by Dickie Erman
“Here. Put down the bowl and dry your hands. I want to talk to you for a bit” with a reassurance that she wasn’t in trouble. He patiently waited as she dried her hands, her eyes staring at the floor.
“Now, sit down, here” as he pulled a chair out from the table. He scooted another chair out for himself, but placed the back facing her. He straddled it, resting both arms on top.
He’d always been faithful to Collette, although flirtation was entirely acceptable by both sexes of the landed gentry. Many times he’d enthusiastically watched her, or other wives, ‘cornered’ in a parlor room by a male guest, pretending to blush but fully returning the flirtation. It was socially harmless. But his interest in Amana wasn’t simply flirtation. Nor was it harmless.
“Amana, you’ve been our house servant for nearly a month now. Mrs. Winters and I are pleased with the way you’ve adjusted, you know, carried out your duties. Quite a bit different from the field work, right?”
“Yes, sir” now becoming a bit concerned about where this conversation was leading.
His voice became even lower. “I know how hard that work was for you”. He slowly reached for her left cheek, and gently stroked it with the back of his fingers.
“You’re trembling” as she continued to stare at the floor.
“There’s no need to be afraid”. He touched her chin and slowly lifted her head. “I need you to look at me” he said softly.
Amana was tough and hardened. She’d toiled at the flaming hot kettles, nearly collapsed with thirst in the sweltering heat of the cane fields. She’d been beaten, punched, kicked and whipped, with thick raised scars on her otherwise beautifully smooth back. But this was torture of another kind.
If she resisted, she’d likely be hauled back to the field, back to Tolivar’s fits of unpredictable rage. Even worse, the backbreaking work, the intolerable food, and the unsanitary conditions were enough to regularly contemplate suicide.
“I’ll say it plainly, my dear. You know you’re an attractive young woman. I don’t know if you find me attractive, or if you’ve even thought about it. But as much as I love Mrs. Winters, and I do love Mrs. Winters, I have certain needs that she can’t always provide. That’s just a fact”.
Life inside the mansion was heavenly compared to field work. She’d only heard the term ‘house nigger’ from the other slaves, or Tolivar. Never from the Colonel or the Mrs. No, to them she was a ‘servant’, a title she could easily live with.
But to be the Colonel’s secret mistress was unthinkable. Sooner or later, somehow, someway, Mrs. Winters would surely find out. And then what?
“They’ll come a time when I’ll call on you. Don’t worry. Mrs. Winters won’t be home, I promise you that. Do you understand what I’m saying?” he said softly.
No answer.
“Amana?”
“Yes ‘em” having returned her gaze to the floor. Again, he lifted her chin to gently command eye contact. Her beautiful brown eyes were full with water, but no tears flowed.
“Good” as he removed his hand and allowed her to lower her head, again staring at the floor.
“I don’t need to tell you what would happen if I ever learned you’d spoken one word about this to someone … anyone … and that includes …” He didn’t need to finish his threat.
“No sir. I understands” she softly replied. “I understands”.
With that, he stood up while swinging his leg around the seat of his chair. “I think you should get back now to your dishes” he smiled, sending her a flirtatious wink.
19
T ABARI HELPED TOLIVAR UP and onto the buckboard, then mounted his own horse.
Tolivar slowly pulled the carriage forward for three blocks, then turned left towards the river, leaving behind the quaint houses and small churches where he’d just dropped off Collette. Now turning right, he passed a hotel, a blacksmith shop, and then came to a stop in front of the same saloon he’d met the Doctor a week or so ago.
“I wonder” he chuckled to himself, wondering if the Doctor might be making his ‘rounds’ in the saloon at this very moment. “Stay here with the horses” he ordered Tabari. “I’ll be back in a few minutes”.
He pushed upon the swinging door with his right arm. Sure enough, the Doctor was there, sitting in the same chair at the same table as before. Although this time, he was drinking alone.
“Hi ‘ya Doc” he said, smiling as if he’d just run into a long lost friend.
“Who are you?” the Doctor slurred, squinting his eyes to get a better look.
“Tolivar. Doctor, it’s me, Tolivar”.
It all came back to him. Tolivar. The Colonel. And that messed up leg that he’d amputated.
“Ah, so it is. Well, pull up a chair” he offered, his lost hopes of further employment now partially rekindled. “How ya’ been?”
“Well, I’s hopin’ I might find ya’ here. Ya’ see, I was drivin’ the Colonel’s wife, Mrs. Winters that is, here from the plantation. About half way, we was accosted by a gang of, oh, I dun’ know, maybe ten marauders, see?”
The Doctor motioned the bartender to bring Tolivar a beer.
“Er, thanks” Tolivar said, appreciating the Doctor’s hospitality. “Anyways, I was able to fight ‘em off and escape, but not before one of ‘em clocked me real good” cradling his left forearm. “It’s broke”.
“Ten of ‘em, you say?” the Doctor replied with a smirk to expose Tolivar’s exaggeration. He glanced at the arm.
“Well, there’s nothin’ I can do here” as a waitress placed a beer in front of him. He slid it to Tolivar.
“Finish that, and we can go to my house. Probably can’t do anything but set ‘ya up with a wooden splint and sling. And plenty of alcohol … for medicinal purposes, of course” he chuckled. “You got a hotel lined up?”
“No, I’ve got one of the Colonel’s darkies with me. They ain’t gonna let him stay in no hotel”.
“Well, if ya’ want, you can stay at my house. There’s a small shed out back where your nigger can stay. We can grab us some food here to take back. You plan on returning home tomorrow, I suspect?”
“Well, yea. But real slow”, again grabbing his wrist. The Doctor began scribbling something on a paper, then slid it to Tolivar.
“What’s this?”
“My bill for medical services, includin’ food and lodging, for both you and your ‘guest’. Please make sure the good Colonel pays promptly”. Tolivar just smiled.
* * *
THEY arrived at the Doctor’s home just at sunset.
“What’s his name?” the Doctor asked, looking at Tolivar’s guest.
“Tabari. His names Tabari”.
“Tabari, take the horses down the street a ways to the blacksmith” the Doctor ordered, pointing to his right.
“Tell him you’re with Doctor Wesley. He’ll get ‘em stalled and fed. Then come back here for some food”.
Tabari froze. A slave, in an unfamiliar town, travelling by himself without a white master. Tolivar also looked anxious.
“It’s alright. There’s plenty of free blacks in this city. Nobody will think nothin’ of it”.
“Well, you heard the man. Get movin’!” Tolivar hollered.
Tabari jumped onto the buckboard, took the reins, and turned the rig around, moving slowly down the street.
The Doctor opened the door and stepped in.
“Well, it’s not much, but it’s home to me. You can sleep there” pointing to a wooden bench against the wall with old torn blankets thrown haphazardly on top. He grabbed a kerosene lamp, lit it, and placed it on the small table next to Tolivar’s bed.
“Anything to drink, Doc?”
He pulled out a bottle of corn mash whiskey. “I should add this to your bill”.
Tolivar drank straight from the bottle. He almost felt his throat explode by the time the concoction finally reached his stomach. He shook his head back and forth, then relaxed.
“Jesus” was all he could muster.
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“Not too bad, eh? This brew was given to me by the father of one of my patients. Sort of an expression of gratitude for me savin’ her life, ya’ might say. Hey, you still want me to rig a splint for your arm?”
“You know what, Doc? I think it can wait ‘til mornin’. I’m not feelin’ much pain right now”.
A little later, Tabari knocked on the door.
“Come in”.
Tabari entered, and nodded to the Doctor that he’d taken care of the horses.
“Mr. Tolivar, there’s food here from the saloon. Help yourself. I’ll give some to your nigger, but he ain’t eatin’ or sleepin’ in my house.
“You. Come with me”. He led Tabari to a small wooden shed behind the house, then handed him a chicken leg. “You can sleep in here. Thar’s water over there” pointing to a leather bucket half full of stale rain water.
The Doctor returned to his house. Tolivar was still sippin’ whiskey.
“Don’t mind if I do” the Doctor said, snatching the bottle from Tolivar’s greedy hands. He chewed off a mouthful of chicken, swallowed, and slugged down three large gulps.
Tolivar laid on the bed, his back slumped against the wall. A shit-eatin’ grin on his face showed he had no more earthly cares, at least for this night. A few more bites, a few more swigs, and the Doctor set the bottle on the small table next to Tolivar’s bed.
“Good night, you drunken bastard”. He knew Tolivar couldn’t hear. He shuffled into the next room and plopped down on his own bed, and passed out within minutes.
* * *
AROUND three in the morning, Tolivar stirred. He had to pee something awful. He sat up, beyond groggy, and tried to grasp where he was and how he got here. He felt his legs constricted by the blankets, and tried to pull off them off with his left hand. That effort stopped instantly, as the pain shot up his broken arm, the effect of the booze having worn off.
He swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand up. Entangled, he fell forward, knocking over the table and lamp. Kerosene spilled from its container onto the wooden floor.
Instantly the fire spread, the flames leaping higher and higher, the floor serving as kindling wood. He stupidly tossed a blanket and tried to stomp it out. It too caught fire, and further fueled the blaze which had now reached a nearby wall, igniting the cheap curtains.
“Doctor, Doctor! Get out! Get out!”
The Doctor was snoring. Tolivar continued to yell, not knowing where the Doctor was.
He opened one eye, and saw the flickering bright orange glow from the next room growing intensely. “What the hell?” He bolted up and quickly shuffled toward Tolivar.
“Get out! Get out you fool! Get the hell otta’ here” the Doctor yelled, as both men raced past the flames and out the front door.
“Jesus! What did you do?”
Tolivar stood dumbfounded, but now sober enough to remember where he was and what just happened. “The lamp. I accidentally knocked it over”.
“You idiot!”
The Doctor furiously scanned back and forth, looking impotently for some way, or something, to douse the flames. There were no volunteer bucket brigades to come to the rescue. It was all over in less than fifteen minutes. No neighbors had even stepped outside to see what was going on.
“Tabari!” Tolivar started to run to the small shed, when he heard him.
“I’s right here sir”.
“Well, thank God for that. That’s one less thing the Colonel’s gonna be mad about”.
The men sat on the ground, staring speechless at the remaining glowing embers and slowly rising black smoke. Hardly a word was said until the nighttime darkness started to fade and daylight showed the scene in clear view.
“Well Doctor, looks like you’ll be travelin’ with me back to the plantation after all. That is, unless you’ve got other plans”.
“Other plans?” he asked incredulously. “I’ve just lost everything. Furniture, paintings, books”. He paused to ponder what he’d just said out loud. He began to sense a real opportunity here.
“Yup. Some of my medical books are near’ irreplaceable” (he had none). My medicines (none), instruments (none), and diplomas (none) are all gone, never to be used or appreciated again”. He looked at Tolivar. They both knew Tolivar didn’t have a pot to piss in to pay for the damage.
Tolivar tried to redirect the conversation.
“Well, I guess we’re both in a fix. I burned your place down, and the Colonel ain’t gonna’ be much too happy ‘bout that.
“On the other hand, I saved Mrs. Winters’ life. Guess he can’t be too unforgivin’, with that in mind”.
“Hmm … maybe we can both come out on top” the Doctor remarked, cunningly.
“How’s that?”
“Maybe you didn’t burn my house down”.
“Meaning …?”
“Your darkie. Maybe he did it.
“Damn” Tolivar thought. The plan seemed brilliant in its simplicity.
“It’d be his word against ours. A white overseer and a respected physician”. Tabari was out of ear shot.
“I’ll have a good talk with him. I’ll let him know what I’ll do to him if he tries to lie to the good Colonel. Why, this just might be one a’ those blessins’ in disguise. You get a new house, lots of money to replace your lost property, and get to stay at the plantation until your new homes built.
“Like I said … well … you’ve seen firsthand, the Colonel’s got lots and lots of money. And I get a good raise and well deserved respect for my heroism”.
“The blacksmith should be rising soon” the Doctor said. “Let’s get that arm of yours splinted and head for home”. They gave each other congratulatory smiles, full of themselves and their unexpected good fortunes.
* * *
THE two headed back toward the plantation, Tabari in tow.
“Not even a bottle of whiskey” the Doctor mourned to himself, sweat dripping off his dirty head.
Tolivar sensed his discomfort. “Don’t worry, Doc. Just ‘bout an hour or two more to go”.
“You spoken to him?”
“Not yet. But this is a good a time as any”.
Tolivar pulled the rig to a stop under the shade of an old oak tree. He gingerly stepped down from the buckboard and sat on top of a boulder. “Tabari, get off yer horse and sit here a spell”.
Tabari obeyed, and sat down next to Tolivar, clueless as to what he wanted.
“The way I looks at it, you owe me. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d likely be dead. You saw that nigger they killed yesterday, right about this very spot”.
Tabari nodded nervously, still not knowing where this conversation was headed.
“Now I tell you this, not because I have to, but because I don’t wanna get in no trouble with the Colonel. The Doctor and me is gonna tell him that you accidentally burned down his house”. Tabari froze in disbelief.
“Now, we all know that ain’t true. And if I wanted, I could just end your life right here and now, and tell the Colonel those same men jumped us on the way back. But I don’t wanna have to do that”.
Tabari was dumbfounded.
“It’ll do you no good to say otherwise. The Colonel ain’t gonna take the word of a slave over me or the good Doctor, here. Am I right?”
Tabari nodded fearfully. “Yes sir. But I didn’t do it”.
“That’s alright, that’s alright” Tolivar tried to reassure him, about to reveal the genius behind the plan.
“When I tell him all about me savin’ Mrs. Winters, then accidentally burning the Doctor’s house down won’t seem so important to ‘em. Sure, he’ll be right mad, but I’ll softin’ the blow by tellin’ him I’m gonna whip you real good.
“Now, the good news for you is, I ain’t gonna whip you. I’ll just tell him that I done it. You got it?”
What could he say? True enough, the Colonel wouldn’t take his word for it. Tolivar could kill him right here and now. But what if the Colonel wanted to see proof of a whippin?
”
“What if the Colonel wants to see my back, all bloodied and scarred?”
“He won’t. First, ‘cuz he’ll forget all about it. He’s got too many other things on his mind to be rememberin’ about you. Second, if he does asks me, I’ll just tell ‘em I need you healthy to finish some plantin’ work that needs done. Trust me. That’ll be the end of it”.
“Trust you” Tabari muttered to himself. “I’d probably be better off high boltin’ it right now on my horse. You can’t catch me on no carriage”.
Escape was always on his mind. It was on every slave’s mind. But where could he go? Where could any slave go? He knew that the whites relied heavily on written words. He knew they were powerful. But he couldn’t read. None of them could. He couldn’t carry enough food and water to get far. He’d have to steal food. He’d always heard that ‘north’ was the way to head.
But to what city? By what course? And how far was freedom? Surely he’d be caught.
He’d also heard rumors about that ‘Fu Gi Tive’ slave law that the white drunkard mentioned. A black runaway thief. He’d be beaten and hung on the spot. Worse yet, returned to the plantation where Tolivar would whip him to near death, let him heal up, then repeat the punishment.
“No, this here nigger’s gonna stay put” he silently moaned. “I’ll just have to take my chances”.
20
T ABARI REMEMBERED. The more he thought about it, the less he trusted Tolivar. The Colonel would surely have him whipped.
He thought again about how he’d been captured in Africa, and how he’d been sold so many times. What he didn’t know, was what had become of his mother, his family, the village.
Afobali had confirmed that all the village’s men were gone. They’d left for temporary employment in neighboring farms or mining camps. Some would be gone for several weeks, some for months.
He was certain of this, because he’d spoken with men who worked at these places. They weren’t on his payroll, but were happy to disclose what they deemed benign information, especially when Afobali showed up with cheap alcohol or other tempting gifts.
