Chapter 16

 

We idled around camp for about an hour before leaving for town. I wanted to talk to Clarence, or at least overhear something concerning the new stranger – preferably about how exactly Gil knew him and why Clara did as well, to a point that it caused her such torrid emotions.

But sticking with Hugh kept me preoccupied with the trivial tasks of running camp, like hauling buckets of water from the creek. I had decided to quickly stow away the Navy pistol along with Edgar’s loaned clothes in my tent, thinking if I were to be seen in public, Roger might as well dress like her true gender for an afternoon.

On a return trip from the creek I saw Walter and Talan helping Cage and the rest of the men give water to the horses. Jasper and Gil were talking over to the side, quietly, casually, all hint of military behavior gone.

I hauled the dripping canvas bucket over to a dark brown Morgan horse and watched as he drank a little. The water was very cold, but I hadn’t seen ice in the creek. Edgar had said it had been a dry but cold winter. For that I was thankful. I couldn’t imagine running the camp trekking through feet of snow.

The horse seemed to have his fill, so I stood brushing my fingers through his black mane. I couldn’t help but focus my hearing on Gil and Jasper's conversation once it found my ears.

"...He has been. I'd like to talk with him. He's from Missouri and is familiar with pro-slavery routes. We've been in correspondence for a while."

"And Mr. Leander?" Gil asked.

"I think he'll come. His correspondence has been postmarked Ashgrove as of late, the past six months at least. Oh, but, I know he's in town; we spoke briefly when we rode in." Jasper sounded enthusiastic. "He prefers his independence, but I'm going to persuade him to help us in this event and continue with us."

"Do that. I'll have you in charge of the affairs in town."

"You're not coming?"

"No, my sister will be along in a while. Clarence and I have a lot of catching up to do."

Jasper’s voice hushed. "What about Hugh?"

"I asked him to stay, but he declined."

"I see." There was a pause then Jasper said, "What if some people in town get suspicious with our… appearance?"

There was another pause, this time more out of confusion than sentiment. Gil answered, "Why would anyone in town have reason to be suspicious of an annual meeting of the vegetarian’s society?"

"Of course."

Gil’s tone changed and he said, "Well, get Mr. Leander. And inform me as to what the Farrier has to say."

"Who's Mr. Leander?" I jumped and spun around to see Talan, who had just spoken the question into my ear.

"Shh!" I hissed. "I don't think Gil wants us eavesdropping."

Talan rolled his eyes. "Probably not, but all this talking and more people showing up is making me nervous. Does Gil just trust the whole world?"

"I don't think so, but let's not ruin the fact that he trusts us." I abandoned my spy mission and pulled Talan over to one of the other horses, by Walter and out of Gil's sight.

I was hoping it would warm up for our trip into town, but even as the sun rose into the settled morning it appeared that my wish would not be granted. Two of the guys – Cage and Benny – rode ahead while the rest of us walked. We were well on our way when my footsteps fell in sync with Jasper's and we became detached from the group. If everyone was telling me the truth, Jasper grew up with Gil, Hugh and Clarence. Surely he knew the underlying story of Clara's sudden outburst in the cabin that morning.

Talking, walking and freezing was better than just walking and freezing. Not to mention that Ashford – Ashgrove – was a little over two miles away, so it would take at least an hour to reach going by foot. I took my chance and spoke to Jasper.

"Clarence and his family," I began. "Gil knows them, doesn't he?" At my question, Walter increased his step slightly behind us. He was talking quietly with Talan and, though he pretended not to be interested, I could tell Walter’s attention had shifted to our conversation.

Jasper contemplated for a moment, looking to me, then ahead. "I don't think I..." He hesitated. "Well, Gil has a better way with words but..." Jasper's jaw was tense and he cast his gaze downward but kept a steady pace. Though youth reflected in his face, I knew Jasper was a man hardened by experience. He took a few moments to collect his thoughts and then, rather to my surprise, launched into a story.

"Before the Ezra’s lived in Ohio, they lived in Virginia. It is a slave state, but the family was rather well known for not owning any slaves or supporting economies based on slave labor. They even secretly took it upon themselves to help runaways, fugitives, from surrounding homesteads."

Jasper kept his steady pace, as if concentrating on his footsteps was the only thing that could keep his story going. "One night, there was a knock on the door. Two runaway slaves, Clarence, just a boy, and his older brother. Of course the Ezra’s offered shelter and all they could give, but they couldn't keep them long. They knew their preacher, who lived on the neighboring farm. The preacher and his son lived alone, but were not suspected like the Ezra’s and could more securely get them to the Ohio state line. But it turns out that the preacher decided to harbor Clarence and his brother for several days – a dangerous idea. A few nights later, the preacher's son turned up on the Ezra’s doorstep in near hysterics." Jasper's voice was still strong but oddly trancelike, as though he had rehearsed the story but never told it out loud. "It was the second night, the preacher’s son had ridden to another farm to take some eggs and other supplies to a family where the mother had fallen ill. When he returned, he found his father, the preacher, and Clarence's older brother hanging from the tree in their front yard. Clarence, having been younger, faster, smaller, whatever the case, had escaped and hid in one of the fields." Jasper paused but soon continued. "The Ezra’s managed to get Clarence to the state line before he was discovered and an abolitionist family took him in. Back on the preacher's farm, it was a simple case. The preacher's son lied to the local constabulary, saying he knew nothing about his father's actions to help fugitives, and they let the boy go. Clara was no more than twelve at the time; Gil was seven or so. Of course, their parents hid nothing from them. Even as children they were involved. The Ezra’s took the preacher's son as their own and sold the farm, moving north into Ohio. Clarence was taken safely into Canada, where he was raised, but he corresponded with the Ezra’s through his years and finally moved to be with them when he was sixteen. That's around the time when I met them in Ohio."

We walked along for a few more minutes when I finally asked, "What happened to the preacher's son?"

Jasper took in a breath and pointed ahead right at the man walking along in the distance in front of us, head down as he read out of a small tattered Bible, breath rising from his form with every exhale. Hugh Henry.

"I don't think he's ever felt like he belongs anywhere after that," Jasper added, quietly. "Even though the Ezra’s took him in as their own, and Gil considers him a brother. He's still searching for something."

There was a stretch where we were quiet then Jasper sighed and completed the tale. "It is but one example in millions the wickedness that is the institution of slavery. I just pray that one day our nation will be one that does not uphold it in its government – or society."

I let out a shaky breath. I didn’t know what else to say, so I said quietly, "Amen."

We walked the rest of the way in silence.