Free A Deeper Sense of Loyalty by C. James Gilbert

rain slicker and a piece of canvas, ten feet long and six feet wide. It took two trips to get his goods loaded in the wagon, and when he was finished, he climbed in and headed out of town in the direction from which he’d come.
    By now it was only half past six, but under the heavy cloud cover that had moved in it was getting dark fast. The thunder rumbled, the lightning flashed, and the wind blew harder.
    James was not far out of town when he thought he could hear hoof beats somewhere behind him. But the impending storm made so much noise that it was difficult to tell for sure. It was no more than three miles to the spot where he’d left the slaves hiding in the grove of trees. The storm was turning violent now: the thunder crashed directly overhead, the lightning lit up the heavens, but as yet, it was not raining.
    About two miles from town, James looked ahead for the hayfield and the grove of trees. Slowing his speed a bit, he looked back towards town just as the lightning lit the area like midday. A scare ran through him as if he’d been struck by the bolt when he saw that he was indeed being followed. He did not need to wonder who it was. He was sure it would have to be the tough looking customer he’d literally run into at the sheriff’s office and he was pretty sure that there was more than one horse and rider behind him.
    He didn’t know what to do and he had very little time to decide. If he went to the grove he would lead trouble directly to the slaves. If he kept going he wasn’t sure what might happen. Whoever was behind him wouldn’t keep following forever. Sooner or later they would figure they’d been spotted and that James was just leading them away. When that happened they would catch up and deal with him. He could never outrun them in a wagon, so he could not lose the pursuit and then double back. Quickly, he made his plan, and it was a poor one at best.
    When he recognized the grove of trees, he drove off the road and crossed the field as fast as he could. Reaching the edge of the grove, he pulled to a stop, grabbed a lantern from the back of the wagon, lit it, and jumped down calling Darnell’s name. The storm was raising the devil and it had started to rain. James quickly explained the situation to the slaves and told them what he wanted them to do. Then he hung the lantern from a tree limb so that it would illuminate the tiny clearing surrounded by the trees.
    About one minute later, two men on horseback came through the trees and into the light. As James had figured, it was the rough man from Greenville and another man who, even in the dim light, looked every bit as unkempt and uncouth as the first. With their pistols drawn, they dismounted and stood menacingly before James, Darnell, and the two women.
    â€œNow ain’t that a sight, Henry,” said the man in buckskin.
    â€œIt sure is, Virgil. Black gold,” said the second man.
    â€œMaybe you’ll have more respect for my hunches after this,” Virgil told his partner. To James he said, “I knew you was lying, boy. You ain’t no slave catcher, no sir. Looks to me like you’re tryin to help these niggers escape. Check that boy to see if he’s armed.” James stood still; biting his lower lip while the miscreant called Henry searched him, located his revolver, and jerked it from his waistband. Then he walked back to his spot beside Virgil. Then Virgil said, “What do ya think we oughta do with him, Henry?”
    â€œI think we should lash that boy to a tree, tie our horses behind that wagon, and head for Georgia with these here niggers.”
    â€œMighty good thinkin, pard—wait just a damn minute. Where’s the other one?”
    â€œOther one?” said Henry.
    â€œYeah, the other one. It’s supposed to be two bucks and two bitches. Where’s that other black son of a bitch?” From behind them, two things happened at the same time. A voice