Independence, Missouri. 1846
If Perry ran now, he could never return.
Inside the dingy hotel room, he pressed his ear against the door. Muffled laughter and faint piano music echoed up from the gambling hall below, but he heard no footsteps ascend the stairs. Leaping over to the wardrobe, he crawled in and pulled away a hidden baseboard. There it was. The small tin can with the caged canary illustration on the lid. His fingers popped it open. A sigh of relief. It was all there. Fourteen months of savings; Six hundred and twenty-seven dollars. He glanced across the room to the window, and the second story balcony beyond. This was it. This was his chance.
He stuffed the tin can into his leather satchel, along with a few books from the nightstand, and slung the strap over his head. Dashing to the window, he tugged up with all the might his thin, sixteen-year-old frame could muster. It lifted several inches with a shriek, then stuck. He lifted again. It wouldn't budge. Do the fates work against me now? He squatted under frame for leverage but a noise stopped him; footsteps thundering down the hall. Doom! Doom! Doom!
There was no time.
He dropped to the floor and slithered below the bed, tucking his feet under just as the door burst open. Perry's eyes followed a pair of ratty leather shoes storming in; his father's shoes.
"Lock the door!" his father whispered, racing to the closet. The door locked, then a dainty pair of bare feet in torn stockings followed. One of his father's sporting ladies, no doubt.
Perry watched his father kneel and rummage in the closet, sliding a luggage trunk out, and tossing clothes and books haphazardly behind. Then, the sounds of baseboards being pried and flipped.
"Spencer!" the woman whispered, "did you leave the window cracked?"
Perry's blood went cold.
"The money! I can't find it!" his father whispered back, ignoring her question.
"What? How is that-?" she paused. "You said it was here!" she whined.
"That little weasel! He must have known I would-" He stopped. "By god... if I get my hands around that boy's throat I will-"
"How are we supposed to get to St. Louis without that money?" she snapped, no longer whispering.
"It doesn't matter." Spencer replied, his hands scrambling to collect the scattered clothes, and stuffing them into the luggage trunk. "It's too late. We have to leave. Tonight. Right now!" His hands grasped for some socks near the foot of the bed.
Perry inched backwards. As the boy moved, his shoe made a soft squeak against the floor.
"Shhhh! I hear something." The woman said.
Perry froze in mid-breath; his eyes stretched wide. Doom-Doom! Doom-Doom! Thumped his heart.
"Someone's coming!" she whispered [https://img.wattpad.com/4517f9cb01382d7f2d071ec737fb1d4c1e38a8fc/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4464615851635a6b5543415f76513d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161306161653737393332623839383538323135393430312e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
"Someone's coming!" she whispered.
From the hallway, the floorboards pounded with heavy footsteps, growing louder and louder.
Spencer and his lady made for the window.
Then, outside the door, the footsteps went silent. The pewter handle jiggled.
"Don't move." his father whispered. The woman's feet froze.
Doom! Doom! Doom! A Fist pounded the door. For a split second, all was silent. Then the door smashed open with a deafening crack! Wood splinters rained down and slid across the floor. Perry watched three new pairs of feet enter the room. The leader wore vermillion slacks, with immaculate, black snakeskin oxfords. His followers were clad in dark trousers and scuffed boots, caked in mud.
"Taking a twilight sojourn?" the stranger hissed.
Perry's eyes shot over to his father's legs, which were stepping away from the window. The luggage trunk slowly come down to rest on the floor.
"I was just coming to tell you-" started his father.
"Where's the money?" interrupted the stranger, stepping forward. A thin, black cigarillo butt fell to the floor. The snakeskin heel snuffed out the ember with a swift twist.
"My son, he must've taken it [https://img.wattpad.com/e3aa430d28e788f73cf54c38d8a4e2d2ec54ae0b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f622d7a342d756861726a72326e513d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161313562383930396266333834363737323536383236322e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
"My son, he must've taken it...escaped out the window...couldn't have gotten far, if you just-" The cold sound of a pistol being cocked stopped his pleas.
The mud-caked boots stormed towards his father, and there was a struggle.
"Nothin," a brutish voice announced.
"Find the pup." said the stranger. "Shouldn't be hard. The boy likes the sound of his own voice." The boots marched out of the room, the thunderous footsteps fading away down the hall. The stranger remained.
"I need more time, I can still-" His father begged.
"Save your words for when they matter and Mr. McKinney may let you live yet. Now, let's go."
Perry watched his father's feet exit the room in slow resignation,
"You too flea trap." The man added, and the girl's stockings scampered out, followed by the snakeskin shoes.
All was still.
Perry tried to swallow, but his throat was dry as chalk. There is still a chance. I can still escape. But his body wouldn't budge. What if I am caught? What if I fail? In times of great stress, his thoughts turned to his idols: Homer, Shakespeare, Blake. A fierce Elizabethan voice echoed in his mind. Screw your courage to the sticking-place, and you will not fail!
Perry slid out from under the bed and rose, blood cold, head dizzy. He moved cautiously to the window and squatted under the frame. With every inch of power in his legs, he heaved grimacing. The window gave an agonizing shriek as it lifted. His face shot the door.
image [https://img.wattpad.com/63c01e46b575afd5b4b4e8acd53bec6490648d5f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6f3456386a4151626e677a5746513d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161323262643839393162363339303232343538383538382e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
No angry voices [https://img.wattpad.com/fdad73f5b7e1e702bc7a307203118b78fa781bae/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f2d614e65487132623776677234773d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161333338666135333236623632303334313136363237322e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
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No angry voices. No rushing footsteps. Perry sighed with relief. The fates haven't forsaken me yet.
Panting, he crawled out onto the balcony as the chill spring air bit at his cheeks. The sky above still held brooding clouds and the low, distant rumble of thunder. A cacophony of sounds echoed up from the street below; conversation, hooves through mud, the clanging of harness chains. Perry pushed his face through the slats of the railing to peer below. Street revelers parted to allow a man leading a mule and wagon to pass. Nearby, under a gas lamp light, some cowboys chuckled as they untied their horses from a hitching post. Perry inched out further to survey the gambling hall entrance below. Two dandies in fine suits flirted with ladies in frilly peacock dresses. Luckily, no goons.
Perry turned left, and slinked his way along the balcony until the banister ended at the edge of the building. His heart dropped. Before him, was a wide gap across the alley to the adjacent hotel veranda. Too wide? No other options and no time. He climbed up onto the handrail, legs wobbling. Gauging the distance one last time, he pushed his derby hat down tighter, inhaled deeply, and leapt.
Gauging the distance one last time, he pushed his derby hat down tighter, inhaled deeply, and leapt [https://img.wattpad.com/e17f28c33313cc332b0f5548292c798834fa3b0b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f42636358373967354c75755f63513d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161333932653332666465323731323235363130333839382e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
He sailed across the divide, the wind rushing past his ears, stomach dropping. He plummeted down onto the pitched roof landing with a heavy thud. Just as his feet slipped out from underneath his hand shot up and grasped the banister. He pulled himself up and over the handrail, and fell onto his back. He looked to the sky and took a deep breath. No time to rest. He rose and crept down the veranda. Reaching the end, he leaned over the railing. No where to go but down. Ten feet down. Too far.
He turned back and peeked into an open window of the hotel. In the soft glow of an oil lamp, a couple lay smooching in bed. He climbed in and tip-toed past, his faced scrunched in apprehension. As Perry's shadow fell across the couple, they turned to him in shock, their lips still puckered in kissy faces.
"Evenin," Perry squeaked, "I umm...lost my key." He added, patting his empty coat pockets. They stared back with mouths agape as he hurried out their door, closing it tight behind him. Reaching the stairs, he pulled his bowler hat down to shade his face and descended, slowing his pace so as not to draw attention. Down in the foyer, a gentleman was smoking a cigar while his wife adjusted her hair in a mirror. An old maid sat hunched over on a bench, snoring away.
Perry reached the landing, and the desk clerk raised his hand in greeting, but stopped with a confused expression, clearly not recognizing the teen as a guest. Perry casually tipped his hat.
"Hey! Hold that boy!" shouted a bare-chested man wrapped in a towel at the top of the stairs. Perry spun and dashed behind the stairwell, into the back of the hotel. He pushed through the kitchen door, slamming it into a cook on the other side.
"Owee!" She cried, lifting a butcher's blade in defense. Perry darted past steaming pots straight for the back door. From a blanket in the corner a bull terrier sprang at him like a slingshot, barking madly. Perry's heart skipped a beat, thinking he might be mauled, but he snagged a piece of roast beef from a cutting board on the counter and tossed it at the dog, who caught it in his mouth and stopped, chomping away in contentment.
Perry burst out the door into the back alley, the cook's protests echoing behind. He spun right and sprinted down the lane, then took a left at the corner. Then another right. But his eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness, so he didn't see the stacked crates and lumber jutting out. His body collided into the supplies with a loud crash and he plummeted forward into the mud, face down with a plopping smack; the wind knocked from his chest. Crates and scrap lumber tumbled down upon him.
A sloppy drunkard, urinating against a wall nearby, turned towards the commotion. He squinted his eyes, snickered at the accident, then turned back to concentrate on his stream. Perry raised his head with a groan. He started to rise out of the debris, but stopped. His eyes went wide. In the intersection ahead, the gangster's goons came into view; a grotesque and fearsome pair. One was all shoulders and neck, like a wart hog, the back of his shaved head resembled a cat's scratching post, scarred up from knife fights. His companion, with his greasy black beard, and belly like a whiskey barrel, eagerly spun a thick axe handle in his hand.
"Check down those alleys!" A distant voice barked. "I want that little piglet hog-tied and squealing back at the saloon within ten minutes!"
Perry stuck his face back down into the muddy slop. The rancid scent of stale urine and horse dung assaulted his senses. It took every ounce of his strength not to wretch. He held his breath until he thought his temples might pop. Flinging his head up out of the muck, he gasped for breath, the whites of his eyes contrasting with his muddy face.
They were gone.
He rose up out of the debris, and fled backwards into the alley, slipping through the mud, sidestepping street revelers. His lungs burned to take in the crisp air. As he slid around a corner into an intersection, a voice echoed from another alley.
"Let's check down here!"
Perry turned back towards the main thoroughfare. No. Too many people. Too risky. He was trapped. What would Odysseus do? He spied a wet saddle blanket draped over a fence. Nearby a few huddled winos were howling a bawdy ballad. Use your wits!
He raced to the blanket, tugged it free, and spun it over his head and back. Tucking his bowler hat under his armpit, he scooped up an empty liquor bottle from the mud. Just as the goons arrived into the intersection, Perry threw his arm over the shoulder of the nearest crooning boozer and joined in their song, ad-libbing the lyrics. The goons approached, glancing at the revelers. Perry tilted his muddy face up while singing, and lifted the bottle above his open mouth, as if to shake out the last drops of the whiskey. The goons marched past. Perry continued his charade, until, from the corner of his eye, he saw the thugs re-enter the thoroughfare, and disappear amongst the crowds. By now the surrounding drunks had stopped singing, and were glaring at Perry, who was trailing off in his gibberish song.
"Who in Jehovah's hell are you?" one slurred, yanking Perry's arm off his shoulder.
Perry cast off the blanket, spun and sped away. He raced deeper through labyrinthian alleys; past mud-spattered mules and snarling street dogs, past vagrants and charlatans, past painted calico queens and alley cats, past torn tents and blazing bonfires, finally fading into a pewter haze of hickory smoke.
He had cast his die. Now, he was something he had never truly been before; alone.
Now, he was something he had never truly been before; alone [https://img.wattpad.com/a127e06c8e737ee0f6a46b75a40523c699342b7f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4b625355716e4971465a4f504e513d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161343165313761306666613135363630393038373236332e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
***
The following morning, Nelly Buckner, a bone-thin girl of seventeen, atop an emaciated black Morgan horse, sat before a crooked wooden sign staked beside the road. She cocked her head in puzzlement. She couldn't make sense of the words, but the shapes of the letters intrigued her. On her left, an ancient man; head down, bible tightly clasped in hand, shuffled along the road leading into town.
"Scuse me Sir, but what's this here sign say?"
The man stopped, and looked up with rheumy eyes. "Well gal," he replied, pointing a shaky finger at the words, "it says: Welcome to Independence, Missouri."
Her eyes widened, as the man continued past on creaking limbs. "Independence!" After thirteen days of avoiding main roads, trudging through forest overgrowth, and sleeping in thickets, they had finally made it.
Nelly's thoughts turned to two weeks prior, when a young black slave girl, Haney, had found her and her horse, Teddy, sleeping in a dense growth of Maples near the Cumberland River. Haney had shown Nelly kindness; bringing her cornbread and onions from her master's house. As they ate, Nelly told her that she had left home, and was aiming to start over. Haney had said that if she were free, she would run to 'In-pendess, Missouri'. She heard Americans were starting over there, and it didn't matter your skin color, your money, or past troubles. Well, that sounded just grand to Nelly. She asked Haney to join her, but the girl was too afraid to attempt escape, choosing to return to the plantation.
So, Nelly pushed on alone, heading Northwest for the fabled town.
And now, here she was, the potential of a better future unfolding before her like the muddy rutted road. Nelly peered past the wooden sign, past a field of leveled timber stumps, past the vast fences of a cattle stockyard, beyond the warped wooden huts and ramshackle tents, to the town itself. A few strands of black smoke rose languidly above the skyline. She made out a large white steeple rising above a few two-story brick buildings. But mostly it was a vast, horizontal stretch of wooden buildings, where tiny throngs of people, horses, mules, and oxen milled further down the thoroughfare. A real modern western town! In truth, she had no real purpose in town. No friends. No family. No direction. But then, those things didn't exist for her back in Tennessee either.
The early morning air still chilly, she tugged the ratty blanket around her shoulders, and took a deep breath. "C'mon Teddy," she whispered, and with equal parts excitement and nervousness, tapped him forward with her heel. "Let's go see what's what."
" [https://img.wattpad.com/61d68a0bb515dba2f5d6569d09e6b5164e3826a1/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7a66716a697956527542706743673d3d2d313439383334303230302e313830623161363130303332363165343932363636363435393539302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]