Chapter 7: Sam

            “Sam?” Reuben asked dumbfounded.

            “You heard me Brother DeLay. You are taking Sam with you,” Montgomery retorted.

            Many thoughts ran through Reuben’s mind as he pondered Montgomery’s demand. Sam was the slave he encountered on his first day in Linn County. How could he get him safely out of Kansas? What would happen if they were caught? The Bogus Laws of the Lecompton legislature prescribed the death penalty for anyone caught smuggling a fugitive slave. Not to mention it was also a crime under the federal Fugitive Slave Act. It was a huge risk.

            “What makes you think I can pull it off?”

            “Well, for one thing you have managed to get that central Missouri accent down pat. We’re going to give you a cover story that will get you all the way to Tabor. Then your friends in the Iowa Underground Railroad will take over.”

            “What about Sam’s family back in Misourah? He won’t go without them.”

            “We’ve got their escape all figured out. Sam will run away on the same night. They will be guided up the line to join Sam in Iowa. There’s a preacher in Centerville that will handle things from there.”

            Reuben knew of only one preacher in Centerville who was involved with the Underground. It had to be Uncle Jacob. Then he remembered telling Montgomery about his Uncle’s activities. The two had been corresponding with coded letters for months as they plotted the escape of Sam’s family. It was now up to Reuben to make Sam’s escape a success.

            “If Uncle Jacob’s involved, I’ll do it. He has never failed to pass someone through to freedom. Mind you, I have to close out my affairs here before I leave. When are we talking about springing him?”

            “Mid-October. The harvest will be done and the slaves will get some free time on Sundays. Sell what you need to and our grazing association will take care of your remaining stock for the winter. It will all be here when you return in the spring with that new wife of yours.”

            Reuben gulped. What if Margaret found out that he was placing himself in such danger? Then he remembered how she had admired the courage of the locals who were participating in Appanoose County’s leg of the Underground. No, she wouldn’t mind. Especially if no one told her until it was over. She might even see her fiancé as a hero.

            “It better be a real good plan,” he declared.

            “It is. With your accent and the story we are concocting for you, it can’t fail.”

            Montgomery’s comment sent a shiver up his spine. A story? He didn’t consider himself much of a fibber. Six months in Kansas had, however, improved his lying skills along with his ability to mimic a southern accent.

            That night he lay in his shelter and thought about retracing his steps back to Iowa. How would he get past Leavenworth with its pro-slavery sheriff? Would Montgomery’s cover story hold up? Then, there were the hundred little tasks he would still have to do before starting the journey. Put up hay for the grazing association. Sell the hogs. Prepare more logs for the cabin. Build a cache to keep his equipment and possessions in. The list went on.

            It was late Sunday afternoon on October 12 when Reuben arrived at Montgomery’s fort. Clarinda ushered him in quietly. The kids looked up, but said nothing. Montgomery was sitting at the table.

            “Is he here?” Reuben asked.

            Montgomery leaned down to move a badly worn rug on the floor. Then he lifted a trap door. So that was how the wily old man had escaped from the Ruffians so many times, Reuben speculated.

            “Sam, come on up!”

            A second later a black head with big eye whites emerged from the hidden tunnel. When his white teeth flashed in a smile, Reuben knew it was Sam.

            “Howdy Massah DeLay,” I’s about to get mah freedom.”

            Reuben smiled and gripped the Black man’s hand.

            “Let’s have some supper and I’ll fill you in on the plan,” said Montgomery.

            Well, aren’t we an odd trio, Reuben thought as Clarinda ladled out the stew and placed fresh bread on the table.

            “You any good with a whip?” asked Montgomery.

            “Ah, I suppose so. I can get an ox team’s attention with one.”

            “Good! After supper you are going to whip Sam.”

            Reuben was horrified. “Whip him? Whatever for?”

            “Because you just caught him and you are taking him back to Missouri for the reward.”

            Reuben looked over at Sam who was calmly savoring his stew. Then it dawned on him. He would be masquerading as a slave catcher as he took Sam through hostile territory. It was a good cover story, but there was one catch.

            “But I’ll be taking him north!”

            “That’s all been figured out. You just caught him and now you are after his companion who is headed north. You’ll have warrants and newspaper clippings from Missouri to prove it. Each one of them is real, except for the one that mentions Moses here.” Montgomery said pointing at Sam.

            Reuben nodded. Montgomery had this all figured out. After supper, the three men went outside. Sam stripped off his shirt and wrapped his arms around an oak tree.

            “Do it!” Montgomery commanded, handing Reuben the whip.

            Wincing, Reuben took the whip and uncoiled it behind him.

            Crack! He missed.

            “It’s Ok Massah, I’s used to it.”

            Montgomery looked at Reuben and jerked his head toward Sam.

            “This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you.” This time the whip struck Sam’s shoulder. It raised a six-inch welt.

            “Harder Massah!”

            The whip cracked again striking home. Sam flinched in pain, but continued to grasp the tree. Reuben administer six blows in all, some drawing blood.

            “That will do,” Montgomery said approvingly. “Next come the shackles. I had them made especially for Sam. The pins can be knocked out with a hammer or a rock.”

            By then it was dark. They took the shackled Sam over to a runabout and helped him into the back.

            “The Leavenworth Road is too dangerous, so you’ll have to head northwest and turn when you hit the Topeka Road. Use the North Star as a guide. In Topeka, you’ll stop at the Scales house. He’ll hide Sam until it is safe to continue the journey north. He’ll likely route you through a station in Holton. You’ll cross the Missouri at Tabor, Iowa and go to the house of Reverand Todd. Got it?”

Reuben nodded.

“Now be off with you! Get as far away from Linn County as you can tonight. You can rest when you’re dead.”

Reuben launched himself into the runabout’s seat and took the reins. They headed west along Sugar creek for a few miles before turning northwest. As they traveled the two men chatted.

“I sure ‘preciate what yer doin’ Massah.”

“We don’t need that Massah stuff out here. You can call me Reuben or Mr. DeLay if you please.”

“How far is Topeka?”

“About seventy miles if we don’t get too lost.”

“What’s Iowa like?”

“Like Kansas without all the Bushwhackers. Good corn country.”

“You reckin mah wife and kids will make it there?”

“Uncle Jacob never fails. He’s got a whole network of folks helping.”

“I sure hope so. If’n mah wife and chillen don’t make it, I’ll hafta go back. Massah Morgan will sell mah family down the river if I runs away  without them.”

Reuben shuddered at the thought of Sam returning to slavery. He had to make his part of the plan work. Would the conductors and station masters on the Underground Railway do theirs? It was complicated. The two men were going to have to do a lot of serious praying.

Two days later, they were on the Topeka Road when a wagon approached. The driver, a rough-looking character with a brace of pistols and a whip reined in.

“Whatca doin with that darky?”

“Going to Topeka to find another one.”

“Got a warrant?”

Reuben now understood that his first impression of the man was correct. He was a man-stealer.

“Course I do. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Reuben and the other man pulled out their ads and warrants. Some were identical, except for the one for Moses and his escape partner.”

That one read,

                        Runaways

From the subscriber near Glasgow, Howard County, Mo. Ttwo Negro boys aged 26 and 29 named Moses and Jim. Moses is 5 feet 10 inches and wide build with heavy black beard. Insolent of character. Has marks from repeated whippings. Jim is 5 foot 8 inches, pointed beard, balding head, slender build, long sharp nose and missing upper front tooth. A liberal reward of 15 Dollars each, plus expenses,  for their return is offered.

                                                S.A. McTavish

                                                October 3, 1856

“Looks to be in order,” said the other man comparing “Moses” to the flyer Reuben had presented him. I got flummoxed by them cursed abolitionists in Topeka. Now I’m comin’ back empty hopin. to spot a stray runaway on the road.”

“There is always that chance. I had to use the whip to git Moses here to tell me whar his pardner was headed.” Reuben said, pointing to the blood spots on the back of Sam’s shirt.

“I got lucky hereabouts last summer. Found a group of three. One of ‘em was a purdy Quadroon wench. I figured she was worth a lot of money in one of them New Orleans sportin’ houses. Had some fun with her myself.”

The comment sickened Reuben. He could almost feel Sam’s anger boiling up behind him. He had to do something about this evil man.

“Chew?” Reuben asked pulling out a plug of tobacco.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The two men got down from their wagons. Reuben cut off a big chunk of tobacco and handed it to the man. Then he cut a smaller piece for himself. He didn’t smoke or chew, but the tobacco added to his credibility of his southern slave-hunter persona. Their conversation was one-sided with the man complaining about the abolitionists who were trying to ruin the South.  After a few minutes, the slave-catcher walked over to a tree to relieve himself. Seeing his opportunity, Reuben grabbed the man’s warrants and slipped them to Sam. They would be far down the Topeka Road before the man noticed.

It was getting dark when their rig pulled into Topeka the next evening. It took a while, but they found the Scales place. Mrs. Scales ushered them inside while her husband prepared the hiding place. It was a large barrel in a hidden space under the floor. Sam took one look at it and laughed. He would never fit. He’d just take up a place in a dark corner of the cellar. Fortunately, they didn’t have to stay long. They were off to Holton the next day. From there it was only a day’s ride to the Nebraska border.

“You’re in a free territory now Sam,” Reuben exclaimed as they passed a small marker. “It won’t be long now before we’re in Iowa.”

“I’s hoping I stays free. Them slave-catchers can still come after me.”

“That’s true, but the people here are more likely to protect you. We’ll have to trust in the good Lord to keep findin’ them for us. Tabor is full of good folks.”

Indeed Tabor, Iowa was more than welcoming. Reverand Todd’s big house was easy to find. He greeted them warmly. The weary travelers washed up before being treated to a sumptuous meal.

“Normally the line would take Sam to Des Moines,” remarked the reverend. “From there, it’s easy to get to Chicago and on to Canada. Are you sure you want to leave the railroad and go to Appanoose County?

“That’s our plan, Sam has his family waiting for him there,” said Reuben.

“What if they have already been caught? Todd asked. “Wouldn’t Sam be better off heading for Des Moines?”

“No Suh, if’n mah family gets catched, I gotta go back to Missourah. They’ll be sold down the river if’n I don’t.”

“I suppose so. I’ll pray for your family’s deliverance and that you have made the right decision. Good luck in your journey.”

Nearly two weeks later, Reuben reined in. They were less than a mile from Uncle Jacob’s place. He had San sit on the end of the wagon while he knocked the pins out of the shackles. Sam looked up quizzically.

“It’s your turn to drive.”

A broad grin swept across Same’s face. Then, the apprehension returned. “Lordy, I hope mah family’s there.”

“They will be,” Reuben assured him.

Fifteen minutes later they were approaching Jacob’s house. A young lady seated on the porch crocheting looked up. A flash of amazement crossed her face as she recognized her cousin seated next to a Black man. She jumped up dropping her work and dashed into the house. Seconds later three little Blak children followed by their mother emerged.

“Papa!”

Sam was free at last. Well, almost.

Index: Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman– Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies (azrockdodger.com)

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