“How do you know all this about him?” said Hannah.
“Oh, from Sukey,” Alex said knowingly. “Old Gordon bought her years ago, so she knows tons of stuff about him. Anyhow, she wants me to go with her. She says it’s fun, and she needs someone to help her paddle upriver. Gordon doesn’t like her taking any of the guys with her, ’cause he’s always afraid they’ll run away, or at least, that he won’t get as much work done when they’re gone.”
Hannah grinned. “So that’s why he wants you to go. Because you’re pretty useless here.”
Alex aimed a mock kick at his sister. But then he said modestly, “Actually, I am kind of useless when you compare me to the guys. I do my best, but I’m still learning how to herd cattle and that kind of thing. Gordon doesn’t mind too much, ’cause he thinks he got me as a freebie. I just walked out of the woods one day. He thinks I’m a runaway, but he’s not seen any ads for me in the newspaper. He probably still hopes he can claim a reward for me when someone figures out who I am. Of course, I guess he also reckons that if he sells me to Mr. Osborn as a house servant he’ll make some money, and if someone else claims me as their slave, poor Mr. Osborn will be left holding the bill.”
“Wow, I hope nobody does try to claim you,” Hannah frowned. “Anyhow, I think he’s working you light because you’re a puny little guy.”
“Thanks a lot, sis,” Alex said, scowling. “I appreciate your support. Useless? Puny? I think you spend too much time around Brits.”
Hannah laughed, and admitted he might have a point.
Alex said, “So, how are you doing?”
His sister sighed, and flopped down on the grass. “Okay, I guess. Kind of bored. Jane is livening things up a bit. Before she got here, I was just working and waiting for Mrs. Gordon to die. Oh, and hey, sounds like you saw Brandon?”
Alex nodded. “He came by yesterday. He’s trying to persuade slaves to become Christians. Even me.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “He’s totally lost it, then. Alex, did you remind Brandon that you’re already a Christian?”
Alex made a face. “Yeah, sure I did, but he said Catholics don’t count.”
Hannah put a hand on her hip. “Next time he shows up with his little Bible, tell him to shove it,” she said irritably. “Like things aren’t bad enough, Brandon turns into Ned Flanders.”
“S’ok,” Alex said, “I didn’t pick a fight with him. I just smiled and nodded and talked about other stuff.”
“Hmm,” Hannah said. “That’s what Jane says I should do more. Don’t fight with people, she says, just kind of do my own thing.”
Alex smiled to himself. “Not a bad idea, sis. It works for me.”
Jane rejoined them then, breathless from her run to and from the river. “’annah, Sukey wants to talk to you,” she said, wheezing.
“What about?” said Hannah.
“I dunno, do I?” said Jane goodnaturedly. “Ask ’er yourself.”
As Hannah left, there was an awkward silence between Jane and Alex.
Alex couldn’t believe his sister had made friends with a thief and jailbird. Worse, he couldn’t help wondering if Jane was to be trusted. The only white people he knew he could trust were his sister and (weird though it was to think of him as white) Brandon. Alex had learned well from the other slaves: He saw how they were open and honest to each other and to him, but how differently they spoke to whites, and especially to Mr. Robert Gordon. They were always very careful about what they said, seeming to be friendly enough, but revealing nothing about what they really thought. Alex had met slaves before in his travels in time, and he had learned then that this was what people did to survive in slavery. But now he understood, fully and completely.
Jane interrupted his thoughts by looking past his head and pointing upward.
“What are them fings in the trees?” she asked, looking upward just as another pecan popped from its husk and plopped onto the bed of leaves below it.
“Pecans,” said Alex. “They’re a kind of nut. They don’t grow in England.”
Jane never asked how “Cato” would know whether pecans grew in England. She put a finger to her chin. “Tasty, are they?”
“Yes, very,” said Alex. “Here, I’ll show you.”
She followed him to the tree, where he picked up two pecans from the ground. Holding them in one hand, he squeezed them together, just as Tony had showed him how to do. The shells cracked loudly. Alex pried out some of the meat, and handed it to Jane, who cautiously sniffed at it, then popped it in her mouth.
She chewed thoughtfully. “Tastes like walnuts,” she pronounced. “Only not so bitter. Show me ’ow you opened ’em.”
Alex showed her, just as Tony had shown him. “Sukey cooks with them,” he said. “She made a kind of stew last night with pecans, cornmeal, and bits of venison jerky. You know, dried deer meat.”
Jane looked blank.
“It’s actually pretty good,” said Alex, chewing on a buttery morsel of pecan. “Well, better than most of the stuff we get to eat. I’ve hardly had any meat since I got here. I’m hungry most of the time, what with . . .”
And then he lapsed into silence, and looked downward. Would Jane report him to the Gordons for complaining? He didn’t want to take the risk.
But Jane was thinking of something else. Picking up a large stick, she aimed it at the tree, and then, with all her might, hurled it high into the branches. A small shower of pecans tumbled down, and she grinned at Alex. “’Ere’s somefing to eat,” she said. “Go on, get some.”
Alex couldn’t help but smile at Jane’s inventiveness. “I thought you were a city girl?” he said.
“I am,” said Jane. “That’s why I’m so quick-witted.” She winked at him.
They both turned at the sound of hoof beats, in time to see their master riding toward them. Jane looked unfazed, but Alex cringed inwardly. Anxiety washed over him as Mr. Gordon stopped his horse right in front of them, and giving them both a dirty look, pointed his whip at Jane. “Do not steal my pecans,” he said sharply. “They are my property, and they fetch a good price. They are not food for slaves and servants. And Jane, you should not be associating with the negroes. Go back to the house at once. My wife feels unwell and needs attending.”
Sukey and Hannah caught the end of this speech as they returned from the river, each hauling armloads of wet laundry.
“Sukey,” rumbled Mr. Gordon. “Remind the other slaves that they are not to eat the pecans.”
“We need something more to eat than pig fat and corn,” Sukey said sullenly. “We get weak and sick, then we can’t work.”
Mr. Gordon looked taken aback. He clearly hadn’t expected an argument. “Yes . . . Well, maybe you, Sukey, can gather some for the slaves’ meals and for the house,” he said uncertainly. “But the rest of the nuts are to be prepared for sale.”
With that, he turned the horse and set off back toward the house, passing Jane as he did so.
“What an old cheapskate,” said Hannah, frowning. “Like he doesn’t have enough money?”
But she did wonder how Sukey had gotten away with ordering the master around.
“Hey, where are you going?” she called to Jane’s retreating back.
“Mr. Gordon told her to go back to the house,” Alex replied, “to look after Mrs. Gordon. I guess she’s sick.”
Hannah groaned. “Oh, man. She’s always sick. She seems to get every illness going. I guess I better go help. Sukey, can I leave these clothes with you?”
“Put them inside,” said Sukey, with a resigned air. “On the log. I take care of them.”
When Hannah was gone, Sukey asked Alex to help her hang out the laundry on a rope strung from two trees. Alex was happy to help, but he was still shaking from his encounter with Mr. Gordon. “I didn’t know the pecans were his,” he said apologetically to Sukey. “But I guess everything here is his. Even us.”
“Not everything,” said Sukey, shaking her head. “See that ground over there? That
is where I grow my tobacco and my vegetables and beans. Mr. Gordon give it to me as my own ground, and I keep what I raise there.”
“But you’re a slave,” said Alex, confused. “Why would he do that?”
Sukey looked at him calmly, and gave a bitter smile. “He remembers Cato’s Rebellion. Not you, of course, Alex, but another slave called Cato. He was an African who fight the white people in South Carolina. His men kill Mr. Gordon’s first wife.”
Alex was shocked. “Whoa, why did he call me Cato, then?”
Sukey shrugged, throwing another shirt over the washing line. “Maybe he thinks it’s a joke, giving a little boy like you the same name. Anyhow, Mr. Gordon and his son are lucky to escape from the angry slaves. The white people make new laws, say slaves can’t learn to read, or travel without a pass, or lots of us gather together. They say we can’t grow food, or make money for ourselves. They also say that masters can’t treat slaves cruelly, because they afraid we rebel again. Of course,” she chuckled ruefully, “It’s one thing to make laws, and it’s another thing to carry them out.”
“So,” Alex said, his brow furrowed. “Why does Mr. Gordon let you grow tobacco and sell it, when that’s against the law?”
Sukey was lifting a pair of trousers up to the line, but she stopped and looked at him, puzzled. “Alex, you don’t know?”
Alex solemnly shook his head.
She looked self-satisfied. “Because he’s afraid,” she said. “He’s afraid that if he don’t give us poor slaves anything, we take everything from him. That’s why he pretends not to notice when one of the pigs disappears, because he reckons that’s a price he has to pay for us. He give me my land when I say that Tony and them were complaining they were hungry. Mr. Gordon got the idea they are threatening him.”
Suddenly, a lightbulb went on in Alex’s head. “You made him think that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” said Sukey, shrugging, a coy smile playing about her lips. “Mr. Gordon worries I put a curse on him, maybe, unless he do as I bid.”
Alex had noticed how frosty Sukey was in her dealings with Mr. Gordon. It was weird, because he had so much power over her, but she acted as though he didn’t. He couldn’t help thinking that it was a very dangerous game that she was forced to play with her master.
“I don’t get something, though,” said Alex, standing on tiptoe to hang up a wet shirt. “I don’t understand why he was so angry about the stupid pecans.”
Sukey slung the last shirt over the line, and said, “Maybe he is worried about Mrs. Gordon. Beware of him, Alex. When he’s unhappy, he is a dangerous man.”
Alex shivered again. That’s weird, he thought. Even when I’m afraid, I don’t normally shiver.
Alex was a subject of discussion at the Gordons’ breakfast the next morning. Mr. Gordon said, “Since nobody has claimed Cato, and we see that he has the makings of an excellent footman, I suggest we send him to Sidlaw. I’m sure Bobby can use the help.”
Hannah almost choked on her bacon. “Wait, you’re sending Cato to South Carolina? What happened to selling him to Mr. Osborn?”
Mr. Gordon looked at her through narrowed eyes. “What business is that of yours, Hannah? Hold your tongue.”
She blurted out, “He’s my . . .” and then she stopped.
“Yes?” Mr. Gordon asked sharply, chewing on his bacon. “He is your what?”
“Nothing,” Hannah whispered, looking downward. “Sir.”
“He is nothing to do with you, girl,” Mr. Gordon warned. “He is my property.”
As he finished speaking, there came a knock on the door.
The caller was a slave named Gideon, and he brought news from Sukey. “Cato,” it seemed, would not accompany her upriver that day, because he was sick.
Alarmed, Hannah listened closely to Gideon’s conversation with Mr. Gordon. She hesitated to ask Gideon what was wrong with Alex, because she didn’t want to make Mr. Gordon angry again.
Then she had an idea.
“Mr. Gordon,” she said. “Can I go with Sukey instead of Cato?”
Mr. Gordon thought about it for only a second. “Very well. Jane can perform your chores. You may accompany Sukey on her journey. It will be good for you to learn from her about trade.”
Hannah didn’t need to be told twice. She tore off after Gideon.
Hannah didn’t know that she could run as fast as this, and by the time she reached the slave quarters, her chest was bursting from the effort, and her stomach felt queasy from running on her greasy breakfast. She leaped into the men’s hut, where Alex was lying on a deerskin-covered wooden pallet. A rough and worn blanket covered him, and a roaring fire burned in the hearth at the center of the smoky room. After being outside in the nippy air, and already warm from her run, Hannah had trouble breathing in the hut’s stifling atmosphere.
Alex smiled wanly at his sister. “You okay, Hannah?”
Hannah panted, “Yeah, but . . . what . . . about . . . you?”
Alex sniffed. “Not too great. Don’t worry, though, I got pills for malaria, remember? But I think I might have the flu.”
Hannah’s mind reeled at this news. How would Alex fare with flu in the middle of the eighteenth century? No antibiotics . . . oh, wait, they didn’t help the flu anyway . . . . No modern medicine, anyhow. What could she do to help her brother? She felt helpless, and she was terrified of losing him.
Alex knew Hannah was worried, and he spoke reassuringly. “It’s okay. I’m drinking lots of boiled water. Oh, and Sukey got me some medicine from the white witch in the woods.”
Now Hannah noticed Sukey in a corner of the hut, stripping leaves from twigs. Alarm bells went off in Hannah’s head. Medicine? In the eighteenth century? When she tried to imagine what that would be like, she drew a blank. “Alex, be careful, okay?” she hissed. “You don’t know what kind of weird stuff she’s giving you.”
Nodding to Hannah, Sukey set a small skillet to heat over the fire. “The witch, she say nothing much does good for this fever,” she explained to Alex. “But she says to keep drinking water, and when I urge her to give me a cure, she tells me she thinks this medicine might help. Hannah, can you bring me a brown paper bag from the house?”
Hannah was baffled. “Brown paper? What for?”
Sukey shooed her. “Just go for some. And fetch a nightcap. Hurry, I must leave upriver soon.”
Hannah looked at her doubtfully. “Yeah, Mr. Gordon says I’m supposed to go with you. But who will look after Alex . . . I mean, Cato?”
“Oh, the men will keep watch on him,” Sukey said dismissively. “Now hurry, for we are already late. We must prepare medicine for Cato, and then we must leave.”
Hannah knew that Mrs. Gordon had carefully saved all the brown paper that wrapped the products from England, but she felt silly trying to explain to her mistress why she needed it.
However, as soon as Hannah mentioned that Sukey had sent her, Mrs. Gordon rummaged in a drawer, and then handed over a crumpled bag, along with a worn lace cap. “I have no men’s nightcap,” she said, “but this will suffice.”
Hannah looked anxiously at the brown bag. She had assumed that she would be handed a grocery sack, not a tiny bag, and she hoped it would be big enough. Seeing her concern, Mrs. Gordon assured her that it would suit the purpose.
“Tell Sukey to advise me and Mr. Gordon of Cato’s condition,” she added kindly. Hannah was touched, and smiled gratefully at her.
When she heard about Mrs. Gordon’s concern for Alex, Sukey was not impressed. “She just worried that he die,” she grumbled, “and then Mr. Gordon lose money. But don’t you worry, Hannah. He won’t die.”
Sukey quickly dry-fried the leaves from the plants she had brought from the woods, shaking the pan to stir them. Then she beckoned to Hannah. “Open the bag to catch them,” she said, wrapping a thick rag around the handle of the frying pan, and lifting it from the fire.
Hannah held open the brown paper bag, and Sukey tipped the hot and wilted leave
s into it, gingerly scraping in the last few with her bare finger. Setting down the skillet, she took the bag from Hannah, and folded over the end to close it. Placing it flat on her palm, she quickly smoothed it out. Then she took Mrs. Gordon’s nightcap from Hannah, and told Alex to sit up.
Without warning, Sukey plopped the paper bag onto Alex’s head, then tied on Mrs. Gordon’s cap to hold it in place. “Now,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork, “you don’t take that off for three days, hear?”
Alex looked astonished, and Hannah burst into peals of laughter, pointing at her brother. “Oh, my God,” she shrieked, her hand to her mouth, “you look hilarious! Do you want a pacifier with that?”
Alex stared at her, his lips pursed. Hannah felt a little guilty for mocking him while he was sick. But not very guilty.
Never in her life had Hannah paddled a canoe, and this particular canoe was quite a sight. Twenty feet long, made from birch bark, it was laden down with barrels of tobacco and sugar, burlap bags of cornmeal, and iron kettles that Mr. Gordon had imported from England.
In short, it was absolutely groaning under the weight of stuff. Hannah wondered if the canoe could handle any more weight, or if it would sink like a rock as soon as she and Sukey climbed on board. Sukey, however, did not seem at all worried. In fact, she said to Hannah, “Not much to carry this time of year. We only need this one canoe.”
Hannah stammered that she didn’t know how to drive a canoe.
Look Ahead, Look Back (The Snipesville Chronicles Book 3) Page 19
