The longest road epic jo.., p.1
The Longest Road (Epic Journey Series Book 2), page 1
The Longest Road
Book 2 - Epic Journey Series
Dan Walsh
Bainbridge Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
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Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Author’s Note
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Late October, 1857
Foster Mansion, Gramercy Park
New York City
The dreaded day had finally arrived.
Laura's eyes panned the room, making mental pictures of the scene. She didn't want to forget a thing. John's childhood bedroom. It had been their living quarters for the past month. A marvelous refuge after the terrific ordeal they'd been through with the shipwreck. It was larger than their master bedroom back in San Francisco which, to that point in her life, had been the biggest bedroom she'd ever seen.
Every bedroom in the Foster Mansion was bigger than every other room in their house. John's parents' bedroom was larger than their entire first floor. But it wasn't the size of the place she'd miss. Or the elaborate furnishings.
It was the people. John's family.
Especially Allison, who'd quickly become the sister Laura never had. Then John’s brother Joel, his wife Evelyn and their children; nieces and nephews Laura had only just begun to know. They were the cutest things and had already started calling her Auntie Laura, jumping for joy whenever they saw her. Laura would even miss John's mother.
After today, would she ever see any of them again?
Beyond John's family, there was her “second family.” Micah, Eli, and Sally. In some ways, she felt closer to them than anyone. Especially Micah. How could she leave them now?
San Francisco had indeed become her home. The place where she had met John, where they'd fallen in love and gotten married. And John had built her such a nice house. They hadn't even moved in yet. Before their honeymoon trip, she had so looked forward to beginning to furnish and decorate it.
But San Francisco was SO far away. So very far away. She sighed. Perhaps that's what she dreaded most of all. The journey itself.
It wasn't how long it would take. Thanks to the kindness of God, she'd get to spend all that time alone with John. She reminded herself of how very differently these past four weeks would have gone had he perished in the shipwreck, as they had feared. Instead, she and John were starting a new chapter of their lives together. And whatever was contained in those pages, it would be infinitely better than the horrible life that could have been.
But this journey they were about to take, by necessity, must include getting back on a ship and sailing far away from land for days — if not weeks — at a time. She shuddered just thinking about it. The nightmares were not as bad or as intense as the first few weeks, but she was still having them. Stuck alone on a ship adrift at sea. Or like John, floating on a raft but all alone, with sharks circling the waters around her.
John had assured her, this trip would not be anything like the last. She stood next to the dresser, the very spot where John had explained how this time there'd be no disasters or perils at sea.
"I've worked it all out, Laura," he'd said ever so gently. "Believe me, I'm as nervous about getting back on a ship as you. But we're years away from a railroad that connects all the way to California. Even taking those that exist as far as they'd go, we'd still be spending weeks, if not months, in a bumpy uncomfortable wagon riding through hot steamy deserts, crossing rivers with no bridges, through wilderness areas that often come under attack by Indians."
"I know," Laura said.
John continued. "With the plan I've been working on, we'll be riding in first-class accommodations on a train from here to Savannah. That cuts down on two-thirds of the trip on the Atlantic side of the sea and gets us two states south of the place where the Vandervere went down. And from everything I've learned, it's very rare for hurricanes to hit that part of the ocean in late October. Once we get to Panama, we cross over to the Pacific side by train again. You remember the voyage on the Pacific side."
She did. It was mostly calm and peaceful sailing. It all sounded so well and good the way John had explained it. Nevertheless, just thinking about getting on a ship again — any ship — sent shivers up her spine. The worst part of it was, when the rescue ship had appeared, it was only big enough to save the women and children. Over four hundred men were left stranded on a rapidly-sinking ship. She’d spent all those days living with the certainty that John had perished at sea. She just didn't feel ready to get back out there again. But nothing could be done. They had to get home. And this was the only way.
The bedroom door opened, abruptly ending her thoughts and memories. It was Sally, Micah's daughter, carrying folded sheets and bed linens. Laura turned to face her.
"You didn't have to make the bed, Miss Laura. Mrs. Foster wants me to strip the bed down and redo all the linens."
Try as she might, Laura could never get Sally to just call her by her first name. "I'm sorry. I forgot. Just did it out of habit, I guess." She sighed.
"That's okay." Sally started un-making the bed.
That's when Laura noticed her face, her eyes. Something was wrong. She was trying to cover it up, but something was troubling her. "Are you okay, Sally?"
She kept working. "I'll be fine if I just stay busy."
Laura saw tears welling up in her eyes. "You're not okay. What's the matter? Are you sad because we're leaving today? Because I am."
"Plenty sad because of that." She moved around to the other side of the bed. "Gonna miss you folks something awful. But it ain't that. I don't think I can talk about what it —" The tears flowed. She tried wiping them away but her sadness was too strong.
Laura rushed toward her put her arm around her shoulder. "What is it, Sally? Whatever it is, you can tell me."
Sally turned, put her arms around Laura, and just cried. "Oh, Miss Laura. It's so terrible. I'm afraid Eli gonna go and get himself killed. And there ain't nothing I can do about it."
"Eli’s going to be killed?" Laura repeated. "Why? What has he done?"
Sally lifted her head, then stood in front of Laura, wiped her tears on her sleeve. "It's not what he's done. It's what he's fixin’ to do. And if he does what he's sayin’, none of us will ever see him again. I just know it."
2
Leaving Laura to finish up the packing, John made his way down the main staircase of the Foster home, by itself a work of art. It was funny. As a child, he never appreciated this place. But being back this past month after being gone for two years, he was seeing it in a brand-new light. Probably the way most people view it when they first walked through the finely-crafted front doors.
Very rich people lived here. That would be your first impression.
But John could also say — and this with great clarity — it no longer felt like home. He was most definitely visiting the family manse, as a guest, and nothing more. He cleared the last few steps and headed for the veranda at the back of the house. There he would meet his older brother, Joel, for breakfast. Something Joel had requested yesterday when they parted. It wasn't just a chance for a last goodbye before John and Laura left for San Francisco. Apparently, Joel had "something rather important" to discuss and said he'd come here from his place a few blocks away.
"Meet you there at seven, my good man," Joel had said.
Looking at his watch, John saw that it was five after, which meant Joel would already be in his seat on the veranda, his coffee already poured. This was confirmed after John made it through three familiar doorways and stepped into the nippy morning air. There was Joel at the far end, dressed as though attending a dinner party rather than a casual breakfast. Coffee in one hand, morning newspaper in the other.
As John closed the distance, he noticed a silver serving tray on the mahogany buffet to the left,
lid still on, a silver serving spoon beside it on a china plate. A matching silver coffee set was beside that on an ornamental tray complete with a silver creamer and bowl for sugar.
"Oh, there you are," Joel said. "Hoped you didn't forget." He set the newspaper down.
"It's only five-after, Joel."
"Right," he said, sipping his coffee. "I don't know where Sally is. She was supposed to serve us breakfast this morning. She's usually quite prompt."
John glanced at the distance between Joel and the silver food tray. Couldn't be more than twelve feet. "Who poured your coffee?"
"I did. Couldn't wait any longer."
A wonder you survived, John thought. He walked over to the tray, lifted the lid. Wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing, but it smelled delicious.
“Sally should be here in a couple of minutes,” Joel said. “Can’t imagine what’s keeping her.”
"Well, how about this?" John said. "I will serve you and me some of this delicious whatever-it-is breakfast stuff here." He picked up the serving spoon. "It'll be great practice for me, since we're heading back to a place where we don't have people who serve you food and pour your coffee."
"I suppose that'll do. But the way things seem to be going for you out there, I expect it won't be long before you and Laura can afford to hire house servants to take care of the mundane things."
John finished putting the breakfast food on Joel's plate. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"It was, in a way. I have to be honest, John. I haven't said this since you've been back, but I should have. You surprised all of us upon your return. Considering the little you had when you went out there two years ago, it was almost shocking to learn that you and Laura had sailed all this way in first-class accommodations, and that your hardware business was doing so well. Neither Father nor I saw that coming."
John didn't know what to say. This conversation was certainly uncharted territory for him. He finished putting food on his plate, poured his coffee and brought all this to the table. "Here you go, sir," he said serving Joel's plate. "Hope you enjoy your breakfast…casserole?"
"I can't remember what Sally calls it," Joel said. "But I can't get enough of it. There are biscuits in there, scrambled eggs, sausage, some kind of cheese. I've spent very little time in the South, but I have certainly enjoyed the unique southern dishes she brought with her when she escaped."
"That's one thing I definitely haven't missed, being back," John said, "dealing with the injustice of slavery. They don't have it out in San Francisco. It's great to see all the freed Negroes around the city here, but there still seems to be so much tension in the air."
"Things seem to be heating up on that issue," Joel said. “I see it every day in the newspaper. Can't tell where this situation will end up."
"Aren't you and Mother at all nervous about employing Sally and Eli? As you said, she escaped from the South. Eli's a runaway, too, isn't he?"
Joel finished chewing, nodded.
"I was reading an article yesterday," John said, "of some slave catchers from Virginia wanting to press charges against a white couple in Brooklyn, for housing a runaway slave they'd hired and hid the past several months."
"Nothing will come of that," Joel said. "Technically, it is the law. Northerners aren't supposed to help runaway slaves from the South, and we can be arrested or fined if we're caught doing it. I've not been personally involved in any of this, but from hearing conversations between Mother and Allison, sentiments in the North are siding more with the abolitionists. We can't stop the slave catchers from coming up here searching for runaways, but fewer people are cooperating with them, and most of the authorities around here are unwilling to enforce these laws. Against whites, I mean."
"So, Sally and Eli aren't in danger of being captured by these…slave catchers?"
"I suppose they're not entirely out of danger, but it's been over three years for both of them, and no one has come looking. During that time, the organization that Mother’s dealing with secured legal-looking papers for them both. So, it seems they're in the clear. At least for now. But like I said, who knows where this whole situation is headed? I heard Mother talking with a neighbor a few weeks ago, who wanted to hire a Negro for her staff but she was saying that most of them—the ones that escape now, I mean—don’t stop here in New York any longer. They keep going till they reach Canada."
John sighed. "That's the one part of our trip home I'm not looking forward to. For Laura, it's about being on the ship. For me, it’s more about the trip down to Savannah. We'll mostly be on a train, but it's gonna be hard riding through all those slave states, which is most of the trip. Seeing the way they treat people like Micah, Sally, and Eli. I don't know how Laura's going to handle it when we see them mistreated nearby."
"Or how about this?" Joel said, "if the train makes a stop in the center of one of the southern towns — which it most likely will do — and you see slaves being auctioned on the block right outside your window? That could very well happen."
John shook his head. "I know. Not looking forward to that at all."
Joel stood up, carried his plate to the buffet. "I simply must have more of this."
"Look at you, serving yourself," John said.
"You want a little more?"
"No, I have plenty. But what was it you were wanting to talk to me about before I left? You said it was something important."
"It is. And in a roundabout way, we've been edging toward it this whole time."
"I'm not sure I follow.”
"It's about your trip back to San Francisco," Joel said. "I've already talked this over with Father. And believe it or not, he's on board with what I'm about to say."
John set his fork down. "Which is?"
"We have a proposal to make that will include…well, it would include you and Laura not getting on that train today. And well...not going back to San Francisco at all."
3
Harrison Townhome, Gramercy Park
New York City
Presently, Micah was where he'd usually be most mornings these days…in the carriage house at the Harrison place. Doing what he usually did most mornings…getting the Harrison's horses ready to face the day. Every morning since he got here a month ago, it be so easy to start the day off smiling. Just the fact he was a free man was enough. Even had the papers to prove it.
Could still hardly believe it.
At this age, Micah had never allowed even a hope to form that he'd ever be free this side of heaven. Figured he'd end up his number of days serving Captain Meade aboard the Cutlass. Hard as that was, those three years had been the easiest to bear since his first memories working out in the cotton fields as a young boy.
But now look at what the Lord had done for him? "Yes sir, Shadrach, these are my best days, for sure. Standing here, brushing your mane, smooth as silk. Can't hardly call it a chore." Shadrach nodded, as if he understood. Fact was, Micah didn't mind any of the work that went along with caring for these horses. Nicest looking creatures he'd ever laid eyes on. Had to be some high breeding at work here. When he first got to the Harrisons, he was led to believe he'd find the horses stubborn and difficult to manage. But after just a few days, the opposite was true.
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were just as calm and good-natured as you'd want horses to be. Course, that weren't their names in the beginning. They didn't even have names. They were just the brown one, the dark brown one, and the black one. That was part of the problem. Creatures this fine and this smart had to have names. Micah knew right off what to call them. Three of his favorite Bible characters from the book of Daniel. Before the first week was out, all three responded to their names like they'd known them all their lives.
