29 
29 What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life…to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories?
GEORGE ELIOT
The note was delivered shortly after dark by a boy Gant had never seen before. But he recognized Turner’s handwriting all right, so he took the message to the barn right away.
He found Asa putting a swatch of horsehair on the pony he’d whittled for the little girl, Tabitha, while she was ill. As soon as he looked up and saw Gant standing near the door, he handed the doll back to the child, hauled himself to his feet, and walked over to the door.
“You need to go tonight,” Gant said without preface. “Between eleven and midnight. Is everything ready?”
The other nodded. “Everything and everybody. They’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“I know. It’s been hard on them.” A thought struck Gant. “The girl, Tabitha…she’s able to travel now? And Silas?”
“Tabitha is still weak and a little wobbly in the legs, but she’ll be all right to travel. And Silas is itching to leave. I think he’s going to be surprised when he figures out he’s not as strong as he thinks he is yet, but he’s got gumption, that one. He’ll do.”
“Have you talked to him?”
Asa looked at him and shook his head. “There’s been no good time so far.”
“You’d best get it done,” Gant said bluntly. “He should know before you get on the road.”
Asa sighed. “I suppose so.”
“You worried about how he’ll react?”
“A little maybe.”
“He’s young enough. I should think he’d be glad to know he has family.”
“That’s just the thing. He doesn’t know me. I’m not family as far as he’s concerned. I’m a stranger.”
Gant studied him. “You’re going to be on the road together. You won’t be a stranger for long. In fact, this trip should be good for you both. Give you a chance to get to know each other. That’s why you ought to talk to him before you leave. So he’ll know who you are.” Gant stopped and then added, “And so you can quit fretting about it.”
Asa gave another nod. “No doubt you’re right.”
“Sometimes I am.” Gant left him then so he could get the deed over with.
At first Asa kept Silas in the corner of his vision as he began to tell him the strange, mind-boggling story of how they were related. After another moment though, once he sensed that the truth had begun to settle in on the boy, he turned to face him directly.
“As incredible as this must seem to you,” he said, “it’s the truth, and you deserve to hear it. I don’t know much about what might have happened to your mama since the time I last saw her at the plantation, but I can tell you whatever you want to know about the years before that, before you were born.”
The boy’s eyes seemed about to pop. The narrow look of cynicism that usually pinched his features had disappeared, at least for the time being. For now, young Silas was obviously a captive listener to whatever Asa had to tell him.
“You’re sayin’ my mama…she was your sister? You’re the big brother she used to talk about?”
Asa nodded, watching him closely.
“So that makes me—what? What kind of relation to you then?”
“I’m your uncle. Your mama and I had two different fathers but the same mother.”
The boy studied him. “You’re darker than my mama. A lot darker.”
“That’s because your mama’s daddy was a white man.”
“I know that. Doesn’t mean I like the knowing.”
“Even so, it’s true. He was the owner of the plantation where we lived when she was little.” Asa paused. “Ariana never told you about him?”
Silas shook his head. “She never said nothing about him ’cept he wasn’t a very good man and that’s why she ran away from him.”
“Well, now that’s the truth. He wasn’t a good man, especially where his slaves were concerned. He took some kind of sick pleasure in hurting us.”
“So…you were a slave too?”
“I was. But no longer. I’m a free man now, thanks to Captain Gant. There are good white men, son. I’ve known a number of them, and the Captain is one of the best.”
Silas’s face hardened to a sneer. “Right. I s’pose you think he’s your friend.”
Patience, Lord. Give me patience with this boy…
“I know he’s my friend. He took a bullet for me. That’s why he walks the way he does.”
The boy shot him a look of pure skepticism. “He got himself shot because of you?”
“He did. Nearly died as a result of it. So don’t give me no sass. I won’t tolerate unkind words about white men or black. We’re all the same color in God’s eyes.”
The other glanced away, remaining silent for a time. “Mama, she believed in God too,” he finally said.
“I know she did,” Asa said quietly. “We used to talk about Him when she was just a little girl.”
The boy turned to look at him. “She told me that. Told me her grownup brother used to tell her stories about God and Jesus.”
“She remembered that?”
Unexpectedly, Silas’s expression turned softer, even thoughtful. “Yeah, she remembered. She…she thought real high of you, it seemed.”
Asa’s eyes burned. The boy was searching his face as if he were looking for something hidden. Finally he spoke. “So, just say you are my…uncle. What am I supposed to call you now? Uncle or Asa?”
“Best I can recollect, you haven’t called me anything up to now, have you?”
Silas shook his head. “Didn’t seem necessary.”
Asa smiled a little. “Well, then…when it does seem necessary, call me whatever you want to.”
The boy continued to watch him and then finally gave a nod. “I’ll have to think on this, you know.”
“Of course you will. In the meantime, there’s something else you need to know, and our time is short, so I’ll just fill you in. We’re leaving in a couple of hours or so. Do you feel strong enough to travel?”
Silas’s expression brightened. “We’re leaving? About time!” Then he stopped. “You’re going too?”
Asa looked at him. “You didn’t know? Yes, I’m going. Is that acceptable to you?” he said dryly.
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “I reckon it is. It’s not like I need you to go though.”
“I understand,” Asa said, making an effort not to smile. “Still, you won’t mind if I go along? I’ve had a good bit of experience with these trips north.”
Silas studied him. “I s’pose you might be of some help then. But not because I’m still sick. I’m fine.” He paused. “Well then, we’d better tell the people.”
Asa hesitated, thinking. “Why don’t you do that? They’re used to taking their direction from you. I need to talk to the Captain about some things anyway.”
Silas stood up, dusting his hands down the sides of his trousers. “I’ll handle it.”
As Asa walked away, he thought this new nephew of his could most likely handle just about anything that needed handling.
In any event, it promised to be an interesting trip.
Later that night, Gant and Gideon stood watching as the last of the runaways were stowed in the wagons. Turner’s oldest son, as promised, had arrived to help drive.
“You’re sure I shouldn’t go?” Gideon asked for the third time.
Gant shook his head. “No. Silas is used to doing this. He knows the way. He may be young, but he’s smart, and he’s experienced. And I expect Asa can handle himself and just about anything else just fine. No,” he said again, “I need you here. And so does your family.”
Gideon turned to look at him. “Why do you say that? About my family?”
Gant shrugged. “You know the trouble they’ve had. I just think you need to stay put for a while. Besides,” he added, “with Christmas coming soon, I expect to be plenty busy. I’ll need your help.”
Asa walked up just then. “So, looks like we’ll be on our way now.”
Gant nodded. “You’re sure you have everything you need?”
“We’re all set. Even if we weren’t, there’s no more room in the wagons.”
Asa smiled at Gideon. “I’ll miss your company. Maybe next time.”
“I wanted to go this time,” Gideon said, “but the Captain thinks I should stay here for now.”
“And he’s probably right. Don’t worry. There will be other trips.” He shook hands with Gideon and then Gant.
“Have a care, mo chara,” Gant told him.
Asa started off, tossed a wave over his shoulder, and then took off jogging toward the wagons.
“What’s that mean?” Gideon asked.
“What you said to him.”
“Mo chara”? It’s Irish for ‘my friend.’ ”
Gideon looked from Gant to Asa, who was climbing up on the wagon bench in the lead wagon.
“I expect he’s a good man to have as a friend,” he said.
“The best,” Gant replied, meaning it. “They don’t come any better.”