by Ginny Dye
Sadie’s voice ground to a halt. Then it rose indignantly. “Why, who ever heard of such nonsense!”
Rose lifted her voice against the murmur of agreement filling the clearing. “What if it’s true?”
Miles turned toward her. “How could you say such a thing, Miss Rose?” he asked. “Who ever heard of a slave wanted to go back to slavery if he finally got hisself free?”
Rose looked at him thoughtfully. She had spent many hours thinking about this. “What do you think it would be like if you were free, Miles?”
Miles looked at her carefully now. “Well, I think it would be the greatest thin’ in the world. I would be responsible only for myself. I could come and go as I please. I could have horses of my own - not have to just take care of Marse Cromwell’s. I could have me a wife – maybe even find June…” His eyes clouded over as he thought of his wife, June, who had been sold a few years before to parts unknown.
“What if you didn’t have any money, Miles? What if you never owned a horse of your own? What if no one wanted to be your wife? What if you had to work all the time just to survive?”
“That ain’t gonna happen, Miss Rose!” Miles protested.
Rose persisted. “But what if it did? What if it did?”
Miles gave a frustrated sigh. Several long minutes passed while he stared into the fire. Finally, he looked up. “Then so be it. Even if I had nothing - I would have myself. I would have my freedom. That means more to me than anything. It would mean people would look at me and see another human being - not just a thing.”
Rose smiled tenderly. “Hang on to that, Miles. You may need it someday.” She gazed intently at the rest of the group. “All of you need to be asking yourself that question. You say you want to be free. Why? Being free doesn’t necessarily mean all our troubles will be over. It just means we’ll have the opportunity to handle them on our own. The man in that story didn’t figure on freedom being hard. He thought it was the answer to all his problems. When he found out that it wasn’t he ran back to what he had always known. My Mama says it’s kind of like Israel wanting to go back to Egypt. It was horrible, but at least they knew what to expect and they could always blame their misery on someone else.” She paused and looked around again. “I can teach you how to read and write. You have to teach yourselves how to think. You have to ask questions. Lots of them. But my Mama says it doesn’t do any good to ask questions if you aren’t going to look hard for the answers. We’ve all got to be doing that. The day may be coming soon for some of you to be free. Are you sure that’s what you want? You’d better be.”
Rose’s little school stared at her in the darkness. Flickering firelight illuminated the confusion on their faces. They had never heard Rose talk like this before. She had challenged them plenty of times, but she had never been quite so harsh with them. Rose felt a slight twinge of sympathy for her students but she pushed it down. The questions she had thrown at them were important ones – ones that demanded answers. Daily, she battled the frustration that she had come up with the answers for herself - only to realize the answers made no difference.
Moses, watching Rose closely, knew exactly what she was doing. His own Mama had done the same for him. Even before his Daddy had been killed, she had pestered him with questions. Nothing he ever said could be taken for face value. She had to know why he had said it, why he felt that way, and what he wanted to come from those feelings. He understood the group’s frustration - but he also understood Rose’s motive. His Mama had told him that it was only when he stopped thinking for himself that he would be a slave. He could still hear her voice. “It’s only when they own your mind that they really own you, boy. They never owned your Daddy. And they’ll never own me! I’m not a slave, boy. I’m a human being. I just happen to live in slavery.”
Moses thought back over the night. He had wanted to turn around and run when he and Rose were walking through the dark woods. He knew he was committing a crime deserving of a beating – at least in his Master’s eyes. His feet had kept him moving even though his heart screamed at him to run, to not do this thing that would guarantee enmity from the man Sarah had cautioned him about. Still, his feet had moved forward steadily, his heart pulling him toward a destiny that was still murky darkness.
Moses wasn’t sure when he had started to give up. He wasn’t sure when he had started to feel like a slave. But tonight Jasmine had changed all that for him. If that little thing of a girl could read, well, then so could he! Watching her draw her letters carefully in the dirt had fired a determination in him. It was just a small flicker, to be sure, but at least it was burning. He had thought he would never feel again after seeing his family led away from the auction block. Now, he had a dream that was slowly taking shape...
The rest of the night flew by as each student worked hard on their letters or took turns reading from the paper Rose had brought to school. They didn’t care that they had to share. Anything to read was considered a miracle.
Rose settled back against a tree as the last of her friends slipped into the cover of darkness. She knew they were all taking different paths through the woods and that they would all come out at a different place around the Quarters. They had all become skilled at slipping undetected into their cabins. There may have been those who suspected what was going on, but so far none had revealed their secret.
Rose was tired. Each day in itself was exhausting. Her work was endless. She knew she had it easier than many of her friends who were field hands, and for that she was grateful, but it did nothing to ease the exhaustion with which she ended each day. Her little midnight school was where her heart was but in spite of the joy she felt when one of her students was suddenly reading, the energy it took was draining.
“That’s a mighty big sigh.”
Rose started at the sound of Moses’ voice. She had almost forgotten he was there. He would come and go with her until he knew his way around in the woods at night.
Moses stared deeply into the waning flames. “You got a dream?” His strong voice was both thoughtful and serious.
Rose looked at him, wondering if she should take the risk of telling him. Would he make fun of her? She decided to be honest. “Yes. I have a dream.” Closing her eyes, she allowed it to take shape in her mind. She could see it all - as clearly as if she were actually living it. “I’m going to be a teacher. I’m going to live where I’m free and I’m going to have a whole school of free black children who are eager to learn and break the shackles that have held them for so long. I’m going to have all the books and writing material I can use. I’m going to raise all my children in freedom. And I’m going to travel!” The dream continued to flood her mind. “I’m going to travel all over the North. I’m going to see New York. I’m going to Philadelphia. And Boston. And maybe go all the way out to the Oregon Territory!” Suddenly she stopped and laughed. “You must think I’m a fool,” she murmured, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t.
Moses shook his head. “No. From where we be sittin’ right now your dreams seem impossible. But my Mama used to say that’s what dreams were fer. To make the impossible seem possible. She believed dreams could come true. Somewhere’s along the way I quit believin’. Maybe it was that night I saw my Daddy hangin’ from a tree. He died trying to make his dreams come true. I guess any I might have had died with him dat night. My Mama tried to keep them goin’ but it just didn’t make no sense to me”. He stopped and stared at Rose thoughtfully. “But you...... you gots what it takes to make your dreams come true.”
“What about you, Moses? What do you want? Even if you quit believing in your dreams, you must still have some.”
“I wouldn’t had no answer for that till t’night. But somethin’ stirred in me while I be here.” A deep silence fell as Moses struggled to put his feelings into words. “I’m gonna be free fo’ my Daddy. An’ then I’m coming back. Comin’ back to get my Mama and sisters. No matter what it takes. One day we’s all gonna be free!”
Rose’s he
art ached for him. His next question caught her by surprise.
“You gonna be running off on that Underground Railroad?”
“No.” It hurt to even say the word and she caught her breath against the pain.
Moses looked at her in surprise. “But you said yourself that it was people willing to help slaves be free. How come you gonna pass up a chance like that? I figured you’d be the first one to go.”
“Well, you figured wrong!” Rose knew her voice was sharp. Moses’ question had stirred up the turmoil that had boiled in her soul all night.
Moses said nothing else but Rose knew he was watching her closely. She turned and looked into the deep eyes regarding her so carefully. Rose felt a slight sense of panic that those eyes could read her so well. Part of her wanted to turn and run as fast and as far as she could. Another part wanted him to see every part of her. “I can’t go, Moses,” she finally whispered. “I could never be free as long as my Mama is a slave. I will never leave her. I will do what I can here to help my people, but I will never leave my Mama.”
Moses nodded. “I understand,” he said simply. “I understand, Rose.”
Rose took comfort in believing him. Somehow, it lessened the pain of her decision.
No more words were spoken as the two scattered the remains of the fire so as to not leave a trace of their presence, and traveled back along the path they had arrived on. If anything, Rose was more careful. Anyone up and around in the Quarters would be sure to hear the betraying crack of a limb. Breaking out onto the edge of the clearing above Sarah’s cabin, Rose came to a standstill. She motioned with her hands to indicate Moses was to keep going. He touched her arm and then melted into the shadows along the edge of the woods. Rose watched only for a moment before she turned and disappeared back into the woods. It would never do to return on the road leading to the Quarters. It would be too easy for someone to spot her.
Rose slipped from the woods just behind the Big House. She glanced up at the window where she knew Sam was watching. Sam didn’t care anything about learning to read, but he did care about taking care of her. The old butler had watched her grow up from a child. She edged carefully across the yard to the back door. Sam always made sure it was open for her. Under his careful tutelage Rose had learned which boards to avoid if her steps were not to create alarming creaks in the house. Not until he heard the soft closing of the door to her tiny room, would Sam move away from the window where he had watched so carefully. Rose was late. He would wonder what kept her out so late.
Eulalia Adams couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know how long she had tossed and turned in the darkness. Dread kept her awake. It was late and her husband wasn’t home. She knew that meant trouble.
Just then she heard the sound of horse hooves pounding on the road. Oh God, let the children stay asleep. She remembered the terror of her own childhood. She didn’t want that for her own children, but the relentless cycle was continuing ...
A muffled curse as her husband stumbled onto the porch confirmed her worst fears. He used to only get drunk on Saturday nights. Now, he would sometimes stay gone all day Sunday on drinking binges and return home late in the night.
Eulalia tried to control her trembling as she waited. Maybe he would just fall into a drunken stupor and pass out quietly on the bed. Oh, she knew there would be hell to pay for everyone who came in contact with him the next day, but perhaps she and the children could be spared this time.
“Woman!” Ike’s slurred roar erupted from the main room of the clapboard house.
Abandoning all hope of a reprieve, Eulalia jumped up and hurried into the room, hoping to keep the children from being waked up.
“Why ain’t my dinner done, woman?” Anger twisted Ike’s face and caused his narrow gray eyes to become mere slits.
“Ike!” Eulalia exclaimed. “It must be after three in the morning. Dinner was put away a long time ago.”
“Yeah?” he growled. “Well get it out again. How’s a man to survive if his own woman don’t get him food?”
Eulalia bit back the angry words that rose to her lips and turned toward the kitchen table.
“Those mingling Yankees are at it again!”
Eulalia busied herself cutting fresh slabs of cornbread and pouring a large glass of milk. She was used to her husband’s tirades.
Ike’s bitter voice continued. “That bunch of nigger’s I brought to Cromwell yesterday? There was a big one in the batch. Moses is his name. He’s going to be trouble. I know it. My brother told me to keep an eye out on him. That nigger’s Daddy was a bad one! Killed a man up in those parts when they were trying to hang him. I heard that old nigger had the very devil himself in him. Said there was no other way he could have killed that man without their being a devil.” He paused. “Woman!” he roared, “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”
Eulalia choked back a bitter retort and turned to him. At least she had the cornbread cut. If she was lucky he would fall asleep before he wanted more. She moved across the kitchen briskly and placed the plate in front of him.
Ike reached up and grabbed her wrist in a cruel hold. Eulalia gasped but didn’t utter a word or make a move. She knew it would only fuel his anger.
“You hear what I said about that nigger?”
“Yes, Ike.” Eulalia had seen his anger and bitterness grow stronger and deeper each day. Ever since he had lost their farm and slaves, and gone to work for Cromwell. The bitterness ate at him like a blight. She was afraid of the hate growing in him. He had never been what you would call loving but he had treated her and the children well before. Now they were nothing more than additional targets for his anger.
“That nigger came here to get me! That Moses fellow is after me.”
Eulalia knew better than to tell him that was ridiculous. She knew those slaves had had no choice about where they were sold when they stepped onto the auction block. She also knew there was no convincing Ike of that when he was drunk.
“He’s a big one, he is. But I got me something bigger.......” Slurring his words, Ike suddenly reached down and whipped out the pistol he kept concealed in his waistband.
Eulalia gasped and shrank back in fear. Lantern light gleamed off the shiny metal and added an almost demonic glimmer to her husband’s glowing eyes. “Ike! Put that thing away!”
Ike laughed roughly and pulled her toward him. “You think I’m going to let that nigger get me?” Pressing the gun barrel into her temple, he continued his low, mean laugh. “I’ll just be waiting till that nigger steps out of line. He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’ll put a bullet right through his head. Cromwell will just have to deal with it.”
Eulalia froze with fear. She knew if she moved that his unsteady hand might pull the trigger. Oh God........ Motionless, she held her breath as she prayed. And waited. Visons of five year old Matthew and eight year old Betty Ann asleep in their snug beds rose up to both haunt her and give her the strength to remain silent.
After what seemed an eternity Ike sighed and lowered the gun. Rubbing his face as if suddenly confused, he released her wrist. Quickly, Eulalia stepped out of his reach. Watching him carefully, she knew the long binge of alcohol was taking its toll. Ike stared sightlessly at the food in front of him. His face muscles seemed to droop along with the rest of his body. Eulalia watched as sleep overcame him. She made no effort to move his drunken body from its position at the table. Let him sleep it off there. She would make sure the children stayed in their rooms longer in the morning. Or maybe she would spirit them out the back door to play. She could bring them breakfast outside. They knew. They wouldn’t even ask questions. They had learned a long time ago that the answers didn’t make sense.
TEN
Carrie rose quietly just as the morning was casting its first rosy hues onto the horizon. She was careful not to make a smidgen of noise as she dressed and pulled her hair back into a loose braid. No one would see her. She would make sure she was back before the rest of the house began to stir. She had alwa
ys loved to rise early. This morning, especially, she needed the quiet solitude found when the whole rest of the world was still asleep.
She eased the door to the room open, and looked back to see if any of her friends were stirring. Satisfied they were still deep in slumber, she moved down the hallway, descended the stairway quietly, and carefully closed the big door behind her. She had escaped detection, and now she turned to skip lightly down the stairs of the wide porch.
“Oh!” A delighted gasp escaped her lips. Motionless, she watched as the early morning sun, still lurking below the horizon, teased the wispy clouds into a mural of pink and orange flames casting their light onto a purple canvas. Early morning mist from the river rolled through the trees and shrubs, beckoning her to come explore the mysteries of the world. Carrie smiled, flung her arms out to embrace the morning, and then ran down the stairs and across the wide expanse of lawn. As she approached the edge of the lawn she stopped and glanced back once more to make sure no one was watching.
What was that? Had she seen a drape fall? She stared hard at the house and then laughed at her imagination as she turned and headed down the wooded trail leading to the river.
