by Peter Troy
Seventy thousand. Auctioneer says.
But sixty-five’s the highest bid now. So more parts. Meanin’ the first batch of slaves. Meanin’ Daddy. Micah can hear the auctioneer tell how he’s the best levee operator in the state, probably. Great carpenter too. Loyal. And so forth. And Micah feels proud of him again. Especially when the bidding hits a thousand dollars. Folks start talkin’ about how even the biggest field hand didn’t go for a thousand. But Daddy does. Eleven hundred dollars, to be exact. And when he’s gone, the piece-by-piece auctionin’ comes to a stop again. And the auctioneer starts askin’ for his new price of sixty-four thousand.
It takes a little while for Micah to let the pride go. ’Til he realizes what really just happened. What it means for Daddy. And the rest of them.
The auctioneer seems to hope that the man who bid sixty-five last go-’round will have at it again. But sixty’s all he’s willing to go now. With Micah’s Daddy and the six best field hands gone. So it’s more parts. Meanin’ Micah this time.
A young field hand with much potential. Is how the auctioneer describes Micah. Look at those shoulders, gentlemen. This boy’s gonna make a fine strong hand in a few years.
And Micah’s got an angry look on his face. Not just from the idea of bein’ sold. Or even from his Daddy bein’ sold. But from having the auctioneer say he’s gonna make a fine strong hand. Like he didn’t already do a man’s work, and then some. Then the overseer whispers something in the auctioneer’s ear and his eyes open wide.
I’m told this young buck is the son of Samuel, sold not long ago. So that’s a boy who knows about hard work and knows a thing or two about operating levees and locks … carpenterin’ too. A fine investment this one is. Now do I hear four hunnerd?
After a few seconds a man near the front calls out four hundred.
Do I hear four twenty-five?
Four twenty-five. Another man says.
Very good, now I want four fifty. Do I have four fifty?
And on it goes for a minute or two. The man who bought Daddy and another man, bidding back and forth. Past five hundred. Six hundred, even. Then the man who bought Daddy starts shakin’ his head when the other man bids seven hundred.
Couldn’t get that much for’m in Mississip’. The man who bought Daddy says. And that’s that.
Sold at seven hunnerd to Mister … Auctioneer says.
Dunmore.
Sold at seven hunnerd to Mr. Dunmore of …?
Virginia. Charlottesville.
Mr. Dunmore of Charlottesville in the great state of Virginia. Auctioneer says with flair. And Micah gets taken over with the rest of the slaves who already got sold.
Did the man in the blue suit git ya? His Daddy asks him. The dealer from down Mississip’, did he git ya?
It was a man named Dunmore. Micah says, shaking his head. From Virginia.
His Daddy takes the news like a punch to the belly. And Micah can see him half-breaking right before him. Cryin’ again now. So that’s twice in sixteen years, all inside the same month. And that’s when this all becomes real to Micah. It ain’t about the pride of his Daddy bein’ put in the first group. Or him bein’ in the second. Not anymore. Now it’s about realizin’ that Daddy’s goin’ to Mississipp’. And he’s goin’ to Virginia.
It’s gon’ be awright. Daddy says, putting his arm around Micah’s shoulders. The same broad shoulders that put him in the second group to start with. The Lawd’s gonna watch over yo’ Momma an’ Bellie … leastways.
They look back up at the porch where the auction continues, ’til Micah’s lot gets all sold off. Then there’s some more furniture and four of the best horses from the stables. And Mista Tilton consults with the man keepin’ the books at the table next to him.
Fifty-six thousand. He shouts, and the crowd seems more interested than before.
Fifty-four. Someone says, and the auctioneer shakes his head.
Fifty-five. Another says. But no.
Finally, Fifty-six. The man from before says, and the crowd cheers a little.
Your Momma an’ Bellie’re safe. Daddy says, squeezing Micah to him. They gon’ stay right ’ere. The Lawd kept them togetha, at least.
How ’bout the indigo fiel’, Daddy? Micah asks. Like he’s still holdin’ out hope. Like maybe if he and Daddy can harvest what’s there, plus what they been doin’ all these years. That maybe it’ll be enough to buy the two of ’em back. And it can be the four of ’em all together again.
At’s done now, Son. His Daddy says. When Massa Leroux pass, ’at deal die wit’ him. We done speculated like a coupla white gennlemen o’ business. Like dem men jus’ bought you an’ me. Only we lost. We lost dis here speculation, Son.
Micah stands still, not entirely sure what his Daddy means.
Fifty-six thousand, five hunnerd! Another man from the crowd shouts.
Fifty-seven! Another says.
Fifty-seven! The auctioneer says, smiling bigger than ever.
Fifty-seven, five hunnerd!
Fifty-eight!
Fifty-eight! The auctioneer repeats, giddy now. Where were you gentlemen earlier?
And the crowd laughs.
’At’s right. Micah’s Daddy mumbles. Where was dey befo’? He looks down at Micah and shakes his head. Dey’s speculatin’ a little too late fo’ us.
And inside Micah there are no tears. Just an icy, far-off stare. Looking at nothing in particular. Not even wondering what his new world will be like. Not much caring. Just cold and dark. Deep inside.
MICAH HADN’T SPENT MUCH OF his sixteen years engaged in conversation. Not with Daddy and Bellie around to do all the talkin’. And Micah preferred to listen anyway. Still, it was one thing to hear the playful chatter of his family. And another altogether to hear the stories of such a man as Clarence Dunmore. With him chained to the bench of the livery coach. First time Micah ever rode in a covered carriage. And it was sittin’ across the width of it from his new Massa. Watchin’ him sip from a flask. Left to hear the man’s life story. While all he could think about was how this man took him away from his Daddy and Momma and Bellie. And this man not knowin’ anything about the number. ’Bout the almost thousand pounds of indigo that was supposed to be his inheritance.
Massa Dunmore was a man to be feared. Which he kept sayin’ to Micah over and over. Tough as any soul in Albemarle County—even th’entire state of Virginia. He said. Over and over. Especially after he took a swig from that flask.
He stood five foot eight or so. Two inches less than Micah right now. And Micah with one last bit of growin’ still to come. Or so his Daddy used to say. But Dunmore was powerfully built, with thick arms and shoulders. Wide in the hips and chest. Unlike Micah. And Dunmore had meaty fists and a scowl fixed on his face, too. The kind that’d make few men want to mess with him even if it was Dunmore that started it.
They pulled into the train station in Charleston and the bustle of it all was unlike anything Micah had ever seen. For a moment or two, he stopped thinking about his mother and sister back home. Or his father on his own way to Mississipp’. Just stood there mesmerized by all that he saw before him. Then Dunmore got angry at the train attendant. Began yanking on the chains that bound Micah’s wrists.
Now dis here is my investment—an’ I ain’t gonna risk him jumpin’ off when the train slows down. Dunmore shouted at the man, standing a little straighter and pausin’ for a second when he said the word investment.
Sir, the rules say he hasta ride in the livestock car with th’other slaves. The attendant said, looking like he didn’t want to get Dunmore any more upset than he already was. We have leg irons installed there, so there’s no need to worry. He added, sweet as pie.
Well I wanna look at whachu got set up, ’fore I let you take ’im. Dunmore growled.
And they walked to the rear cars. Dunmore jabbering to the attendant about how he had outbid a fancy slave-dealer from Charleston. How he spent seven hundred dollars on Micah.
That’s a lot for a field hand. Th
e attendant said. And Micah shot the man a dirty look at the back of his head.
Well I ain’t gonna USE him as a field hand. Dunmore snapped. This boy got special skills he learnt from his father. This boy gonna be my carpenter’s apprentice and he’s gonna make me a lotta money.
You a carpenter? The attendant asked.
’At’s right. Dunmore responded, glaring at the attendant as if the question was meant as an insult. What of it?
My Pa was a carpenter. He answered. Tried to make me one, but I wadn’t any good at it, so I joined the railroad instead.
And Dunmore smiled. Nodded his head.
Well, it takes a certain kinda man t’be a carpenter. He said. And took the metal flask from his inside pocket. You wanna nip?
The attendant looked behind them up the length of the platform and turned back to Dunmore.
Don’t mind if I do.
He took a long swig from it and handed it back to Dunmore. Who took a swig too.
You know, Mister …
Dunmore.
You know Mr. Dunmore, between yer two second-class passenger tickets, you could cash ’em in an’ get one first-class cabin for just a half dollar more.
But then I’d still hafta pay cargo charges for ’im. Dunmore replied, nodding toward Micah.
Well, see—I’m th’attendant in the first-class cars. Cain’t take him up there, ’course, but I could probably sneak you both into one of the compartments once we get rollin’. This way you can watch’m the whole time.
An’ jus’ what’ll that cost me?
Well … you got any more of that there rum? The attendant asked.
Dunmore opened his jacket and revealed another flask just as large as the first.
Been doin’ this same Charleston-to-Richmond run an’ back for three years now. The attendant said. It gets t’needin’ a little somethin’ t’break up the boredom, ya know? ’Course, if they ever found a flask or bottle on me I’d lose my job, but …
Door’ll be open. Dunmore said. Plenny more where this came from.
Throughout the rest of that afternoon, and on late into the night, Micah got to hear Dunmore’s story told all the way through. Twice, since Dunmore would say it all over again to the attendant when he slipped in to drink some of the rum. Seemed that Dunmore could sum up all his problems on this earth in the form of just one person. His older brother. Seemed their father had given all his forty-five acres and thirteen slaves to the older of his two sons.
Goddamn pre-mo-gen-ee-tore’s what they call THAT. He scowled.
So Dunmore was left with two thousand dollars to begin his life. While his older brother was given everything else. Didn’t help matters that his brother expanded the plantation. Got lucky enough to start growing cotton right around the time the prices for it began steadily rising. While Dunmore moved north to Virginia. Bought a few acres of land. Only didn’t make it as a farmer ’cause the bank, the sheriff, and the goddamn weather was all conspirin’ against him. Had to sell most everything but the house he built for himself. And that was when he began doing carpentry work all the time. All around Charlottesville. Built a steady income. Figured he was as good a carpenter as any man he’d come across.
Then his brother died of pneumonia. And Dunmore didn’t bother going to the funeral. But he was sure to be there when his brother’s will got read. Sure enough, bastard passed everything down to his wife. Holdin’ it all in trust ’til his own son reached the age of twenty-one. All Dunmore got out of it was a thousand dollars. When his goddamn brother was worth fifty sixty times that much. And just to see how much that bastard had cheated him out of, Dunmore went to the auction at Les Roseraies.
A goddamn stupid name for a place. He said. Angry at Micah, like it was him, somehow, who came up with the name for the place he got born.
But his brother’s place was almost as big as Les Roseraies. So Dunmore stuck around, like he wanted to feed that anger. Watching all that money get raked in at the auction. Hating his brother more with every new sale. ’Til he saw an old man get sold for eleven hundred dollars. A ridiculous amount for a man half his age. But then he started hearin’ some of the men in the crowd talk about the old man. Sayin’ he practically ran the place. Sayin’ they ain’t never seen even a white man who got his kind of skills when it comes to runnin’ the levees. Buildin’ them, even. Any kinda carpentry.
That was his Daddy. Dunmore said to the attendant between slugs from the flask. An’ I figger he musta taught th’boy plenny. Ain’t dat right?
Micah decided he didn’t want to speak any words to this man when a simple nod would do. Which was what he gave him. But then Dunmore, with no hesitation or sign of exertion, flicked the back of his right hand hard across Micah’s face. Just like he was swattin’ a fly. Only Micah felt his cheek burn instantly. And his eye began to tear up from the force of the blow.
When I ask you som’nin you better ansa me. He muttered angrily.
Yessuh. Micah replied.
And the attendant laughed. Took another swig. Then stepped out of the compartment.
An’ don’ go thinkin’ you gonna get my Daddy’s name neitha. He said when the attendant was gone. My no-’count brother done that. He gone an’ give ’em all my Daddy’s las’ name. So now they’s a whole buncha black-as-night niggas wit’ the name Dunmore. Well, ain’ gonna be one more. You gonna stay just what you was when you was listed in the property back ’ere. You jus’ ‘Micah, a slave.’ Jus’ like ’ey say on ’at property list.
And Micah didn’t say anything at first. Then thought better of it.
Yessuh.
CHARLOTTESVILLE, VIRGINIA
OCTOBER 19, 1853
Micah had only ever heard about South Carolina and Louisiana before. He wasn’t sure if the long train ride had taken them any closer to Louisiana. Or Mississipp’, where his Daddy was headed. But he knew that they couldn’t be anywhere near Charleston. Not after a full day ridin’ that train.
His Daddy had told him that they’d see each other again someday. But Micah couldn’t find that kind of hope within him. Even from the first moment his Daddy said it. For the first time in his life, not believing his Daddy. Not believing that the Lawd was watchin’ over them the way Daddy always said. And that got him to thinking that maybe he was less like his Daddy than he’d always thought. And maybe more like Dunmore. Angry. Disbelievin’. Like the folks Momma said th’Devil got holda and never let go. So maybe that’s why God had sent him off to be with Dunmore. ’Cause they was two of a kind.
Charlottesville was much smaller than Charleston or Richmond had been. Still, it seemed a wild and grand place compared to Les Roseraies. And Dunmore reveled in his return as they walked from the train station. Down along a few major streets. Micah still chained at the wrists. Dunmore leading him by the elbow like he was showing off a prized sow. He didn’t speak to many people. Only nodded sternly at a few as they passed. As if to say, that’s right. This one’s mine. ’Til they came upon a saloon and Dunmore unlocked one of Micah’s wrist irons. Fixed it to the hitchin’ post out front. Went inside and announced that he was buying a round for all his friends. To celebrate his new investment.
And for the next two hours or so, Micah sat along the storefront curb. His left arm stretched out above him, chained to the hitchin’ post. While every so often Dunmore brought men to look him over. Made Micah stand up and turn around every time. And Dunmore would tell the man all about the plans he had. And how he was a man of property now. Until finally, Dunmore walked out by himself with a full bottle in his hand. Went into the butcher’s shop across the street. Came out of there with a large, newspaper-wrapped packet. And they walked the rest of the way through the town. Out to an area with several small farms all connected to one another. A mile or more outside the busiest part of town. When they came upon Dunmore’s single-story house. Not much bigger than the slave cabins back at Les Roseraies. Though this one had four glass windows and a chimney.
You know how t’cook? Dunmore asked.
Nosuh, Micah said.
Well ’at’ll be the first thing I teacha. Dunmore said. An’ ’at’ll be the last time I do any cookin’ ’round here.
Right around the time the sun was dropping down over the hills, Micah could hear the sound of barking dogs off in the distance. He was washing the two pans Dunmore had used to cook steak and pan bread. While Dunmore sat on the porch with a jug he had taken from inside. And as the dogs got closer, Micah looked out through a window. Saw two men approaching. Each of them holding leather ropes attached to two dogs apiece. And Dunmore stood up now.
Well s’about time you boys got ’ere. He shouted above the barking. I thought maybe ya didn’ get ma message.
Oh, we heard all right. Heard you done a little shoppin’ down in Carolina. One of the men said. And they all laughed.
My bastard of a brother lef’ me a thousand dollars. Y’believe dat? He musta been worth sixty sevenny thousand, an’ he leaves me a thousan’.
A thousand’s still a nice bit o’ change. The other man said.
Not compared to sevenny thousan’, it ain’t, Tom. Dunmore answered.
No, not compared to sevenny thousand.
But I’m gonna turn ’at thousand into a lot more’n ’at. Dunmore said. Micah! Get out here!
Micah placed down the rag he was using to scrub the pans and walked out onto the porch. Made sure to say. Yessuh?
Take off that shirt and give it here. Dunmore ordered.
Micah quickly complied. Then Dunmore looked at him through squinted eyes. Like Micah had done something wrong again. He tossed the shirt to one of the men holding the dogs.
See these two gennlemen here? Dunmore asked.
Yessuh.
They Mr. Tom n’ Albert Embry. The fines’ slave-catchers in all Virginia. You ever run off, boy?
Micah began to shake his head but then remembered better. Nosuh. He replied.
