Sunday morning, and I was scheduled to speak with the slaves over breakfast. We had arranged with the livery the night before for rental of three wagons to use through the coming week. We had an awful lot of goods to transport around. Amos, Jeb, Timmons, and I loaded our riding tack into one of the wagons first thing Sunday morning and headed out to breakfast with our new contingent of hopefully convertible slaves. I say hopefully because there were no guarantees that all of them would be able to break themselves out of a lifetime of habits or the artificial security of the world they’d always lived in. A few of these folks would be like lifers finally released from the penitentiary, only to find a world they weren’t prepared to cope with. That was a lesson hard learned from the failures of the emancipation process. Too many newly freed people failed miserably and ended up back in the same basic position, only under worse circumstances.

Our noses led us to the camp, which turned out to be further outside of town than I’d supposed. They’d found a nice area, however, with a clean running brook to serve their water needs. Most of them seemed to be in good spirits, especially if you simply ignored those who appeared to be the perennial complainers. You get those who refuse to be happy, regardless of what you try. In this case, they’d already had a good supper and a warm, dry place to sleep. They also had a breakfast of hot coffee, bacon, grits, and fresh bread waiting for them. I needed them well rested when the journeys home started; it wouldn’t be an easy trip no matter the route.

Quick introductions were made and I announced that it was past time for all of us to eat - women and children first, if you please. I asked Sheriff to offer a quick prayer to start the meal and he demurred. His wife offered in his place, which was fine by me. A fast grace by her and everyone started to dig in. It was very good food, definitely made by experienced hands that cared. Amos had three helpings; you’d think we’d starved that boy. I had sausage gravy with biscuits, thick slices of bacon, and fresh bread. That stuffed me almost to a food coma.

The problem was that I didn’t have much of a voice left after yesterday's antics. I was hoarse and it just got worse if I raised my voice. So I briefed Timmons and Sheriff and forced them to do the talking. Well, neither one of them seemed to be much good at public speaking. Mrs. Sheriff jumped in again, with the three of us feeding her info and answers to questions. It wasn’t the smoothest of solutions, but it would work while my voice recovered.

In general, we read the Rules of Rulo to them and publicly answered any questions that felt valid enough to deserve a public answer. We kept that short since it could easily go on all day. They were reassured that monthly public meetings would be held on the rules in Rulo. The same questions kept popping up, always with just a minor twist. I wondered if many people just wanted it to be known that they existed.

Traveling information caused quite a commotion. There was an overwhelming concern that we simply planned to separate the men and march them off to be miners or the like. It was a fair concern, seeing how that had been done for years and it took Amos to finally settle them down a little. He related a redacted version of his actual story and had the scars to back it up. Naturally, there were a few who didn’t want to believe him.

It was time for me to speak up and I worked a few minutes trying to resurrect my voice, even doing a few vocal exercises I’d heard about or seen in the movies. ‘Do-Re-Mi’ from me didn’t sound nearly as nice as Julie Andrews made it sound.

I was still raspy when I stood forth and said, “Any person here is welcome to leave as soon as we get out of Missouri. You are on your own if you leave, but you’ll want to head Northeast and avoid settlements or campsites. You may take what you have now, but if you steal from any one of us, we will hunt you down and take our belongings back.”

I had to stop a minute and cough.

“Rulo is a group effort town right now. We’re busy building everyone winter houses and putting away food and fuel. No person will freeze or go hungry this winter, but we all have to work together to make that happen.”

Time for another break and a gargle of water, I was starting to fade fast.

“What will happen here now is a group effort. If you don’t join and give full effort, you won’t be going with us. The women and children will travel to Rulo in the boats. The men will help us drive our livestock overland. The men should arrive in Rulo before the women. Everyone needs to work together over the next four days to prepare. If you don’t help, you will stay behind and be sold to a new master.”

With that I shut up and went to find some warm tea. I followed the rest of the conversation while sipping a cup of warm tea. One of the matronly women had taken me to her fire and was fussing over me. She even scolded me and scolded those who were casting doubts on the first hope she’d ever had. I hadn’t even considered that aspect of it - most of these people had long ago given up on hopes and dreams.

She told me how she dreamed last night of a pretty little house that always smelled of warm stew and cooking good food to feed all the hungry people. I whispered to here that we definitely needed her but that the journey might be dangerous. She shushed me about danger; she had a dream now to hold on to.

How about that shit? I had given someone a hope and a dream.