Free Soon Be Free by Lois Ruby

and offered it to Tully.
    At that very moment, Solomon also thrust his free papers into Tully’s hand. Tully shoved his glasses down to the tip of his nose to study Solomon’s papers.
    â€œThis sure enough says he’s free.” Then he looked at James’s papers. “This sure enough says he’s not.” He looked from James to Solomon. “Now, I ask you, what’s an honest, God-fearing man to believe?”
    â€œOh, I can explain,” said Miss Farrell. “The boy’s plain mad.” She cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered good and loud, “He’s not got his bait just right on the hook, if you understand my meaning. In fact, the child’s on his way to see a doctor in St. Louis, and so’s the lame one. It would be a tragedy if you didn’t let them and their trusty servant board, sir, as the doctor could make a difference in whether this boy ends up in an asylum or the other one gets a peg leg.”
    â€œWho are you?” the agent asked.
    â€œAlma Farrell, the boys’ governess. I know I look like too fine a lady to be part of a domestic staff, but looks can be deceiving.” She fluttered her eyelashes, and the agent blushed.
    Tully was thoroughly bamboozled now. Free or slave? Madman or free man? Owensboro, Philadelphia, or Lawrence? Shaking his head, he handed Miss Farrell both sets of papers, took all four tickets, and let them board the Francie Mulryan.
    Once safely on board, Miss Farrell pulled a Chinese fan from her carpetbag and said, “Well, that’s about the most fun I’ve had since the day my daddy had a pickle barrel topple over on him atHannibal’s Saloon! I do admire a good lie now and then.”
    â€œPeg leg?” Will said. “I ain’t a pirate, Miss Farrell, ma’am.”
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    The first two days on the river passed pleasantly. James and Will shared a cabin that was fancier than any place James had ever slept. Meals in the dining room were elegant affairs, with forks and knives as heavy as hammers, and tablecloths starched so stiff, they crackled when your knee brushed against them.
    Solomon was a deck passenger, along with other Negroes, wagons, and teams of horses and oxen. And because there were some three hundred passengers aboard, no one had seen Miss Farrell for two blessed days.
    The spring rain had been sparse so far, and patches of the winter’s ice hadn’t melted yet, so the shallow water presented headaches for the captain of the Francie Mulryan. On the third day out, the boat edged up to the shore, and the captain announced, “All able-bodied boys over twelve and men under fifty will be getting out here.”
    â€œWhat?” Will demanded. “We’re not there yet, are we?”
    â€œWe’ll never make it over the sandbars in this shallow water,” the captain said, “unless we lighten the load.”
    â€œHow long are we going to have to walk?” an angry gentleman asked.
    â€œOh, no more than five, six miles,” the captain assured him.
    Will scrambled to be among the men disembarking, but James firmly said no. “There will be plenty of time for walking on the way back from Kentucky. Save thy shoe leather.”
    Will put up a weak battle. “You leaving me here with the women and children?” But he reluctantly agreed. He said the humidity from the river made his empty leg ache something fierce.
    Two hours up the river, the men could all board again, and James found Will with a showgirl perched on his good knee and her arms around his skinny neck. “You’re just the cutest thang!” the girl said.
    â€œSomebody had to look after them,” he told James.
    Later, Will found a place at the poker table and coaxed James to sit down. “There’s no sin in just watching.” But James wasn’t so sure. Ma did not approve of gambling, and, anyway, the game was puzzling. Those men drank