The man answered shortly. “What you don’t know, you can’t tell.”
+ + +
Only then did the boys realize how exhausted they were. The man led them up two flights of stairs to an attic hideaway. The stranger opened the door. Sam rushed in. There, huddled on a small bed in the corner, faces lit by candlelight, were a woman and young girl. “Mama!” Sam cried. “Myra!”
Autie couldn’t believe the luck. Sam had found his mother and sister. They had been brought to this station in the back of a wagon two days ago. The reunion was exciting and exhilarating but the boys were exhausted. Sam fell asleep in his mother’s arms.
The stranger turned to Autie and pointed towards a mattress lying in a corner. Autie dropped onto and tucked his elbow under his head as he talked to the helpful stranger.
“What happens next?” he asked.
“About once a week, more or less as needed, I send a small boat across the river with some farm goods and bring back some supplies. There’s space on the boat that will hold about six men. The runaways are brought here from the mainland to wait for the next supply boat and passage to Canada.”
“Do you just leave them on the shore?” Autie asked.
“No, we have a system. We signal with lanterns. I’ll light as many lanterns as I have runaways. When they are ready to receive, they light three lanterns. No more, no less. I’ll take down my lanterns so they know to be on the lookout. But Master Custer, that’s more than you need to know.”
Nevertheless, he continued. Autie listened with fascination even as his eyelids grew heavy.
“There will be people waiting to help them. Where they go and what they do exactly I can’t tell you. It is the same as I told you. What I don’t know I can’t tell.”
Satisfied that he and Sam were in good hands, Autie drifted off to sleep.
Back on the mainland, Tom spent a restless night not knowing what might have befallen Autie and Sam. His instincts were to go looking for his brother, but he obeyed Autie and stayed put.
Morning came. Tom continued his wait. He was getting hungry now. But he followed Autie’s orders. Tom sat on the wagon bench and looked up and down the road. Several farmers passing by waved to him. Tom waved back. He made sure he looked like he knew what he was doing. When he heard a wagon, he busied himself with the remaining horse. He didn’t want anyone stopping and asking questions he wasn’t sure he knew how to answer. When no one was in sight, Tom sat high on the wagon bench scanning the road in both directions.
Finally he saw a horse approaching ridden by a boy waving widely. Tom couldn’t help himself. He ran as fast as he could toward his brother.
The adventure with Sam was over, but something still haunted young Custer. Sam was the first Negro he had befriended. He liked him and would not have minded being his friend for a long time.
Autie thought back to the political rallies he had often attended with his father. He remembered the long political discourses he had overheard in the Custer kitchen. His father had often defended the South’s right to hold slaves, but faced with a runaway slave boy hiding in his own barn, his father had not hesitated to lead him to freedom—even allowing his own boys to take a risk.
As the boys drove the wagon down the lane into their own farmyard, Autie contented himself in thinking that this would, in all probability, be his only encounter with slavery. His life was about to return to normal. He would never have to think about slavery again.
Chapter 3
The Appointment
Tom Custer brushed the dust off his brother’s jacket as the two young men neared the office of Republican Congressman’s District Office. “You will be fine, Autie,” he encouraged his older brother, his thirteen-year-old voice cracking. “Wish I could go in with you.”
“You wait here,” Autie said and added with a wink, “Try to stay out of trouble.”
Both boys were beginning to grow tall, but Autie still enjoyed playing big brother. Tom was almost as tall as Autie, but Autie still reveled in his younger brother’s doting attention.
Had this been a normal Friday, the boys would have been looking to end their week with spirited fun. It had been a couple of weeks since their last good prank. The family was probably starting to feel safe. Time to strike again.
Tom and Autie were truly partners in unending shenanigans. Today, however, was serious business for the Custer boys. As they approached the wooden steps to the government office, Autie gave Tom a playful punch in the arm. “Think about that while you’re waiting,” Autie added.
Tom cringed, “You just wait.”
Leaving his brother behind, Autie crossed the street, opened the office door and strode through the foyer to an anteroom.
“George Armstrong Custer to see Mr. John Bingham,” he announced to the man attending the office door.
“Ah, yes, Master Custer. Mr. Bingham received your letter. He is expecting you. Go right in.”
Custer straightened his jacket and paused just a second to muster his fortitude. He thought to knock but instead opened the door and stepped boldly into his future.
“I am George Armstrong Custer, son of Emanuel Custer of Monroe, Michigan, and New Rumley, Ohio, and I want you to know I am a Democrat boy,” he announced as he entered the District Office of the local Republican Congressman.
The area had been a Whig stronghold, but with the growing tension with the South, the Republicans were gaining in popularity. Mr. Bingham, the District representative, gave the young man a quick once over, but he had no time to reply.
“I am a Democrat boy who wants to be a soldier,” Custer continued. “Democrat or Republican, I was meant to be a soldier.” Custer paused for a moment to read the representative’s reaction.
“I’ve heard about you, Master Custer.” John Bingham finally answered.
“Thank you, sir. I’m here to convince you that I am a Democrat that deserves an appointment to the United States Military Academy.”
“How is that, young Custer?”
“I’m figuring, sir, that the day is coming when you are going to wish you had a few Democrats on your side.”
Bingham tried not to laugh. “It may surprise you to know, young man, that I’m always looking for good Democrats to be on my side.” He continued, “I’ve heard some tales about you, Master Custer. Something about you and the local ladies!”
Custer was not taken aback. He knew his reputation. Everyone in the county knew him for his gregarious, fun-loving nature. Likewise it was well known that his family was staunchly Democratic and of moderate means. Custer had taken all of this into consideration when he set his sights on the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York. The prestigious appointment would surely impress Mr. Holland and his daughter. The days of being looked down upon by Monroe society folk would end without decades of groveling.
Now he stood in the office of the local political representative with his dream dangling within reach.
Custer took the direct approach.
“I have no more an eye for the ladies than any other young man, Mr. Bingham, sir. But I am supposing that if you are mentioning this today that you have heard from a Mr. Holland.” He paused again to measure Mr. Bingham’s reaction. Seeing none, he added, “I admit to being fond of his daughter, sir. For now, my eye is set upon becoming a soldier.”
Mr. Bingham leaned back in his chair and studied the youth standing before him. Custer was of moderate build for a still growing 16-year-old. He was obviously robust in physique. His wavy blond hair was tucked neatly behind his ears