by Don Bendell
This man shot deer for meat whenever he wanted to feed his family, but he enjoyed occasionally taking a large buck for its antlers. It was simply a skill he’d acquired years earlier and took pride in being good at.
Joshua stood slowly, his hands raised. It immediately became clear to him that this man was not connected with Robert Hartwell in any way.
Strongheart said, “I mean you no harm, sir. My name is Joshua Strongheart, and I work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”
The man said, “I’ve heard of you.”
Joshua said, “Can I put my hands down?”
“Nope,” the man replied, “Walk over to yuh gun belt.”
Strongheart complied.
The man said, “Use yer toe and turn it over, so I can see yer knife.”
Joshua did and the man smiled.
He said, “Now, turn it over again, so I kin see yer holster.”
Joshua did, and the man saw the miniature sheriff’s star on his holster and grinned.
He lowered his rifle and said, “You kin grab your hogleg and rig, Mr. Strongheart.”
The man started climbing down from the tree stand, and Joshua pulled on his boots and walked over, retrieving and buckling on his gun belt. He walked up to the man and shook hands with him.
The man said, “Ya got coffee? My name is Sammy Davis.”
Strongheart grabbed his coffeepot and the makings and set it on the small fire, building it up a little.
They were soon sitting by the fire drinking coffee while Joshua briefed him on what was going on. The middle-aged black man had an easy smile, and a build that showed many years of using his muscles. His hands were rough, too, and Strongheart could tell they had handled many tools over the years. There was a hint of gray creeping into his curly black hair.
Joshua said, “Hey, Sammy, you are not what I would call snow white. Why did you call me a blanket nigger?”
Sammy chuckled and said, “Wal, I seen you was either an Injun or half-breed, and I wanted to git your attention right off. I was nervous. Looking at you riding up, I could see you was a man who had ridden the river a time or two.”
Strongheart said, “You sure got my attention. You were in that tree stand the whole time?”
Sammy replied, “Darned shore was.”
Joshua shook his head, grinning.
Sammy said, “I know what yer thinking. Why do I talk this way instead of like a Southern former slave? I was a slave and escaped by way of the Underground Railroad and made it to this part of the country. Then, I headed west and stayed fer a long time. Picked up this accent, too, I s’pose.”
“Why did you come back to this area if you were living in the West?” Joshua asked.
Sammy replied, “I done a lot of stuff, but didn’t feel like I was accomplishin’ a thing. I wanted to come back here and help out with the Underground Railroad.”
“The Underground Railroad?” Strongheart said, “I thought that ended years ago, even before the Civil War?”
“Thet’s what everybody thinks, but it still exists,” Sammy said, “Not like it was before, but we help a few here and there. I’m called a conductor.”
Fascinated, Joshua said, “What does that mean?”
“Well, just ’cuz slavery is outlawed don’t mean that a lot of landowners in the South abide by thet. The KKK still runs amok, and they is quite a few little towns and communities thet keep stuff hushed up,” Sammy answered. “There is still a real quiet Underground Railroad, mainly in Ohio, but some around here and in Pennsylvania, too. We get stories ’bout slaves or sharecroppers thet are about like slaves in the South. I go there, bring ’em up here, and we give ’em clothes, help ’em find jobs, or move ’em further east to find jobs, mainly in Ohio. We got some ole boys with money who donate a lot to help out. I can trust you with all this, ’cuz you know what folks like mine go through with bein’ a half-breed.”
Strongheart poured them both cups of coffee, and Sammy went on, “We’re gonna have to sneak you outta here usin’ the Underground Railroad.”
“Why?” Joshua asked.
The former slave replied, “’Cuz, all the bad men around these parts was hired up by thet character on the big black horse, and I jest heerd he has some headin’ this way on the railroad. He ain’t gonna want you makin’ it ta Washington from what you told me.”
“How?” Strongheart asked, “How did you learn that?”
Sammy took a long sip of coffee and grinned broadly, “I told you, I’m with the Underground Railroad. We have us a network across the North and parts of the South. We know what’s goin’ on and git the news out to each other fast.”
Strongheart took a thoughtful sip on his coffee and asked, “Then, can you find out for me about the condition of Lucky DeChamps with the Pinkerton Detective Agency? He was shot up bad and in a hospital in Denver.”
Sammy said, “Shore. We can find out about him. Where’s he work outta?”
“Headquarters in Chicago,” Strongheart replied.
“Well, we need ta git you in a good hidin’ place,” Sammy said, “You git back to takin’ yer nap, and I’ll stand watch. I may take me a looksee in a little bit, too.”
Strongheart said, “Are you sure, Sammy?”
Sammy chuckled.
He said, “Son, I been around heah a good bit, and I know all the woods in the area like the back of this old, wrinkled, scarred-up, brown hand.”
Joshua nodded in appreciation and lay back down. He closed his eyes and thought about Lucky and the first time they’d met. Oddly enough, many miles to the northwest in Chicago, Lucky was also thinking about it.
One of Pinkerton’s supervisors was Francois Luc DeChamps, who was born in Paris, but came to the U.S. as a young boy and changed his name to Frank DeChamps, but all in his family and American friends started calling him Lucky, for his middle name, when he was a slightly larger than a bean sprout. He considered Joshua Strongheart a tremendous asset for the Pinkertons.
Lucky was dining with a date in a very popular upscale restaurant in downtown Chicago, a city already known for great eateries. Lucky noticed his date eyeballing a man who walked in and who was escorted to his table by the maître d’. Tall, broad-shouldered, and very handsome, he was obviously half-Indian and half-white and Lucky could not help but notice the way all the women looked at him.
At the table next to him was a very large, boisterous, obviously drunken police lieutenant. It was obvious that was his profession because he made it clear in a loud voice that that was what he did. The man was a mean drunk and wanted to intimidate all who were within earshot. Worse yet, he intimidated and embarrassed his wife seated at his table. The man was complaining about anything and everything. Cursing the wine steward and his waiter both, this finally brought over the maître d’, who tried to politely ask the man to leave.
The large man stood and shoved the maître d’, who fell over a chair, and several people in the room murmured. The waiter helped the man up.
The bully bellowed, “Do you know who I am? I am Lieutenant Daniel Alexander of the Chicago Police Department! If you think you can bamboozle me, you . . .”
His slurring was stopped when Joshua Strongheart stood up. Alexander gave him a mean look and said, “What do you want, you blanket nigger? What are you even doing in this place?”
Joshua kept smiling and said, “Sir, didn’t you say you were Lieutenant Daniel Alexander?”
“Yea, so what?” the man snarled.
Joshua extended his hand saying, “I have heard all about you and your heroism, sir. I just wanted to shake your hand.”
The drunk was taken aback, and he extended his hand, but when they shook Lucky noticed the big man grimace in pain. That was when Lucky saw that Strongheart, while shaking, stuck a pencil between the policeman’s ring finger and middle finger and then squeezed his hand while pretendin
g to shake. He then grabbed the man’s elbow and, appearing to be friendly, strong-armed him toward the door, all the way talking nicely to him. The wife sat in her chair and buried her face in her hands and cried.
Lucky excused himself and walked over to the window, where he watched as, outside, Strongheart stuck his foot out and tripped the big man and slammed his head into a gas lamppost. He slumped to the ground unconscious. Joshua then summoned two police officers over and spoke to them, and they began to laugh and shake their heads. They both shook hands with Joshua and grabbed the officer by his upper arms. Lucky sat down with his date.
Strongheart came back in and was asked by Lucky to join him and his date. He told Joshua about seeing the pencil and appreciated Joshua’s quick thinking and classy handling of the matter. To make a long story short, he found out that the half-breed was job hunting and Lucky hired him on the spot for the Pinkerton Agency.
Joshua opened his eyes when he smelled meat cooking with lot of spices on it. Sammy was over a frying pan cooking potatoes and corn and had backstraps from a young doe already broiling over the fire on a green stick spit.
Joshua said, “I heard you leave and heard you come back, but knew you had me covered.”
Sammy grinned. “You shore slept good, Strongheart. You been conked out fer a good two hours,” he said.
Joshua Strongheart said, “That venison sure smells good. I guess you checked the area out?”
Sammy handed him a slice of backstrap, potatoes, and corn and Joshua dug in. It was some of the best cooking he had tasted in a long time. The two spoke over a great meal and more coffee, then broke camp, covering all evidence of their presence. Joshua looked over at Eagle. His ears were up, his nostrils flaring, and he gave a low whinny, a signal to his master.
Sammy and Joshua both stood.
Sammy said, “Grab yer gear and climb up into mah tree stand.”
Joshua looked over at Eagle and gave him a shooing motion.
He said, “Eagle, go!”
Eagle seemed to understand and trotted off. Both men clambered up the branches to the camouflaged tree stand, carrying Joshua’s saddle and gear. They held still. Two of Hartwell’s henchmen came into view minutes later. They had carbines across their saddle swells and their heads were moving side to side. Both men had the look of two little boys tiptoeing through a cemetery at midnight.
The reason that tree stands have always worked for hunting deer is because prey seldom look up in the trees. Most animals and humans will look all around them but never remember to look up above for danger. The two gunmen below were about to learn an expensive lesson. They came directly below the tree stand after fifteen minutes of scouring the ground looking at Eagle’s tracks. One of them finally spotted Joshua’s boot tracks running to the base of the tree.
Joshua whispered to Sammy, “Stay back out of sight.”
Both men followed the tracks right to the tree and looked up the trunk, and straight into the broadly grinning face of Joshua Strongheart, holding two cocked weapons pointed at the two would-be killers.
Strongheart said, “Howdy, boys. I’ve been waiting for you. I have been wanting to send Robert Hartwell a message. You can deliver it for me.”
• • •
It was well after dark when the horses of the two gun hands rode into the circle of light of Hartwell’s camp, which had lookouts all around the tight perimeter. Both men were gagged with their scarves, both were wearing only their long johns, both were missing their boots, clothing, hats, and guns, and both were tied backward in their saddles. Hartwell looked at both men, and they each had the deer-staring-at-torchlight look on their sweaty faces.
• • •
Sammy had trotted next to Eagle for a mile, and they had come to his mule grazing near a creek. He was now mounted up and riding alongside Strongheart. They rode along slowly through the darkness.
Strongheart said, “Earlier, I told you to stay back, because I do not want Hartwell knowing you are helping me.”
“Believe me, Strongheart,” Sammy replied. “I understand.”
“Mule man, huh?” Joshua replied.
“Nope,” Sammy said. “I have a nice big chestnut Thoroughbred I travel on, but I always use a mule when I’m hunting deer, buffaler, or bears. They pack a lot better.”
Strongheart said, “We’re heading east. Where are we going?”
“Ohio,” Sammy said with a grin.
Joshua said, “You don’t have any gear or anything.”
He saw Sammy grinning in the moonlight.
He said, “We’re not going tonight. I’m taking you to a safe house tonight.”
They rode for hours mainly through woods, and Strongheart found himself impressed with this unusual man. He moved easily through the darkness and showed he was clearly a man of the wilderness.
After he escaped and fled the horrible plantation he was raised on back in North Carolina, Sammy made it west to Charlotte, where he met a member of the Underground Railroad. Eventually he was smuggled to Cleveland, Ohio, where he was given housing, a little money, and a job in a steel factory near where the Cuyahoga River met Lake Erie, which was like the ocean to Sammy. Later, he made it out west, where he worked as a cowboy on several cattle drives. Then he tried his hand as a mountain man trapping beaver mainly in the Wind River Range. Following that, he journeyed to California, where he prospected for gold in several places. The whole time, he thought back to how much he had been helped by the Underground Railroad, and it kept drawing him back.
They rode for hours and came upon a very large house with a number of barns and outbuildings. There were many flowers around the house and a vegetable garden. In the moonlight, Joshua could tell this big property was well taken care of. Right below the house was a bubbling creek, a dam, and a large pond, the surface rippling in the moonlight. In the middle of the pond was a large island covered with trees, and cattails were clearly visible around the edges.
Lanterns were lit in the big house when they rode up. The front door opened and a man came out holding a lantern. Joshua and Sammy dismounted and Sammy took his reins and led both the horse and mule to the man.
He said, “Buck, this is Mr. Strongheart. Please take his horse to the safe place, put up hay and feed for him. Let Mr. Strongheart get his saddlebags and rifle.”
Joshua nodded at Buck and said, “The name is Joshua.”
The short, stocky black man smiled and waited for Strongheart to take his rifle, bedroll, and saddlebags. He led the two equines away toward the barn complex.
Strongheart said, “Is this your place?”
Just then, the door opened and a ravishing brunette woman walked out the door, also carrying a lantern, and wearing a very expensive long gown, which could not hide the curves. She glided down the steps, and it was obvious there was an immediate attraction between her and Strongheart. He had not had feelings like this since Belle died. She stuck out her hand, and he shook it, noticing the softness and the firm handshake.
“Brenna Alexander,” she said. “Welcome to my home, sir.”
He smiled, doffed his hat, and said, “Joshua Strongheart, ma’am.”
She said, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Strongheart. Hi, Sammy.”
Sammy removed his hat, smiled, and replied, “Hello, Brenna. Sorry to come so late, but it’s a Railroad problem. We need to hide him and his horse for a while.”
“Joshua, please, ma’am,” Strongheart said,.
She replied, “Okay, Joshua, and please call me Brenna.”
He nodded. She led the way up the porch steps and into the mansion.
She said over her shoulder, “We can discuss it over breakfast, but for now let’s get him hidden and rested.”
She led the way through the massive great room and into the library. Sammy walked over and reached up inside the fireplace and pulled a hidden lever. One of the book
cases popped open, and he swung it out like a door. They entered and went down a stone stairway ending in a long, dark, cold passageway. She led the way for what Joshua figured had to be at least four hundred feet, and they came to another stairway. They ascended, she opened a door, and they landed in a small room in a comfortable cabin. Joshua was amazed and impressed.
She lit another lantern and a wood-burning stove with kindling already in it. There was a coffeepot on the stove. She took it over to the sink and pumped water into it from a pump handle in the sink.
Smiling, she said, “This will be your home for a while, Joshua. It even has its own well, and this cannot be seen from anywhere. Only chimney smoke when there is no wind or breeze.”
Joshua smiled and shook his head, saying, “I’m dumbfounded. Where is this located?”
She said, “Did you see the island in the moonlight?”
“Yes, I did,” he said, “You mean we are on that island?”
Brenna grinned, “That passageway is under the floor of the pond. My father had it excavated when he created the pond and built all this. This cabin has shuttered windows and there are trees and vegetation blocking the view of the cabin. You will be free to relax here. Many runaway slaves were hidden out here and nobody ever discovered the passageway or the cabin. I purposely have no boats on the shore. You’ll be safe here until we move you, Joshua.
