Mustard Seed

by Laila Ibrahim

  Shame filled Jordan. She wanted the very best for this sweet, shy, and pained child, but she could not commit to being her family, so she deflected the responsibility.

  “My mama will know the right thing to do,” Jordan said. “She’ll make sure you have a good place to be.”

  Ella looked up, stared at Jordan with doubt in her eyes, shrugged, and hid her face back on her curled-up knees.

  Jordan sat close to Ella, not quite touching, offering silent companionship, the waiting interminable. After a few minutes Jordan asked, “Want to do some letters?”

  The little girl’s head, still resting on her knees, shook so intensely her braids bounced around.

  “How about some counting?” Jordan coaxed.

  Her braids shook again.

  Jordan offered, “Little Sally Walker?”

  There was no response. That was better than a no. Jordan didn’t push. Instead, she clapped out the rhythm on her hands and lap, slapping into the empty air in front of her. Ella turned her head ever so slightly and watched out of the sides of her eyes. Jordan added a quiet hum. Ella lifted her head off her knees. Still humming and clapping, Jordan scooted to the right and twisted to the left, giving enough space to orient the air slapping toward Ella. The girl accepted the unspoken invitation and clapped along, starting the words at the beginning of the next verse. Jordan sang along with her.

  Little Sally Walker, sitting in a saucer,

  Rise, Sally, rise, wipe your weeping eyes;

  Put your hands on your hips, and let your backbone slip.

  Shake it to the east; shake it to the west.

  Shake it to the one that you love the best.

  The pair was still playing clapping games when they heard a rustle in the bushes. Jordan’s pulse quickened, and her mouth went dry. She saw fear mirrored in the little girl’s eyes. Jordan nodded in recognition of their shared feelings and took a calming breath to set an example, and they both looked at the bushes, waiting for what was to come.

  “It us,” Mama called out before Jordan could see them.

  Ella looked at Jordan, alarm in her eyes. Feeling protective, Jordan put an arm around the girl.

  Mama broke through the shrubs first. Sarah rushed close behind, her dark-brown eyes big in excitement, or maybe fear. Cousin Sarah stopped walking the instant her eyes landed on Ella. She froze three feet away, staring at the child. Jordan looked back and forth between the girl and the woman. Anxiety covered both faces. Neither moved.

  Suddenly Sarah collapsed to her knees. Loud sobs poured out of her, tears streamed down her cheeks, and her shoulders shook up and down. Jordan had only seen crying like that at a funeral.

  Ella turned to Jordan. “Why she crying?”

  Uncertain what it meant, Jordan shook her head slowly as she said, “I don’t know.”

  Sarah cried out, “My baby! You my baby.” Sarah raised her arms and motioned with her hands.

  A chill ran down Jordan’s arms; relief surged through her. Jordan beamed at Ella. “She recognizes you!”

  Ella looked confused.

  Jordan clarified, “She says she is your mama!”

  “Really?” Ella asked.

  Jordan nodded and directed her. “Go. Give her a hug.”

  Ella looked scared. Jordan gently took the little girl’s hand and slowly walked with her the three paces that separated her from her mother. Jordan knelt in front of Sarah. Ella followed suit. Jordan took Ella’s small hand and placed it in Sarah’s.

  Tears streamed down Sarah’s face. She held Ella’s fingers in one hand and stroked her cheek with the other. She fingered the shell that hung around Ella’s neck. It was so beautiful to watch that Jordan teared up too.

  “You my baby, my baby girl. I missed you so.”

  Jordan stood up. Mama stood by her and wrapped an arm around Jordan’s back. Jordan rested her arm across her mama’s shoulder and hugged her close.

  “You really my mama?” Ella asked, wonder on her face.

  “Really!” Sarah nodded. “I know those eyes from anywhere!”

  A small smile tugged at the girl’s mouth. Fear and pride, a strange combination, mixed in her expression. Ella nodded. At first it was a small nod. Then it grew bigger as she seemed to understand. Eventually a huge grin split her face.

  Ella looked at Jordan and Mama; wonder shone from her eyes. “You right. We found her!”

  With a tender smile and moist eyes, Mama said, “Yes, we did.”

  Cousin Sarah didn’t hesitate for a moment. She left everything and everyone behind and climbed into the back of the wagon with Ella. Jordan wished she could see her face as they drove away. It was way too personal to ask how it felt to be leaving. Jordan imagined it would be a whole mixture of emotions: relief to be reunited with Ella and sorrow to be left with questions about Sophia, and there had to be fear and anger too.

  Sarah and Ella sat close to each other in the back of the wagon. Jordan drove the wagon with Mama sitting next to her. They were quiet in the front, eavesdropping on the chatter from the back. Mama chuckled at the little girl’s giggles. Jordan’s spirits soared.

  “Somebody comin’!” Ella declared, ending the joyful moment. A shot of adrenaline coursed through Jordan. In the sudden silence, Jordan heard the creak of the wagon and the clap of the horses’ hooves. Mama turned around and sucked in her breath.

  “It look like Massa Richards,” Cousin Sarah said.

  “Is he alone?” Jordan asked, her heart fluttering like a trapped moth.

  “Uh-huh,” Mama replied.

  That was only the smallest relief.

  “Should I stop?” Jordan asked.

  “Not unless he say so,” Mama instructed.

  Jordan kept her shaky hands tight on the reins. It was hard to hear over the beating of her heart, but soon the sound of galloping filled her ears.

  “Stop right now!” an angry voice yelled.

  It was hard to pull the reins with sweaty hands, but Jordan managed to slow the horses to a standstill.

  The man rode up along the right side of the wagon atop his dark-chestnut stallion until he was eye to eye with Mama. His face was the brightest red Jordan had ever seen, and his eyes burned with fury.

  “I told you to stop interfering with my business!” he bellowed, inches away from Mama’s face, leaning toward her. Jordan pulled away from him, but Mama didn’t flinch.

  Without breaking eye contact with Mama, he yelled, “Sarah, get out of that wagon. Now!”

  The wagon jostled as Sarah started to get up. Mama’s arm shot out, stopping Sarah from climbing out of the wagon.

  “No, suh,” came Sarah’s voice, quavering but clear.

  Mr. Richards’s head whipped around. His eyes bulging hard, he screamed at Sarah. “I am going to whip you within an inch of your life!” Spit flew from his mouth. “This is my home. I am the massa here. You will do as I say, now. Or you will pay!”

  Sarah shook visibly, but she didn’t move. Mama kept holding one arm; Ella clung to the other one, her face burrowed into it.

  Mr. Richards turned his gaze back to Mama. “Sarah was content with her place until you showed up!”

  Mama stared back at the man. Jordan shook all over, and her chest tightened up. She started to pant. She flashed on the image of Samuel being dragged away. Was this man going to grab her mama?

  In an instant the cane was over his head, ready to strike.

  Without thinking Jordan put her arm into the path of the stick, protecting Mama from the blow. The cane crashed onto her forearm. Jordan heard a loud crack and felt something give way. A stabbing pain shot through her arm, radiating out until it filled her entire body.

  Mama grabbed the stick and twisted hard, forcing it from the raging maniac’s grip. The bottom tip of the cane twirled around, smashing him in the face. He cried out and jerked back, falling off the horse. His body hit the ground with a thud, and Jordan heard the sound of the air getting knocked out of him. Her lungs clamped down in empathy, making it h
ard to take in air.

  Mama leaned over the side of the wagon and yelled, “We protecting what ours, and not yours.”

  Jordan couldn’t see the man, but she heard him whimpering from below.

  “Don’ you never strike my daughter again,” Mama hissed to the ground. “Or I’m gonna kill you!” She looked like she meant it.

  She raised the cane over her head and smashed it on the wagon rail. The carved stick split in half, with one side flying into the wagon bed. Ella and Sarah cried out and dodged it as it sailed past them. Mama threw the eagle-topped half of the cane into the bed of the wagon.

  “Drive on,” Mama told Jordan.

  Jordan stared at her mama without making a move. Scared that he was truly injured yet hoping that he was no longer a danger, Jordan leaned over to get a glimpse of the man on the ground. Pain shot through her.

  Blocking her way, Mama commanded, “Drive on!”

  “Is he . . . ?” Jordan asked between shallow breaths.

  “He don’ matter! It between him and God right now,” Mama declared. “Get goin’.”

  Mama reached over, flicked the straps in Jordan’s hand, and called out to get the horses moving. Jordan, jerked around by the sudden movement of the wagon, fell over onto Mama, but despite the pain in her arm, she held on to the reins. Mama pushed her upright, holding her steady with her strong arms. Jordan’s heart was still pounding, and her head was too light. It took all her will to focus on the road in front of her.

  Ella’s young voice reported from the back, “He still down.”

  Jordan listened for the sound of pursuit, but the thrumming in her ears made it hard to hear.

  “He ain’ even sat up yet,” Ella declared.

  Jordan worked to take a deep breath; slow and jerky, she managed to force her lungs open a bit more. She swallowed hard and looked over at her mama, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was it over—or was more to come?

  “Still down. Maybe he dead!” Ella wondered.

  “I don’ think he dead, but he gonna be down for a while,” Mama replied, sounding confident.

  When she was finally able to speak, Jordan said, “Mama, you were so brave!”

  Mama smiled wryly. “I been plottin’ against men like him my whole life.”

  “Is he going to come after you?” Jordan asked. “Should I cut into the forest—to hide?” Protecting her mother was foremost on her mind.

  “He ain’t nothing but a coward and a bully. He the kind of man who gonna go back and say that he fell off his horse taking a jump. He ain’t never gonna tell a soul a woman, a Negro woman, bested him,” Mama said confidently. Then she whispered conspiratorially, “But go fast as you can just to be safe.”

  Jordan laughed weakly. “I sure hope you’re right.” She couldn’t tell if Mama was just pretending to be so certain, but she stayed on the dirt road as her mother suggested.

  Ella reported again. “The horse gone ’way, but that man still lyin’ on the ground.”

  With that news, Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Richards was a long way from help by foot, especially with injuries. They were safe. She looked over at Mama and smiled.

  “You were right! Looks like he can’t come after us.”

  “I shore hope Emmanuel and Lisbeth have as good a luck as us,” Mama said.

  “Me too, Mama,” Jordan agreed.

  “I’m gonna pray for them,” Mama explained, and then she got quiet.

  As the adrenaline slowly left Jordan’s body, she felt the pain in her arm. The intensity grew with every bump in the road. Sweat beaded at her temples and her forehead, dripping into her eyes. The road became blurry, and her lids grew so heavy that she worked to keep them up. It took all her concentration to stay sitting upright. She felt the horses slow down, but her wrists didn’t have the strength to flick the leather straps in her hands.

  Mama stopped praying, looked at her, and said, “Jordan, stop the wagon.”

  Jordan tried to lift her arms to pull back, but they wouldn’t move. Mama took the leather straps from her hand and tugged back on them until the horses came to a standstill. Surrendering to her body’s demands, Jordan slumped over with her eyes closed, barely aware of whispering. Mama came around to her side and carefully guided her off the driver’s bench. Gentle arms led Jordan to the back and helped her lie down in the wagon bed. Jordan heard but couldn’t follow Mama’s whispers.

  “Baby, this gonna hurt a moment, but it gonna help you heal faster,” Mama said loudly enough for Jordan to hear.

  “Ahh!” Jordan screamed in pain. Mama was pulling on her arm. Jordan tried to take in a breath, but her lungs wouldn’t work. Someone held her hand. She squeezed it hard, hard, hard, wanting to push the pain away. And then it was over.

  “You gonna be fine, baby. You rest, and we gonna get us to the Johnsons’.” Mama kissed her forehead.

  Through blurry eyes Jordan saw her arm was in a splint. Ella sat at her side, and the other two climbed into the front and got them going again. As she was surrendering to her dreams, Jordan heard them speaking.

  “You know how to drive a wagon?” Sarah said in wonder.

  “I shore do. You gonna learn how too,” Mama replied confidently. Jordan smiled. Her mama deserved to be pleased; she had saved them from a bully, had set Jordan’s arm, and was taking them where they needed to go. Despite the agony of her arm Jordan was so grateful—and so proud of her mama.

  CHAPTER 21

  LISBETH

  Charles City County, Virginia

  Lisbeth’s heart sped up as they came to the fields. If any of the workers noticed them arriving in their wagon, they didn’t show it. No heads turned; no one stood up straight to get a better look. The brown-skinned men continued slicing leaves off the tall tobacco plants, perhaps twenty people in all. Two White men sat on horses, patrolling the workers. Lisbeth felt sick at the sight of the whips on their saddles. This was a scene that was supposed to be history. One of the overseers rode toward them as Matthew brought their wagon to a stop.

  Lisbeth exhaled loudly and gave Matthew’s arm a squeeze. She whispered, “Good luck!”

  The man climbed down from his horse, meeting Matthew and his brother Mitch on the ground. Emmanuel stayed in the back of the wagon. Lisbeth could hear his quiet breathing from behind her. She felt ready to jump out of her skin and could only imagine how much more worked up Emmanuel felt. His son was out there, being held captive. If he could contain his emotions, she was obliged to exude calm on the outside no matter how she felt on the inside. She forced herself to take steady breaths.

  “Mitch.” The man nodded and shook her brother-in-law’s hand.

  “Jesse.” Mitch returned the courtesy. “This is my brother Matthew.”

  “How can I help you?” Jesse looked bored rather than hostile.

  Mitch said to the man in the tan hat, “I’ve come for my laborer.”

  “What?” the man asked.

  “You have one of my workers, and I want him back,” Mitch said plainly to the overseer.

  “What makes him your worker?” the man replied, sounding less bored, but still not hostile. “I have a lease on each one of these men.”

  “My brother here brought him from Ohio to harvest my crops,” Mitch explained, pointing to Matthew. “They stopped in Richmond to visit kin, and he got rounded up for vagrancy. I need him to work on my farm.”

  “Take it up with the sheriff, not me,” the man replied.

  Lisbeth’s attention moved between the conversation and the sweaty workers in the fields. Her eyes traveled from man to man, scanning for Samuel’s lithe silhouette. One seemed familiar, and she stared at him hard, willing him to turn his head up. When he did, she sucked in her breath. It looked like William—Emily’s husband.

  Without turning around, Lisbeth said quietly, “Emmanuel, do you see Samuel?”

  Emmanuel whispered back, “He in the middle of the middle.”

  Lisbeth concentrated on the figures in the middle un
til she saw Samuel. She nodded, though no one was looking at her.

  “I believe I see William out there,” she said. “To our left on the end. Do you agree?”

  “I don’ know him,” Emmanuel reminded her, “so I can’ say.”

  “Of course,” Lisbeth said. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She whispered, “Well, I believe it is him. I’ll be right back.”

  She climbed down from the wagon, counting as she walked to Matthew—one . . . two . . . three—up to seven until she was by her husband’s side. Lisbeth tugged on his arm to get his attention. He looked at her with a question in his eyes. She motioned with her head for him to speak with her in private. They stepped away from the two men negotiating for Samuel’s release.

  “I believe William is here,” she whispered urgently. “We have to get him as well!”

  “Who?” Matthew asked.

  “Emily’s husband,” Lisbeth replied.

  Matthew looked confused.

  “The boy Sammy gave his glove to?” Lisbeth said, waiting for recognition in Matthew’s eyes. When it came, she said, “His father!”

  “Oh!” Matthew suddenly understood.

  He nodded and walked to his brother. Lisbeth hoped Mitch would be savvy enough to go along with this change without argument. She stood close by to listen to their conversation, working to make herself unobtrusive. Matthew interrupted the two men.

  “We need William too,” he said, and pointed to the fields.

  Mitch looked confused, as if he was about to ask a question.

  Matthew quickly explained, “I brought three workers from Ohio with me: Samuel, William, and Emmanuel. Two just up and disappeared. I’d heard that Samuel was here, but lost track of William. Guess he got caught up in the same sweep.”

  “Why would you bring in workers from Ohio?” the overseer asked, his voice raised. “That don’t make any sense!”

  “You know how hard it is to find laborers these days. You think the sheriff is gonna lease them to us?” Mitch said. “We all gotta be creative these days.”