by Daniel Black
“We hitched up de ole mule and buggy and rode ova to Bull’s place, and Lawd have mercy.” Jeremiah hesitated.
“What was it Granddaddy?” Sarah Jane alone was bold enough to ask.
“They had done hung de whole family, each person from a different tree.”
The children’s gasps sent chills over Jeremiah’s weathered, black skin. “Dat’s right. Seventeen bodies hangin’ from seventeen different trees.”
“But I thought you said Mr. Bull had seventeen kids?” Ray Ray inquired confused. “There should have been nineteen bodies—”
“The oldest two boys got away somehow, they said. Folks don’t know where they went and ain’t nobody heard from ’em since then. That was thirty years ago or more.”
“Did you see the bodies, Granddaddy?” Sarah Jane’s curiosity was unbridled.
“Couldn’t help but see ’em. I was in de wagon wit Daddy, and he made me look at every single one of ’em. I guess he was teachin’ me a lesson.”
“What lesson?” she pressed on.
“Neva play wit white folks ’cause they don’t play fair.”
Now Sarah Jane wished Clement had heard the story and maybe he, too, would have learned the lesson. Oh well, she thought, as they sat huddled together in Mr. Bull’s old shack. Cobwebs decorated the wooden walls, and the house was empty except for an old straw-bottom chair and a rusty woodstove. Folks said the house was haunted so that’s why it remained empty. But Jeremiah told his grandkids not to listen to other folks. Bull had been his best friend, and the house would protect them if they were ever in trouble.
Engulfed in darkness, the children sat and waited for further instructions. A mouse scurried across Sarah Jane’s leg, and she emitted a high, quick yelp before Ray Ray could say, “Be quiet! Nobody’s spose to know we here.”
Explaining about the mouse was useless, Sarah Jane knew, so she nodded silently and recomposed herself. Looking across the empty room, she imagined the activity it once held as a home to nineteen people. How much food did a mother have to prepare to feed that many, she wondered in awe, and where in the world did everybody sleep? “It could be fun, I guess,” she murmured, and shrugged her shoulders.
Clement squirmed a bit and whispered, “Sorry, y’all, I didn’t mean to get everybody in trouble.”
“Jes be quiet, man,” Ray Ray reiterated. “We gon be all right. Ain’t nothin’ we can do ’bout it now. Jes be quiet and wait.” Ray Ray’s nerves were frazzled.
“I’ma jes turn myself in,” Clement said matter-of-factly and shuffled to break away from the huddle.
Sarah Jane grabbed his arm with surprising strength. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Clement. Granddaddy told us what to do, and dat’s what we gon do.”
Clement’s resolve weakened. “All right,” he offered, and sighed deeply before resuming his place among his cousins.
“Jes be quiet,” Ray Ray repeated fiercely.
Chop wanted to ask how much longer they would have to wait, but his big brother’s tone convinced him to keep his wonderings private. Crossing that river was the scariest thing he had ever done, so whatever awaited them in the future they could survive, Chop concluded. He knew Clement felt bad, but because he had carried him across the river, Chop had totally exonerated him in his heart. He wanted to apologize again for squeezing Clement’s neck so hard, but fear of Ray Ray’s anger made Chop hold his tongue.
Ray Ray now wished he were the youngest. He knew that everyone’s safety was his responsibility, and he would have to answer to his father and grandfather if anything happened to any of them. That’s why, every ten seconds or so, he rose from the huddle and peered through a broken window, hoping to see Granddaddy or Ella Mae or somebody familiar.
As though instinctively, Sarah Jane began to hum faintly, “Couldn’t hear nobody pray, couldn’t hear nobody pray! I was way down yonder by myself, and I couldn’t hear nobody pray.” She knew the melody because her grandfather sang the song daily, forcing his family to endure what they called the voice of a bullfrog. But now the song served a function greater than anything she would ever have believed. Sarah Jane didn’t even understand what the words meant. Not until now. Neither did Ray Ray, but he allowed the murmuring because it reminded him of home and kept the brooding silence from driving him mad. If he could just hear Miss Mary call his name, he thought, he would never ask God for another thing. “I was way down yonder by myself … ,” Ray Ray mumbled audibly. Then he chuckled. He now knew that, in order to understand the song, you had to know something about trouble.
“Y’all pray,” he suddenly told the others. “Say it out loud, but say it softly.”
None of them had mastered the art of praying, but now was not the time to be shy. Clement bowed, and whined: “I’m sorry, Lord, for all of this. I didn’t mean to bring trouble. I was jes getting a soda—” His voice cracked, and Sarah Jane rubbed his hand. “Don’t let nothing happen to my folks,” he resumed. “I was jes comin’ down here for the summer to play with my cousins, Lord. It wasn’t spose to be like this.” He paused again. “Lord, watch over my grandma and grandpa, Uncle Enoch and Aunt Ella Mae, Ray Ray, Sarah Jane, and Chop. Amen.”
“Amen,” Ray Ray and Sarah Jane muttered.
Then Chop offered with a nervous sincerity, “I-I-I d-don’t know hhhow t-to pray, Llllawd, ’c-c-cause I-I-I ain’t neva prrrrayed out lll-loud f-f-for a whole b-b-b-bunch o’ p—p—people befo, b-b-but please d-dd-don’t llllet n-n-obody hurt us ’c-c-c-cause wwwwe ain’t d-d-done n-n-nothin’ wrong.” He took a deep breath as Sarah Jane encouraged him on. “Clement d-didn’t mmmean to c-c-c-cause no trrrrrouble, Lawd. He wwwwas j—jes b-b-bein’ mannish, Lawd, b-b-but he’s my fff-favorite c-c-c-cousin. And Lawd, I-I knnnows d-d-dat white p-people c-c-can be rrrreal mmmmean sssssometime, b-b-but mmmake them nnnicer ’c-c-cause I-I-I d-don’t wanna d-d-die t-t-today. Amen.”
The other three looked at him in awe. “That was real good, Chop,” Ray Ray affirmed. “Real good.”
It was Sarah Jane’s turn. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, but she certainly knew the power of prayer. Bowing her head humbly, she began, “Matchless King”—she got that phrase from her grandmother—“we come before You now as empty vessels before an ever-flowing fountain. Jes like You hung the stars in space and set the sun in the sky, look after us now. We ain’t always done what we should, but we strivin’ every day to be more like You.”
The boys enjoyed the familiarity of their grandmother’s words. Sarah Jane even sounded like Miss Mary, Clement thought.
“Thank You for my mother and father, who already in heaven, and for my cousins who helped me across the river tonight. I’m scared right now, God, and I don’t want nothin’ to happen to none o’ us. Please keep Your shield of protection around us. Don’t let hurt, harm, or danger come our way. Forgive Clement for what he did and don’t let nobody bother him.”
She glanced up to see if Clement was paying attention, only to find him staring directly at her. She felt compelled to continue.
“Grandma always says You’ll fix it if we jes ask. Well, Lawd, I’m askin’ You right now to fix this situation and let us get back home safe and sound.”
“Amen,” the boys chimed.
“ … and while You fixin’ thangs, Lawd, don’t let us have hatred in our hearts. I know what white folks keep doin’ to colored people, but don’t let us get like them. Amen.”
Standing watch at the window, Ray Ray affirmed Sarah Jane’s prayer with a quick, soft grunt.
“You don’t see nobody yet?” Clement asked, simply to hear his own voice.
“Not yet,” Ray Ray said. He looked at the full moon and wished for the ability to fly away.
“Some glad mornin’, when this life is over, I’ll fly away!” Miss Mary sang valiantly every morning. She would throw her head back dramatically and declare her flight plans as a threat to the natural order of things. Ray Ray loved how his grandmother sang, wondering if her conviction would one day grant her wings to
fly away. Sometimes he smiled as he listened, almost laughing at Miss Mary declaring her hope in things normally impossible. But what if, one morning, she jes flew away? he pondered. What if God gave her wings jes because she believed and never stopped hoping? The more Ray Ray thought about it, the more sense it made.
Then, simultaneously, he and Sarah Jane began to hum the hymn. Their heads jerked to stare at each other, but their souls never lost harmony. “I’ll fly away, Oh glory, I’ll fly away. When I die, hallelujah by and by. I’ll fly away.” Chop cried and Clement rocked in thanks for hearing the song in another time and place. Sarah Jane whispered the second verse in the call and response tradition: “Just a few more weary days and then—”
Ray Ray answered in another key, “I’ll fly away.”
“To a home where joy shall never end—”
Ray Ray smiled and mumbled, “I’ll fly away.”
And together they finished the chorus: “I’ll fly away, Oh glory, I’ll fly away.” Their heads swayed to the rhythm. “When I die, hallelujah by and by. I’ll fly away.”
In the distance, Ray Ray saw the yellow print of Ella Mae’s old housedress.
“They’re here!” he whispered intensely, and the others jumped with delight.
Ella Mae motioned for them to remain still and quiet. Once she approached, her silence exposed that all was not well. Ella Mae’s panting revealed more about her internal woes than her poor physical condition.
“Momma, it sho is good to see you!” Ray Ray reached for the hug he needed desperately, but Ella Mae refused him.
“Listen to me, children.” She was still panting. “This family’s in a lotta hot water. We got a long road ahead of us, and I ain’t sho what’s ’bout to happen. What I am sho about is dat we got to stick together. Don’t care what happen, we got to stick together. Y’all understand me?”
“Yes ma’am,” the children returned.
“D-d-did D-d-daddy and Grrranddaddy k-k-kill those wwwwhite mmmen?”
Ella Mae wasn’t sure just how much she should tell, but since the children were in the middle of the ordeal, she thought they should know. “Yes, they did. One got away, but the others were killed.”
Sarah Jane clasped her mouth while Clement hung his head in shame. “I woulda put de nickel in her hand, Auntie, if I knew it was gone be like this.”
“I told you to go back in there and—” Sarah Jane fell silent before her temper exploded.
“We ain’t got no time fu that right now, y’all,” Ella Mae corrected. “We got to get outta here and stick together. Clement”—Ella Mae put her right arm around his shoulder lovingly—“this ain’t yo fault. If it wasn’t you, it woulda been some otha Black boy or Ray Ray or anybody. This is ’bout us as colored folks. And that’s how we gon fight—standin’ together as colored folks. So stop blamin’ yo’self, you hear me?”
Clement nodded, unable to speak. Sarah Jane rolled her eyes.
“Look here, young lady!” Ella Mae snapped. “Ain’t nobody perfect, includin’ you! Git off dat high horse o’ yours and get clear dat we standin’ together as a family. Yes, Clement made a mistake, but so have all of us. But that don’t mean he ain’t in de family no mo! Once you in dis family, you in it forever. And if you in it, you fight for it! It don’t make no difference if you agree or not. Anybody come against dis family got to fight de whole family. We stands as one. You understand me, girl?”
Sarah Jane hesitated but offered a weak, “Yes, ma’am.” She looked at Clement’s water-streaked face, and said passionately, “I ain’t really mad at Clement, Auntie. I’m jes scared.”
Clement grabbed her in his arms and, together, they wept until Ella Mae said, “Let’s go.”
Like Harriet Tubman leading anxious slaves to free territory, Ella Mae tiptoed quickly around the side of Bull Black’s old shack, with the children mimicking her careful steps. She stopped, peered deeply across the dark, empty field, and without announcement hoisted her dress above her knees as she led the way back to the river. The children crossed again, this time in a shallower place, each one borrowing enough of Ella Mae’s confidence to do it with relative ease. Anxious but cautious, they moved through the woods easily, hoping the night brought no more surprises.
Five
“WHERE WE GOIN’, DADDY?” ENOCH ASKED WHEN JEREMIAH directed him to turn the worn, weathered wagon down a narrow, weeded lane. “Jes do what I tell you, son,” Jeremiah whimpered. He hadn’t meant to be short, but the pain in his side left him little room for sensitivity.
They rode on in awkward silence. Enoch kept looking behind him, afraid that, at any moment, those bodies might rise and mock him and Jeremiah for thinking themselves empowered enough to destroy white life. He just wanted to dump them somewhere and bring the matter to closure. Yet his father’s face carried a slight smirk that, if Enoch hadn’t known better, he would have read as pleasure. He didn’t understand it. From the moment they left home, Jeremiah chuckled along the way, sometimes loud enough to startle Enoch and confuse what he thought should have been Jeremiah’s dismay concerning everything. Staring at his father yielded no clarity since Jeremiah’s eyes bespoke absolutely nothing. No regret. No confusion. Nothing. Enoch didn’t ask Jeremiah about his strange disposition, for, in truth, the son sensed that something in the world—or at least in Money—was shifting before his very eyes. He had never seen his father relaxed in the midst of chaos, so maybe now, he thought, he’d learn the secret of Black survival in the racist white South.
“Right over there,” Jeremiah said, pointing the flashlight toward a thick grove of cypress trees in the distance.
Enoch winced in agony as he manipulated the reins and directed the mules to the appointed spot. Bringing the wagon to a halt, he sat perfectly still, waiting on instructions from a man who seemed to have perfect peace.
“We’ll throw ’em out right here, boy,” Jeremiah announced lightly, and descended from the wagon.
“Ain’t we gon bury ’em or at least cover ’em up?” Enoch asked while struggling to remove the tarpaulin.
“Hell naw, we ain’t gon bury ’em! We ain’t wastin’ no goddamn energy on these worthless crackers! Shit!” Jeremiah’s bandages, like a corset, bound his midsection so tightly he could hardly move, yet he did what he could to help unload the bodies. “I’m tired o’ kissin’ white folks’ asses, and I’ll be damned if I do it when they dead.”
Enoch studied his father’s expression and concluded that he had simply snapped. Jeremiah Johnson had never been vindictive, and Enoch never would have guessed that they would simply discard the bodies like dirty dishwater. After having followed instructions obediently, he hoped his father might volunteer an explanation of what they were doing and why.
Jeremiah turned off the flashlight, leaving them in utter darkness. “You know where we went wrong, boy?” He sighed deeply, leaning on the side of the wagon. Enoch thought the question rhetorical although the long pause made him unsure. He played it safe and said nothing.
“We shoulda showed these white folk years ago that they couldn’t kill us and get away with it. That’s where we went wrong, boy. Right there.” He lifted his head toward the sky as though thanking God for the revelation.
“When we came outta slavery, we shoulda came out whippin’ ass.”
Enoch groaned.
“That’s right!” Jeremiah declared. “When white folks started lynchin’ our boys and rapin’ our girls, and we wuz free? We was spose to do more than pray. See, prayer don’t mean nothin’ to somebody who don’t respect God noway. And you see God ain’t gon do nothin’ you ain’t willin’ to do first. I done learned that. That’s why God ain’t moved on colored folks’ behalf like we want Him to! ’Cause colored folks ain’t moved on colored folks’ behalf like we spose to! We been teachin’ these crackers that they can come in our houses and take our chillen and we ain’t gon do nothin’ ’bout it. That’s why they keep comin’! They done learned that God ain’t gon stop ’em if we ain’t. We sit around like
scared li’l chickens waitin’ on momma hen to come and protect us. But we got to grow up sometime. And today I’m a grown-ass man who done decided that ain’t no white man—or any other man—gon harm my family without feelin’ the wrath of me! Now maybe they’ll kill me, too, but I’ll die in peace knowin’ that my children was proud of me.”
Jeremiah’s tone had changed from lightheartedness to vehemence. Enoch had a feeling this was more guilt concerning Jerry than fear for Clement.
As though reading his mind, Jeremiah continued with, “That’s the only regret I done had to live wit my whole life—feelin’ like I didn’t fight for my boy the way I shoulda. I was spose to go over there—not Jerry—and kill dem peckawoods years ago. He was spose to watch his daddy stand up for him, come what may, so he’d know how to be a man when his turn came. But I was too scared, Enoch. I didn’t want nothin’ to happen to the rest o’ y’all, so I held my peace. But white folks didn’t respect my silence. That’s why these crackers came to de house tonight—’cause they thought I wunnit gon do nothin’. Just like last time.”
Jeremiah cackled at the profundity of his own words. “But we surprised they asses, didn’t we boy?” He laughed loud and long, while Enoch watched him transform into a self-assured colored man. Then his expression changed abruptly. “This ain’t gon be easy, boy. These white folks ’round here ’bout to be fightin’ mad ’bout Black folks protectin’ theyselves.” He turned on the flashlight and looked at Enoch. “But that’s okay ’cause I’m mad, too. Shit, they can’t be madder than me!”
