Free Morning Star by Judith Plaxton Page B

they carry
dirt best left outdoors.” She ladled steaming soup into bowls as she spoke.
Flower carried them to the table. A jug of water and a basket of biscuits sat in
the center. They sat down and, after Dr. Simon said grace, ate their lunch.
Samuel spooned the soup into his mouth with a shaky hand.
    â€œA good, quiet day for travel,” the doctor
commented.
    â€œThe roads are dry,” offered the driver.
    â€œAfter all that rain!”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThe babe is well?” asked Dr. Simon.
    Gabriel sat in his mother’s lap and sucked on a
spoon. He suddenly sneezed, and as Cleo tidied him with the edge of her shawl,
he waved clenched fists in protest, dropped the spoon, and began to cry.
    â€œHe’s fretful,” said Cleo.
    â€œBut nursing?”
    â€œYes, better.”
    â€œGood. I will give you a paregoric for the
journey,” said Dr. Simon.
    â€œMedicine?”
    â€œIt’s a special medicine. It won’t hurt him, but it
will make him sleepy. If he cries and people hear him, you could be caught. We
don’t want that to happen.”
    After lunch, they prepared to leave.
Still not well enough to travel any farther, Samuel lay in bed. The family stood
by it to say their farewells. Flower watched as he and her father clasped
hands.
    â€œTill we meet again.”
    Flower stepped forward and extended her own hand.
Samuel looked abandoned and forlorn, with the bandage looped over where his ear
used to be and under his chin. She wanted to say something encouraging to him,
that they would soon reunite in a free place. She paused and thought, then said,
“I hope you get better soon.”
    He tried to smile at her, but his mouth gave up
right away.
    â€œCourage, brother,” said Eldon.
    They left his bedside and gathered at the front of
the house where a horse and wagon waited for them. The driver directed the
family to the back of his rig, then lifted a blanket and the lid of a large box.
“When we reach a certain place, you must ride in here, out of sight. I’ll tell
you when.”
    As the family climbed aboard, Doctor Simon placed a
small vial of liquid in Cleo’s lap. “Just a drop should be enough.”
    â€œGood-bye and thank you.”
    â€œSafe journey.”
    The wagon swayed forward as they set off down the
road. The horse trotted for a distance, then settled into a steady walk. Flower
sat dreamily, looked at the stony roadside, the trees with leaves drying to
shades of reds and yellows. After a while they came to a bend in the road.
    The driver pulled back on the reins and said, “It’s
time.”
    The space wasn’t large. The four of them lay side
by side, Flower and Gabriel in the middle. Cleo placed a drop of the medication
on her finger and then put the finger into the baby’s mouth. He squeezed his
eyes shut in disgust and began to whimper. The box top thudded down in place. An
explosion of dust caused them to sneeze, then Eldon said “shhh,” and they were
silent.
    The wagon started to move again. Flower felt close
to the road—heard the creak of rotating wooden wheels, the ping of stone, the
grind of dirt, even the snorting breath of the laboring horse as he drew his
load forward.
    The first voice shocked her.
    â€œGood day.”
    â€œG’day.”
    The motion continued, sounds intensified: people,
animals, and other wagons. They came to an abrupt stop, and reins were tied in
place. Flower heard the driver leap down to the ground. Someone walked by.
Flower’s heart began to pound so hard she thought surely everyone could hear it
and they would be discovered. Her father found her hand and squeezed it. Gabriel
slept on, his breath warm against her face.
    The driver returned, another man with him.
    â€œThat rain yesterday…the street was a sea of
mud.”
    â€œThe roads are dry today.”
    â€œEasier going.”
    There was the sudden scrape of the box lid. Flower
held