Elijah of Buxton

by Christopher Paul Curtis

  The screen door was shut but the main door was open. I knocked.

  Mrs. Bixby held the door open and said, “That sure waren’t long.”

  I tried to look sad and said, “No, ma’am, folks waren’t too much in the mood for talking.”

  She said, “So what they gunn do? They gunn try to run that thief down?”

  Uh-oh! I said, “They made me leave afore I found out.”

  She laughed and said, “That’s good. I’s kind of surprised your folks let you go to that meeting in the first place.” She looked over in the corner, where Cooter was still mashing his nose up ’gainst the walls. She said to me and him both, “But, Elijah, you’s a whole lot more growned than some other folks your age.”

  I said, “Ma and Pa changed their mind, ma’am, I caint stay with you all tonight. I gotta go back home and go to school tomorrow and go do my chores right after class and then go fishing. I’m-a probably be out of everyone’s sight till near ’bout eight tomorrow evening, maybe a little later if the fishing don’t go good, and judging by the way it went the other day I might even be later than that, so no one should think I got kidnapped and come looking for me till probably a whole lot later than most times.”

  I tried to look sadder.

  She said, “That’s fine, Elijah, you can stay on some other night. Your bag’s where you left it at.”

  I walked into Cooter’s room to get my bag, but I reached inside and got a paper and a pencil to write a note. I went over to the window so’s the full moonlight would let me see.

  I wrote:

  DEAR COOTER,

  HOW ARE YOU? FINE I HOPE. I’M DOING GOOD ACCEPT THAT MR. LEROYS GONE AND KIDNAP ME AND TOOK ME FIGHTING ALL THE WAY TO MITCHAGAIN. WE’RE LOOKING FOR THE PREACHER AND MR. LEROYS MONEY. HE AINT CRAZY NOR TRYING TO HIT THE MAN IN THE MOON HE JUST WANTS HIS FAMILY BACK. I BEGGED HIM NOT TO TAKE ME BUT HE SAY I GOT TO GO. WE GOING TO BE COMMING BACK TOMMOROW ROUND SUPER TIME. TELL MY MA AND PA THEY DO NOT GOT TO SEND NO MONEY AND THEY DO NOT GOT TO WORRY CAUSE MR. LEROY SWORED HE IS GOING TO TAKE GOOD CARE OF ME.

  Cooter’s ma called out from the parlour, “Elijah? What you doing? It don’t take that long to get no bag.”

  I said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bixby. I was writing Cooter a note to say I’ll see him tomorrow since I ain’t allowed to talk to him.”

  She said to Cooter, “See? How come you ain’t more like that boy?”

  I had to finish quick.

  SINCIRILY, YOUR FRIEND

  ELIJAH FREEMAN

  I read what I’d writ and figured I’d best put in one more part.

  P.S. DON’T GIVE THIS TO MY MA ANG PA UNTILL SATURDAY MORNING ELSE MR. LEROY WILL CUT MY THROAT AND BLEED ME LIKE A PIG.

  I had to put the throat-cutting part in ’cause every once in the while my luck ain’t real good, and whilst I can most times count on Cooter to do what’s wrong, he might’ve got afeared and tried to do what was right with this. But if he thought I was gonna get bleeded like a pig, I knowed he’d do what was wrong and wouldn’t tell no one.

  I went back into their parlour and said to Mrs. Bixby, “Ma’am, can I give this note to Cooter?”

  She said, “Go ’head on, Elijah, then hurry home. Tell your ma I ax ’bout her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I went to Cooter ’bout as close as I could get and said, “Cooter, this here note’s for you.”

  I put the note in his hand.

  Long as she was in the room, Cooter was real good at doing everything his ma told him to do and he waren’t ’bout to move his nose out of that corner. He looked at me from the side of his eyes and I blinked twice at him and he blinked twice back at me. I felt better ’cause that meant he knowed that note was powerful important and needed to be studied hard.

  I said, “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Bixby, and good night.”

  “Good night, Elijah.” Then she said to Cooter, “Where’s your manners at? Say good night to Elijah.”

  Cooter kept his nose plumb in that corner and called out, “Good night, Eli.”

  “Good night, Cooter.”

  I left the Bixby home and started down the road toward my own home. Soon’s I was far ’nough along that I knowed Mrs. Bixby couldn’t see me, I cut into the woods and headed back to where I’d left Mr. Leroy.

  He didn’t smile or nothing, but I could see it was a weight off his mind to see me. He said, “I knowed you was a good man, ’Lijah.”

  He reached down and pulled me up onto Jingle Boy. I wrapped my arms ’round Mr. Leroy’s waist and said, “Now I got to go back home and get some things I’m gonna need, Mr. Leroy. Ma and Pa must be at the meeting by now so no one won’t see me.”

  Jingle Boy picked his way through the trees heading toward my home and I asked Mr. Leroy, “How far off is this village in Michigan, sir?”

  “Ain’t far atall, Eli. Less’n a hour from De-troit on this here horse.”

  “How’re we gonna know where to look for the Preacher?”

  “He ain’t gunn be hard to find if he there.”

  That didn’t make no sense, that didn’t make no sense atall. If the Preacher really had stoled Mr. Leroy’s money, seemed to me like he’d try to make hisself real hard to find.

  I said, “But, Mr. Leroy, what if he’s gone? He shot at Mr. Highgate five days ago. I don’t think he’s gonna be waiting ’round for no one to come get him.”

  Mr. Leroy pulled Jingle Boy to a stop. He turned ’round and looked in my face and said, “’Lijah, what you want me to say? I ain’t got no other choice but to go and try to find him. I ain’t got no other choice of getting my family back. You can talk all you want, we’s going to Michigan.”

  I knowed right at that second how smart my pa was. He was ’xactly right when he said Mr. Leroy was looking at things the way he wanted them to be, not the way they really were. But I also knowed that if I waren’t there to try to think things through for Mr. Leroy, there waren’t no way atall he was ever gonna find the Preacher. I knowed Mr. Leroy’s heart was so bust-up that I was gonna have to do the thinking for both of us.

  Mr. Leroy let me off Jingle Boy a ways in the woods so’s I could walk up to our house. When I got there my heart quit beating ’cause when I pulled the door to go in, Ma and Pa were pushing it to go out. They were as surprised to see me as I was to see them.

  “’Lijah, what you doing here? Caint Mrs. Bixby watch you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she said she can watch me anytime you want. ’Cepting she’s confused and called it looking after your baby.”

  Ma smiled and said, “Well, she don’t know you too old to be called no baby, do she? We ain’t gunn say nothing to her ’bout it, though. She don’t mean no harm.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Pa said, “Answer what your ma axed, Elijah. What you doing here?”

  I lied, “I forgot my geometry schoolbook and had to come back.”

  “Well, run on in and get it, son. We’s just ’bout to leave.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Doggone-it-all! Waren’t gonna be no way to get no food nor provisions for this trip with Ma and Pa waiting on me. I went back into my bedroom and picked up another tote sack and put a book in it. I got ready to leave my room then stopped ’cause I got to thinking ’bout something. Since me and Mr. Leroy were ’bout to take a dangerous trip and he had the Preacher’s fancy pistol in case anything bad happened, I thought maybe I should take something along too.

  I put about twenty of the best chunking stones I had into the sack then lifted the end of my mattress and pulled Mr. Taylor’s sullied knife from underneath. I looked at it and let the moonlight shine off the blade. I practiced stabbing at a paddy-roller then stuck it in my bag.

  Then I dug ’round in my box till I found the piece of paper that Mr. Highgate had gave to me. I looked at the name of the man who’d helped him then stuck the paper in my pocket.

  I looked ’round my room to see if there was anything else that we might use on this adventure. I didn’t know
what it was, but something made me start feeling a little fra-gile. I didn’t know if it was ’cause this might be the last time I’d ever see my room again, or if it was ’cause I knowed if I did make it back, Ma and Pa were gonna be outta their minds with being mad at what I’d done. I sniffed the looseness back down in my nose then went out on the stoop.

  Ma said, “Everything all right, Elijah?”

  Doggone-it-all, Ma was hearing things that waren’t being said again!

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Pa said, “Don’t you worry, son. Things has ways of working theyselves out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hugged my ma and pa for maybe the last time. They told me to be good and we all walked off the stoop. They went left and I went right.

  Mr. Leroy was still where I’d left him at in the woods. He pulled me back on Jingle Boy. I took the paper with the address out of my pocket and said, “Sir? This is who we’re gonna look for once we get to that village in Michigan. Mr. Highgate said he’s a mighty good man.”

  For the first time I can ever remember since I’ve knowed him, Mr. Leroy smiled! And I caint say which looked more unnatural, him trying to smile or Old Flapjack trying to run.

  He said, “’Lijah, this here’s gunn turn out all right. I feel it in my heart.”

  Me, Mr. Leroy, and Jingle Boy started heading southwest, getting ready to catch ahold of the stealer of dreams!

  I said it afore and I know there ain’t many folks who’re gonna agree with me ’bout this, but riding a horse ain’t nowhere near as good as riding a mule. ’Specially when you’re galloping hard down a bad road heading for Windsor. ’Specially when you know the man you’re riding behind ain’t got no intention of stopping till you’re on the ferry that goes ’cross the Detroit River. ’Specially when it feels like they’d gone and stretched out the road twixt Buxton and Windsor by another couple hundred miles!

  Why, I was getting bumped ’round on Jingle Boy so much that I knowed those glasses of milk Cooter’s ma made me drink had gone and churned theirselves into a big lump of butter in my belly! And whilst I’m mighty fond of butter, it ain’t nowhere near as good tasting if the way it gets into your belly is as milk.

  All I could do was squeeze my eyes shut, mash my face into Mr. Leroy’s back, hold on tight, and hope that all that butter waren’t gonna try to fight its way back outta my throat. Big and hard as it had got, it wouldn’t probably come back out without a whole lot of choking involved.

  I wanted to holler up at Mr. Leroy that maybe he was running Jingle Boy too hard, but like he’d told me, it was like a ball had started rolling down a hill and waren’t about to be stopped.

  After the longest time, I could smell water and Mr. Leroy eased up some on Jingle Boy. I opened my eyes and saw we were in Windsor at the end of a road that had a big ferry sitting on the river!

  Me and Mr. Leroy jumped off, and once things inside of me quit shaking, I patted Jingle Boy’s chest. He was sweating something fierce and breathing hard, like it was a cold, cold winter day. He looked at me like he was wondering how come I let Mr. Leroy pound him that way. His eyes were wild as a hurt deer’s.

  I said, “Mr. Leroy, sir, we ran Jingle Boy way too hard! He’s ’bout to die, sir! I best take him down into the river and water him and cool him off.”

  Mr. Leroy said, “Depends on when that ferry’s leaving. You go ax them white men. Horse gunn be fine. Y’all up here baby ’em too much.”

  I said, “Yes, sir. But maybe you should take him down to the river, Mr. Leroy, and maybe you should take a dip too, you’re sweating just as much as Jingle Boy!” I didn’t tell him, but his eyes were looking just as wild as the horse’s too.

  The white men said the ferry waren’t leaving for forty-five minutes. I told Mr. Leroy and took Jingle Boy right on into the river. He dropped his head down and drank long and hard, blowing bubbles up all ’round his mouth. I found a bucket with a hole in it and used it to scoop water up on his flanks. They shivered and shooked but I knowed he liked it.

  After ’while he quit drinking and started breathing regular.

  Mr. Leroy called out, “Elijah, bring that horse on up here. We gotta be first on so’s we’s first off.”

  I took Jingle Boy back up to the landing and told Mr. Leroy, “Sir, it ain’t no use to run Jingle Boy this hard. If he dies or pulls up lame it’s gonna take us twice as long to get up to that village and three times as long to get back to Buxton. I know this horse, sir, and he ain’t up to hours of hard running like this.”

  Mr. Leroy looked out ’cross the river at Detroit. He said, “I suppose you right. We ain’t gunn push him as much from here on.”

  That near ’bout took my breath away, those were words of respect! Here I waren’t nothing but a child and he saw what I said was right and agreed to go ’long with my plan! I guess it’s like what Cooter’s ma said, that I’m a lot more growned and smarter than most folks my age.

  Once we got off the ferry in Detroit I looked back over to Canada.

  I ain’t disputing that I’m a whole lot smarter than most other children who’re near ’bout twelve years old, but I couldn’t for anything see how come a river made so much difference. How could one side of the river mean you were free and the other side mean you were a slave?

  When you looked at the trees in Canada and the trees in America they seemed to be the same trees, like they could’ve come out of one seed. Same with the rocks and the houses and the horses and everything else that I could compare, but the growned folks could see big differences that waren’t plain to me.

  Mr. Leroy kept his word, and whilst the shaking was still worst than it would have been on Old Flapjack, it was tolerable better than the ride to Windsor.

  The logging village was ’bout five or six times as big as the square in Buxton.

  Mr. Leroy told me to get the paper out that had the man’s name on it who’d nursed Mr. Highgate. First person we saw that waren’t white, he made me ask, “Excuse me, sir, we’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Alston. He lives at five-oh-nine Wilbur Place.”

  The man said, “That be old Benji. It’s on down the road a bit, but you ain’t gunn find him there. He most likely out back of the tavern this time of night.”

  “Where’s the tavern, sir?”

  The man pointed up the road and said, “Right yon.” He told Mr. Leroy, “That’s a mighty fine horse you got there, mister.”

  Mr. Leroy didn’t answer so I said, “Thank you kindly, sir.”

  Mr. Leroy was looking hard up at the tavern.

  He said, “What he doing out back a tavern?”

  “They’s gambling. Stakes ain’t much, but it’s ’bout all the entertaining you gunn find ’round here.”

  Mr. Leroy said, “You hear tell if a man from Canada what call hisself Preacher been gambling with anyone ’round here?”

  The man laughed and said, “A preacher what owns up to sinning, huh? Ain’t heard of no such man in these parts. Naw, that would’ve stuck with me.”

  Mr. Leroy pulled his coat aside so the man could see the Preacher’s pistol and said, “He’s toting a gun same as this here one. Same holster too.”

  The man smiled and said, “Oh, him! Yessir, he was gambling up here a while back. He done cleaned all these here fools out then went looking for some bigger fish to fry. Last I hear he went on over to gamble with some n’em white men. I don’t know where they playing at, but one of ’em back behind the tavern would.”

  This was great news! Maybe the Preacher had won enough by now to really buy six more slaves out of America! Maybe we didn’t have no cause to come up here tearing after him!

  Mr. Leroy said, “Thank you kindly.”

  He reached down to pull me onto Jingle Boy.

  ’Twaren’t far atall to the tavern. When we got there Mr. Leroy tied Jingle Boy out front and told me, “If they’s any trouble you light on out for this horse and go home. Just follow that road south.”

  I said, “Yes, sir.”

&nb
sp; He pulled the pistol out of the holster and put it in the pocket of his waistcoat. He never took his hand back outta the pocket.

  We walked ’round back of the tavern and came up on a bunch of men squatting down and talking loud.

  Once we got up on ’em I saw the Preacher waren’t there. The men were tossing two little white square boxes with dots all over ’em up ’gainst a wall. There was lots of swearing and lots of coins being passed ’round and American dollar bills being waved back and forth and held squozed up in fists.

  Mr. Leroy said, “Pardon me. Any y’all know a man name of …” He gave me a nudge. I took the paper out of my pocket again and read, “Mr. Benjamin Alston.”

  One of the men said, “Who axing?”

  Mr. Leroy said, “He help a friend and I needs to talk to him.”

  The man said, “What friend he help?”

  Mr. Leroy said, “Man name of Highgate, come from Buxton. In Canada.”

  The man who’d asked all the questions stood up and said, “I’m Benji Alston. What can I do for you?”

  Mr. Leroy said, “Thank you kindly for helping Theodore, sir.”

  “’Twaren’t nothing. Someone bushwhack him. All I done was give him a place to rest and call a doctor. That’s one lucky man. Doc say a half a inch closer, he’d have been killed for sure. How he doing?”

  Mr. Leroy said, “I hear you might know where I can find the man what got a gun like this here one.”

  Mr. Leroy pulled his hand outta his pocket. He had the gun pointing back at hisself so no one wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

  A bunch of grumbling and scowls came over all the men once they saw that gun.

  Mr. Alston said, “Hesh, couldn’t none y’all say for sure he was cheating. Man might’ve been having a good roll of luck.”

  Someone said, “Luck, my foot!”

  One of the other men said, “He got done with us and said he was looking to bet for some real money, said he wanted to go up ’gainst some white folks. They was gambling over in Culpepper’s, but that was earlier this week. Shoot, I figure if that man was smart ’nough to cheat all us, he have to be smart ’nough to know better than to gamble with no white folks.”