Mosana - Part XXX

EPISODE 30

It became clear that we had to separate. No one wanted to split up, but we were at risk of being caught if we kept travelling together. We were too many, and we would be easy to spot. Now that bounty hunters were looking for us, we couldn’t keep up with our “slaves-on-the-way-to-the-auction” act.

We had four carts, so we decided to split up four ways. Some of us reshuffled themselves; those that wanted to be with each other, and joined the other person’s cart. I maintained my cart, with Jerome, Tricia, Meg, Mel, and Mr. Fisher. The old man had attached himself to me, and almost adopted me as a daughter. I didn’t know what I did to earn that much affection.

We separated at about a 100 miles to Philadelphia, before an old bridge. The rest in the other carts took to the countryside, while those with me continued on through the bridge. We still had a white man leading us, so that would be to our advantage. As for the rest, the plan was to use the horses and carts for as long as they could till they could use them no more. Sooner or later, it would dawn on somebody that these were actually slaves travelling leisurely through the countryside. When that time came, it would become necessary to abandon the horses and use our legs to run.

That was the last time I saw the rest of them.

The six of us in my cart continued on our way through the main roads. Now that we were just six, instead of twenty-four, we were more confident about going through the towns. The bounty hunters were looking for a troupe of slavs travelling together, and they wouldn’t think twice to look at a white man supposedly leading his slaves to the auction.

We didn’t stay in the towns too long though. We still preferred taking the fields, just so people wouldn’t get a good look at us.

I was laughing with Meg and Mel about something when Jerome gave a warning.

‘Bounty hunters ahead,’ he said in a low growl.

We instantly shut up and kept our heads down. We were going through the woods in an effort to avoid the midday sun when we came upon two men, both black. How Jerome knew they were bounty hunters, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t ready to ask him that now. What was more puzzling was the fact that they were black. I expected bounty hunters to be white supremacists who wanted justice for their fellow white slave owners.

It certainly was satisfying to see that the battle field was at least, even. Each side had defectors from the other side. There were whites fighting for the blacks’ freedom, and there were blacks who had sold their conscience to keep their brothers away from that very freedom. It made bile rise to my throat as I saw those men approach.

As they came nearer, Jerome tipped his hat to them in greeting. But they didn’t return it. They continued to scrutinize us through hardened eyebrows as Jerome maintained the horses at a walk. Then suddenly, one of them spoke.

‘Hold it right there.’

I knew we had all heard the man. But Jerome kept the horses moving like he hadn’t heard.

‘I said, stop!’ the man shouted, and together with his partner, geared his horse in front of us, blocking our way.

‘Is there a problem, gentlemen?’ Jerome asked, calm as a breeze.

I saw the panic on Tricia’s face and sent a signal through my eyes. ‘Calm down!’ Mel gripped her seat and shut her eyes.

Inside me, I prayed. Oh God of mysterious wonders, I don’t know you, but Tricia believes you brought us this far. I’m going to go out on a limb here and believe her. Please take us all the way to Philadelphia. Don’t leave us here to die. Just until Philadelphia, and then you can leave us. Please!

The men faced us on their horses, their suspicions raised. ‘You’re one of the runaway slaves, ain’t ya?’ one of them asked.

When Jerome refused to answer, their suspicions rose higher, along with my panic. After a stare-down, Jerome faked a laugh and responded, ‘You men have got it all wrong now. We’re simply on our way to the auction, that’s all.’

‘The auction?’

‘Yes,’ Jerome replied, somehow managing to plaster a big smile on his face.

‘But you’re on your way to Philadelphia, by the looks of it. This road only leads into the fields, and straight through to the border. If you were on your way to the auction, you’d have known that you just passed one in Maryland… which you just crossed.’

Jerome’s smile died on his face.

‘Surely you can’t be on your way to sell slaves in a free state, can you?’

Oh shit. We’d been caught.

I saw from the corner of my eye, that the other man who had been quiet all along while his friend talked, was slowly raising his gun. I was about to warn Jerome when I heard a shot.

No… two shots.

Had the man been able to raise his gun that quickly and fire before I could warn Jerome? And who was hit?

But I looked again, and saw the horses of the men on the ground, and Jerome gearing our horses up. Faster than I could get the words out, we had sped past the men and their wounded horses and were on our way to safety.

Jerome had shot their horses, and paralysed the only means by which the men could chase us.

It took a while before my heartbeat could slow. When it did, I began to eye Jerome curiously. Who was this guy? It was some ninja stuff he did back there. He even managed to dodge some bullets.

‘Who are you?’ I asked. I suddenly saw Jerome in a new light. Tricia beamed like a new bride as Jerome answered.

‘I’ve had some training,’ Jerome responded.

‘Some training?!’ This guy leveled two horses before I could draw two breaths. He had another thing coming if he thought I was going to believe that he only had some training.

He laughed. ‘I fought in the war of 1812,’ he said, like he expected me to somehow understand. I got the bit about him being in a war though. So I shrieked.

‘A war?’

Tricia picked it from there. ‘The war between Britain and the United States over violations of U.S. maritime rights. Jerome rose to become a sergeant while he was there.’

My face betrayed my awe. So he wasn’t a regular coachman.

‘Why’d you leave? The army, I mean.’

‘I’ve always had a yearning for the simple life. Besides, war isn’t something a man should give all of his youth to. I’ve seen it drown tougher men than I. I didn’t want to wait to be rescued. So I signed out.’

‘Honorary dismissal,’ Tricia chipped in, still shining all the light of her teeth as she spoke. She was enjoying this. Her man was in the limelight.

‘And so you decided to become a what, coachman?’ I didn’t see how a former soldier could transition from shouting commands at people to shouting commands at horses.

‘I did some odd jobs for a while,’ he answered. ‘A lot of odd jobs,’ he added with a twinkle in his eye. My father lost his farm in a gambling debt and I went straight from his house to the army, so there was nothing to inherit when I got back from the war. I have been working for people ever since.’

I was going to ask if he’d ever been married when he grimaced. Tricia picked up on it immediately and asked him what was wrong. He shook his head, but Tricia wouldn’t be fooled.

We later found the wound he had been hiding. Turned out he hadn’t been able to dodge all the bullets that had flown his way.

Jerome was hit.

----------------------------------------------------

He was bleeding by his right side. Tricia affirmed that the bullet had narrowly missed his rib. Thankfully, it had passed right through, only taking a bit of skin with it. Tricia wanted to stop right away and treat his wound, but he made her realise that it would be foolish to stop in the middle of the road. We had to get to a secluded place, away from passers-by.

I agreed with Jerome, and so did the others. I cared about Jerome; he had been instrumental in our escape so far, but we would all die if we were to be caught. Better he bled out some more than get us all killed.

We located one of the stations and lodged there for the night. A station was a safe place for fleeing slaves. It could be identified by a hanging lantern by the door. To be honest, we came upon this station by pure luck. Or maybe it was God… I had to stop thinking this way. Tricia was starting to rub off on me a little bit too much.

A portly mother of three welcomed us. Her husband was out back when we arrived. They didn’t even spare Jerome a second glance. I guess whites were really a part of abolitionism.

When they found out that Jerome was bleeding, the woman of the house tried to help, but Tricia assured her she had it under control. She nursed his wounds from her own medicine bag and only used fresh towels from the house. I thought slyly to myself that she didn’t want another woman’s hands on him. Who knew Tricia could be so protective?

We had dinner, and I played with their last child. It reminded me of Flint, and I tried to push the thoughts away. Early the next morning, we continued on our way. The couple gave us quicker directions to the border, but we had to abandon our horse and cart. We would have to finish the journey on foot.

Somehow, we all agreed unanimously that our journey with the stolen animal had come to an end. We lodged the horse with the couple (I can’t remember their name), and continued on foot with the directions they had provided. The path we were to take had stations along the way where we could break our journey and rest, to avoid getting caught.

We travelled for a total of 11 days in total. Eleven days of running, hiding, crying, praying and hoping. It turned out Tricia’s God really did answer prayers. He had a funny way of doing it though. He never quite did it the way you expected. And He had a bad habit of making you wait for it too. Tricia called it His timing, but I thought God had better start using our clock. His timing was too long, and by the time the answer came, you would already be at your wits end and entirely dependent on Him. Almost like He wanted you to trust Him completely. WIthout a plan B. And that wasn’t something I was used to...

We crossed the border on April 19, 1839. It was in the evening when we arrived, and the sun was just starting to go down. It was the most beautiful sunset of my life. I still remember the laughter of everyone as we held hands and stepped into Pennsylvania. There wasn’t much of a border as in any physical landmarks, but we imagined crossing a line as we stepped through. I remember Tricia, Meg and Mel crying as they danced in the grass. I allowed myself a tear or two. Mr. Fisher even did a little jig.

I watched Jerome and Tricia kiss, and it reminded me of Flint. We could have been here together. We should have been here together.

I looked to his sisters standing beside me and I knew that I had at least done right by them. We hugged each other and I held them as they cried against me. I knew they understood. We all wanted Flint to be there.

I made up my mind there and then. My first agenda would be to find him. I wasn’t going to Canada just yet. That was our dream. But here and now, was mine. I was finally in Pennsylvania.

I was finally free.




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Hey you!

Oh God I’m emotional. This is it guys. This is the end. Or is it? I smell a sequel… We’ll see. Feel free to ask me anything in the comment section, or contact me directly @musings_of_ava on IG. Or send me an email at jlove0847@gmail.com


Next, I’d like to say thank you. For sticking with Mosana thus far. You guys are the best. This started as a way to escape the Corona boredom, but you all have made it into much more.


I regret to mention that I’m shutting this blog down now. What I mean is, there will no longer be updates till further notice. I have a lot on my hands, and it was a struggle to get you to the end of Mosana. I couldn’t disappoint, of course. But this is not the end of The Escape Room, I promise! We’re just going on a little break, till I can bring you another story. Completely free, of course.


Meanwhile, Mosana will go into publishing, (and other great things), while I plot another thriller.


So stay with me. I promise you’ll be the first to know the moment we’re back in business. For now, take my advice: LIVE, LOVE, LAUGH, LEARN.


Till next time,
xoxo,
Ava.


P.S. You deserve this very long chapter, for all the times I posted something very short. ;-)