control and quickly made his way out of town.
“What’d that man say to ya, Son?” questioned Jake, as he embraced and comforted him.
For several moments, Homer could say nothing but finally mumbled, Tm all right, Papa. He just scairt me a little. I’ll be fine. I don’t like that man. He’s got too much hate in his eyes.”
“Lott, let’s get the chill’un and women and go on home. I don’t feel like waitin’ for the stage,” Jake said.
“This has ruined my afternoon, too,” answered Lott who had slumped on the store steps to calm himself.
John ran up to the Walker’s house to get Sarah and Hatta and told Rebecca and the others what had happened.
The women hurried down to the wagon where they found Lott, Jake, and the children quietly waiting.
About half way home, the children asked if they could get off and take the shortcut through the woods. Away they ran, jumping and screaming like children who have been kept in the house too long.
The wagon slowly moved up the road with neither man saying a word. Finally, Sarah broke the silence.
“Boys, what did you two get into down there?” asked Sarah, nudging up to Lott the way she would when something was wrong.
Lott pulled the wagon to a sudden stop and turned to Jake. “I acted a fool down there, didn’t I? I was meddlin’ in someone else’s bus’ness, and I could have got you killed. I pray you’ll forgive me, and I ain’t going to meddle no more.”
“Lott, you hate slavery, and you got yore own feelings about it. I don’t care much for it neither, but for that Talbert, he’s got a lesson in manners comin’ some day, and I’ll be delivering the sermon to him. And for the apology, I owe you a thousand that I ain’t yet extended.”
As the wagon crept slowly toward the house, Lott told what had happened in town.
“Jake, I want you to stay out of Talbert’s way. That man sounds like he’s nothing but trouble. I don’t like for you to fight and hurt people, and I don’t want nothin’ to hurt you either,” Hatta said.
The women got off at the front steps and the brothers continued to the barn to unhitch the wagon.
“Jake, I heard that Bible verse that you was tellin’ Mister Walker ‘bout. You know, about drinkin You sure it’s in that verse in Matthew?” questioned Lott, impressed that Jake knew the scripture.
“Hell naw, I just made it up. I thought it sounded kind of good. Didn’t you?” laughed Jake.
“Jake, the Lord’s still got a lot of work to do on you ‘fore he can take you home. I just hope he gives ya the time it’s going to take,” replied Lott grabbing his brother playfully around the neck in an attempt to wrestle him to the ground.
“Well, it may take a while, but he sure got a helluvah job to do on that Talbert, and I might not give the Master enough time to reform that bastard, ‘specially if’n he messes with my Homer again.”
The next morning was Sunday, so the Wilsons were in no hurry to get up. The adults usually had a cup of coffee on the porch before the men and boys fed the livestock.
Lott, the last to arise, noticed Jake and Minsa down at the corral lazily looking over their prize horses.
Through the years, Minsa had adopted some of the white man’s ways. He still wore his hair long and often braided it back to keep it out of his face. But, with the shortage of deer and other wild animals, he now wore shirts and trousers made from a blend of cotton and wool. He especially liked red calico shirts. Most of the time he was barefooted; otherwise he preferred the leather moccasins worn by his people.
Minsa still lived with his wife and mother-in-law on the section of land he had chosen years before, but he had not tried to cultivate it. Instead, he worked for the Wilsons, taking care of their hogs and cattle which roamed the woodlands, and he took a special interest in Jake’s horses. Jake’s size still made it difficult for a horse to support his weight while racing, so Minsa who was much lighter and also an outstanding athlete became his substitute. Minsa had been taught the skills that could make him a champion. It was a wise move, because Minsa was excellent with horses and seldom lost a race.
Jake also encouraged Homer and let him race along with Minsa. Having two horsemen in a race doubled their chance of a victory.
Meanwhile, Lott had taken his coffee down to the corral to see what Jake and Minsa were discussing.
“Men, you up mighty early on this Sunday morning. You must be plannin’ some kind of campaign or sump’n,” stated Lott, making small talk and not expecting much in return.
“Well, big brother, we just lookin’ at these horses, and we think they’s just too short to keep up the winnin’. Sooner or later someone’s going to bring in some of them longlegged thoroughbred horses from up North and when they do, our winnin’ days is over.”
“They look good to me, and you boys has been bringin’ in the money on them races. What more do you want?” replied Lott.
“Look at them close. The best we got stands at fifteen hands tall, and Josh Clearman brought in one from up North a while back that stood over sixteen hands. He almost beat us,” Jake said, leaning over the top rail of the fence to study the horses more carefully. “He could’ve beat us if’n he knowed how to ride.”
“So, what are you tellin’ me, Jake?”
“We tellin’ you we got to get bigger horse if’n we is to keep on winning,” interrupted Minsa.
“Jake, me and Minsa has been thinkin’. If’n we had one of them thoroughbred horses to breed with the strong, quick horses we got now, we can keep on a winnin’ races. So what we got in mind is as soon as we get the cotton and corn out of the fields and get the fall hog killin’ done where we got the meat in the smokehouse, we goin’ North,” Jake said. “Me and Minsa got enough money saved to buy one of them animals and if’n we don’t, we’ll sell the horses me, Minsa, and Homer will ride up there on to take care of the rest,” explained Jake.
“Jake, how do you know where to go and who to see?” asked Lott knowing his brother was serious.
“We met a Mister Sam Jacobson from Tennessee a while back when we was over in Union at a dogfight. He had heard of our horses and we kind of got to talkin’ horse bus’ness. He said if’n we ever got up that way, he’d show us some of the finest horse flesh we has ever seen, and he even had some contacts up in Kentucky,” continued Jake.
“Well, you two is grown men and if’n that’s what you want to do, it’s fine with me. Just be sure to be home by spring plowin’ or we could have problems,” replied Lott. “And you sure better take care of Homer. He ain’t never been that far from home.”
“Forgot something,” interrupted Minsa. “I pick up letter several days ago at Walker’s store for you.”
He took a folded and crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it to Lott.
“Jake, this here’s Mamma’s writin’. Wonder how she’s a doin. Wonder if’n sump’ns wrong.”
He
