Montgomery County, Virginia, is still largely rural. Image source. About the photograph
We stopped at a little log-house, where a sign indicated entertainment for man and beast, and called for refreshments. I was now getting into a part of the country I had seen before, Montgomery County, Virginia. I had spent two weeks in that county the previous fall, collecting cattle, as I had told Osborne. I knew that one Squire Howells kept a tavern on that road, not far ahead; that he owned no slaves, and was a popular man among the mountaineers. I inquired the distance to his house, and was informed that it was eight miles. I also learned that my uncle’s party had passed a few hours before, and would probably camp near Squire Howells’, as it was a favorable spot, on account of water, etc.
I now renewed my persuasions to induce Osborne to go on; told him that the poor cabin where we then were afforded little accommodation or comfort; that if we went on to Squire Howells’ we would be near the camp, and as that neighborhood was more thickly settled, we could collect the men he wanted and accomplish our work without spending another day. He finally yielded, and called for our horses. He invited me to drink with him at the bar, and I sipped the liquor lightly, wishing to promote his drinking. It was now dark, but the stars shone brightly, and we made our way along the road without difficulty.
We arrived at Squire Howells’ tavern before the inmates had gone to bed. Riding up to the gate, we hallooed, and the landlord came out. Osborne inquired if a two-horse wagon with movers had passed that evening, and where they would be likely to camp. Howells replied, “They passed this evening; bought some horse feed of me, and inquired for a good camping place. I directed them to the Six- Mile Branch, as we call it, a stream about six miles from here, where they would find good water and every accommodation for camping.”
“Was there a nigger with them?” asked Osborne.
“Yes,” answered Howells, and gave his description.
“That’s my nigger,” said Osborne; “and I am after him, bound to have him, dead or alive. I want you to raise a company of men and help me capture him. I will pay you well for it.”
“I don’t much like that kind of business,” said Howells.
“Oh, I’ll make you like it,” added Osborne; “I have plenty of money.”
A glow of hope and comfort warmed my heart. I liked Howells’ expression, and thought perhaps he might aid me if I could enlist his sympathy for the fugitive. I dismounted and said: “Well, we will have our horses fed, get some refreshment, and talk the matter over.” Howells invited us to walk into the house while he and his son took our horses to the stable. I told Osborne to go in and I would go to the stable to give directions about feeding our horses.
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