Solomon. Marilyn Bishop Shaw
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the end of this, too, Papa!” Bless that boy, thought Lela. He can still keep a cheerful spirit as tired as he must be.
It took several more days to weave and secure the palmetto fronds thickly and tightly enough to give a waterproof shelter. Their hands were blistered and cut from working with the sharp fan-shaped palmetto leaves. Their arms ached, their backs ached; they were tired to the bone. The three of them stood looking up at their house. “It’s a fine house, Moses, a fine house.”
“It’ll sure do us for a while, an’ it’s a sight better than the wagon even without a front wall. But I tell you, I don’t think I ever been so tired out. Not even after pickin’ cotton all day long in roastin’ Georgia sun.” He noticed Lela flexing her hands. “Oh, my little Lela. Look at them hands. Your hands wasn’t meant for this kind of work. What have I brought you to, girl?”
She quickly pulled her hands away from him before he could see just how badly cut she was. “You go away, Mister Freeman. I just had it too easy all those years growing up with Missy Walker. If I’d stayed on as her lady’s maid I’d have been spoilt and good for nothing sure.” Before he could say another word she continued, “Now, let me see if I can find some cold biscuits and a little of that wild honey Solomon and Sunny stumbled into. If you two men are as hungry as I am, you could eat that honey, bees and all!”
Moses slapped his hat on his leg and chuckled. “Well, I say we ought to enjoy every drop of that honey after all the stings Solomon and Sunny got finding it!” They collapsed at the food box enjoying the relief of a good laugh.
As he put the last big bite of his third cathead biscuit in his mouth, Moses looked thoughtful. “Family, what do you say we have ourselves a little adventure?”
“Adventure, Papa?” Solomon’s big round eyes were gleaming.
“Moses Freeman, what have you got in that fool head of yours this time?” Lela asked, a gleam of curiosity and suspicion under her highly arched right eyebrow.
“I tell you what’s in my fool head, woman. We been working from can to cain’t ever day since we been here. Now, I don’t mind work, but it’s time we took us a break. Mercy, we even had a day of rest near ’most every week when we was slaves!” Lela and Solomon tried to wait patiently, knowing that Moses would reveal his plan in his own time in his own way. “We ain’t looked around these parts much, only what we could see going where we had to go for fishing, or clay dirt, or such. S’pose we take a little look around. Maybe to the south a piece. The coast is s’pose to be south of us but I don’t rightly know how far. Maybe we could even get to the salty part and dry us up some fresh salt.”
“That we could use. I’m all but out, and without a little salt none of our fine stews will taste so good. Maybe we could take the wagon and gather up a supply of good roots and herbs. Oh, and these biscuits are the end of the flour. Maybe we can find some of that coontie to grind up. They say it makes passable flour.”
“Yeah, Mama, and maybe we can find some good fat raccoons and rabbits. I been saving the hides to trade when we can find a place to do the trading.”
“Hold on there, you two. You got your store list all wrote out, don’t you, Miss Lela?” Moses asked.
“I guess I do know a thing or two we could use,” Lela answered as she cocked her head thinking of still more things to add to her shopping list.
“It’s settled then, best get good sleep ’cause we leave at first light.”
By dawn, all three were up and ready to leave. Some debate slowed their leaving as they tried to decide whether they’d have to use Sunny and Sudie for pack or if they could take the wagon. They had no idea what they would encounter, but hoped to find enough roots, herbs, nuts, and animal hides to fill the wagon. They would go as far as they could. If they had to leave the wagon and return to it later, they’d depend on Solomon’s keen sense of direction to relocate it.
With a week ahead of them to enjoy the freedom of exploration, they left their little home with light hearts. Solomon raced ahead of the wagon, darting from one curiosity to another. Moses walked mostly but sometimes he sat on the wagon seat with Lela as she drove, her eye constantly on the lookout for the items on her shopping list. Their pace was slow but steady.
The further south they moved, the more frequently they stopped, and Lela’s herb and root baskets were filling more quickly than she’d expected. They’d found ginger, lamb’s ear, and tree moss for healing. There were wild garlic and wild onions for cooking. They even dug coontie roots. It wasn’t anything like white flour, but the roots could be ground and dried into passable flour when nothing else was available.
Hopping from the wagon and scurrying toward a miniature hammock of sassafras, Lela fairly danced. “Come on, Old Massah Winter,” Lela sang out, her arms flying outward as she spun around and around. “Lela’s ready for you now. She has a warm house, roots for making flour and boiling, and herbs for seasoning and healing. So, you just come on and try to get me!” Solomon and his father doubled over laughing at Lela’s dance.
Lela staggered to a stop at the sound of a click and a voice. “Oh, girlie, I’ll come and get you, all right.” His pistol was pointed straight at her. Moses and Solomon froze. This was trouble for sure.
The intruder was joined by two more who looked just as dirty and mean as the one who had spoken. The leader took a step toward Lela, taunting her with the pistol. “Oh, aye, my little chocolate girl. Ye are a little beauty, ain’t ye?” The barrel of the pistol traced the edge of Lela’s cheek and defiance shone from her emerald eyes. “Mmm, sure some pure blood in you, ain’t they?” He turned to one of the other men. “She could ’bout pass fer one of them señoritas, couldn’t she, boys?.”
“She sure ’nough could, Pork,” another lowlife growled. Moses didn’t stop to think if it was right or not, he just spoke. “That ain’t your little girl, mister, she my wife,” he said as he put a protective arm in front of Solomon, “and the mother of this youngun.” He hoped these men had some care about them. In his heart, he doubted they did.
The two observers snorted at Moses’ attempt to protect Lela. She could smell the one called Pork. Good name, she thought, he smells enough like a hog. They were all filthy and unshaven. From their looks, they could be farmers, Rebel fugitives, or drunks. The two men stepped in and took Lela’s arms as Pork turned his attention and his pistol onto Moses.
“Looks like you ain’t in much position to hep her, now ere ye, boy? Best ye just sit polite-like over there and leave us to our party.” He aimed the gun upward, directly into Moses’ face.
The startling crack of the whip snatched the gun from Pork’s hand much to his surprise. Lela broke from her captors when their attention was drawn to the source of the ambush. In an instant, the horseman dismounted between the Freemans and the three scalawags, with the whip firmly in control of the trio. “Mr. Freeman, are you all alright?” His eyes didn’t leave the three outlaws.
Pork spit and grunted, “Mister? Mister Freeman?” The whip’s hold tightened even more. The men were still and silent.
Solomon was the only one who managed to speak. “Mr. Harker, you done saved us sure.” His stunned parents could only nod agreement.
“Solomon,” Harker asked, “do you have some rope in the wagon?”
“Yessir, plenty,” he answered, racing toward the wagon before Harker even finished his question.
Moses and Pete tied each man securely to a pine tree, working in silence. Moses gave the last knot a good, strong jerk. “I tell you, Mr. Harker. I can’t say I ever been gladder to see a body in my whole life. We owe you a debt, sir. Don’t know how we’ll repay you, but we owe you sure.”
“I can’t think of better people to help out. It was just what needed doing, is all. You don’t owe me a thing.”
“What are we gonna to do with these men, Mr. Harker?” asked Solomon.
“Well,