Читать книгу Still Standing: Surviving Custer's Last Battle - Part 1 - Judith Gotwald - Страница 6

Tom and Autie Custer were more than brothers; they were bosom friends. Both worked hard on the family farm, taking turns with the farm chores.

Autie liked caring for the livestock the best.

Emanuel Custer, the boys’ father, was the best blacksmith in Monroe County, Michigan. Farmers from all the nearby villages brought their horses to the Custer farm. After Emanuel repaired the horse’s shoes, Autie would ride the horses back to their owners’ homes. There wasn’t a horse in the county that George Armstrong Custer had not ridden. At the age of 13 he was already a master horseman.

Tom was nearly three years younger than Autie. There was a brother Nevin, between them and they had a little brother, Boston, who they called Bos. They had a bunch of doting half brothers and sisters from their parents’ previous marriages, but all were treated equally under the Custer roof. The Custers were one big, happy, rollicking family.

Tom and Autie shared a special camaraderie. Autie loved the role of big brother and Tom worshiped him. They spent most of their time together. Their friendship made a hard farming life bearable.

Today’s chore was tending the kitchen garden. It seemed like girl’s work to Autie and Tom, but everyone in the family took a turn. Corn, wheat, beets, potatoes, cucumbers, turnips, beans, squash, onions and greens would feed the family through the summer. Basil, parsley, rosemary, sage, thyme, mustard, horseradish and dill would add zing and help preserve food for winter. Any extra produce would be carted into town to be sold to the local inn.

The garden stretched from the house to the River Raisin, which emptied into nearby Lake Erie. The herbs were grown closest to the house, with the vegetables next. Berries grew close to the river. Along each side of the garden, running between the farmhouse and the River Raisin, were rows of apple trees.

Autie enjoyed the view from the farmhouse porch. Looking across the vast garden toward the water, he thought, “If it weren’t such work, our garden might be called Eden.”

He and Tom worked the fields the way their father had taught them — one at one end of the field, the other at the opposite end. They assumed this had something to do with proper farming. It would be years before it dawned on them that it was Pap’s way of keeping the boys separated and focused on their work.

The two boys had been picking, weeding and pruning for an hour and it was time for a break. Autie signaled Tom. They dropped their rakes and hoes and ran along a dirt wagon trail running by one row of apple trees to the river. There, they quickly shed their shoes and socks and stretched out on the bank, chewing on blades of grass and dangling their feet in the cool water.

Farm work never ended, but somehow the boys always seemed to have time for fun. Their favorite activity was plotting a prank against another family member. All in the Custer family were fair game, but their favorite target was their little brother, Boston.

“Boston is such an easy mark,” Tom commented. “Seems like a sin to prank him.”

“Aww, a good prank is good for him,” Autie answered. “It’s up to us to make a man of him some day.”

“So what do you have planned?” Tom asked. Tom remembered their last prank. They must have missed the message at church that morning. They knew that Boston would find a reason to walk home past a certain little girl’s house. The boys planted a broken plank on the wooden sidewalk. The boys had stood watch to make sure no innocent passersby tripped before Boston happened along. When they saw Bos coming, they ducked behind the shrubbery.

The plan worked better than they had imagined. As Boston walked past, peering at the house for a glimpse of Sally Mae, he stepped firmly on the broken plank and hurdled head first onto the sidewalk, landing at the foot of the path to Sally Mae’s front porch. His fair damsel had run to his rescue, fussing over her red-faced admirer.

“She got an eyeful,” Tom thought and smiled to himself. “Well, tomorrow is his day to tend to the horses, isn’t it?” Autie began plotting.

“What if one of the horses was to go missing just about the time that Father comes in from the fields?”

Tom pondered the possibilities. “How are we going to lose a horse?”

Autie always had the answers. “We’ll have to delay Bos at lunch.” He paused as he sorted out some details in his mind. He ventured again eagerly. “This is going to be good.”

Autie started to talk faster as his plan took shape and his enthusiasm grew. “It will be like a double prank. We’ll get him when he visits the outhouse. I’ll jam the door. While he’s trying to get out, you go to the barn and hightail it over the ridge, just out of sight—not too far.”

Tom saw the plot coming together and nodded his approval. “Then while I’m off with the horse, I suppose you’ll be the fellow who gets to help Bos out. How come you always get to play the hero?” Tom added with only the slightest hint of jealousy.

“Just comes naturally,” Autie laughed. “It will be a good half hour or so before Bos figures out that he’s in trouble.” That will give him a few hours to sweat. Pap will come in from the field about mid-afternoon. He’ll be good and sore when he sees that Bos lost track of one of his customer’s horses.”

“But won’t Pap suspect something?” Tom asked.

“Sure, he will, but he likes a good prank as well as the next fellow.”

“So how do we end things?”

“I think the best prank needs to run full circle,” Autie said. “I’ll help them look for the horse — in all the wrong places, of course.” Both boys laughed.

“While I keep them busy tracking the trail to nowhere, you circle round with the horse. The next part is important. Tie the critter to the door of the outhouse. That’s when he’ll know he’s been had.” Autie was pleased with the plan. He was sure his father and brother would have a good laugh, if not today then years from now.

Tom and Autie pulled their feet from the brook. Each boy took a sock and dried his toes. They pulled their well-worn shoes on and headed back to the garden to reclaim their gardening tools. They’d talk again after dinner and put the final touches on their master plan. For now, the realities of farm life called them to work.

As they turned to head back toward the garden, they heard a noise. It was a soft rustling noise, but far too loud to be a bird or squirrel. Autie groped in the grass for a fallen tree branch to use as a weapon should one be needed. As they moved toward the brush, Autie started poking among the tall weeds with his branch. A young Negro boy darted from his hiding place and jumped into the water. Tom jumped after him and quickly overtook him. The boy did not fight back. Tom dragged him to the river edge.

+ + +

At the edge of the river, the three boys looked each other over. The Negro boy broke the silence. “You gonna turn me in?”

Autie and Tom were still thinking through what was happening.

Tom asked innocently. “Turn you in for what? What did you do?”

Autie punched Tom in the arm. “Tom, he’s a runaway.”

The boys continued to eye one another. All three heard the sound of a steamboat on the river. Autie thought quickly. “Come with us. We got to get you out of sight.”

The boys stooped low and ran away from the River Raisin towards the farmhouse and barn. They didn’t stop until they found shelter in the barn and closed the barn door behind them. Autie pointed toward an empty horse stall and the boys took refuge together behind a second closed door. “You’ll be safe here for now,” Autie said in a hushed voice. All three collapsed into the hay.

“Where are you headed?” Tom ventured.

The Negro boy was still hesitant to speak, but he weighed the facts. These boys had helped him, and he didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

“Canada,” he said. “Freedom. Can’t be far now. I be runnin’ fo’ weeks.”

Sam gasped for breath. He was both scared and excited.

Autie decided to take charge.

“Take it easy. You are safe for now. I’m George Armstrong Custer. This is my brother, Thomas. They call me Autie. They call him Tom. What do they call you.”

“Sam.” His one-syllable name was about all he could manage at the moment.

“Sam, you are indeed close to Canada. Why, if you can swim you are home free.”

“Can’t swim,” Sam admitted.

“We can swim,” Tom piped in. Autie shushed his younger brother. “That won’t help him now, will it, Tom?”

“Where are you running from?” Autie asked.

“Kentucky.”

“That’s horse country.” Tom said with excitement. “Can you ride?”

“Fo’ sure!” Sam said. Sam gained energy and confidence with the opportunity to speak with authority on a topic that clearly interested his newfound friends.

“Work horses mostly, but since I small, Master has me ride the fine horses now and ag’in. I keeps them in shape.”

Autie looked at the slave boy with a peculiar envy. Up until now, he had not given slavery much thought. His father and friends often discussed slavery around the Custer dinner table and at farmers’ meetings, but they seemed to be mostly concerned with farming economics, not the hearts and souls of the enslaved laborers. Autie was face to face with a slave for the first time, a boy near his own age…and this slave had access to the finest horses!

He shook off his irrational envy and returned to the problem at hand.

“Shouldn’t we tell Pap and Ma?” Tom asked.

“Perhaps, perhaps not—at least not yet! Tom, remember that prank we are planning to play on Bos tomorrow?” Tom nodded. “Well, it might work even better with Sam’s help!”

Autie told the boys his plan, working out the details as he went.

Sam would spend the night in the barn. Both Autie and Tom would take some extra food from the dinner table to avoid being noticed.

“See that horse there?” Autie pointed to one of the six in the stalls on the other end of the barn. “That horse’s name is King. He belongs to John Stanford, a rich man, lives on a big farm north of here along the Detroit River. He’s expecting us to return his horse by tomorrow night with new shoes. ”

“It’s my turn to ride the horse home,” Tom reminded him.

“When we go to pull that prank on Boz tomorrow, let’s use Mr. Stanford’s horse.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” The sound of their father’s voice paralyzed them. They looked up at their father’s face looking down over the wall of the stall at the three of them. For once, Autie was speechless.

“What’s going on here,” Emanuel Custer demanded.

Accustomed to obeying orders, Sam was the only one who could speak.

“I Sam, sir. I wants to go North.”

“Where did you run from?”

“Kentucky, sir.”

Emanuel Custer had the same reaction as his younger son.

“That’s horse country. How are my boys planning to help you?”

“Don’t know ’xactly, sir. We jus’ talkin’.”

“Armstrong, tell me what is going on.”

Autie breathed deeply to muster his courage. He rose to his feet in respect for his father.

“Father, we came across Sam by the river. He was hiding in the bushes along the orchard. There were boats coming near enough to see us, so we ducked low and ran for the barn. Other than that, sir, we don’t know much more.”

Emanuel turned to Sam. “How about you fill in the details.”

Sam was practiced at telling his story. He’d told it a dozen times in the last few weeks as he moved from one safe house in the Underground Railroad to another.

“Well, sir,” he started, “a whiles back, some slaves run for freedom. They gets away. That makes all the masters plenty sore, grumblin’ ’bout losing their ’vestments. Houseboy hears Master plannin’ to sell soon as harvest work be over. He wants bes’ dollar to buy new slaves over the winter and get ’em ready for spring plantin’.”

Autie listened. Sam sounded like any number of farmers talking shop with his father. But they were talking about firing and hiring. Sam was talking about buying and selling and it was Sam who was being bought and sold.

Sam continued his story. “Master wants rid of us before we gets thinkin’ ’bout runnin’. But, sir, he too late. We already thinkin’ ’bout runnin’. Off we goes that very night. They be ten of us. We runs together the first few nights, but gets torn apart one way or ’nother. I stays in barns, houses, sheds, caves. Last few days I stays in a fancy house not far from here. Jes’ Mama, my sister, Myra, and me. Mama and Myra stays in the house. I stays in the barn.

“Last night I hear a ruckus. Men bangin’ on the door of the house. They sound angry. I watch from the barn. When one starts my way, I takes off out the back door. I runs to the water. It plenty dark. Can’t swim, but I wades along the edge, hidin’ my trail ’jes likes the others teaches me. Cum sunrise, I see boats on the water. I think bes’ to hide ’til dark. I spends most of the day hidin’ in the bushes. That’s when yo’ boys finds me.”

Emanuel looked the boy over. He guessed he was about twelve years old with a small, sturdy build and clearly no stranger to hard work. His skin was as dark as any he had ever seen. His eyes were as bright as lanterns in the shadows of the barn. His clothes were a bit ragged and appeared to be getting a tad small, but he was clean. The last people to keep him had taken good care of him, he thought. Emanuel saw that he carried nothing with him. “You must be hungry.”

“Yessir,” Sam answered softly.

+ + +

Emanuel Custer quickly assessed the situation he was facing with his sons, Tom and Autie, and a runaway slave boy named Sam.

Emanuel turned to Tom, “Tom, you run and ask your mother for some bread and meat. If she wants to know why, tell her I’m working hard and I am hungry.”

Tom lost no time. He ran out of the barn, stopping only to swing the doors shut and headed straight for the Custer kitchen. Emanuel Custer continued his plan.

“Sam,” he said. “You stay here with my son, Armstrong. But I don’t want you staying here all night. It won’t be safe for you to move around until it gets a bit darker. When it gets to be supper time and everyone is home sitting at their dinner tables—then you can come into the house.” He stopped and thought for a few seconds. “In fact, Autie, wait a bit longer until your brother, Boston, goes to bed. He’s too young to know about this. I will come get you when it is safe.”

Then he turned to Sam. “You’ll be safe in our home.” “Why is that, Pap?” Autie interjected. “Seems to me like the barn would be safer.”

“It would be except for one thing,” his father explained. “We’re Democrats living in Whig territory. I can guess which house in Monroe kept Sam. You can be sure it was a Whig house. They protect runaway Negroes. Most people know it, but nobody talks.”

Emanuel continued. “They don’t talk because this isn’t our battle, Autie. We don’t hold to slavery. But there’s plenty of Democrats that do and we are Democrats. They’ll be sure to help if some Southerner happens along and wants a hand finding a runaway. If anyone comes looking for Sam, they are bound to be Democrats. The Whigs will make excuses. If they are running for office, they might pretend to help so as not to appear to be breaking any laws. But they won’t take looking for Negroes seriously. If any search party stops here you can be sure that they will be Democrats and they won’t hesitate to check the barn, with or without my permission, but they’ll take the word of a fellow Democrat that there are no runaways in our house.”

Autie had just started thinking about politics. He’d spent many a night lying in bed, listening to his father and his friends argue the pet peeves of the prairie farmers at the kitchen table. But the things they talked about had not seemed real. He still thought like a child. There was right and there was wrong and not much in between.

“Father, this is wrong. Sam can’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not what this is about, son. Sam may not want to hurt anyone. But Sam doesn’t have a say. He is a slave boy. He will do as he is told. He’ll do it as a boy and he’ll do it as a man. He’ll do it until one day he is tired of doing it. Pushed hard enough there’s no telling what he’ll do when he grows to be a man. That’s just the way it is.”

Sam sat quietly in the hay, listening awkwardly to the discussion about his future.

“This does not seem right,” Autie muttered.

“Autie, you listen to me.” Emanuel said sternly. “This isn’t our battle. We will not send Sam back into slavery, but all we can do is set him in the right direction. You and Tom keep quiet about this. Keep Boston in the dark. He would be sure to babble.”

With that Emanuel left the barn. He passed Tom on his way back to the barn with the provisions. “Is your mother in the kitchen?” he asked. Tom said “Yes, Pap, she didn’t ask any questions.”

“Thomas, I’ve told Armstrong my plan. You listen to him. Keep quiet. Follow Armstrong’s lead. I’ll go talk to your mother.”

The two continued in opposite directions. Tom looked into the sky. It was late in the afternoon, but there was still plenty of daylight left. He thought for a moment about the chores that were going undone, about the tools he and Autie had left in the fields. Normally, such carelessness would not go unpunished, but Father had said to follow Autie’s lead. That’s what he set out to do.

Autie, Tom, and Sam huddled in an empty horse stall. The walls of the stall gave them a sense of protection. For now, this was their world. Four wooden walls, a pile of straw, a loaf of bread and slab of meat.

The boys quickly became friends. Sam told them all about life on a Kentucky horse plantation. Tom and Autie listened wide-eyed. While they wouldn’t want to be slaves, the thought of being around the finest horses in the world was beyond their imagination. For the next few hours, nothing separated the boys. They were equal—just boys sharing adventures.

As the hot summer air began to stir with the evening breezes, Emanuel Custer appeared again at the barn door carrying a large straw hat.

“It’s suppertime, boys. I’ve talked to your mother. She is prepared to help. She fed Boston early and put him to bed. He went kicking and screaming but he is asleep now. Autie you take Sam with you and head for the house. Don’t run but don’t dawdle. Sam, you go with Autie. Wear this hat low on your head. If anyone passing near sees you, they’ll think it’s just Autie and Tom coming in from the fields. Thomas, you and I are going to wait here a few minutes. We will walk across the farmyard together.”

The plan went well. Soon the three boys were sitting at the kitchen table with Mother and Father Custer and brother Nevin.

When learning of their unexpected guest, Maria Custer had put extra effort into the farmhouse dinner. All ate ravenously. Sam was unaccustomed to eating at the same table with white people but the hours together in the barn had almost made him forget his position. At first, he sat stiffly at the table, his hands in his lap, his head hanging low, not sure how to behave. But with an elbow or two from his new best friends he soon was eating and chattering as if he’d been an honored guest at their table many times. Emanuel and his wife left the table and went together into the family parlor. Together, the boys cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen. Autie and Tom were impressed with Sam’s ability to know just what needed to be done. Then Mother Custer took the boys upstairs.

“First, Sam, you need some new britches. Here are two pairs Autie has outgrown. Try them on.

“Autie and Tom, you sleep in your room like always. We’ve laid some blankets out on the floor in the corner of our room for Sam. Your father thinks our bedroom will be safest place for Sam tonight.”

+ + +

The night passed peacefully, but the household woke before dawn to the clopping sound of an unusual number of horses on the nearby road. Emanuel stood on the farmhouse porch and saw two teams of men riding back and forth in opposite directions, up and down the road, drifting into the neighboring fields.

“Autie, run to the barn and get a horse ready. I’m going to ride out and see what they are looking for.”

“Pap, you know what they are looking for.”

“Hush, Autie, we’ll let them tell us what they know. It pays to be quiet and listen sometimes,” his father rebuked him.

Autie ran to the barn, and saddled one of the workhorses. He took a second saddle and threw it across the back of a second horse. “I’m going with him,” he thought.

Emanuel Custer looked at Autie with a hint of pride as he saw him leading two horses from the barn. His oldest son was growing up.

Emanuel called into the house.

“Maria, Autie and I are riding out to the road to see what’s going on. Keep the children in the house. All the children,” he added.

It was a short ride to the road, just a hundred yards or so.

“Hello, Emanuel,” one rider greeted him by name. “Are you coming to help?”

“That depends on what the job is. What’s the trouble, boys?”

“We’re looking for runaways. Some Southern fellows rode into Monroe yesterday afternoon on the trail of fugitive slaves. A boy was spotted near here yesterday morning. We’re giving our Southern friends a hand. Mind if we check your barn?”

Emanuel turned to Autie. “Son, you just saddled the horses. Did you notice anyone hiding in the barn.”

“Nothing but horses, cows and chickens in the barn, Pap.”

“Well, Emanuel, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll send a couple of men to check the nooks and crannies. These blackies have been running for weeks and know how to hide.”

“Be my guest, check the house, too, if you like.” Autie felt a chill, but quickly found that his father’s judgment was right.

“No need to disturb the ladies and children.”

He shouted orders to a couple of men.

“Check the Custer barn, fellows, and ride back behind the apple trees.”

Autie saw heavy chains dangling from the rider’s saddle horn. Autie’s heart was in his throat. “He’d known Sam for less than a day but he didn’t want to see him hauled away in chains.”

He watched as his Father mounted the spare horse and chatted with the lead horseman.

Emanuel knew all of the men. Autie had seen several of them at the Custer kitchen table late at night, arguing politics. Autie admired his father’s easy way with people, especially how he could befriend anyone, stand firm for his own ideas, and part friends. Autie glanced nervously now and then toward the farmhouse but noticed that each time he did his father made an effort to draw him into the discussion.

“Why, Autie, here, will be finished with school in another year or two.”

“I’ll be! What are you planning on doing after that, young fellow?”

The two men talked with ease and soon the riders returned from the Custer farmyard.

“No sign of any runaways,” they reported.

“Time to move on. You two like to ride with us?” he asked Emanuel and Autie.

“Sorry, we have to shoe some horses for Monroe’s finest today.”

Both men laughed and the search party rode off.

Emanuel and Autie watched for a few minutes. Emanuel did not break his gaze at the men disappearing from view. At last he spoke. “We have to get Sam on his way as soon as possible. Let’s ride around the edge of our property to make sure there are no stragglers—and then get back to the house.”

+ + +

It was still early and not yet fully light. Breakfast was ready when they returned. Tom and Sam were already eating.

“Boston will sleep another hour or so.” Mother Custer said. “What are you planning, Emanuel?”

“They are looking for him. They know he is nearby. We have to get Sam out of here today,” Emanuel explained. “Father, I have an idea.” Autie interjected. “Usually Tom and I ride Mr. Stanford’s horses back to him. It’s about ten miles up the Detroit River. We take along an extra horse and ride double on the way home. But nobody would think anything if we took a wagonload of vegetables into town to leave at the inn and had Mr. Stanford’s horse tied to the back. Sam is small. We could hide him in the wagon tool box. Before we load the vegetables we’ll put together a small raft from scraps of wood in the barn and we’ll put the raft on the bottom of the wagon. We’ll load the vegetables on top of the raft. No one will notice.”

Autie was getting excited as he fleshed out his plan on the fly.

“We’ll take two of our strongest horses to pull the wagon. We’ll drop our load of vegetables off at the inn in Monroe. We’ll make plenty of small talk about having to drive the wagon up the river to deliver Mr. Stanford’s horse and pick up supplies near Detroit. All the while, Sam is in the toolbox and that’s where he’ll stay until we reach Stanford’s place along the river. The side against the wagon wall is loose and out of sight. He’ll have no trouble breathing. We’ll deliver the horse, collect our money and start for home. But when we come close to the big island in the river, we’ll pull off the road for the night.”

All the years of formulating pranks on his brothers were beginning to pay off. The plan was taking shape and Emanuel couldn’t disagree. “This just might work,” he thought.

And so, Sam was given a small parcel with an extra pair of clothes, some food and a jar of water. At the last minute, Mr. Custer handed him the straw hat again. “You might need this,” was all he said in parting.

The toolbox was emptied except for some rope and straps of leather and a couple of blankets. Sam was made as comfortable as possible in his hiding place. Tom had nailed together a makeshift raft from some old barn siding and the two boys placed it in the wagon. Autie and his mother put a few baskets of garden vegetables on top of the raft and the two boys rode off together toward the village of Monroe.

Tom and Autie were never quiet. They talked a bit louder as they rode together to make sure Sam could hear them. The delivery at the inn went just as planned. The boys headed their horses and wagon for the ferry across the River Raisin and the road north toward the frontier city of Detroit. They reached the Stanford estate along the Detroit River in mid-afternoon and delivered the horses in person to Mr. Stanford. Autie collected the fee for shoeing the horses and stood at Mr. Stanford’s writing desk as he wrote out a receipt the way his father had taught him. Mr. Stanford handed Autie and Tom each a silver dollar as a tip for the delivery.

The boys thanked him and hurriedly headed back to their wagon to start the long return trip.

“If you boys want to spend the night in the stable, you are more than welcome,” Mr. Stanford offered.

“No thanks, sir.” Autie answered. “Tom and I want to try to get home tonight.”

+ + +

The boys were able to make better time with an empty wagon and no horse tied to the back. As soon as it started to get dark the boys pulled off the road at a spot close to the Detroit River. They were well north of the Big Island but reckoned that the current would help get their raft to its shore. The boys fashioned a harness for one of the horses from the rope and leather they had brought and attached it to the raft.

Dusk had turned to night. Tom let Sam out of the toolbox. The boys watched by the light of a half moon as he stretched after a full day in the closest of quarters. After Sam was refreshed they pulled the raft to the water’s edge. Autie scavenged along the shore and found a suitable pole to help him guide the raft in the shallower waters.

“We’ll take the toolbox along just in case, Sam. But you are probably safe now. Just don’t move about too much. We don’t want to attract attention. Tom will stay here with the wagon and the other horse. And Tom, I mean it. Stay here. I’ll be going with Sam. I’ll come back and find you. I won’t be in a mood to look for you.”

The toolbox was placed on the center of the raft. Sam sat, leaning against the box and pulled the straw hat Mr. Custer had given him down over his forehead. Autie crawled onto the horse’s back and rode her into the water. Slowly the raft trailed behind. Just as the raft began to float on its own, Tom shouted, “Wait!”

He ran to the raft, getting his shoes wet, and reached toward Sam. “Here, take this, Sam.” Tom placed his new silver dollar in Sam’s palm. “I have a feeling you are going to need this.”

Tom watched as long as they were in sight but it was only a half moon and his brother and his new friend soon disappeared into the darkness. He heard Autie call across the water, “Stay put, Tom.”

Autie steered their horse toward the island, allowing the river’s current to do much of the work. The raft floated close behind. Autie cautioned Sam to use the pole to keep the raft from pushing too close with the current.

Sam, was working hard to overcome his fear of the water. He’d never been in water over his head before. But he grabbed the pole and pulled himself to his knees and reached toward Autie. Autie used one arm to grab the other end of the pole and the two exerted considerable strength to keep the raft from drifting into the horse which was paddling hard across the river’s current. It wasn’t long before the horse’s feet found the shore. As soon as the horse had all four feet on land, Autie took full possession of the pole, jumped on the raft and directed the rickety raft to land. He took the harness off the horse, keeping the other end tied to the raft and secured it to a tree branch. Autie reached for Sam’s hand. It felt cold and clammy.

“You’re scared aren’t you?” Autie asked Sam.

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know where I is, don’t know where I’s going. Surrounded by water and can’t swim.”

Autie laughed with Sam at his sincere appraisal of his lot in life.

The boys sat together on the northern tip of the island. “The horse needs a rest,” Autie explained. He pointed to the distant shore. “See those little lights over there, Sam? Well, that’s freedom. That’s Canada.”

Chills ran up Sam’s spine. He was speechless. “Doesn’t look any different than the shore we just come from,” he commented at last. “But let’s go!”

The boys took the harness off the horse and led the horse a few hundred yards along the shore, allowing it to nibble on the grass as they went. They took turns pulling the raft along the shoreline, poling it back into water whenever it brushed close to land. On the other side of the island they repeated their departure. Sam crawled onto the raft, Autie tied the harness to the horse. He shook Sam’s hand. This might be his last chance to talk to Sam, he thought. Anything could happen as they crossed the wider part of the river. “Here, Sam,” he said in parting. “Tom gave you his dollar. Here’s mine, too.”

“What’s going on here?” The voice sounded like thunder in the night. Both boys looked up. Their instinct was to run, but there was no place to go. Autie couldn’t help but think of Sam’s prophecy. “Surrounded by water and can’t swim.”

The man spoke again. “You running away, boy?” he asked Sam.

Sam said nothing. He took off his hat and stood with his head bowed.

“You can speak, boy. You’re safe with me.” His voice, still forceful, softened in tone.

Both boys were still uncertain. Autie spoke next. “I’m Armstrong Custer, sir. This is my friend, Sam. We’re aiming to cross the river.” Autie’s words surprised him. Two days ago he would not have imagined himself introducing a Negro as his friend, but now the words seemed to come naturally. Sam took note of the word “friend,” too. Autie saw him venture a shy smile.

“You boys will never make it across the rest of this river the way you are going. The current is too strong. Pull that sorry excuse for a raft to shore and come with me.”

The boys did as they were told. The man led them and the horse through the darkness to a large house on the island’s eastern shore.

“We’re on an island here, young men. That makes you safe. Nobody comes on or off this island without us noticing—as you boys just learned.”

He led the boys to a small stable. Autie tied the horse and pitched a few forkfuls of hay into the stall. The man gave him permission to fill a bucket with oats.

He turned to Sam. “You are not the first runaway to pass this way. I find a few near the shore every month or so. You are lucky. You are still breathing.”

He continued talking to Sam, but he turned toward Autie. “You are lucky in another way,” he continued. “You found a friend who wasn’t afraid to get caught with you.”

The compliment confused Autie. He had never considered helping Sam or not helping Sam as a choice. He had just followed his instincts. He said nothing.

Still addressing Sam, the man said, “You can stay with me and my wife for a few days. We will take you with us the next time we have reason to cross the river.

“And as for you, Master Custer, I’ll put you on the first ferry back to the American side of the river tomorrow morning. I don’t suppose you’ll mind leaving your raft. The toolbox is probably more than you can carry, but you can take your horse.”

“Sir, you haven’t told us your name.”

The man answered shortly. “What you don’t know, you can’t tell.”

+ + +

Only then did the boys realize how exhausted they were. The man led them up two flights of stairs to an attic hideaway. The stranger opened the door. Sam rushed in. There, huddled on a small bed in the corner, faces lit by candlelight, were a woman and young girl. “Mama!” Sam cried. “Myra!”

Autie couldn’t believe the luck. Sam had found his mother and sister. They had been brought to this station in the back of a wagon two days ago. The reunion was exciting and exhilarating but the boys were exhausted. Sam fell asleep in his mother’s arms.

The stranger turned to Autie and pointed towards a mattress lying in a corner. Autie dropped onto and tucked his elbow under his head as he talked to the helpful stranger.

“What happens next?” he asked.

“About once a week, more or less as needed, I send a small boat across the river with some farm goods and bring back some supplies. There’s space on the boat that will hold about six men. The runaways are brought here from the mainland to wait for the next supply boat and passage to Canada.”

“Do you just leave them on the shore?” Autie asked.

“No, we have a system. We signal with lanterns. I’ll light as many lanterns as I have runaways. When they are ready to receive, they light three lanterns. No more, no less. I’ll take down my lanterns so they know to be on the lookout. But Master Custer, that’s more than you need to know.”

Nevertheless, he continued. Autie listened with fascination even as his eyelids grew heavy.

“There will be people waiting to help them. Where they go and what they do exactly I can’t tell you. It is the same as I told you. What I don’t know I can’t tell.”

Satisfied that he and Sam were in good hands, Autie drifted off to sleep.

Back on the mainland, Tom spent a restless night not knowing what might have befallen Autie and Sam. His instincts were to go looking for his brother, but he obeyed Autie and stayed put.

Morning came. Tom continued his wait. He was getting hungry now. But he followed Autie’s orders. Tom sat on the wagon bench and looked up and down the road. Several farmers passing by waved to him. Tom waved back. He made sure he looked like he knew what he was doing. When he heard a wagon, he busied himself with the remaining horse. He didn’t want anyone stopping and asking questions he wasn’t sure he knew how to answer. When no one was in sight, Tom sat high on the wagon bench scanning the road in both directions.

Finally he saw a horse approaching ridden by a boy waving widely. Tom couldn’t help himself. He ran as fast as he could toward his brother.

The adventure with Sam was over, but something still haunted young Custer. Sam was the first Negro he had befriended. He liked him and would not have minded being his friend for a long time.

Autie thought back to the political rallies he had often attended with his father. He remembered the long political discourses he had overheard in the Custer kitchen. His father had often defended the South’s right to hold slaves, but faced with a runaway slave boy hiding in his own barn, his father had not hesitated to lead him to freedom—even allowing his own boys to take a risk.

As the boys drove the wagon down the lane into their own farmyard, Autie contented himself in thinking that this would, in all probability, be his only encounter with slavery. His life was about to return to normal. He would never have to think about slavery again.