Till traveled the rutted wagon marks in the mud. He dare not call out his son’s name because the grotesque night shapes and haunting sounds held the same fearful meaning as they did for Eubie. He quickened his pace when he heard dogs barking at a distance. The sound of running footsteps and galloping horses forced him to climb the nearest tree. From where he was perched, he could see a dark figure running with several hounds yapping and growling close behind. Through the trees, moonlight revealed the eerie sight of two torch carrying Slavers on horseback. The men wore horned masks which hardened the fears of every potential runaway and in turn kept them anchored to the uncertain safety of the plantation. Till watched as the figure hid in the swamp. He thought that was a good idea to throw the hounds off the scent until realization set in that he might be discovered instead.
The dogs stopped at Till’s tree and sniffed at the base. One of the Slavers lifted a torch to the branches. Till hugged the tree tighter. When the Slaver strained to get a closer look, a splash was heard from the swamp. “This way,” the second Slaver said. The first Slaver rode off in said direction and to Till’s relief, the dogs followed. As the Slavers shot their rifles into the water, Till heard them clearly. “Looks like gators got our bounty money.”
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty more where he come from,” the other voice said.
Till waited until they were gone before climbing down. Hoping the dead man might still be alive, he edged closer to the swamp. However, hope was dashed when he saw through a sliver of moonlight the large tail of an alligator. At that moment, a twig snapped and Till froze. “There’s nothing you can do for him now,” a voice said. Till slowly turned around and saw a rifle toting white man mounted on a horse. Till tried to avert his eyes from the all too familiar breech loading weapon.
“Please, don’t shoot.” The man quickly lowered the rifle.
“Saw them scoundrels high tailin’ it ‘cross my land. Knew they wuz up to no good, so I come see what all the ruckus was about.” He offered his hand to help Till out of the water. “Name’s Amos. Amos Hadley.” Not accustomed to such friendliness from a white man, Till was about to extend his hand when the first Slaver galloped up behind them. As soon as their fingertips touched, Amos struck Till with the butt of his rifle, knocking him back down.
“Didn’t know there was two of ‘em,” the Slaver said.
“There ain’t,” Amos said. “This one’s mine.” A confused Till wished he had stayed in the tree.
“You know there ain’t no dibs on slaves.” The Slaver smirked. “Now that they’re free, it’s anybody’s game.
“Ain’t you had ‘nuff sport for one night?” Amos said pointing his rifle in the Slaver’s direction. “Lemme have some fun.” A bleeding Till appeared worried at this last remark. When the Slaver left, Amos helped a cautious Till to his feet. “Didn’t mean to hit ‘ya so hard. Guess ‘ya might call it the lesser of two evils,” he said wincing with pain. He didn’t know whether be grateful or afraid when Amos lifted him onto the horse.
Once inside the Hadley kitchen, Amos tended to Till’s head wound. Elizabeth, his wife, set a plate of food in front of him. Till ate ravenously. She tried plying more onto his plate, but he signaled that he had enough. “Thank you kindly Ma’am. Don’t wanna be no bother.” He noticed that she didn’t have that biting stare that caused him to lower his eyes and make him feel unworthy just by existing. In fact, up until he asked permission to look for Eubie, Mrs. Culpepper was the only white woman he ever spoke to. He was amazed at how much at ease he was with Mrs. Hadley. Still, he thought he saw faint alarm spread across her face when he grabbed an axe from a corner of the kitchen. “Thought I’d chop a little wood – pay you back for all ‘ya kindness,” he said. Amos wasn’t nearly as threatened. As a God-fearing man, he knew he had done the right thing by taking him in.
“How much choppin’ ya think you’d get done with them Slavers jes’ lookin’ for bounty like you?” Amos asked.
Elizabeth, who trusted her husband implicitly, reaffirmed his reluctance. “Ain’t safe for Satan hisself to be out on a night like this.” She was right. The fog had risen so rapidly from the swamp that not even the moon was of any use. Darkness didn’t bother Till. He knew that what he had to do beat out the devil’s work any day.
“It’s mah boy. Only ten and I’s ‘fraid he been took.” Amos glanced over at Elizabeth. The plate she had been wiping clean crashed to the floor shattering the ever-present anxiety that never allowed her to forget her own child. Tearfully, she ran from the room. Till wanted to know if somehow he had offended her. Amos was accustomed to his wife’s outbursts and assured him that he hadn’t. Stuffing his pipe with tobacco, he offered his new friend a smoke. As much as Till marveled at this unlikely relationship, he wasn’t quite comfortable putting his mouth where a white man’s lips had been.
“We had a son,” Amos said pulling thoughtfully on his pipe. “A bit older than yours, mind you, but a boy jes’ the same. He too wanted to be out in the world.” Till waited politely until the last of the little smoke rings grew large then disappeared before asking what happened. A few moments passed before Amos finally answered. “Lost ‘em to the war. Wife never got over it.” A few more puffs of smoke drifted from his pipe. “I ain’t one t’hold no grudge.” He took out a piece of paper and a pencil from a nearby cupboard and wrote on it. “If you ever make it to the City of Brotherly Love, I have people there,” he said sliding the paper across the table. “Show ‘em this.” Till stared blankly. Because he couldn’t read, the words Friend of a Friend meant nothing to him. “My people are Quakers. They believe in peace and hold no ill-will toward any man.” Till couldn’t imagine a place where everyone loved everybody else especially if you were black. Perhaps Eubie was right he thought. Maybe there was something to his son’s foolhardy beliefs after all.
***
When it was safe enough to travel, Till left the Hadley home and traversed the countryside seeking out his own kind for safe passage. Most of the time he traveled by day in order to avoid the Slavers who mainly hunted as soon as the sun went down. During the day, he was made invisible by mixing in with other plantation blacks so as not to stand out. Every now and then he picked cotton in the fields in an effort to help whatever family that risked sharing what little they had in order to help him. Most people were compassionate once they learned that he was looking for his lost son. However, others were so desperate for an extra worker they threatened to report him to their Master if he didn’t stay to help. Once, in the middle of the night, he fled before an Overseer had the chance to put him in chains and fetters.
