Daniel Webster Jackson & The Wrongway Railroad

by Robert Walker

  He had seen the first farmhouse light come on from a half mile off. Any light showing through the bleak forest at night felt friendly and inviting, warm and human. Daniel crouched, coming in carefully now, just as he'd seen the runaway catcher do. He lay belly down in the tall grass on the outskirts of the old place, sizing up the farmstead. He watched the hands, several busy black men. One looked to be a mechanic who had learned how to fix a pump. He saw others at work near the barn. He tripled the figure of slaves he saw on the property to get a fair estimate of how many people the place supported. Two other black men worked to unhitch some mules and bed them down. A small carriage with a frilly fringe all around its top sat out front with yet another black man holding the reins. He smoked a cigar and wore a fine red suit, and he seemed to be putting on airs, too proud to talk to the other black people.

  It had been two days since Daniel had seen another human being, and here everyone appeared to be turning in for the night. His hunger pains told him to turn back to Hannibal, give himself up, that he wasn't cut out for the pioneer life. But, just then the side door entrance to the big house opened on a screeching pair of rusty hinges, and onto the little side porch stepped the largest woman Daniel had ever seen. The weight of her made the porch boards sag and groan, as did the steps as she took each. She turned toward the henhouse, perhaps going for some eggs herself. Daniel counted her steps as she went, figuring how many steps it would take him to get from his grass cover to the henhouse himself.

  The woman shouted for the man at the henhouse to open it up for her. Daniel thought. She must be an important house ser'ant, used to giving orders. Her owl-eyed stare cut distance in half, and for a moment, Daniel imagined she could see him where he lay. In fact, her eyes lit on him and stayed there for some time, as if she could feel him there. Daniel tried to shake the feeling.

  She abruptly lifted her stare and began humming an old spiritual song, sad with low dips and moaning. Daniel thought it sounded a bit like crying. Still, as she returned from the henhouse, she had a bounce in her step. She wore an apron with a four-yard wraparound to it. A towel of the same linen atop her head created a beehive turban. Well off by most standards, her clothes marked her as somebody special. She had well-soled shoes on her feet, and this told Daniel, along with the carriage parked out front, that there were special goings-on at the house this evening. Probably the servant wore her best dress, her favorite apron, and her only shoes.

  As the woman moved back toward the door from which she'd come, Daniel began to formulate a plan. He reached into his gunnysack and tore open the jar of lampblack. The greasy, pigmenting cream the colonel's people had collected from burning oil lamps was normally used to mix with paints, but tonight it would paint Daniel. He began to smear it across his face like soap, blessing his good luck in having picked it up instead of another jar of molasses. Within minutes, his entire face, neck, nose, ears, eyelids, hands and arms were sufficiently blackened. Shortly, he heard the kitchen door scream shut on its hinges, the heavy servant having returned to her duties there.

  He looked up to see the man at the henhouse locking him out of that possibility. But now he had a backup plan. With one bold move, he stood and stepped out of the forest and into the farmstead life. Trying to be casual, he walked easy so as not to arouse suspicions. He passed several of the men working about the place without drawing any attention. In a moment, he stood below a window on his way to the kitchen door where he proposed to beg for scraps, pretending to be one of the boys from the slave quarters. From the open window, he heard a voice that sounded familiar, someone talking about his travels in the wilds of Borneo.

  A female voice asked, "May I pour you some more of my elderberry wine, Major Splitshot?"

  "Why, don't mind if I do, Mrs. Blainy," came the hearty answer.

  Blainy! Daniel wanted to shout. How had he arrived at the farmhouse of William Blainy? Now Daniel knew he must get in and out quickly, before George Penny might catch up to him. He stole a glance at the surrounding woods. George might be out there now, staring right at him from some hiding place among the reeds or bushes or boulders.

  "I have not met with such warm hospitality since my visit to Burma," came the strangely familiar voice from inside the house. "Except of course in my own beloved Louisiana! You are, Mr. and Mrs. Blainy, the most gracious of hosts, indeed."

  Mrs. Blainy twittered in response like a bird. Mr. Blainy said, "Why, thank you, major."

  Daniel inched toward the side porch and kitchen door. In and out, he kept telling himself, climbing the steps and knocking timidly at the door.

  The door was thrown open, but the light from the kitchen was blocked by the great presence of the black woman Daniel had earlier seen. She looks so much bigger up close, he thought, what with her ladle in her hand, and her bulging eyes staring down at him.

  "Lord, child," she cried out, "you know we ain't got time for nobody here tonight what with the massa entertaining! Now get yourself on back down to your quarters where you..." but she stopped herself in mid- sentence, staring harder and saying, "I know all the children on this place, and you ain't one of ours, child. Whereabouts you come from?" She scanned the woods all around as if the answer lay there.

  Daniel piped up, saying, "My name's Effram, ma'am."

  "Efram? But what're you doing here all alone? Are you alone?"

  "Yes'm."

  "Then whose rustling in them bushes yonder?" She pointed, and Daniel turned to see Samuel, the runaway catcher's dog, amble over to him, nudging his hand.

  "Alone, huh?" she asked.

  "'Cept for my dog, yes."

  "What you here for?"

  "Hungry and looking for some eggs, maybe a scrap of bread and water."

  "You ain't no runaway is you?"

  "No ma'am."

  "Then where's your home, honey boy?"

  "I was charged to come here, to Mr. Blainy, ma'am."

  "Charged?"

  "Bought and paid for in St. Louis, ma'am, and told I had to make it here on foot, as he didn't at the time have enough money to pay my coming up with him on the steamboat. I had my dog for help, and Massa Blainy say anyone hereabouts could tell me how to get to his place."

  "Why, that man—" she began, her face darker now. "He put you on the road like that, all alone, without nobody but that hound to help you get here? That's the most terrible story I ever heard! Where's your mam and your pap, boy?"

  "Mam and pap're known for being good for their word and good walkers, so Mr. Blainy didn't think nothing of putting me on my own, and my pap, he was the walking-est man alive."

  "Was. Was, you say? You poor child, you done lost your pap!"

  "Yes'm, to the fever. Caught it whilst working the fields one fall when the crop come in with a blizzard. Overseer worked him dead, mam always said." Daniel warmed to the story.

  "And your mammy? Where she be? Don't you go telling me she died of the fever, too. I know the Lord's more merciful than that. Ain't hardly a child around here with both parents alive and together, but every one of 'ems got at least one parent, and those that don't, they got me."

  "Mammy was sold downriver with the others." Daniel turned his blackened face downward.

  "Oh, God, what they do in St. Louis to people. When You going to end this kind of life for us?" She then bent over Daniel and hugged him so tightly his breathing stopped. While in her embrace, he felt guilty over the lies he'd had to tell, along with the lampblack disguise over his naturally dark skin.

  "Your mammy done the right thing, getting you sold North 'stead of South, Effram, honey. Like to broke her heart, I know, parting with your sweet soul. Now it's as though she sent you directly to me, and in that spirit you're mine. I won't never let no harm come to you, ever."

  "Thank you, ma'am," he timidly replied.

  "You just calls me Daisy, honey. Now come on in and let's find some vittles for your tummy."

  As they entered the well-lit kitchen. Daisy told Daniel about having lost her own son, "Abo
ut your age and build, Effram, when I lost him. When he left me. It's like, in a v/ay, his coming back, how you just showed up on my doorstep."

  By the minute, Daniel's guilt grew greater and greater, but all thought of it vanished when someone shouted, "Daisy! Who's that with you?" Daniel saw a young, thin black house servant studying him now as he attempted to shoo Samuel back out the door.

  Daisy said, "You just let that brave little dog come inside here too, Effram. We'll manage to feed him and you, promise."

  "Effram!" shouted the thin house servant whose voice could shatter glass. "That's a funny name."

  "Don't you go making fun of the boy, not with what they calls you. Sissy. Besides, this boy's done trooped here all the way from St. Louis, so don't bother him. He's lost his pap to fever and his mammy to the auction block and plantation South, so be nice, you hear?"

  "Just thought Effram's a big name for such a little boy." Perhaps nineteen or twenty, Sissy wrapped an arm about Daniel and said, "I'm downright sorry about your mam and your pap, Effram."

  Daniel shrugged. In the light, he felt it best to say as little as possible and to draw no attention to himself. He kept his eyes averted.

  Sissy guided him to a chair at the table and said, "I'll get you a mess of greens, taters and bean soup, Effram."

  "You just stop that, Sissy! This boy's having what massa is having tonight; he ain't eating like the rest of us on the farm. It's roast turkey, kidney pie and a slice of pumpkin pie."

  "And why's he eating better'n us?"

  "He ain't just come up from the quarters! He walked here plum from St. Louis, maybe a hundred mile! All by himself with that dog of his."

  Sissy whistled and looked at Effram with newfound respect. "That's some show of loyalty to Massa Blainy, ain't it? Another boy your age might've just kept on going, Effram, like your boy, George done, Daisy."

  Daisy banged pots and pans at the mention of her son's name. "I told you. Sissy, I don't never want to hear that runaway's name mentioned in my presence again, ever!"

  "Runaway or not, he's still your son!"

  Daniel watched Daisy's big shoulders heaving up and down with the movement of her knife where she sliced turkey and bread for him. In a moment, a plate filled with food sat beneath Daniel's nose, but he could see that Daisy had been crying. "Eat," she ordered.

  Daniel ate greedily while Daisy spoke to Sissy. "When I see Master Blainy next, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

  "No you won't," replied Sissy.

  "Better stop me, 'cause I'm going to light into him good! Making this young'un come all this way while he's straddling a steamboat!"

  "Go on with you, Daisy. You know you won't say a word."

  "I'll have my say."

  Daniel prayed Sissy was right. While his plan seemed to be working wonderfully now, any attack on the master by Daisy over his wild story could prove his unmasking. Then what? Do people get into trouble for masquerading as slaves? Has anyone ever done such a foolish thing?

  He knew he must get out of this situation as quickly as possible. He didn't want to bring calamity to anyone here. He knew the longer he stayed, the deeper Daisy would become involved with Effram She'd already appointed herself Effram's guardian angel. Her unquestioning concern made him realize how easily black families were torn apart, lives ruined. Daisy might have to live the rest of her life never to see or hear from her son again, never to know if he were alive or dead.

  Having never known his own parents, Daniel tried to imagine the kind of life that could be so bad to force a boy his age into the life of a runaway, to leave behind every face and every place he had known.

  Samuel greedily ate the table scraps thrown him. Daniel knew the slave catcher must be just the other side of the door, waiting for him to come out. He had to escape from Daisy's kitchen as soon as possible, but when he did, he'd run right into the clutches of Mr. Penny.

  The door to the dining room burst open and in stepped Mr. William Blainy, white haired and tall, a long bone-handled cane gripped in his hand. He pointed with the cane as he shouted, "Daisy, what is all the delay? For goodness sakes, woman, we have the major waiting dinner, and you're feeding dogs and children in here? Where are your senses? Why isn't our table set?"

  Mrs. Blainy followed, equally aghast, shouting, "Do you want Major Splitshot to think ill of this house? Is that your plan? Do you have a plan, Daisy May Blainy? And Sissy, are you daft, too? Don't just sit there like a fool! Help bring the platters in, and you, boy!" she shouted to Daniel, "Get up! Get up and help your elders!"

  The Blainys left as abruptly as they had arrived, their hands empty. Sissy began lifting platters, and she followed the Blainys into the dining room. Daisy, her eyes fuming, said, "Best we do as massa says, honey. You ever serve a table before?"

  "No'm, and I'm afeared to try."

  "Effram, you can do anything you set your mind to, boy." She smiled as she said this, and she added, "Now here, take this turkey platter into the other room. May's well baptize you quick and get it done."

  "But Miss Daisy, I—"

  "Never you mind. I'll be right behind you. Now go on ahead."

  Daniel didn't want to go into the other room. Someone was bound to see through his disguise. He hesitated before the door.

  Daisy nudged him, saying, "Go on, honeypot, ain't nothing to it. Just put the turkey on the table and skee- daddle on out of the master's sight as quick as you can."

  Daniel heaved a sigh of resignation, almost turning the turkey over where he stood, but Daisy quickly righted it for him, saying, "Careful, Effram...careful!"

  As Daniel put his weight against the door, he heard Daisy mutter under her breath, "Lordy, wish Ichabod was here. Mr. Blainy done turned mean these past few days— angry at Ichabod, angry all the time. Something's up. Only wish I knew what's up."

  Sissy passed them as they entered, and hearing Daisy's last words, she whispered, "Old Ichabod knows what's up, but he ain't saying."

  "Ichabod don't keep no secrets from me," Daisy whispered back, ushering Daniel and the turkey through the door. She carried a loaf of baked bread and a bowl of stewed squash.

  TEN

  A SLAVE'S WORST FEAR

  There was lively conversation and a sizeable amount of food spread across the Blainy table. The dining room and house reminded Daniel of Colonel Halverston's place: roomy, built when craftsmen took pride in their work. Large, studded beams crossed the ceiling, extending out into the kitchen. A stone fireplace crouched in the great hall. It must have once been the scene of fashionable dances and parties, but just as George Penny had reckoned that the colonel had fallen on hard times, so did Daniel reckon the same for the Blainys due the age and condition of the paint on the walls, the furniture, and Mr. and Mrs. Blainys' clothes.

  Mrs. Blainy's lavender and lace dress designated her the matron of the mansion. A spindly woman, she wore too much powder and makeup, giving her a scarecrow appearance, her face sack-white. She constantly twittered as she spoke, and she seldom stopped speaking and squeaking. She now rested her chin on her knuckles, blinking eyelids birdlike at the man who sat on her right. Like her, he talked non-stop, despite the food in his mouth.

  At Mrs. Blainy's other side sat two boys, about seventeen and eighteen years old. The boys ate as much as the adults talked, so they paid Daniel no attention. Next to Mr. Blainy sat a girl, thin and pale, perhaps fourteen. Her eyes followed Daniel. She wasn't talking, and she wasn't studying her plate as the boys were. Instead she studied Daniel. Daniel felt her eyes trailing him even as he brought in the turkey. He sensed that she knew he didn't belong. Did she also know he was white? Or did she just wonder where this new black boy had come from? Placing the turkey in the middle of the table, Daniel began to sweat, stealing another look at the little girl. She wore her black hair in a bun. Her stare reminded Daniel of a milky-eyed, sick cow. Her skin was pale white and pink.

  "Auntie, Auntie!" she called out to Mrs. Blainy, while staring a hole through Daniel.


  Daniel's hands began to shake. He was certain the girl meant to expose him. But Mrs. Blainy paid no mind whatsoever to her niece, so taken was she with Major Splitshot. Daniel shot the major a quick glance. His voice sounded so familiar. The man wore a long, white beard, spectacles and a mustache. Daniel didn't recognize him.

  Then Mr. Blainy grabbed Daniel by the wrist and declared, "I'll show you exactly what we're talking about, major. Look closely at this here boy of mine." He turned Daniel to face the major, and added, "Boy, tell the major here your name and age."

  "Ahh, ahh, Effram, aged seventeen, maybe."

  "Effram what, boy?"

  Daniel knew that slaves had to take on their masters' names, so he barked out with pride, "Blainy, sir. Effram Blainy."

  Mrs. Blainy beamed and said, "See how well brought up this boy is, how respectful and behaved?"

  Daniel felt ill at ease, and he saw the little girl grin wide with pleasure at his discomfort. The two boys stared briefly at him now as well, but they went back to their food. Meanwhile, Daisy stood nearby, secretly seething and worrying about Effram. The major complimented the Blainys by responding with, "Well, young Effram here done a fine job waiting table."

  Daniel studied the major's features closer now, the size and shoulders recalled any number of fat men he'd known or met, but the eyes, the brow, the rose red cheeks belonged to Sheriff Brisbane. Daniel masked his own features well, averting his widening eyes before Brisbane might know that he knew of his game. No wonder the voice was so familiar. But what's the sheriff doing here in disguise as a major?

  Mr. Blainy patted Daniel on the shoulder the way a man pats his favorite dog, saying, "This boy's like all the rest. Been with me since the day he was born, and each of my Negroes are as faithful and as trustworthy as the day is long. Major."