Chapter 5

"Preparedness Creates Great Fortune."
~Boy Scout Motto, 177th Remove

"Terry had stowed the sonic neutralizer under the false bottom of an unassuming wooden box. No sooner had he done so, there was a rather hard knock at the door.

"C'mon Out." came the unfamiliar voice.

"Here goes. Right on schedule." Terry almost muttered aloud. With his and Madeline's dark complexion, he was almost amazed it didn't happen sooner. But, this was the first movement of a larger remove. It was expected to go with only two hitches:

1. The person expected to arrive was a local law man named Murphey. (Terry wasn't sure if that was a given name or a surname... didn't matter.) He had only one course of action which Terry would hear momentarily.
2. Everything was hinging on the fact that Judge Meijer's circuit was going to lead him directly to a town almost due east where the case of a certain two "Potentially escaped slaves" would be heard.

It didn't really matter as these two already had paperwork signed by Meijer in question demonstrating their freedom. Terry reached into the satchel packed by Madeline...

"Dammit!" Terry whispered, slightly panicked, "ONE MINUTE." Terry couldn't find the papers. "First the pod, then this!" he screamed internally.

"Boy, you got 10 seconds to open the door or we kick it down and charge you with the damage of this inn keeper's property."

"JUST GETTING MY BELT ON." Terry Stalled.

Suddenly there was murmuring outside the door. Terry didn't Care. This mission was about to go sideways in the most spectacular way. This was the first movement. It was supposed to go as planned and now it wasn't.

"DAMN! IT! Sakky! Did you move the papers? We're about to experience the real horrors of the early 19th century. We're about to become slaves." No sooner had the thought sizzled in Terry's mind, there came a softer knock.

"Terry, Hon. Open up. I showed these fine men our papers." Madeline was faking some over the top georgia debutant accent. "But they said they wanna see you first. They ain't never seen papers with a picture on them before." With Madeline's reassureance, Terry cautiously opened the door and forced a broad smile as he buckled his belt.

"Mister Houx." Murphey pronounced the last name "Hoax."

"It's pronounced 'Who,' like 'Who is there?'" Terry gently corrected.

"Sorry son. But I'm still going to need to take y'all with me." said the law man. He was accompanied by 2 other men who never let their scowls relent. "We've heard of freed slaves. But, to be honest, we've never met any. And we have to be sure." came the expected reply.

"I understand, sir." Terry resigned his answer knowing this was likely the closest he had ever come to failing a mission... and this time, except for the boy at the log two days ago, it was all on purpose.

"I just hope Baker gets to that judge in time." Terry cast as a quick prayer.

* * *

Baker and Chase both sat atop the small hill perched watching the eastern horizon on the road. This road was cut through the Carolinian frontier some time back. They were awaiting a certain judge who was traveling with a South Carolinian political theorist.

"Chase. I see a carriage coming this way." Baker whispered even though the coach was still mile away. "Let's hope those ruts you cut into the road do the job of ruining their wheels."

"They should. I covered them with enough leaves. It looks pretty natural with all these pin oaks around here. They'll never see it coming. Once we actually identify if John Calhoun is on that coach, we'll know it's go time." Then looking to the other side of the hill at their carriage he added, "I'll stay behind and sabotage their efforts in fixing their transportation, you get to the court house and play up your role as interim Chief Justice." Chase knew his job... He was an expert in making demolitions look like an accident. This time, it just required far less explosives.

"Hey, Chase. You got that picture of this Calhoun character with you still? I think this is him." After producing a small, printed photo, Baker confirmed, "Yep. It's him alright. Man, it seems like that pissed off look on his face was permanent. This dude is heinous looking. I'm going to get ready. Hey, once we see their wagon wheels bust up, we'll head down the back of the hill. You head their way around the hill... i'll take off to town once you're out of sight. They'll never even see me when I connect with the road." Baker put away his binoculars and stowed them in his bag. He was going to slide down the steep embankment of the back of the hill to get to his horse and head toward town.

* * *

"John, I know you are a proponent of a strong and capable federal government. I invite you to consider how such a government might impede the rights of individuals and states in the event laws are passed and militia is drawn up to occupy the dissenting states." raised Judge Alfonso Meijer. "These southern states have nothing if not for their agriculture. You must reconsider."

John Calhoun was not acustomed to such pressures to shift. But he was confident that the federal government would be capable of maintaining free and independent states while also generating laws which kept the federal government operating smoothly. Still, he understood he needed to attain a higher office to insure a more centralized control over some less cooperative states.

Unpersuaded, Calhoun denounced, "Yet it is by a strong federal arm we are most often protected from the powers of other nations. Or do you not remember the war only 12 short years ago? Would you that England would resume her interference and inquisition upon the coffers of our people? I cannot stand by while individual states hobble our..." Calhoun nearly bounced off the platform.

"WHOA!" Commanded the Judge who was driving the coach.

After a quick inspection, both Calhoun and Meijer concluded they would have to repair the axle and may indeed be in need of a wheelwright or at least a local cooper to insure the integrity of the work.

About 10 minutes into the inspection, Chase rounded the top of the hill. Baker had already set off to fill in as judge after seeing the severity of the incident from his perch.

When Chase was in view of the men, he greeted them "Ahoy there!" Which resounded strangely in Chase's ears. "Ahoy. Is all well? It looks as if you've had a bit of an accident." feigning ignorance as he was closer.

Calhoun addressed Chase, "Sir, you would not happen to know who the local wheelwright is per chance? We were to make court today but, I fear we will not based on these circumstances."

"I am not and I do not know the name of the local wheelwright as I am not from the area." Chase answered.

"Not from the area? And you travel on foot?" The judge interjected. "By manner of your dress, I judge you not to be a pauper."

"No sir. At least not presently. However my horse was killed; shot by something and pierced through with a bullet on one side and a large stone came out the other side." Chase recited his memorized story. "The power of whatever weapon was used makes me curious if it was the French or the British. A weapon that could make it's way all the way through a horse of that size would decimate a standing army."

"Was it a cannon? Maybe a cannon shooting a spear or a javelin?" inquired Meijer.

"Possibly. But there was no spear! And yet the entry wound looked as small as an arrow shaft." Chase pondered.

"It is quite simply some type of cannon adapted to shoot an arrow." Surmised Calhoun.

Chase was cautious not to exaggerate beyond his initial fabrication, "But the exit wound was like a cannon ball had blown a hole in the animal. The horse was not far from where I slept and I heard nothing."

"Perhaps you found disfavor with God himself. Still, if you can help us with this repair, we will be obliged to assist you to arrive in the next town where you may find better fortune." Calhoun removed his coat and looked on as Chase worked to assist in the repairs.

"It will not be quick." offered Chase as the Judge and Calhoun offered assistance. "I feel like a shade tree mechanic with no tools." thought Chase as he pulled out some rope with hopes to lash the axle together.

* * *

Baker was well on his way to the town. He had spent the several hours before their departure learning local laws regarding excaped slaves and slaves who had been granted freedom. There was the nuance of the slaves which had somehow purchased their own freedom. As he rode, he rehearsed the scripted statements in his head. The last two hours were spent in a mock 19th century court working through decorum and order. He had even had a coach walk him through the cadence of speech and process.

Baker was much more comfortable on the charging handle end of a detonation. But he and the boys were all blessed with the gift of gab. While Chase was more the salesman, Baker could fake the sophistication needed in a court. He hoped his uncle Jerry's legal genetics might be hereditary.

"We'll see." he whispered aloud as he neared the city's first few edifices.

He had slowed the horse to an easy gallup. The smell of the beast wafted past Baker's face.

It wasn't yet noon and a cool breeze fluttered the leaves against the wooded backdrop of the small town. The wooden sign reading identifying the town had been broken off so that only the dark red letter M was partially discernable. A post office was just ahead as he glanced at his small, paper map directing him to his court house. Folding away the map away into his coat pocket, he tipped his hat downward to be seen by as few as possible.

As he finally drew near the courthouse, Baker had been mumbling the memorized for today's movement. There were 5 cases over which the Judge was to preside. He had to assure that Terry & Madeline's was the first.

He had one guiding philosophy: As little contact and impact as possible. There was always the off chance any unaccounted interactions or overt missteps may alter future history in a way that could not be accounted.

"Remember, the butterfly effect is widely accepted as law in our line of work. There's a certain amount of lee-way one gets. You can walk by someone and have almost no impact. It's when you get noticed that the thread in the sweater can begin to unravel." he could hear Kyle Marinz lecture in his head as he recounted the number of steps it would take to get to the office of the court clerk.

"There it is!" he celebrated in his thoughts as he ducked into a small room marked Judge's Chambers.

Baker slowed his breathing. High stress situations were commonplace in his previous profession. "But this cat burglar spy crap is something new." accutely aware that his entire goal was to not get caught. He couldn't just snap a neck or pop off a double tap to someone's skull in this mission.

Folding and stowing his common clothes in his leather satchel, Baker slipped on his judge's vestaments.

"oops. I forgot to remove my modern undies." he quietly chuckled. "Better not leave those behind!" he continued, "Spandex wasn't invented until the 1980's! You'll cause a global catastrophe! The earth will split in half..." he mockingly muttered thinking how Sakky or Kyle would have reacted.

At the door came a soft rap.

"I didn't see you come in, Judge Meijer."

"Just in the knick of time, too!" thought Baker.

Then answering the voice, "Apologies, sir. Judge Meijer won't be here today. I'm filling in as a lower judge. I'm Judge Samuel Brown. Judge Meijer was delayed. I volunteered to cover some of the smaller, easier cases and continue all remaining for him to address tomorrow." Baker said with a bit of a lump in his throat. This was all on the fly. He just kept his cool and remembered, "Minimize all moments."

"Dammit. I was supposed to grab those cases and rearrange them. All I wanted to do was get my hands on the case information for Terry and Madeline... hear the case and take the records with me." Baker thought as he calmed himself. Then aloud, "Would you be a fellow and get the court records?"

Moments later, a the door opened enough for a hand to push through a stack of hand written papers onto a small doorside stand and closed the door almost as quickly.

Baker hurried to the stand and shuffled through the papers. A few seemingly civil matters: a dispute over a property line and another to find fault of who caused a horse to break its leg. Close to the bottom of the short pile was exactly what he was looking for: Potentially escaped slaves pretending to be freed... But there was no accompanying papers documenting the people. Only on the official charge was Terry's name mentioned.

Baker's stomach sank. In two hours, he expected to see both Terry and Madeline in the court. But this document showed only Terry's name.

* * *

"AGAIN!" shouted Kamitsu Yamamoto.

Sakai was 15 and her hands hurt. Her grandfather was an amazing martial artist. He had worked diligently to build his own MMA studio and philosophy. While he was never one to put his studio's name into the local competitions, he was confident his granddaughter would do well in the event she ever had to enter the octagon. However deep his pride in her, he never let her rest on her laurels. She was going to have to earn her ranks just like every single one of his students.

"Hai Sofu Sensei!" came Sakai's sharp obedient retort.

Each blow on the heavy bag landed perfectly. Each kick was expert. But Yamamotosan knew Sakai was at a stage of mastery where she was looking for razor thin marks of improvement. She had been studying some form of martial art since she was 3. Despite this being an MMA studio, Sensei Yamamoto still utilized the formal respect on the mat.

After a short while, Sakai's grandfather signaled for her to stop and called her to him. A brief bow and they both stepped off the mat. On the other side of that faded orange line, he suddenly became Grandpa again.

At 15, Sakai's height was already above her grandfather. While her gaze was downward when she spoke to him, he was the biggest man in her life aside from her dad. "Otsukara sama desuta! Domo!" she thanked him. A few minor greetings and she turned to her dad's car as she caught him waving to Grandpa.

"Good to see she survived another lesson, Ojiisan!" piped Kotsu Mbeywe out the window of the car. Then to Sakai, "Put your bag in the trunk. I have groceries in the back floorboard."

With a quick toss, her gym bag landed with a soft thud in the trunk of the antique car. She gently shut the lid and hurried around to the passenger seat and cast a final goodbye to her grandpa, "Love you, Sofu! Domo arigato goziemasuta!" as she plopped into the front seat and closed the door a bit harder than she meant.

Casting a sheepish grin at her dad's sideways glance, "Sorry. Are we headed home?"

"I need to stop letting you go to the gym. You're too strong... No, we need to head to the garage for about 20 minutes... 30 tops! The car is making that rattle again. I think I know where it's coming from. I just need Mike to take a look at it."

"Dad, I hate going to the garage." Sakky pouted.

"What?! You used to love going there with me." Kotsu replied incredulously.

"Yeah, when I was five. Cedric was always there and we played in the scrap parts piles. I'm an adult, dad!"

"BAHAHA! Adult my ankle! You're barely out of diapers. We won't be long. You know Cedric sometimes works there with his dad now?" Kotsu's eyes got a bit less cheery as the nostalgia faded, "That neighborhood needs help. It's gotten worse. Come to think of it, stay in the garage with me while we're there."

In a matter of moments, Sakky and her dad were sitting in front of a large, half open garage door. The faded gray building looked as if there was a memory of white on the cinderblock walls. The paved parking lot was more patch than pavement. The air was infused with ozone and motor oil. Sakky's pristine wardrobe was a stark contrast from the forgotten tradesman tones of the place. Even the people seemed to carry a grayness to everything except their bright, white teeth.

As Kotsu & Sakky rounded the corner and greeted Casey & Cedric Willard, the names sake of the "Willard & Son Auto Repair," his bright smile vanished. There were two, very angry faces staring down Cedric. The blood on Casey's forehead and shirt were immediately visible. That was all they had time to notice before the larger of the two men took 3 quick steps to engage with the tall, lean Kotsu.

While both men had guns, it seemed they were more intent on using sheer intimidation to extract their wants from the situation. Thankefully, both men aimed their ire directly at Kotsu & didn't give a thought to the tall, thin girl at his side.

Kotsu instinctively put an arm out to push Sakky behind him which she quickly dodged. Her heel shot up to the side of the man's neck as she lightly balanced herself on her dad's strong arm. In almost ballet motion, her momentum continued around following through the man who now had been knocked unconscous. The entirity of her weight, came down on one knee just above the man's knee cap. A muffled crack confirmed the broken leg. She continued her almost choreographed movements as she forced the heel of her hand backward into the man's throat with another, more crisp crunch and the light sound of gargling.

Her movements continued ever so gracefully as she saw the second of the two men now almost upon her. His hand had pulled a weathered pistol half way out of his waistband. Sakky aimed her elbow just to the right of his head. With almost all of her bodyweight, she heard the pronounced crack and subsequent scream of pain as his collar bone collapsed into his upper chest. She moved silently and specifically targeting the man's solar plexus with her other elbow. Her aggressor had begun to lose steam as he doubled over in pain. A quick twist and her foot shot up into the man's groin. Both of his hands shot downward and his chin jutted forward as he howled in pain. With an overt flourish, Sakky spun in mid air planting the wooden heal of her flats firmly into the side of the man's neck.

If anyone had been timing the exchange, it lasted 1 minute 48 seconds from the first landed blow til the moment Sakky's feet were firmly planted on the ground. Her heart was pounding. If anyone had asked her to name every move she made, she would have failed. Her limbs moved before she had a moment to consider what to do. She identified the target and struck. She knew her unassuming look made the men underestimate her... disregard her... see her as a victim.

She simply knew that the training she received from Grandpa was not for the ring. He taught her for survival.

"Never travel the path of the violent unless it is thrust beneath your feet. Then, you must travel it expertly. Your life may depend on it." she could hear Grandpa's voice in her pounding head. She yawned heavily as the adrenaline began to drain from her system.

In amazement, Kotsu, Casey, and Cedric all looked at Sakky with mouths gaping open. "Sakky! What on earth?!?!?" Cedric said as he rubbed his unbelieving eyes.

"Boy, you better be glad you didn't ask her out when y'all was kids. She'd have broke you in half." Casey now fostering a hint of a grin. "Girl. Come give uncle Casey a hug. You saved my life. Cedric's gonna go call the cops. Them white boys are gonna get what's comin' to them, now!"

* * *

Memories of the mat at the MMA studio were flooding Madeline's head. In her current history, her grandfather had died when she was 5. She had the memories of a fight that, to her mother and dad, never happened. Even Casey and Cedric were mere strangers to her. But that fight happened. She was now poised on the balls of her feet ready to spring if either of her two captors even attempted to open the door. A quick glance in the corner and she saw a broken broom. She grabbed the shaft of the broom and with a swift kick, she finished the job.

Just in time... now she was armed.

The sound of a few thumps and swats came from the other room. The floor began to creak slightly toward her door. The brighter evening sunlight suddenly was shadowed under her door. The door opened.

With a swift, fluid motion, Sakky "I'm not madeline, now." she thought sped the broken shaft of the broom through the air.

* * *

"What the hell!" Sakky exclaimed. She had stopped just short of connecting the blow.

"What the hell, indeed!" Baker exclaimed. "You coulda killed me!"

"How'd you find me?" Madeline said regaining her character and composure

"No real time. I had to get Chase to break out Terry. The court incident is a bust. We won't be doing that part. But if memory serves, the court case only had a slim chance of working. We never considered the two of you would be separated. Needless to say, I don't think those men wanted to interrogate you." by this time Baker & Madeline had walked by two unconscious men... one with his trousers down to his knees laying facedown in a smear of his own blood. A pronounced red mark across his legs and buttocks where Baker had apparently taught the man a lesson. "He was... uhm... he was on his way into your room."

"I barely heard anything. Those thumps were you?" asked Madeline

"Well, I did use a mini pulsor rifle. They'll never find a projectile because high intensity energy pulses only leave burns. They're both dead. I called it in and cleared it before doing any of this. I think we'll see some oddly acceptable repercussions from this. But I have to get back to Callan... I mena, Goerge. This interaction will have dire consequences on him if he doesn't have a resonance neutralizer." Baker suddenly more grave in his tone.

Madeline was familiar with a resonance neutralizer. Much like canceling sound, the waves made by time manipulaiton were frequently frought with unintended consequences. Much like her own memories of a grandfather who never lived past her 5th birthday, Callan was now in danger... but this was far more serious. Within the next 48 hours, the resonance of their actions would begin to take hold. If Callan didn't get a resonance neutralizer on his person by the end of 48 hours, any moment after that he could simply blink out of existance.

Callan wouldn't die. There would be no organ failure; no wounds; no immortal last words. One second he'd exist. The next... Madeline shook her head to stop thinking about it.

"How were these two men connected to George? To Callan?"

"There's no telling. One of them could end up fathering the great grand uncle of his dad's ex-girlfriend's mother's roommate in college or something like that. We gotta go, Sak... I mean, Madeline." Baker gently motioned towards the door.

Madeline grasped Baker's big neck and sighed in relief as she hugged him. "Baker. Thank you. You may have very well saved this mission... and, honestly, my life. I'm so glad Terry recommended you." Madeline backed away and squeezed Baker's arm.

With more resolve, Madeline continued,"I have an idea!"

* * *

The lawman opened opened the door to the cell. Terry was clearly agitated. "Your day in court is just about here. We received notice that the judge was late and we'll be taking you over there just as the shadows disappear."

"Where's my wife?" Terry surpressed a growel almost levitating off his bench.

"Those chains better be good enough to hold him" the lawman chuckled to the guard. "I'd hate to have to put some stripes on that back of yours. I'd hate to have that little girl of yours pay more dearly than you could imagine." he shot an overly amused grin towards Terry. "I think she fancied me, honestly. I think she'll forgit all about you when she comes to work on my farm."

Terry glowered at the men. Even at his best, he knew he'd have to survive this moment and find the appropriate minute to exploit their lack of situational awareness. These men were, at best, mediocre fighters... but even the most elite soldier is one well landed hit or shot away from never coming back. Like it or not, he was going to have to wait.

He was awakened from his violent reverie when he heard the footsteps of at least four men and seemingly heavier chains.

It was time.

* * *

The court room was mostly empty aside from about 10 people on the right hand side of the room.

"We got a special place for you coloreds" sneered one of the guards as he shoved Terry to the ground to sit behind the back bench.

"So this is what this feels like?" he mused. "I'm going to have fun breaking some necks."

"Stand up! Judge..." the announcement paused as the orator re-read the name, "uh... Judge Samuel Baker Brown is entering."

"Get up, you." the guard quietly barked "Your kind doesn't even know how to behave around a judge."

"Sheeee-yuht! Baker has no clue what happened. He's probably going to be as shocked as I am. I gotta signal him." Terry quietly conspired.

Baker walked in and sat at his rickety judge's lecturn just before he turned to survey the crowd.

"Good. Not a hint of emotion. Still. He's probably wondering where Madeline is." Terry was mentally narrating his idea of how this would go.

Baker smoothed out the papers in front of him and shifted a few. "Let's get started, shall we? I see we have a Benny Bondshell and Charles Melnack have a dispute over a horse... It seems you two..." pointing to two people on the front row, "are arguing about a property line."

Then, pointing to Terry, "And you're accused of being an escaped slave."

Terry saw his chance, "Your honor, my wife..."

"SHUT UP. That was not permission for you to speak." Baker surprised himself with his voracity.

"Boy, if there ain't one thing I hate is an escaped slave. But since I don't have a person claiming you, I'll have to put you on the block and sell you if you don't have good reason to be wandering around without your master's permission."

"But, sir. My wife..."

"What, is she still at the plantation? I don't give a damn. The law here says you claim you've been freed. What proof do you have." Baker hissed.

"I had paperwork, sir. I handed it to the lawmen. Is it in your papers and effects?" Terry downcast, but he knew Baker was playing a part... Terry knew that Baker could see his duo was only uno. He had all the faith that Baker was playing the part to get him out. He just wished Baker would throw him a line or two.

"I have no papers. Have this man set to be sold on the block at the second church bell. You look strong, you'll probably fetch a good price. Hell, I may bid on you myself!" Baker winked obviously then laughed. "Take him back to his cell!"

* * *

"That was clearly a signal. I just hope he hurries so we can find Sakky." Terry was clearly distrought. He was pacing the few steps his chains would let him move. The two hours felt like eternity stacked on eternity.

Eventually, the four men returned to chain him into the back of a wagon. Two other ebony toned men were already chained in the back of the open air wagon. Both men had pronounced features. They spoke to one another in a language he did not recognize.

"You from Africa?" then remembering these men likely didn't speak english and they probably had no idea what Africa was.

One of the men clearly had scars on his shoulders, arms, and neck that were visible in the tattered garments he was dressed with. Terry winced reflexively when he saw it. The short ride was prolonged since he was unable to speak to the two men.

"Men. These two are men. But they're being treated like Animals!" boiled the enraged thoughts of Terry.

The wagon came to a halt just in front of a small wooden platform.

* * *

Ben and his brothers loaded the last of the firewood in the cart. They had sold the last of their wares and hemp at market two days earlier.

"These Cotton farmers are beginning to get more demand than our hemp." Ben confided in the twins. "Still, we have just enough to memorialize our father."

"By Christ's holy name, if any one of you ever owns a slave... ever owns another man, I'll ask God face to face to send me back so I can put you over my knee!" His voice was often lovlier, but harsher in Ben's memory.

He still had time. It would take 20 minutes to get to the slave sale that was happening today. He was going to buy one and give him his freedom. If there was only one, he'd have to pray his money would stretch. He had to honor his dad. All his brothers agreed.

The road was short. The boys knew they'd have to cross the northeast leg of the creek which was a bit deeper than it was nearer the caves, they were at least glad that he spring weather was beginning to show its color. Even a few of the trees had begun to show hints of green buds. Ben chewed a twig and plodded just in front of the twins.

At the creek, the seven men disrobed looking around slightly embarrassed and hurried across the creek. The cold water flowed swiftly nearly knocking a few of them over. Only one dropped his clothes enough to get them slightly wet. On the other side of the creek, the men dressed themselves uncomfortably. Their wet legs binding in their trousers and their shirts seeming to twist against them.

"Only about a mile or so and we'll be there. We've got about a half an hour... maybe more." said Ben.

* * *

"Baker, Is that the kid from the creek the other day?" Madeline somewhat shocked to see him again.

With a glance, Baker nodded. "Mmm-hmmm. That looks like him. He's got a lot of folks with him."

The wagon was just coming into view. "I sure hope Terry's on this waggon." Madeline said.

Baker shushed Madeline, "You be sure to keep yourself hidden back here. You leave it up to ol' baker. Those other guys can't see you. I have no idea what they know about your whereabouts. And we can't afford them to think their plans didn't work."

The auctioneer stepped on the platform. "Good afternoon folks. We have a small offering today." motioning to the black men who were facing away from the crowd on the back of the wagon.

"I think I see Terry." Baker whispered to the coach he stole.

"The first offering we are selling today is one fresh off the boat from Charleston. His name is unpronouncable, so we call him John. He weighs about 130 pounds and he's as strong as an ox. We are starting our sale at $1,000. We prefer gold." The auctioneer sounded off.

"He's kinda slow for an auctioneer." Baker whispered to Madeline.

"Auctioneers were not the same in this time period." Madeline responded. "Is that Terry they're selling?"

"No." Baker replied.

The price steadily rose to $1454 and the first slave was sold.

"This turns my stomach. I wish we could buy them all and set them all free." said Madeline.

"I'm right there with you. But we're on a mission. Maybe the next mission will end slavery centuries earlier." Baker reassured her.

Baker was also highly uncomfortable. One of his great grandparents conveyed a story about picking cotton as a white man along side of the many blacks of his day. His single regret was working to fill a blanket with cotton only to find out that he was filling a black woman's blanket. She looked at the young man and let him have the entire crop and she began picking to fill his empty blanket. Baker remembered having the story recounted to him as his dying regret was that he did not give the blanket full of cotton to the older woman and let his youth serve her. He remembered seeing photos of his this man working in kitchens specifically targeting those who may have been that woman's grandchildren. He always looked to give away something as a form of repentance for that moment of transgression.

"This next slave has seen some use." the auctioneer used a long rod to lift the man's shirt revealing scars from whippings. "We think he's been reformed. His name is... well, we think it's Andrew... but he won't talk to us. For the risk, we're lowering his starting price to $900."

The auction went and the price went to $1600 sold to a menacing looking farmer about 45 feet to Baker's left.

"Our last offering for the day is one who calls himself the odd name of Terry. He's rather thin but he seems strong enough. But since we don't think he'd do well in the field. We are recommending him as a house slave. We will start his price at $600."

Ben raised his hand as the first bid. It seemed the remainder of the crowd was thinning out.

"Can I get $650? Anyone?" the auctioneer encouraged.

Baker offered his hand.

"750?" The auctioneer continued.

A hand in the front row.

The price continued to rise. "He's going as a house slave. He's supposed to be cheaper. How's he already at $1300? I may not have enough money!" Baker was getting a little concerned. "We may yet have to break him out." he continued to whisper to Madeline.

Ben was continuing to bid among the 3 remaining bidders. Baker watched as the price rocketed to $1700. "Who on the green earth is bidding him up so much?" Baker considered his exasperation, then aloud, "These two won't quit. And we don't have the cash. We could get more... but it'll take time. Let's approach the winner and offer to buy him at a higher price." to which Madeline resignedly agreed.

"SOLD to the young boys in the back. $1720!"

* * *

"What in the absolute hell!" Terry thought. "How could they come so ill prepared as to not rescue me from the slave trade. If I get out of this, I'm asking for a raise and some workers' comp!" Terry boiled.

Ben approached Terry with an oddly calm demeanor. Terry was somewhat oblivious to his approach as his irritation was beginning to show.

"Hi. Terry is it?" one of the Twins inquired. "We're going to take you to our farm. Are you hungry?"

Terry grunted and realized he was indeed quite hungry. Besides a few apples, he had forgotten to eat anything except the last meal with the team.

Ben spoke up, "You are going to find we aren't the masters you were expecting." and with that, they took him to their home still bound in the chains in which he was purchased. As they arrived at their home, the young men took Terry to a back barn where a few rudamentary blacksmith tools were.

"I apologize," offered Ben, "We would have let you out of your bonds sooner... but we didn't have any way to loose your shackles..."

Terry hadn't spoken a word. He was fuming. It was all he could do to not choke the life out of all 7 of these boys except his chains had been conspicuously tightened just as he set foot on the platform earlier.

Terry had a plan to escape tonight as these boys fell asleep. That would keep him from killing anyone and preserve his strength to regather with his team... and give Baker a gentle tap on the skull. "How could he!" thought Terry.

"We don't believe in slavery." Ben stated.

"Well, you sure as hell bought me as one!" Terry thought as he stared coldly at the young boy.

"As a tribute to our father who taught us to hate slavery, we set aside enough each year to purchase one slave to free them." Ben continued.

At those words, Terry's gaze warmed. Still suspicious, Terry asked, "Freedom? You bought me to issue me my freedom?" Not an emotional man, Terry was a bit surprised at the catch in his voice.

A half hour later, Ben had his the bonds removed and Terry could stretch his shoulders.

* * *

The crickets had just started to chirp and the sun was low. The knock at the door was soft. Malachi Cline was nearest the door and walked over to open it. A striking black woman was at the door shadowed by a massive white man. The dinner table fell silent.

Terry lifted his eyes from the bowl of water where he had been washing his face and hands. "BAKER! MADELINE! Am I Happy to see you!"

Baker interrupted, "If you will pardon me, I am willing to pay you whatever you'd like to release this slave to my ownership."

Ben and his brothers stood and stepped in front of Terry. "We will not be selling Terry. We purchased him. You can be on your way."

Raising the stakes, Baker continued, "This slave escaped from me. I have his wife here."

The boys all looked at each other with more uncertainty. "Would you be willing to sell us his wife?" they had no idea where they could get the money.

Finally Terry piped above the voices, "Baker. They bought me to grant me my freedom. You see. These guys are on our side."

Ben shot a look at Terry almost as if he had been played. "What? What side?"

Terry faced the brothers and said, "These people were traveling with me and... me and Madeline -- My wife. I'm more than happy to go with them. I would gladly let them reimburse you for your expenses on my behalf. I am not Baker's slave. I'm actually his friend... his boss." he concluded darting a look at Baker and Madeline.

Baker smiled "We have $1400 we can give you and we will gladly reimburse you more so you can continue purchasing slaves into freedom."

The chilly conversation began to warm as they exchanged final pleasantries with Baker, Terry and Madeline. "I have a feeling we haven't heard the last of your family, Ben." Terry patted Ben on the shoulder. Ruth came up and gave Terry a hug.

"Please don't go with these people if they're really slavers." pleaded Ruth.

Ben tussled her hair and assured her that their new friend was safe. "Truthfully, if you need, please contact us as fast as possible. We look forward to receiving the full amount so we can purchase again at the next sale."

Terry and Ben glanced at each other knowing there were stories to share. Then back at Ben, Baker and Terry assured Ben almost in unison that they would likely be in touch if anything to help him on his quest to end slavery one person at a time.

As Terry, Baker & Madeline hurried back to the rendezvous that evening, Baker with a renewed sense of urgency, "The two of you need to go retrieve your supplies. I'm sure you'll wanna catch up. I have to go find Callan... I mean George. Terry, you did bring a cache of resonance neutralizers, didn't you?"

Terry's eyes widened. "Yes. They're in the pod... normal spot." After a brief pause, Terry still in disbelief, "I don't think I have to tell you how close this was to a colossal failure -- of the Mission Ending variety of failure. We may need to have K.C. and Kyle... I mean, Felicia and Charles calculate if today's snafu will result in any recalculations... Still, I have a good feeling we're more fortunate than we expect." he said casting a glance at Baker.