“Like his da. Any store or tavern or farm he stops in, people might recognize him. So he’s got to camp out. But the local pattyrollers know all the places to hide. So the faster he gets away from here, the better.” He pauses, leans forward. “The most dangerous part of the journey is close to home.”

Daddy always said the slave patrols were little better than bandits. For the right price, they’re happy to go after just about anybody, and Uncle Hiram wouldn’t think twice about sending them after me. I bend over the map, memorizing the towns on the way to Chattanooga—Prince Edward, Ellijay, Dalton.

Jim slides his finger westward over the mountains. “Let’s say Jefferson makes it to Chattanooga. From there he’s got two choices: He can go overland, through Kentucky and to the Ohio River. Or he can get on a flatboat or steamer and ride down the Tennessee River.”

“Which is better?”

“He should go by land. He can keep moving, not get tied down where someone might catch him. It’s hard to run when you’re on a boat, unless you can walk on water like our Lord.”

I choke on a laugh.

Free Jim’s return smile quickly fades as he indicates a twisting blue line that cuts the map in half.

“The Mississippi River?” I ask. It looks huge. Even on paper.

“Yep. Everyone going west must cross the Mississippi eventually. By ferry or steamer.”

“Is that . . . expensive?”

He nods. “The steamer surely is. And bound to get more expensive every month. By this time next year, fares will be double, at least. But once the river is crossed, Independence is just a state away.”

I study the roads that lead from Chattanooga, but there are too many places to remember. As long as I go north and west, I’ll get there.

Jim spreads his hands on the map, one thumb on Dahlonega and the other on Independence. “If Jefferson’s all alone for this part of the journey, he’ll need to be full of care. You understand me?”

“I understand.”

“But if he reaches Independence and joins a wagon train, the guides will take him the rest of way.”

“So, the wagon journey is the easy part,” I say.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that.”

I fall back on my heels, shoulders slumping. The country is bigger than I thought it was, and I’m going to need more money than I realized.

Chapter Eight

The bell on the door chimes. Free Jim quickly folds the map, stuffs it inside the almanac, and slides it under his counter. A fellow I don’t recognize crosses the threshold and goes straight for the gold mining tools.

“I’ll throw in the wagon too,” I say, as though we’ve been haggling this whole time. “Hiram wants them all gone to make room for his own team.”