Excerpt
Chapter 1: The Last of the Solomon Avengers, September 1932
The old man sat down on an outside bench of the small train depot and watched the train depart. He sat quietly in the noon sun as small dust squalls passed him in the empty street. Eventually a mule team and wagon loaded with sacked grain driven by a Negro man drove past the depot.
He walked up to the driver and waved at him to stop.
“That is a fine team of mules. They remind me of my own team when I was a boy.”
The Negro driver was also gray haired but not as old as the old man. The driver replied, “Mules are best for pulling as horses are all prance and fart and no sense.”
The old man smiled and nodded his head, “That is true. Is there any chance of catching a ride to Nicodemus? I would be glad to pay.”
“You are welcome to come along and there is no need to pay. I just hope someone will be left in Nicodemus when we get there. The town is blowing away with the dust like everything else.”
The driver asked curiously, “Do you need some directions when we get to Nicodemus?”
The old man opened the valise and pulled out a rolled up copy of the Kansas City Star. He asked, “Do you read?”
The driver nodded. The old man pointed to a column with a byline of Nicodemus and titled, “Negro Evangeline Searched for Her Colored Gabriel.”
The driver said, “I see that story went all the way to Kansas City. I can get you there on time.”
The old man loaded up his gear and sat down by the Negro man. The driver held out his hand and said, “I am John Brown Lincoln.”
Biting his lip to kill his smirk, he shook hands and said, “Name is Michael Craddock.”
Brown eyed the antique rifles and said, “Those are Beecher’s Bibles, ain’t they mister?”
Craddock nodded and Brown said, “My granddaddy said he seen one once. He said Mr. John Brown himself carried one to fight the bondage. Granddaddy said he didn’t know what was the greater blessing -- to have touched the sleeve of Father Abraham Lincoln or to hold one of Mr. Beecher’s Bibles.”
Craddock reached back for one of the rifles and handed it to the driver.
Brown held the rifle gently and rubbed the barrel reverently. “Do you know how it came to Kansas mister?”
The old man sat down on an outside bench of the small train depot and watched the train depart. He sat quietly in the noon sun as small dust squalls passed him in the empty street. Eventually a mule team and wagon loaded with sacked grain driven by a Negro man drove past the depot.
He walked up to the driver and waved at him to stop.
“That is a fine team of mules. They remind me of my own team when I was a boy.”
The Negro driver was also gray haired but not as old as the old man. The driver replied, “Mules are best for pulling as horses are all prance and fart and no sense.”
The old man smiled and nodded his head, “That is true. Is there any chance of catching a ride to Nicodemus? I would be glad to pay.”
“You are welcome to come along and there is no need to pay. I just hope someone will be left in Nicodemus when we get there. The town is blowing away with the dust like everything else.”
The driver asked curiously, “Do you need some directions when we get to Nicodemus?”
The old man opened the valise and pulled out a rolled up copy of the Kansas City Star. He asked, “Do you read?”
The driver nodded. The old man pointed to a column with a byline of Nicodemus and titled, “Negro Evangeline Searched for Her Colored Gabriel.”
The driver said, “I see that story went all the way to Kansas City. I can get you there on time.”
The old man loaded up his gear and sat down by the Negro man. The driver held out his hand and said, “I am John Brown Lincoln.”
Biting his lip to kill his smirk, he shook hands and said, “Name is Michael Craddock.”
Brown eyed the antique rifles and said, “Those are Beecher’s Bibles, ain’t they mister?”
Craddock nodded and Brown said, “My granddaddy said he seen one once. He said Mr. John Brown himself carried one to fight the bondage. Granddaddy said he didn’t know what was the greater blessing -- to have touched the sleeve of Father Abraham Lincoln or to hold one of Mr. Beecher’s Bibles.”
Craddock reached back for one of the rifles and handed it to the driver.
Brown held the rifle gently and rubbed the barrel reverently. “Do you know how it came to Kansas mister?”
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Craddock replied, “We both came to Kansas on the same steamboat in 1857. That’s what - seventy-five years ago?”
Brown said, “God almighty mister I wish they could talk.” Craddock replied sadly, “If they talked hardly anyone could believe what they have to say. But it was all true. What they say makes a man fear for his immortal soul.” He tried to speak again but his voice cracked and his eyes turned red. He finally rasped out, “How can a man be born when he’s old?" |
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