Point of No Return (18 page)

“Are we?” the sneering man replied.

“Yes, we are!”

The reverend held up his hands in appeal to the men. “This isn't the time or place for a debate. I ask only that the men here who abhor the practice of these slave hunters come with me. We must rescue the poor unfortunate who is even now being unwillingly taken back to the South!”

Half the men murmured their consent, while the sneering man and his group grunted and turned away. One muttered something about the reverend getting what he deserved for helping runaways.

After the men had gone, Reverend Andrew gathered the remainder around him. “My guess is they took the Connellsville Road. But there's a girl—the runaway's daughter—who is hiding somewhere in the region. We must scour the area and find her lest she fall into their hands as well!”

With this, Jack stepped forward. “Excuse me, Reverend, but—”

At the sight of Jack the reverend's eyes grew wide. “You! You were in the church!”

“Yes, sir. I know where the girl is. She's with my friend just a couple of miles from here. I came back to find you to—”

“You know where she is? Excellent!” Andrew exclaimed, then turned to the crowd. “Get your horses and wagons and meet me at the church. God help us to stop this horrendous deed!”

With roars of approval, the crowd scattered. Reverend Andrew put his hand on Jack's shoulder. “Well done, son. What's your name?”

“Jack,” he replied.

“It's providential that you came when you did,” he said. “Where is the girl and your friend?”

“At a cemetery a couple of miles from here. The girl said it's where her dad would meet her.”

“Clarence was a smart man to prearrange a meeting place if anything went wrong. Which cemetery? Odyssey has several.”

Jack frowned. He had no idea
which
cemetery it was. Then he remembered: “The girl said that diseased people are buried there.”

“I know the graveyard,” the reverend said with a nod. “Now I need to impose on you further. Run as hard as you can to the girl and your friend, and keep them hidden until I arrive with help. Trust no one.

Clarence didn't tell the slave hunters where his daughter was, but they might be searching for her! Now,
go
, lad!”

The sun was going down by the time Jack reached the graveyard. His side hurt from all the running and he couldn't remember a time when he felt more tired. “Matt?” he called out. “It's me—Jack!”

Silence.

“Don't mess around, Matt,” Jack called out again. A cool breeze blew past, and his skin went goose-pimply. Something was wrong. He crept around the tombstones and wooden grave markers, hoping that they really were just teasing him. He then widened his search to include the surrounding woods up to the road. No sign of them.

“Where
are
you?” he eventually shouted with exasperation.

His voice echoed and came back to him empty.

With no better ideas, Jack slumped down next to a tree by the road. All he could do was wait for Reverend Andrew.

CHAPTER NINE

W
ITH THE SOUND OF THUNDER
, the reverend and about 20 men from Odyssey arrived at the cemetery just as the sun ducked below the horizon. They carried rifles and blazing torches. Jack, with obvious relief, ran out to the road to meet them.

“Well?” Andrew called as he leaped off of his horse.

“They're not here,” Jack said.

“Are you sure?” a man with thick whiskers asked. Then he signaled for some of the men to fan out to search.

“Believe me! I already checked,” Jack said. “They aren't here.”

“That's enough for me,” another man shouted. “Let's go after those blasted slave hunters and show 'em we don't tolerate this kind of thing in Odyssey.”

The men shouted their approval and were yanking at the reins of their horses when another posse raced up and surrounded them. Curses and insults were exchanged between the two groups, and Jack was afraid a fight might break out.

“Hold on, boys,” a lean man shouted from the front of the group as he reined his horse to a stop. He had a star pinned to his gray flannel shirt. “Just what in tarnation do you think you're doing?”

“Slave hunters again, Sheriff. Nabbed a runaway slave and probably his daughter.”

“Sorry, boys, but the law says the slave hunters can take runaways back to their masters. Nothing you or me can do about that.”

“We'll show you what we can do about it!” a large man shouted.

“Whoa now! I won't have it! Not in my territory. You go after those slave hunters and sure as I'm sitting here, there'll be a fight. Somebody'll get hurt or killed. So just put your guns away and go home. No point getting worked up over somebody else's problem. These slaves aren't our business.”

“But my friend might be with them—and he wasn't a slave!” Jack called out.

The sheriff jerked his head around to look at Jack. His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Are you saying they kidnapped somebody?”

Jack shuffled uneasily. “We
think
they took him.”

“Well, I'll be doggoned. Not like them to be kidnapping white boys,” the sheriff said.

“Matt isn't white—” Jack said.

“But he's free,” Reverend Andrew interjected.

“Matt? I don't remember a free black Negro named Matt registering at my office.”

Jack was surprised. “Register at your office? Why would he have to do that?”

“For his own sake. Free blacks are supposed to register so that the slave hunters won't have a right to capture them. Everybody knows that.” The sheriff leaned forward on the front of the saddle. “Did he do that?”

“No,” Jack said. “We didn't know he was supposed to. I mean, where we come from, you don't—”

“That's all that can be done, then,” the sheriff announced. He turned his attention to the crowd of men. “Now I'm going to ask you all
nicely
to go home and forget about this thing. I won't have a pack of vigilantes riding across the countryside shooting or getting shot by the slave hunters. Now, you can go home or spend the night in jail. It's up to you.”

In a tense moment, the sheriff stared down the reverend's posse until, one by one, they yanked their reins and spun their horses toward Odyssey. Reverend Andrew stood alone with Jack.

“Well, Reverend?” the sheriff asked.

“Have it your way, Sheriff,” Andrew said in a cold tone.

The sheriff sighed heavily. “I don't like this business, you know. I don't like it at all.” He loudly clicked his tongue and spurred his horse away. With various grunts and “yahs!” his men followed, leaving a cloud of dust to coat Jack and the reverend.

“That's it?” Jack asked with disbelief. “We're just supposed to sit back and let the slave hunters take Matt?”

Reverend Andrew put his hand on Jack's shoulder. “This thing isn't over yet,” he said with determination.

CHAPTER TEN

M
ATT AND
E
VELINE CRAWLED
beneath a thick bush and watched the clearing where the slave hunters had set up their camp for the night. The hunters had tied their horses to the buckboard wagon's wheels, gathered wood for a fire, and pulled out a tin pot to make what smelled to Matt like meat broth. It made his stomach ache for the food. That's what he wanted more than anything, he thought: to be home for a hot meal and to sleep in his own bed.

The thick brown forest dirt under the tangled branches of the bush was moist and cold. Matt cradled his head in his arms and closed his eyes.

They'd followed the slave hunters for miles. How many miles, Matt didn't know. It was all he could do just to keep up with Eveline, whose speed and energy seemed without limit.
How did I get into this
, he kept asking himself,
and how do I get out of it?
He clung to the hope that Jack was not far behind them with Reverend Andrew or, better yet, Mr. Whittaker. Matt was sorry he'd ever laid eyes on the Imagination Station.

“There's my daddy.” Eveline whispered so softly that, again, Matt almost didn't hear her. He lifted his head and looked. She pointed to an enormous oak tree in the shadows on the edge of the clearing. Clarence was tied tightly to it. He hung his head. Matt couldn't tell if he was sleeping or just too exhausted to sit up straight.

The three slave hunters fixed their meal silently and seemed to be listening for anything in the woods that sounded unusual. Matt guessed that they were worried that someone from Odyssey might follow them. Little could they know they were right. But they were expecting men and horses, not two kids hiding under a bush.

“I don't think anyone's coming,” one of the slave hunters said.

For the first time Matt was able to take a hard look at the men. The one who just spoke was tall and wiry, with a bushy mustache perched under a hooked nose. Even in the firelight, Matt could see he had a dangerous-looking face, with deep lines going every which way like a road map. He had long, thinning, gray hair that sprayed out from under an old, weather-beaten cowboy hat. Eventually Matt picked up that he was named Hank.

“I didn't believe they would. The sheriff would see to that,” said a man named Sonny. He was a round-faced, clean-shaven man in a bowler hat. He pulled a pipe from his waistcoat pocket—its buttons stretched to their limit by his bulk—and settled back against a rock.

The third man was the one Matt was sure he had seen in the basement at Whit's End. He had squinty eyes as if someone had drawn two quarter moons above his cheeks. Thick eyebrows crowned them and splayed out like bird's wings. His face was lean and looked even longer by the way his mouth pushed downward in a permanent frown. He was the boss, which was obvious only because it was what the other two men called him. He grabbed the coffeepot from the fire and poured himself a cup. “We need to take shifts to make sure nobody sneaks up on us tonight,” he said in a hoarse, scratchy voice.

Matt took in the scene and couldn't imagine how to help Clarence. He thought he might be able to sneak around and untie his ropes. But then what? The three slave hunters would quickly catch them again.
What are we going to do?
he wondered.

“You wanna give the chattel some of this soup?” Hank asked.

Boss glanced over at Clarence, then shook his head. “Not sure I'm interested in wasting any good food on him after the trouble he's caused us.”

“You call this good?” Sonny grimaced and threw his tin down playfully.

Hank sniffed indignantly. “You're welcome to eat something else if you have a better offer.”

“Let's just get to Huntsville and we'll have all the offers we want,” Boss said with a chuckle.

“So long as our buck here gets us the reward money we want,” Sonny said.

“How 'bout that, Boss?” Hank asked.

Boss scrubbed his prickly chin and stood up. “Not gonna fetch as much as we expected without the daughter.” He walked over and kicked Clarence's leg.

Clarence stirred and slowly lifted his head with a groan.

Boss kicked him again. “You've robbed us, boy. We were supposed to get you and your daughter and you helped her get away. You're gonna have to pay us the difference—or I reckon you'll have to be punished somehow.”

“You wanna punish him? Give him some of the soup,” Sonny said.

“You want some soup?” Boss asked Clarence. As if on cue, Hank walked over with a tin of the soup and knelt down next to the bound man. “You must be hungry after such a long trip.”

Hank held the tin of soup up to Clarence's mouth. Clarence looked as if he didn't want it.

“Go on. Take some,” Hank said.

Clarence turned his head away.

“Can't you hear, boy? He said to
take some soup
.” Boss kicked Clarence harder.

Clarence shook his head. “No, thank you, sir. I'm not hungry.”

“What? That's not the point. We want you to eat. We want you to be a big, strong buck for your master when we march you in. Now
eat
!”

Hank kicked at Clarence.

“Daddy!” Eveline gasped.

Every muscle in Matt's body tensed as the two men taunted and kicked at Clarence. Sonny sat nearby and laughed at the scene. Matt knew they had to do something, but he couldn't think what. Then he wondered,
What if we could create a diversion?
If he could get the slave hunters away from Clarence, Eveline could untie her father. He turned to Eveline to tell her the plan but didn't get the chance. She scrambled out from under the bushes and raced into the clearing.

“Not again!” Matt groaned.

“Stop it! Stop doing that to my Daddy!” Eveline cried.

The two men, startled by the girl's sudden appearance, swung around. Sonny dropped his pipe.

“No, child!” Clarence shouted as he strained at the ropes.

Hank let out a bark of a laugh. “Well, as I live and breathe! Look, Boss, it's the girl.”

“I see her,” Boss replied. “What are you doing here, my little pickaninny? Come to help your daddy?”

Eveline stood frozen where she was, but her eyes moved quickly from man to man in case one made a move for her.

“Eveline—” Clarence croaked.

“You want me to grab her?” Hank asked.

“Shut up,” Boss snapped. Then he smiled at Eveline. “You wanna help your daddy,
Eveline
? Then give me your hand. Come with us. It'll help him more than anything else you can do.”

Matt realized that this was as much of a diversion as he could have planned himself. He crawled backward, keeping out of sight behind the bush, and then rushed around the edge of the clearing toward the tree to which Clarence was tied. He knew he had little time and ran as fast and as quietly as he could.

“Come on, Eveline,” he heard Boss say.

Through the limbs of the trees, he saw Eveline standing perfectly still by the firelight. Her eyes still darted like a rabbit's who'd been surrounded by wolves. But they also betrayed that she had acted on impulse and didn't know what to do next.