Freedom's Pride: Path to Freedom - Book Two by Pegg Thomas

Author:Pegg Thomas [Thomas, Pegg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spinner of Yarns Publishing
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Bran scrambled onto the wagon and stood beside Mark Allen. “That it?”

“Looks like it.”

“Ain’t much.”

That might have been the understatement of the month. Mark Allen hadn’t expected a town like Pittsburgh, but Roberts Landing wasn’t even a village, much less a port. One dock thrust out into the river channel with two keelboats tied to it. The shoreline was dotted with smaller crafts beached or tied to trees. A cluster of houses huddled behind a line of storefronts. Several children ran barefoot along the riverbank, waving to those on the boat.

“This ain’t goin’ to make someone happy,” Bran said.

Everyone on both boats knew Faye wasn’t happy about moving west. Mark Allen had given the girl a wide berth since their last encounter that ended with their tentative friendship in shambles.

He’d seen her brushing away tears that morning. She hadn’t moved from the trunk and hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Paul. She’d looked like a lost waif, in some ways more pitiful than Bran when he’d discovered the boy. Bran had been self-assured and cocky. Faye seemed to have lost hope.

Gone was the feisty young woman who had tried to rationalize her refusal to answer her sister or even acknowledge her existence to the McClures. She’d been spitting mad at him then.

But he didn’t like thinking about that conversation.

About Gwen’s letters to Faye.

Gwen hadn’t contacted him. Surely, she knew he’d come to her as soon as he was free.

He’d promised.

The sailors cut loose the keelboat and poled both vessels to the dock. After the flatboat bumped against the wooden pier and was tied snugly, the sailors ran a ramp out and started shoving trunks onto the dock.

Bran followed Mark Allen to the horses. Paul was already there, stroking Storm’s neck. The black gelding tossed its head and snorted, restless from the long journey and made nervous by the sudden rush of activity.

Mark Allen untied Jughead and passed the rope to Bran. “Lead him down the ramp, and I’ll follow with Storm. Unless you would rather lead him yourself, sir,” he said to Paul.

“I had best tend to the women. I know the horses are in good hands with thee.” Paul gave Storm one last pat before striding toward the cabin.

“I would take these horses over them women any day.” Bran spat on the deck.

“Do not spit.” The boy had picked up some less-than-savory habits from the sailors. “Go on with Jughead now.”

Storm danced and tugged at the rope in Mark Allen’s hands. The black horse crowded behind Jughead, but the steady gray didn’t hurry or twitch an ear. His calm demeanor and Mark Allen’s soothing voice got them off the vessel and down the dock without incident. They tied both horses and returned for the teams.

“That ramp is too narrow to take them down side by side. You take Ben and I shall lead Buster.” The pair of heavy sorrels who pulled the wagon stepped off the boat without a fuss. Mark Allen and Bran returned for the carriage team, Dolly and Skip, the matched pair of black-legged bays.

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