The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson

 

Copyright© 2017 – Nicholas Hall

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

"Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob, and degrade them, neither persons, nor property will be safe."

(Frederick Douglass)

 

Young Witnesses to History

 

With Malik sent off to Rossville, where we currently received our mail, I anxiously awaited the return of Caleb and Lieutenant Andrews and their report on the eviction of our tenants. Malik was instructed to arrange for someone to deliver our mail at least three times per week (to be adequately compensated for the effort) and was invested with sufficient cash to secure subscriptions to two newspapers so we might receive some relatively recent news concerning current United States and world events. The next few weeks were going to be turbulent to say the least and I really didn't want to rely on my memory of history to steer us through the tossed and tumbling seas of politics and upheaval!

I was in fear my charade, using Captain Randolph and the mistaken belief I had been, but no longer was now sinde the war was ebbing in most parts of the country, some sort of government secret agent, would either end soon or take on a somewhat different dimension if I didn't have access to the present day, if limited, news media!

President Lincoln would be lying in state at the U.S. Capitol by now and his body would be transported by train, in a round-about route, to Springfield, Illinois for burial on May 4. The hunt was on for the conspirators and by the time Lincoln was buried, all would be accounted for, either dead or alive! Booth, the assassin, would be shot dead near the Rappahannock River on April 26. By that time Lincoln's funeral train would be wandering toward Illinois via New York and other states. All of this I knew from history, but didn't dare reveal that to those around me. It would be far better if they could be informed through the newspapers and telegraph system. Captain Randolph could keep me informed, if he had access to the telegraph which I most certainly thought he might.

My contemplation was interrupted by Chapman entering my office with some bills he wished me to pay. Looking them over, I casually asked, "How many days from here to Springfield, Illinois, say, from Keokuk?"

"Oh," he replied, "it could be made in three or four days or less if all went well, I should think. Why would you wish to know?"

I felt he was somewhat apprehensive about asking me; perhaps he mistakenly thought I was about to bolt his employment or return to my "spy" occupation, so I answered, scratching my head as if pondering my answer, "Just wondering if that's where they might bury the President!"

"I should think so," Chapman answered back, just as curious, "it makes sense, since he was a U.S. Senator from there and lived in Illinois all those years before becoming President," and walked back into his study.

The bills were quickly recorded in our ledger books and bank drafts prepared for payment. The drafts were similar to my centuries' personal checks only a little more complicated. I or someone would have to make a trip to the bank in order to have them countersigned or verified since there were some creditors who wouldn't take a personal draft against a bank account unless they believed the money was actually there and in the amount of the draft. There were some banks that would "discount" drafts and only pay a certain amount on the dollar. Chapman preferred to pay cash whenever possible and in these times, I really didn't blame him! Although he was the one who normally did the banking in Keokuk, he made it clear I'd soon be doing so in his place.

There was a plethora of problems I had to deal with before fussing about banking. With the influx of new settlers and, if my calculations were correct, the additional nine hundred acres of ground Chapman purchased, I'd have to visit with Hannibal concerning how we were going to utilize the property. I'd planned on the four hundred acres of bottom land and the house Chapman purchased Gabriel was going to occupy, but I hadn't anticipated the additional five hundred acres of high ground with the coal vein in it. If we planned correctly, all the new settlers would have work in some form or another. If, and only if, we were able to purchase more farm ground, we could place families on those purchases as well.

Those opportunities to make purchases would only become available if we were made aware of them and acted quickly! If I remembered my history correctly, Johnson's presidency would be tumultuous, with controversy, and even impeachment, without conviction. The problem was, I didn't "know the territory" to quote a line from Meredith Wilson's "Music Man."

A rap on the door frame to my office announced the appearance of Lieutenant Andrews and Caleb. From the way they stood in the door frame, close to each other, risking every opportunity to touch each other as they waited for me to bid them entrance, it was very obvious to me, a gay man, they'd both been pleasantly and frequently fucked the night before, giving as well as receiving!

Giving them a wave and smile to enter, Lieutenant Andrews reported, "Everyone moved out in an orderly manner, Sir!" and snapped me a salute which I quickly returned, adding, "No need to salute me Lieutenant; you'll notice I wear not the uniform of an officer."

Andrews blushed slightly, replying apologetically, "Sorry for that Sir, just Captain Randolph indicated because ..."

I cut him off abruptly, saying, "That's over now," adding to the mystic and deception I'd created surrounding my previous occupation and the reason for my residency here in the first place!

Caleb saved the day when he spouted out, "James, I mean Lieutenant Andrews, says his enlistment is over in two months and was wondering if he could stay on here afterwards?"

Looking at Andrews, my curiosity suddenly aroused, "What did you do in civilian life, Lieutenant?"

"I was a teacher!"

"Where might that have been?"

"I taught abroad until three years ago and managed to return to the United States through Canada and enlisted then."

"What," I questioned, "no West Point?"

"No, Mr. Jeansonne, my rank is a field promotion, a brevet rank, and I have no desire to continue a career in the military."

I smiled coyly at him, letting him know very well why he wanted to stay here and emphasized my knowledge by adding, "But you very much want to continue your relationship with Caleb, don't you?"

Andrews really blushed this time and Caleb giggled out, "See, I told you they's nothing to worry about!" grabbed his lover by the arm and led him from my office.

I could solve a couple of problems if Andrews were to stay, which I had no doubt he would; I would gain a new teacher for our growing school and an agent for me, one who could seek out investment opportunities for Chapman. Andrews' travels and military career would be extremely valuable to us since there were contacts he'd made and backgrounds he knew I, as a stranger to this century, would not have. It could be a win-win situation for all of us!

Two days later, with Captain Randolph's permission, Lieutenant Andrews moved into the last spare bedroom, across the hall from Chapman's, in the main house and from the look on his face after his first night and the odd manner in which he walked, there was no doubt Caleb gave him a hot, vigorous, and satisfying welcoming "Open House!"

Benjie, Henri, and Antoine were hustling around finishing chores before leaving for school; Hannibal and Celeste Doucet were just finishing their breakfast coffee and the last of the field hands were fed their breakfasts, their noon lunches packed, and now stood waiting for Malik, Caleb, Isiah, and Absalom to join them. The four of them, along with Jefferson were receiving last minute instructions from Hannibal concerning the planting and plowing tasks he wanted completed, if possible, before the day was over.

Watching the proceedings and listening to the voices, reminded me we still had to feed the orphan children Reverend Miller brought with him before they would have their classes in the front parlor of the main house. Reverend Miller would conduct those classes for this charges as well as any of the other children of the new arrivals. I couldn't see enrolling any of them in the school the boys attended since there might be strong possibility they'd be moved if we could find homes for them. Besides, there was only a month or so left in this school year!

Barely a month had passed since my unintended and befuddling step back in time and arrival at Chapman's. In that time I'd come to realize great pride, loyalty, and love for the residents and especially for Benjie and Henri. Crawling into bed with those two sweet boys, enjoying sinking my shaft into first one and then the other before sleep, cuddled up with them during the night, and enjoying their love and company throughout the day seemed more than I could ever hope or ask for!

Yet, I was here, unexplainably so, and the pride as I watched the black community gathered at the Farm, talking openly without fear of reprisal from those who would denigrate them, free of the physical torment and degradation of slavery and outright hostility demonstrated by others who say as less than human, almost overwhelmed me emotionally! Southeast Iowa had, I knew from my limited study of history, been a "land of Goshen" for those people of color escaping from slavery and those free people of color who wanted to start a new life, settling in and around the first available opportunities provided as soon as they crossed the Des Moines River or Iowa border. As a result, black farmers and workers in this part of the state were not uncommon, but barely accepted by some of the white community!

Although the black residents were a long way from "true freedom" as I knew it, it was better than it had been for them and would improve even more over time. However, racial segregation and racial prejudice would still run rampant in many parts of the country up to and including my own times. I vowed, as long as I remained here and if and when I returned to the twentieth century, I'd do all I could to maintain and grow this sense of free community for these, my friends and neighbors!

The days seemed to fly by; the day we received the news of the death of John Wilkes Booth, the cowardly assassin who killed the President, there was great jubilation, yet sadness, knowing he would not stand trial and answer for his crime!

It was the same day the newspaper announced President Lincoln's body was heading toward Illinois for burial on May 4 following the route he'd taken in his campaign. Thousands of people were lining the tracks, standing silently as the funeral train carrying his body passed slowly by, allowing each person to honor and mourn the loss of the "Great Emancipator."

It was also the day I persuaded Mr. Chapman to take Benjie, Henri, Antoine, and Jubal to Springfield so they could stand witness to the historic event and have it burned forever into their hearts and minds. He hesitated not one moment to decide to do so, but insisted I take them to Keokuk to catch a train and also make arrangements for me to act in his absence in the legal and financial affairs of this enterprises. The next day, Jefferson and I, loaded with a beaming Chapman, four very excited boys (having never traveled before much beyond the boundaries of the Farm), headed to Keokuk, the bank, a lawyer's office, and the train station.

With the paper work all finalized, the voyagers on their way, Jefferson and I decided to stay the night, do our shopping in the morning, since we had a considerable list to fill, and head home. It was a really fun night for both of us! That prodigious prod of Jefferson's wiggled and squirmed it's way past every barrier my body seemed to have and finally, after a pleasant and vigorous pumping, stimulating both my prostate and his desire to cum, with several strong, butt thrusting, cock-swelling spurts, deposited a copious load deep into me, settling there to be absorbed, except for those white, thick remnants which leaked and dripped out around his long, thick, hard shaft while still embedded in me! I swear, there is no one having a bigger cock than Jefferson or the amount of seminal fluid produced from those low-hanging walnut sized balls of his. Once he starts cumming, one wonders if he'll ever stop spewing into your intestines!

Captain Randolph, in addition to his regular patrols, was busy platting out our new little community to be known officially as "Chapman's Corner." His presence and the regular patrols of his mounted infantry kept the peace for us in our area. Other parts of our country were not so fortunate, since the newspapers printed vivid stories of vandalism, attacks on business, arson, and even murder as people vented their hostilities and anger over the death of the President. It was a difficult time our country was experiencing and it would be some time before it finally subsided into a sometimes restless peace!

We were in the height of planting time; hard work and long days were common if, as Hannibal would remind us, the crops were to be planted on time to ensure a good growing season and abundant harvest. The men were tired, hungry, and filthy with the dirt and dust of the fields when they came in at night. Curiosity abounded over the past few days as they watched Hiram and the two men we found skilled at metal work and general repairs, help him assemble the raised wooden, black panel arrayed with black pipe, and attach piping from the water tower to it, and then to a large cylindrical metal holding tank above the shower house. The panel was tilted at an angle to catch the most of the sun's heat as possible.

It may have looked odd to most, but to me it was a simple solar hot-water heater and would provide sufficient hot water, depending on the sunshine available, for the men to enjoy the pleasures of a hot shower at the end of a hard day's work. The first time the men lined up to take their showers under the new contraption (with a certain amount of misgivings but they trusted me, so it seems), I spent some time instructing and showing them how to adjust the showers with the valves attached to the pipes leading to each, so the most comfortable mix of hot and cold water was dispensed. I also had to caution them to first get wet, shut off the water, soap up and scrub, and then rinse so everyone would have hot water to use.

Jefferson asked if it would be permissible to soap and wash each other, in order to save water and speed things along (with tongue in cheek I assumed), I naturally approved, yet took him and the other four aside and suggested if they were going to fuck each other, they might want to wait until the other men were done, since I was uncertain how they might react. The four of them agreed with a knowing and understanding smile!

All of our men loved it! I set up a schedule so the women and children could shower at separate times. None of them cared what the device was we'd constructed, it was a hot shower and pure luxury! Reverend Miller really didn't feel comfortable washing the little boys under his charge so Jefferson and I took care of that. We both found it extremely important to make certain their butt cracks and little penis's were well scrubbed, although neither of us took advantage of the boys sexually. "Better to wait," I advised Jefferson.

Captain Randolph thought it was a great contraption, but asked, "What if the sun doesn't shine? What would you do for hot water?"

I had an idea, but before I could implement it, the next day Captain Randolph presented me with a drawing of a hot water heating system involving the use of a cast-iron coal or wood-burning stove with pipes running through it. Cold water came in one and through convection, hot water flowed out to the holding tank where it could be used for showering. A roofed shelter, with a chimney opening, was designed to protect the stove and wood or coal from the elements. He even included designs for extending the water system to the main houses and for cold and hot water storage tanks in them. How he determined how deep to put the piping to avoid frost, I'll never know, but I do know the system worked well for a number of years.

The additional piping and stove meant another trip to Keokuk, but we needed seed, feed for the stock and chickens, and household food items as well so I sent Absalom, Malik, Caleb, and Isiah, with Lieutenant Andrews as an escort. There were those in the area who felt a black man was not quite a man and I wanted to take no chances in these turbulent times. Those sorry souls who felt that way would never realize they were the ones less than a man because of their prejudices and outright discrimination and hate!

The pace in the spring planting season was more hectic than I, as a city boy from the twentieth century, ever could have imagined! I had no clue how difficult, how arduous, how important, and time consuming preparing and planting field after field of crops could be. In addition, to add to the activities around the Farm, we now had wagon loads of building supplies arriving so we could begin construction of adequate housing for those families who'd determined they wanted to reside permanently on the land Chapman promised them. Of course, there were others, who merely wanted to work until they could move on.

In all of the hub-bub and activities, I failed to pay close attention to the newspapers. Late one evening, reading by lamplight in my office, I noticed a small article concerning the explosion of the Mississippi River side-wheel steamboat USS. Sultana. According to the news dispatches, the Sultana, bound from New Orleans to St. Louis was overloaded with passengers and cargo, including livestock and federal troops returning from Confederate prison camps, exploded and burst into flames approximately seven to nine miles north of Memphis on April 26. The estimated deaths from the boiler explosion, subsequent fire, and drowning of passengers was around eighteen hundred with seven or eight hundred survivors, many severely burned.

Ordinarily, this event would have been headline news, I thought, but the death of Booth overshadowed it. Other than acknowledging the sad and tragic death of so many innocents, I spent little time pondering what effect the Sultana disaster would have on us at Chapman's Farm.

One of the first days of May, after a particularly warm, almost humid night, after breakfast, Madame Doucet announced she was organizing a "mushroom hunt" for the children and any of the ladies who could free themselves. When I asked the type of mushroom they would be hunting, she informed me they would be the little "morels" or spongy looking ones that popped up on the forest floor after warm and humid weather in the spring. She claimed they were great fried or, when dried, added to food during the off season for flavor.

Again, as I have in the past month, I had a sense she knew more about the species than she desired to let others know. Those who settled at Chapman's Farm when they came north, made yearly spring outings to gather the little fungi in great quantities, filling baskets full. The fungi were then soaked in salt water to rid them of bugs and other uncleanliness, strung on strings, and hung to dry either in the sun or in the attics.

"There are other edible mushrooms we gather in the summer and in the fall," she informed me, "but these are the easiest to identify and our favorites."

I accepted her invitation to join the expedition and asked Hannibal to free up Malik and Caleb to accompany us and drive the wagons. I made certain I was armed with my pistol and my knife, a habit I'd established shortly after the death of President Lincoln, as a precautionary measure. I asked Malik and Caleb to come armed as well. Malik favored a short-barreled double barreled shotgun which he carried in a sling across his back whereas Caleb, although arming himself regularly with a similar shotgun, preferred the newer repeating rifles which he used with skill and accuracy. I attributed this to the training he received from his lover, James Andrews, who, I'm certain, provided a round, puckered target for Caleb to "shoot his gun" into on a regular basis!

Children, women, and baskets were loaded into two wagons and we traveled to the lowlands near the Des Moines River. It was a fun time and the mushrooms were abundant and good-sized. Malik and Caleb cautioned us to be wary of rattlesnakes since they also made their home near the river areas. We found, in addition to the mushroom, an abundance of wood ticks and made every effort to pick them off before the burrowed in too deep.

Our entourage returned to the Farm before lunch and Celeste insisted we all shower before we ate in order to not only clean away the grime from the forest, but rid ourselves of any ticks we may have missed. The women went first and after they were done, Malik, Caleb, and I took the boys in for their showers. I found only a couple on the boys I checked and Caleb found none on the ones he scrubbed. There was one boy, Thomas, if I remembered correctly, I'd previously assumed to be about Benjie's age, but now, on closer examination as Malik soaped and scrubbed him, was apparently a little older. The lad was undeniably adorably cute with a set of dark eyes and sparkling smile that would melt your heart! His balls had begun to drop and his penis growing, a sure sign of the beginning of puberty and early adolescence. He just didn't seem to be able to get close enough to Malik and Malik certainly wasn't pushing him away. I'd noticed the two of them earlier in the woods, talking and harvesting mushrooms together. Now, as Malik was washing the lad's head and face, the boy shyly reached forward and down, when he thought no one was watching, and gently encased Malik's dick in his hand!

After dinner that evening, as I sat on the veranda or porch of the main house, enjoying a glass of wine, Lieutenant Andrews rode up and informed me Captain Randolph was going to Farmington the next day and wondered if I'd like to accompany him.

You bet I would! It was Farmington, Iowa Annie Wittenmyer began her orphan's home and from there to Davenport, Iowa, the place where I'd been left as an infant. I wanted to meet this fantastic woman who, unknown to her, affected my life so greatly!

To be continued.

***

Thank you for reading "The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson" – Chapter Seventeen.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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