ropes on Matt’s and Eveline’s wrists. “Good thing you came along, Wylie.”
“I guess it was,” Wylie replied. Matt stared at him with all the hatred he could muster. He recognized Wylie as the black man who had arrived in the tunnel right after Matt and Jack. Clarence had accused him of pretending to be a slave in order to catch runaways. Clarence was right.
“You’re gonna get it for tying me up like this,” Matt fumed.
“Shut up,” Hank hissed in Matt’s ear.
“I figure you can add this boy to what you owe me. You have three to take back with you now,” Wylie said with a smile.
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Boss said.
“Neither was you going so far out. We were supposed to meet in Gower’s Field, you’ll recall. All this riding hurts my hind parts,” Wylie complained. “So just add a few dollars to what you owe me.”
Boss looked as if he might argue, then changed his mind. “I swear, I’ve never known a darky to haggle the way you do. But you do good work and I won’t begrudge you that.” Boss marched over to his saddlebag and pulled out a small pouch. Coins clinked as he poured them into his palm, counting carefully as he did. When he was satisfied with the amount, he held out his hand to Wylie. “What we agreed and then some.”
Wylie took the money. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“You oughtta be ashamed of yourself,” Clarence growled at Wylie. “Betraying your own people for 30 pieces of silver. You’re a Judas! You sold yourself to the devil.”
Wylie chuckled in response. “I’ll be thinking about you when I have a hot bath and good meal in Connellsville tonight.” He tipped his hat to the three slave hunters. “Good hunting, my friends. You know where to find me if you need me again!” He bowed, then made his way into the woods.
“I never liked him and never liked doing business with him,” Sonny said. “I hope you didn’t give him much. Do you think this boy’ll fetch a good price?”
Boss grunted. “We’ll get what we expected for the buck and his girl, but this one’s scrawny.” He nudged Matt with the edge of his boot.
“You do anything to me and you’ll be in big trouble,” Matt challenged.
Hank and Sonny laughed at the boy’s spirit. Boss didn’t. He squinted at Matt thoughtfully. “Strange. He doesn’t act like a slave.”
“I’m not a slave!” Matt shouted.
“Then I reckon you better explain yourself,” Boss said. “Where’re you from and what’re you doing here?”
Matt sat up proudly. “I’m from Odyssey.”
“Are you?” Boss said skeptically. “You sure don’t dress like anybody I’ve ever seen in Odyssey. Where’d you get those funny-looking clothes?” He tugged at Matt’s jacket and sweatshirt.
“Well, I’m not from the Odyssey you know but from a different Odyssey…one in the future.”
The slave hunters looked at each other, bewildered. “What in blazes are you talking about?” Boss asked.
“See, Jack and I went through the tunnel to the workroom in Whit’s End, and that’s where we found the Imagination Station.”
“Whit’s End?” Boss shook his head.
“Crazy as a loon,” Sonny mumbled.
Matt protested, “I’m serious! We got into the Imagination Station and the next thing we knew, we were in the tunnel again, but it wasn’t the tunnel leading to Whit’s End, but to the church where we saw Reverend Andrew—”
“What a yarn,” Hank said with a chuckle.
“I’m telling the truth!” Matt shouted.
Boss nudged him harder with the toe of his boot. “Listen, boy. I wasn’t born in the woods to be scared by an owl—or to have a little urchin cut shines with me.”
“Huh?”
“Do you have papers? I need to see some proof that you’re free,” Boss demanded.
“We don’t need papers where I come from!” Matt said.
“I reckon that’s too bad for you,” Boss said. He turned to his companions. “Looks like he goes with us.”
Matt squirmed. “I don’t know who you guys think you are, but you’re going to be arrested for kidnapping if you don’t let us go right now! I mean it. Mr. Whittaker is going to show up any minute, and the police are going to lock you up and throw away the key!”
“Shut up, boy,” Boss said.
“No, I won’t shut up! You have no right to tie us up and—”
Matt didn’t get to finish his sentence. Boss suddenly backhanded him across the face. “I said to shut up and that’s what I meant!”
Matt was so startled that he didn’t notice the pain in the side of his face like a bee sting, or the tear that slid down his cheek without permission.
“All right, boys, let’s get some shut-eye. Tomorrow we take to the river,” Boss said. “You’re on the first watch, Sonny.”
“Me!” Sonny complained.
“Yeah, you. Then me. Then Hank.”
After the slave hunters were settled down for the night, Eveline leaned over to Matt. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
Matt swallowed back his tears and nodded.
“Don’t you fret,” Eveline said soothingly. “You’ll get used to it. That’s how they treat us.�
��
Matt thought, No, I won’t. I’ll never get used to it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
REVEREND ANDREW LIVED in a modest two-bedroom apartment in the Odyssey Hotel. To Jack, it looked the way rooms did in Western movies. Andrew had assembled a makeshift study on one side of the room, with a rolltop desk, shelves overburdened with books, a small sofa and reading chair, and an end table with a kerosene lamp. All of it sat atop a large, patterned throw rug that covered most of the wooden flooring. Small, painted pictures of country hills hung at odd angles on the walls.
At the moment, Jack and Andrew were sitting on the opposite side of the room at the dining table. Since he didn’t have a stove on which to cook, Andrew had brought up a meal of beef and potatoes from the hotel restaurant.
“No doubt you’re wondering why I’m living in the hotel,” Andrew said as he chomped on a particularly chewy piece of beef. “The apartment was given to me by some of our parishioners after slave hunters burned down my house several years ago.”
“They burned down your house?” Jack asked, vaguely remembering that the boys on the street had mentioned the fact. That conversation seemed like a long time ago.
“It was the rectory not far from the church. Perhaps you saw what’s left of it today,” Andrew said.
Jack nodded as he remembered the shell of the house near the woods. “But why did they burn down your house?”
Reverend Andrew shook his head. “It’s a long story. They didn’t appreciate the way I helped a family of runaways. The house caught fire when the fools decided to smoke the family out of the tunnel. That incident secured my place in the abolitionist movement. If I doubted the importance of the Underground before, I didn’t afterward. I’ve dedicated all I have to helping where I can to stop this abomination before God.”
Jack frowned. “I don’t understand how people can treat other people that way…just because of the color of their skin.”
“Obviously I agree,” Reverend Andrew said. “The Scriptures are clear about the dignity of all those for whom the Son of God died— regardless of their color. Slavery makes a sham of our humanity, a lie of our place as a Christian nation. The love of Christ cannot be spoken of with our mouths while our hands whip the backs of our brothers and shackle their arms and legs. God must weep in heaven. He must!”
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