So, it turns out it's harder than I thought for a non-white guy in old buckskin clothes to get a wagon and oxen to go West. I also found out that everyone knows all the slaves on the plantation I came from and nobody ever heard of a Cotton Inspector named Al. Furthermore, goddamn, these shackles are sweaty. Like, it's hot in the South of the country, I know that, but my wrists are starting to itch horribly with heat rash as the wagon creaks along to wherever we're going. 'We' includes several poor souls whose owners sold 'em off on finding out that they couldn't take slaves West. There's one woman who's been quietly crying non-stop, holding her two-year-old on her lap. Guess she was a nanny who can't stand the thought of leaving her little white babies behind.
I know, this seems like I'm getting wrapped up in this stuff on purpose, but it's hard to be obviously not-white in this country. Anyway, as that wagon takes us to- ah, the driver told the one sitting in back with all of us that it's five hours to Richmond. Ugh, that's in Virginia, which is where I just came from. So much for going West, I guess. We don't talk among ourselves, because we're afraid of what the man sitting and watching us might do. So we all just sort of sit and look at each other.
"I hate this." I say out loud, and even though the watcher is glaring at me now, and nobody says anything, I feel that everyone agrees with me.
"And here, we have a strong young half-breed by the name of 'Al.' As you can see, he is very leanly muscled. He also is, however, quite disrespectful of authority and needs a strong, strict Master to teach him to behave right."
I cross my arms and glare at the crowd. I couldn't get out of the shackles before I was brought here. I can't run because like eight of these guys have guns and all I have is my satchel that they didn't search and a knife in it. An old woman comes up and looks me over. I huff through my nose to show off how much I hate the situation, and she backs up a little, looking me over like I'm some kind of un-tamed bull or something.
"Now, now, boy, you just stand there and let the nice lady look at you." the seller tells me, and I glare forward some more.
"Where are you from, Al?" the lady asks me.
"Boston." I say. "I was kidnapped."
The lady looks at the seller curiously. "Is that true, sir?"
"Hardly. He was a stowaway on a riverboat hauling cotton from Vicks Plantation. He was picked up in St. Louis trying to get passage West." the seller says, and I sigh.
"Do I sound like I'm from here to you?" I ask. Silence. "That's right. You kidnapped me, when I'm a free man. Now let me go and I won't say another word about it."
They let me go, and I request that my "family," the woman and her two-year-old are allowed with me. Somehow, I've talked my way out of another situation. I look at the woman once we're a decent ways away from the auction block, and ask her,
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
"My husband- he was freed and lives in New York."
I nod, and take her up to a carriage. The driver looks at us strangely, until I produce the coin purse I lifted off of the slave seller and hand him a bunch of 'em under the promise he make sure this woman and her baby are taken safely to New York. I wave her and her baby off, and then look around the town.
I'm Alphonse Jones, 17 year old swindler, thief and half-breed, and I'm going to get a free way West.