Sam hadn't always had his eye on freedom and he certainly hadn't always thought that running away was the only way to get that freedom. As a boy, working on Reverend Baptiste's small farm with his brother and his mama, life had been just fine. They had had they own small house that Mama kept clean and in order when she wasn't over at the Reverend and Missy Sarah's house, cooking and cleaning and looking after they young'uns. Sam and Manny had done all the extra work, especially the outside work like cleaning the stables and fetching things. They had never had a father. Least not one Sam could ever remember. He had asked his mama once, but she had just hushed him. Now, a grown man, Sam figured either he was sold, or they was sold, or he had just plain run off. It didn't matter much the way of it, the fact of the matter was that he was gone.

But as a boy, Sam ain't think on freedom too much. He had food in his belly, a roof over his head, he and Manny and Mama was treated just fine. There was never any reason or any sense in thinking 'bout leaving. Least not for him. Manny had got bit by the freedom bug early on when Reverend Baptiste had first read them the story of Jonah and the whale. After the story was over, Manny wanted to know how come he had never been on a ship? Reverend Baptiste had said cause he was a slave and was always gone be a slave and there wasn't never going to be a ship for Manny. But anyone who knew Manny should have known better than to tell him what he wasn't gone do. Manny took that as a challenge and became obsessed with ships and sailing and the water. It wasn't a hard thing to do considering they could smell the Potomac outside they window every morning. Whenever they was sent to town to fetch something, Sam would always do the fetching so Manny could talk to the sailors. Manny would hear they stories, store them deep in his heart like Sam did the Word of God, and retell all he had heard in whispers to Sam at night.

Manny started to dream. Sam could have cared less about traveling and leaving. He liked life just the way it was. But if Manny wanted to leave, well, then they was going to think about leaving. They talked to they mama 'bout it and she had told them they would have to buy they own freedom first, so they started saving as much as they possibly could. A little here, a little there. They would take turns doing things for the white men in they town whenever they had extra time like shining shoes and fetching papers... anything to get an extra penny.

They hadn't saved much when Missy Sarah died. Reverend Baptiste, overcome with grief, decided to leave his flock in Virginia... decided to go back home to his family in Georgia... decided to sell his few slaves for the money they would bring. And life as Sam had known it became for the first time ever, uncertain.

Sam barely remembered the auction block. But what he did remember, he remembered in vivid details. The stench of unwashed bodies, acrid fear, and overwhelming grief that permeated the air. It was so bad, Sam would have sworn that for months afterwards that he tasted it on his tongue. His mama had held his and Manny's hands, praying all the while under her tongue. Reverend Baptiste had said he would try and sell them as a family, but Sam had felt his mama's distress in their small cabin every night leading up to the auction. They had, all three of them, slept in the bed together the week before: Mama, Manny, and Sam in the middle.

They were placed in a shed that day—and it was only one day cause Sam and Manny had been sold the very first day—and inspected like cattle. Mama more so than them. Some men had pulled open their mouths to look at their teeth or pinched their arms to see if they were weak, but most seemed to tell on sight that he and Manny were as healthy as could be. It was Mama, they poked and prodded at while Sam and Manny had to look away. He had always wondered what they saw when they took in the thin, small, woman that he had loved fiercely. It was the first time, Sam remembered ever being enraged. He had remembered wondering, when he had first heard the story of Samson, what must have gone through Samson's mind that he could kill so many people and keep on kicking. In that moment, Sam had known. Had he been strong enough he would have grabbed something himself and tore a hole through everybody. Instead, he pushed his anger down deep and tried to ignore what was happening around him. It was an exercise that Sam had now become all too familiar with, this feeling of being cutoff at the knees. What it felt like to stand tall, he just didn't know.

Being at that auction was a moment that lived on in Sam's nightmares in random flashes whenever he had the misfortune of not falling onto his cot exhausted. But mostly the events of that day were like something that had happened to someone else cause it was not a memory Sam liked to pull out and look at with any great detail.

What he did remember was that he, Manny, and Mama were led to an auction block, and Sam remembered still, the faces of the white men smoking cigars, laughing, and drinking as they bid on him and his brother. At first, Sam had thought they had all been bought together. But when they was taken off the stand, and Mama was not, it became quite clear that someone else could and would buy her. And someone else had. When it was time to part, Sam remembered crying, though Manny had sobbed the hardest.

"You always been softer than you should be," his mama had said, brushing at his face and Manny's. If it was one thing Sam wished he could change from that day other than the obvious, it would be the crying. He had cried so hard his last sight of his mama was a blurry one. If he could go back, he wouldn't cry. He would just look at her, take her in so that more than a decade later he would be able to remember more than just how thin and small she was. "I'm just glad," she had started, her own voice breaking. She had pulled them in for a hug, he and Manny each holding her tighter than can be. "You two take care of each other, you hear? Best you can."

"Yes, Mama," they had both said.

"No fightin'. Don't ever look back for me. You make it to freedom, don't come lookin' for me," she had whispered hard in their ears. "Especially you, Sam," she had said, wiping his face. "I know you, you would come back." She turned to Manny. "Don't you let him come back. You ain't the oldest, but you keep an eye on him. I know you feel weak, but when you be weak, then you be strong. Take care—," she had never finished that sentence cause some white man had jerked her away out of they arms and they lives forever. "Don't ever look back for me," she had called out one last time. And through his grief and his rage, the first seeds of running away were planted.

And though the seeds took root, and though they started to grow over the years, it wasn't until Sam and Manny began hearing the hushed name of Caesar in the past year that they had begun making plans. Caesar was a Negro man wanted in twelve states they said. When he showed up, whole plantations were emptied, though Sam and Manny had a hard time believing that. But what they did believe was that he knew his way north, he had never been caught before, and he had never lost a passenger. Caesar had come through they town once before, but Sam and Manny had taken too much time deliberating. It was only when the quilt was gone from Miss Tenny's house that they knew they had made a mistake. They had checked every chance they could get for any sign of the famous conductor. But he had not come back. And now they were on their own.


They had tried to sleep at least for a few hours. The Ohio River was a good two days away, maybe three. This Sam knew from overhearing conversations Molloy had had with other overseers. And that was if you had a horse to carry you. There was a good chance they would be getting no sleep until they reached that body of water, this Sam knew. So he had closed his eyes tightly and tried to will his body to relax. It never happened. And by the way Manny was breathing next to him, it hadn't happened for him either. And now it was time.

He felt Manny reach over and tap a finger lightly on his hand. It had always been their signal to pay attention. Sam didn't move as Manny quietly got up and walked out of the cabin as though he were going to the outhouse. When the door closed shut behind his brother, Sam lifted his body up, and slung their bag onto his stomach. They had slept on it—or rather tried to sleep on it. Everything was in it except for the blanket. It was just too big. Manny had wrapped it tight and found some string. He was going to tie it across his back and they would hope for the best. If they lost it, they lost it.

Sam counted, far as he could which he didn't really think was all that far. So he did it again. And again. And then quietly stood up, bag in hand, and walked out of the cabin. When he got outside, he exhaled, placed a hand over his heart. This was nothing. If he was anxious now, how would he be hours from now when he knew Molloy and the paddy rollers and the dogs was after him?

"Sam." His name carried like a gentle whisper from the cabin next to him.

He had been in the midst of stepping down from the small porch when the sound of his name reached him and he almost fell over sideways. Which was silly. As of right now, he wasn't doing nothing wrong.

"Sam."

Sam turned and lowered his and Manny's freedom bag to the ground. If anyone caught sight of that, they might guess what he and his brother were up to in the middle of the night. Sam walked slowly over to the cabin nearest to the one he had called home for nigh unto ten years. Ole Mose sat on the porch, barely discernible dying embers sitting in the pipe he had in his hand. In the brightness of the night, they could see each other quite clearly.

"How you know it's me?" Sam's voice was small, quiet.

Ole Mose grunted. "Always know it's you Sam. Not that hard." They continued to stare at each other and Sam shifted a bit. Manny was going to be worried. And angry. He wouldn't like that Sam had told Ole Mose they was leaving. But the man had helped them when they first arrived in Kentucky. The least Sam could do was tell him they was leaving. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Old Mose beat him to it. "When I was a boy," Ole Mose said slowly, his voice gravelly and low. "And I found out my ole Massa was gone sell me, I decided to take somethin' from 'im. If I was gone suffer, he was gone suffer too. And all these years I tole myself that when I made it to freedom it was gone be my nesting egg. Gone start me on my way. And here I am, twenty years later, still sittin' on it. I'm not gonna die, still sittin' on it." Ole Mose reached out a hand and Sam, out of reflex, took what he had. A small bag. It jangled. And the sound made Sam flinch even as he realized what he was holding. "Twenty dollars. In gold. Buy you your own farm. Make that lazy brother of yours help you work it."

"Manny's not lazy," Sam said by rote cause he would defend his brother always. And Manny wasn't lazy. But when folks compared them, Manny always seemed the more idle of the two when in actuality he always did exactly what he was supposed to do. But none of that had anything to do with what Ole Mose had said. Twenty dollars? Had he said twenty dollars?

A smile crossed the old man's lips. "You a good man, Sam. Find you a good woman. Have your own. I would tell you to keep all that money to yourself, but I know you, Sam."

Sam again opened his mouth, closed it; his throat so tight with emotion he could barely speak. "Twenty dollars?" Sam's voice was high. The amount of the money just hitting him. This changed... everything. Sam suddenly felt like he was taller, stronger, braver. He wasn't free yet, but now he finally had something. Something of worth. This feeling... it must be what it was like to be born free. If... when he and Manny made it to the other side, the possibilities would be endless.

"My ole Massa searched for years for that money. Years. Well up until the day he died." Bitter humor tinged Ole Mose's voice.

"You coulda bought yoself. Freed yoself." Maybe not right away. But certainly after the man was dead. He and Manny would have done it in a second.

Ole Mose gave a half-shrug. "Some people," he said slowly. "Some people." He stopped again. "I know I said I was thinkin' 'bout my freedom when I took that money, but that's not true. I..." Ole Mose's chin quivered. "Just take it, Sam. Do somethin' with it. And if God is good, and in spite of everythin' I know He is, I'll never see you again in this life."


They didn't sleep. And they didn't talk neither. The five of them, wearing their new cloaks, were sitting with their backs against the wall of the cabin house. Laura was sandwiched between Sol and Gid. Even though both boys were just about her height, both of them lay with their heads on her shoulders. She alternately moved her head from side to side touching them gently. They each had their own fraudulently drafted free papers, tucked in the pockets of their clothes. The papers. Laura had waited to look at them until she came to the cabin. When she had finally read them, she had been confused. The names on the papers were not their own. The owners on the paper were Massa Richard's cousins. But when she had told Papa, he had shaken his head and muttered that Prince was 'too smart for his own good'. She had handed each of her brother's the papers that seemed to be theirs. Gideon had beamed when he slid his papers into a slit in his pants and declared that having a sister who could sew was really just the best thing. He was a sweet boy. She was beginning to see that now.

Papa and Benji were carrying their bags. Laura didn't know when Prince had found the time or how he had procured the food, but Sol and Gid said that the first thing they saw when they got back from working in the coal mine was a bag filled with bread, cheese, and meat. It was enough food to last them a week if they were careful. Papa and Benji had split the food and split the money and Laura pretended not to know that it was just in case they themselves were split up. Cause if they were split up...

Laura bounced her thoughts to a different topic. Annie. Noble. Venture. She hadn't told Annie they were leaving, but she had gotten up early, leaving Missy Adora sleep in her room that morning. She had walked down to the slave quarters to Annie's cabin. She had helped Annie get her small boys dressed and fed that morning, holding their sweet, wiggling bodies against her as tightly as they would allow. And when Ma Dovie had come to collect the boys and walk them to Essie's cabin for watching, Annie had slipped her arm through Laura's and they had walked back to Salis House together. In silence. Laura felt a tear slide down her face. Annie was the closest thing to a sister she had ever had and Noble and Venture were almost like her own babies. She let out a shuddering sigh.

Missy Adora had still been sleep when Laura slid back in her room. But soon they were reading the Psalm of the day and chatting like usual. At least Missy Adora was chatting. Laura wasn't able to say a word. Laura wasn't stupid. Theirs was not a relationship of equals. Not like what she had with Noble and Venture who she could hug and kiss anytime and pop them on their bottoms at other times. But she had known Missy Adora all her life and...

She needed something else to think about. Like Ma Dovie and Essie? Susan and Atlas? Charity, Faith, and Hope? Laura tapped the wall with the back of her head. Prince? Who had avoided her all day so that she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye? She shut that thought down right away.

"It's time." Papa's voice was barely a whisper, but they all got up. "One at a time now. Slowly. A slow slave is 'bout they business. A fast one is in trouble." One by one they slipped out of the cabin, taking care to make sure they weren't seen.

They met up in the far pasture walking swiftly in the darkness. But it was not difficult. The sky was clear and the stars and moon were bright. They would enjoy it while they could, cause when they reached the end of Massa Richard's land, they would be heading straight for the forest.

Laura tried not to think about all, about who, she was leaving behind, but all she had were her thoughts and she was so lost in them she almost missed the figure that was sitting on the fence.

"Lord a mercy," Papa said quietly, coming to a stop as the shape unraveled itself. Prince.

"Prince!" Laura said and surged forward, past Papa, past her brothers, but then stopped at the scowl on Prince's face as his feet hit the ground. "You comin'?"

"I told you I wasn't."

"Then why..."

"Patrollers. Coming from that way." Laura's heart sank. They were out already. It didn't matter none that Massa Richard and Massa Will was gone. "Least that's what I heard. If you walk all the way down, it'll get dicey. Best to cross here."

Papa, Benji, Sol, and Gid reached them in time to hear him. Papa let out a rough exhale, took a step forward, and placed a hand on Prince's shoulder. Laura couldn't stop her own wince when Prince flinched. Prince hated to be touched. By anyone. Except Mama.

"Son," Papa said and Prince flinched again. "I was right outside the cabin when your mama brought you into this world; when she named you Prentiss and Massa Richard changed it to Prince as though you were some kind of... horse." Dog. That's what Papa used to mumble whenever he talked about Prince to Mama. "You slept between us every night til you could walk." His voice was low, and Laura didn't have to see his face to know his gaze was piercing. She did shoot a glance at Prince. Prince was looking away, either unwilling or unable to meet Papa's gaze. "I've always, always, considered you to be my firstborn," Papa said, his voice wavering slightly as his hand hesitantly reached up as though to touch Prince's hair, but then rejected the idea. His hand settled back down on Prince's stiff shoulder. "When you find what you're lookin' for Prentiss, we'll be waitin'." Papa took a step back and then hefted his large body over the fence and disappeared on the other side of the road. Benji took one look at Prince, sniffed, and did the same. Prince rolled his eyes. Had the two of them ever been close before? For the first time, Laura wondered. Cause Prince had always seemed to belong just to her and Mama.

Sol took a step forward. "Thanks for helpin' us, Prince."

Gideon reached out and pressed his hand against Prince's sleeve, ignoring the way Prince almost jerked back. "I like you just fine." And then those two were gone.

Prince folded his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched, his eyes on the ground. Finally, he looked up. "What are you waiting for? You ain't got all night." Laura opened her mouth. "I'm a tell you what I know Annie told you. If you're thinking about staying, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"She didn't say that." Though she had said something similar. Laura took a step closer to her brother. "You make a hole in the kitchen wall so you could listen in?"

Prince looked down at her with such an expression of disgust that if Laura didn't know any better she would think he would be appalled at being called out for being a sneak. When she didn't look away, his scowl turned into a smirk. "Too obvious. Anyone could see me. I just know she would leave if she could. You go on. Life is good for you now, but there's no promise it will be in the future."

"I could just as easily say the same for you."

Prince tilted his head to the side. "Don't you worry about me. I can take care of myself."

She would never not worry about him. Even when he made her madder than a hornet she never forgot that he was her big brother. He was not her friend. He was not her confidant, and quite frankly, she didn't like him half the time. But after Mama died, he was the family member she loved the most. "You don't have to. If you come with us."

"Laura."

"Mama said—,"

"Mama's dead," he said flatly. But Laura wasn't fooled into thinking that her death hadn't bothered him. She had found him sobbing in a corner the day Mama died. "Stop living for a dead woman and live for yourself."

"Prince."

"Laura!" he hissed, disentangling his arms and making his hands into fists. With a deep breath, he took a step forward and in a move, totally uncharacteristic of him, he placed his hands on the sides of her face. Tears slid down her cheeks and she could see them glistening in his own eyes. "Go. And for goodness' sake, don't look back." And then he pulled her in for a very tight, very quick hug before pushing her toward the fence.

She stumbled for a second. "Would you have let Sol and Gid be sold?"

"Laura," he groaned quietly. Then he sighed. "Yes." His answer hung in the air for a second. "But I had already arranged for them to be sold to the Osbornes." Their neighbors. Good people as far as masters were concerned. "Just. Go."

Laura climbed over the fence. Paused. "I love you, Prentiss." Laura hesitated for a quick second, unsure as to why she had used that name. She never called Prince, Prentiss.

She did not wait for his reply because she knew she wouldn't get one.


It became quite clear to Laura, after what felt like days of walking through the Virginia forest but was probably more like five or six hours, that Papa knew this land. Intimately. The paths they walked seemed clear of fallen trees and large rocks and just when thirst seemed like it would swallow her whole, he always knew where to stop and get refreshed. It was after the second time that they stopped that she realized it. Nothing about this was a surprise to him. And just how was that possible? And just how had Mama known that?

She tripped. Fell. Her wrists and knees taking most of her weight. Any other day she would have stayed down, got her breath back in her body. But today or that night rather, she stood back up and brushed at her skirts ignoring the shoots of pain because if she focused on her wrists or her knees, she might also start thinking about her toes. She was sure blisters had formed. Gideon, an hour or so back, had told her it would be better if she took her shoes off and walked barefoot like them, but Laura knew that wasn't so. She never walked around barefoot. Miss Martha hated the sight of toes. Especially slave toes. Laura had worn a pair of shoes every day of her life she could remember. Sturdy shoes. Not ones made of kid and silk like Missy Charlotte and Missy Adora, but black leather shoes that could last for years. At least Laura had once thought so. Now she wasn't so sure. But she still wouldn't take them off. It was far more startling to take them off and step on the grass or dip them in water. If she went barefoot now, it would take mere seconds for the ground to cut up her feet and she would be in a worse condition then. So she kept her shoes on and tried to ignore the wetness in her stockings that came not from sweat but from blood.

The sound of the familiar clear sound of a warbler made Laura stop and reach out for the tree nearest her. Warblers sang at night? But when she looked up, it was just Papa. Whistling.

"Yes?" Benji's voice was low. Laura couldn't see him, but she knew he and the boys weren't that much far ahead.

"You know where to go?" Papa's voice was quiet, just above a whisper.

"Yes," Benji said firmly as he stepped into viewing, Sol and Gid alongside him. It was a clear night, not a cloud in the sky. Laura had no problem making out Papa on her left and her brothers on her right.

"Take Gid and Sol and go." Laura stiffened, forced herself to stand up straight. She had kept up. She may have fallen a few times and she certainly didn't move as fast, but she had never stopped moving unless Papa stopped them.

Benji slid his eyes over to Laura, saying nothing though his question was loud.

"We'll catch up. But you go on." Papa's voice broke no argument.

"Papa," Gid started, taking a step forward.

"Go."

Benji sent her a look that was too familiar. And while Laura could take it from Prince, she never took it from Benji. She made a face back. Benji grabbed the backs of Gid and Sol's cloaks and the three of them took off in the night faster than Laura had ever seen them move before. Well. She had been holding them back.

"Come on," Papa said and motioned for her to move ahead of him.

Shame. Embarrassment. Frustration. Laura fought all of three of the emotions as she moved forward. If they were caught... if something happened... her fault.

"No shame," Papa said, reading her mind like he somehow always managed too. "You wasn't raised for this. You was raised to be a lady."

"Not hardly," Laura spat out as she stomped forward and angrily swiped a hanging branch out of her face.

"It's hard for you now. But it'll be hard for us later. And we'll need you then. Just like you need us now. There's no shame in needin' others, baby girl."

Laura gritted her teeth. He always had an answer. Always kind. Always patient. Always making Laura feel guilty about things she couldn't change. This man was a stranger and yet he acted like he knew her inside and out. "Just tell me where to go. I'll find it by myself."

Papa didn't respond and she wasn't sure he had even heard her when he finally said. "Nothin' on this earth would make me leave my little girl."

Laura grunted and said nothing as together they moved as quick as she could up the small path, Papa just behind her, catching her every time she tripped over something.

When he reached out to grab her again, she started to pull her arm out of his grip. She had not almost fallen that time. "Papa—,"

Instead of loosening his grip, it tightened. The look on his face when she turned to speak, made her freeze. It was a look she had never seen on his face before. Fear. "Listen," his voice was barely a whisper.

But she held her breath, didn't move. And then she heard it. The sound of barking. Dogs.


"How did you know about this place?" Sam whispered to his brother. They were sitting with their backs against a wall in a cellar in the very back where light didn't reach. They had run for miles, and then walked swiftly for miles, and then when the stars started winking out of the sky, realized they needed to find a place to hide during the day. Two darkies travelling in the light of day without a pass would get them sent right back to Massa Charles.

"I remembered it. Molloy loaned me and Abram out to the Langfords three summers ago. Remember?"

"Yeah."

"I caught sight of Mrs. Langford comin' out of here one time."

"Good thinkin', Manny."

"Still cain't believe Ole Mose gave you twenty dollars. Cain't hardly believe he even had twenty dollars," Manny muttered to himself. Sam had told him when he had caught up with him.

"Yeah, God's been good to us, Manny."

Manny grunted. "If we at the Langfords, then we 'bout two day from the Ohio."

"Sounds about right," Sam said slowly. He was tired. Dead tired. But just thinking about the many miles they had left to close between them and the river Jordan sent his heart racing. And he had a hard time sleeping if his heart was racing.

"Two days. And then freedom," Manny said uncharacteristically optimistic. Because they had both seen and heard about slaves crossing the Ohio only to be returned. But Sam wasn't going to dwell on that. Manny closed his eyes and rested his head against Sam's shoulder. Snores followed in seconds. They had agreed to take shifts. Manny would sleep first shift and Sam second. Sam laid his own head back against the wall, yawning so wide it felt like his jaws snapped for a second. It had been a long night to be sure.

Sam cast his thoughts back to only hours earlier, running fast, pushing his body hard. Seemed like he had always pushed his body hard, but there was just something about knowing that this time it was for him and that made it all the while sweeter. He felt his body began to relax, his blood no longer humming. It seemed as good a time as any to pray, to seek God. If there was any time he could use direction it was now.


Sam came awake quickly, but slowly, first unsure of where he was and then feeling a shoot of fear race down his spine. He was on the run. And he had fallen asleep. He sat up straight, looked down, Manny was curled around a bag of potatoes, still snoring. What had woken him?

"Alright, Mama," a small voice called from above. The cellar's covering jerked. For the second time. It was the first time that had awoken him. Sam placed a hand over his brother's mouth and shook him. When Manny turned startled eyes in his direction, he placed a finger over his own mouth, and then the cellar lid lifted. Manny scooted as far back as he could into a dark corner, pulling Sam alongside him. They both pulled their legs in, tucking them tight against themselves. In an effort to keep from moving, Sam dug his fingers into his calves.

Sam, who had been cool, almost cold a few moments ago, felt sweat beginning to emerge all over his body as the white girl walked slowly down the ladder, a basket swinging off of her arm. Had his breathing always been so loud? Sam switched between breathing out of his nose to out of his mouth, not certain which one was quieter. He felt Manny's iron grip on his arm, and knew his skin was bruising. But he didn't move. Don't see us. Lord, don't let her see us.

The girl hummed to herself as she ran her fingers along the jars of preserves tucked on the shelves of the cellar. Each note of whatever song she was thinking about was like a needle in his skin.

Just make it stop, God. Lord, don't let her want anything over here, Lord Jesus.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she made a sound of excitement, grabbed several jars of something, and headed back up the ladder.

When the cellar door closed and they could hear her chattering voice begin to dim, Manny let out a rough breath. "That was... that was... ,"

Sam closed his eyes tight, his fingers still digging into his legs.

"Did you fall asleep?" Manny asked, his voice stiff with accusation in the darkness.

"I didn't mean to." His voice was laced with tight apology. He could have gotten them both caught. Killed.

Manny yawned in response. "The important thing is you woke up in time." Manny's hand gripped Sam's shoulder. "Let it go. I'd rather be in this cellar knowin' you have my back than anyone else."

Sam's shoulders dropped. Manny could sure be a pain, but he always knew the right thing to say when Sam was upset.

"Your turn to sleep anyway." Manny stood up slowly, stretching and yawning again. "I'm goin' to find us somethin' to eat."

Sam woke again, several hours later to Manny's gentle shoving. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Before, little slivers of light had found cracks in the cellar door so that they weren't completely immersed in darkness. Now, Sam could barely see the hand in front of his face.

"Eat this. It's 'bout time to go," Manny said quietly, sliding a jar of something cool in Sam's hands. The top was already off and Sam could smell apples. He stuck his fingers in the jar, sinking his hands into the cold liquid and scooping the small pieces of apple out and into his mouth. He downed the jar fast and then drank the juice that was left in the jar. Manny had a second jar in his hand before his first one hit the ground. "Do you want peppers or beans? Either way it might sit funny on your stomach, but we got maybe two days till we reach the river and we got to eat somethin'." Sam said nothing and reached for what looked like the green beans. "There are some clouds, but the sky is still clear enough to see what we need to see."

"You checked?" Sam asked around his bites of the beans.

"Yeah. I was careful though. Lights are out in the house. Hopefully everyone sleep out there."

Sam finished his quick meal of apples and green beans, which actually didn't feel too bad in his stomach. What felt bad was how much he had to pee.

"You ready, big brother?"

"I'm ready," Sam said, standing slowly and stretching like he had seen Manny do. He reached down and grabbed their bag, started moving stuff around.

"What are you doin'?"

"Stealin'..."

"Boy, you sometimes is crazy. You bet not give them one thing. Not one! Sides, I worked here for them for free."

"They probably paid Massa Charles..."

"Massa Charles work out here? He sweat out here? No. I did. Far as I'm concerned, all these jars mine," Manny hissed across the darkness of the cellar. He grabbed the rolled up blanket that they had not used and began to climb the ladder. Sam stuck his hand in his bag. It wasn't like he was going to give them much. He fingered a few of the coins he and Manny had managed to save up before Ole Mose had given them his money and he placed them in an empty spot on the shelf. He was no thief. Though the thought had him snorting. He supposed in some ways he was a thief. After all, he was stealing himself. He adjusted the bag so that it was out of his way, and then climbed the ladder and into the darkness.

They spent another night running. He should have been more tired, Sam thought, with the wind racing past his face. But there was something on the inside of him, that wouldn't let him rest. Thank the good Lord.

They spent the next morning on the ground of the forest, tucked under a tree. Manny had slipped a few more jars of preserves in Sam's bag, and they feasted on pickled squash. It was not Sam's favorite, but he wasn't hardly going to complain. And with all the energy they had lost running, it had actually tasted better than he had thought.

When it got so dark, the only light was the sliver of moon in the sky, they slid from under the tree and ran again. When they began to smell the water in the air, Sam felt as though his heart just might burst.

"We close," Manny said excitedly, barely panting as he ran alongside him. Sam could see a flash of his teeth in the darkness.

Sam started to reply when he heard a familiar voice call out in the darkness.

"Sam! Manny! That you?"

Sam came to a stop, his heart pounding so hard he almost placed a hand over it in case it tried to leave his chest.

"Oh my God," Manny said from next to him, coming to a stop.

A few feet away, lantern in hand was Molloy, and several other men that Sam recognized as paddy rollers. Horses were standing quietly, nibbling on the grass before them. Sam's eyes darted over to the tents and the men sitting and drinking. He sniffed and smelled the scent of a fire just freshly put out. They had been waiting for them. All of that running with an eye over their shoulder and Molloy had been waiting for them.

"Sam, you come now, ain't nothin' goin' to happen but a lickin'. And it's one you surely deserve. Manny's just gone get a lickin' too. I promise you that." Molloy's promises meant nothing. They had never meant a thing to Sam before he had run, and they sure didn't mean a thing now.

"But if you don't come. I'm gone sell Manny so far down the river you'll never see him again. Don't you make us chase you now, boy." Molloy took a step closer to them, the lantern illuminating his sweaty figure in the distance. "Sam. You come here now. I promise. I won't sell Manny."

Sam swallowed, his mouth laced with fear. No matter what, his brother came first. Always. His stomach clenched with tight pain.

"I'll never forgive you. All that talk about trustin' God and you just give in." Manny's voice was quiet, hard. And just what Sam needed. Only his eyes moved, touching his brother's. And then together they took off at a dead run.

Sam heard Molloy cursing in the distance, heard the gentle neighing of horses alerting Sam to the fact that the chase was about to get more difficult. "Manny," Sam said, reassuring himself that no matter what happened they were in this together.

"We're not goin' back," Manny's voice was low, angry. Sam pushed harder.

"We can't outrun horses," Sam said, even as they flew past trees and hopped over downed branches. Sam had never, in his life moved so fast. He was fairly certain, he would never do so again.

"We don't have to," Manny said, sprinting even faster. Sam moved to catch up with his brother. And then, over the sounds of men yelling and horses running, Sam could hear it, the rushing sound of water. The Ohio.

It had been years since Sam and Manny had learned how to swim, but that didn't stop them as they plunged into the icy river, the cold literally snatching Sam's breath.

"You go in there, you'll drown," Molloy called out, stopping his horse at the river's edge.

Neither Sam nor Manny responded as they waded deeper into the river, both ignoring the stinging needles of cold that pierced through their clothes and found their skin. Sam skidded a few inches, the rush of the current pushing him sideways.

"We can do it, Sam," Manny said just ahead of him, the water at his brother's neck now. There was a fierce determination in his brother's voice the likes of which Sam had never heard before. But they had spent their childhood swimming in the Potomac like fish, preparing for the day when Manny and Sam would take to the waters and become sailors. Until they learned that most sailors couldn't swim and it wasn't a skill needed for sailing. But they needed it now. Lord, how they needed it now. God had prepared them for this moment, years ago, Sam thought as the familiarity of moving in water began to come back. Sam kicked his legs out, swung his arms forward. He would win no races today, not like he had as a child. But that didn't matter, after all, today the race wasn't to the swift, he just needed to get to the other side.

"I know we can," Sam replied to his brother once he got his bearings, even as the current began to pull them further apart.

"Don't think you can hide in Ohio! I'll find you! There's nowhere you can go where I won't find you!"

Sam barely heard Molloy as he braced himself to take a deep breath. "Don't you worry about me. See you on the other side."

"You better," Manny called out, the current having carried him several feet further away. And then he disappeared under the water. And Sam followed.

Sam didn't know how long he took swimming that river. He was certain he had been carried quite a ways downstream from where they originally entered, but he knew Manny had been too, so he wasn't worried. The only important thing was that they made it to the other side. And then suddenly he was there. He didn't bother to walk out of the water. He crawled, cold, soaking wet, more tired than he had ever been in his entire life, but alive. And on the other side.

"Oh, thank God," he said, almost breathlessly.

"I wouldn't thank Him just yet," a quiet voice called from the darkness.


The stark terror that crossed Papa's face was so fleeting, so barely there, that for a moment, Laura wasn't sure she had even seen it.

"Run," Papa growled, his voice reaching far back in his throat and even before the single word was completed, he had taken off, Laura's arm tight in his grip. They moved over rocks, fallen trees, grown plants, and even an animal or two. Her thighs were burning as they moved uphill not slowing their pace in any way, climbing the hill as though they had done it every day.

She had thought she had moved fast before, but an unknown surge of energy hit her and she knew she was moving at a speed unlike any other. Forgotten were the aches and pains from a moment ago. She flew across the Virginia forest like a bird. It also helped that Papa had a hold of her. But he dropped her hand when they crossed a very small, very short bridge, confirming to Laura that Papa knew this land, knew exactly where they were. So why hadn't they run before when Mama was alive and Prince was more amenable?

Maybe it was the fact that she been thinking too much, or maybe her speed had slowed down some. Either way, Laura found herself several feet behind Papa, barely catching sight of him as she ran behind him. She tripped over a log and it was enough to send her flying towards the ground. Hearing barking not too far away, she scrambled onto her knees and looked back. She could hardly swallow as she saw a couple of Massa Will's fine bloodhounds in the distance, their eyes glowing in the dim light making them look like demons that had just escaped from hell.

"Laura!" Papa wasn't bothering to be quiet now.

"Go," Laura said, her voice low, weak, her eyes filling with tears. "Go." The word was like a sob, but still she pushed herself to her feet. It didn't matter that it was a wasted venture. She was Phoebe's daughter. She wouldn't just lay there and let them catch her. She got to her feet, stumbling as she tried to get past her fear and get her feet to move. She would never outrun them now. "Just leave me. Go," she said, even as she began to pick up speed. She could hardly see through the tears that fogged her eyes. She wasn't going to be responsible for Papa getting caught. Not if he could get away. If everyone got away except her it would be worth it. But she didn't know what would await her when they caught up to her. Would she be whipped? She had been slapped before. But she had never been whipped. Sold? Some body part of hers cut off? She fought the urge to vomit.

"Never," Papa said, appearing at her side right out of thin air. He grabbed her arm and jerked her forward. "Run. And don't you look back."

"Papa," Laura whispered frantically, pausing. Was he... did he... she couldn't leave him. The thought of him going back to Salis and her making it to freedom just cause she wasn't fast enough was enough to make her want to find a hole somewhere to crawl up in and die. "Papa."

"Go," he said and gave her a push. And then two of the dogs were on him. She heard growling and the sound of something tearing. The smell of iron, blood filled the air. She ran forward, grabbed a loose branch, but when she turned to help him, it was too late. The dogs were dead and Papa was standing, breathing hard, a bloody knife in his hand. "Girl, if you don't get..."

Laura dropped the stick and ran. This time when Papa caught up with her and grabbed her arm, he didn't let go. They ran, Laura didn't know how far, to a stream where Papa stopped and dunked her in the deepest part before immersing himself. "It'll slow them down a bit," he said as they dragged themselves to the other side of the small stream. "But we still have to move fast. You can do this, Laura."

"I know," Laura growled. Even though she didn't know. But she wouldn't slow down. She didn't know what waited for her if she got caught, but whatever it was, it wasn't good. "They're not goin' to catch us."

"No," Papa said, his voice sounding light. "They not. Now move."

An hour later, Laura and Papa were being very quietly rushed into a space in a floor by a white man that Laura recognized as a minister from the next county over.

The space was small, and when the floor was replaced atop their heads. Dark. It smelled of unwashed bodies and dirt, but Laura wasn't hardly about to complain. It was safe. She was safe. And besides, her own odor was adding nothing to the space. Laura tried to move over to give Papa some room because surely he had to be feeling all kinds of discomfort, but there was nowhere to move.

"Laura? Sit this way," Papa said and helped her maneuver so she sat with her back against his chest. He stretched his legs out with a sigh that fanned her cheek.

"Where are the boys?" Laura asked quietly.

"At a different safe house." He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

Laura said nothing for a moment even though her mind was filled with questions, but when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was, "You came back."

"Course I came back," Papa said simply. "You think I was goin' to leave my baby girl?" Laura didn't say what she was thinking, which was that she might be his by blood, but in many ways that mattered, she wasn't really his.

But he must have heard her silent thoughts. "You're mine. My little girl. Me and my Phoebe's second baby." Cause he considered Prince to be the first. "I still remember the day you were born like it was just yesterday. You came out so quiet Dovie had to slap your bottom twice. And a head full of hair! You my baby girl. You've always been my baby girl." Laura swallowed, looking down at her hands, her jaw clenched in an effort to hold back any emotion. Though why she felt like crying was beyond her. "I know you was only close to Phoebe and Prince... I know it was hard to leave your brother. I know how close you two are."

"Not that close. He was barely even nice," Laura mumbled. And then shivered. Her clothes and her cloak had dried some in their walk to the house, but she was still damp. It was a miserable feeling. But still better than being caught by one of those dogs. "But sometimes," she started quietly. "Sometimes, he would do some very nice things."

"Like what?" Papa asked quietly, running his hands up and down her arms in an effort to get her warmed.

"One time, I was cleanin' in Miss Martha's parlor room and knocked over a vase." She never should have been dusting in that room upset as she was at the time. Annie had just delivered Noble. She had refused to discuss his father during her pregnancy, no matter that Miss Martha kept pressing so that she could try and force Annie to marry. Laura had asked once, but Mama had told her to leave it alone. But when Noble came out with those green eyes and pale skin of his, it became quite clear to everyone at his birth, Mama, Laura, Ma Dovie, and even Prince who had arrived late with water they had sent for an hour ago, who the boy's father was. It had shaken up Laura good. So good, she hadn't been careful. "No one heard it fall except Prince." Laura sniffed, remembering. "I thought he would tell on me for sure, but he didn't. He went and got a bag and scooped up all the pieces. Told me not to say a word. The next day, Massa Richard horsewhipped Massa Logan for breakin' Miss Martha's vase." Papa's hands stopped. "Somehow Prince had made it look like Massa Logan had broken it when he had come home... inebriated the night before." Laura said, recalling Miss Martha's words.

"How?"

"I don't know," Laura said with a small laugh. "Prince has a way of gettin' things done just how he likes and it don't matter if you white or Negro."

"But he was able to get Massa Logan whipped?" Papa asked. She could hear the awe in his voice.

"Yes. Prince hates Massa Logan. Almost more than Annie hates Massa Logan. Three times he's gotten Massa Logan real good."

"When was the next time?"

"Less than a year later, Massa Logan fell down the stairs and broke his leg. He wasn't able to go to Europe with his cousins that summer."

"How you know that was Prince?"

"I saw his face afterwards." Prince had not pushed him. Laura knew that because she had been standing on the stairs one floor above Massa Logan. Prince hadn't even left something on the stairs for Massa Logan to trip over. How Massa Logan fell down those stairs was a mystery to her, but that Prince had had a hand in it wasn't. The small, triumphant humorless grin on his face when he left his hidey hole on the second floor had told her that.

"And the third time?"

"Massa Logan got caught stealin' from Massa Richard and Massa Richard had him whipped again," Laura said quickly. Annie and Laura had holed up in the kitchen snickering at random moments that day while Prince sat at the lone table and devoured the entire peach pie Annie had been forced to bribe him with cause he had caught Noble in the house. He had not been snickering. But there had been a... satisfied feeling in the air around him. His hatred for Massa Logan was the only thing Annie liked about Prince.

"That boy," Papa muttered, but there was a hint of pride in there too. "He's a bit scary."

"Yeah." She didn't want to talk about Prince anymore. Didn't want to think about Annie. It hurt too much. "Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"How come you know where you goin'?"

"Caught that did you?"

"Mmm hmm."

Papa sighed again and since she was sitting so close to him, her body sank in with his. "My pa came from Africa. 'Member that?"

"Yes."

"He was sold to Massa Phineas, Massa Richard's father, soon as he got off the boat." When Papa said no more, she tapped a finger against his knee. "He tried to escape five times. Twice he received the lash. His back," Papa sighed again. She felt him shake his head in sorrow. "The third time they cut off his ear and then branded a letter on his face. An 'R' I think it was. He was a big man, and a hard worker. Massa Phineas wanted him out in them fields."

"What about grandmama?"

"Mama was born at Salis House. She ain't never have a desire to leave. And I had two brothers die there. She ain't want to leave their bodies. She just... couldn't let go."

"But Papa Guy could?"

"Wasn't nothin' he wanted more than to be free," Papa said simply. "Fourth time he was whipped again. Fifth time... fifth time, he took me with him." Papa's voice was real quiet now, barely above a whisper. "When they caught him that time... they had dogs too then. I just... they brought him home in pieces." Laura drew her knees to her chest, holding them tight, and blinking back tears. That could have been her. That could have been her. "I hate dogs, Laura. Hate them."

"Did they punish you?"

"A few lashes. Nothin' serious. I was still a boy. They placed all the blame on Pa."

"You came back for me."

"Course I did." Papa wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezed her tight. "Course I did. For years, I was too scared to try and run again. But. I knew what freedom meant to my pa, so I learned the best ways to escape and tried to help those who was runnin'. Whenever I had to go up north for somethin' I walked these routes, got them branded in my mind. Kept my ears and eyes open in case I ever worked up the nerve to try again."

"But you didn't think you would?"

"No. If Massa Richard had kept on botherin' Phoebe, then we would have gone. But after Prince was born, he left her alone." So. Massa Richard was Prince's father. Not that she hadn't thought so, but now she knew her dislike of him was justified. "Then you were born, and Ben, Sol, and Gid. It didn't make sense to run with small children. Phoebe and I decided that we would only try it if we had too. One of you being sold fell under 'had too'."

"Was it hard?" To try again.

"Yes. Me and God had us some words." He paused. "Dogs got me first. And my pa kept runnin'. I understand why he did. Lord, when they caught him... but... I'll never leave my children. I know I ain't been the best papa to you but it's not cause I didn't want to." Laura had been placed with Missy Adora when she was seven. She had rarely had a reason to go back to the cabin after that. "But everythin's gone change Laura. I promise you that. Everythin's gone change."


"That was some impressive swimmin' you and the other fella did," the speaker said as Sam gaped up at him, trying to catch his breath. And still his heartbeat. He didn't think he had ever been more scared in his life. And that was saying something seeing as he had just swam away from Molloy.

It was a Negro man. No. A Negro boy, Sam realized as the speaker stood up from his squatting position. Thin and shorter than Sam and not yet shaving.

"You plannin' on layin' there all day or what?"

Sam slowly climbed to his feet and felt for his bag. It was still there. Dripping water all down his leg. But still there. He turned and looked back, seeing lights on the other side of the shore in the distance. Molloy and his men.

"If they ain't got no boat, they ain't gone cross right now. But you still best make yoself scarce cause I can promise you they are a comin'."

Sam turned and looked down at the lanky boy talking to him. The boy had on what looked like a sea cap that he had seen sailors wearing growing up, a hat with a wide brim that provided shade from the sun as needed. Except, the more he looked at it, the more he saw that it was different. Not a sea cap then. The boy also had on a coat and a shirt and... a belt with a gun and bullets attached. Sam stared at the gun hard. He had never seen a Negro with a gun. And here this child was with one. He looked at the boy's feet. They were covered in some shoes Sam had never seen before. Looked like unfinished leather or something.

"You done?" The boy, his hands now on his waist stared back at Sam. He might have been young, but his eyes were old. Whoever he was, he wouldn't be easily dismissed.

"I ain't never seen a Negro with a gun."

"I'm sure there's a lot of things you ain't seen. Come on. Let's find the other one."

Sam didn't know why he followed the boy except that the boy seemed to know exactly what he was doing and where he was going. And Sam needed to find Manny.

"My name is Sam," Sam said quietly filling the silence. It seemed the thing to do. But then as soon as Sam had spoken, he realized it was a mistake. From the way the boy moved almost soundlessly and stood only in shadows, Sam knew that now wasn't the time for pleasantries.

"Did I ask you for your name?"

Sam bit his lip but didn't say anything as they made their way further down the shore line. And then there, walking slowly was Manny.

"Manny!" Sam said in whispered excitement. He raised a hand so his brother could see him.

Manny raise a hand in reply and half ran to catch up with Sam and the boy. "We did it, Sam," Manny said, his grin wide and big, even in the night. Sam reached out a hand and Manny ignored it, pulling him into a tight hug. They both laughed quietly.

"Grant it you got far, but you ain't did nothin' yet," the boy said, reminding Sam of his presence before taking something out of his pocket and dragging it across the side of his belt. Fire appeared in his hand at the tip of the match he had lit.

"Who are you?" Manny asked as the boy held the flame up. His eyes went to Sam's face and then to Manny's and then back to Sam's and then back to Manny's. "If you don't get that out of my face," Manny growled. The boy blinked once. Slowly. Before making sure to blow the smoke of the flame in Manny's direction. Manny's jaw tensed, but he said and did nothing.

"Come on. You're holdin' us up and mornin' is right around the corner," the boy finally said and turned away.

"Who..."

Sam shrugged but started to follow. Manny grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Who are you?" Manny's question was harsh, demanding. The boy didn't seem to care.

"You don't get to know my name. But I am the person who is goin' to lead you to a safe place to stay the night if you don't keep slowin' me down."

"You're a conductor?"

The boy ignored Manny, just kept on walking. Sam exchanged a quick look with his brother before following. It wasn't like they had a whole lot of other options.

"He has a gun," Manny whispered.

Sam just nodded. Maybe this was how free Negroes lived, with fancy hats and guns. He didn't know about them shoes though.

They walked quietly for a second before the boy stopped. Whistled in a way that imitated a familiar sounding bird. Then there was a whistle in response and another boy stepped out about the same age as the first boy. This one though...

"That's an Injun," Manny said slowly as the boy stepped further into the moonlight. Sam hadn't ever met an Injun before, but he had seen drawings of them. And even if he hadn't, the long, black hair and the deer skin pants clued him in.

"Let me guess," the Negro boy said slowly, turning to face Manny. "You're the smart one."

Sam bit his lip again. He had never met a Negro with such confidence. And this one a boy. Manny huffed and brought his hands to his forehead. A clear sign he was trying to hold back words. It didn't work. "I don't know who you are. I don't know where you're goin' and I'm not about to trust someone whose voice hasn't changed yet with my life and my brother's."

Sam closed his eyes. Prayed a quick prayer. Why couldn't Manny for once not be so quarrelsome? Sides, the boy might've been young, but his voice had changed. Manny had just said that to get a reaction. Sam watched several emotions cross the boy's face. Irritation. Annoyance. And then finally, reluctant humor. "Fair enough." Without taking his eyes off of Manny's, the boy whistled again. This time the tune was different and this time several people stepped into view. All of them Negroes. All of them clearly slaves. Sam saw a man, a woman, two children and a baby on one side. And then two men and one woman on the other side. "We crossed by boat. It was a whole heck of a lot easier. And now we're headed to a station. You're welcome to come. Or you can stay here. I don't care," the boy said.

Sam and Manny exchanged looks. It sounded right. But the boy could still be leading them right back to paddy rollers.

"He brung us this far," one of the men said, his voice low. "From near abouts Lexington."

The boy turned away and started talking to his Indian companion, the words rolling off his tongue not at all familiar to Sam. Sam turned to Manny. "What's our other option?" Manny's lips twisted to the side.

"What's that gun for?" Manny called out.

"Slaves who talk too much," the boy answered not missing a beat of his conversation with the Indian.

Manny shook his head. "I don't like him."

"What's our other option?" Sam asked again, making Manny meet his gaze.

"First sign of trouble, we leave."

"Fine."

"You two girls done talkin' yet?" the boy asked, his hands on his waist.

"I'm a kill him," Manny muttered under his breath.

Sam sighed.

"Let's go."

They walked for miles, keeping to the dark and just off the side of the road. Not hurrying, but not stopping. It gave Sam plenty of time to look over the other escaped slaves. The family looked young. The man and woman didn't seem much older than Sam and the children were small. Sam wondered where they had come from and what had made them leave. Had they been about to be separated? Or just tired of being a slave? He glanced over at the other three adult slaves. They looked older. But it was hard to tell sometimes, the approximate age of a slave. Working sun up to sun down under harsh conditions was hard on a body. But the way the three of them seemed to walk in each other's space let Sam know they were close. They probably came from the same plantation. And they didn't seem to speak to anyone else except themselves. And whatever they said was said quietly. In fact, if anyone spoke, they spoke quietly. Sam noticed that even the baby was quiet.

"Laudanum," the boy with the gun said after the third time Sam looked over at the baby. "Keeps 'em quiet."

"Where you from?" Sam asked, hoping it was a question that would get an answer. He had always been very curious, but there was something about this boy...

"Indian Territory."

Sam should have figured that. "You was born free?"

"Why you so full of questions?"

Sam quieted. Thought. "Guess I want to know what to look for and what to look out for."

The boy said nothing. At first. "Not born free. Escaped. As to what to look for and look out for... well that depends on where you're goin'."

"You mean like up north?"

"Yep. North parts of America. Or Canada. Or out West like me."

"You're far from home aren't you?"

"I surely am."

Sam waited for the boy to elaborate but he didn't. "And you help slaves escape?"

"We all got us a callin'."

"Where is yo mama?" Manny asked, jumping into the conversation. Sam fought the urge to ream him one. Couldn't he tell when someone had to be won over with honey rather than vinegar? "She know you out here?"

The boy sighed deeply. "My mama is where yo mama is."

"I don't know where my mama is," Manny said indignantly.

"Exactly."

Manny thought on that for a second. "How much further we got to go?"

The boy pointed to a sign in the distance. "What's that sign say?"

"I'm a slave, fool. I cain't read."

The boy let out a small huff of air. "Not much further. Less than a mile."

"How did you learn how to read?" Sam asked the boy when Manny was quiet for longer than two minutes.

"So many questions, so many questions," the boy muttered to himself.

Sam figured that was all the answer he was going to get. Especially when the Indian boy, who Sam had lost track of miles ago, took a step out from behind a tree and came to stand in front of the Negro boy. They exchanged rapid conversation mixed with hand signals before each giving the other a tense nod.

Then the Negro boy waved everyone forward. "Not all of ya'll can fit at the station I had picked out. We gone have to split you up. You five," the boy said, pointing to the quiet family. "Go with my friend here," the boy said with a nod towards the Indian. "I'll take the rest of ya'll this way," the boy said with a nod in the opposite direction. In moments, the Indian was gone and so was the small family leaving Sam, Manny, the boy, and the three older slaves.

"Where did you meet an Indian?"

For once, Sam thought, Manny had asked a worthwhile question.

"Knox ain't no Indian. Least not full blooded," the boy said with a shake of his head. "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots," he said just loud enough for only Manny and Sam to overhear. And that was when Sam realized it, the boy was enjoying himself.

"But—,"

"Use all the senses God gave you before you jump to conclusions," the boy said. He gave a nod towards Sam. "There. That's some advice. You want to stay free, you cain't afford to be stupid."

But the boy had looked Indian. Or had he only looked like what Sam thought an Indian should look like? But together the two boys had spoken a language unfamiliar to Sam. But that didn't mean it was an Indian language.

Sam said nothing more as the boy quietly led them in the direction that he had indicated. They slowly climbed up a hill alongside the road. They had almost reached the top when the boy stopped, held up a hand.

"What—,"

He cut off Manny's voice with a sharp wave and then crouched down. Sam, Manny, and the three other escaping slaves got down.

"Listen," the boy said, and Sam closed his eyes. Listened. He heard men talking, low voices, horses neighing. But he saw no lights, nothing to indicate that people were there, just over the crest of the hill. If they had kept going, they eventually would have seen them, but the paddy rollers would have caught sight of them too. "Bounty hunters," the boy said, his voice low, his face serious. Gone was the humor that had danced along his face just moments ago. The boy reached into his side and pulled out his gun, holding it like it was an extension of his arm. "We need to get past them and we need a distraction," he said, not taking his eyes off of the area where it sounded like the bounty hunters were. "If I know them, they're tucked right at the base of the bottom of the hill. We keep goin' that way, they're gonna catch us." Sam exchanged a quick glance with Manny. They weren't going to catch them. But an adversarial tension, so real and so thick was now amongst them. Sam watched the other three slaves exchanging quick glances and he knew if it came down to him and Manny verses them they would choose themselves. Sam couldn't hardly blame them for that kind of thinking. But it wasn't going to get them all to the station.

"Safety is that way," the boy said, pointing in a direction with his hand. "You head in that direction, you'll pass three houses before you reach the station. It's a house with two lanterns lit. One upstairs and one downstairs. You knock on the door and tell them you're Caesar's package."

Caesar? Sam shot a glance to Manny whose eyes were already wide with disbelief.

"They'll take you in and hide you. Got it? It's not even half a mile in that direction, you can't miss it. I'll stay and cause a disruption so they don't catch you."

"What happens if they catch you?" Sam asked, quietly, not at all comfortable with leaving the boy out here with paddy rollers or bounty hunters or whatever the men were called who wanted to clap him back in chains... even if he did look like he could handle himself. Even if he was Caesar who had led so many slaves to freedom. Though Sam had doubts. Caesar had been rescuing slaves for at least two years and the boy looked already looked young. He couldn't imagine him two years ago.

"They won't," the boy said calmly and with a self-assurance Sam had never come across before. "Ya'll need to go, now. Keep on walkin' in this direction, keep to the trees, but I'll make sure they don't see you."

"Would it be easier if you had help?" Sam found himself asking, unsure why. Except it had never been in him not to help someone who was in trouble. Especially if someone might be in trouble on his behalf. And. He didn't trust the other escaped slaves not to do something to get him and Manny caught while they made it on to safety. The distraction needed to be big, so big that they weren't thinking about him and Manny.

"No," Manny said firmly. He clearly wasn't picking up on the tension. Or maybe he was.

The boy took his gaze off of the direction of bounty hunters and placed it on Sam. Surprise written in his eyes. "It would."

"Then I'll stay. Manny, you go."

"Sam. You idiot," Manny hissed. It was the right thing to do, Sam thought. He felt that reassuring settling peace that God always gave him right before making a decision.

"We don't have time for arguments," the boy said, his voice low.

"Go. Manny. I got a peace on this." Manny growled low. "Go on. And don't volunteer to stay. No sense in both of us bein' out here," Sam said and handed his brother his bag with all of their belongings. They had had this discussion before. There wasn't any point in having it again. When Sam had a peace about something, his mind was unmovable. Manny's mouth tightened.

"If he gets taken..."

"He won't. Caesar has never lost cargo," the boy said confidently about presumably, himself.

"Caesar," Manny muttered bitterly, even as he began to move. "I don't like you right now, Sam."

"Be careful, Manny," Sam whispered and shot his eyes toward the other slaves. Manny gave a slow blink. He knew then, that the other slaves were not to be trusted. They exchanged quick nods and then Manny and the other slaves were gone.

When the boy and Sam were sure they were gone, the boy turned to Sam. "Just how fast can you run, Sam?"


They crossed the Ohio River in a boat.

"I've never seen water like this," Gid said softly as he dipped his fingers into the river, letting the current push them this way and that.

"You've never seen water period," Benji responded firmly. Laura and Papa had spent the night in that small cramped, stinky cellar. Or rather the morning. They had only, a few hours ago, reunited with Benji, Sol, and Gid at another house or station as Papa referred to it. Now, a quiet white man, who had mysteriously appeared at the tip of the Ohio River with a boat, was paddling at the back of the boat while Papa was paddling at the front, taking them to freedom. Freedom. Laura could hardly imagine it. In some ways, in many ways, she had always been freer than her brothers, than Papa. It was confusing to think about what would change, what wouldn't change.

"How could I have never seen water before, Benji? You need water to live!" There was outrage in Gideon's low voice. Laura grunted. Apparently, it wasn't only her who found Benji to be more than an irritation. What had she done, she wondered, that God had given her not one but two brothers who thought they knew better than anyone else?

"Boys." Papa only said the one word, but there was much command in there. Be quiet. They weren't safe yet.

Laura placed a hand on Gid's shoulder and squeezed before looking over the side of the boat. She too had never seen water quite like this. She had seen the Potomac. She had travelled with Missy Adora, Miss Charlotte, and Miss Martha up and down Virginia for family parties and shopping—in carriages, in trains, and even on boats. But nothing like this. Never so low on the water like this. The wrong wave would send them all careening into the water and Laura didn't know about her brothers and Papa, but she couldn't swim a lick. A gust of wind hit her and she shivered and then caught a faint whiff of herself. She was still slightly damp from the night before, probably muddy, her feet had reached such levels of pain and squishiness that every step made her flinch, certainly she had sweated profusely... she wanted desperately out of these clothes. What she could do with a warm basin of water.

They made it to the other side with no problems.

"Be safe now," the white man said quietly, and using an oar, pushed himself back into the river once the five of them had gotten out. Laura looked over at Papa. She had underestimated him. Clearly. There was so much he had planned to get them here... to get them to wherever it is they were going.

"Where to now, Papa?" Benji asked. That was the question. New York? Philadelphia? Canada? Laura exhaled a breath that formed into a small cloud. She couldn't imagine living in a place that was colder than this.

"A house with two lanterns. One in the top window and one in the bottom. We don't have to run, but ya'll do need to keep quiet. I got the directions right up here," Papa said, tapping his head.

"How much further?" the question slipped out before Laura could catch it. But. Well. They already knew she was the weakest one on this journey.

"If you had ever left Salis House, you wouldn't be askin' that question," Benji muttered softly but just loud enough for her to hear.

"I have left Salis House, thank you very much. I've seen more of the world than you ever have or ever will," Laura snapped back. She was also very tired of him. He hadn't said a word to her once they met up again. Just made sure that every time their eyes met, she saw his look of disdain.

"Benjamin and Laura Altan." Papa's voice was hard.

"Sorry, Papa," Laura said quietly. Benji repeated the same.

Papa eyed the both of them and then sighed. "I think it's best that we split up. Paddy rollers still out here, too." Then he pulled them into the trees and went over the directions to the house several times. Laura did her best to focus, to close her eyes and picture the road, to open her eyes and search the sky for the drinking gourd and make out the North Star. She did her best to ignore the memory of being little and Prince telling her she had the worse sense of direction of anyone he had ever met after she had gotten lost taking a note from Massa Will to one of the salt mine overseers. On Salis Plantation.

"Benji, you and Laura will go east. Me and the boys will go west."

Laura stopped looking at the sky to look at Papa. But his expression was unyielding. Benji said nothing, but she heard his foot slide across the dirt in front of him. "I expect to see the both of you at the station. Be careful. Take your time. Ain't no rush." Laura puffed out her cheeks in frustration like Missy Adora was prone to doing, but said nothing. "Let's go." Papa motioned to Sol and Gid. Gid turned back and gave Laura a look of pity before disappearing into the trees.

Benji sighed, loud and clear. "Come on. I bet you don't even know which way is east."

Laura closed her eyes, exhaled, but followed Benji east. They paralleled the road, but moved slowly through the hilly woods.

"Can you move any faster?" Benji's voice was quiet, stubborn.

"Obviously, not," Laura stated calmly. She could move faster, if there was the proper motivation. Like Papa being with them. "Papa said we didn't have to hurry."

"That don't mean I want to be in these woods any longer than I got to." Neither did she. She was betting she wanted out of the woods more than he. He was probably used to the pungent scent of his body odor. Unfortunately, Laura was getting used to it too.

"How about you just focus on gettin' us there?"

"You think you know everythin'," he muttered under his breath as he stepped over a fallen tree.

"Do I know more than you? Yes."

Benji stopped, turned, and stared at her. "Why you even come?"

Laura blinked back the hurt of his question but met his gaze full-on. "How is my comin' botherin' you?"

"You're slowin' us down. You almost got Pa taken or killed."

"But that didn't happen, did it?" Laura said, fighting down her own shame at the truth of his words.

"You had a good life at Salis."

"Obviously—,"

"Obviously," he mocked. He turned and kept going forward. "You and Prince, livin' the good life up at the Big House while me and Pa and the boys worked our fingers to the bone."

"Please, Benji, tell me how you really feel..." Laura muttered under her breath as she took her time climbing over fallen trees. Now that safety wasn't that far up ahead, she felt every muscle in her body that she had used running in the woods the night before.

"Don't know how you gone be any help up north. You ain't got no real skills." She was going to throw something at him. "Least Annie could cook. What you gone do? Make me a pretty dress?"

Laura rolled her eyes, but didn't respond. Truth of the matter was, if they was moving to a big city, she was the only one with skills that would survive. But she just let him go on, complaining. He seemed to be in love with the sound of his own voice.

"And then you think that just cause you can read that you better than us. But guess what, Laura? I can read to. Mama taught us. She worked up at the Big House, but still found time to come be with us. But naw. You and Prince—,"

"Hush up," Laura said, slowing down.

"No. I won't hush up. You can't tell me—,"

"I hear someone."

Benji hushed, and instantly crouched down low to the ground. Laura copied him. First, she heard nothing, and then she heard the sound that had caught her attention. The shaking of the reins on a horse. There was a cough, and low, quiet voices.

Laura crawled forward so that she and Benji were just inches apart. He didn't move and she could see that he was holding his breath. Then he held up a hand, raising fingers slowly. He was counting. And then he stopped, shook his head.

He wrapped a strong hand around her arm and pulled her close, his lips on her ear. "We gone have to go back. They done blocked off the route Pa gave me."

Laura closed her eyes in frustration. It wasn't ideal. But it was better than being caught.

And then one of the paddy rollers shouted. "Hey! There one is! Get 'em boys!"

Laura leaned forward and watched in amazement as a man, he had to be an escaping slave, appeared from the other side of the woods, running across the open field toward them and disappearing into the woods just ahead of them.

"Why did he just do that?" Benji asked from next to her. "That has to be the dumbest thing I've ever seen."

"The horses! The horses!"

Laura stared as another Negro man on a horse took off down the road in the opposite direction, leading several other horses by their reins, behind him.

"Run," Benji said and stood up quickly, dragging Laura with him. Pushing aside pains, aches, and all-around uncomfortableness, Laura ran behind Benji in the direction of the house. No one saw them or paid them any mind. The paddy rollers were too busy either chasing the one slave or going after the horses. Then she heard a boom in the distance. A gunshot.

But they kept on running, her and Benji toward the house Papa promised was just past this hill.

"Get down!" Laura heard an unfamiliar voice order and paused.

"Benji," she whispered and her brother stopped, throwing her a fierce look.

Behind her, from the ground under a thickly fallen log, appeared a head. It was the slave who had started the raucous in the beginning. "There's three of 'em there just over the ridge. Come," he said and waved them back. Laura looked to Benji who was staring hard at the man. And then the low hum of male voices filled the air and Laura saw a lantern light up a few feet away. She ran back to the slave. His arm was already out, and he pulled her into the hole and under the tree. She heard Benji scrambling in just behind her. It was a tight fit under the log and into the ground. She scooted in close, but apparently not close enough for she felt an arm wrap around her waist and pull her further in to make more room for Benji to fit. In seconds she was pressed up against an unfamiliar male chest. A chest that smelled like it could have used a bath days ago. She could only imagine what she smelled like to him.

"What—,"

"Shh," the slave told Benji. And Benji hushed as men spoke just above them.

Even though there was no way that they could hear her breathing, Laura held her breath as the paddy rollers walked near their location.

"They was just here..."

"Should have brought the dogs..."

The hand on Laura's back slipped to her waist, tightening in a protective manner.

Another gunshot rang in the distance.

"What in the world..."

"He could be anywhere, but the horses..."

Laura exhaled quietly as the men seemed to wander further and further away from where they were hidden. And then she heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing and that of her brother's and the other slave.

"Should I check?" Benji whispered quietly.

"No. The boy I was with, the one who stole the horses, said he'll come to me when the coast is clear." The slave's voice was low, and deep. Laura couldn't tell how old he was.

"Ya'll did that on purpose? You runnin' across the fields?"

"Yeah. Had to give the others a chance to make it." The words were very simply said, but Laura felt like she learned a world of information about the man holding her.

"You sure the boy you was with didn't caught?" Benji asked after a moment.

"Not sure at all. But the boy seemed confident enough."

"The boy?" Benji's questions kept coming though Laura wasn't sure why. The man had helped them when he hadn't needed to.

"He's a conductor for the railroad. He calls himself Caesar." Laura bit her lip to keep from making any noise. She had heard of someone named Caesar but only in snatches of conversations here and there. She didn't know much about him except that he was wanted dead or alive.

Benji went silent for a moment. "How many of ya'll is it?

"Three others and my brother." The man paused for a second, his hand lifting off Laura's waist. "Is this your wife?"

Laura snorted softly while Benji said, "Lord, no. My sister." The man's hand returned to her waist, but this time it was light and loose as if there was just no other place for it to go. "I'm Sam. From Kentucky," the man said softly.

"I'm Benjamin. That's Laura. We from Salis House of Virginia."

In spite of the fact that she was partially underground and laying up next to a man she had never met, Laura found her eyes fluttering. She couldn't remember the last time she had laid on someone's chest. The up and down motion, and the small sound of a beating heart, was putting her to sleep.

"You talk much, Miss Laura?"

"You don't have to call her that," Benji whispered. "She's just Laura."

"I talk plenty," Laura said, her eyes closed.

"Where'd your brother and the others run off too?" Benji asked, but then quieted when they heard some rustling from above. Laura became instantly alert, lifting her head off of Sam's chest.

"Shh," he whispered, and gently pushed her back down onto his chest as though she were a child. There was something so comforting in the gesture. Maybe he was old... around Papa's age. She would have shuddered except the moment called for stillness.

And then there was a low voice. "Sam?"

"It's the boy," Sam whispered. Laura noted that he did not call the boy, Caesar. "Yes," he said louder.

"Come on out. We ain't got much time, and we got to hurry." Benji crawled out first. "Who are you?" Caesar asked, sounding completely surprised.

When she made to get out, Sam pushed her down gently and crawled over her. "They was runnin', too."

"They? Well ain't this a busy night."

Sam reached back into the hole, and Laura grabbed his hand. He hauled her out from under the log easily, like she weighed nothing at all.

She looked at the man holding her hand, but his features were not clear in the dark. That said, she realized he was young. About Prince's age. And he was still holding her hand. She pulled away and ran her hands over her dirty, dirt-filled cloak.

"Come on."

She looked over at the speaker. Caesar. And she could see Sam had been right to call him a boy. She had assumed he would be older. But he wasn't. He was maybe a year or so younger than Benji.

"My pa gave us clear directions for a safe house," Benji said, shaking his head. "Laura and me got to go there."

"Only one safe house in this direction," the boy said. "So, we gone stand here all day and chit chat or actually make it to safety?"

The four of them started out for the last little bit of the journey, Benji and Caesar up ahead while Sam matched his pace to Laura's. He didn't say anything, but if she seemed like she needed help climbing over something with her skirts, he would hold out a hand in silent offering. Laura had always prided herself on never being foolish. She took it. He didn't scold, he didn't advise, he didn't rush her, he was just there.

After all of that, it didn't take long to get to the station. And before Laura knew it, they were standing at the house with the two lanterns. "Wait here," Caesar whispered.

"I can come with," Benji offered.

"Or, you could wait here."

The boy didn't wait around to argue with Benji but ran towards the house. It was not a small house, but neither was it anywhere near the size of Salis House. He knocked three times on the front door, it opened and he went in.

"He's a bit um..."

"Belligerent," Laura supplied with an exhale. Sleep was just a few feet away. Thank the good Lord in heaven.

"Belligerent?" Sam repeated slowly, sounding confused.

"House slave," Benji muttered under his breath as though it were a disease and not a position. Laura made a face at him that he pretended not to see.

"Oh," Sam said, his one word filled with understanding.

What he understood, Laura didn't know.

"You not a house slave?" Sam asked Benji.

"No."

"He works in a smithy. He hardly out in the fields," Laura snapped back. Benji grunted.

"I was out in the fields," Sam said nonchalantly.

"Cotton?" Benji asked quietly as though he knew. Laura rolled her eyes. Benji knew as much about cotton as she knew about speaking French.

"Tobacco."

Laura turned to look at Sam. And it wasn't hard to do since he was standing barely a foot away from her. He was not quite as tall as Papa but taller than Benji. And he was slim, but not thin. He turned and looked at her. She could feel his silent question in the air and she scrambled for something to ask.

"You said you ran with your brother?"

"Yes. He should be here already."

"We ran with our pa, and our brothers Sol and Gid. They should be here too." There Benji was, once again butting into a conversation.

And just then the door opened, and Caesar waved them forward. They entered the home quickly. Laura could smell freshly baked bread and her stomach rumbled. A white man Laura had never seen before and his wife stood there in the darkness next to Caesar. And behind them was Papa.

"Laura. Benji," he said and Laura moved quickly past everyone to Papa's outstretched arms. She felt him press dry lips across the top of her forehead. If anyone had told her a week ago she would be hugging him, she would have laughed long and loudly. Now she didn't want to let go. "Course ya'll would be the ones to run into trouble." He sounded amused, but Laura could hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice.

"We ran into Sam and Caesar," Benji offered.

"Sam?"

"I'm Sam," Sam said quietly. He walked past the white couple, his eyes skittering towards them quickly and back and then past Caesar. He held out a hand and Papa shook it.

"Amos. This here is Mr. and Mrs. G," Papa told Laura and Benji while nodding at the white couple. "They gone let us stay for the night."

"Come on," the wife said and motioned them further back into the house where a fire was burning low. They followed and with more light, Laura could see more of Sam. He had found a corner to stand in, his eyes darting occasionally to those around him and then to the floor. He was barefoot, his clothes were ragged and stained, his lower jaw was peppered with facial hair, and he could have used a bath. But that didn't change the fact that he was quite honestly one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. His skin was a few shades lighter than hers, his brown eyes encased with thick, black eyelashes, his lips were neither thin nor full and like most slaves who worked in the fields, slim though he was, muscles abounded. Laura wished Annie were there so they could swoon together. Because even Annie, who liked discussing boys about as much as she used to enjoy fanning Miss Martha in the afternoon heat, would probably take a moment to pause and appreciate his features.

"Sam!" A low, worried voice called out from behind Laura. And then she realized that her first thought was incorrect. He was not one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He was one of two. Twins.


Sam lifted his gaze off the wood floor, smile already on his face as Manny crossed the room towards him.

"Sam!" Manny repeated, coming to his side and wrapping an arm around his neck. Sam returned to the gesture. "Don't ever do that again," Manny whispered, his breath hot and angry in Sam's ear. It was a hollow threat because if Sam were ever in a situation like that again, he would do the same thing. And Manny knew it.

"Twins," the white woman said with a quick laugh.

Both Sam and Manny stiffened, looked away. To have a twin was to have that one obvious weakness. Neither he nor Manny liked to acknowledge it.

"Come," she said, with quick motions as she kicked aside a very large rug. The man, her husband, moved past her, reached down and placing his hands into a groove, lifted the floor. Sam could see the shadows of stairs leading to below.

"Been down there already. But I wanted to wait up here. Make sure you make it in," Manny said quietly.

"It's plenty room down there," Amos, Laura's pa said, his voice low and gravelly. Sam looked the huge man over. It didn't seem possible that the thin, slight, pretty woman he had found himself attached to for the past few hours came from him. And Laura was pretty. Even looking tired and travel weary, it had been hard for him to keep his eyes of the young woman. And there was something about the way she carried herself... Sam had never known a slave woman to walk with such grace. He could watch her move forever. If he had had any doubts about her being a house slave, the way she moved ended them. Not to mention that she was dressed better than he had ever seen a slave girl; she had shoes on her feet, her speech was more refined, and she held herself just... differently. Even differently than her brother Benji. He had felt her dark gaze studying him and he wondered what she saw. He knew he looked like an old, tired field hand today. It had bothered him none before he met her that his shirt had enough holes to be a net and that he had outgrown his pants a year or so ago leaving inches between the top of his feet and the bottom of his pants. He knew his face looked scruffy and that he probably smelled bad. But he was free now and that was all gone change.

"Here," the man said, handing Amos, Laura's pa, a lantern. "You can light it when you get down there." He turned to Sam, Laura, and Benji. "There's food and blankets aplenty."

"Thank you," Amos said and motioned for Laura to go down first.

"Wait," the wife said. All of them paused, looking at her. The woman's face filled with color, but she turned her gaze to Laura. "You look wet." With her dark cloak, and dark dress, Laura did not look wet, though Sam had felt some dampness when he held her under that tree in the ground. What did that woman want? And then he wondered at his sudden possessiveness. He could not afford to be possessive, now more than ever before he had the threat of being caught and returned hanging over his head. But still, he watched her.

Laura, who had been looking at the stairs, looked up at the woman quickly, her eyes not quite making eye contact. "Yes," Laura said. Her voice was soft, and husky. It was another thing Sam had noticed about her. He liked her voice.

"I have an old dress you can change into." The woman was offering Laura a dress? Was it cause Laura was a house slave?

"I... ," Laura started.

"Come," the woman said and placed a hand on Laura's arm. He watched as Laura tossed a glance at her pa, and then let the woman lead her into a room with a closed door.

"Is that safe?" Manny asked no one, his eyebrows raised. Then it wasn't just him who thought it was odd. Of course it was only Manny who was confused, so maybe it didn't count.

"Oh, don't worry about Laura," Benji, Laura's brother said from his right. He had been so focused on her hadn't even noticed the boy's approach. "Laura can take care of herself around white folks," the boy said quietly. "She'll be just fine." Sam leveled Benji with a look and the boy had the good grace to look away. There was no such thing as taking care of yourself out here.

"Manny, this is Benji, Laura's brother. Benji, my brother, Manny."

Manny gave a nod towards Benji who gave a nod back.

"Come on, Benji." Amos was already headed down the stairs, apparently also not worried about his daughter.

"Sam," called the boy who claimed to be Caesar. The boy was standing by the fireplace, his hands stretched out for warmth as comfortable in this house as a flea on a dog. "Come talk to me for a minute."

The white man lowered the trap door after Amos and Benji went down and left the room leaving Sam, Caesar, and Manny alone. Sam walked to the fire, coming to stand next to Caesar. Manny right behind him.

The boy eyed Manny, indicating that he had not invited him over, but he spoke anyway, "You did me a favor so I'm goin' to do you one," Caesar said as Sam and Manny drew in closer though he returned his gaze to the fire before him. "You asked for advice. Here it is: you two should separate."

"Never." Manny's answer was quick and hard.

Sam placed his hands on his waist. No sense in talking when Manny had answered for them both.

"It's hard livin', being a runaway slave," the boy said, his voice low and quiet and filled with experience. "You'll always be lookin' over your shoulder. Always. And if you marry and have children? Well, your children still be the property of the man who owned you. You free. And you not free. It'll be easier for you both if you split up because together you're memorable. The last thing you want to be when being hunted, is memorable. If the bounty hunters are lookin' for twins, then they path is easy."

Sam had thought on all this before. When you work in the fields all day, all you got is time and time to think. There was a part of him that was willing to leave Manny if it meant that Manny had a better chance of staying free. But they had taken his mama. And he had never had a daddy. He was too selfish to let them take his brother too. He would just have to trust God to protect them both. "That's not goin' to happen." The door to the room that Laura had gone into opened. The white woman came out. Sam watched her walk past them into another room.

"I didn't think it would," the boy said with a sigh. "But I had to try. Here's your second piece of advice: be very careful about where you choose to go from here. You can trust the 'G' family," Caesar said with a nod in the direction that the white man had gone in. "Tomorrow. They gone ask you where you want to go. Up north or out east. Where was you thinkin'?"

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Manny before speaking. "We were thinkin' up north. Canada. We heard that's the only place to really be free."

The boy, Caesar, bit his lip, and nodded. "It's not a bad plan. It's the best one if you gone go up north."

"Where else could we go?" Manny asked, genuinely curious. "We stay here in America, paddy rollers will hunt us all the time."

"It's a different kind of white folks up north and that is a fact. What isn't different is that they still don't like darkies. You go to New York or Philadelphia or even Canada, you still ain't nothin' but a darkie to them. Don't care what nobody say. Ain't no promise land. It's better than being a slave. But ain't glory."

"Figure ain't no place we could ever go where we ain't nothin' but darkies," Manny said quietly, for once taking Caesar seriously.

"That is a fact. But there is a place you can go where you ain't got to be reminded of that fact day in and day out."

"Indian territory," Sam said, staring hard at the boy. He almost missed when the white woman, carrying cloth and a heavy basin of water moved passed them again. It seemed like she was telling the truth then. Laura would be fine. Again he asked himself why it mattered. He didn't have neither the time nor the day to be thinking about a woman and chances were, after this night, he would never see her again. Sam returned his focus to Caesar. He wouldn't let himself get distracted again.

Caesar nodded slowly. "I'm not sayin' there ain't no bounty hunters in Indian Territory. There surely is. But most white men that go out there ain't thinkin' 'bout catchin' no darkies. And land is so bountiful, it's a lot harder if they try."

"Land might be bountiful, but so is Indians."

"Ever heard the phrase the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Naw, it ain't Indians you gone have to worry about. Listen. I ain't tryin' to tell you what to do, I'm just askin' you to carefully consider what freedom looks like to you. Is it livin' in towns so crowded you can hardly breathe? Surrounded by white folks who don't like slavery but also don't like you? Or havin' your own? All you need in Indian Territory is God, your honor, your gun, and your horse. I might have been born a slave, but I was also born a country boy too. Livin' up north ain't my idea of freedom. And it's too dang cold. Think on it, Sam," Caesar said, giving him a nod. "Pray on it. What you decide tomorrow is one of the most important decisions of your life."

"Why does everyone think Sam is the only one who makes decisions around here?" Manny asked, irritation in his voice.

"Third piece of advice," the boy said, ignoring Manny, even as a small smile tugged on his lips.

"If you go out west, specifically Oklahoma Territory, ask around for the town of Arrow Creek. And if you find yourself in trouble ask for Sly Hollis."

"Who is Sly Hollis?" Manny asked with an exhale.

"Me. My name is Sylvester Remus Hollis. Everyone calls me, Sly."

"Oh, everyone knows you in Oklahoma? How old are you? Like ten?"

"Fifteen, fool. How old are you?" Manny opened his mouth, closed it. They figured they were just above twenty, but they weren't sure and Caesar, no, Sly, could see it. "Oh, you don't know do you?"

"I'm older than you," Manny said stubbornly, unwilling to let go of a fight he had already lost. Sam shook his head slightly in exasperation.

"And not a great deal smarter from what I can tell." Sly turned to Sam. "Ask around for me or Jamie Knox. Knox is my friend, the one who looks Indian. Be careful. Don't trust just anyone, even if they are darkies. Not everyone is your friend, Sam. Keep him in check, Manny."

Sam exhaled and blinked. Sly did have his annoying moments. Sam hadn't survived all these years cause he knew nothing.

"My brother can take care of himself," Manny said simply. Sam did not believe for one second that Manny thought that was true. But no matter what, they always had each other's backs.

"If I said the sky was blue, you would say it was purple," Sly said, rolling his eyes Manny. "I didn't mean no offense to Sam. I like Sam. I don't like you." And yet Sly's tone was light. He took a step away from the fire. "Wish you two all the best."

"You not stayin'?" Sam asked, his arms falling to his side. He could hear the alarm in his voice.

Sly shook his head, slowly. "Got to meet up with Knox. Head back."

"You not really Caesar, are you?" Manny asked, eyeing Sly.

Sly exhaled and then gave Sam a pitying look. "You want to deal with this one all day on purpose? I'll have you to know I am Caesar. If it's one thing you can count on me for it's my word of honor. If I tell you a thing, it's true. You're one of the few lucky ones who know my actual name. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

"Then where were you?" Manny asked, no humor in his voice. "We waited almost a year."

Sly's expression hardened. All lightness gone. "I can't stay in one location too long. Where was I? Down south helpin' slaves cross the Mississippi." Sly shrugged. "I can't be everywhere and I can't afford to stay in the same area all year long." Sly bit his lip, shrugged again. "I am sorry."

"Nothin' to apologize for," Manny said quickly, biting his lip. "Just wonderin'."

Sly reached for his hat that Sam only just now noticed was on a small table. He slowly, almost reverently, placed it on his head. "Ya'll take care now," the boy said and left the room. Seconds later, they heard the front door of the house open and shut. Sylvester Remus Hollis, also known as Caesar, was gone.