Lost Lamb: Chapter 2
by Tami B.
Disclaimer: The following work has been written solely for the enjoyment of fans and not for monetary profit. The rights to the characters initially created for the Daniel Boone series belong to 20th Century Fox and Fess Parker. All other characters are of the author's own creation. No copyright violation is intended.
Four days from the moment Israel became a bondservant, the farmer and Israel arrived at the farm. The farmer’s wife emerged from the cabin to find a young man in the back of the wagon, blindfolded and chained. She had prayed that her husband wouldn’t actually go through with buying a bondservant, but he obviously had. “Arthur, did you have a good trip?” she asked pleasantly.
“Yeah,” Arthur answered, passing her as he made his way to the back of the wagon. “It was quiet for the most part except when the boy decided to talk.” Ripping the blindfold from Israel’s eyes, Arthur moved to unchain him from the wagon.
Israel squinted his eyes in the bright sunlight.
“Howdy, I’m Marian Bradley. What’s your name?” she asked.
“Israel Boone,” he answered.
Arthur slapped Israel across the face with force. “Arthur, no!” Marian shouted.
“Tell my wife your real name, not that lie you made up,” Arthur ordered.
As he adjusted to the brightness, Israel found he could open his eyelids about halfway. “My name is Israel Boone, son of Daniel and Rebecca Boone,” Israel said defiantly and then waited for the next slap to come, but it didn’t. A look from Marian had stayed Arthur’s hand.
“His name is Joseph Mills. He’s concocted this story that he’s the son of Daniel Boone and lives in Kentucky. He’s nothin’ but a liar, but he’ll do to work in the fields,” Arthur said. “C’mon, boy, we have corn to plant. The spring rains have put me way behind.”
Israel climbed out the wagon with his wrists and ankles bound in chains. Arthur led Israel by the arm to the fields. With sadness, Marian watched them go. Then she went back inside the cabin.
The rest of day was spent in planting the fields and feeding and watering the stock. At dusk, Arthur chained Israel in a stall in the barn. Not long after, the barn door opened and Marian stepped inside. She bore a plate, a mug, and a blanket. “Evenin’, Joseph,” she said cheerfully.
“Israel. My name is Israel Boone,” he insisted.
“No matter what you call yourself, you must be hungry. You worked hard today and got a lot done,” Marian said, kneeling beside him and passing the plate and mug to him. “You’re a good worker.”
“Please, ma’am, won’t you believe me,” Israel practically pleaded, “and help me get back to my parents? They’re in Philadelphia at the home of Howard Kraft. My pa, Daniel Boone, is attending the Constitutional Convention. I’m not Joseph Mills. I’m not a bondservant. I was free.”
“This must be very difficult for you being chained like this. I’ve spoken to Arthur about it,” Marian explained as she deliberately avoided answering Israel’s question. “He so fears that you will run off. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
Continuing to eat his supper, Israel opted not to respond.
“Well, anyway, I want you to know that Arthur hasn’t always been harsh. It’s just been in the last few years that he’s changed. You see, we may lose our farm because our debts are getting bigger, but not the money coming in, “ Marian explained.
“Then how was he able to buy a bondservant?” Israel asked curiously.
“He had just enough money to buy a bondservant who could help him plant and harvest more crops and the greater yield will help us to get out of debt,” Marian answered. “We never could have children so he’s had to work extra hard to keep the farm going. I think you’re going to be the answer to my prayer. With your help, we’ll be clear of debt this autumn. I just know it.”
“I’m sorry for your problem, Mrs. Bradley,” Israel said sincerely, “but as soon as my pa finds me and it’ll be very soon, I’ll be leavin’ and going home to Kentucky. I can’t help you.”
“Arthur’s told me something about you, Joseph. Your pa died a debtor and now you’re having to pay that debt. In your grief, you’ve made up this story. It’s a sorrowful situation, “ Marian said with sympathy.
“I didn’t make up a story, “ Israel said calmly. “I have spoken the truth to you. I pray that you will see it and help me get back to my folks. I don’t belong here.”
“There was once a man named Joseph. He’s mentioned in the Bible,” Marian said. “His ten jealous brothers sold him into slavery and he became great in the land called Egypt because he trusted God and worked hard to please his master. He even forgave his brothers and God blessed him for it.”
“But that Joseph never got to go back home until he was dead, and then the Israelites carried his bones with them when the Pharaoh granted them their freedom,” Israel pointed out. “I’ll be going home alive and soon, because I’m not Joseph Mills. I’m Israel Boone from Kentucky.”
Impressed that he knew that part of the Bible, Marian continued to press her point. “Until that time, perhaps you could take a lesson from that Joseph and work to please your master. It will go better for you, if you do. God will bless you.”
“The only blessing I want is my freedom,” Israel declared.
“If it be God’s will, Joseph, then you will have that in His time,” Marian said, rising, and strolling to the door, where she took hold of the handle.
“Mrs. Bradley, thank you for the food and the blanket. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be like Joseph in the Bible,” Israel admitted.
“Please reconsider,” Marian advised him. “I can’t always protect you from Arthur’s wrath, but it is my Christian duty to try.”
“Mrs. Bradley, I want you to know a Boone always tells the truth and keeps his word. No matter what. I will cooperate, if you will make an effort to consider the truthfulness of what I say,” Israel said, hoping this might be a step towards escaping this predicament.
“It’s a deal,” Marian said, smiling. “Good night...Israel.”
Israel watched her leave the barn as he laid his back against the stall wall. She had taken the first step by calling him by his rightful name. No matter how difficult it was, tomorrow he would work to please his master. How he hated those words ‘please his master’. He couldn’t accept being owned by another or having his freedom stripped from him. Frustrated, he pulled at the chains that bound him to the wall, but to no avail; he was shackled beyond his ability to free himself. As he grew tired, he told himself that it would only last a short time as his father would find him soon or he would escape somehow. Either possibility would grant him what he wanted most. With that thought on his mind, Israel lay down in the straw, closed his eyes, and fell asleep filled with an intense longing to be free.
Picking up his hoe, Israel made a two-inch hole in the ground with it. Slung over his shoulder was a pouch containing seeds of corn. Reaching into the pouch, he withdrew four seeds of corn and dropped them into the hole. As he worked, he thought of a farmer’s rhyme. ‘One for the blackbird. One for the crow. One for the soil and one to grow,’ he repeated in his head.
His shackles clanged as he pressed the seeds into the ground and then covered them with the freshly furrowed soil. He then moved a few inches forward to plant the next set of seeds. And so it went hour upon dreadful hour. Working in close proximity with one another, Arthur and Israel planted their seeds. Neither spoke to the other.
The day was warming considerably and Israel stopped to wipe his brow that had begun to bead with sweat. His eyes turned towards the woods. He longed to be roaming in them. Then he surveyed the field that he and Arthur had plowed and planted thus far. He knew he would not see the fruits of his labor because he intended to be home in Kentucky long before harvest time came and he would be free.
“Get back to work, boy,” Arthur said harshly.
Containing his fury, Israel returned to planting. His current mood had germinated a few hours before as his present circumstance had began to weigh heavily on his mind and his tolerance for it waned. So far, he had kept his promise to Marian and had cooperated with Arthur. Not once had he become belligerent or disobeyed his master, but that cooperation was coming to an end, Israel knew. His temper was growing short.
Marian emerged from the cabin to take the noonday meal to her husband and his bonded boy. Work was interrupted only for the time it took to eat and then their labor was to continue. That was Arthur’s belief although she had tried to convince him otherwise. He wouldn’t reconsider so she fed them in the fields. She carried a basket in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. When she entered the field, she was careful to step over the newly planted corn.
“Arthur. Joseph,” Marian called when she neared. “Lunch.” She pulled out a generous portion of salted ham and bread from her basket and handed them to Israel on a cloth, and then did the same for Arthur. She said a brief blessing and afterwards, Israel sat on his haunches in the dirt to consume his meal. He was very hungry.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bradley,” Israel said politely and then took a bite of the ham as she placed a mug of water beside him.
“You’re welcome,” Marian said, smiling. Dipping a mug of water for Arthur, she handed it to him. “You and Joseph have done so much. The fields will be planted before you know it.”
“We should finish here in a few days and then I can work on that desk for Mr. Mason,” Arthur said, between bites. Besides farming, Arthur made furniture. It brought in money, but not enough to keep them out of debt.
“Oh, that would be wonderful, Arthur,” Marian stated. “Mr. Mason asked about it this past Sabbath. I told him you working on it and it would be done soon. He said he will be most happy once it is delivered.”
“Mr. Mason is known to pay a bonus if he is especially pleased with the workmanship. I plan to make him very pleased,” Arthur explained and then he smiled.
“I know you will,” Marian said as she clasped her husband’s arm lightly. “Oh, my, I have forgotten the squash. I’ll get it.” She headed towards the cabin, leaving Arthur and Israel to consume their meal.
Once inside the cabin, Marian placed the squash in bowl. She had just stepped outside of the house intending to return the field. To her surprise, her brother arrived, riding on his horse. “Tobias, good afternoon,” Marian called to him.
Dismounting, Tobias then approached her. “Afternoon, Marian,” he greeted her. “I’ve come to help Arthur with the planting.”
“He has help,” Marian informed him sadly. “Arthur returned with a bonded boy.”
“So he got what he went after,” Tobias said. “I hope the boy is worth whatever price he had to pay.”
“Tobias,” Marian said. “Let me tell you what I know about this boy.” She explained what Israel had said to her and how she didn't know whether to believe him or not. Then, sister and brother headed for the fields. When they had rounded the corner of the cabin, they heard Arthur shout and Israel shout right back. Marian dropped the bowl of squash. The siblings ran towards the pair, hoping to arrive before something worse happened. Before he could be stopped, Arthur punched Israel in the jaw. The young man returned the favor in kind. Arthur then slammed his fist into Israel’s chin and the young man took a step backwards. Grabbing his hoe, Israel prepared to strike the farmer, but Tobias gripped it with his fingers before any harm was done.
“Easy, son,” Tobias said pleasantly. “It’s too sunny and cheery of a day to be wasted fighting.”
Releasing his hold on the hoe, Israel turned to see the newly arrived stranger.
“Arthur, I suggest Joseph and I work in the field and you can get back to Mr. Mason’s desk. He’s most anxious for it, you know,” Tobias said, coming to stand beside Israel, wanting to separate the pair.
“Not until I teach that boy a lesson,” Arthur said angrily as he took a step towards Israel.
“Just try and you’ll see what you get for your trouble,” Israel retorted and struggled to free himself from Tobias’ hold, who had instantly dropped the hoe and firmly gripped Israel’s arm.
“Now, now, the both of you,” Marian said calmly. “Come along, Arthur. That desk is crying for your attention.” She led him away grateful that the he and Israel would not have to be in each other’s vicinity for the rest of the day. Apparently, they had spent too much time together.
“Tell me something, young man, “ Tobias said, after the Bradleys departed. As he felt Israel relax, he released his hold on him, and then using both hands, he lifted the hoe to chest level, “You weren’t really going to hit Arthur with this hoe, were you?”
Nodding with his head bowed, Israel toed the soil. “I would’ve,” he admitted. “But I know I shouldn’t.”
“At least, you’re showing some sense,” Tobias said. “What was the fight about?”
“He wanted to go back to work when I hadn’t finished eating,” Israel explained. “We argued and he hit me. I hit back. I reckon I’m done eatin’ now.”
“Arthur’s not an easy man to get along with or work beside,” Tobias told him. “If you’ll take my advice, you’d be wise to do as he says, when he says.”
“I’ve been trying,” Israel stated. “I don’t cotton to slavery. Free I was born, free I will die, and free I will soon be.”
“How are you planning that?” Tobias asked.
“I’m not sure, but either I will escape or my folks will find me,” Israel answered. Then he held up hands, balled in fists with the chain hanging from his wrists. “I refuse to be shackled like this for long. These are for animals not for men.”
“I agree with you,” Tobias said. Then he held out his hand to Israel and changed the subject. “I’m Marian’s brother, Reverend Tobias Tucker, a parson on the Sabbath and mainly a tolerable farmer the rest of the week.”
Raising his head, Israel looked at the proffered hand and then shook it. “Israel Boone.”
“Marian told me your story,” Tobias said.
Israel’s heart began to beat faster. He had just been given a shred of hope. “Then you believe me?” he asked optimistically.
“Let me put it this way,” Tobias explained. “I have met more than my share of liars in my lifetime and they were all very clever and very sincere. On my own, I can’t discern whether you are truthful or not. I can only rely on the Lord to reveal that to me.”
“And how is that done exactly?” Israel asked.
“As our Savior once said, “Either make the tree good, and his fruit good; or else make the tree corrupt, and his fruit corrupt: for the tree is known by his fruit,’” Tobias quoted.
“Until you learn that my character is good, you won’t help me?” Israel asked.
“And your words are true,” Tobias said honestly.
“Reverend Tucker, you can learn the truth in Philadelphia. My folks are there,” Israel hinted.
“Son, it’s a four day trip just to get to Philadelphia and that’s on horseback,” Tobias informed him. “Before I make that journey, I’d have to be real sure you are who you say you are and that your parents are in Philadelphia.”
“Then I will convince you,” Israel said and picked up his hoe to resume planting. Tobias moved to do the same as Israel described his parents, Kentucky, and the life he once had. Israel hoped by telling the reverend everything that that he would surely see he was the son of Daniel and Rebecca Boone and help him reclaim his freedom. Israel noted that the reverend was particularly amused by the story about the Indian's growing medicine. It was hard to understand that he had believed such nonsense when he was little.
By the end of day, Tobias was beginning to have his doubts that Israel was Joseph Mills. The way the young man spoke about his family, his land, and his experiences gave Tobias pause to think. The reverend tried to catch Israel in a lie by asking questions on something the youth had said several minutes before, but he answered accurately every time. ‘If this boy is a liar,’ Tobias thought, ‘he is the cleverest one I have ever encountered.’
When Tobias rode away to his home, Israel watched him leave. The reverend hadn’t given him much a clue if he believed him or not. He would have to be persistent and let the truth speak for itself. The truth had to win out. Israel believed that and was determined to prove to Tobias and everybody else that his words were truthful.
Dipping the bucket into the well, Israel noted the day was cloudy, cool, and looked as if it might rain. This was the first time it had been so since he had been forced into captivity some ten days before. He wondered if his parents were on their way to free him, or if his whereabouts were still unknown to them. He Imagined his mother was extremely worried and his father the same, but he wouldn’t show it. Israel grew angry at the distress that he had inadvertently caused them. Pulling on the rope, Israel drew the bucket out of the well and carried it into the cabin all the while trying not to display the dismay he felt for his parents as well as for himself.
Marian was clearing the breakfast table when Israel entered and set the water bucket on another table she used for food preparation and washing dishes. She observed his sad face and decided to do something that might cheer him. “Israel,” she called as he moved towards the door.
Israel stopped and turned towards her. Marian called him by his true name only when Arthur wasn’t on the premises. At first, Israel thought it was sign that Marian believed him, but she made no effort to contact his parents or anything else to free him. He decided she used his rightful name in order to placate him, which suited him just fine. “Yes, Mrs. Bradley,” he said.
“Come sit at the table,” Marian said kindly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Israel said. His shackles clanged as he did as she requested. He loathed the sound they made.
Marian sat at the head of the table as Israel took a seat at one side. “I had a thought that while Arthur is delivering that desk to Mr. Mason, you and I could come to an agreement on something.”
“What would that be?” Israel asked.
“Arthur’s not expected to return until tomorrow evening. So, maybe I can lighten your burden,” Marian stated. “Israel, do you remember that you told me once that when a Boone gives his word, he keeps it. No matter what?” she asked.
Nodding, Israel straightened in his chair and laid an arm on the table. That had been an unusual question and his curiosity was piqued. “Yes, ma’am. A Boone keeps his word. No matter what,” he repeated.
“Then I will ask for your word, Israel Boone,” Marian said, looking into his blue eyes to find any deception in them.
“My word on what, Mrs. Bradley?” Israel asked.
“Your word that if I remove those awful shackles that you will not attempt to run away,” Marian announced. “You must promise me that.”
Stunned, Israel didn’t know what to say at first. Could he keep a promise like that? The temptation to run might prove too great for him to resist. She was placing her trust in him and granting him this one measure of freedom. ‘What would pa do?’ he asked. He knew what his father would do and he would do the same. “I give you my word that I won’t run off if you remove these shackles,” Israel promised. “On my honor,” he added.
Smiling, Marian withdrew the key from her apron pocket. “I’m holding you to your promise whether your name is Israel Boone or Joseph Mills or George Washington,” she said, inserting the key into the lock on his wrists and then his ankles.
Free of the shackles, Israel rubbed his wrists grateful that his shirt cuffs cushioned his wrists from the hard metal. He smiled. Marian had seen him smile only a couple of times before and she was glad to see it now. “Thank you,” Israel said.
“You’re welcome,” Marian returned and then moved to wash the dishes. “Help me with these dishes, won’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Israel said, feeling so much lighter not having to lug the shackles about.
“Mrs. Bradley, why are you trusting me?” Israel asked as he picked up a cloth to dry the dishes.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” Marian fired back while placing a dish into the rinsing water bucket.
Shaking the cleaned dish of excess water, Israel began to dry it. “No reason you should,” he said. “I won’t fail your trust in me, Mrs. Bradley.” He set the dry dish down on the tabletop.
“I would expect that from a Boone,” Marian said.
“Have you come to realize that I am Israel Boone and not Joseph Mills?” Israel asked.
“Not completely,” Marian admitted. “You may still be an exceptional fibber. The truth will be learned eventually. And if you have lied to me and everyone else, I can only hope you’ll repent and be appropriately ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m not a liar,” Israel affirmed. “When you realize the truth, Mrs. Bradley, will you be appropriately ashamed of yourself for not believing me?” He jested and gave her a smile, which she returned.
“If you have spoken the truth, Israel Boone, I shall be more than ashamed of myself. I will feel tremendous guilt for years to come for having not believed you. Fair enough?” Marian asked.
“Guilt isn’t necessary. Shame from you is all I ask,” Israel said with a chuckle and she joined him.
Marian saw for the first time that this young man had a sense of humor. She had believed him only to be filled with sadness and not given to amusement much like her husband. She thought the two of them very alike, but now Israel was showing a side of himself that she hadn’t known existed. His actions were speaking as loud as his words and declared he was who he said he was.
Once the dishes were done, Israel did the chores that Arthur had instructed him to do while he was away. Without being encumbered by the shackles, Israel did his work with a bit more ease than he otherwise would have.
As he chopped some wood, the chickens ran into the pen where the mule, Lucy, was standing. The mule was so frightened of the chickens that it bolted from the pen and proceeded to run past Israel. Reaching for its mane, Israel grabbed it and held on to it and she stopped. Fortunately, she hadn’t built up to a full gallop or he would never have been able to hang on. He returned her to the pen. The chickens had vacated the area since their fun with the mule was over.
Closing the gate, Israel admonished the mule. “Stay in there now and stop being afraid of those lousy chickens. They are just chickens. They can’t hurt a big mule like you.” Then he thought what a stupid mule Lucy was.
As he walked towards the tree stump where he did the wood chopping, the chickens loitered about. “Listen, you chickens," he chided them. "Leave the mule be. She might find her courage and stomp on you." He then picked up his ax wondering how the Bradleys could possibly raise bully chickens and have a mule afraid of them. Thinking on the oddity of these animals, Israel placed a piece of wood on the block, raised the ax over his head, and brought it down forcefully. The wood split in two. He repeated the procedure glad to have a day without Arthur hovering nearby.
Inside the cabin, Marian was missing her husband. She knew others considered him unfriendly and hard to get to know. To her, though, he was different. Not one to be overly affectionate, he displayed his love for her in his own way; a light kiss on the cheek, a touch on the arm, or a smile. He treated her respectfully and tried to do things that pleased her; except for buying a bondservant. She had made an effort to talk him out of it, but he had been certain it was the only way to get the help he needed to get them out of debt. And so this young man who called himself Israel Boone or Joseph Mills, as the indentured papers said he was, came to their farm.
Thinking of their bound boy, Marian wandered outside to check on his progress with the firewood. When she reached the porch, she found some firewood stacked in the yard, but no Israel. She turned her head from right to left in an effort to locate him. He wasn't in sight. An awful, unfathomable thought struck her. He had broken his word and run away. Arthur would surely be furious when he heard this news. Great anxiety filled her being. "Joseph! Israel!" Marian shouted, using whatever name he might answer to. "Israel! Joseph!" She ran into the yard, then to the barn, and then surveyed the fields. No Israel.
He was gone.
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