The Fugitive Son Read Online Free PDF Page A

off his guilt.

    The Ohio River
    Elsie stood on the dock watching Isaac direct her luggage from wagon to dock to gangplank. He seemed totally at ease and in command as if he had always worked as a dockhand. When the last trunk made its way up the gangplank, Isaac approached her. “Time to board.”
    Once on deck, Elsie was greeted by a steward and shown to her cabin. When she asked about Isaac’s cabin, the steward sneered. “Slaves sleep on the trunks in the master’s cabin. Of course, that would not be seemly in this situation.” He looked at Elsie with disdain. “Had you brought your maid instead of your manservant, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
    “But I paid for a first-class cabin for him. If he’s to protect me, he should be close by, don’t you think?” Elsie poured on her Southern charm.
    The steward wasn’t swayed. “You’ll have to take the ticket price up with the steamship company. No slave – or freedman, for that matter – gets a cabin of his own on the upper deck. Your boy will stay below on the cargo deck.”
    “I declare!” Elsie felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as she stomped her foot. “I want to speak to the captain.”
    “It won’t do you any good,” the steward said. “Rules are rules.” He turned toward Isaac, who was depositing Elsie’s trunks. “When you’re done with that, boy, you get on down to the bottom deck where you can stay with the other slaves and riffraff.”
    Elsie cringed at the steward’s tone, but she held her tongue when Isaac winked at her. Isaac knew her and her temper too well. She put her gloved hand to her lips, suppressing an inappropriate giggle.
    Isaac bowed low. “If you be needin' me, Miss Elsie, I'll be down b’low. You jus' call if’n you need anythin’.” And thus, the masquerade began.
    Elsie watched as Isaac turned away. In place of the proud giant of a man, he had assumed the role of an uneducated, ingratiating slave. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his chin pointed habitually toward the floor, and his eyes lowered. Even the tone of his voice and his vocabulary had changed. Gone was her friend – the commanding conversationalist, well-versed in literature, music, and politics.
    I declare, what a brilliant actor he is!
Elsie thought as she settled into her cabin. She felt guilty that she would have the luxury of a private room while he had to find a place to sleep amidst the cargo. Not that her cabin was all that comfortable. Outfitted with a single berth, a bench, and a table, it was hardly luxurious. But at least it offered some privacy – and cleanliness.
    A chill swept over her, despite the heat, as she recalled the stories she had heard about all the thuggery and disease that plagued the poor souls confined to the cargo deck. “Protect him, Lord, and keep him well,” she whispered.



Chapter 3
    July 1857

Fort Bridger, Oregon Territory
    D AY AFTER endless day, the Devil’s Gate survivors and their rescuers, the returning missionaries, trudged along the trail toward Great Salt Lake City. Andy’s thoughts often focused on Ingrid and Anne Marie’s orphaned baby girl. Traversing the trail in the beautiful early summer weather was hard enough. How had it been for the sick and dying in the midst of the horrible winter cold? Had Ingrid and Ammie made it safely to Deseret? Or had Ingrid carried out her threat and managed to escape?
    He seriously doubted that Heavenly Father even listened to his prayers anymore, but he prayed anyway.
Please, Father, keep Ingrid and Ammie safe until I can find both of them and figure out what to do.
Bitterness choked his prayer. Ammie should have been his and Anne Marie’s first-born. Instead, the beautiful infant was one of his father’s many daughters. Andy shook his head as he tried to count how many half-siblings he had.
    He finally gave up in disgust.
I don’t even know how many wives Pa has, let alone how many brothers and sisters he’s produced for me
, he thought,
but one thing I