Spring Will Come (33 page)

             
Sam shrugged, a smile playing at his lips.  “Bout as well as I thought I would,” he replied.  “I know it can’t last for good, but I’m enjoyin’ it sure enough for now.”   He paused.  “Opal even taught me how to read.”

             
“That’s great, Sam!”  His voice turned serious.  “Keep learning, Sam.  There’s a lot of people up North who want to see us free.  I can feel it coming, Sam.  I can feel it coming.”

             
“Yep,” the old man said easily.  “It’s coming.  Now each person got to figure out what they’re goin’ to do with it - use it or waste it.”

             
“You haven’t changed,” Moses laughed.  “You always know how to say it the way it is.”

             
Sam changed the subject.  “Why you need to know where Saunders lives?”

             
Moses was instantly all business.  “I’m going after my little sister June.”

             
“The army know you’re doing this?”  When Moses nodded, he continued.  “How you aim to get her out of there?”

             
Moses shrugged.  “I haven’t figured out all the details yet.  First I have to get there.”

             
“It’ll come to you,” Sam agreed.  He pulled out a sheet of paper and began to draw a crude map.

             
Moses leaned forward to watch him.  Concern flooded his mind.  Sam knew the roads, but he couldn’t travel on the roads.  It would be too easy to get caught.  Would he be able to continue down the river and then pick up on the map when he thought he was far enough south?  His mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan. 

             
Sam read his thoughts.  He sat back and studied the map for a long time.  Finally he spoke.  “I don’t imagine the roads are too safe for you.”

             
Moses just shook his head, still staring at the map.  A long silence passed as both men pondered the problem.

             
“You gots to take the boat,” Sam stated quietly.

             
“The boat?  What boat?”  Moses asked.

             
“Marse Cromwell’s boat.  It was hidden purty good when the soldiers came through.   Figured we might need it some day, so we hid it even better.”

             
“I don’t want to take it if you’re going to need it,” Moses protested. 

             
“I figure this is what we needed it for,” Sam observed quietly.  “I ain’t plannin’ on gettin’ in any boat and floatin’ down that river.  If you want it, you welcome to it.”

             
Moses considered his options.  He could continue to flounder down the river on shore, or he could take his chances of floating downstream under the cover of night.  According to Sam’s map, he still had a good thirty miles to go.  He had to find June and get her out of there, or he would never make it back to his unit on time.  “I’ll take it,” he announced. 

             
Sam stood and headed back toward the kitchen.  “I reckon you goin’ to need some food.” 

             
Moses followed, once more confident in God’s leading. 

It was almost dark when Sam stopped in front of a jumbled pile of brush and limbs.  “There’s your boat.” 

              Minutes later Moses had uncovered the simple rowboat.

             
“The Union soldiers took Marse Cromwell’s big boat.  They didn’t get this one,” he said proudly. 

             
Moses stared at it in delight.  “It’s just like the one Rose and I rowed across the Potomac,” he said quietly.  Once again memories poured into his mind.  Memories - along with an ache of longing.  He would give anything to see her right now - to hold her in his arms and feel her soft lips.  Resolutely he pushed the thoughts away; they would bring him nothing but torment right now. 

             
Sam helped him carry the boat to the edge of the water and then stepped back.  “God bless you, boy.”

             
Moses exchanged a long look with him and then embraced the old man.  “Thank you, Sam.”

             
“We gots to stick together, boy.  That’s how we all gonna make it.  I learned that a long time ago.” 

             
Moses watched until Sam’s figure was swallowed by darkness.  Then he settled into steady rowing.   He figured it would take him two nights to travel the thirty miles.  He would have to estimate his distance the best he could.  Sam had studied the river then told him by his figuring Moses could make between three to four miles an hour. 

             
Memories assailed Moses as he pulled at the oars.  He could almost see Rose in the bow of the boat.  He could almost feel her hands massaging his shoulders to ease his bunched muscles.    He could almost hear her beautiful voice singing out into the night.  The scary moments of their escape took on precious meaning as he relived them.  They had fought their fears and conquered them - together.  Once again the ache of missing Rose swelled up in him, tightening his throat and constricting his stomach.  

             
He groaned and leaned harder into the oars.  Sweat poured down his face, and his breath came in quick gasps.  Finally he gave a short laugh and stopped rowing.  If he kept up this pace, he wouldn’t be able to paddle by midnight.  He knew how important it was to maintain a steady momentum.  Moses searched his mind for something to take his mind off Rose.  There was only one thing that came to mind.  He kept his voice low as his deep bass floated toward the heavens. 

             
Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile,

             
Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile,

             
Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile,

             
A long ways from home,

             
A long ways from home.

              True believer, true believer,

             
A long ways from home,

             
A long ways from home.

              Sometimes I feel like a moaning dove,

             
Sometimes I feel like a moaning dove,

              Sometimes I feel like a moaning dove,

             
A long ways from home,

             
A long ways from home.

              True believer, true believer,

             
A long ways from home,

             
A long ways from home.

             
When Moses finished singing that song, he launched into another.  Just like generations before him, the words poured hope into his heart.  The songs he sang were not merely songs; they were life itself - the life of the human soul.  They had been all that kept his people going at times.  He recognized them as a rich heritage.  He poured out his soul – the songs in return poured life back into his soul. 

             
When he was finally quiet, the inky night embraced him in fellowship and brotherhood.   The soft breeze caressed his aching muscles and kept the mosquitoes at bay.  Twinkling stars whispered great secrets of the universe.  Hooting owls joined with croaking frogs to form a background symphony for the gentle lapping of the waves.  A shooting star grabbed his attention as it flashed across the sky then faded into oblivion.  Moses continued to hum quietly as the boat glided across the water. 

Two mornings later, Moses pulled the boat ashore at first light, found a place to hide it
, and then carefully covered it with limbs and piles of brush.  If anyone looked closely, they would know something had been hastily concealed, but it would have to do.  If he moved quickly, he might find someone in the area who could tell him how to locate Millstone Plantation. 

             
Once the boat was hidden, Moses settled down on a log and finished off the last of the cornbread and sweet potatoes Sam had sent with him.  He washed it down with a canteen full of water then turned to the river to refill it.  He stood on the bank of the James River for several minutes and stared out into the early dawn.  He would miss the river.  It had become his friend during the last two long nights.  He had shared secrets, memories, and hopes with the great expanse.  In return, it had taught him one of the lessons of life. 

             
Life will always flow on,
it had whispered gently.
You might try to stop it, but no one can alter the flow of life.  You can only learn how to move with it gracefully, tumbling through the rough times, restoring yourself during the smooth times - knowing that wherever it takes you a mightier hand than yours is guiding you - always directing your path. 

             
Moses raised his hand in farewell then disappeared into the woods.  Thirty minutes of hard walking brought him to a narrow dirt road, dusty from the heat.  The morning air was still cool, but the sun promised another searing day.  Moses stood still, pondering his options.  The road seemed little used, but that didn’t mean anything.  He was so close to June!  Dare he risk walking down the open road?  A clatter of wheels in the distance made his decision.  Turning quickly, he dove for cover in the bushes then peered out, watching to see who was coming. 

             
The sounds of an approaching wagon drew closer and then finally materialized into a rickety open wagon, drawn by an equally rickety mule.   Moses waited quietly, watching closely as the wagon drew nearer.  Not until he could tell the driver was an elderly black man did he step from his cover in the woods. 

             
“Whoa there!”  the driver called in a startled voice.  “What you want, boy?” came the suspicious question. 

             
“I mean no harm,” Moses assured him. 

             
“Hmph.  Don’t reckon as how I could stop you if you did,” the man drawled.  “What can I do for you?”

             
“I’m looking for Millstone Plantation.”

“Millstone, eh?”  The man examined him for a long moment
then barked.  “What for?”

             
Moses hesitated then chose honesty.  “I’m looking for my sister.”

             
The driver looked puzzled.  “Am I missing something here?  What’s a young buck like you roaming the country for?  You be a free man, boy?”

             
Moses smiled.  “I am unless the wrong people find me.”  Instinctively, he knew he could trust this man. 

             
The driver threw back his head and laughed heartily.  “My name be Bartholomew.  My friends call me Bart.”

             
Moses moved forward and shook hands firmly.  “I’m Moses.”

             
“And you’re looking for Millstone Plantation.  Well, you ain’t too far away, boy.”