To the original twenty-one former-slave settlers of the Elgin Settlement and Buxton Mission of Raleigh: Eliza, Amelia, Mollie, Sarah, Isaiah Phares, Harriet, Solomon, Jacob King, Talbert King, Peter King, Fanny, Ben Phares, Robin Phares, Stephen Phares, Emeline Phares, and Isaac and Catherine Riley and their four children.
And to the Reverend William King and his love of justice.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1 Snakes and Ma
Chapter 2 Me and Mr. Frederick Douglass
Chapter 3 Fish Head Chunking
Chapter 4 Kidnappers and Slavers!
Chapter 5 Sharing the Fish
Chapter 6 Mr. Travis Cheats Us Out of a Great Lesson
Chapter 7 Mr. Leroy Shows How to Really Make a Lesson Stick
Chapter 8 The Most Exciting Night of My Life So Far
Chapter 9 The Mesmerist and Sammy
Chapter 10 Meeting the Real MaWee!
Chapter 11 Emma Collins and Birdy
Chapter 12 The Secret Language of Being Growned
Chapter 13 Mail from America
Chapter 14 Picnic at Lake Erie!
Chapter 15 Keeping Mr. John Holton Alive
Chapter 16 The Preacher Comes Through
Chapter 17 Bad News from a Little Village in America
Chapter 18 Kidnapped!
Chapter 19 A Ball Starts Rolling …
Chapter 20 The Death of Mr. Leroy
Chapter 21 Terrorfied in America
Chapter 22 Busting Free!
Chapter 23 Riding Hard Back to Buxton
Chapter 24 The Revenge of Mr. Frederick Douglass!
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
After Words™
About the Author
Q&A with Christopher Paul Curtis
A Brief History of the Elgin Settlement at Buxton
Buxton through the Years: A Timeline
Copyright
It was Sunday after church and all my chores were done. I was sitting on the stoop of our home trying to think what to do. It was that time of day when the birds were getting ready to be quiet and the toady-frogs were starting to get louder with that chirpity sound they make most the night. I wondered if it would be worth it to go fishing for a hour afore it got dark. I got that question answered when Cooter came walking up the road waving at me.
“Evening, Eli.”
“Evening, Cooter.”
“What you doing, Eli?”
“I was thinking ’bout getting Old Flapjack and going fishing. You wanna come?”
“Uh-uh. I got something that’s more interesting than watching you fish, I got a mystery.”
This might not be so good. I ain’t trying to be disrespectful ’bout my best friend, but there’re lots of things that Cooter sees as being mysterious that most folks understand real easy. I asked him anyway, “What’s the mystery?”
“I was cutting through M’deah’s truck patch and seen some tracks that I ain’t never seen afore.”
“What kind of tracks? Were they big?”
“Uh-uh, they’s long and wiggly. I followed ’em but they disappeared in the grass.”
Cooter’s pretty good at tracking so maybe this was a mystery after all.
“Let’s go.”
We got to Cooter’s home, opened the gate, and went ’round back to his mother’s truck patch. Cooter was right!
There ’mongst the rows of his ma’s beets and corn and green peas were some of the strangest markings I’d ever seen.
I studied ’em real close. They were long and skinny and in six wiggling lines. Two of ’em were a good bit thicker than the rest. They started on one side of Cooter’s ma’s truck patch, went clean through her vegetables, then disappeared in the grass.
I got on my hands and knees to really give ’em the eye then told Cooter, “You got me. I ain’t never seen such tracks nowhere. Let’s ask my pa once he comes out the field.”
But afore we had the chance to ask Pa, the Preacher came walking down the road in front of Cooter’s. He ain’t atall like a common preacher that’s got a church or nothing, but he tells anyone that will listen that he’s the Right Reverend Deacon Doctor Zephariah Connerly the Third, and that he’s the most educated, smartest man anywhere ’round. ’Stead of saying all those names, me and Cooter just call himthe Preacher.
He leaned on Cooter’s fence and called, “Evening, boys.”
“Evening, sir.”
“Hot one today, why aren’t you two off swimming?”
Cooter said, “We trying to solve us a mystery, sir.”
“Really? And what would that be?”
I told him, “It’s some kind of animal tracks we ain’t never seen afore, sir.”
“Where are they?”
The Preacher opened the gate, walked into the truck patch, squatted down, and peered at the tracks just as sharp as I’d done. He took a jackknife out of his pocket and dug a little scoop of dirt out of one of the tracks. He looked at it so close that his eyes started to go crossed.
I quit breathing and my blood ran cold when all the sudden he shouted, “Lord, have mercy!”
The Preacher quick stood up and looked all ’round him the way you would if someone screamed out, “Wolf!”
Me and Cooter looked too.Who wouldn’t’ve?
The Preacher said, like he’s talking to hisself, “No!No! No! I knew this was going to happen, I just prayed it wouldn’t be this soon.”
Me and Cooter called out together, “What? What was gonna happen?”
The Preacher looked like his best friend just got killed. “I warned them they had to check out those new-free folks better, and now somebody’s accidentally toted some of those horrible creatures up here.”
I noticed that ’stead of folding up his knife, the Preacher kept it open. Then worst, he held on to it like he was fixing to stab something.
I said, “What somebody tote up here, sir?”
“Hoop snakes!” He said it in a low hissing way that told you whatever kind of snake this was, you didn’t want to run up on one!
Cooter’s eyes scanned right and left. “What? What’s a hoop snake, sir?”
Being any kind of snake was enough for me to start getting nervous, but the Preacher made matters a whole lot worst when he said, “I suppose I have to tell you, but I don’t want this to get any further than the three of us.”
He used his boot to rub most of the tracks out of the dirt.
I said, “Please, sir, tell us what you mean!”
The Preacher started talking but never looked at me di-rect, he was too busy eyeing the road and the woods. “Down home there’s a vile breed of snake called a hoop snake. Not only can it outrun a racehorse, it’s been known to kill a fully grown bear with one bite!”
I looked at Cooter and hoped that I waren’t looking scared as him.
The Preacher went on, “They look like near any other snake, except for one thing.”
“What?”
“They have the habit of sticking their tails in their mouths then biting themselves.”
That don’t make no sense, that don’t make no sense atall! If what the Preacher was saying was true, these snakes sure ain’t too sharp-minded.
I said, “How’re they gonna bite you if they’re clamping down on their own tails, sir?”
“Good question, Elijah. But they don’t hold their tails when they’re ready to bite, they hold them when they’re ready to chase after you!”
Cooter said, “But …”
The Preacher held up his left hand. “Listen! And, my young brothers, you better listen good! This may save your lives. Once they’ve bitten their tails, they form the shape of a circle then stand
up like a wheel or a barrel hoop and commence rolling after whatever they’ve decided to kill!”
The hairs on the back of my neck started jumping like a skeeter’d brushed up ’gainst ’em.
The Preacher said, “After they catch you and bite you …” He snapped his left hand shut like it was the mouth of one of these hoop snakes. “… the true horror begins. You’re doomed.”
Cooter said, “How come?”
“Because, Cooter, their poison gets into your blood too quick. Within hours you commence swelling till your skin looks soft and rotten as a ripe peach left in the noonday sun!”
Cooter said, “What? You swells up?”
The Preacher said, “You swell so much that after exactly seven and a half days the pressure in your body becomes too great and you explode like an overheated steam boiler! In seconds your stomach and your lungs and your other entrails are flung around you for miles and miles!”
I couldn’t believe folks who’d got free would do this to us! Even if it was a accident!
But the Preacher waren’t through. “Worse, the swelling affects everything but your head, so you’re forced to watch the whole tragedy unwinding right in front of your eyes!”
Cooter edged close tome and choked out, “Well, sir, at least you dies quick and ain’t left to do much suffering.”
“No such luck, Cooter.” The Preacher held up two fingers. “Two weeks! It’s fourteen endless days after your explosion before you pass on. And it’s no pleasant death either, you finally die from starvation.”
Cooter said, “Starvation? How come you don’t eat nothing, sir?”
“Because, Cooter, no matter how much food you swallow, it simply falls through the hole where your internal organs used to be and drops to the ground right in front of you!”
The Preacher stared hard in the direction the tracks were headed and said, “Those tracks were fresh, looks like a momma and poppa and a slew of babies! Which, God bless us all, means we’re too late, they’ve already started breeding! And from the way those tracks were going, I’d say they’re hungry and have started up a hoop snake hunting party!”
The Preacher throwed his knife into the ground where the tracks use to be and put his hand on the fancy holster and mystery pistol he always totes. “Boys,” he whispered, “I need you to solemnly promise me something. I want you both to swear on your mothers’ lives that if I’m ever bitten by one of these beasts, you’ll take this pistol and put a bullet in my brain! I’d rather be shot dead than face such a horrible, prolonged death! Raise your hands, I need each of you to promise that you’ll blow my head right off my shoulders!”
I near jumped to the moon when a loud bang came from behind me! I looked back and Cooter’d already run into his house and slammed and locked the door. He waren’t ’bout to promise nothing!
Afore I knowed what was happening I was through Cooter’s gate and right in the middle of a good long hard run home. I had sense enough not to take no shortcuts and stuck to the road so’s I could at least see the hoop snake hunting party if I ran up on it. Ma must’ve heard me screaming from a ways off ’cause she was running out our front gate by the time I got there.
She said, “’Lijah? What on God’s earth is wrong now?”
I busted through the gate, pulled Ma into the house, and slammed the door behind her. I was too worned out and shooked up to talk so she started looking me up and down and spinning me ’round to try and figure what was wrong. After a second she said, “’Lijah, sweetheart, you’s scaring me to death! What’s wrong, baby?”
Once my breathing caught up with me I let her know ’bout how the runaways from America had accidentally brung hoop snakes up to Buxton and how they were out in the woods rolling ’round looking for something to kill.
Ma looked at me like I was daft. She shooked her head and said, “’Lijah, ’Lijah, ’Lijah. What’m I gunn do ’bout you? How many times I got to tell you, a coward die a thousand deaths, a brave boy don’t die but once?”
I didn’t say nothing but I couldn’t help wondering how that’s supposed to be comforting. Seems to me after you die the first time, the ones that follow ain’t gonna really matter too much.
I said, “But,Ma, I ain’t looking to die even one time, ’specially not from no hoop snake bite! It’s better to get your head blowed off!”
Ma kneelt down next to me, grabbed both my shoulders, and looked hard in my eyes. “’Lijah Freeman, you listen and you listen good. Ain’t nothing in the world worth being that afeared of, son. Nothing.”
I said, “What ’bout toady-frogs? How come you’re so afeared of them? How’s that any different?”
Ma couldn’t hardly tolerate even hearing the word toady-frog, she’d near die if she ran up on one.
But just like that, the conversating was over. Ma stood up, smacked the back of my head, opened the door then said, “They is different. Them things is knowed to pass on warts and all other sorts of nasty dis-eases. And don’t be back-talking me neither, ’Lijah Freeman. I ain’t so scared of toady-frogs that I’m-a be running down the road in the middle of the day screaming my head off like you just done.”
She kneelt back next tome. “Acting that way don’t look good on no child old as you is, ’Lijah. You got to learn to get control of you’self and quit being so fra-gile, sweetheart.”
Ma started acting like she couldn’t decide if she was gonna be nice to me or give me a good swatting. She ran her hand along my cheek and said in a kind way, “I don’t know what I’m gunn do ’bout that Zephariah! I done axed you over and over not to have no dealings with him, Elijah. He need be ’shamed of his self, scaring young folk with them nonsense stories.”
She was still acting friendly and peaceable when she said, “And you, you poor thing, you got to start thinking things through, you got to try hard to understand if what folks are telling you make any kind of sense.”
Then, just like that, she’s back at being mad at me, she pinched my cheek hard and said, “But that ain’t no excuse for you to be acting all fra-gile like you done, none atall.”
She squozed on my shoulders ’cause being fra-gile’s the biggest bone Ma’s got to pick with me. There ain’t nothing in the world she wants more than for me to quit being so doggone fra-gile. It’s something I’m aiming to do myself, but the trouble is me and her have two different ways of doing it. And her way always seems to be the exact back side of mine. Whilst I try not to be fra-gile by sucking down the looseness and sloppiness in my nose when they come and by not screaming and running off at the littlest nonsense, Ma sets ’bout it different. Most times she tries to encourage it by talking the subject near to death. And, doggone-it-all, learning a lesson that way just don’t stick in your head.
But what’s worst is when Ma quits talking and starts doing something to make a lesson permanent. The first time she tried to make me quit being fra-gile I didn’t even know she was doing it, but that’s one lesson that’s stuck with me so good that it seems like it happened yesterday and not a long time ago.
Ma had been walking me ’round the yard near our truck patch, and I must’ve been mighty young ’cause I had my arm stretched way over my head to hold on to her hand.
I remember stopping to get a good look at a pile of dirt that was being scampered on by a bunch of bugs. I couldn’t understand how things that small could be moving all by theirselves! I dug my toes down into the dirt to make Ma quit walking so’s I could get a better look. It turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes I ever made.
I can recall squinting my eyes to look up at Ma and seeing her pull off her sunbonnet and wipe her forehead afore she squatted down next to me and said, “’Lijah, that ain’t nothing but a anthill, sweetheart.”
I reached out to pick one of the ants up. This was afore I’d learnt that bugs have ways of discouraging you from touching ’em. But afore I could get hold of one, Ma grabbed my hand. “Uh-uh, ’Lijah, they’s some of God’s hardest workers and just ’cause you’s bigger don’t make it
right to mess with ’em.”
Then she said, “Ooh, ’Lijah, lookit there! Ain’t that the prettiest thing?”
She turned my hand a-loose and reached over in the grass and pulled out the most terrorfying creature that ever lived! It was twisting and whipping in a way that waren’t one bit normal. And it didn’t have a arm nor leg nowhere on it! It looked like it came straight out your worst nightmare. But the fearfullest thing about it was that it was right in Ma’s hand, which up to then had been the best place to run if there was any kind of trouble.
Ma always counts that as the first time I ran off screaming, but who wouldn’t’ve?
Near everything I learnt about snakes on that day and every day since shows that screaming and running from ’em ain’t one bit atall fra-gile, it’s sensical.
It waren’t but a week or two later that me and Cooter were down at the river and he yelled, “Oh, ho …!” then snatched out a toady-frog big as a pie pan!
I was still smarting ’bout the way Ma’d made me feel fra-gile, so the first thing that came to mind was how fra-gile she’d get if she saw a toady-frog as big and round as this one.
Like most real good ideas, this one didn’t come to us right off. One thing led to the ’nother, and after ’while me and Cooter came up with this plan that’s got toady-frogs and Ma and her sewing basket all meeting up together. In Sabbath school Mr. Travis is always telling us that the Lord loves laughter, and what could be funnier than watching Ma reaching down into her basket and getting a little surprise?
After supper I wrapped the toady-frog in the sweater Ma had been working on and put it in her knitting basket and ran ’cross the road to hide in the drainage ditch with Cooter.
Then, just like they always do, Ma and Pa came and sat in their rockers on the stoop, getting ready to do some relaxing. They’re laughing and carrying on and Ma put her sewing basket in her lap.
She took her knitting spectacles out of the basket then quick closed it to make a point ’bout something with Pa. She acted like she was set to reach in and pull her knitting out but stopped at the last instance to slap at Pa’s arm. She even set the basket back on the floor and, doggone-it-all, it seemed her and Pa waren’t gonna get nothing done but talking and laughing! I was this close to losing my mind!
Elijah of Buxton Page 1
