Slave Girl

by Patricia C. McKissack

  Clarissa and the boys have been here since the 4th. They go home today. Nobody will be unhappy to see the backs of their heads. While I served breakfast to William and his nephews, I heard William talkin’ ’bout ridin’ Dancer by himself. “When you ride up in front of our house in Richmond, then we’ll believe he’s your horse,” said Richard.

  I hope William is not goin’ to be silly enough to ride Dancer that far by himself. Should I tell Miz Lilly, so maybe she’ll speak to him ’bout it?

  Second Monday in July

  All of the guests are gone home now. We spent the mornin’ straightenin’ up the guest rooms. It’s sick hot, but no matter, I have to weed the house garden. The hat Hince gave me really helps. I hardly ever take it off.

  Somethin’ was eatin’ up my tomato vines. Uncle Heb say put tobacco juice on the leaves. I’d seen him use it before on his roses. So I bit off a piece of tobacco and chewed it to make the juice. Lord, I swallowed some. My head started swimmin’ and my stomeck heaved up everythin’ I had eaten for breakfast – two days ago.

  I’ve never been so sick in my whole life. Thought for a minute, I was dyin’. How can anybody chew tobacco? I won’t ever again. The worms can have the tomatoes.

  Tuesday

  I saw William down at the stables. He was talkin’ to some of the hands. I thought maybe I should tell Miz Lilly what I overheared.

  “I think he may try to ride Dancer over to Richmond,” I told her.

  “Don’t be foolish, Clotee. William wouldn’t try to do a dangerous thing like that.” She made me brush her hair before she sent me away. Maybe she’s right. But somehow I don’t think so.

  Early Thursday mornin’

  We polished silver all day. Miz Lilly went over every tray, pitcher, bowl and candlestick. She found one little spot on a silver tray that I had cleaned and she slapped me so hard I saw stars. I don’t get hit often, but when I do, I try to be like Spicy and not let her see me cry. “Spicy is bein’ a bad inflewance on you,” she said, and slapped Spicy, too. Miz Lilly is awful ’cause she know we cain’t hit her back. If one of us whacked her back across her face, I bet she wouldn’t be so quick to hit. I got to be careful not to put ideas like hittin’ the Missus in my head. Aunt Tee say if you think ’bout hittin’ back, you’ll soon strike-out, hit back. And to fight a missus or a mas’er means death for sure.

  Next evenin’

  Durin’ dinner, Spicy and I served hot bread and poured water for the Henleys. We came in on Mas’ Henley and Miz Lilly fussin’ ’bout William gettin’ somethin’ called a tooter. When Mas’ Henley said no, Miz Lilly would not let it be.

  As the word-fight ’tween them heated up, Spicy took off the soup bowls and I served the fried chicken. Miz Lilly won that battle.

  Later, the three of us – Spicy, Aunt Tee and me had our supper together. Whenever Aunt Tee fries chicken for the Henleys, she fries the chicken neck, gizzard, liver and the-last-part that goes over the fence, and makes a thick brown gravy for us. Eat that with some biscuits and honey – good eatin’.

  Spicy and me had Aunt Tee bent over laughin,’ pokin’ fun at Miz Lilly’s faked faintin’ spells. Spicy did a perfect Miz Lilly swoon. “Ohhhh, he’ll be the first Monroe not to get into Overton School!”

  I played the Mas’er. “My mind is made up – William will not have a tooter.” Then I belched and raised up a hip and pretended to pass gas.

  “You girls is a mess,” Aunt Tee say, hangin’ up the dish towel and blowin’ out the kitchen candles. I stretched out on my straw-filled pallet next to Spicy.

  “Anybody know what a tooter is?” I had been waitin’ for the right moment to ask. Nobody knew. I’ll add it to my list of words. I figured it had somethin’ to do with William’s schoolin’. Wonder will it mean I cain’t get no more learnin’?

  Day later

  Spicy and I spent the evenin’ workin’ in the house garden with Uncle Heb. We helped him tie strips of old rags on a measure of line to shoo the critters away. He told us stories ’bout a spider-man that could talk. Uncle Heb say his mama told him these old spider stories. He say his mama come from Afric. Say white men fell upon them one day and threw nets over her and some other girls. Then they put them on a boat and brought them ’cross the big water. Say that’s how all our peoples got here. We come here from Afric on white men’s boats.

  I once heared Aunt Tee talk ’bout the Afric woman named Belle who taught her ’bout root doctorin’ and birthin’. I aine never seen nobody that was natural-born Afric. I’d like to though.

  Monday, July 18, 1859

  I found out what a tooter is. It is a tutor. Miz Lilly wrote it for William. He’s a teacher. Heared Miz Lilly tellin’ William durin’ lesson that his name is Ely Harms. And he’s comin’ here in August. He’s comin’ from a place called Washington, D.C. I know from lessons that’s where the President of the land lives in a big white house. Reckon does this Mr Harms know the President?

  Miz Lilly say the tutor will stay here on the place and his only job will be to teach William. I hope I’ll get to fan them durin’ their lessons, so I can go on learnin’.

  Wednesday

  The Missus has had Spicy and me busy for the past few days cleanin’ her own personal room. We stayed busy for hours, scrubbin’ the floors, beatin’ rugs, airin’ mattresses and re-stuffin’ pillows.

  At the end of the day, Missus called me to her side. “You know that your mama and I were the best of friends?” she said. “You’re smart, just like her.”

  “Why’d you let her go?” I don’t know what come over me. Aunt Tee is right. If you think on a thing, you’ll end up doin’ it. How many times had I thought about askin’ her that question? Now I’d dared to ask it. The words just popped right out of my mouth. It’s a wonder she didn’t slap me. Instead she just gave me a warnin’. “Must not be sassy, Clotee.” Then she studied my face. I was sure my eyes had turned into windows and she could see all the letters and words tumblin’ ’round in my brain. So I closed my eyes, too scared to move.

  “Yes. You’re different from the others. I never know quite what’s goin’ on inside that little head of yours. But it makes me wonder.”

  Miz Lilly is scary like a bad dream.

  Later

  Come to find out, Miz Lilly promised to give Spicy the same white handkerchief with purple and yellow pansies on each corner if she brought her things ’bout me.

  “I’m not a tattler,” she said. “Besides that’s the ugliest handkerchief I ever seen!”

  So Miz Lilly is lookin’ for somethin’ on me, now. I trust Spicy not to tell. But who else has she tempted? I got to be so careful. I just wrote D-A-N-G-E-R. I see Miz Lilly’s face.

  Thursday

  At least I’m learnin’ from Miz Lilly. I learned today that there’s no such word as knowed. It’s knew. I never knew that. I do now.

  Fourth Saturday in July

  Somethin’ awful done happened. I knew it. Knew it. William has left here, ridin’ Dancer over to Richmond – showin’ off.

  It started when Hince and Mas’ Henley were gone ’way to a race. William went to Uncle Heb, sayin’ his daddy had said he could ride Dancer. I told Miz Lilly he’d do it, but she didn’t b’lieve me. So, Uncle Heb saddled up Dancer. Last we seen of the boy, he shot out of the stables and down the drive. I got a real bad feelin’ aine nothin’ good comin’ out of this for nobody.

  Early the next mornin’

  Miz Lilly sent Rufus and other riders out to follow William, but couldn’t no horse in the county catch Dancer. All we could do was wait. Not long, the horse came trottin’ back up the drive, draggin’ William’s body like a sack of rags. It was clear the boy had fallen off, but his foot had gotten caught.

  Everythin’ that happened next is a blur. Somebody went to fetch Dr Lamb – but it took over two hours for him to get to Belmont. Meanwhile, Aunt Tee did everything she could to help. Spicy and I stood in the shadows of William’s room, ready to fetch and hold whatever the doctor needed.


  I heard Miz Lilly ask, “Will he live?” I prayed that William would live. I hope God will forgive my selfish reason. I prayed William would live ’cause I knew Mas’ Henley would make our lives miserable if his son died.

  “Oh, yes,” the doctor said, pattin’ Miz Lilly on her arm. “He’ll live. William’s a tough little character.” I felt better. Miz Lilly’s shoulders relaxed, too. She looked at me and for a second I looked straight into her eyes. I dropped my eyes quickly, ’cause we aine s’posed to look Mas’er and Missus in the eye. But for that quick second I seen somethin’. I seen that she knew that I knew that I had warned her ’bout this, and she had not listened. She was thinkin’ ’bout it, too.

  “But,” added Dr Lamb. We all listened to what was comin’ next. Sadness clouded the doctor’s face. “I’m not so sure William will ever walk again.”

  Miz Lilly really did faint. All I can think ’bout is that it’s gon’ be awful when Mas’ Henley gets home.

  Day later – Monday, July 25, 1859

  When Mas’ Henley heared ’bout William, he went straight ’way to the barn and shot Dancer, a single bullet in the horse’s head – like that was gon’ make William well again. We could hear Hince cryin’ over that horse most of the night.

  Then Mas’er come lookin’ for Uncle Heb – got it in his head that Uncle Heb was to blame for what happened to William, so he came to kill him – just like the horse. Me and Spicy done learned that in times like these it is best to stay out of the way. We watched everythin’ from the room over the kitchen – holdin’ one another, tremblin’, tryin’ not to cry out.

  Po’ Uncle Heb tried to say what happened, but Mas’ Henley went to beatin’ him with the barrel of the gun – beatin’ him all in the head. I heard the licks – hard licks over Aunt Tee’s screamin’. Uncle Heb fell down, and Mas’ Henley kicked him and pointed the gun at the ol’ man’s head.

  “Don’t kill him, please,” Aunt Tee begged for her husband’s life. For some reason he didn’t pull the trigger. He might as well have though, ’cause Uncle Heb died in Aunt Tee’s arms a hour or so later. His big heart just stopped.

  Later

  Mas’ Henley come to the kitchen to see Aunt Tee when they told him ’bout Uncle Heb dyin’ and all. He come sayin’, “I lost my temper a bit. I wasn’t really goin’ to kill the old man. You’ve got to believe that.”

  When Aunt Tee didn’t say nothin’, he raised his voice in an angry way. “My boy is up there, unable to walk ’cause that old man let him ride Dancer. He’s to blame. He should have known better.”

  Blame? Mas’ Henley don’t care nothin’ ’bout the real truth. He just make the truth what he wants it to be. The truth is, Mas’ was the one who brung Dancer to Belmont and gave him to William. Mas’ers can do that. But Mas’ Henley will never make me b’lieve what I know aine so.

  “Now, you listen to me,” he say, pointin’ his finger in Aunt Tee’s face. “I don’t want you holdin’ what happened to Uncle Heb against me, you hear? That old man just died. I didn’t kill him.”

  Aunt Tee looked at her master long and hard – like she was lookin’ at him for the first time. “You aine got to worry, I won’t poison you. I aine that low-down and ornery.”

  Rufus tells us to hate the sin and not the sinner. I hate slavery so bad, it’s mighty hard sometimes not to hate the slave masters – men like Mas’ Henley.

  Sunrise Tuesday

  We held Uncle Heb’s funeral this mornin’ when it was mornin’ but not yet day. ’Fore we had to go to the fields and to the kitchen, we stopped to say farewell to Uncle Heb. He was like a lovin’ grandfather to me.

  Women from the Quarters came last night and helped Aunt Tee get Uncle Heb’s body ready for burial. The men folk went to the cemetery to dig the grave. All the folks from the Quarters came and we sat and sang and prayed. Rufus talked ’bout the peace of death – no more sufferin’ – no more pain. I fanned Uncle Heb’s body, keepin’ the flies away – up and down, up and down. Then I dared to touch him. I’d never touched a dead person ’fore and I knew it would be scary, but it wasn’t. Po’ Uncle Heb. He felt hard and cold. Not like him. The him that used to be Uncle Heb had flew up to heaven.

  At the time when Aunt Tee say she was ready, we wrapped him in a clean white sheet and put him in a cart and carried him to the plantation cemetery where all Miz Lilly’s people are buried – her father and mother and grandfather. Miz Lilly came – had nerve enough to cry. Mas’ Henley didn’t even bother to show up. How could anybody think we were lucky livin’ close to people like them?

  One sweet song –

  Still by the river

  waitin’ for my Saviour

  to come for me.

  Goin’ home, goin’ home

  to be with God.

  Rufus spoke kindly over Uncle Heb, sayin’ how good he was and how he had lived. I could feel the hot tears behind my eyes, thinkin’ all the while that Uncle Heb would still be alive if Mas’ Henley hadn’t killed him.

  Aunt Tee just looked off into space – thinkin’ her own thoughts – never once cryin’. She had cried dry. Hince took it real hard. Uncle Heb had been like a grandfather to him, too – all of us, really. Spicy did what she could to comfort us, even though she had her own sorrow to bear.

  Everybody kept sayin’ Uncle Heb was free at last. Why do we have to die to be free? Why can’t we be free and live?

  Wednesday

  For the first time as long as I can remember, Aunt Tee didn’t fix fried chicken and whipped potatoes today. I wasn’t the onlyest person to notice it, either.

  Thursday

  I’ve been tryin’ to piece together all that’s done went on for the last few days. No time to grieve, ’cause our work aine never stopped. Mas’ Henley wants his food served on time and the Missus wants her house cleaned, her bed made, her water brought up for baths and on and on and on – no end to the work she thinks up for us to do.

  Aunt Tee misses Uncle Heb so much, she just shakes with hurt. Then she sings a lot –

  Help me, help me, help me, Jesus.

  Help me, help me, help me, Lord.

  Father, you know that I’m not able

  To climb this mountain by myself.

  Help me, help me, help me, Jesus.

  Help me, help me, help me, Lord.

  Nobody should have to live as a slave. If a slave can be an abolitionist, then I want to be one, ’cause I hate slavery and I want it to end.

  Friday

  Whenever I write the word F-L-O-W-E-R I will think of that kindly old man who grew beautiful roses and told the best stories ever.

  After the dinner meal, Spicy and I walked through Uncle Heb’s flower beds all the way down to the river. The sunflowers were turned toward the evenin’ sun. I remembered Uncle Heb called me his little Sunflower Girl. He said my face always looked like it was facin’ the sun – full of brightness. I squeezed Little Bit, my birthday doll, which I’ve come to carryin’ ’round in my apron pocket. I like the feel of the smooth wood on my hand. That would please Uncle Heb. My thoughts made me smile. Spicy found a four-leafed clover. It’s s’posed to bring good luck. We sure could use some ’round this place.

  Saturday

  Spicy and me took Miz Lilly’s bath water up to her room. She sent Spicy out, but she asked me to stay and fan her for awhile. Iobeyed.

  “Clotee, things are goin’ to change ’round here. But, I’m takin’ care of you. Don’t you worry. Just promise me you won’t say a word ’bout your talk with me ’bout William. I never dreamed that he would do somethin’ so stupid. STUPID!”

  I think Miz Lilly is worried that if Mas’ Henley finds out I had warned her ’bout William’s plan to ride Dancer and she’d done nothin’ to stop him, he would be really, really mad with her. Now she’s tryin’ to still my mouth with favours. What is gettin’ ready to change ’round here? And how is Miz Lilly gon’ help me? None of this makes me feel very good in the stomeck.

  Two weeks later

  I sa
w the calendar in Mas’ Henley’s office. We in August already. August 10, 1859. So much has happened since last I wrote in my diary. I knew somethin’ was comin’, but didn’t know what. Mas’ Henley done changed everythin’ – everythin’. Nothin’s the same.

  First, he moved Aunt Tee out of the kitchen. Say he cain’t trust her to cook for him no more, ’cause of what happened to Uncle Heb. He put her down in the Quarters to look after the babies. Then to make it worse, he done brung Eva Mae up to the kitchen to be his new cook.

  There’s more. Missy is takin’ Spicy’s place, ’cause Spicy’s been sent to the fields. I get to stay in the kitchen, doin’ what I been doin’. I guess that’s what Miz Lilly meant when she say she was gon’ take care of me. I’d just as soon go to the Quarters with Aunt Tee than to stay near Miz Lilly.

  Spicy aine sorry to be goin’ to the fields. She say she’ll miss talkin’ to me all hours of the night. I will miss spendin’ hours talkin’ to her under the stars. I will miss her stumblin’ and fallin’, then laughin’ ’bout it. Things will not be the same up here in the Big House without her.

  Aunt Tee is who I worry ’bout. This is the thanks she gets after all those years of service. Mas’ers don’t care how long and hard we work for them. They own us, so they can do whatever they want to us. That’s the worse part of bein’ a slave. Never havin’ a say in what happens to yourself.

  Third Monday in August

  Everybody knows that Eva Mae aine half the cook Aunt Tee is. But she likes to think that she is.

  It hurt me when Miz Lilly wouldn’t let Aunt Tee take the old iron bed she and Uncle Heb had slept in for years. The bed had been a gift from Miz Lilly’s grandfather to Uncle Heb for his years of service. Now Miz Lilly done gave it to Eva Mae and Missy to sleep in. It’s not right that Aunt Tee should have to sleep on a pallet at her age. When we abolitionists end slavery, everybody will have a bed to sleep in. Wonder will I ever get to meet a real abolitionist?