Pineapple Press, Inc.

      Sarasota, Florida

      To my father, Marion Lanson Bishop Sr., who gave me many gifts—faith in God, loyalty to family and country, and a passion for history and reading

      Copyright © 2006 by Marilyn Bishop Shaw

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

      Inquiries should be addressed to:

      Pineapple Press, Inc.

      P.O. Box 3889

      Sarasota, Florida 34230

      www.pineapplepress.com

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Shaw, Marilyn Bishop, 1951-

      Solomon / Marilyn Bishop Shaw. — 1st ed.

      p. cm.

      Summary: Young Solomon works as hard as his parents, all former slaves, to make a living from their remote Florida homestead in the 1860s, but is encouraged in his dreams of a more adventurous life by Mr. Pete, a family friend and former Virginia plantation owner who now gathers and sells unclaimed cattle.

      Includes bibliographical references.

      ISBN-13: 978-1-56164-349-3 (hardback : alk. paper)

      ISBN-10: 1-56164-349-1 (hardback : alk. paper)

      [1. Frontier and pioneer life—Florida—Fiction. 2. Freedmen—Fiction. 3. African Americans—Fiction. 4. Race relations—Fiction. 5. Fathers and sons—Fiction. 6. Reconstruction (U.S.history, 1965-1877)—Florida—Fiction. 7. Florida—History—1865- —Fiction.] I. Title.

      PZ7.S5342513Sol 2006

      [Fic]—dc22

      2005030578

      First Edition

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

      ISBN 978-1-56164-585-5 (e-book)

      Cover art by Janeen Mason

      Printed in the United States of America

1

      June 1866

      Father and son sat shoulder to shoulder. Having talked most of the half-mile walk to the river, it was time to get down to business at their favorite fishing hole. Their extra-long lines dropped fourteen feet from the rock bluff to the dark surface of the water and eight more feet to the baited hook in the middle of the river sink. Except for an occasional comment about a missed bite or the size of a catch, the only sound around them was the little rapid that echoed downriver from their perch.

      They both jumped when a razor-sharp shot broke their peace.

      “What kind of gun is that, Papa?”

      A shiver crawled down the Moses Freeman’s spine. “I heard that sound afore, boy, and it ain’t no gun.”

      Just then, a long, lanky man on horseback broke through the scrub behind them. The pair was cautious because not many people came through these woods and not all who did could be trusted. Pulling up poles, they stood to face the rider who was still coiling the longest strap young Solomon had ever seen.

      “Mornin’ to ya,” said the stranger. Moses Freeman touched his hat in greeting and then put a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. Solomon knew this meant he should hold his peace.

      The man stepped from his horse, the coil in his hand, but cautiously didn’t step toward the pair. “I ran into a spittin’ mad bobcat back there. Guess I interrupted your catch. Having any luck?”